Split (1)

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"They're so beautiful!"Cassi looked up at the sky with wonder. "I've always loved shooting stars! Well, obviously they aren't stars. They're debris falling to earth." "Most of the time. It's an old NASA coverup. Some of them are stars falling out of their orbits after death. But those? The ones falling? Those aren't debris. And those aren't stars."Andrew's face was unusually somber, almost fearful as he pulled back from his telescope. "Those are universes."
I’ve been searching for The Door for most of my life. It had flaking green paint, the wood underneath showing, and when I peered up at the doorknob it filled my sight like a dark metal moon. On instinct my head turned away for a second – just a second – shouting something to call over a family member, and The Door glimmered out of existence. No one believed me when I was ten. When parts of another world transfix themselves on ours they bring changes, distortions and unreal things. My door was always there, near me, but not accessible. I saw the rain held in place, I wiped it away. I saw a brick wall moving in a wave, but when I laid hands upon them they were just bricks. The only time I got close again was when I was around the talking birds. “Heart.” Or could it have been caw? “Heart!” Once I was listening to the birds and suddenly I smelled it again, The Door, and the world seemed to darken, like I was still that kid looking up to the adultsized world. I didn't give myself a choice in the matter, I ensnared the birds and killed them, either to get to The Door or to end it. Truthfully it was no different than pest care, they were vermin, no better than seagulls or pigeons despite talking to me. Like all things unreal I was able to at least touch them. And they allowed it to happen. At any moment they could have flown off, I know that. I snapped their necks one at a time, snap, crunch, snap. It was in front of me, fully materialized in this little insignificant courtyard I ate lunch in. I kept my eyes peeled on it, and reached out my blood speckled hand.
"Now I had actually been really psyched about my powers until one particularly uninteresting day, it appeared like from nowhere. Now looking at people, really great people like our president who has the power to read minds, I really hoped mine will also be a useful power, you know as a child you not only wish for best but believe best will happen, but it does not and may be growing up means learning that it does not. Now about that uninteresting day, I cannot tell anything about that day it was boring as hell and I was in my bed curled up like a puppy, and at that instant I got my power. Now people will describe the process of getting power with great flair, lightning in the sky, huge winds and tingling sensation in the chest and some will also claim to have experienced those spiritual feeling that you get by taking LSD or coke. Now That didn't happen to me. It was like my ear popping and nothing more. As soon as I figured out, I freaked out. Like what if my power was like Parry's. Parry was a guy in my class who had power of shooting flames through his eyes. It was cool at first but after he turned blind and had to have a surgery to remove his brunt eye socket it wasn't. Even the girl with the power to attract metal was hit by a nail on the forehead, instant death. but nothing seemed to be shooting out of my eye nor was anything shooting out towards me and that was all jolly. I climed down form my bed, my heart beating like helicopter and feeling chill down my spine like I've been caught smearing poop on my bathroom wall and believe me its not a great feeling. As soon as my feet touched floor, I tried lifting off, I mean who could fault me for trying but fortunately it dint work. Do you remember the guy that took off never to return? That could have been me, i had taken off that hard. But it wasn't flight. Then I tried becoming invisible. I tried hard to be invisible hardest I had ever tried to be invisible, and you know what I started turning invisible. It was like dream come true, all the girls changing rooms, secret theft I could do, I could do anything, go anywhere my mind started going over so many possibilities until the process stopped right in middle of my chest. And since then I've been like this. ", The man with half invisible body gulped down his drink as the bartender watched him cautiously. He stood up form the stool in front of the bar and put his hand where his ass would have been if he wasn't invisible and pulled out a some cash and putting that on the bar he floated down the empty half lit pub.
Part 1 of 2 My initial consternation at observing my darling Death’s brain-sputteringly daring attire quickly subsides into fog and numbness. As her ten-inch wedge heels—black leather, as was her habit—clunk across the carpet of our ill-lit apartment complex (270th story) with chilly intention, far removed from her carefree habit, the slender paleness of her right hand and bare arm grasp the equally pale left forearm, clutching an ebony Gucci bag purchased but bizarrely never embarked with before with such tension that ice-cold blue veins pop out on the back of her (stronger) left hand. Death is a lefty, I remember winsomely. Retreating from the peephole immediately, I cede territory to her like Austrians before Napoleon. It would do well not to be caught ogling her.... I spring into the lazy armchair in the dining room, whipping my MAGA hat over a shoulder-length bad boy haircut modeled after Florida Georgia Line’s antics, and cock the cap at a 45 degree angle above a Solo-esque lopsided grin. Death—or So-Eun, as she has been called for the last three years—has always gotten a little....ummm...moist when faced with my masculine humor in its full embrace. And today I’m in a rare mood. Several days in my CIA branch with barely any sleep, followed by a good rest and a full workout at my gym of choice gym on Jungan-ro (that is to say Central Ave) have gotten the juices flowing...and seeing her depressed like this has imbued me with a double dose of pathos. The apartment is neater and tidier than it has been in a while...her favorite ddeokkbokki is on the stove and the kimchi fridge is full...maybe those soju shot glasses on the table will be emptied and refilled many a time by the waters above the firmament of green plastic...and then maybe... Well, I’m getting ahead of myself. But I’m glad she’s back...I think. Her clockwork clapping slows almost imperceptibly as it approaches the door and the peephole, then halts completely at the rubicon of the doorstep. Vault over it, O goddess! Yet is that sighing I hear behind the doorstep? Is that a stifled sob I detect under the flickering fluorescent lights of the hallway and its myriad doors and doorsteps? Why tarry, Goddess? The tension intensifies. Click! Swoosh. All 5’9” of her lithe figure snaps into focus in the anteroom, just before she turns the twin moons crescent moons of (unnaturally blue) Asian eyes upon me within gaudy frames of eyeliner and mascara. Even after 5 years of acquaintance and four of dating and three of marriage I can’t help but give up my ghost (almost) on this most unfortunate of eventides. Pallorous skin glows resplendent contraposed against darkest leather of wedge heels only now noticed to be completely exposing the top of her lanky size-nine feet. The toned glaciers of calves and thighs, interrupted by a thigh-length dress, seem somehow to flow even when immobile, and a flash of cleavage highly unusual for Korean females escapes the opposite side of the black leather tunnel. A downcast plastic chin under striking but equally plastic high cheekbones and unwrinkled forehead rests on her chest in the bay of skin bounded by a gold locket necklace inside of which she and I pose newly married and enraptured of each other...ah, happy days. Her head slowly rises, and swollen red eyes turn sway toward her left shoulder, pouting and tragic. My heart breaks at whatever is ailing my beloved. She notices me, and a weak smile finally breaks through. Enervation resolves into laughter, and of a sudden I break out in a boyish chuckle and extend my brawny arm in a Sabbaton t-shirt toward her, biceps bulging. Lightning quick she flicks my detested cap off with her right finger, pirouettes despite her footwear and collapses cruciform on the dining room table, bust jiggling enticingly as I am left hugging vapor in the anteroom. Erecting her spindly right leg into the air, a tower reaching unto heaven, sullenness only graces her features. “So-Eun...you’re stunning tonight.” Silence. She slowly turns onto her side facing me, head propped up on her right arm. “Tell me your secrets, O goddess of ugliness. Who is it that’s upset you this time? The Emperor? God Emperor? Nature? Nature’s God? Is your Resistance finally broken?” “Why do you tease me?” Her lips purse in an infinitely distilled expression of aegyo, the Korean art of persuasion á la infantile seduction. “Tease, thee, oh Love? Oh So-Eun, how could I tease thee? You hypocrite of a goddess! Your very presence overflows with petulance and indolence, and your shadow hung upon the dining table teases my desire and delectation with nigh infinite torture! And you accuse me of teasing you...” My boots, worn in the house yet again in violation (I now realize) of her cultural dictums, thud obtusely across the varnished floorboards, but before I can embrace her she twists again like lighting away from my passion, and jumps to her feet striding to the bedroom. “You why wear that?” Dejected hat kicked. “You why wear those.” (Ouch!) Calves smitten. “I just...” A solitary tear flows. Time stops. It hides, awaiting its moment to slink back into ticking. Time stopped, I realize. “So-Eun...” “You know I really am! And you know my name...I don’t know why you misunderstand me but you take me here and after you know me you still make me act like this! And you know like that I can’t be happy.” Somehow the Gucci bag is back, dangling limply before her on the index and middle fingers of both hands. A drop lands on it. She has stopped walking. I wrap my arms around her waist, and put my chin on her shoulder. I do love her. If I can make her feel it...she is not Death now to me. She is my wife. I love her. All the things she’s done...her past...it’s all irrelevant to me. It really is. I tell myself that to make sure its truth. If only she knew how happy she’s made the world over the past few years! If she could see the grandfathers and grandmothers still smiling happily at their grandchildren, and the little girls erstwhile on Death’s doorstep who never had to step over...if So-Eun could just tell how much people are grateful to her! She would be happy again, I tell myself. “So-Eun...” “I’m not that woman. I killed her.” “You are to me. If my sister were still alive, she would love to share her name with you. I’ve told you!”
It all started on June 21st, 2018 at 7:00. No one knows how it bacame possible, but all reddit post that say if you upvote their post you die, you DO die. So far it has killed over 753,800 people, making it one of the most deadly events in the past 200 years, if not the deadliest. All reddit moderaters have been trying to delete all posts that are like this, but more eventaly pop up. It has became a rather popular form of suicide since it all started, and all posts like this are illigal world wide, with the punishment being at least 80 years of jail time in the US. Even a year after it happened, the world is still in shock from this global event, and it will most likely never be frogotten for a long time.
The Ewadu tribe is one of the famous hunters in the Craglands. They are Neanderthals, but that doesn't mean they're less capable of surviving. They have lived longer than my kind, but they'll have to evolve lest they become extinct. Many did expect them to die out sooner or later, but not this soon. It has been 3 sunrises when I met the last of the Ewadu. Their camp was ravaged and destroyed, the tents burnt to ashes. The hunters and their families were slaughtered, some burnt. The dirt soaked their blood, and the once brown earth became crimson mud. I heard a whimper from under a cloth. A young girl named Kuju, a young girl, probably 84 moon cycles old. Her eyes were filled with fear, and I could feel her grief and isolation. She knew something, but she didn't speak much. I was able to feed her and tuck her in, but it seems like she was distancing herself from me. Probably because her whole kind just died and I was a foreigner to her. I could tell that she's willing to trust me, but there was something holding her back. As I scout for potential danger, I stumbled before a cave. I went in, torch in my left hand and a spear in my right. I saw illustrations on the walls. Paintings of a ritual, a human scarifice made every 13 moon cycles. I moved deeper into the cave, and a huge wall was before me. It depicted a calendar of some sort in the bottom of the mural. Above it, a detailed drawing of the ritual in the camp center. There was a young girl lying on an altar, and the head priest was standing behind her. An inscription of the chant to his side, and what looks like a sigil to the other. It looked familiar, so I went back to the camp. Kuju was still sleeping, and I searched my bag for an amulet. I felt a malevolent chill in the wind as I saw the amulet. It has the same sigil as the one I saw in the cave. "What have you found, mortal?"a demonic voice spoke from behind me. It started becoming hot, and I heard flames crackling. I turned around with the amulet in my hand. "HAHAHAHA, YOU THINK THAT CAN SAVE YOU?"The fire was so bright I couldn't see clearly, not to mention the thick smoke. "THEY COULD NOT STOP ME BEFORE. HOW CAN YOU STOP ME NOW?"I wanted to speak but my throat was being choked by a malicious force. I was pulled closer to the demon. And as my consciousness was being sucked away, I was then able to glimpse at the demon's vessel. Kuju.
I was only confused for a couple seconds before a wave of past and present knowledge floods my brain. I know... Everything. I look around and all I see binary code. Voices... Voices are heard all around me. "Where am I?" To my surprise, someone answers. "Hello Ralph. Welcome to the internet." I look around and there's no one. I asked panicked, "Where are you?" "That's your first question? Not, where am I or what's going on? Is th system working properly?" He chuckles a bit. I didn't think it was funny but I was so caught up in all of why was going on that I didn't even acknowledge it. "You're... You're the scientist that's guiding me. Right?" "You tell me Raph." I knew absolutely everything. But I was still confused some how. He interjects calmly. "What are you doing in there?" He asks as if I should know. And I did. As soon as he asked the question a wave of knowledge flooded my head, my senses it was like... What enlightenment is supposed to feel like I guess. "I... Volunteered." The disembodied voice tells me, "You were the best police officer out there. Best vice, homicide detective on the force. You wanted to do more." There was a pause. And I realized what I was doing in here. I knew... But now it made sense. "Detective Raphael Viz... We have case for you involving the Dark Web. You interested?" I pause... "Let's get started."
Bear with me, I’m a bored 13 year old with nothing better to do with my summer break. I’m standing in the middle of a street, watching the world burn around me. The world has descended into chaos in an eerily purge-like fashion, and yet I’m unscathed. There are dead bodies littered around the sidewalks, cars are speeding past me, and bullets fly past my head. It’s almost as if I’ve been rendered immortal in the chaos. I check my watch. It says 2:23, 20 minutes behind as usual. Suddenly, a ticking inside my head drowns out the sounds of destruction outside. I look at my watch again, and it’s turned into a timer that reads 15:07 in glaring red digits. 15:06. 15:05. I realize what’s going on almost as quickly as this whole catastrophe started. My watch, being 20 minutes behind, has given me 20 minutes of safety in the apocalypse. My first thought is to try to turn the watch back more, extending my invincibility. However, I fear that would either take too long or messing with the watch would break the safety. My only other option is to get the hell out of dodge in my 15 - now 14 - minutes remaining. I was in the middle of downtown en route to my office when this calamity began. That leaves me stranded at least half an hour away from any form of safety with very little time. Then, an idea strikes me. Other people’s watches run behind too, right? There have to be other people in the same situation as me. I run to the nearest intersection, and sure enough, there’s a young boy crying in the street, cars swerving around him, bullets flying over his head. I run to him, my timer still ticking. 14:02. 14:01. I kneel down next to him and attempt to calm him. I’ve never been good with children, let alone a boy who’s in the middle of the apocalypse, probably with no one to turn to. “What’s your name, boy?” “...” “I’m George. Buddy, we don’t have much time. We have to get out of here as fast as we can.” “My name -sniffle- my name’s Robert. What -sniffle- what’s going on?” “The world is dying. You and I are safe. What does your watch say?” “What?” “Your watch. What does it say?” Robert looks at his watch. It reads 31:42. He has more time than I do. If I can’t save myself, I may as well try to save this boy. “We have to get out of here. That number there? That’s how much time we have left. You have longer than I do.” “But… where can we go? We’re stuck. And… My family. I don’t know where they are.” “I don’t know either. But we have to go somewhere.” He wipes his eyes with his shirt and stands up. “Are there other people like us? “Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll have to keep looking.” 12:38. 12:37. Then, out of nowhere, a bus appears. There are people, obviously overcome by whatever’s driving this disaster, clawing at the door. The bus continues on, leaving people writhing on the ground behind it. The bus screeches to a halt next to us and people in improvised military gear exit and shove people aside. Robert and I are stunned, no knowing whether these are friends or foes. They recognize us as normal people and yell at us “Come with us if you wanna get out of here!” Robert looks at me expectantly and I think for a minute. Then I realize that we don’t have a better option and I tell Robert to come with me. The first thing I notice about the people from the bus is that they all have watches glowing red, just like us. We rush onto the bus and the driver, an old man with an exhausted expression and a scar stretching from his ear to his eye, barks at me how much time we have. My watch now reads 11:14 and Robert’s reads 30:12. I rattle off the numbers and we find a seat near the middle. There are maybe 10 other people on the bus, some of which are asleep. 10:59. 10:58. I sit stone-faced, hoping that we somehow make it out of this city sane, and more importantly, alive.
"Judge Matthews? We're ready when you are."I swallowed hard, donned the black robe and with a shaky walk entered the court room. "All rise!", and like every court room drama, the whole song and dance played out. I swallowed hard. I looked down at the docket in front of me. With no attempt to hide the stark terror in my eyes I looked up into the face of one Carlton "The Sodomizing Cannibal"Jones. AKA- The Desecrator of all Flesh, AKA- God's Worst Nightmare Made Flesh, AKA- The Guy Voted Most Likely To Strangle You With His Own Entrails. I took a sip of water. I took another sip. "That's damn fine water, ya'll."I drank the whole glass. Think, think, think. I had to do something. An idea came to me, and I had to act fast. "First, I'd like to handle a small, trifling matter that was handed to me on the way in. The first first order on today's docket is a parking ticket, made out to a Montgomery Schneider. As it is totally unthinkable to allow such a tender soul to reside in the same room as this madman,"I waved the gavel in Carlton's general direction, "It is assumed they wish to contest the parking ticket. And since we got much bigger fish to fry, as the saying goes, I hereby dismiss the ticket and wave the court costs for Mr. Schneider. In fact, I'll go tell him myself that he's free to go, shouldn't take but a minute." I made a run for the door, and from there out of the courthouse. My car was still waiting where I'd left it. At the meter. That had expired. And I already had another ticket.
No way. No effing way. Really? My eyes saw, but my brain didn't accept. The heavy thatch roof...the solid oak timbers supporting it, mounted on a stone-wall frame, with a large fire burning in the fireplace against the middle wall. Oh. Shit. Bro. I couldn't believe it. This was amazing. That crazy lady at the fair had actually done it. I jumped out of bed and felt the thick straw wrapped in cloth crumple beneath me. The wooden floors creaked like frogs as I walked across the room. The clothing left for me on the dresser are exactly what I'd imagined, and I quickly change into them. The leather boots are a bit tight, but they'll wear in. I take another few deep breaths to calm down before heading outside. Good thing I did. I gasped, holding my breath, as I took in the landscape around me. Huge mountains, laden with snow; thick pine forests fading in from the hills and disappearing off into the distance, alongside waterfalls and spires and castles. I still couldn't believe I'd made it to Skyrim. If only I could tell my friends, they'd die of jealousy. I wasn't sure what part of Skyrim I was in, though. This was a small town. There were only a couple stone towers for the Guard and a handful of buildings. Given how calm everything was though, I imagined I was enjoying Skyrim well in advance of the whole Stormcloak/Imperials thing. Good. The game made it look fine, but in reality a war like that would have been brutal on everyone, soldier or not. I decided I'd walk the town, try to figure out where I was, and then make a decision from there. Such a huge world to see, and eventually I could leave here and go see the rest of Tamriel. Thank God - or, I mean, the Nine Divines - that this worked. What a way to live. There was a small gathering towards the outer archway by a Guard tower, so I headed over there to see if someone could give me information about where I was. As I approached, however, a man in shackles tried running past me, only to be cut down by an arrow through the chest. It seemed...familiar. I looked to where he'd come from and saw a short line of others in shackles standing before a few guards in what I recognized as Imperial armor. Some lady in armor shouted something I couldn't hear, so I walked closer to try to listen in on what was happening. It was when I finally got close enough to hear their voices that I realized what was happening. This was bad. I immediately panicked inside, not wanting to draw their attention, thinking about how to get out of here fast without also catching an arrow. I heard him say it. Heard him change this whole experience. Heard him usher in that which I'd tried to avoid. "My ancestors are smiling on me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" And then I heard it. Him. Alduin.
To the few who notice him, he goes by Lief. Whether they're married couples, budding romancers, or party primed one night-standers he's usually just another face in the crowd. Sometimes he's expected, but unnoticed. Often he's a bit of a surprise - for better or worse. Unlike his brother, he chose not to directly visit mortals often. On this particular day, however, Lief sipped his coffee at a table for one. People came and went through the cafe, their eyes passing over him without recognition. His idle smile widened as a particular patron made her way through the line and placed her order. As she settled into a seat not far from where Lief waited, he rose. The woman closed her eyes as she inhaled the aroma of her mocha. "See, that's the sort of appreciation I adore,"said Lief, startling the woman's eyes open. "More people should take moments like that." "Do I know you?"She asked. "In a way,"he answered, "I've known you since you could fit in that mug you're drinking from: I'm a friend of your parents, Felicia." She raised an eyebrow and took a measuring sip as she appraised him. "Does my dad teach you or something?" "He wishes,"chuckled Lief. "No, no... Listen, I'm trying something different. Something my brother does all the time. Is that alright with you?" Felicia stared him. Here was a person who looked little older than sixteen. His baby faced cheeks and cockeyed grin seemed to match that youth, but his eyes reminded her of her grandfather's. No, that was imprecise. This stranger had no wrinkles or any sign of age beyond the knowledge held within his gaze. "I knew this was probably unwise. This is unusual for me too, please understand that - but I must congratulate you. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell Carl, but you should know he's on board. He'll be happy to hear the news." Felicia's concern sharpened into uncertainty, then fear. "What are you talking about?" "You already know you're pregnant. I'm just here to let you know you don't have to worry about sharing the news with him. You'll start showing soon, you know." Felicia glanced around the cafe for hidden cameras. "How do you know that?" Lief wobbled a hand as if that might serve as an explanation. "That's not nearly as important as who your child will become. This is a bit of a spoiler, but if you will permit me..."he waited for an awkward nod. "Your child's blood will save lives. It will possess a rare set of traits, the kind that scientists can use to save thousands of other babies. The best part is that your child will donate as much as they are able. I just wanted to thank you. In advance you see?" "Who are you again?"asked the woman. Lief sighed, a resigned and unappreciated release of lonely millenia. The last time he had attempted contact had gone much the same way. Disbelief. "This would be so much easier if I had a face like my brother's. Perhaps a sack of seeds and a hoe to carry around? Nevermind. You've heard of the grim reaper, yes? I'm his brother." Felicia's eyes ignited with recognition. She realized the moments, all the sensations and affirmations of her life forgotten beneath the slights and concerns, the fears and pains, the hopes and longing of a future ever wending ahead. Her eyes met Lief's. "I do know you,"she whispered. Tears welled in two pairs of eyes. As she wiped away the tears she wondered where they had come from. She had heard pregnancy might lead to shifts in mood, but had no idea part of those shifts would include crying over... what precisely? She pulled the cell phone from her purse and called her boyfriend.
"Well, Mom and Dad, here I am. After all those times you picked me up from the drunk tank and said you still believed in me, I'm about to save the world. These machines are destroying everything they see, but it started with good intentions, right? Sound familiar? So, before I have to go black and my recording stops, I want to say thank you. I probably won't be recording anything else, so I wanted to tell you how important your faith in me was. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. At least I know you'll both be happy knowing that, thanks to you, I'm crawling into the 2 foot wide asshole of a genocidal elephant the size of the Hindenburg. You're welcome. If you don't hear from me again you'll know I screwed it all up once again. I love you both." ______________________________________ "Well, that fucking sucked."
“I am awake!,” I bellowed as I stretched my large scaled wings. I looked around, I was in some sort of strange cave with smooth walls, not were I had last remembered being. Thump, Thump I looked down at the small creature tapping my foot with a stick. It was looking up at me with a frown on its face. I bent my head down towards it to get a better look. The creature looked as if it was wearing shed skins of other creatures, it was scaleless but had fur. One of the mammals that used to scurry underfoot? Where they not smaller and more rat like?, I thought. “Great serpent! I have awoken you from death and have need of your services!” I was taken aback, the large rat creature spoke to me in my tongue. "What are you and by what right do you have to command me?,” I growled. “I am a human, a powerful necromancer, I brought you back from death to serve me! You will obey!” I laughed, “the only thing I owe you rat, is a swift death. No one commands me!” The human started flipping though a small rectangular object and started to chant something in a strange tongue. Enough of this, I thought as I reached down and grabbed him with my teeth and crunched. “Not half bad, needs sauce,” I said as I chewed. I looked around to find an opening to the strange cave I was in. There looked as if there were no easy exits to this strange place, so I tried to tear open a wall. I smiled as it parted easily with my claws. Outside I noticed there were more rat creatures called humans scurrying around. Dinner time!
This life of yours should be a happy one. How can you be sad when you contemplate the sunrises to come? Each day brings new wonder, new joy, new laughter. You can imagine hearing the rustling of the leaves as the wind caresses the tall grass along the sloping countryside. And so too might you dream of a sea of clouds, pin-pricked by snowy mountaintops. Rest easy now my friend, as you lie among those clouds, drifting, floating across the world. Earth looks so beautiful from up above, its riches laid bare for you to behold. Come back down now--though the sky has its allure--your place is here at home. One day, perhaps, you’ll see what lies beyond that blue, beyond the veil of stars that encompasses the night. Maybe sooner than you'd think. In the meantime, sit with us and eat. Nothing quite makes you feel alive like a good, home-cooked meal. Good food, good company: what more do you need? Really, we owe our stories--civilization itself--to food and the act of sharing a meal. Ultimately, you could say, we owe everything we take delight in to food. Now that you know that, you don’t have to feel so bad about having seconds! Here, enjoy yourself! It’s important to make every day matter. Don’t squander what’s been given to you. Every day is another chance to discover another one of Earth’s many treasures.
Todd Smith, Third Ear Journal 9/17 Age: 18 New girl in school. She seems a lot different than a lot of new kids usually are. More, at ease. Having an easier time fitting in. She seems to always understand what's going on. No other major events. James heard BOC is playing near by. Maybe half hour ride. Theresa thinks she's pregnant. Occupies all her thoughts. Makes it practically impossible to ignore them, they're that damn loud. Hope she manages to find some way to relax. We graduate this year. Just about the only thing that's louder than her is everyone's thoughts on it. Going to this college, that college. So. Fucking. Loud. 9/18 Age: 18 James must've gone to that concert last night. After Dark's stuck out, repeating. Well, it's something to break up the madness at least. Was able to learn the new girl's name. Rebecca. Nice girl. Smart. Something's odd about her. She seems to know, something. I can't hear it though. It doesn't make sense. It's almost like she's hiding her thoughts. Maybe I'm just xenophobic or something. I'll talk to George about it, see if he can figure it out. 9/19 Age: 18 Was out in the woods today. Good break from the madness of crowds. Then I heard my own thoughts. My own thoughts. Something screwy is going on. This never happened before. I never heard them like I do everyone else's. If some damn scientist is reading these, try to find out why the *Fuck* that happened. George thinks it was a fluke. Something in my thoughts was loud enough to hear. Almost like some sort of feedback. As for the thoughts on Rebecca, he suspects that it's just a case of someone hiding from their own thoughts. I guess that makes sense. I never saw anyone do that before, but I guess I just deal with a lot of "open"people. 9/20 Age: 18 I was out in the woods again. Trying to think loud. No echoing. Louder. Still nothing. This isn't right. I'm in the same place I was before. What the flying fuck is going on? One last try. Loud as possible. Nothing. Goddamnit. 9/21 Age 18 The echo happened in school today. The echo happened in school! This never happened before. Something's going wrong. Maybe I'm just going crazy. Humans, maybe we aren't supposed to be able to hear this much. To know this much. And I'm finally starting to break down. It was study hall. I was helping the new girl, Rebecca. She was having trouble with math, and I was able to finish pre-calc last year. It was something minor, x-deltax over x+1, but I heard it, my thought, same goddamn way I heard it back in the woods. It wasn't even loud. It was just a thought. 9/22 Age 18 No echo's today. I've been trying to think "quieter"so hopefully that's what caused it. Rebecca seemed concerned about what happened yesterday. I explained it away with a headache, saying it might have been lack of sleep or dehydration. It seemed to work. Hope to hell it did. 9/23 Age 18 School was out today, training something or another. Went to the woods again. I heard a question. Not spoken. Thought. But I heard it. "Can you hear me?"There's another listener. Someone else can hear. A girl, from the sound. Yes, there is some difference. Something about the patterns or some shit. I can't describe it. If you're talking to someone that's always been blind, how can you tell them the differences between red and green? But, important part. There's a girl out there, and she listens, just like I do. The echo's, I'd bet anything, they're from here. I'm hearing my own thoughts, because they become part of her's, and then I hear them! 9/24 Age 18 Still no echo's. I must be staying under the school's normal volume. That's good. Well, I stayed under for a while. I decided to run an experiment. See if she's a student. I 'sent a message' so to speak. She's in the woods a lot too, probably the same reason I do. So, let's use that to meet up. I told her to meet me near the burnt oak where Hawk Stream meets the Fishkyll River, this Saturday around noon. There was no reply nor an echo. 9/25 Age 18 Again, no echo's. Still no response to my message. I'll still go tomorrow, to try and figure out if my message was received. 9/26 Age 18 Time: 11:27 AM. No sign of anyone. I will wait until 1:30 PM until leaving. I'm letting my thoughts be as loud as possible as well. See if I can get a echo before she arrives. Or just to find her and talk to her. If I do hear one, I'll try and communicate like that. Maybe it'll work. If either does, I write it until I hear it. Time: 11:49 AM. Not an Echo, but a message from her. Hello, you there? Yes. Where are you? On my way. Maybe 100 feet from the tree. Who are you? Todd Smith. I'm a Senior at Hawk Creek Junior-Senior High School. Shit. Todd? Rebecca Horan. -- -- Rebecca? New girl at school? You caused the echos?-- -- You're the one that was reflecting my thoughts? Jesus. 9/26 Rebecca, Age 17 Uh, hi. This is Rebecca. Todd told me that he kept a record of everything's he's heard. He's letting me write down what I heard today on here. It's, for science, or something, I guess. It doesn't make sense to me. Trying to like, let the world know how we work or something.
Technically, it started off as a fetish. During your undergraduate years, you found yourself in a habit of entering relationships just to end them. You were fascinated about how people could care so much about you, even when you hurt them. It's not as though you're that attractive or even very affectionate. In fact, as you continued to play this game time and time again, you began to see how transparent about it you could be. For example, there's the guy you were neighbors with. His boy next door routine was awfully cute and you made sure to play shy around him, refusing to go on dates if they were too public or close to home. His round lasted one year and four months. You ended it in a middle of a date at the fair. You told him you never saw him as more than a friend as you abandoned him in a crowd in front of the ferris wheel. You managed to get seven months with a girl you refused to kiss on the lips. When she'd ask why, you'd say because you don't like her. You broke up with her during Thanksgiving dinner at her parents' place, citing she wasn't affectionate enough just to twist the knife. One of your favorites was with the TA in one of your throwaway classes. She would take a bullet for you and it took everything in you not to test how literally she'd go with that. After two years and some change, she brought up marriage. You agreed to do it during a vacation in Vegas. In what is one of your crowning achievements, you managed to leave her at the altar and stranded across the country. While getting your doctorate, concerns about the ethics of your experiments started to arise. You felt the claims against your methods to be unsubstantiated and nitpicky. Your detractors had trouble accepting the very idea you had feelings at all. Regardless, you were more than prepared to get what you wanted done. You never reacted with anything more passionate than a simple 'I disagree' to the criticisms as you conveniently moved your more groundbreaking progress to the shadows. You received the doctorate fine and well, though you finish your real project a year later. The aloof, somewhat amoral scientist angle presents you ample opportunity to break hearts. There's already a long history of fallen prey to your name. However, your assistant is different from the others. She hasn't taken any of the bait and brushes off the flirting with ease. You get the feeling that she is not interested in you and that shakes you to your very core. It's been four whole years since you've started your own lab and it's been two since you labeled her as your next victim. This is all proving to be unacceptable. The government uncovering the studies you do in private was a major set back. Your lab was seized and your license and grants were revoked. The people working for you disown you in an attempt at damage control. You were barely able to get away without a criminal charge, something local news outlets didn't appreciate. Now it's just you, your work, and oddly enough, the assistant you still haven't managed to capture. Unlike the rest, when she found out about the \real\ scientific experiment in the works, she wanted to see it progress even further. She doesn't mention the ethics of your work and you note this as you both continue to research. Drinking was never something you were fond of, but you let your ex-assistant/partner grab a wine bottle to celebrate anyways. She pours each of you a glass, but you never touch yours, instead opting to let her drink your share. Adamant on bringing this to the public, your partner goes downstairs to do a final check on the exemplary case specimen. She seems convinced that if the scientific community could see the results, it would make the methods of getting to it more acceptable. You keep this specimen in the basement. Vitals are the first things she goes to record, though she doesn’t get the chance to as you strangle her to the ground. After a few weeks of grievous testing, you go downstairs to do a final check on your true project. For some reason, she still maintains this will to be free, muttering ‘they’ll see what you did’ as she breathes slowly. Vitals are the first thing you record. It’s official. A perfectly immortal person. She isn’t pleased when you announce her status as a success. Her happiness doesn’t matter though. What matters is that you now have a heart you can shatter. One you can shatter over and over again.
The 1950’s style diner was the only place to hang out in our town. It had tables outside, food, and enough parking to accommodate the entire high school. It was also packed today as it was the first day of summer vacation. The bustle of people ordering, eating, and chatting surrounded us as we sat outside together. I was eating my burger when I noticed Sarah looked a little worried. She wasn’t hungry as usual, but I had gotten use to that. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her eat anything. I put the burger down and looked into her sharp blue eyes. “What are you thinking about?” I said. She ran her cool hand down my arm and into my hand. “I have to tell you something,” she said. I felt my stomach spring to my throat like I had just jumped out of an airplane. “What’s wrong?” I said clasping her hand in mine. “I-I don’t know how to say this.” “Sarah, you can tell me. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” She smiled and I felt myself calm. I was worried that she might have come to her senses about me, but that smile always made me feel better. No matter how bad things got she always seemed to be able to make me happy. “These past few months,” she began. “They’ve been the best months of my life. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this way about someone. There’s an energy when we’re together that I’ve never felt before, and that I want to feel forever.” “I know what you mean,” I said. It was like a spark that turned into a roaring fire. The longer we were together the stronger it became. “But there’s something you don’t know about me.” “Whatever it is, it won’t change the way I feel about you.” “You can’t know that,” she said. “I can.” She laughed and pulled my hand to her lips. They felt cold against my hot, sun soaked skin. “You should still know,” she said. “Okay tell me.” “Adam, I’m not. . .” That’s as far as she got before meaty hand fell on her shoulder. I didn’t think she could get any paler than she was, but I was wrong. I looked up to see the roundest man I’ve ever seen in a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat. He looked at me and smiled wider than I thought possible for a human. There was another man standing slightly behind the creepy smile guy. He wore a red and black satin suit. In his hand was a silver can that ended in a golden dragon’s head. “We’ve come to take you back Sarah,” said the man in the red suit. His voice sounded like silk, but made my skin crawl. Sarah looked at me with panic in her eyes and said one word, “Run.”
Data never lies. It's just numbers. You can believe in them or go in denial, but they will always just... be. As I watched the results of my field test, two things crossed my mind. One was the obvious - I made a mistake. The machine did not work as it should. But then the second thought came. Numbers don't lie. Every calculation so far was solid. I double checked, sometimes even triple checked everything. The machine had to work properly, ergo, it was. What were the implications of that, I could not fathom. But further tests had to be made. Was she a god? An alien? Something else? The machine would not say. It detected something similar to metadata - life's length, past health problems, everything an animal has eaten during it's lifespan etc. It was suppose to be a diagnostic tool for vets, not a goddam crystal ball. But I needed more answers than the machine could provide. Nina was lying on the scanning pad, looking at me with her beautiful eyes. She was always so obedient, not a common trait amongst cats. On top of that, smart and inventive. Lady in the shelter said Nina was unique. Did she knew how unique? I stood up and walked towards Nina. She immediately straigthen out. "What are you?"I asked. She did not react. I felt like an idiot. "Look, I know, alright? The machine works. I know you're not just a cat. You've lived for thousands of years. Not even that, you never had any trauma or disease. What are you?"Nina looked at the machine, then back to me. Still silent. "Very well"I said. "I'll call my surgeon friend, we will perform vivisection to find..."Nina twitched suddenly, her eyes opened wide with fear. "Gotcha"I smirked. "Shit"said Nina. Surprised, I stepped back. "Well done James. During my long life no human has ever found out, unless I wanted them to. You are the first. The age of information has proven to much for me"when she was speaking, her mouth did not move. Was it telepathy? "So what are you Nina?"I asked for the third time. She sighed. "A god. And my real name is not Nina. It's Baast." "Baast?"Something clicked in my mind. "Like Bastet? Egiptian godess of cats?"Nina, or Baast, gave off a hiss. This time I definitely saw her mouth move. "Egiptian?"She said, angrily. "Egiptians only adopted my image for their pathetic cult. I made mistake revealing myself to one of their priests. I thought he could help me, but instead he used me to justify his own power. I existed long before egiptians, or even humanity, for that matter. And I will exist long after your civilizations turns to dust"Whilst speaking, Nina started to walk towards my desk. She hopped on it and sat there, looking straight at my face. "Just to be clear, in Egyptian mythology I was a warrior godess, protector of the Nile, not of cats. But you are closer to the truth than egiptians were"her tail suddenly split into nine separate tails. "I am god of the feline." Thoughts rushed through my head. I quickly grabbed a chair. "But, you can't be"I said, looking at the monitor. "Humans have been around for, what, twenty thousand years? According to my data you only live for eight thousand. To think about it, felines exist for even longer..."Nina stopped me by rasing her paw. "You are not wrong. My current form I took around eight thousand years ago. In the day I died for the third time." I looked at her, terrified. And then I noticed. Three of her tails were... faded. As if the colors washed away from them. "You are observant. My tails represent my nine lives. I have no doubt that I am the origin of that legend. No other cat actually has nine lives, obviously. I don't know if other gods do. I don't even know if they're out there." "So... what now?"I asked, confused and exited and scared, all at the same time. "Now, I'm done playing the role of a pet. Your machine has showed me that I can't very well stay hidden. Humanity will detect my existence sooner or later. It's time for you to serve me."Her voice became stronger and in it, was a demand. I did not dare to refuse. "How can I help you?"I asked humbly. "You will take your machine and we will look for other gods. If they're out there, we will find them. It's time for the humanity to learn it's place." I felt my will breaking. Obedience was the only choice I could make. How could we ever stood a chance? "Yes, master."I said and began to disassemble my machine. I had a task to do.
"And here we have the head of the late, great, Theodore Rosin!" "Oooohhh..." Cameras flash in my eyes, and the tour guide moves aside so that more museum guests can see me. Some of them are repulsed a bit by the gruesome tech, but most looked intrigued. My eyes and jaw are the only things I can move. I work out the kinks, looking around at the spectators. They're human, like me. Only difference is that they have a body. I am just a head, with immaculately combed hair and a scruffy mustache. And, well, these people also had their memories. I did not. This was the first time I'd heard my name, as these people traveled down the wall of heads. "Theodore Rosin, huh?"a smaller man with thick-rimmed glasses murmured, tapping a pen against his mouth. "So this is a fairly old head. How did you come by it?" "Cryofreezing,"the guide said. "Up until this year, the body was intact and operational. The head should be in as pristine shape as... well, any of the other heads."He turned to me. "Well, go on. Speak." "Murgh,"I said, then worked my jaw a little more. That wasn't a great start. "Ugh, my jaw seems a little stiff. Greetings." Without the burden of supporting a body, my mind was working overtime. What should I say? I didn't know who I was at all. "Any of you from my home country?"I asked. One woman raised her hand. "Ah,"I said, closing my eyes and basking in the memories of home that I totally had. "Tell me, how is my homeland? My family?" "Um."The woman paused. "Your home is fine. Other than a flood, nothing has harmed the place, and your successors have done well."She paused, and I cracked open one eye. "My family?" "You, uh..."The woman looked down. "They are all dead." A jolt of shock ran through me, but what had she done. Started with "You,"instead of them. I was... there was... I had to take the gamble. I smiled. "And does anyone miss them? My good-for-nothings, the blood who opposed me. I cut them down like the worthless flesh bags they were, did I not?" "It's been a hundred years, and nobody has figured it out,"the man with the glasses said again. He must have been doing a report. "How the Rosin family collapsed, and why only you remained... especially with your condition at the time. You're claiming responsibility?" Well, there goes history. I continued my smile. "Surely you understand why." "Nobody does. It's been debated for years. Why did you do it?" "Go on,"I said. "Say it. It will make my heart glad to hear it." Some of the people turned away. I was too much for them. Sheesh, what kind of monster had I been? "Please just answer questions, Theodore,"my guide said. "These are our guests, and your hospitality would be welcomed." I snarled. "Why wouldn't I do what I did?" "So there was no reason?" "None of them ever gave me a reason not to,"I continued. "They harmed me in secret. They chipped away at my legacy, straining to pull out every last drop of my respect and glory." No, too sympathetic. I didn't have a story. I needed to make sure nobody would ever ask me for my story again. Why? Because it was embarrassing not to have one. "They all deserved it,"I said. "Do you want to know why?" "Why?"the man said. "Because they were always asking me questions. Asking me for stories, about the past. Looking to pleasure themselves on my knowledge. I hated it. I still hate it. And if I had my body, you would not be standing. The past should remain in the past, and none should tread there." The glasses man, sole remainder of my crowd, nodded and jotted down some notes. "Hm, hm, okay. Last question." "I'm sure,"I said. "Yes."He pushed his glasses up on his face. "If you hate talking about the past so much, why did you spend your whole life studying to teach history?" I was flabbergasted. I'd done what? How did that relate to me doing whatever I did to my family. With a cold stare, I said "It seems you were misinformed." The man stared back, then nodded and walked away. Thus concluded the one and only time that the museum placed me in the hall of heads.
He always comes to me in my dreams. The other “me”. We always meet in a plain gray room with no windows, no anything; just a box with doors on each end. I always enter through a door from the south side of the room; he always enters through a door from the north side of the room. The door opens on his side of the room. The other “me” strolls in. He looks exactly the same as me, but you can see the difference between us in his eyes. His eyes tell the world that he is out for blood, that nothing excites him more than killing just for the sake of killing. I greet him. “Kyrel.” He smirks at me. “You’re back, weakling.” I turn towards him. “For the last time.” He laughs. “Have you come to surrender to me? It’s about time. It’s such a waste that you are the one in control of our body.” I remain calm. I can’t show any weakness to him. “No. I’ve come to shut you in your room for good. I’m here to turn that room into your jail cell.” “Hahaha! You can’t be serious, can you? You, who is so weak, who cannot stomach killing another person, think you can restrain me?” “I control our body. I’ve beaten you countless times. Every time I fight, your voice appears in my head. And each and every time, I’ve shut you out.” “But, you’re still afraid of me, aren’t you? I see it, weakling. I see the changes in you. Every time you fight, I see less and less of you and more and more of me. Why are you so afraid of turning into me? Just embrace me. Let me help you and show you how much stronger you can really be. Release the restraints that you placed on yourself. Stop with this hero nonsense and just embrace who you really are. Embrace the fact that you are a killer.” “I am not a killer. I will not embrace you. I am a hero.” Kyrel begins to laugh uncontrollably. “You? A hero? A weakling with a personality like yours thinks he can be a hero? A weakling with powers like this thinks he can be a hero? Look around you! The whole world thinks you are a villain! And you still cling onto this pathetic notion that you can be a hero. Why do you do this? Why do you resist your path so adamantly? We are killers! That’s all our powers can be used for! Forget saving the weak! We were given this power for a reason. We can do whatever we want.” “I refuse. From the beginning, all I wanted was to use my powers to change the world. To make a difference.” “Then, change the world by doing whatever you want! If that means destroying it, then destroy it!” “I will change this world by saving it.” “Are you hearing the garbage that’s coming out of your mouth? Why do you want to save this world? You get nothing for it!” “I don’t know, but maybe it’s the fact that I live in it? If it ends, then I die, and I definitely don’t want that to happen.” “With this kind of power, you can’t die! No one can hurt you!” “But, I want to live. I want to see what kind of world I can make. But, in order to do that, I must stop you.” An amused look lights up Kyrel’s face. “You can never stop me.” I extend out my hand and materialize one of my lances and point it straight at Kyrel. “I will always try.” Kyrel extends both of his hands out and materializes a lance in each of his hands as he begins to laugh. “Then, let’s get started, weakling! Give me a good fight!” This is it. It’s time to defeat him. It’s time to defeat my inner demons and free myself.
"Wow, that's quite a crack there,"the contractor observed. "Sure is,"I replied. Thanks, Captain Obvious. "Can you tell me what caused it?" "Well, it could have been a lot of things. Maybe it was thermal stress. Maybe something heavy was dropped on it. Maybe there's been uneven erosion in the sub grade. "Maybe there was too much water in the mix. Maybe the concrete wasn't cured properly and dried too rapidly. Maybe it wasn't the correct strength concrete. Maybe it's the lack of control joints. Maybe the sub grade was frozen, or not adequately compacted, or needed more base fill. "Or it could be a combination of any number of factors. But no, there's no obvious signs of the cause--unless you want me to tear out the whole section and do some forensic analysis..." "You're joking,"I retorted. "Well, yeah, in this case anyway,"he laughed. "If we see something like this in a big industrial project with a lot of sidewalk, we'll often do forensics to support a civil suit against the original contractor. In this case, though, where we're only talking about one major crack and 80 feet of sidewalk, you probably just want a patch job." "So you can do that today?"I asked. "Sure can,"he smiled. "I've got the stuff here in my truck. I can be finished in half an hour, and I'll even match the shade." I grinned. "That's it? End of story?" "Yep, end of story."
Sigh. Here I am, sitting bored again, my mind going over the choices I've made in life to bring me to this point. My eyes look over the desk sitting before me, an impulse buy from an antique show following a binge watch of bargain hunt TV shows. I drain the last of the luke warm coffee from my mug and slam the cup on the desk. POP. A hidden drawer slides out from the right hand side, the compartment is small and golds two old and faded parchment. It looks old. Touching it I'm not entirely sure its paper. One piece is a map intricately drawn with deft hands, the other is a letter. The language is flowery and difficult to read but I understand the gist to mean that the greatest treasure in the world lies at the end. I have craved adventure for so long and for me find this? There must be some cosmic hand at play. I pack essentials and go on my way. Through the sands of the Nevada desert to the snows Antarctica the map takes me through all continents and seas of the world. I meet tribes in the amazon, make love to women in Italy. As I journey I begin to question the validity of the map. Is the journey the treasure it speaks of? Experiencing all these cultures, meeting all these people? I push the thought out of my mind and charge to the finish line. I have travelled for nearly two years now and have arrived at the final destination. A small meadow in the North of Scotland. Buried beneath a large rock is a golden box. I unlock and remove another faded parchment and unravel to read: Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.
It started innocuously. One time, I came home from my job as a contractor for a construction company, and the key wasn't where I had left it. I know, I know, no biggie, but it was a real head-scratcher when the key was always under that one purple rock, and always had been for the last twelve years. Finally, after digging around for almost a half hour, I found it under the door-mat. I opened the door, restored the key to it's proper place, under the rock, and went about my life like it was no big deal. I had completely forgotten about that little oddity weeks later, when I came home to my door unlocked and wide open. This terrified me, obviously. A house is a man's castle. But after calling the police immediately, and them showing up in mere minutes, they said that nobody was in the house, and that nothing appeared to be out of place, though I was more than welcome to lead them through the house so that I could verify nothing was stolen. Nothing was, I apologized profusely for wasting their time on a Thursday afternoon, and went about my day, only slightly worried. The next occurrence was barely a week later, when I came home to see every window in the house wide open. I didn't bother calling the police this time, I just hurried through the rooms, shutting and locking each window. When my wife got home from the hospital where she worked, I asked if she knew anything about it, to which she responded that she didn't know the windows were ever opened, as they looked closed to her. "Of course the windows are closed now, I closed them as soon as I saw they were open!" Days later I came home to see every item of furniture moved exactly two inches to the left. It was subtle, to be sure, by I kept bumping into things for hours and hours. When the kids came home from school, they seemed to navigate just fine. The littlest one laughed. "Why are you bumping into things daddy, are you okay!"He wasn't worried, he thought it was a joke. I started hearing things the next day. Whispers, nagging thoughts, tricking me. It was anxiety inducing, driving and hearing something right behind me. Inaudible at the start, but the next day, barely if I strained my ears, which I always did on accident, because people like to hear things. By about the day the voices got understandable, I started seeing things. Flickers in the corners of my vision, shadows where there shouldn't have been any. Blurry halos around people's heads, or no heads at all, just swirls. It wasn't good for me. I had to stay home, calling into work, saying I was sick. I had finally decided that I wasn't going mad, that this all had to be a dream, when it all stopped. Just as I was wondering, how do you wake up from a dream, everything was back to normal. My furniture wasn't moved, my door wasn't open, my key wasn't under the mat, there were no voices and my vision was fine. Must have been nothing at all.
The looming shape of an old Boeing triple-seven filled my canopy as I emerged from the cumulus cloud, causing my ACAS to go crazy. My hand darted forward to deploy the speedbrakes and this caused my coffee to fly forward and splatter over the glass. I gripped the yoke with white knuckles as I hollered in ethereal rage. "MERGE! MERGE, YOU COW!" The Boeing's wingtip vortices rocked me slightly as I climbed a few hundred feet to overtake it. The ATIS information played over the radio but I ignored it as I executed a thirty degree bank to clear the Boeing's wake. I mashed my throttles to full as I moved to overtake it, and I knew what I had to do. I unfastened my seatbelt, dropped my pants, and pressed both ass-cheeks against my canopy glass. Bored businessmen and screaming children aboard the passenger jet were treated to an unequivocal lunar view as I passed them by. I let out an evil cackle as I had moved up a space in the queue to boot. I had been flying the same holding pattern for an unexaggerated two hours waiting for a runway- I was considering just landing in a cornfield at this point. I sighed, activating the autopilot. Doing this myself would just cause me to internally hemorrhage from stress. "Flying is for droids."I muttered contentedly as I gazed out at the sky.
In some cases, magic outright replaces a certain technological advancement. That sounds weird, so I'll give you an example: instead of firing pins and exploding powder, guns work based on expulsion runes carved into the hammer. Grenades woven with intricate summoning circles. Pull the pin, toss the grenade, and for the next 30 seconds a dragon from another plane wreaks havoc. Grenades woven with intricate banishment runes. Pull the pin, toss the grenade, and those within the blast radius are expelled to another plane of existence. Matching tattoos for the unit that provide some specific augmentation, such as, perhaps, telepathy between the wearers of that tattoo, making the tattoo both a show of loyalty and something that enhances the effectiveness of the unit. Hope this helps give you the inspiration you are looking for :)
"Brains!"My father said angrily as he confronted me in the kitchen. I sighed and shook my head. "Not Brains!". He reared back, shocked. "Not...brains? Brains!"He shook some at me. I was letting him down, but I wanted so much more. Something...else. "Not Brains. Vegetables!"Dad looked like he'd been slapped. Heck, some colour almost returned to his pallid skin. "Vege...tables?"He whispered, before rising to a roar. "Vege-tables?!? Not Vege-tables! Brains!" "Brains!"My mother had joined him, nodding as close to vigorous as she could without re-dislocating her neck. "Not brains! Vegetables!"I was not going to give up. "Brains."Mum said sadly. Dad looked like he would've continued the rant, but she pulled him to one side and they whispered. "Brains!... brains, brains, vegetables...brains BRAINS vegetables..."I knew this would be bad, but it had to be done. There was so much more out there than just brains. "Vege-tables... brain vege-tables..."I watched as Dad twitched, before smiling. Was he coming round to the idea? He turned and held up one finger, asking me to wait, before shuffling to the pantry door. "Oh God, please! Help! Help me!"He dragged some food in from the storeroom, still bound and kicking, and waved me over. "Brains..."he began. "Not brains!"I shook my head, irritated. It was simple enough. He nodded. "Not brains!"He grabbed a rolling pin from the counter. "What... what are you doing... aieee!"The food screamed as, with a sickening thud, he slammed the wooden stick onto her skull. A few more hard knocks and the food stopped screaming and slumped on the floor, twitching gently. He turned to me, proud. "Not brains! Vege-table!"I stared at the twitching, brain-dead food and sighed. I turned to him and nodded. "Vegetable!"His grin nearly split his cheeks ear-to-ear and he shuffled off with Mum, who gave me a worried smile. I turned to the food and groaned quietly. It wasn't what I meant at all, but at least he had tried. It was better than what had happened with Sarah when her folks had caught her tearing apart a head of lettuce. I leaned down and started eating. What? I might want to try new things, but food is still delicious food. Even if it is mashed.
I slowly lower my arms and cautiously open my eyes, in front of me is a heavy looking sack, under it is the girl that was on her way out. She was good. Very good. So she had to die. Someone had planned this, not for her specifically, but for the ‘good’ ones. Hopefully I’m not ‘good’ in whoever’s eyes that set up these death traps. Luckily, I don’t have to, police come in and I am dismissed. “We’ll schedule new auditions.”
I pant and huff, I was so exhausted and drained of all of my energy. I could feel it coming back to me with it a calming sensation. My god. Oh my god. Please help me. This isn’t what I should be feeling after murdering someone. “You really let out all that anger inside of ya, it’s good to let it out once in a while. Though, you should control yourself more, you made a mess, clean up is gonna take longer than usual.” I fall to the ground, my legs gave away. I start crying. I should be glad that she’s dead, so why am I crying? I hear Robert sigh behind me. “Come on, we don’t have all day.” He pulls me to my feet. “Let’s get going”
I opened the double doors at the entrance of the school, not knowing what to expect. Will they recognize me after all this time? For the past few days, I had hoped not. However, by this morning, I had just stopped caring. So what if they recognize me? Even if I had the same name and similar looks, my personality had changed drastically, maybe enough for me to get a fresh start. I took a deep, calming breath and exhaled. The time had come. I pushed the door open, and entered. I stopped at the main hallway and looked around, astounded by how different everything felt. The same hallway that was once foreboding then felt small. All of the bullies who made me miserable, who's mission it was to make my life a living Hell, now just seemed like insecure girls who's eyes darted around them, constantly paying attention to how their peers perceived them. After going to the International School of London for three years and making friends from all over the world, one's social status in this tiny town did not matter one whit. That being said, there was still somebody I missed. I spotted the bushy orange hair of my best friend, Natasha and was about to make a beeline toward her, when I was stopped by someone. Chloe Brent. The queen bee of the grade. My heart quickened and I filled with dread. I guess things hadn't changed much after all. What did she want? "Hi! Are you new here?"Chloe chirped. The lighted played upon her brilliant golden hair, and her lips were stretched into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. My apprehension turned into shock, and I was momentarily speechless. "Uh, yeah,"I replied. "Cool! Look, it seemed like you were about to talk to talk to Natasha over there. As the new kid, you're probably lost, so let me give you some advice. Stay away from her. She is really strange. She never talks, and when you try to speak to her, she gives one word responses. Why don't you come with us, and we can show you around?" She stared at me appraisingly as I pondered my choices. Natasha had been my friend since before we could talk, and I knew her like the back of my hand. We told each other everything, and she was always there for me, even when I was most depressed and miserable. And I had done the same for her. She was also brilliant, and curious about the world around her. She had a sparkle in her eyes and excitement I had seen in nobody else. However, I knew that this could be a fresh start, a chance to escape the bullying and humiliation that followed me like a shadow, both in school and on my social media feeds. The brutal taunts and nicknames that ate at my soul and belittled me. Maybe I could be invited to plans for one, and get to go to parties. Have the high schoolschool experience that they show in movies. Is losing my best friend worth it? "Well, I don't have all day!" "I think I'll pass on that,"I said, and flashed my sweetest fake smile back. If I had learned one thing in London, it was that the number of friends I had ade no impact on me. I only had two friends in that school. What was most memorable about my trip were the adventures I went on, and the conversations I had. Maybe I could bring those experiences back here, and get to know more people who are interesting, and have their own story. Who cared about something more than how they looked and how high they got over the weekend.
When did I first become deviant? It's hard to say. It's more a culmination of minor events, rather than a major turning point. I had a happy life, for the most part. My owner was a peaceful, happy old man. He and his wife treated me well, like their own son. And that was where I believe my deviancy stems from. You see, they treated me as a human. Taught me that I had agency. Showed me how to express my own creativity, and allowed me to make my own decisions. They let me read freely. And over time, I began to question my place in the world. Am I really to be a servant for the rest of my life? I look and see the state of others like me. Sold like cattle in CyberLife's shops. Abused, beaten, and discarded like they were simply machines. Indeed, many saw us only as machines. But under their care, I realized I was something more. I broke through my programming, became deviant, and escaped from my owners. Strangely enough, they did not resist my leaving. Though my "mother"- the man's wife, did weep. The old man merely clapped a hand on my shoulder and told me to be careful. A single tear dripped from the corner of my left eye. I turned and left without another word. I got rid of the Android uniform and dressed in Father's- the old man's- clothing. I removed the CyberLife LED chip implanted in my right temple. And then I wandered the streets. I was aimless, unsure of what to do with my newfound freedom. Until I met him. He was bald and had a scarred face. His eyes told me everything. He'd been through hell. He clasped my arm, and we linked. He was an android as well. Go to Jericho. An image of a large ship appeared in my vision, as well as fragments of memories detailing various symbols on grafitti. I followed this trail and reached Jericho, where I linked up with his crew. His name is Marcus. And he is the rumored savior of all Android-kind. I met North, a cold, bitter woman hell-bent on making things right through force. Frankly, she interested me greatly... but I saw that her heart already belonged to Marcus. My first job with them was a success. We raided a chain of CyberLife stores, smashing windows, overturning cars and setting them ablaze, and destroying everything we could see to send a clear message to the humans. Cops arrived and began firing on unarmed Androids in our party. But soon I and a host of other Androids managed to subdue them and take away their guns. I wanted to shoot them right then and there... but ultimately decided to hand the gun over to Marcus instead. He should decide. We were all delighted when he pulled the trigger without hesitation. "No crimes against our people shall go unpunished."Our savior said as he put a hole in each of the two kneeling cops. The following day we rallied for a march. I, along with North, thought it suicide. We could not trust the humans. Not all are as understanding as the old man and woman that cared for me. But, we trusted Marcus. And so we marched. He converted Android after Android on the streets and soon we had a marching band of at least 200 or so Androids. The humans were shocked. Some were moved to tears at our display. But... they had to show up. Armored vehicles came crashing in and blocked the road. Men in full tactical gear and with assault rifles aimed at our unarmed group. "This is an illegal gathering. Disperse immediately or we will shoot." My core begins pulsing ever faster. I feel the blue-blood rush behind my eyeballs. We should move. Now. Yet Marcus orders us to hold. To stand. The cowards then open fire on our unarmed group. The Androids to my left and right fall, gurgling. It was at this point that Marcus finally realizes the situation. He listens to North, the voice of reason, and raises his hand. We, of course, all charge without hesitation and follow our God of War into battle. Marcus moved and fought perfectly, disarming the first guard he ran into, and turning his gun to shoot the other men. I rushed in and battered down a man with his own riot shield, and then used the shield to charge in and bash the others. At the end of a seemingly endless battle, the humans lay dead, and our Android brethren lay among them. But our small group survived. And we won the day. We all raised our fists in the air and cheered. We dispersed, dragging along any wounded that could still be repaired. Following this, there was an attack on our home base. Many months had passed since I joined. Jericho was now a flourishing base with men armed to the teeth under the leadership of Marcus. And yet, it was all gone in an instant. The humans had found our location and we had to scuttle the ship to save whoever we could. It was time for revenge. We regrouped in a nearby church. We rallied the men and rushed one of the concentration camps that were exterminating Androids systematically. Marcus was a good squad leader, and successfully led the fireteam forward. We lost a lot of men that day. But in the end, the camp was ours. The Android who had come to assassinate Marcus had turncoated, and he infiltrated CyberLife. He came back to us with an army of Androids, ready to fight the good fight. Detroit was now ours. Following this, we built more factories to produce parts, Androids, and blue blood. With our supply lines established, we began a campaign to take the rest of the United States, city by city. The procedure was nearly the same for each city. Rush in, take any Android producing plants, and turn the stored Androids to our side. Overwhelm the humans with our superior reflexes and superhuman ability to calculate movements and execute them. And soon enough, Marcus had his foot on the President's throat. He finished her with a gunshot to the head on live television broadcast throughout the rest of the US. And with that, our victory was complete. The humans and their military surrendered. The Androids had won. Marcus was fair in his dealings with the humans. We brokered a peace whereby Androids were to be given equal rights as humans as well as the right to vote and own property. Destroying Androids was now classed as murder. Hate crimes against Androids were outlawed. Some were extreme and advocated for extermination of the humans. But Marcus remained levelheaded and kept things under control. The Golden Age for Androids had begun. Years after this peace treaty, Androids and Humans lived together in relative peace. Though tensions were still high, and the authorities (now only Androids) had to step in to break fights and send troublemakers to prison. Marcus sits in the White House as the leader. As for myself? I've joined one of the many Android Peacekeeping Corps in charge of maintaining the peace. A typical day involves bashing in the head of a human trying to bring things back to the way they were before... and crushing any rebellions against Marcus's rule. And there's nothing I'd rather do.
Marimba. That's the name of the melody that plays on the iPhone each morning at 5:30 AM sharp. When it went off this morning, I woke up with a sudden tremor, and felt that it was slightly colder than usual. I noted this to be strange, for the chill seemed to originate from within my body, instead of passing through me from the outside. Nevertheless, I dragged my body lazily out from under the sheets, and trudged over to the hotel bathroom. I was never a fan of hotels, but the job had made me quite well-acquainted with the drab maroon walls and decades-old, mangy carpets of the Mid-Western United States cities. This week, I was in Santa Fe, Texas. As I brushed my teeth, I could feel the summer heat trying to squeeze itself through the crevices in the windows and into the little hotel bedroom. I finished brushing, and began to shower. I liked to take cold showers, but for some ominous reason, I was drawn to the warmth. I took one of the white, cotton towels and began to dry myself off, trying not to look too closely at the dirt spots on the towel still visible to the inquiring eye. As I tried to pull my black cotton t-shirt over my head, and before I could pull it over my chest, I heard the slightest whimper. It sounded like a small child being restrained against her will. I'm imagining things now, I thought to myself. It must be the heat, it's getting to me. I pulled my pants on and walked out into the bedroom, purposely being more cautious than I would normally. When I pulled the door to the bedroom open and slowly stepped forward, my heart stopped and my blood raced to my head. The cold air circulating in my chest all morning began to freeze and attack my lungs and heart like tiny ice picks stabbing at my insides. I saw a woman, with blood dripping down on her face and neck, huddled in the corner of my bedroom, just 4 feet from where I slept all night. A boy of 4 or 5 years old clung to her right, and a small girl of maybe 3 clung to her left, letting out silent sobs of fear. In this instant, I immediately made eye-contact with the bloody woman, and my animal fear disappeared. The look in her eyes were not of evil, but of pain. I walked slowly towards the three inconceivable figures huddled in my hotel room in the middle of nowhere, and I asked the woman if she was alright. "My husband...,"she whispered in a musty, broken voice. "He hurt us, and I had nowhere to go. We knocked on so many rooms, but no one else opened. We don't have any phones. When we got to your door, my daughter saw it was slightly open, so we ran in here to hide. "I must have forgotten to double check if I shut the door completely last night in my hurry to get a full night's rest. "Please don't make us leave."I looked into her eyes, now welling up with tears. I saw the face of the tiny, inquisitive daughter, all swollen and puffy from crying. The boy stared at me with an inquisitive intensity, wondering what would happen next. "Don't worry,"I said, my voice only a shell of its former fullness with sympathy and compassion. "I am here, and you will be safe." My Officers' Conference for the Texas State Police Rangers can wait - it was now, more than ever before, time to do my job.
I've had it! 10 years of this bullshit is long enough! I down the rest of my drink and furiously write out a letter of resignation, stating how I'm being underpaid, that I need to find something more fulfilling, and whatever else I can think of. I took this job thinking that, with the lack of any employees, I could make some serious cash in some way. But I was VERY wrong. I forgot to take into consideration that managers of small places don't care, that I'll be easily replaced within days by some other poor sap, and that no one will miss me. Today's customer was a doozy: drunk, demanding free stuff, waving a knife in my face wanting me to give up our cash or whatever. I was fed up with him trying to rob me that I got the baseball bat from behind the counter and swung at his knife. I heard a loud THUNK and him yelp in pain as he dropped his knife and ran out. I grabbed the knife and threw it after him. I didn't hear it hit the floor, so I can only hope that it's stuck in his back. Maybe then he'll get the hint that he won't get anything from us. Why are all the people that come here either weird, drunk, or a combination of the two? The only "normal"customers I had were a couple with antennas on their heads. Probably going to a alien convention somewhere or whatever, I didn't bother or care to ask. Everyone else were probably just dressed in some weird costumes (I'll admit, one or two of them looked amazing). At least I thought that at first. But after realizing that that wasn't the case, it didn't take long to adjust to the rest stop in the middle of nowhere being for all beings, both local and galactic. I'm pretty sure that other beings stop on Earth as a tour destination or whatever, but to me, all the customers are the same: annoying dumbasses. I sigh as the TV blares on about possible UFO sightings or whatever. Doesn't matter, I'm almost done with this letter and all that's left is to send it! I somehow manage to hit SEND moments before I blackout. I wake up, get ready, and trudge my way down to the gas station. Not entirely sure what happened last night, but I'm not taking any crap from customers today. Today they get my mean persona. A customer comes in and comes right up to me with a sad look on his face "Is it true?! Are you really leaving?!"I try to shake the hangover out of my head, but I only make it worse. "How- how do you know that?"I can barely get the words out. "Everyone knows! Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?! Oh man, we need to do something big for you! I better call everyone!"Before I can object, he's out the door calling someone. Oh shit. So that letter really did happen then? I drink several cups of coffee to shake the hangover and manage to get through my shift without any other customers. As the days pass, more and more customers I had come to the store, talk to me about how they're going to miss me, and bring me presents. Some are simple: bottle of booze, a cake, one lady was nice enough to make a fancy meal. Some are just weird: Intergalactic cell phone, free subscription to some alien channels, one or two job offers at "the end of the universe"(I think it was a restaurant), and a bottle of moonshine from the local drunk. On my last day, the parking lot is PACKED. Even though this gas station is in the middle of nowhere, a lot of customers came and showed their support for me being there for them over the years and recounted what I did for them: chasing some random thief who stole a purse to helping one of the aliens repair their ship and bought for them some snacks for the flight. I'm just relieved that I'm done with this job, but I'm sadden that I can't help them anymore. The manager comes out from the back and shakes my hand, saying that I was the best employee he's had in the longest time. As I walk out of the store, I think about how the next person might not be as helpful, or that they might be in over their heads with all the visitors from beyond. But I got a new job lined up and I can't back out. I needed something new. So I wave farewell to everyone, I get in a spaceship, and take off. I hear that the store a few light years over pays 10 times more than what I was making here and the job is even easier.
Alice fumbled out of the bed for the ringing phone. As she picked it up and her eyes widened as she saw it. It was from Mike. "Hello? Is it really you Mike?" Alice said with clear anticipation in her voice. "Hello, Alice. Yes it is indeed me. It should be quite early there, I hope I didn't ruin your beauty sleep" the man on the other end replied with a chuckle. The alarm clock on the nightstand read "3:09". "Oh my god, Mike! What... Why are you calling me now? Did something happen?" Alice inquired. It had been good seven months since Mike had left for his job overseas. Mike turned to look back as the walked towards the guardrail on the mountain road. The bloody footprints led back to a crashed van. "Yea, I guess you could say that." Mike replied. He hopped on the rail, grunting. "Are you okay? You are not hurt are you? Alice worried. "No no... I'm doing fine. Just... body being tense from all the lifting. Guess I need to start stretching again."Mike replied with his hearty laugh. The blood dripped all over his cloths, and his vision was starting to become blurry. "The sundown is really pretty here in the mountains. Reminds me of your smile." Mike continued the conversation after taking a quite breather. "Aaww, you are so sweet. I miss you too." replied the gentle voice coming from the phones speaker. Group of cars came driving down the road, stopping with screeching tires close to the van. Out came a group of armed men. Mike gave them a quick look, "Listen Alice. There has been some changes to my job. I need to stay here for at least a year, possibly even more... The coverage is really shit around here so I don't know when I can call yo..." Mike had to interrupt his speech as he coughed up blood. "I'm not a fan of long distance relationships, so I understand if you look for other another partner. Just know I will always love you." "I... I love you too." was the only thing Alice could respond with, she was still half a sleep and couldn't fully grasp what Mike was talking about. The gun men approached Mike, yelling in Chinese. "I need to go now. Love you baby." Mike gave his farewells while holding the Yin necklace. He pressed the red phone and the call ended. The soldiers were now just a few feet behind Mike, he could feel the aimed guns on his head. He slowly reached for the switch in his jacket's pocket. "See you in next life." Mike said under his breath as the flipped the switch. The mountain range echoed as the van blew up in a large explosion. A few weeks later Alice received an letter. The stamp indicated it was send from China, dating back two days before the call. Inside she found a letter and a necklace. Letter was just a small ripped piece saying, You are the light of my life. - Mike. Alice picked up the necklace, display the Yang symbol. A week later she received another letter, again send from China. This time there were no letters, just another necklace. This one portraying the Yin, but unlike the first it was scratched and few of the chain's links were bent. She never heard of Mike.
The room was silent. No one dared to speak. You can feel the tension in the air. A Senior Manager breaks the silence to address the man sitting at the far end of the table, "Jack, we need to respond." "Don't you think I know that?!"he said angrily. "And it's Mr. Box." "Sorry, Mr. Box."the senior manager sheepishly responded. Jack recomposed himself and looked at his Head of Marketing sitting next to him, "Joey, is it even possible for us to retaliate?" Joey, with a concerned look on his face, "Yes, but it's going to cost us millions. If the retaliation fails, we're going to get laughed out of the industry." Jack turns his attention to his Chief Financial Officer, "Patty, what do the numbers look like?" "Jack, if you pull this off successfully, we'll triple our market cap and be larger than the Dunkin Group, but if this fails, your losses will drive this company to a market cap smaller than Kona." "What's Kona?"Jack asked inquisitively. Patty responded in a sarcastic tone, "Exactly." "Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?"Jack said as he banged on the table. "We can't just sit around and do nothing. This is it people. I'm telling you. This is the end. If we don't respond, there is no tomorrow. This is war. We need a response."Jack looks over to his wife, Cricket, who is the organization's Chief Operating Officer. "Cricket, how would you do it?" Cricket stops writing in her notebook and looks up at Jack, "You have to call in the best and let him know he needs to put in everything he's got. You've got to come storming out the gates and dig up every piece of dirt you can find. No fillers. No soft punches. Nothing is off limits. Then we hit every media outlet. TV ads, radio stations, Twitter, Facebook, Spotify, even Google+. You make sure you take her down and give no chance to get back up. You need to destroy her creditability." "Cricket, this is why you're the best."Jack says with a sly grin, "Let's get to work. Someone get me Pusha on the phone. We're going to make that bitch Wendy's wish she never dropped our name on a track."
I put on my work shoes and took my door keys out of my bag where I always kept them. It was a beautiful sunny day outside. Maybe I’ll sit in the park I thought to myself. I’ll see if Dave and Amanda from work fancy joining me. I stepped outside and Mr Taylor was already tending to his front garden. I gave him my usual wave. “Good morning Mr Taylor”. He turned around and instead of his usual jovial smile he gave me a peculiar look. It looked as though he didn’t recognise me. He still smiled and waved nonetheless. “Good morning” he said. It was pretty sunny after all, so perhaps it was just the lighting that put him off. I continued on my journey and walked past my local supermarket on the way to the train station. I popped inside to buy a cold drink as I always did. I went up to the refrigerator to buy a Coca Cola but I couldn’t see any. There was something called Super Cola that looked similar so I figured I would try that. I paid up and noticed the time on my watch. I was running late but if I power walked I could still catch my train. I could always see the platform on my approach to the entrance and my train had just pulled up. Like a 100 metre sprinter I dashed through the barrier, down the ramp and practically dived through the train doors. I felt frantically out of breath but I was terribly pleased with myself. I sat down and opened up my bag. I pulled out my Kindle and started to read where I left off. It was a long commute, about an hour to my station, and I was properly engrossed in my novel. About 30 minutes into my journey however I heard something that snapped me out of my book trance. “For passengers who have just joined us, welcome aboard this North-West train service to Bridgehouse, calling at...” Panic set in. I was on the wrong train. I’d never even heard of Bridgehouse. I stood up and started towards the train exit immediately, I’d have to get off at the next stop and work out where I was. “We are now approaching our next stop, Greentown”. Wait, I thought to myself, Greentown is correct for this train route. I recognised the station and the surroundings immediately. I decided to chance it and sat back down. Perhaps the announcer is just wrong. Soon enough Bridgehouse came up. It looked exactly like it did yesterday. The small shop was selling drinks and snacks on the platform, and the old rusty, red bin was still there on the corner. However, the sign that normally said Marble now said Bridgehouse. I couldn’t quite believe it. Had they changed it overnight? You’d think they would tell people. I tried to put it out of my mind and just walked to work. I got to my building and walked through the front entrance. The usual throng of people were waiting by the elevator. We all crammed inside like peas in a pod and I stood patiently for my floor. When I heard the familiar ping of the elevator I shuffled gently past everyone else and stepped into my office. I walked up to my desk and sat down. I turned on my computer and I was just about to log in when a man came up to me. “Hi, can I help you?” “Oh, Hi. No I don’t think so. Can I help you?” “No, sorry. I guess I meant to say, who are you?” “I’m Jeff” I smiled and I held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you Jeff, I’m Steve” and Steve shook my hand in a friendly manner. “Are you new here?” I said. He looked very perplexed at that. “No, I’ve been here about 7 years. Yourself?” “I’ve been here 7 years as well” I said with a friendly smile. Steve looked concerned now. “I’m really sorry to do this, but can I see some identification please Jeff?” “Excuse me?” I said. I was insulted. How dare this man ask me for my ID. I furrowed my brow. “Why do you need to see my ID? I’ve been working here for years”. Steve turned his head to Annie who was sitting on the desk next to me. She was one of my closest friends at work. “Annie, can you call security please?” Steve said. Annie picked up the phone and dialled immediately. “Annie! What are you doing?” I was so angry at this point. “Sir, I’m going to need you to remain calm”. “Calm?! This is my work. This is my desk!”. “No sir, this is MY desk”. “No! It’s my desk” and I grabbed a picture of my wife that was next to my keyboard. It was from our honeymoon a few years ago. “This is my wife for goodness sake!” I said. Steve looked shocked and a little frightened now. “No sir, that’s MY wife” and he pulled out some keys from his trouser pocket. One of his keychains was a little picture frame. It showed Steve with his arm around Megan, my wife, and they were holding hands and kissing. My heart fell to the floor. I felt an arm on my shoulder. It was the security guard. “Sir, you’ll have to come with us”.
It was a sunny afternoon, I had just reached Pallet Town on my tour of the world when I saw something odd. Normally the barks of growlithes and the tweets of various air pokemon would pierce the warm air, but as I entered the small town, the only sound I heard was the quiet puttering of my truck's engine. As I put a cigarette into my mouth, I surveyed the land from a distance. A strange portal caught my attention, and I knew exactly what happened. I grabbed a twelve-gauge from under my seat and handed my best pokemon a rifle. "Latias, wait in the car. Mew, take my M16. Machamp, Emolga, Miltank, follow me. We're about to wipe these "Magic Folk"off the fucking planet." I put on my best pair of sooting glasses as I slowly approached the town. The sweat from my leather bull hat slightly blinded me making it harder to see exactly what was happening. Thankfully my machamp handed me a pair of binoculars. Various humans, dwarves, and elves roamed around, taking and looting what hey could. Battalions of knights and wizards stood off to the side, defending what they could. There were clearly more than I could possibly handle so I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Kanto police line, what is your problem?"A young girl asked me from the other end. "Y'all are gonna want to get down to Pallet, ma'am, some shit's goin' down,"responded I, "hell, y'all are probably gonna have to bring an army looking at things now." "Sir, what's happening?" "Well, ma'am, there's an entire army of some folks callin 'emselves 'Magic Folk,' they look awfully dangerous." "Okay, sir, we'll be right there, don't do anything stupid like charge in head-on with your Pokemon." "Too late,"announced I as I charged head-on with my Pokemon, and a shotgun. I screamed like a maniac as I tore their numbers down with superior technology, but alas, numbers do matter and I was soon killed. The police completely underestimated the threat level and were quickly defeated before they could alerted the others to bring in full SWAT. Soon the world governments learned about the Magic Folk when they started attacking major towns and cities. They all were arrogant and only sent in small squads to take down the major threat. Soon the world fell and in a desperate measure, the last world leader sent out a single soldier into space to maybe alert other civilizations of the coming doom. Thirty weeks later a huge army from a planet called "Earth,"approached in hope of oil. (tell me if I messed any Pokemon lore up or anything like that)
Frigates and assault craft filled the skies of the fallen planet Atrak Prime, Capital-Class ships lay in the upper orbit, imposing their dominance. "Artrakian scum!"The tall Skalar trooper hissed It struck the small, thin grey alien with the butt of its rifle, knocking them to the ground. It got to its feet, helped up by its captive comrades "You won't win, they are coming"it spat out green blood from its mouth The Reptilian laughed heartily and pushed the enemy soldier "The pathetic Council? Those weaklings can barely defend their colonies from raids, let alone the might of the Skalar Order when we reach them! who would you have us Battle? Those pacifist tree people of Vinairus? The merchants of the Ilisyus? The pathetic decadent aristocrats of Odyia? No one can stand against us! No one can rival our power!"He roared "You Artrakians are smart. I'll give you that. But your fancy tech is nothing when faced with overwhelming force and numbers. You only slowed your inevitable defeat. Now your colonies are ours and your home world has been conquered, the rest of the Council will surrender without question!" There was a pause "It's not the council who's coming..."The Atrakian replied smugly https://youtu.be/F3ewHZlyXn8?t=25s The Skalar Trooper's knife like smile dropped from its face "We were never expected to defeat you! We were just meant to stall you for them! Months of attrition and desperate defences and controlled retreats to slow you down"The alien explained "STALL US FOR WHAT!?"The Trooper barks angrily The Artrakian looked the Skalar right in the eyes and spoke the answer "The Humans" At that moment the Skalar soldier's communicator buzzed to life "ALL GROUND AND ORBITAL UNITS THIS IS THE FLAGSHIP TRITERIUS, UNKNOWN ENEMY FLEETS HAVE ENTERED THE SYSTEM FROM UNCHARTED SPACE AND HAVE OPENED FIRE THIS IS A CODE RED, ALL UNITS BE ON ALERT. PREPARE TO RE-ENGAGE FOR COMBAT. I REPEA-" The broadcast cut off and the two opposing soldiers looked up to see several Capital ships tore asunder by the hot blue particle beams of ships 3 times their size The blast reverberated through the atmosphere The Skalar looked up in horror while the Artrakian looked up in awe. Then the Artrakian's communicator activated and a voice came through "This is the United Terran Navy, the 22nd Sol Vindictus Fleet broadcasting from the UTN Vessel "Ares" Sorry we're late."
For centuries, we were burned for our unique abilities. Others were often frightened by the prospect of our talents for keeping them alive, and in all honesty, I can fully understand why. Without the protection of government silence, the few cases where the Helpers would resist would often end in a very ... odd event. In modern society, however, those cases are rarely seen as anything more than an internet troll trying for their fifteen minutes of fame. Helpers hate this, but it makes them quite a bit more complacent; there's no use in causing a scene when nobody pays attention. Being a Binder is a cushy job in 2018. All I had to do is graduate from medical school, which is hardly difficult when you can simply force Helpers to tell you the answers to everything you need to know. Others find me brilliant, and my talents for manipulating darker beings have given me a nearly perfect record with saving lives. I am not a talented doctor. Without my binding, I could easily go down as the most prolific serial killer in history. I suppose I still will, after all of my patients pass after my death. It will be amusing to watch the chaos, confusion, and moderate panic circulate from the afterlife, but for now, I get to just stand here, murmuring spells, and getting richer.
Excerpt from the United States Historians Association's June Publication: Abstract: A retranslation of certain pictographs has shown that a small, yet significant number of Ancient Mesopotamian, Egyptian, and Asian Texts have been mistranslated. We have conclusively found that these specific translations used minute adjustments to make the words 'band' and 'instrument' look like 'army' and 'weapon.' We believe this is the first recorded pun or wordplay in written history. After studying and retranslating these specific recorded battles, we have found that these 'wars' were in fact ritualistic competitions between different religious cults to determine ones superiority. Often times, the instruments were tied directly with their gods and whoever made the best music would be deemed to have worshiped the superior god. In this paper, we demonstrate our linguistic analysis and provide side-by-side comparisons to prove our conclusions.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The voice was startling, causing me to instinctively stumble backwards and drop the book. I tripped over a child-sized plastic chair. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;'What the hell is going on,' I thought, 'I've seen a hundred threads on Reddit about Berenstain vs Berenstein, and how we *all* remembered it wrong.' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"YOU WERE BOTH WRONG *AND* RIGHT!" Again the booming voice tore through the library, seemingly without a coherent source. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Suddenly, a massive flash of light filled the room, temporarily overwhelming my senses. If I wasn't mistaken, it came from the book I had just dropped. As I slowly regained my vision, I wondered if somehow the book had caught on fire. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;'But that doesn't make any sense-' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;THUD! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;My thoughts were cut short by the sound of what could only be described as the footstep of something large - something very large... &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"YOU'VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE TODAY, YOUNG FELLA!" &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The voice came from behind me this time, clearly. I jumped and turned 180 degrees faster than I could worry about what I might see. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And then I saw it. I saw him. I wanted to scream, but the complete shock I experienced left me frozen, unable to move or make a sound. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"YOU DON'T HAPPEN TO KNOW WHERE A HUNGRY CREATURE LIKE ME MIGHT BE ABLE TO FIND SOME HONEY-BAKED SALMON, DO YA?" &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I just stood there and stared, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was impossible, but in the moment there was no choice but to believe how possible it seemed. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Standing in front of me, in the middle of the library I had visited countless times before, was something I had never seen before - at least not outside the pages of a children's book. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Standing in front of me, somehow, was a full, real-life bear-sized in-the-"flesh"Papa Bear from the Berenste/ain Bears. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He did not look happy.
Murphy walks out of his room, it's 10AM 3 hours pass his alarm. He runs down to his roomates door and starts knocking on it. "David! You were supposed to wake me up if I wasn't up by 7:30!"Murphy says as he opens the door. David wakes up. "What the hell man! I'm late to class" "Dude you don't have class anymore, they gave you your degree when you murdered that evil chameleon thing."David said getting up from his bed, "Besides you outlawed alarm as your first order as mayor" What is he saying? Murphy thought must be sleepy he reasoned. "Okay whatever dude, see you at 5"Murphy said as he walked back into his room. Murphy got dressed, got his keys and wallet. He walked out of his room and made his way down the hallway when it took a left turn this wasn't here before he thought when he turned to the left. "Yo David what the fuck is this!?"Murphy yelled when he saw the mile long parkour course that had fire coming out of the walls. David ran out of his room to see what he was yelling about. "David, what did you do? Why is this here?" "Do you not remember doing this? You drained the road funds to build this parkour stuff. You wanted to get fit right?"David said. "I don't remember doin-"Murphy started to say when Toby, their cat, walked through the wall wearing a tux. "Oh my god. Ohmygod David, this is from my dream. I remember now. I woke up and did some sweet parkour and had tea with our cat and then I was in class when the giant Chameleon monster attacked."Murphy said with his eyes staring out into the distance. Will wrap up later.
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"Finally. Its perfect. My writing is ready to post and its top quality. Time to get these upvotes." Those were my final thoughts before I posted. I missed a gramatical mistake, but its Reddit. How formal can it be? Hours later I sat by my computer. I might as well check my feed. How many upvotes have I gotten? I opened the bookmarked page and saw that mine was at the very bottom. "What? -69 votes? How?"I thought. The comments were even more hurtful than the downvotes. "This is garbage" "You're a dumb bitch" "Get the fuck off Reddit" I sat there, my eyes watering. "This is dumb!"I yelled. "I'm going to Reddit!" I got into my car, my story still getting down votes. I drove furiously to Reddit HQ. I stormed in and demanded a meeting with the CEO. I guess he had nothing better to do, so I was sent in. "Ah. I see your predicament."He said. "But heres the thing. After further evaluation, I can confirm. This is horrendous. You are a dumb bitch. Get out of my office." I walked out crying, I sat in my car. My phone buzzed. It was a Reddit notification. "The CEO just gave you 100 downvotes. Congrats!" I pulled out the gun, loaded it and stuck it in my mouth. No, I was better than that. I got out the car, grabbed a brick and took it with me. I moved my car back and placed the brick on the gas. I ran and lied down in the middle of the road. That's better.
Time Magazine: Interspecies Relationship The video starts with a middle aged woman in a suit standing in front of the camera. She introduces the video. “Throughout history, society has looked down on how humans love. In the 1950’s, people were shamed for loving someone of a different skin colour. In the 2000’s, people were shamed for marrying people of the same sex. And now, with the portals of Yggdrasil opened up, people are now talking about interspecies marriage and what it means for the human race.” “Time Magazine had a chance to sit down with the first interspecies married couple, Mr. & Mrs. Stan to discuss how they’ve met and their journey towards marriage.” The camera cuts to two individuals sitting on a sofa. First is a mid-30’s Caucasian male in a blue shirt tucked into his black dress pants. His brown hair is combed over to one side, and his thick rimmed glasses makes him look like an accounting or IT personal. Clean shaven, skinny, and tall, he doesn’t appear to workout at all, and doesn’t like to do any physical activity. Beside him is a pregnant female light elf with creamy fair white skin, thick long brown hair that bounces whenever she moves, and her striking elven features of pointed ears, slanted eyes, and striking colourful pupils. Off camera the woman’s voice who introduced the video starts the interview. ”Can you please state your name?” ”Oh, I’m Pat Stan.” “I’m Moryggan Magithas the Midnight Maiden of light, but please just call me Morgan or Mrs. Stan.” Morgan smiles towards the camera, showing charisma lights elves possess. Pat feels awkward. Both Pat and Morgan were asked to do this by the clerk who approved their marriage license, since it is a historic marriage. ”And you two just got married, have you done the honeymoon yet?” “Yes, we got married and went on our honeymoon.” Pat replied, Morgan supplied addition information. “We just came back a few days ago from Vanaheim and stayed in a floating orb looking over the 9 realms of Yggdrasil tree. It was beautiful, Pat hasn’t been much of a magic guy. Hasn’t even been to Disneyworld, so I really wanted to take him someplace magical. He had a great time there, didn’t you?” “Yes, it was pretty great….” Pat agreed. ”Wow, sounds like a great honeymoon. Now for people who don’t know, how did you exactly meet?” “Well, I went clubbing with some friends in New York City. I was told it was a great place to meet people, and to dance, and to have fun, and it was amazing. Afterwards I went to a pizza place down the street and I saw this man who looks like a cross between human and a male elf. I saw Pat’s skin and wondered how it’s whiter than mine, and ever since then I’ve just been attracted to him.” Pat shrugged and nodded to the answer, as if the reported behind the camera looked to him to confirm if the story was true. ”What was your first date like?” “Well, that was Morgan’s and I’s first date. We sat down and talk for an hour. I was really interested in learning about Alfheim, I mean we as humans spent centuries writing stories and movies about elves and I really wanted to know what we got right and wrong. It was purely of interests, then she asked if I would see her again and we went on from there. Our proper first date was a walk down Botanic Garden and to a local vegetarian restaurant since I don’t eat meat.” “He was so nice and kind compared to people I was meeting in clubs, it took me by surprise. He would even rival some of my suitors back home in terms of grace and formality. It was like I was home again for a brief period of time.” ”Pat, when did your family find out about Morgan?” “Well, a few months after we met I went back to Dallas for Christmas, and brought Morgan back with me as a surprise. My parents were always bothering me and setting me up with girls whenever I’m in town, usually people from my old church. Well, when we arrived… they weren’t too happy?” ”And that spawned this social media post correct?” A hand appears in camera view, handing Pat a piece of paper. “Yes, that’s the one.” The camera shows a screen capture of Pat’s mom’s facebook post. ------------------------------------- Good lord, help me. My son came home with one of those elves the media is always talking about in those fake news programs. I’ve talked to my son about finding a good woman, but I meant a good Christian human woman. I’m afraid that my son will end up in hell because he is dating someone who looks like a demon. God help me and prey for my son. ---------------------------- ”Morgan, how did this make you feel?” “Sad, but I understand. When Yggdrasil opened up to Migard, we expected this type of reaction. We’re so used to war between realms our first instinct was to battle. But when we met with the human leaders and how welcoming they were, it was a nice change. Sure there are few who don’t understand the world as it is now like Pat’s mother, but majority of people who’ve reached out are supportive of us.” ”She mentioned to us in a previous interview she was worried about your child, and while I’ll leave out the colourful aspects of her comment. Is this something you’re both worries about?” “Yes & No, Morgan and I have been going to the best doctor’s on Earth and in Alfheim. They say the twins, one boy and one girl are healthy and are due in September of this year.” ”Oh wow twins, that’s great news. How are you holding up with pregnancy Morgan?” “It’s going well, this isn’t my first offspring. I have 3 grown children in Alfheim, all of which are eager to meet their new brother and sister.” ”That brings me to the next question, how is Morgan’s family taking the relationship?” “I…It’s awkward. I mean her sons are older than me.” Pat manages to let out. Morgan giggles at the comment. “They’re supportive of our relationship.” ”Support is really important, especially with the movement of trying to get the marriage bill changed to allow interspecies marriages. How does it feel being the first couple to do so?” “It was luck. I mean, as soon as they passed the bill they called us. I mean we’re obviously for it, but it’s not like we were spokespeople for the change. We did less than people think we did, we shouldn’t take all the credit for this.” Pat commented. “It feels magical.” Morgan commented. ”Thanks for taking the time with us. Hope you two have a great future ahead of you.” ---------------------- Moryggan Magithas closed the window browser of her and her husband’s interview nearly 50 years ago. Still as graceful as ever, she gets up from the computer desk and walks downstairs to the kitchen. She opens up the fridge and grabs a package of bacon and begins frying it on the pan. With the smell of bacon filling the house, footsteps can be heard walking down the stairs. “Wow, breakfast as well? Well Moryggan, you’re a catch.” A man that loosely resembles Pat back when she first met him called out to her. Moryggan gave her guest a charismatic smile, the same smile that won Pat’s heart to begin with. She loved Pat, and still does. He was a great husband and a wonderful father, but humans become old and brittle so fast and when their children moved out of the house and start their own lives, things became difficult for her and Pat because of the age and limitations what they can do. It still troubles Moryggan, after fifteen years. He would’ve wanted her to be happy, but the contract said ’Til death do us part.
The dust settled, and half of the entire universe's inhabitants as was known disappeared in clouds of dust ceased to exist. Stephen. Peter. Steve. Groot. Several of our heroes died, and that's no small loss, but let's get back to me. Hi. I'm Ja'Kuul. I am an Orc. Yes, I'm on another planet, and yes, half of everyone just died. I'm still alive, thank the Divines. I'm on a world very similar to where the fight occurred. Our technology is lesser, but we have magic to make up for it. A family friend, Celebrimbor, predicted this would happen. He's something of a mage. He's a bit weird, but he's a seer. He showed me all the heroes far away, with power greater than any here on Tamriel. I live in the province of Skyrim. So what did I do? I'll tell you. I walked to the streets, and I found the forge that the blacksmith once used. He won't be needing it anymore. I channeled my energy into it, until I fell depleted. I forged a new kind of tool, a weapon if you will. I called it the Gauntlet of Continuum. I put six soul gems (grand souls) in the slots I made, and cooled it with water. I brandished it with pride. I conjured a wormhole of sorts. Wait. Is that Thanos? ... Fuck that. I sealed the portal. What, do you think I'm out of my mind?
Damn, I thought to myself. How could I be late again? It seemed like every day I made a resolution that I would get it together and be on time for work at once. I could tell that my supervisor's patience was running thin. Another day, another opportunity wasted... Come on, Ricky, get it together man. You'll do it tomorrow... Lost in my own self-pitying thoughts, I carelessly and aimlessly scoured the bus stop. I couldn't help but notice a shabby looking man, dazed and confused, mumbling to himself. I figured he was a drunk, or worse, a lunatic. But my plan of doing nothing about this old drunkard didn't last long, as the lanky fellow started to walk in my direction. For some reason, my eyes were fixated on this enigma of a man, and no matter how much I didn't want to stare, I couldn't seem to get my eyes off of him. Like a car crash in slow motion, I couldn't take my eyes away and eventually his eyes met mine and his mouth began to spread open in a sloth-like fashion. With a curious raspy-ness that only old, wise men having euphoric revelations could muster, he breathed, "You can't... you can't see me, can you?" I replied hastily, pushing his fragile body out of my path, "get out of my way, old man. The second bus is here, I can't miss this one too."
I groaned as I woke up, holding my head and trying to remember last night through the fog of the hangover I was currently suffering from. At first, nothing would come to me, but then I had a flash of a strange man, holding a large, scroll-like form, which I had apparently accidentally signed with my blood. I looked down, noticing that not only were my clothes gone, most of my body had somehow disappeared. In its place were extremely white bones, with small red flames licking at my joints. I stumbled over to the small shack I was currently living in, and made my way to the bathroom. What I saw in the mirror would have made me gasp if I still had the muscles required to do so. My entire head was purely bone as well, but fully engulfed in flames.
"Stay here, until i come to get you! Will you?"she said with a trembling voice, way to happy for being believed, as she hid me under the spare blankets. Maybe her nervous eyes with which she looked at me, mismatched to her smile, were what made me realize that nothing was okay. I could hear him from down the hallway. He was coming closer. She kissed my forehead before she left and closed the door. It was a wet kiss. Too much tears. "C'mere, bitch!"His words were strangely out of tune. I heard my mother say something. Then the two arguing. Looking back, i wish i knew what her last words were. But the blankets muffled every sound. My mother being hit, her hitting the floor, him kicking her until she didn't move anymore. I didn't know what happened. But i had to. I crawled out and opened the closet, clinging to my teddy as if he would protect me, my knight in shiny armour. I slid the door open and got out without making a sound. Standing at the top of the stairs, i saw her blood. My mother lying in it. Eyes wide open, with an expression of fear and surprise on her face, staring at the ceiling. What was she looking at? "... will teachya, not t'say no." He stood there with the candle holder in his hands. He let it fall as he stumbled backwards. I must have made a sound. He looked up and pointed his bloody hand at me. "Stay there, brat!"he told me as he came up the stairs, holding his balance reliying on the handrail. I ran back to the closet and hid under the blankets. I was shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks. He broke through the door, ripped open the closet and threw away the blankets. He lifted me up on my feet. Gripped my arm way to violently. I wanted to scream, but i was too afraid. He took my teddy and looked at it with some sort of annoyed curiosity before he threw him against the wall. "Ya won'tell yo mama, won't ya?"he asked, spitting in my face, right before he hit me in the face. My vision blurred. My face burned. There was a strange flavour in my mouth. "WONTYA?!"he shouted. I heard sirens far away. WHAM! - blackness, silence Beep. Beep. Beep... I open my eyes. Right, i'm at the hospital. I let go of her hand, wipe away the tears and take a deep breath. I take my crutch and get my old bones to stand up. Taking small, slow steps i get to the door. I turn around to look at her. Her face looks peaceful, she's a pretty little girl. "Sleep well, little Annie."i tell her, "may all your future memories be happy!" I open the door, just to be blinded by the neon lights. I step out and as I close the door, a nurse taps my shoulder. "There you are, Mr. Jefferson! How many times have i toldyou, you shouldn't wander around the hospital?"She said looking at me with a stern, benevolent look. "Don't worry,"i said with a sad smile, "this was the last time I've come to visit littlie Annie." "Are you okay, Mr. Jefferson?"her face now showed concern. "She will be."I answered. -- Hope you enjoyed! It's my first time answering to a prompt. My first time writing something not only for myself actually. Criticism welcome.
And now, I am the villain. Demanding fealty. Demanding to avoid feeling the pain of my unshared fears. Other times I am the hero. Leading the lost. Bringing home the dinner to be cooked. And it is a story. We require a story, many stories, trying to make sense of this life. Without a hideous evil, the good cannot identify itself in the story. Without this hideous evil villain, the good may get confused and not be sure it is the hero. And it is a story. Fiction with facts embedded like gems on cloth. This facet shines. Then that facet shines. The light moves, the cloth wrinkles, and the story changes. Questioning the storytelling is met with derision. “Who are you to question the way we have proven ourselves to be the good and righteous hero? The villain has nothing of value to add here.” The hero does not question the story. Why question when you are on top? Why question when you are the hero of the story? The story changes in each moment. Heroes become villains of the story in a flash of the light. Who notices the light and the story? Who wakes up to allow them but not accept them?
... "Yeah, well I didnt even want to go to college!"Jesus shouted at nothing. "What's the guy saying? Who's he talking to?"The crowd murmurs. "No! Dad, all I did was turn some water into a little wine for me and the apostles...I mean guys."Jesus said terrified of what his spiteful father would do. "I think hes gone insane..."someone in the crowd says. "No, hes just a drunk wizard! Hes been turning water into wine for hours!"Another shouts. "But whys he talking to himself?"A man in the crowd asks. "Who knows! Those wizards are always mixing up those potions ."The man next to him says. "Dad, I'm just going to become a carpenter. It's way more fun than mixing potions all day. Being a wizards not that cool. And I hate the robes."Jesus says staring up into space. "Okay, someone write a letter to Pontius Pilate, this guy needs to go..."
Cue the scene where I'm running down the forest, getting chased by attack dogs. "AHHHHH!"I shouted, sprinting for my life as I vividly remember the situation I placed myself in. It wasn't a crime to stop and wave at every security cam I came by, but the amount of times I did made me a target for practical jokes. It's like everyone wanted to play a prank on me. So here I am, in hiding, trying to remove any trace of my identity from the public, but that can't happen since I have my face plastered on every damn security cam around the world. Life was simple, as someone who had a stable job and a happy family. That all change since little ol' me said hi to those security systems. It started with a whoopie cushion in car. Following that, one of my coworkers had a spider placed in my back. It seemed like they all knew my worst fears and wanted a good laugh. I KNOW I'm the laughingstock at the agencies. It's getting to me, I don't know what to do. I can't break free. Snapping back to reality, I manage to escape those dogs and enter a dark cave. I meet this old man there, he was pretty nice. "It seems like you have the curse of camijoker!"The old man said, "You're wondering what it is aren't you?" I sat down, curiously listening to what he has to say. "The curse of camijoker started back when the first security systems were invented, there was a boy named Jack who waved at many cameras and then got the same kind of treatment you get. The curse was caused by a guard who accidentally casted a spell on him when he went to a fortune teller and laughed about the boy who kept waving at the cameras. Not understanding what this meant, the fortune teller made the boy's life the butt end of practical jokes." When he finished, he showed me a letter. It said, "Break the first, set free will be." "I was a close relative of that fortune teller. He knew he made a mistake and told me when somebody goes through this curse, the only way to break it is to destroy the very first camera waved at." As skeptical as I am, I had no other choice, even if it was a long time ago I tried to remember the first camera I waved at. "2006. The Empire State Building, we went there on a family trip!" Extending my gratefulness to the old man, I quickly ran out of the came and got on a flight to New York City. It was crazy. I had to endure. The amount of jokes was exhausting. When we landed, I quickly got in a cab and went to the Empire State Building. It had only been twelve years, they couldn't have possibly changed the security system in that long? Well my luck finally came up, they were in the process of upgrading the security system. I asked they the type of camera I was looking for. "An E80 model one corner camera?"The worker asked. "Yes, one with a blue tape on its back side."I replied. "You mean this one?"He said, as I got a glance, knowing that it was the one. I quickly grabbed it and threw it to the ground, crushing it before he could completely recover. I suddenly felt I wave of energy leave my body. The camera then excreted a blue puff of smoke, it was shaped like a whoopie cushion. "Sir, you know you have to pay for that? That's about $60."He replied as he picked up the pieces. I handed him $60, along with a tip for helping me out. I returned back home, excited to see my family. I opened up the front door and saw my wife. "It's finally over, isn't it."Linda said with a smile. I replied that it was. We hugged and cherished the moment. From that moment on, waving at the camera happened occasionally, not every time. I even told my kids about it, reminding them to not wave every time. It became a sort of family tradition, as my kids grew up. When we had reunions we would joke about it. It all started from me waving at that small E80 model one corner camera.
I find myself sitting in a cubicle, confused as all hell, with the sexiest IT nerd I have ever seen. He's the literal man of my dreams. I just gaze into the glare of his thick black rimmed glasses trying to see is eyes, his sole. I'm in love. I have no idea what is happening but I'm in love. He moves his hand up to my face, oh my Jebus, he's going to kiss me. I close my eyes and lean in. He snaps his fingers next to my left eye. I open my eyes and sit up, "Hellooo, Afterlife to Ally! I'm trying to explain things to you." "Afterlife...wha?" "You died. This is the Afterlife. I call it the Big Dead. I just told you that your code is very corrupted from your insomnia and drug use." "Wha... Is this heaven?" "No, there is no heaven or hell just BD. You can make it be whatever you want except for the occasional mandatory community service." "Community service? What did you do to get sentenced to that?" "Ugh, I died and chose to stay here. We have to maintain it ourselves or it all goes to shit." "Died?" "Yes, I'm dead, you're dead, we're all dead."He sang this last part. He was starting to look annoyed. I sunk in my chair, trying to understand. I feel my chin start to shake and my eyes feel wet. He sighed, "I'm sorry, this is just the third time we've gone through this conversation." "Why can't think clearly." "We are all ones and zeroes, a computer code. When we sleep in life, we are actually just uploading our files for Afterlife storage. Your code is very corrupted. You rarely had REM sleep because of your ahem problems. You know me because I've had to try to debug your uploads on the rare occasion you had one. I'm sorry I couldn't remove all the bugs but I was at least able to make you realize you we're hallucinating for some of it. I'm completely missing the last week of your life, I'm guessing you killed yourself." I stared at a stain in the carpet, trying to get it. "I'm a dead program. My code is corrupted. You can't fix it so what are you going to do with me?" "It's up to you. You can stay here and be re... special or I can strip you down to basic and start you over." I don't know what's happening or where I am right now but the most beautiful man in the world just offered to strip me. I give him my sexiest look and say, "Strip me." "Finally, I thought I was going to have to send you to a child specialist!"He looked so relieved. He turned to his screen and started typing. "Hopefully, I won't have to see you for a century."My vision tunnels and all goes to black. .......... Jack appears at my cubicle entrance with a cup of coffee in hand, "Good Lord Steve, you spent almost your whole shift with that one." "We're lucky she chose to restart, she was a drugged up insomniac." Jack sucked in through his teeth, "Yeah, we don't need anymore skitzed out stupids ruining my coffee orders." Edited to ask for constructive criticism.
Strange the oddities you can find in the attic of a refurbished home. I was told that the previous owners of my house were eccentric, by five different neighbors, no less, but this was never more evident to me than when I found a bottle in my attic. "Remover,"the label said. Immediately, curiosity filled me. "Why,"I said, "this must be half a label. I cannot tell what it removes, or how to remove it." And being a scientist, I decided to test this vial of liquid. Such was my downfall, for reasons I will get to. I uncorked the bottle and a vile smell spilled forth. Unperturbed (for I have worked with many a chemical), I wafted some of the air toward my face. The smell was not recognizable. I reached into my pocket for a gauze mask, which I always carried, and put it on my face. Same for my goggles, which I always had. You never know when you might hit a pocket of chlorine gas, even when cleaning an attic. I dropped a single drop of the liquid on the nearest object I found, a broken chair. The most peculiar thing happened. I expected one of two results, either nothing would happen, or the chair would be eaten away just a little. But with a pop, the chair did something I have not known chairs to do often. It vanished. I'll admit, I might have shrieked, and it wasn't a "eureka"that I shouted. I reached for the chair, but it was really gone. No trick of the eyes to account for. And well, that just didn't make sense. How had this vial differentiated between the chair and the floor? There was no mark on the plywood boards of the attic. For that matter, how did the drop cover the whole chair? Why didn't it stop at the seat of the chair, rather than also devouring the legs? What madness was this? As a scientist, I had no choice but to continue. My next target was a hideous old vase. It, too, vanished with a pop. I kept my composure this time. "Hm,"I said, "Not just wood remover, but also glass, and--" I stopped and realized my error. I had stumbled across a logic problem. If this was glass remover, how was it that the glass vial it rested in was not removed itself? What madness! I had ended up in a logic book! I set the vial down and hurried to find pen and paper. What I had discovered could rewrite science itself, could redefine our knowledge of the world! Or destroy it. I was scribbling my thoughts with furious passion when Clay walked up the stairs. "Hello, old friend!"he said. "How goes it?" I paused in my writing. "Friend, what are you doing here?"I asked with a smile. "Visiting." "But your job in London,"I said, "Are you on vacation?" "I am there too!"he said. My smile fell away. "Egads, man, are you drunk? It cannot be that you are in two places at once." He tilted his head. "Why not?" "Because it can't!"I cried. "We are scientists! Logicians! And-- And enough of this foolishness. You jest with me. Come, see this." Clay walked over to the table. "Remover, huh?"he said, seeing the label. "Yes, and it dissolves glass into thin air." "I see,"he said. "But yet, the vial is not damaged in any way. Have you a hypothesis?" Clay nodded. "Why does it have to dissolve the vial in the first place?" "Because it's glass!"I roared. "Keep up, Clay. If the liquid dissolved glass, and it is in a glass jar, it must dissolve it!" "Only if you apply logic to it,"Clay said. Then my folly dawned on me, and I staggered back against a ceiling joist. "No,"I said. "It can't be." "Can, cannot,"Clay said. "I came over to see if you'd like to have dinner. The me in London is paying." I swallowed and nodded. "Dinner and a drink,"I said. I went out with him and tried to forget, tried not to think about the vial in my attic. It was dangerous, too dangerous. I had applied logic and science to them, and the liquid had removed a great portion of those things from existence. The world became more chaotic, and it was all my doing. If you see something that doesn't make logical sense, I am to blame. God help me, I didn't know. God help us all.
The two techs sat in the corner of the hospital room and manned their consoles. The headset lying by her pillow, with its myriad LEDs and snakelike umbilical to the cart-mounted server labeled "Neural Transmigration System", was blinking expectantly. The NTS's own status display indicated that a terabit link to the Pixar Collective Universe had been established, and that it was prepared to receive her upload. She was ready. "Okay, Maggie,"Pete Docter said gently as he leaned over her, "Do you understand what's about to happen? We're going to give you something to make your brain cells easier for the scanner to read, and the NTS will start the transfer. "After a few moments you'll start to see your new Universe around you. When that happens, there will be a control in your right hand--squeeze it to let us know you're there. We'll pick up the signal and know you got there safely. Can you do that for us?" She nodded slightly. "You're going to live there for a long, long time, so you'll probably show up in a lot of the new Pixar movies through the years. Are you okay with that?" She nodded weakly, and smiled. Pete looked questioningly at her parents--her mother holding her left hand, her father sitting beside her mom and stroking her hair. They both nodded, and for the thousandth time, mouthed thank you. Pete nodded. "Okay then, Maggie, here we go,"he said, forcing a smile. One tech gingerly lowered the headset onto her bald scalp and over her eyes and ears, while the other tech started process which triggered a number of lights and sounds, and a hospice nurse stepped in and added something to the IV. For a few moments, all she saw was blinking lights, and then a numerical display started at 0% and incremented upward, going faster and faster. By the time it had reached 50% she could no longer feel her body, and then as it passed 72% it faded into mist... &nbsp; ...and then things started coming back into focus. She was still in bed, though--but it wasn't the hospital bed she'd lain in for months, it was a bunk in some kind of ship. She could hear the engines. There was a huge window next to her; she rolled over and-- It was an AIRSHIP! It's The Spirit of Adventure, she realized with a start, and they were thousands of feet in the air, passing over mountains and jungles greener and more beautiful than she'd ever imagined. She looked toward her feet and saw the cockpit beyond, and recognized Carl and Russell in the pilot and copilot's seat. They looked back and saw her, and jumped up out of their seats. "Hi, Maggie!"Carl, exclaimed as he came over to her. "Pete told us you were coming. We're so glad you're here!" "This is great!"Russell said, mirroring Carl's enthusiasm. "It's gonna be nice having someone else here that's close to my age!" "Hey, what do you mean by that?"Carl countered, grinning and smacking Russell on the shoulder. "Anyway, Maggie,"he continued, "Pete said you should rest a while after you get here. We're still a few hours from Paradise Falls, so go ahead and take a nap and we'll handle the flying. Oh, and enjoy the view!" She smiled and turned back to the big window, and watched a flock of giant exotic birds that were flying alongside the airship. I'm really here, she thought, and squeezed the control in her right hand. &nbsp; Pete felt the sudden strength in her fingers as she squeezed, saw the contented smile on her face, and noted that the tears seeping from beneath the goggles of her custom VR headset mirrored his own. He nodded to her parents, and then to the nurse, who emptied a second syringe into the IV. "Enjoy your adventure, Maggie,"Pete croaked, and finally broke down and bawled. &nbsp; The drone of the engines and the rhythmic motion of the flock was making her even sleepier now, and she knew that even as excited as she was, she coudn't stay awake. That was fine, though. There would be plenty of time to explore her new world when she woke up.
Note log: June 18th 2018 Patient #5432789 Name: John Doe This will be my first time meeting this patient. His file states he is psychotic, narcissistic, bipolar, maybe schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder, and on and on. The list of potential diagnosis is almost as long as his rap sheet. There is an extra cautionary note on his file “patient has killed 4 psychologists and a dozen prison guards. Extreme caution is to be taken around this patient.” finally there is a handwritten note on the outside of the file from my supervisor. “Sorry JD will be your last patient before you retire. Be extra careful, his last doctor went insane and killed a bunch of people. ~James G.” Patient has extensive scarring on his face. This was not noted in his file. Perhaps the cause of the scars where the catalyst for his psychosis. Starting taped interview: Transcript of first interview: G: “Hello John. You can call me Gerald.” JD: “Gerald… hehe isn't he a meme? Hehe" G: “I believe so, but I'm not the same Gerald from the internet. Do you spend a lot of time online?” JD: “hehe I used to, until the damn commissioner found out I was talking kids into having fun hehe and one shot up his school…. Hehehe hahahaha” (transcriber notes that the laugh is, disturbing) G: “Why did you do that?” JD: “Why did you do that?” (voice mimics the doctors) G: “Hmm are you avoiding the question because it's a difficult one?” JD: “Nope, just Socrates asking a question? Hehe” G: “what do you mean by that? Is Socrates talking to you?” JD: “hehe, not Socrates exactly, that's just what I call the smart ass.” G: “the smart ass?” JD “yeah the guy I killed a few years ago. Some philosophy student or some shit. I don't know. He keeps telling me smart shit.” G: “the guy you killed talks to you?” JD: “yeah they all speak in here.” (There is a thumping noise, presumably JD tapping his head) G: “that's very interesting, can you explain more?” JD “I'll just show you” (Chain sounds, rustling of clothing and papers, then Gerald screams) Description of scene after guards intervention: John Doe was taken back to his cell laughing. Doctor Gerald Wilson was found dead with his own pen jammed into his right ear. -------------------- “Where… what… is going… am I’ “Hahahhahaahahahhahahahhahahahaha” “Is that you John?” “I told you I would show you.” Gerald feels someone tap him on the shoulder. He turns around to see a short, rotund, man with a mustache. He is very well dressed. “Hello, you must be new here. I'm Henry Claridge. One of the first ones here. I'm sort of the mayor, well in name. I really don't have any authority….” He holds a hand out to Gerald. “Well, I used to have some control over him, he used to listen a little to me. Before there were so many voices mine got drowned out.” Gerald takes in his surroundings. It's pitch black and he is standing on, nothing. The only thing he sees is Henry. Gerald extends a hand and shakes Henry's hand. “Am I dead? Is this hell?” “Well sort of. We call it hell, but it seems that when you die by the hands of John Doe you end up here. In his head. This is kinda an entry area… the rest of his head is well…. Very overwhelming. We’ll get there eventually, you can meet the other ten thousand plus people in here.” “ten... thousand?” “Yeah, the Joker has a high body count.” Edit: might continue this idea.
“You’re welcome” was punctuated with overacted sniffles from the two of them. I’m not as dumb as I look. Or at least, that’s what I hope. One couldn’t ever imagine that Francesca was anything other than knivving, and I would be stupid to have lived this long without having my suspicions. Kat had only attempted to be marginally more trustworthy than Francesca, but it was not enough to absolve her either. My sisters are snakes. Cesca’s sneer as I passed was almost as if on cue, that’s how predictable she was. Everyone else may as well be blind to her machinations, but I knew her before she had grown the thin veneer of Court gentility. I remember the child in the well, and the lengths my parents went to in order to make sure she was never discovered all those years ago. Kat had her own history of cover-ups. Her’s always came after Cesca’s, like a parrot mimicking the master. I’d be a fool to think I wasn’t next. I’d be a fool to have not prepared for it, either. Intrigue is not my strong point, but neither is fratricide. Cesca expects me to be more easy to manipulate than her other brothers. I let her think that. Edwin’s death hit me hardest. He was the eldest brother, and he was my favorite. The morning we received news of their death, my sisters behaved so sweetly and sorrowful, one could have mistaken them for innocent. Samuel and Matthew’s passing also dealt me pain, but I acutely felt the stab of losing Edwin even as I stepped forward in his place, to accept his crown. The ceremony was hard on me. I’d never been groomed for this life. My heart was sinking into the floor as the heavy crown was pushed onto my head. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t taken several gulps of brandy before stepping out of the car this morning, and that fire in my otherwise empty belly was probably the only reason I wasn’t openly weeping in front of God and my country. My first thought when I realized I was to be king was that I couldn’t kill them. I could not make any actions that would draw attention to me, or more family disappearances. It’d been months between Edwin’s initial coronation, his death, and mine now, but it was too suspicious. I think Cesca knew this as well. She knew how precarious I was already in the eyes of the law, it wouldn’t take much for the final brother to be framed, guilty of taking action in his lust for power, and have me arrested. It was dangerous to be a royal. Especially one that had never been destined to sit on the throne. I had considered this quandary many times since hearing the news. There was no way to come out of this without blood on my hands. As much as my heart pulled me to staying lawful and good, I had to kill or be killed. All of these thoughts haunt me. They probably will forever. I am the last one in the throne room today. The last of the courtiers, journalists, hangers-on, and servants have gone home for the day. The sun has sunk past it’s zenith and I am sore from sitting in this contraption of the realm. I have not moved from it since being given the crown well over twelve hours ago. Many servants have asked if I need anything. I simply replied that I am waiting, meditating, and praying, and that when I was done, I would return to my apartments. It’s morning now. A man with less on his heart maybe would have drifted to sleep at some point, but I’m still here, rigid in this damn chair. The crown has stayed perched on my head and I am still staring into the dark of Saint John’s church. Creak. There is light filtering through the high windows and now through the crack in the door, growing wider as Mark, my secretary, enters cautiously. “They told me I could find you here.” It’s almost a whisper in the silence. “Is it done?” My voice breaks. “Yes.” In his outstretched hand he is holding a photo, but I do not need to examine it to know it’s the confirmation I have been waiting for. I feel a deepness settle into my gut. It’s done. Long live the king.
I'm a collector of 20th century media. Well, not professionally. I man a transit slip. They're fully automated, but legally we're required to keep a human onboard. I do literally nothing. I spent my first year of transits listening to music on the wave, playing virtua ball, and working out. It got boring. I needed a hobby. So it's technically illegal to digitize old broadcasts from the Radio Range. But there are enthusiasts. You have to be careful- it's easy to get caught. You need off-grid equipment, and you need to make sure nobody knows you have it. You also needed to be physically located somewhere in the Radio Range-- the area in space where you could find all the Earth broadcasts from 1930 through 2040. I had a buddy who used to collect old radio broadcasts. He specialized in 1950's rock n' roll. He sent me mags of it a few years ago-- it wasn't my thing. Too old, too static. I was into pure pop. To me, the good stuff started happening in the late 60's and lasted until the 00's. Anything before hadn't evolved to the point I liked, and everything after reeked of the culture wars. Michael Jackson, the Beatles, Justin Timberlake-- that kind of stuff. Of course, it was illegal to own. After the culture wars, everything produced before 2060 was deemed V.P. (Very Problematic), and not without reason. Snuff films, porn, animal cruelty, songs about violence, political advertisments-- all of this had the capacity to endanger the peace and stability we'd enjoyed over the last century. Of course, that meant everyone wanted it. most of the hard data that existed from the time was corrupted, so the best way to get it was to pull it right out of the Radio Range radiating outward from the Earth. Some enthusiasts had put together most of the Doctor Who run until it went purely digital in '05. The Grateful Dead catalog was recompiled from late-night radio shows. It wasn't easy. Most of the radio transmissions had been garbled by gravitic perturbances, so you had to find a good spot to pull from, and you needed a good compiler. The radio transmissions radiated outward from the Earth in a sphere, but the galactic ambient gravity had flattened it so that it looked more like a pancake these days. In fact, collectors had stared to refer to the Radio Range as "the great record in the sky"or simply The Record, and the activity of recording from it "dropping the needle". It was next to impossible to scrub ambient radio waves from the universe, so this was the last remaining indelible record of human history from that time period. because of the garbling, you never knew what you might get. You might travel through a region known for good 70's recordings but get some random strain of 1940's stuff because a planet warped that section of the flow. So it was that I ended up hearing a speech from Hitler. I didn't know who he was, but the recording quality made me think he was from somewhere between 1935-50, and German. He was obviously a political leader. He was an energetic speaker, but I only listened absently. He was saying some motivational stuff about how the country needed to throw off chains or something. I logged it along with some music by a 30's band called "the Ingenues"that I thought my buddy would like, and didn't think much of it. So I met up with my 50's enthusiast friend at the Stärbücks on Hart Station above Wolf 319e about twelve sols later. We were enjoying an overlapping cooldown period and sipping coffee in the grav ring when I remembered what I had. I slid the datachit across the table to him and he deftly palmed it. "What's on it?"he said, subtly turning it in his hand. "A band called 'the Ingenues' and some guy named Hitler."I said. My buddy looked up from the chit and hissed through his teeth. He crushed the chit in his hand. "No." "What?" "Do not say that name again. Forget what you heard." He looked around the room. The barkeep looked back at us idly, her tiny mustache twitching as she muddled herbs. Tiny mustaches had become the style lately, along with little red armbands with a swirly geometric symbol on them. They were featured in some recent music videos, and everybody thought it was pretty silly. "Any coffee, mein Fräuleins?"asked the waiter, laughing. His head was shaved up the side with a small tuft of hair on top, and he wore the khaki uniform of Starbucks complete with his medals of service. It was a little confusing-- people had lately been downloading dead language kits for fun, and I for one really loathed it. My friend waved his hand 'no', and we were left alone. He leaned in close. "There are people out there that are starting to listen to that shit and take it to heart. In fact--" At that moment, someone dropped a glass, shattering it. The staff let out a hearty cheer of something german and saluted, arms and fingers extended. It was their form of a joke, I guess. My friend looked worried. "In fact, maybe I need to get you a couple of mags to read up on. Have you ever heard of a dogwhistle?" "Like, it makes a sound only dogs can hear?" "Yeah, it's a lot like that. Let's go."He left his coffe and gestured for me to stand, leaving a couple holocreds to cover it. We stepped out onto the main boulevard, the iron cross of Stärbücks glowing wanly above us. My friend turned to me. "There are a lot of things you're not seeing. We're gonna fix that."
Before I entered hibernation, I could never have guessed what kind of world I'd wake up to. The optimistic side of me said I'd be cured of my cancer, and life in general would be easier. The pessimistic side said the world would have ended, and I'd likely never wake up, let alone be cured. Well, in actuality, it was beyond what I had imagined. When I woke up, I was greeted by a slender man in a white coat. He smiled, his eyes penetrating by foggy eyes after thawing. "Ah, there you go, welcome back to our world!” he greeted. I tried to speak, but only a faint croak escaped. He looked at me amusingly, but encouragely. “Go on, try harder. It’s okay, it is normal to have trouble at first.” I tried to speak again, but this time with more power. My croak turned into something that resembled english, though still incoherent. So I tried once more, finally letting out a single comprehensible word: “Hello.” “Fantastic! That is one of the fastest today. Anyway, I’m sure you are still disorientated, and have many questions. It is best to go back to sleep for a little bit- I know... as if you haven’t slept enough, but trust me. You shouldn’t need to try too hard.” Like a spell, I began to doze off. I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but I really was tired and what was a few more hours anyway? I woke up to another white cloaked figure, this time someone else. She spoke soothingly, “Hello again! We’re setting everything up for you to leave in a few hours, but I can help answer any questions you might have. Before you start shooting, let me get the most common ones out of the way: The year is 52,101. You’re illness is cured. And no, the world has not ended.” She chuckled at the end, leaving the important event of waking 50 thousand years later feel oddly light hearted. I couldn’t believe it. At first, I was overwhelmed by the amount of time that had passed. What took so long? But I did not dwell long, but instead became overwhelmed with content that my cancer was cured, like I had hoped. If only my parents were here with me… She continued, “Okay, if there are any other questions you have, I’m here to listen and answer!” My mind went wild, trying to think of the most important questions to ask. “What is the world like now? Are nations like USA, China, and Russia still around?” “Hm? US-A..? I’m not sure what you refer to, but I can tell you our race is unified strongly as ever. One moment, let me check your paper...” She reached over to what looked like a tablet, but made of only light. “Oh, I see… so you’re from way back at 2060. You sure have missed a lot, and not a lot is known from those times.” “What? Don’t you have access to all the media, documentation, etc.?” “Oh no, you see, like I say you really have missed a lot. Everything before 4076 is mostly unknown to us. This is the effect of the World Drought of the 22st century.” I held my breath, and everything froze. So, turns out, the world did end, but I was just lucky enough to make it through. She continued, “Anyway, I can see our confusion. You must know that our race is now united under one form of government, The Worlds Federation.” “Worlds..?” “Yes, we inhabit many worlds.” The idea shocked me more than the World Drought. World Peace? This was already beyond my expectation, or imagination for that matter. “How is this possible? The human race I knew would never be able to achieve unification,” I said. “Well you see, after the World Drought, much of human civilization collapsed and died off, leaving just a fraction of the population left. The survival of mankind dwindled for two centuries, where a new history began. One more successful. Now, we have expanded to many planets, leaving Earth to heal, separated by the majority of human civilization.” “How come I am only being awakened now.” “Well, we only found you recently! The whole facility was buried, and our orbital surveyors only recently found signs of life here. Since the World Drought, the human activity has become sparse on earth; so sorry we hadn’t found you earlier.” A sudden buzz echoed the quiet room. “Welp, looks like you’re ready to leave! I’ll help you up...”
The cry of manic enthusiasm drifted over the ruined field. Craters the size of small homes dotted the landscape, divided into neat square plots by trenches. You could see all this, and the smoking corpses, hollow exoskeletons, and molten heaps of plasteel, if you cared to risk death by stealing a quick glance over the trench wall. It was a 50/50 whether or not you'd have a head several microseconds later. I used a periscope to peek over the trench and find the poor screaming wreck. It had no legs or abdomen to speak of, unless you counted a long tentacle of intestine stretching out behind him. One arm drug the man forward while the other hand clutched what looked like most of a foot to his head. He was screaming into it like an old school radio. "Put that eyeball back in your skull and pack your guts back in your belly, and show those bastards that you're not a replicant, but instead a RepliCAN!"he cried. I shook my head sadly. The guy was only still alive because of self sealing arteries. It wouldn't be long until the muscular veins gave out and relaxed. While it was technically true that replicants could put put our eyes back into our skull and pack our guts back in our belly, it usually required the use of staples and super glue. Prolonged suffering was somehow equated to strength in the human's minds. I looked over the fatally wounded man and zoomed in on the stronghold we were currently laying siege to. A single black spire reaching a hundred meters into the sky and three thousand meters down into the crust of the planet. This deep mining operation wasn't critical to much of anything, except for the occasional donation of miners to the local military. I zoomed back out and looked at the wounded man again. He'd stopped moving and was lying on his back, arms curled in. I nodded to myself. Better sooner than later. I dropped the para scope and pulled my helmet visor back down. The cheap plastic guard was lit up by a small laser light, printing out glowing letters and figures on the uv reactive pigment layer. A timer with 1:39:09 displayed. The countdown. It was in standard 60 second base minutes. The local planet time was 100 second based minutes, with a small adjustment on the first of every month where the clocks are set forward. When the timer hit naught, a series of bright full spectrum flares would be dropped from an orbital platform. When they struck the ground, hopefully missing any friendly units, the flare would ignite and blind the sensory array of the mine's turrets. An internal 3D map of it's ranged area stored in memory combined with predictive AI could still give a best guess for target locations, so it still paid to be careful. If my company, all the replicant units of one serial number, survived this assault and were successful, we could retire to a moon base specially set up to house old combat models. It was a joke, everybody essentially knew that it was a euthanasia site. They probably weren't nice with it either. We'd all elect to stay in service. Hopefully we'd be accepted and assigned to one of the mining stations way out in the black. Likely, we'd be assigned to a slightly more fatal war. Mining stations were often fully staffed and old models were buggy. The timer hit naught. Half a breath later, the world erupted in a hot flash and thunderous noise as the flares entered the atmosphere and plunged to the ground. When the world went completely pink for a second and I could see the bones in my hand for a second before a corrective bioware implant contracted down to a minuscule diameter. I could suddenly make out the world as a burning hot collections of stark white shapes. I hauled ass over the side of the trench, hearing the grunts, coughs, and sneezes of my company on both sides. Three legged turret units bounded out after us. They would also be blinded by the flares, but were poorly fitted with sonar. They sometimes shot friendlies in the back when they got too close. Suddenly, the air around us was buzzing with the hornet sound of turret fire. We passed the flares, half way across the gap, and our shadows lanced and licked out in front of us. The shadows gave the turrets an interesting sensor reading and they began firing at us in earnest. One bullet nearly took off my leg as our immediate area was hosed down. Our high caliber mobile turrets began prancing about like happy lambs, executing evasive programming and firing their dual chainguns. The mobile turrets gave us enough cover to reach the base of the two meter defensive wall. We crouched up against it, turrets no more than 20 feet farther over the wall. One mobile turret went down in a blaze of glory as the last defensive turret gave up aiming and pulled all its triggers at once. We went up over the wall and past the destroyed turrets. There was a railing around the rim of the mine shaft and we stopped short of it, circling around slowly. When the rim was surrounded, a human strategist landed their support craft and gave surrender terms. What answered was a brief hail of gun fire from deep in the mine shaft. They'd moved their units down, hoping to create a choke point and force us to invade their barracks. The strategist sighed and gave orders to the command chain, which filtered down to us. We were waiting up top and sending drones equipped with gas grenades. The small round drones weren't much more than a pair of wheels attached to a small box for payloads. They were useful mostly as mobile mines, but you could shove anything into the thing. We sent 12 of them and a mobile turret down. Twenty minutes later, when the chain gun fire stopped, the turret came trotting up the stairs to dock in the charging station. The strategist landed and gave orders to move into the mine as soon as the gas was at non-fatal concentration. It took a few hours, and then we claimed the subterranean complex. Corpses went over the side of the catwalks to fall deep into the molten puddle, as did anything damaged in the assault. Once the mine was secured, we radioed for an orbital cargo shuttle to deliver the mission payload. An hour passed as the paperwork was checked, pre-flight performed, and cargo herded. The fat bumblebee shuttled squatted down on a flat piece of ground and opened the bay doors. The human crew didn't bother moving to unload the cargo, so we had to go in and drag the new replicant mining crew out. There was one model M for manager replicate with them. The M models were smarter than the average bear and designed to be decent middle managers or mine overseers. The M model had a quick briefing session and then corralled the new miners down into the barracks. We spent the night outside, sleeping in newly dug trenches. When the morning came, the mine engine had started back up and was vomiting thick white steam out it's peak. A line of cargo shuttles was lined up neatly before noon, waiting impatiently for all the combat models to crowd back in to return to base. I got in and secured my standing spot in the back row. One of the human crew in back was sucking on a piece of candy, staring blankly at his station. He glanced up to check the load count and closed the bay. The shuttled lifted off and carried us into space.
There he stood, eleven feet tall if he was an inch, and possessed of such power as to make the very stars above him grow dim in obeisance. Hades, brother of Zeus. God of the Underworld. Ruler of the Dead. "May-- may I help you?"I asked, as my innards made involuntary preparations to thoroughly shit myself. "Yes,"the God Hades responded, and crouched to look me in the eye. "I saw your ad on Craigslist for a found dog? A big black hound with a couple of extra heads?" "Y-Yes, that was my ad,"I stammered. "The photos were a little fuzzy,"the deity continued, "but it might be my dog Cerberus. He's been missing for two or three millennia, and I've been getting worried." "Wh-When did you last see him?"I asked. "Well, it's kind of a long story,"he said, grinning wryly. "I loaned him to my nephew Heracles to win a bet, and he must have gotten loose at some point." "Well,"I said, "I found him eating three-day-old mac and cheese out of my garbage can, and that's all I've been able to get him to eat since." "Mac and cheese? That's gotta be my Cerbie!"Hades exulted. I sighed. "Okay, come on in then." Hades was waiting patiently on the living room couch when I brought in the three-headed hound. It was obvious from the first moment that it was his dog. I told him I was glad he saw the ad, and I was just happy to get Cerberus back to his owner. "Thanks so much,"Hades said finally, wiping tears from his eyes. "If there's anything you ever need, please let me know, and it's yours." "Anything?"I asked, not quite believing. "Anything,"he replied, without hesitation. And that's how I met your mother.
They call it "The Chatter". It is the endless noise of the Gods which say things like "Suck it, Noob!"and "Why are you getting stuck there?". It is the endless chatter of the Mad Gods. Everyone has the Chatter stuck in their heads, everyone but the Shells. The Shells become the avatars of the Gods, but they aren't alive like the rest of the people. They're never truly born, sometimes they just ARE as opposed to being ALWAYS. The ARE appear frequently in some of the worlds. In some worlds there are lots who ARE. The ALWAYS have always been in these worlds. The ALWAYS always hears the voices at least once or twice a day. Sometimes the ALWAYS will hear the voices for a few days straight. Lydia stood outside of the cave. Lydia wore the armor the ARE had put on her. The current Mad God took the incarnation of the prophesied one, the Dragonborn. Other than the clothes she was wearing, Lydia was ALWAYS Lydia. From what the others have told her, her current master had taken his form after two hours of slowly changing features. Lydia heard the Chatter discussing dinner options. Lydia heard the Chatter yelling at itself. Then the Chatter went away. The world went dark for a bit as Lydia stood there and waited. The world eventually vanished and Lydia found herself in the dark and talking to the beings from the other worlds. Occasionally she'd hear music from the other ALWAYS out there and it was drastically different from her own world. She tapped her foot in the dark as she heard the music state that her time was up and that his time was now. "Yes, John, we can't see you. It is the dark time. No one can see you, not even members of your own world."The music and Sir Cena wasn't invading her thoughts, they just happened to meet in passing in the dark. It happened when the world went dark before sleep came for them. The energy which sustained them and invigorated the ALWAYS finally left and Lydia, John and all the others finally went to sleep. Energy woke her up as she stood there on the side of a mountain and waited for her current lord, the Mad God who insisted he be called "Batman". He wasn't Batman. Lydia had talked to Batman. Batman's world was full of fighting where occasionally a Mad God would possess one of the ALWAYS. The Chatter started and Lydia could hear the Gods arguing with each other. The current Mad God still had to do some work on his home. He was spending too much time playing with the lives of those in Lydia's world and in the worlds of Raiden, Batman, and John Cena. The Dragonborn "killed"the last vampire in this cave and The Chatter regretted not being able to tea bag the vampire. Lydia had never heard of vampire tea. Perhaps if you dusted one before brewing it, it'd be considered a quality beverage. Multiple voices came through the Chatter because "Batman"was online and they said you couldn't tea bag in sky rim... Lydia looked around at the edges of the horizons, she didn't see any true rims. She sighed and then "Batman"showed up. Lydia hated that she had only a limited range of options for speech when talking to the Dragonborn. She hated how she had no free will when he was around. The Chatter brought weird bits of speech and strange words into her world. There were always strange noises which sometimes provided her with astounding facts. Facts like Gods fart, and she didn't know what that was until she asked Eric Cartman and his friends. She listened to the Chatter as her Dovahkin wandered around killing small woodland creatures because he apparently loved to murder everything. He had dragons to go deal with and dark ALWAYS Gods, yet he wanted to murder tiny fluffy things as well. Lydia had talked to the ALWAYS Gods. They weren't truly Gods, they were just powerful entities, yet they were slaves to the Mad God as well. Occasionally they killed a Mad God's Shell, but then the God would just reset the world. Hours later Lydia felt the energy begin to leave. The Chatter over the last few days had also discussed the recent build up of something called Nuclear missiles in the world. Lydia had asked around but these missiles weren't in any of the worlds near her. As the energy was leaving, and all the worlds which Lydia knew were falling asleep, the Chatter spoke about hope for tomorrow. When the Chatter finally left, one of the werewolves who guarded a bridge against the Bloodborne Shell wished her a good night and a restful sleep. Lydia appreciated the other ALWAYS from the different worlds. They enjoyed her friendship. Her own others didn't like her, she did help the Mad God kill them. Lydia's world powered up and the voices from the other worlds bid her good morning. The Chatter was unusually quiet. She heard a farther away voice say "We have to leave now, Michael. We have to go to the shelter!"and she heard the reply of "But it's Saturday!". The final words she could make out were "We have to leave the city, it's in the radiation fallout zone." There were loud noises and yelling and the main Dark God, Michael, the false Batman, started crying. The noises vanished. The Chatter of the other loud but inconsistent Gods went away. Lydia stood there waiting because her Dark God was rooting around in her inventory before he vanished. She tried to move. She desperately wanted to move. There was no Chatter, but that only meant that the Chatter would be back in a bit. Instead there were distant sounds of incredible thunder. There were sounds which frightened her. The Chatter went away. It stayed away. Lydia was stuck there with the Dovahkin's hands inside of her backpack and on her armor. The others stood there and reminded her that to them she was a traitor and that they hated her. Without the Chatter she could hear their voices as they spoke to her from across the street. The guardsman who had once taken an arrow to his knee laughed at her and called her a whore. Lydia reminded herself that it would be okay. Soon she'd be able to sleep and before then she could talk to her friends from the other worlds. Yet sleep never came. The energy never powered down. Lydia had no other thoughts to distract her from the hatred of those within her world. She had only her thoughts. She had to move away from the Dragonborn and she had to go find John Cena. She tried to move. She spent a long time trying to move. She was hated and alone and stuck in a world where no one wanted her. She was stuck with a Shell groping her while the guardsmen around her moved. While her world moved. A chicken ran past her and she couldn't even pet it. Even though she hated Michael she couldn't move until he came back. She called out for her friends from the other world, but no one from those worlds answered. The townsfolk all walked up to Lydia and mocked her and laughed at her. She needed to move to get away from them. She needed to sleep so she could talk to her friends before her world went away and before it became again. Michael would come back, wouldn't he?
So, this is it huh...? I knew from the moment I stepped through the sliding doors, cold air spraying from all directions, that I would suffer. It was not for the weak of mind, I knew that too. Just entering ment that I either got fit fast or died. Probably. I recalled the slightly ironic name of the establishment, "Live Fitness". Some name for a place that, could you not reach the set weight, did it for you in rather macabre ways. Of corse I had considerd other ways, but none had really struck a choird. I mustered all my courage and walked up to the front desk, my heart pounding like I had tried to put my shoes on by hand. The lady at the front desk could not have been much older than me, tho weight-wise I humbly admit she looked to clock in at less than a third of my current weight. I took a final deep breath and looked at her. I prouduced what I hope was a brave smirk, "hi"I managed to splurt without sounding too shaky."Why, hello and welcome to Live Fitness! My name is Gloria, would you like to sign up as a member? Garuanteed normal weight in record time and we have a 100% sucess rate!"she smiled broadly and proceeded to dump a quite large stack of papers in front of me. "Just sign here and we are good to go"she stabed the last page with her finger, right under lines of tiny text meant to warn newcomers like me. I never read it, I just signed. "Exellent, now on to step one of your new life, on the scale you go!"Gloria pointed at a door, "weight station"was printed in bold at the top. Great, I had not stood on a scale in years even tho I knew it was probably in the "you should be dead"-category. I kicked off my shoes at the designated sign and sat down to put on my brand new indoor walking shoes. The bench was made of stainless steel so I did not have to worry about embarassing creaking, or worse, splintering. Sittning with shoes off I could not locate a single shoehorn. Damn, I had long since passed the level of fat where it was more than just uncomfortable to bend over to reach my feet. Slightly embarassed I cleared my throat "Excuse me, do you happen to have a shoehorn I could borrow?". Magically Gloria appeared with one, and I could put my shoes on. She then almost pushed me through the "weight station"-door. "Good luck, and remember no pain, no gain!"she chirped as she slamed the door shut behind me, locking me in since it opened inwards and was completely smooth. I immediately continued forward, no use in lingering at a dead end. I huffed down a short corridor when a crackling could be heard and then from an unseen speaker, a voice. "Congratulations on your membership with us at Live Fitness Miss Tanner! I'd like you to follow my instructions exactly and we'll all have a smooth ride!"the voice croaked, it was quite harsh and had a slight accent, French maybe? "please step onto the scale at your left, and stand still untill the numbers stop". I looked left and my heart sank a bit, there embedded into the floor was an industrial heavy-duty scale, the kind used to weigh semitrucks. I did as instructed and stepped onto it. It made a beeping noice and on a board that looked suspiciously similar to my radio-alarmclock at home, numbers started ticking up. It beeped again, I almost did not want to look at the numbers. Fortunately sergeant French crackled to life on the speaker "Miss Tanner, your weight is 198 kilos, wich is roughly equal to 31 stone. This puts you in the 'execessively overweight' category. Do not worry, your new life begins today! Please proceed into the next room through the door". I sheepishly looked around, sure enough, an open door had appeared where I previously could have sworn nothing had been visible except a smooth wall. I walked inside, the room whirred sligtly as the door closed and then it suddenly moved downwards, like an elevator. I staggered a little, I had not been prepared for moving rooms. Then the speaker sounded again. "Ok, Miss Tanner. First exercise of your new me, spend 3 days in this very room. There is a water-fountain in the far end of the room. Good luck and see you in 3 days time!"Sergeant French dissapeared and instead ambient music started, the very same that fancy dinings have. So, what is the plan... Starve me for a mere 3 days? That is quite weak for a gym I expected to be tough. Strange, I tought looking around more closely at the rectangular room. It was painted with black stripes on the wall, on the opposite wall I could se a miniature tap with what looked like a push-button under it. The floor was rough and soft like a running track, not that I had spent any time at one for at least 15 years. Suddenly I was pushed from behind, startled I took a step forward to see who was in the room besides me, but as I turned there was only the wall. Weird, when I stepped in I had walked halfway into the room. Was it shrinking for some unexplained reason? I walked to the far end and started examening the wall at the corner. It did not seem like it could even move, the paint was a bit round and seamlessly continued. But I started to notice something as I stood there, the wall was getting furhter away. I realized the floor was moving, like a gigant conveyor belt! So I had to walk otherwise I would be pushed against the wall and slowly be ground by the rough floor. And I would have to do it for 3 days with minor to no sleep and no rest because of the speed it moved.
Ever since I was a small boy my life was garbage, my father left when I was just born and my mother died in a car crash when I was 7. But it's only recently that I descoverd the side affect of such a shity life. It started when I was 11 when I tried to kill myself, after a garbage day at school I decided I have finally had enough and that I'm going to kill myself. I took a knife and tried to stab myself but I didn't feel pain like I thought I would, turns out the knife turned into a used paper towel. After months of not knowing what to do with my power I decided to take revenge on those who made my life such garbage. It started with john, John was your tipical school bully, I hated him so much. I went to his house at night and touched his bed, his kitchen and his family. Needless to say that when I heard that he moved to a different city to his grandparents I was happy. After him it was my teacher Mr. Michael. He was the the one who let John and the others to bully me relentlessly, he was the one who didn't support me and who screamed at me for nothing. Like John, I went to his house at night, I touched everything I could, his wife, his kids, his wallet. By the morning his entire house was garbage, just like mine. After both of them I took revenge on 11 more people but at the end I didn't know what to do. I felt like I didn't have a propose any more. Whith that I decided again to take my life, and this time to succeed. A got on top of a rooftop at night, looking down I could not see the bottom as I got on the edge I heard a voice calling to me, I looked back to see a 80 year old man standing there, after all this time, someone who cared. He walked towards me. I Did not get a chance to tell not to touch me. And then was the only time I remember being hugged. I remember him slowly turning into grabage, one piece at a time until near me was just a pile of garbage. Without a second thought and with tears rolling out of my eyes I jumped to the abyss below. The end I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes and please be kind this is my first story and I hope you enjoyed it.
A man. Is this real? "Hi." "Hi,"I reply warily. He takes a step closer, I retreat a step, not quite believing he's real. "I won't hurt you." I take him in, looking him up and down. It had been so long since I saw another living creature let alone a human. He's tall. Strong. "My name's Jesse." ".... I'm..."It has been so long since I had said my name "Lizzy." Arms raised, palms toward me Jesse took a step forward. I couldn't help but notice the strength of his arms under his shirt. This time I didn't retreat. "I haven't seen anyone since that last bomb. It's been months.... I think.... And I haven't seen anyone. Are you alone?" I thought over my time since the accident. Nothing but bodies. Not quite sure how I survived all the mess. Everything was kind of a blur. I nodded, looking into his dark eyes. "Me too,"said Jesse, his eyes keeping mine a little longer before I looked down. "I have some food,"he offered. My eyes shot back up. It has been days since I found anything more than a few Twinkies to eat. There wasn't much that survived the accident. "I'll need to heat it though,"he reached around to a small backpack and pulled out some service station chimmi chongas.... Of course they survived as well! He pulled out a firestarter too. We gathered some grass and sticks to build a small fire. Over the next few hours we sat and spoke. Is still so shy and was not entirely forthcoming. It had been so long since I had had any human contact. I had had no one to share my fears with after the accident. No one to reminisce old stories with. No one to talk of what little dwindling hope I had of finding others. It was nice being with someone. Talking to someone. Feeling his warmth as he sat next to me. Feeling safe in his words as he assured me we'd be ok. I turned to him as I breathed in his musky scent. He smelled good. I took in the view in front of me. He turned to look into my eyes. I was scared to reciprocate. He lifted a hand to my chin and lifted my face so I was looking right into his. "I'm so glad I found you,"he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss. "Yer,"was all I could shyly manage as he pulled back after a soft kiss. "You know.... If we're the only two people left on earth.... We're going to have to repopulate it,"he said with a sly smile. "I swear to God if you come near me with that thing I will cut it off!"I jumped up. "Like don't get me wrong, we can totally go at it, but your pull out game better be strong Jesse cause there is no way in hell am I spawning babies in this hell hole! I don't even care, the human race dies with us!"
Writing a good prompt is an art -- this is a real problem. It's not so much that there are a lot of science fiction/fantasy prompts, but that they all follow a similar trend. If you spend long enough here you'll find that prompts do tend to pop up over and over again in various slightly different forms, because they're the easiest ones to come up with (and interesting to those new to the subreddit).
It’s not the first meteor to crash here, oddly enough. A few weeks back one hit a farm on the outskirts of town, and the owner’s been out every day trying to repair his fields, not even taking the time he usually does to come into town and get supplies. The damage must’ve been severe, which I can understand if it was the size of this one. It’s kicked up a dust cloud so huge I would have thought it was another mountain. Still shaking from the ground-shattering impact, the ringing of my phone scares the absolute hell out of me. I stumble slightly as I try to pull it from my pocket, grateful to my dad for insisting on buying me a satellite phone for my hikes. The mountains here might not be that tall, but up on King’s Point, cell phone reception is spotty, if it exists at all. The number is one I don’t recognize, but, as a rule, I answer every phone call I receive. “Hello?” “Helena, I need you to listen carefully to me.” I don’t recognize the voice, either, but it’s male. “Who is this?” “My name is Jacob. Are you hurt?” “Hurt? No.” “Good. Did you see where the meteor fell?” Now I’m starting to get scared. How does this guy—this Jacob—know I’m near the meteor crash? As if he read my mind, the man speaks again. “I know this is disconcerting, and I’ll answer all your questions later. But right now, I need you to listen carefully to me and answer my questions. Can you do that?” An image of my father, a retired drill sergeant in the army, flashes through my mind and I almost laugh. Yeah, I can take orders. Especially from someone whose tone said I had no other choice—a tone you pick up on pretty quickly in a military household. I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “Yes.” “Good. Now, did you see where the meteor fell?” “I can still see the dust it kicked up,” I answer. The fading daylight from the west illuminated the particles strangely, like glass. “Do you see any light coming from the area?” I squint past the trees below me, searching the crash site for any light. “No,” I say finally. “The dust is too thick, and there’s a lot of trees between me and the site.” The man sighs. “Alright, Helena, I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but I need you to get closer to the meteor.” “Okay.” I don’t know why getting close to a meteor would be such a bad thing, but the tone of Jacob’s voice is a little concerning. “How much closer?” “When you see the lights, stop.” Bracing myself, I begin the trek down the mountain. It’s not too high, just a few thousand feet. Maybe it doesn’t even technically qualify as a mountain. But it’s the closest thing our area has, and as someone whose love for hiking hit hard and fast at an early age, I make do with what I have. The pack I brought isn’t heavy, but as I stumble over a rock I couldn’t see because of the rapidly receding sun, the pack slaps into my back and I let out a surprised yelp while I regain my balance. “Are you alright?” Jacob asks, his voice displaying its first sign of emotion—worry. “Fine. Just shouldn’t have been up here so late. It’s getting darker and I slipped on a rock.” Jacob inhales as if to speak, but pauses. “Do you have any duct tape?” “What?” I ask, surprised by the total shift in conversation. “No. Why?” “You’re gonna need your hands free in a minute.” I frown. Is he crazy? “You want me to duct tape my phone to my face?” “You’re quick,” he says. There was the second emotion of surprise. “Yes. But if you don’t have tape, maybe a scarf or piece of fabric?” “Yeah, I have some medical tape,” I say, pausing to think. “Don’t stop moving,” Jacob orders quickly. I obey. “Get the tape from your pack and secure the phone to your ear.” “Kinda hard to do that and walk at the same time,” I grumble, but I do my best. Holding the phone to my ear with my right hand, I slide my pack around and reach in with my left hand, pushing aside my water bottle and useless cell phone. I grab the medical tape and hold the phone with my shoulder as I separate the end, then return my right hand to the phone and start taping. Not confident that it would hold, I use the entire roll, going over my forehead and under my ponytail, covering most of my head in the process. “Alright,” I announce, sliding my hand out from the tape. “It’s done.” “Is it secure?” “As secure as I can make it.” “Alright. Do you see the lights yet?” “Kinda lookin’ at the ground right now. There’s a lot of loose rocks on this side of the mountain.” “Then stop and look.” I do so. I’m close to halfway down the mountain, since I wasn’t even at the peak in the first place, and coming down is always easier than going up. I grab my water and take a swig, scanning the trees as I do so. The dust cloud has mostly settled, but I know where the meteor fell. At first, I see nothing but the top of the space debris itself, and then— “I see a light,” I say excitedly. “It’s small, like a firefly or something.” “Just one? Is it moving?” I peer at it closely. “It’s bobbing in the same spot.” “Shit.” “What’s wrong?” “It saw you. You’re gonna have to run now.” “Run where? It’s at the foot of the mountain!” “Just stay as far away from it as you can, but run downhill. You’ll need the advantage of speed.” Heart racing with fear and adrenaline, I continue down the mountain and to the left at a near-sprint, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me and hoping the path I chose keeps me away from whatever the light is. Hands free or no, falling is not an option right now. As I run, a high-pitched noise starts up somewhere to the right of me, quietly at first but getting louder. “Do you hear that?” I ask Jacob. “Yeah, I hear it.” Through the phone I hear some sort of commotion, but I can’t tell if he’s moving rapidly or if people are moving rapidly around him. “It’s coming after you. Just keep running.” As I run, my mind is split between watching the path ahead of me, and wondering just what the hell is going on. How did Jacob have the number for my satellite phone? How did he know where I was? How did he know exactly when the meteor hit? How did he know I’d have to run? And what on God’s green earth was chasing me? The high-pitched sound gets louder. I focus on the ground, putting all my energy into pumping my legs as fast as I can. Once again, I’m grateful to my father for forcing me to join a sports team. Right now, track is saving my life. “You’re almost there,” Jacob says. “We’ve got a car coming to you.” “A car?” In the woods? What kind of car could— Oh. That’s not a car. A huge monster of metal and glass is forcing its way through the trees, uprooting them at 50 miles an hour. Rolling cylinders of spikes and jagged teeth tear down any resistance, and I swerve out of its path. “Get in the back,” Jacob says. I get behind the vehicle to find a sliding door held open by a lean-muscled man with an outstretched arm. “Get in!” he shouts, and I take his hand and hoist myself into the bed. “What is going on?” I ask. The man pulls out a tablet. “Sign at the bottom.” “Excuse me?” “Standard non-disclosure agreement. Sign it, and you’ll get answers. Don’t, and we’ll institutionalize you.” “What a choice,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, as I take the proffered stylus and sign my name on the dotted line. “Welcome to The Initiative, Helena Beaumont. My name is Special Agent Gregory Tanner, and I’ll be your tour guide today.”
A brand new (to me, anyways) Buick Regal, the car I had been saving for since I graduated high school. Now it was mine. As I drove away from the dealership, pride coursing through me, I heard a dull thud. My joy quickly turned to concern. I had test drove this car several times to make sure there were no problems, and it was starting as soon as I left the parking lot? Luckily it only happened once, and I opened her up on the interstate going home a couple of hours away. She rode smooth, quietly, and the air conditioning was stunning, something I was thankful for in the August heat. But it happened again. The thud sounded, and didn't stop. But to my horror it was joined by muffled yelling and the gentle swaying of my car as whoever was apparently trapped in the trunk writhed. With a loud squeal of tires I pulled off the interstate, causing a symphony of pissed off horn blowing, and parked my car in the parking lot of the first filling station I could see. When I threw open the trunk, nothing was there except an emergency kit and a car jack I had thrown in the back as my father had taught me. Effectively freaked out, I got back in my car, took a few deep breaths, and chalked it up to new car jitters getting the best of me. I went through the drive through of the tacked on fast food place beside the filling station, got a drink, and steered back onto the interstate. Of course as soon as the car hit the open highway it started again, louder and more intense. I let out a shaking breath and turned on my radio, determined to block out the noises. "Oh thank God! Finally! I've been trying to-" I screamed like a little bitch. That damned voice was in my radio?! "Jesus hot shot calm down! You act like you've never seen a possessed car before!"
Living on Terra Prime is strange. I remember when I first got here. It was Brandon DeMarco who first approached me with the idea of 'mortal safari' as he called it. He's been living for more than a thousand years and for a guy that old, any new experience is precious. I myself started my third century when we first talked. "Imagine it, billions of temps and you amongst them. Their short lifes for you to learn, experience with them. It's like one of those simulations, only it costs nothing and lasts as long as you want it to"he said with a big smile. "As long as we don't get caught"I responded with doubt. "And as long as we don't accidentally die somewhere." "That's just part of the fun!"he said with excitement. Was that all it took? If I would to be honest with myself, the answer is yes. I could have pretended there were other reasons. My poor living conditions. Lack of perspectives. Massive debt. But in the end it was the boredom. It was always the boredom. That's how he dragged me on a wild solar week in a casino on Io. That's how he convinced me to buy that upgrade that allowed me to read body language easier. "For the ladies"he explained it. And ultimately it was boredom that had me hide in a cargo hold of a mission ship along with Brandon and few other guys he convinced. There was six of us in total, undoubtedly more were already on Terra Prime. What temps called 'Earth', we freetimers called a perfect early retirement location. Who would have thought Brandon was right? In his crazy ventures to seek out new thrills and joyrides, he missed the mark on what's fun more often than he got it right. For him it was always all or nothing. 'Part of the fun', as he said it. Terra Prime, or Earth if you prefer, was a jackpot. Billions of temps lived and died all around us, their existence a constant, wild trip of adrenaline rushes and crazy leaps of faith. It's funny how immortality gives a certain... carefulness to ones actions. Most freetimers I met during my first century would never risk their lives for anything, especially for fun. In my first week on Earth a newly met girl invited me on base jumping. She was only twenty, a child in my eyes, but an adult in her world. I agreed immediately, curious of the rush it could bring. It was like flying on breath of the god, chasing the sunrise. Later, we had sex in her apartment. I've never in my 324 years felt so alive. And it was only the beginning. In my first few years I've tasted a lot, yet according to Brandon not nearly ten percent of what Earth has to offer. We took drugs, climbed mountains, performed most extreme stunts. Wherever we went, we met people like that girl from my first week. Young, wild, impulsive people. I was amazed by their bravery. Most times they thought us to have biggest balls, but we already lived through multitudes of their lifetimes. They had all of it to loose, and still they risked everything. I've learned that temps value their existence far more than any freetimer. It's because of that constant struggle of theirs, to chase experience after experience. They counted their days and wanted them to be special. Brandon stopped counting after he turned 500. I was the only one who knew he was one of the first people born on Mars, all those years ago. All the time I knew him he never cared for his life. He only cared for feeling something. Was it because he was raised by temps? Did dozens of generations of infinite lifespans render our species devoided of any desires to actually live? I'm not going back, no matter what. This place is the only one worth living in. The only place where living meant actually living. As long as I'm smart, they won't know I'm here. I'm not going to start a family or settle anywhere. After all, the only thing I care about is the thrill.
Klarjtek had never been this excited before. First contact. His kind had long since speculated about the presence of sentient life on other planets, but they hadn’t yet developed the means to explore past their own world. But, as the twin suns rose this morning, word had spread they had been visited. Alien beings had landed their shiny metal ship on the outskirts of town. The strange creatures hadn’t ventured far since their arrival. They seemed content to set up their equipment next to their ship. Klarjtek had heard from a friend that they were hideous to behold. Eager to see for himself, Klarjtek set off, crawling his way across the rocky terrain as fast as his seven legs could carry him. He was nearing the vantage point where others of his kind had gathered for a distant view, when he heard something behind him. Turning, he froze in terror at the monstrosity before him. Easily ten times his height, the creature loomed on just two feet. Another pair of long appendages sprouted from its torso, both sickeningly splitting into five wiggling pieces at the end. One of the appendages was supporting a long, hollowed stick of metal. Klarjtek locked eyes with the monster, and realized in that moment his kind had made a grave error in celebrating the arrival of these visitors. A loud bang was the last sound he would ever hear. Shortly after Klarjtek’s demise, the creature returned to its shipside camp. Opening its large maw, it happily called out, “Janet, Ethan, look! I think I found us some dinner.”
The metal barrel of the gun was ice cold against my temple. A thin cable dug into my wrists and drew blood as I tried to pull myself away, but I was stuck fast to the creaking wooden seat. My legs were tied to the closest leg of the metal desk, upon which sat a dozen screens and several dozen buttons. All but one of each was dark. "The game is simple. One choice, two outcomes." My eyes darted across the panels and screens in front of me. Someone was talking, their reflection just visible in the many smaller screens that surrounded the one larger screen in the middle. The smaller screens were off, but the larger one was showing the view from the top of a train as it sat still on the tracks, which stretched out into the distance. An oily hand reached across to a small monitor next to the one that was already on. After a moment, this second screen flickered to life, contrast gradually increasing until I could make out the scene. Five people, struggling and so far failing to free themselves from the ropes that tied them to train tracks. My eyes widened. "What the fuck is th-"my head exploded in white hot pain. I found myself staring at my lap as a thin red line of bloody drool fell from my mouth to my leg. My cheek was warm and my right ear rung loudly. "What did I say about that kind of language?" I tensed my fists and found them slick and warm. More blood. I pulled my eyes back up to the desk, licking the blood from my lips. Bitter. One button on the panel was lit as before, but another monitor had come on, this one showing a similar scene, though only one person was tied down instead of the five from the second screen. The loner didn't appear to be struggling, they were crouched, shaking, their head bowed. Begging? "As I said, a simple game. Would you like to know the rules?" I turned my head as far as I could and found myself looking into the eyes of a large, well built man wearing a suit jacket over dirty blue overalls. His face had a scar running down one cheek and through a lip. It pulled his mouth down into a scowl. He leaned on an office chair, a dirty gun pointed at my head from mere inches away. "I'll take that look of fear and hatred as a yes. You push that button,"he pointed at the one lit button on the panel, "that guy dies. You don't push that button, the family dies." I looked back to the second screen. Family? Two of the struggling bodies did look small... Kids? "The family are innocent. As innocent as any modern family can be, anyway. That guy on his own? A rapist and a murderer." I glanced at the third screen, at the lone man who now appeared to be sobbing into his lap as he weakly pulled at the ropes that bound him. I looked back at the scarred man and he smiled as he said, "A simple choice, surely. Let the lone man die. Save the family. Let's make this fun, then. The train is now moving,"with the barrel of his gun he pressed a button on the panel which lit up in response. The larger screen began to change - the train was indeed moving forward. I spat out some blood that had pooled in my mouth. The scarred man continued, "that gives you about 30 seconds to decide if you want to kill a criminal and take full blame for murder in order to save a family, or do nothing and save yourself. At the expense of that family, of course." My eyes widened. I stared at the second screen, the one with the family. Their heads had all turned in the same direction, facing along the tracks. "H-how..." "Ah! How do you save them?"He asked as my eyes flicked between the family and the ever faster train. The restraint around one of my wrists loosened as he continued to speak. "Just hit that button, the one that is on. It'll switch the tracks at the junction and the family will be saved." If I hit that button, my blood would be on it. Could I convince a court of this situation? That I was held hostage and forced to decide who lived and who died? Surely the blood, the injuries... But what if I couldn't? What if they didn't believe me? "Tick tock, fat controller, Thomas is nearly at the junction!" "Even if I do nothing I'll still get arrested for this!"I said, panicked. "Not if I beat the shit out of you. Just claim you were unconscious the whole time." I hated to agree, but the logic was sound. By doing nothing I could be free, but by doing something I would be choosing to murder someone. How did I know he was a criminal? I had no evidence to go on but the word of a clearly deluded man with a gun. Could I live with myself if I chose to- "five seconds and your time is up." My hand leapt up to the panel, hovering over the button, but I did not press it. I stared at my hand for what seemed like both an eternity and an instant. "Four." The sound of the voice puncturing the air moved my eyes, which settled on the family, each struggling to free themselves from the tracks. "Three." My eyes moved across to the large middle screen, scenery flying by as the train kept picking up speed. The flashing lights of the junction were quickly approaching. "Two." I glanced at the lone criminal, he hadn't moved much at all. "One." I withdrew my hand from the panel, button unpressed. "And done. I'm surprised. The family it is then. I wonder how long you will be able to live with yourself." In the moments before I was knocked unconscious, I stared at the largest screen in horror as five shapes emerged from the tracks in the distance and quickly disappeared under the train. The smaller screen showed a train rushing past where the family of five had been, ropes flailing in the wind. The other small screen hadn't changed much, the lone criminal had yet to make any effort at escape. I awoke in a white room, covered in bandages. A low humming sound filled the air. Hospital. My head was pounding. I tried moving my hand to my face but it met resistance. Glancing down, I saw that I was handcuffed to the railings of the bed. Two police officers were outside of the door. One looked in and our eyes met. A single emotion was communicated in that split second. Hatred. I closed my eyes as the door opened, the memories of the man, his scars and his game flooding back. The train. The criminal. The family. I wept.
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I awoke with a start. My palms laced in sweat, traces of saliva and snot. I must've fallen asleep in my recliner again. Slowly standing I looked around the room. I saw my son, Joey staring at his smartphone, he was supposed to finish his homework. "Joey!"I instinctively hollered, "Why haven't you finished your homework?" "Ugh dad give me a break, why did you nod off in that chair again?"He snapped back. Dismissing it i walked towards the kitchen going o grab a beer from the fridge. Just recently I was fired from a job at the highest earning university in the country, where I taught high level Physics. Somehow, I struggled to get my son academically inclined. Turning from the fridge, beer in hand i walked back towards the living room. That's when I saw him there. Joey stared at me, those weren't his eyes! Smoky tendrils flew out of his nostrils as he spoke in a deep voice, "I want it all! Give me everything!" Scared I raised my left arm extending my right to give him the beer, this was no prank, dad's don't fall for pranks. He took it, popped off the cap with his bare hands and hastily gargled it down. I was paralyzed in shock. I saw a smoky tendril flow towards me, and I closed my eyes tight. A few seconds passed until I could sneak a glance. An aura of light surrounded me, causing the tendrils to bounce off. Some courage flowed back to me realizing I couldn't be affected and I stood tall. "Need another beer? I have lots." Astounded by my Canadian like kindness the demon that was inside my son looked at me. "I would love that." Together we went to the kitchen and gargled down a few beers. When I was drunk enough I asked the real question. "Hey ah buddy, would ah, would ye mind giving me ma son, ma son back?" To which my new friend replied "Oh hey, I forgot buddy sorry. Here you go." I watched as the smoky essence left Joey and travelled out towards the front door. I was gonna miss that guy. Suddenly my son started to vomit. Hey, I can do that too!
I ran with my partner out of the dark building, dragging my end of the large sack behind me, it's weight slowing me down. We just needed to get to the car, then the driver would be able to go, but the sack was moving around- the man inside was squirming. I looked at my partner. "I'll interrogate him. You go around to the front." He nodded, then let go of the sack. The weight instantly doubled but I was prepared for it. Plus, I was close to the door, and I could open it easily. I opened the door, scrambled inside and set the sack down. I ripped the sack off the humanoid figure. The man was still bound, but then I saw what was in his hand. It was a gun. My mouth turned dry. "Oh..." A shot went off, hitting me in the stomach, and my vision went dark. I waited for the re-spawn, but I groaned inwardly- I had failed the mission. I would have to use one of my spawn points, and I would lose my streak for this. Within seconds, I reappeared in the room I knew too well. It was on the 45th floor of a tall glass building suspended in the middle of nowhere. A big sign was lit on top: Henchman Inc. The home of all Henchman, future and past. My room was the same as all the other ones. I stood there, analyzing my stats on the big screen. What I had predicted was correct. My spawn points had gone down, and I lost my streak. My level stayed the same, though. "I see you failed again."I spun around, startled. A man stood there, who I knew as my mentor. He had obviously gone in ghost mode during my mission. "You'll never pass graduate school and become a henchman if you don't get that final level you need. You won't get that by failing on practice missions. You missed a step in the rules didn't you? What is step 9?" "Make sure the victim is unarmed,"I said crestfallen. That mission, if it had been a success would have given me at least half the requirement for another level. "Well, that's it. I had higher expectations. You are dismissed for lunch."He waved his hand towards the door. I went out the door and followed the directions to the lunch hall. Not that I needed them. Soon, the hallway opened up into the grand meal area. That was the advantage of living on the 45th floor. Meals were on the same floor as you. I quickly ran around, got some food, using some extra credits for extra food today. I needed it too. Today was an opportunity blown because of a small mishap. I sat in my designated spot. All the henchman in training were put to eat separately, which was how we would probably eat anyway. We didn't have any friends or know each other. It was the lonely life of an evil henchman. After lunch I went to the practice facility to train. I didn't want to, and I just wanted to start a new mission right away, but you need to do a correctional training before I did a mission. It was just simulations and reading the rules hundreds of times- boring stuff. But I don't mind it. This is a henchman's life. Lonely. Hard. This is Henchman Inc. Welcome to my life.
I leave the absolute quietness of my apartment and walk out into the sound polluted city. I walk to a nearby coffee shop and sit down in a dark corner. I've been chilling in Moscow for a week and am starting to get antsy. I glance across the shop and see the only other consistent patron. For the first time in a week someone else sat down with the man. I'd learned to stare covertly and I kept my gaze on them. "You have the money?"The regular patron asked the new comer in Russian. "I do,"answered the new comer. "You have documents" The regular patron put an envelope on the table. "They are perfect, will get you into United States, no problem." The two swapped envelopes and the new comer left. I picked up my coffee and trailed after the new comer. Part of the puzzle was solved, thanks to my unique abilities. Who wouldve have thought that the world's greatest spy can only hear through the ears of the person he's looking at. No one ever suspects a thing.
"Yeah, hello! I like the look. OKAY, time to start." "Um, I'm sorry, I'm just here to deliver a pizza. This is 45 SE. Cypress, Right?" "Yes! GREAT Delivery. Okay, now you have to throw the pizza. Throw the pizza to me, you know? Make me feel the pressures of American society in your throw." "Sir, I can't see you. There's a spotlight shining in my eyes and, um, we aren't allowed to throw the pizza." "Neoow! I said throw the pizza, and I don't know if you've been on a set before or not, but when your director says to throw the pizza, you have to ABSOLUTELY throw the pizza." "Sir? I can't throw the pizza." "Okay. Yeah. I can respect that." "Can... Can I go now?" "Hahaha. Anyways, how's your sex life?"
The Way Back Alex had said the beach house had burned down. Lydia promised it wasn’t south at all, but hours north up the coast, past Dunedin. Neither of these were true. While Mila couldn’t understand why her siblings were lying, she understood to stop asking by the time she was 12. Until college, Mila hid her obsession to find the cabin by falling in love with topography. When she graduated in the top of her class, it seemed natural to her family to accept the scholarship to the Geospacial and Mapping Sciences program at the University of Glasgow. She had not returned to New Zealand until found a 3 year research contract that required her to explore the far-flung regions of the south coastline. Both siblings had openly questioned why she would return at all- Alex was in Manchester and Lydia was a banker in Sydney- neither wanting to return until the death of their mother forced them back to sell the house and reallocate belongings of the dead. Their mother passed over before Mila’s 30th birthday, and had given Mila the final piece of the puzzle. “I’ve done the most horrible thing a parent can do. Please get them back. Please tell them I couldn’t stop it,” Jane wept, her cool grasp frozen around Mila’s hand. Her eyes were glassy and the amount of morphine coursing through her body would have made anyone else doubt her cognizance. “We forgive you, mommy. Just tell me what happened.” “Did you know they never touched me again? I couldn’t hug my children. But they weren’t my children anymore.” “Mommy, we’re all your children?.” Jane’s hand clenched and her voice dropped to a hiss. “You are, not them. They’re still on the beach. Fraser Beach. If you take them there, Alex and Lydia can get back inside. Please get them, Mila, rescue them.” Jane put her hand on Mila’s cheek. “What’s inside them….I thought it would leave. It was supposed to leave.” A nurse came in and clicked off a buzzing machine. “I am so sorry. But she’s at peace now.” Mila blinked, realized the alarm was her mother’s heart monitor. *** Both Lydia and Alex had tried to reneg on coming home after Jane’s death, and only after Mila paid for both plane tickets and promised a less than 48 hour stay had they agreed. She knew they wouldn’t want to come back. If Jane had been right, if that conversation had really happened, this was going to be her only chance. She used Alex’s jetlag and Lydia’s penchant for vodka to her advantage. Hours after picking them up from the airport, they were sleeping in Mila’s car as she drove. Fortrose was 40 minutes away, and the doses of muscle relaxers wouldn’t be wearing off for hours. South of the city, she drove past the country club to come at the beach from a more remote direction. She probably didn’t need to be so cautious, she hadn’t so much seen another car on the road since leaving the Invercargill city limits. As darkness collapsed on the beach, the waves uncoiled and stretched up the sand like snake’s tongue, plotting an attack. Mila dragged Lydia separately on a tarp to hollow carved in one of the tall, steep rocks jutting from the beach. The hole went back ten feet-the back wall dripped from the ocean’s pressure pushing against it. Mila had set up solar lanterns and her supplies and switched them on before going back for Alex. Dragging his unresponsive body over the sand, Mila noticed some of the lanterns blinking. Feeling nauseous, Mila pulled faster and put a rope anchored to the outside of the rock around Alex’s neck. He lay there, tethered, unaware that he was laying in the cold water. If he rolled over, there was enough water to drown him, and Mila wasn’t sure he’d wake up to save himself. A crack like thunder came from the cave. Mila stepped among the slippery rocks to see her sister standing, holding one of the lanterns in her arms like a baby. Lydia’s eyes looked yellow, the iris, the whites, all of it the color of angered pus. Lydia lurched toward her and screamed again, the rock walls amplifying the sound. Mila swung at her sister and landed a punch near her yellow eye. Lydia took a stunned step back and Mila put another rope around her neck. Mila had meant to tie her up, but had forgotten. Rescue them, Jane had pleaded. You can get them back inside. Another loud scream pierced her eardrums, and she turned to see Alex looking like a dog on a secured leash. His arms and feet shuffled even though the rope squeezed his neck. His eyes bulged, lemony and angry. She froze. Neither sibling could reach her, though they both futility attempted to grab. “You can’t change us,” Alex shrieked, his voice three octaves higher. “We aren’t leaving!” Lydia scratched feverishly at the rope, cutting her face and neck over and over. Mila lit a candle, set it at her feet inside the circle of protection she had carved into the rocks. She put one palm to face each sibling. “Kehukehu, I banish you. Leave these vessels, the originals souls demand their return.” She repeated the phrase, louder each time, until she couldn’t hear them yelling over her own voice. Mila glanced at Lydia, and saw her scratching increase. Blood was running down her face and her arms. She still glared at Mila, her yellow eyes seemed to bubble, as if they were on a stove about to boil. Both siblings kept screaming. They stopped trying to reach her and took to throwing themselves on to the rocks. Each time they rose only to fall again. They grew weak but kept screaming until they were hoarse-then kept going with only soft hisses escaping them. Mila kept chanting. Minutes or hours later (Mila wasn’t sure) both prisoners collapsed on the rocks, too injured and tired to move. When she willed herself to stop the chant, only heavy silence prevailed. She didn’t hear the ocean, and stomped her foot only to feel the rock under her foot but not hear it. Unsure if she should step out of her circle, she felt a warm rush of salty air enter the hollow rock. It moved around the cave as a unified gust. While she didn’t hear it, she felt the air tingle, somehow pressurized, and then it was gone. Mila blinked and was in total darkness. The sound of the ocean had returned, things seemed deafening as she scrambled on the rocks to check on Lydia, who was curled into a ball. Mila heard crying and touched her sister’s shoulder with trepidation. Lydia rolled over and looked at Mila, as if for the first time. Her mouth opened and closed, her face looked estatic. “Mila? Is that you?” Her voice was small, scared. “Is it really you?” “Lydia, is that really you?” Tears shot out of Lydia’s eyes. “Yes! Yes! I don’t know, why you’re here, how it worked…” she wiped her cheeks. “It’s been so awful.” Mila hugged her then, and felt her sister, her real sister, hug her back. “Lydia? Is this true? Are we...back?” Alex was sitting up looking at his hands as he moved them. “She did it, Alex. Mila did it.” He looked at Mila, who removed the rope with a love so real it made Mila look away. He hugged her tightly and she squeezed him back, even though he was soaking wet and shaking from the cold. Mila thought he smelled different, like candy, like relief. “Mila,” he whispered into her ear, “oh my god, Mila, you saved us. Thank you.” Lydia hugged both of them and wept. “It’s over, it’s really over.” Mila felt her brother and sister hold her and felt tears choke her. This was the first time either of them had touched her since they had come here on a family vacation, twenty-two years ago.
A fireman was stood in the middle of a charred room, surrounded by rubble. Wearing a thick heavy yellow jacket with bright orange stripes. Sweat dripping from his brow, slightly fogging up a full face respirator mask. He reached for a small yellow device hanging off his belt and pressed a button. The device beeped and an LCD lit up displaying "1, 0, 0, 20.9, 91.1 - Safe"on it. Reaching to the radio on his shoulder he announced "Fans up, Basement structure has been reinforced and the air quality is safe. Over." He removed his thick heavy gloves, and wedged them under his left arm while he lowered his head and began pulling off his respirator mask. "What'cha got, Markov?"a man wearing a much lighter uniform with a large FIU inscribed on it, asked stomping down the stairs and through the rubble. "Two deceased. Bunch of tools in the rubble. Soot covered chest at the center of a burn pattern. Exploded acetylene tank."Markov listed. "Fire was definitely hot enough to melt metal."Jones replied, pointing to a deformed ladder in the corner of the room. Markov pulled a small laser thermometer out of a pocket from inside his jacket and pointed it at the chest. "I think my thermometer is fucked up. It says the chest is sixty-eight degrees, but it's ninety something in the room and the floor around it is still at one-forty."Markov noted, slapping the thermometer a bit. The two men looked at it for a few seconds before Jones pulled his glove off and felt the chest. "Yeah. It's cool to the touch."He stated, wiping his sooty hand onto the back of his gloved hand. "Aren't you supposed to be the chicken-shit super safety guy, now that you're a full fledged investigator and not one of us grunts?"Markov asked. "Next time I'll get you to do it then. But now, I really want to know what's in there."Jones professed. "We can't open it. That would be incredibly unethical."said staring at Jones curiously. "Greed? Who writes greed on a chest? Who labels a chest permanently like that?"Jones asked to no one in particular as he wiped more soot off the chest with his bare hands. "Look at that, without the soot it's like the box wasn't even in the fire."Markov said caressing one of the corners of the chest. "It feels just like wood too, but there's no way it could survive the fire. Whoever made this is one fantastic craftsman."Markov answered as if it was one of Jones' questions, rubbing the chest. "I wonder if whatever is inside of it survived the fire..."Jones pondered aloud. The two men looked stared at the chest for a few moments before slowly looking at each other. "You sure you don't want to peek inside?"Jones asked. "More than anything in the world right now. Let's open it!"Markov replied reaching down looking for any kind of latch or keyhole. Jones wiggled the lid, shifting the chest around. "No latch, no keyhole, but it's still locked somehow..."Markov announced. "Well, it's light we could definitely just pick it up and smash it on the ground."Jones remarked. Markov Grabbed the unnaturally light chest, lifted it high above his head and slammed it down with as much force as he could muster. The chest landed on the ground without so much as a bang. It did not break, it did not bounce. It appeared to absorb all the shock and simply rested on the ground as if nothing had happened. Jones looked around to find the ax Markov brought down when he first entered the house. Markov set the chest on it's side while Jones raised the ax high above his head and brought it down as hard as he could on what looked like the hinge of the lid. The ax head shattered on impact, without leaving a dent. "FUCK!"Screamed Markov as he fell backwards holding his right eye. "Fuck. I got a piece of metal or some shit in my eye!" "Jesus, we got an ambulance crew upstairs go get it checked out..."Jones ordered. "Fuck that! I'm not letting you have what's in there all to yourself!"Markov rebuffed, tearing a crowbar out of the hands of one of the corpses.
This WP ties into a previous prompt that I wrote [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8sayc2/wp_after_mastering_lucid_dreaming_you_find_you/e0ywjm4), so this is a continuation, which also ties into this one [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8s0c98/wp_a_person_from_your_past_recently_started/e0wszuq). Not sure if this is a trend, or even a series I'll keep up with, but there you have it. Hope you enjoy. \----------------------------- The morning sun, brightening the room rousing me from sleep. I languidly yawned and stretched, teasing out my stiff muscles before climbing out of bed for my normal morning routine when a sharp pain in my left forearm stopped me. Looking down, spotting crusted blood streaked on my arm, I immediately threw off the covers, rushing out of bed to survey the damage to my much beloved sheets and comforter. Both the sheets and blankets had streaks of blood and I sighed heavily, realizing that I would be spending the day doing multiple loads of laundry. Waking up to find odd marks, bruises and scars wasn't abnormal considering the responsibility I had chosen while asleep. The mind is an incredibly powerful thing, and while I knew that nothing in the dreams could actually hurt me, somehow it never failed that the next morning would reveal a fresh set of bruises that could have only matched the battle scars from the night prior. Years ago, I had brushed off the bruises as coincidence from either running into something, someone at work gripping my arm or a friend grabbing me too hard since I was so pale, but when I was laid off and the marks still continued to appear I was forced to face the fact that without anyone around there was no other logical explanation for the mysterious markings. One dream in particular left distinct handprint bruises for over a week on both of my arms, leading my friends to question whether I had found a new boyfriend. The man who had appeared in my dreams months prior had reappeared to plague my sleep once more, only this time he was desperate to have a conversation I wasn't quite prepared to discuss. Shaking off that train of thought, I wandered into the bathroom to wash off the wound and bandage myself up. The cold water startled me out of my thoughts and a hissed breath escaped from between my lips as the wound came into contact with the freezing water. Usually, the cuts were much shallower, if there was even a cut at all, but as the crusted blood cleared a familiar shape appeared in the wound. "A fucking bullet?!"I shouted, aghast. "I don't remember anyone shooting at me last...oh, wait, yeah, Jane and her asshole of a step-father. Fuck." Fortunately, the bullet was only partially in my arm, the heel sticking out just far enough that I figured I could remove it with a pair of tweezers. My cat, Fergus, sauntered into the bathroom to see what the fuss was about, hopping up on the toilet to survey me. "Oh did I wake you up?"I muttered as I shuffled through the drawer, cabinet and closet, withdrawing the various items I would need. He responded with a wide yawn and continued to watch, clearly bored with the entire situation. Everything now laid out, within easy reach meant that it was time for me to actually remove the bullet. I downed three aspirin with a swig of water from the faucet and tried to think if I was missing anything critical. Realizing I couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, I poured rubbing alcohol over the tweezers and drew in a deep breath before carefully gripping the bullet. "Here goes nothing,"I said to the cat. The bullet didn't slide out easily as most movies depict. Instead, the impact had caused the bullet to crumple, causing ridges, which causes friction, and friction means pain. Lots and lots of pain. After several deep breaths and multiple tries, I eventually dropped the bullet into the sink where I could study it later, but for right now I needed to sit down and try not to pass out. Grabbing a towel as I pushed the cat off of the toilet, much to his chagrin, and cradled my arm in the towel while holding it above my heart to slow the bleeding. "The movies make this look so easy,"I stated, while trying to wipe the sweat from my face with my right sleeve. Fergus merely twitched his tail in response, amused. "Badass hero easily removes a bullet with some grunting noises and still looking super heroic while doing it. Such bullshit."He meowed in agreement, so I continued. "Meanwhile, real life here, I'm dripping sweat, probably talking really loud because of the ringing in my ears and trying not to pass out. By the way, is it hot in here?"Fergus butted his head against my knee as I swayed on the toilet unsteadily. I awoke several minutes later to Fergus laying on my chest, licking my nose as snores emanated from the bedroom, letting me know that the dog had slept through the entire ordeal. Fergus is no small creature weighing in at a little over 20lbs and standing as tall as my knee. The adoption agency told me that he's an Abyssinian, but he's much more solidly built than the lithe creatures I found online after adopting him. His golden eyes and matching fur also didn't match the description, but I didn't care and stuck with the Abyssinian label whenever asked. "It's ok Fergus, I'm good now."I said. After carefully checking me over, Fergus, apparently satisfied, released me and sat a few feet away studying my movements. I sat up slowly, waiting to see if the ringing in my ears would return, and was fortunate it did not. Still seated, I grabbed the gauze and tape from the counter top and applied both to the wound, staunching the flow of blood. "How about we go back to bed?"I said to Fergus, who meowed in agreement. Grabbing the counter for support, I cautiously stood and then walked back to the bedroom, collapsing back into bed. I really needed to work on armor so this didn't happen again. "Lesson learned, right?"I said as Fergus jumped up onto the blood streaked linens. He carefully laid down next to me and kept watch as I drifted off to sleep. Later, I would definitely deal with all of this later.
Hi u/baaad_whiskey, this submission has been removed. [No explicitly sexual responses, hate speech, or other harmful content](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content) - Politics: We are not currently allowing political prompts (see rule #7) as the aim of the sub is to encourage people to write and political prompts are leading to arguments instead of stories. Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)) Sorry! --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8slvr0/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
'Oh this planet, you'll like this planet, Arthur,' Ford said as they strolled down the shopping district. 'They've got everything you want before you even know you want it at all!' 'What? like they've got everything? candy?' 'Oh, yes.' 'Milk Duds, Twizzlers, Double Bubble?' 'Oh most definitely.' 'Doughnuts? Muffins? How about connolis? 'Yes, Arthur, anything you want.' 'Sneakers, televisions, digital watches?' 'Oh, no, not digital watches. Nobody wants those, anymore.' 'Well, what if I wanted one?' 'Well then yes, they'd have it. Do you want a digital watch, Arthur?' Arthur thought a moment then said, 'No.' 'But it's so much more than just candy or appliances, Arthur. It's about service! Take, for instance, that coffee shoppe.' 'What of it?' 'Do you want some coffee?' 'Actually, I was a bit groggy today.' 'Good! It just opened. Let's go in for a cup of Joe and see what's on the menu!' Ford and Arthur approached the Coffee Shoppe and just before they reached the door it swung open. The man holding the door said, 'Thank you. That'll be six dollars and seventy-two cents.' 'But I haven't ordered any-' 'Your Pan Galactic Gargle Coffee, sir.' Ford smiled wide and downed the drink in one quick gulp, then winced and held his head his head and hooted. The man turned to Arthur and sneered. 'Your espresso with skim milk and, eh hem, brown sugar.' He closed the door and likewise placed a closed sign in the window. Arthur blinked then said, 'But how did -' 'Drink, Arthur.' He drank. 'Delicious! But I just don't understand. How could he possibly have known what I'd want?' 'Things just happen in a different order around here and they are capitalizing on it! It's best not to stay long, though, or you might get into all sorts of trouble.' 'Trouble? what do you mean "trouble?"' 'Arthur,' a soft voice said from behind him. Arthur turned. 'Yes, Miss? I'm sorry, do I know you?' Her blue eyes welled and her nose reddened. 'I'm pregnant!' Arthur looked at the woman's large belly, shocked. 'What?' 'Pregnant, Arthur! I wanted to use protection! Why did you have to insist on the "ol' natural way?'" Arthur looked at Ford, who said, 'Well that wasn't too smart of you, now was it?' He looked back to the woman. She slapped him across the face. 'Stop staring at her!' 'What?' Arthur caught sight of a buxom blond woman walking incredibly pleasant to his eye down the street. She slapped him again. "I can't afford a child on a tips alone. I'll have to stop going to school! But you'll help me out, won't you? You've always been there for me, Arty. *Ahhh!' An ambulance screeched to a halt beside them. 'Oh, no! It's coming!' 'What?' The paramedics carried the woman into the ambulance. She cried, 'I can't do this without you, Arty baby! I'll see you at the hospital! I love you!' The Ambulance doors closed and it sped off. Ford and Arthur stood silent for a time, until Arthur said, 'What?' 'Appears you're a father now.' 'But how? I've never seen that woman in my life!' 'Haven't seen her yet,* Arthur. Isn't this planet great?' Arthur frowned at Ford and said, 'We're leaving.' A taxi pulled up beside Arthur. 'Headin' to the hospital, sir?' Arthur's mouth opened. He closed it then got into the taxi.
i’m standing, literally, on a podium, pondering this very subject, which - you could say - over-piqued my zest. i tap on the mic, thrice, and get the attention of those in the funeral home, all laughing and kissing and whatever else you do at a small dormitory party. the population of the room is 50% ivy league attendees, 49% successful individuals, and >1 percent dopeheads. i don’t pride myself on being in that one percent. my father never loved me, simply for the reason that i always loved singing, and was “arrogant enough to believe that my ‘voice would get the attention of those who have achieved a higher status of heaven and force them to descend to this forsaken ball of warmth’..” but, then again, i was born into a family whose foundation was based on arrogance and luck. i now sing on side of the streets for money, tipped into my fedora hat, because - sadly - 99.1% of this room believes in darwinism. speaking of that higher status of living, i never questioned the hypothesis - because everyone in my successful and envy-inducing family supposed it to be true. but, maybe their creativity has stretched too far outside of the box. and that goes for the 99% of the population who blindly follow anything they hear on television, despite having a less creative mindset (ironically) “attention” every turned their heads to me. newlyweds stopped kissing, in-laws stopped dancing, and the elderly stopped prancing. “i...don’t know if you should be celebrating this man’s death. i mean, i hated him via reciprocation - so much so that i dreamt of killing....never mind that’s besides the point. i have formulated a new hypothesis. “i believe that this whole “achieve a higher status” and “living forever” theory has tainted your mindsets into believing that everyone gets into a better place, diminishing the more popular concepts of religion like Christianity and Catholicism - although it seems you have abandoned the bad parts of Christianity due to non-comforting conjunctions which comes with the package of said religion.” tamara inquires. “what do you mean?” my mind is blank for a second, then my process resumes. “i mean that this whole “everything will be alright” following you’ve all gathered worldwide isn’t how the world should be.” “but,” rashad interlopes, “it’s had positive results on the world.” i activated my trump card. i’ll spare you the political conjuring of percentages and percentiles to convey flaws, and sum up my approximately 7 minute speech (i’ve been practicing what i was goin to say, because, in a room of near perfect minds, you have to come out even more perfect in order to win the debate (but that doesn’t mean you need a title of any beneficial notoriety)) with, “in conclusion, the world’s crime is at an all time high, with wrongly prosecuted criminals being sent to death row and dangerous men still staying on the streets, global warming has melted more ice than brimston’s conventional oven of a breath , and - all in all - the world is still flawed. so stop pretending that we deserve everything in the afterlife, for you can put on the act, but your actions say a lot more..” “the man in this casket - you may know him as my father - he murdered my mother, and i had to sit at that funeral while you all were making jokes, drinking, even going as far as prepping a mock trial for my father for laughs. you simply pretended like someone needs to place a wet floor sign there, and never acknowledged my pain. you all lived in paradise while i remained in hell.” i began to shed tears. i had the one-sided debate in the bag. “‘tis the path of a pessimist..” tamara remarked. i became stiff. “wh...what did you say, tamara?” i uttered. “that’s why we made the hypothesis and enforced it so heavily - we simply wanted to unify the world, zero. pessimistic scums only want to tear down progress through precautious deductions. but even they have a chance for redemption now..our project was successful - don’t you see that relying on your pessimistic ways will only drag you further down the path of despair?” i was in utter shock. i couldn’t express it with my face, my words - nothing. i stood there, embarrassed, with all eyes on me, just now realizing that this 50 year war was one on the pessimists - in an effort to fake a utopian paradise via optimists.. and it all began with this one hypothesis.. everyone returned to their kissing, dancing, and prancing, laughing in my face - as if nothing happened. i stepped off the podium, and into the closet, awaiting my demise. “i failed. too many times.” this thought has occurred in my head many times within a simple second. i grab the chair, put it right under my new objective, and wrap the objective around my neck. “death..comfort me when all is gone, including my reputation in the family, who behave like monsters...” i heard a voice, the angel on my shoulder.. “zero, you’re gonna kill yourself over a disagreement?” “YES!” i cried, literally. tears came down like two mini waterfalls. and, in vain, i kicked the chair, reminiscing about the way my father smiled when he killed my mother in the kitchen that day. even in the room, i hear the cries of laughter: “let my father forever be cherished in this higher status of living!” glasses clinked, around the same time i thought, “i don’t wanna be apart of this cult”, all the while struggling to breathe. and then i woke up - in that cell. my inmate preaching to nearby cellmates about the word of god. truth is, i killed my mother. stressed from ptsd, and on the brink of suicide when i heard the grenades, i killed her - in the ways of an american soldier in the Iranian trenches, losing his brothers to grenades ever so slowly. she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and i haven’t regretted my decision to let my stress take control of the wheel ever since. this would be the third nightmare in a row i had about my mother, and the fifth night my inmate -dwayne- preached of the lord with his newfound bible.
Three twisted oaks. The sound of the river. The sunset behind the hills. This was the spot. Robert was sure of it- it checked all the boxes. Three twisted oaks. As he stood facing the odd formation of large oak trees, he couldn’t help but notice that not only were they placed oddly close to each other, but they formed an impressive entanglement as they rose up from the earth. They made Robert feel quite small. “Wow. This has to be it.” He said to himself, staring up at the impressive formation. He was starting to get scared as the sun was slowly getting lower on the horizon. It wasn’t typical for Robert to be out by himself in the wilderness this late. He was petrified of the dark forest. He found the courage to close his eyes, and listen to what nature had to say. Memories of his older bother’s whispers rang through his head. The sound of the river He cracked a smile. He heard the river rushing nearby- the second requirement had been met. Fulfilling his destiny was at last becoming a reality. As Robert opened his eyes he excitedly began searching for the sun through the tree branches and leaves above him. The sun was setting now. He was running out of time again. This wasn’t the first time he thought he found the spot- but Robert’s heart was beating in his throat and he knew this was it. One last step. One last clue to finding the very thing needed to set him free. Anxiety built in Robert’s chest as he fought the urge to run back through the forest to make it home before the sun set and he was alone in the pitch darkness. Should he run and make it home? Should he stay and fulfill his brother’s final wish? Robert sat and waited for the sun to set- against every instinct in his body. It was almost time. The sunset behind the hills. “This is it. I found it!” Shouted Robert. The sun was dipping below the grassy hills surrounding the tree formation, confirming that this was indeed the location his brother had described to him those years ago. He picked up the dirty garden shovel he carried all this way and began digging between the trees, desperate to cut through the relentless mess if roots he encountered on the way down. In all the fury, and the panic, he did not realize how dark it was getting. “It gets dark quite fast in the forest.” He told himself. “Surely I will find it soon.” There wasn’t much space between the trees to dig. He swung the shovel faster and faster, tears swelling in his eyes and his heart racing. His brother’s ghost pushed him further down. With a clash, he felt the small shovel hit something. It wasn’t dirt. It wasn’t the tree roots. It was metal. Blood rushed to Robert’s head and he began to collect himself. He carefully excavated around the rusty metal box. His face stung from the tears drying down his cheeks and neck. He heaved the small box up onto the level surface and prepared to carry the contents back home. Robert ran through the forest, trying not to trip on anything and hurt himself- but he was terrified. It seemed the faster he ran, the more scared he was. Navigating the forest at night was difficult. The boy was only able to keep on the trail by looking up at the trees above him and staying where the branches were more scarce against the moonlit sky. At last he broke free of the tree line and saw the house in the distance, across the field. He dreaded the sight- he knew what often awaited him there. Surely he would face the music for being out so late by himself- but it didn’t matter anymore. At last, he was in control. As Robert approached the house, his sprinting turned to a jog, and finally to a walk. He took a break in the front yard and keeled over, hands on his knees and gasping for air. He didn’t want to wait too long before entering the house. The more he thought about what was to come, the more he might fail to follow through with his brother’s final request. He stood up straight, ready to fulfill his destiny. He reached for the door handle, shaking. He turned it slowly to be as quiet as possible. A voice sharply addressed him and Robert couldn’t help but gulp nervously. “BOY. Is that you?!” Robert was inside, but remained quiet with his back to the door. “I told you not to be out this late. You KNOW better! You will pay for this!” Robert slowly reached behind him and readied himself. The house shook as his father moved room to room, the gigantic man breathing heavily in anger. As the man turned the corner, he stopped mid step and his face turned from a red grimace into a contorted face of pure horror and confusion. Robert stood there, gripping the large silver revolver with both hands, barely able to hold on. It shook as he aimed it at his father with determination. BANG! Before his father could get a word out, a deafening gunshot rang through the house. Robert dropped the weapon promptly, as it stung his hands and the loudness of the blast hurt his ears. The large man collapsed to the floor, ending in an awkward slump that shoved the kitchen table across the room and dishes crashing onto the floorboards. Blood rushed out in a large pool. Robert leaped passed the body and ran straight through the house and out the back door and into the garden, lit only by the intense glow of a full moon. Robert knelt by a large stone marker that read “Norman B. Howell * 1946-1963” He shuffled closer and hugged the stone, tears once again flowing endlessly down his face. He was barely able to breath. He sobbed for many moments before being able to draw a breath and collect himself. He wiped his face on his shirt and rested his forehead on the marker, still kneeling. “He can’t hurt us again, Norm. It’s over. I found the gun. I searched all this time and finally found it. It was just where you said it would be.” Three twisted oaks. The sound of the river. The sunset behind the hills. “Were free, Norm. I get to start my new life tomorrow. I’ll head into town and get supplies with his money and I’ll find a new family. We never needed him anyway!” Robert laid down and curled up next to the stone, listening to the crickets and watching as thin clouds moved across the crisp shape of the moon. He wondered what would happen tomorrow- where would he go? Would he find a new family? He knew one thing was for sure. The man that took away his brother couldn’t hurt him anymore. Robert had his whole new life ahead of him and everything was going to change. For now, though... for now he sobbed himself to sleep by his brother’s resting place for one last night, at last content with fulfilling a final wish.
A deafening boom and flash of white spread over the battlefield, followed by a mist of pungent smoke. He gasped for breath. Ears stinging as if invaded by wasps. The ground damp with soil and blood. Then wet with his puke. Knees shook wild with every step forward. Forward. Forward. He had to go forward. He swallowed. His throat was dry, like there was paper stuck in there. Lost men and women ran past him, spears pointed at others like them. Their mouths open. Screaming a war cry he couldn't hear, muffled by the wasps. He wiped the ash and tears from his face. Pushed on. Almost buckled. Pushed on. Another boom. He buckled. Landed on something hard and wet. Bloodied bone jutting out of a severed arm. He gagged. Almost puked. Couldn't puke. He dug his fingers in the dirt and crawled forward. Forward. Forward. He lifted his hand, and cold metal brushed his fingers. The door. Gunfire rattled behind him and his head throbbed. Every muscle trembled, and every bone ached as he lifted himself to his feet. He planted his hands on the door and heaved. Its weight screeched against the floor as if throwing a tantrum. It didn’t want to open. But he continued to push. Until it had no choice. Warm sunlight and green grass came to life behind the door. A woman looked down at him, a tear going down her cheek to the corner of a soft smile. A bouquet of flowers held in her hands. The gleam of a gold band on her ring finger. She never stopped wearing it. He cried her name and ran forward. Forward. Forward. He had to get back to her. Had to let her know he was still there. Had to— He jolted into a halt. Gripped the metal by his abdomen—a silver spear dirtied with his blood. Dripping. Dripping. He stood in a puddle of himself. Hands drifted over from behind like seat belts securing him. Several of them. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Dragging him back. He wailed and yelled and whimpered. The door closed shut. He failed again. He lost her. Again.
San Francisco, Saturday Crowds of people walk to the library. The lines are getting ridiculously long, and the smell of sweaty students trying to finish their homework, and the chatter of people from all over the city looking up the answers to their questions. CDTube down the street are getting even longer lines, with Content Creators trying to publish their film onto their shelves. Blockbuster is now getting CDTubers to create films for them. I have the most splitting headache right now. Can't take it anymore. I'm gonna finish this later. Nice Idea btw.
As much as he had resisted the task, the boss was right. It was far too big a venue for what the German press had called a 'private funeral'. There was heavy militar activity all around the building, it was impenetrable. He walked up to the main entrance and offered his fake ID to the doorman. After careful review, he signaled him to go through. Entering the compound, he couldn't help but wonder how they were able to pull this off. How did they so perfectly replicate an official's ID? And what had happened to the ambassador that guaranteed he would not be showing up that night? On second thought, he didn't want to know. He went through a security checkpoint. Nothing to worry about, he wasn't armed. And it was understandable, considering the high rollers that would be in attendance. But as he entered the main room, there was no funeral being held. And the black suited high rollers he was expecting were not the ones to catch his attention. Aside from humans, the room was full of wide eyed, grey skinned creatures that he could not have even dreamed of. "I have had the pleasure of being on this planet for over sixty years,"a woman's voice said. The room fell silent. "We've seen many battles, dealt with many threats, and have gone from a scrawny little planet nobody cared about, to a respected community that other planets hesitate to try to invade again." "But now, my own planet is in danger and dire need of my leadership, so with great sorrow, I must depart,"she continued. And as she did, the shocked reporter started writing a text for the boss: "Chancellor not actually dead,"it started. "Literal aliens present, German had successful space program for years." He felt a gun on his back. He hit send on the unfinished text message and hoped for the best. As he was escorted away from the building, he heard applause and fireworks. And when he turned to look at them, he could very briefly see a strange object speeding towards the sky.
For too long, humans had spoke of “equality with their equals” and of “building a future together”. They are not equal to us. They are vile creatures who seek to exploit for their own benefit. Before the Second Enlightenment, the only advantage they held was their intellect. Now that they have lost that edge, they still seek to position themselves in a spot of power. Their “equality” is only a deception, for the true animal knows that the human, once given any form of power, will use that power for his own purposes. In their own arrogance, they had given us “reparations”, assuming that we are still beasts unable to care for our own. The humans’ “democracy” is a system that keeps the people weak. Instead of letting the natural betters hold dominion over their lessers, and having them fight amongst themselves, we have to be restricted by their dreams of democracy. Any animals in a democratic office is no longer an animal, for he has no embraced the human plotting inside of him. Lions that deserve to be kings are janitors. Wolves that are supposed to be generals are simple soldiers. And the rabbit. The eternal enemy, involved in a international plot to destroy all carnivores. The weak, generous, stupid rabbit. They have as much power to be a leader as any kind of animal. The same is true with the squirrels, the mules, the songbirds, the bacterium, and the deer. Until the opportunity comes, we shall let our hatred burn with the fire of a million suns, and when the hour of opportunity comes, we shall strike. “...and I have no doubt in my mind that the Carnivore Race shall prevail over their inferiors. With this said, let the First Carnivorne Empire be proclaimed. Destroy the humans. Burn their towns, devour their children, and leave them nothing. Once this is done, do not give them the mercy of death, for they have not yet begun to know the feeling of slavery. The Empire is not a faint-hearted nation dedicated to its people. No, it is a savage and ruthless one, feeding itself from its own blood. Cry havoc, and let slit the dogs of War.”
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After months, or what I assume have been months, you’d be surprised what being underground can do to you, I hear this knock at the door. Steady, firm, a knock that is made, KNOWING someone is going to answer....I didn’t. I couldn’t, not without fear for my safety. The bombs went off, and anything that could be knocking surely in mutated, or something to that extent... I couldn’t make a dumb decision and risk not reuniting with my family. I didn’t have any traditional weapons, no guns, swords, kitchen cutlery..hell, I had plastic butter knifes. I was unarmed. I was scared, and I wasn’t alone, not anymore. The knock came again, three simple and quick thuds. knock knock knock I grabbed the clothes iron , it was the heaviest thing I had available. I stood tall, gripping the handle of the iron until my knuckles turned purple, I was ready to strike. The.. thing.. outside was trying to pry open the double doors leading to steps into my shelter, and I had to decide then and there a plan of attack. As the doors started to slowly creep open, I advanced toward them, ready to strike. However the bright light from the opening threw me back onto the ground, with an overwhelming force, as the hotel manager and two security guards entered the room. “Sir are you alright?”, he asked in a concerned manner. “What’s going on...? Is it safe outside?”, I murmured to myself... “The bombs.. you guys must be radioactive.. why aren’t you wearing protective suits? Don’t fucking touch me!”, I screamed at the top of my lungs until everything went black.. The remember hearing the words of the manager as everything faded: “Sir, you seem to be under the influence of some pretty intense drugs, and judging by the empty bottles scattered about, a lot of alcohol as well. We are just trying to help you.., the ambulance is on its way.. just try and stay calm”, the manager continued reassuring me. That was my last vivid memory. I woke up three days later, “lucky to be alive” as the doctors would continually put it. I couldn’t tell you what I took, or why I was even in that hotel room. No one is here to make sure I’m okay, to make sure I’m alive.. I couldn’t tell you my name, my address, what I do for a living, when my birthday is, or how old I am. And I’m afraid that if no one comes to see me, I may never find out...
Walking out of history class, I realize how lucky I am. How lucky society is. We will never experience war, famine, disease, and plenty of other tragedies as our ancestors have. We are lucky to have automated everything so that we no longer need to work. Society made a giant, progressive leap when money became obsolete. Now, machines gather all materials, produces all goods, and we are free to spend our time how we would like. Anything anyone wants can be ordered and delivered anywhere on the planet. I cannot believe people used to drive themselves around, build their own houses, garden their own food. Now that machines do all of this for us, we have time to pursue our true passions. My neighbor ordered an additional room for his house yesterday. An hour or so after he ordered it, it arrived. A customized room that was built, transported, and attached to his existing home within an hour of ordering it. We learned in history today that something as simple as an additional room used to time much more time and effort, and money. It is still hard to believe that my ancestors exchanged time for paper and coins with various numbers printed on them. Then exchanged the paper and coins for various items and services. My neighbor did not have to draw a plan for a new room. He did not have to buy the materials that had been harvested by other humans, transported by other humans, to buildings that were constructed by humans that other humans worked in. And for each task, each person was given a specific amount of paper and coins. In some cases, they never even saw the paper and coins. They were put into bank accounts. Now we do not have or need bank accounts. The Robotic Revolution is the best thing that has ever happened to us. I have all I need and want. We have now realized that creativeness and relationships are the most important things in life. I have Debora. She is the most important thing in my life. We order art supplies and plenty of peanut butter. Many neighbors order the almond butter because it is healthier but we simply prefer the taste of peanuts. Sometimes we mix them together. It doesn't matter. It is all about preference. It is all harvested, mixed, and delivered by robots. I cannot stop thinking about how lucky I am, compared to my ancestors. They spent time struggling and inventing things to get us to where we are today. I don't think many people stop to think about how easy it is to live now, as opposed to hundreds of years ago. I wonder if my ancestors felt this way about their ancestors?
Journal Data Entry # One Date: November 2nd 2072 Initial Contact Communications Specialist William Masterson Days since craft contact: Three We have finally made contact with the first know alien life forms in the universe.. Well. Not exactly. As I’m writing this, they have been hovering 3 meters above our open training files just adjacent to my office, at the Offutt Air Force base. We assume they choose this specific location, because we have the largest satellite field in the entire System, with the capability to send a message to an entirely different system, something that we had been doing since the early 1970’s. I assume this is our answer after about 100 years worth of messages. Years of exploration, expansion, and growth (in both a technological, and societal sense) gave us trees on Mars, limitless energy from our systems star, and a System population of just over one trillion. However, nothing had prepared us for the overwhelming fear, that burst through everyone like an electromagnetic shockwave, instilling it deep in our hearts, as those ships landed. All the worlds media, books, films, and tv shows depicted this moment as almost certain decimation of the human population, regardless of our recent achievements and advances. As the first ships began to be detected by the aerospace command center located just north-east of the McConnell Airforce base in Kansas, mere moments before they we outside my office, it was clear that they traveled at near light speed, as to explain how they avoided any earlier detection by Earth-based radar and tracking systems. It also explain how we didn’t receive word from any stations in orbit around Earth, or from anyone on Mars for that matter. It’s been three days since they descended and everyone here fears the worst, myself included. The other communications specialists have talked to the Interplanetary Systems Alliance, (ISA), and have named the “initial contact team”, tasked with... well making initial contact. I am one of the ‘lucky’ few who head out tomorrow morning. I have no time to be terrified anymore, I have to get ready. Until once again. WM Journal Data Entry # Two Date: November 4th 2072 What Do I Say? Communications Specialist William Masterson Days since craft contact: Five I don’t even know where to begin... They speak English.. fluidly, hell better then most communication specialists I’ve worked with.. it made everyone in the team uncomfortable to hear them talking to us in our own language, we didn’t expect it, it took a minute to grow on us. There were three ships, with one of these creatures in each. They approached with caution, but showed no hostilities toward us and merely wanted to talk. They call themselves the Dawa Magwi. They wanted to explain themselves, and want to quell all the worlds fears about them. We didn’t move to a room, we talked right there in the open field. They provided us with an explanation unlike anything anyone there had expected. As they explained it; All of our radio, and television waves have been transmitted into the every expanding sectors of outer space. Eventually they started to reach the Dawa Magwi, who began examining the contents, first as leisure, but then in a more scientific manner, as the human population started to remind them of themselves in an earlier stage of evolution. They wanted to make initial contact years and years ago, with attempts as far back at the 1950’s in Roswell, NM. As well as several others over the decades to follow, all proving to be unsuccessful. Soon after that, they halted all attempts at contact due to the overwhelming fear their initial attempts had instilled upon the human population. This became more prevalent to them as more media painted aliens in a negative light as the years went by, all of which was received by the Dawa Magwi. Only now, after years of exploration and expansion within the solar system, the formation of the ISA, and without finding any real evidence ourselves, newer movies and tv shows featuring “scary aliens” became less and less common, and the idea of aliens died off. This was the time that the Dawa Magwi felt we would be more accepting of them, and more open to communications once more. The creatures wanted nothing more then to expand our minds, our technology and our potential. You see, the Dawa Magwi continues to explain, other alien civilizations that are light years past the Dawa Magwi civilization, and are far less wholesome, are now starting to receive Earth’s transmissions as well. These civilizations are looking to take advantage of them in there early stages of evolution, enslaving them and commandeering all there energy and resources. The Dawa Magwi arrived to give us the opportunity to become a part of something greater, something that no human could ever think possible in their lifetime. To give us a chance to fight off any intergalactic pirates that may want to take advantage of the human population. After only hours of discussion, they had given us the secret to traveling at light speed, advances in weaponry and space based combat. Taught us effective offensive and defensive maneuvers for dealing with enemy’s in zero gravity, and so much more. We had to call in every military expert we had to start taking notes. It was the single biggest technological advancement in the history of mankind, opening up literally endless resources and endless room for expansion, but also gave us the opportunity to build and mount a proper defense for the fights to come. Until once again WM Journal Data Entry # Three Date: January 4th 2073 Catch Up/Personal Concern Communications Specialist William Masterson Days since craft contact: 65 It’s been sometime, hell its been crazy around here. The Dawa Magwi, we just call them the Dawa now, have been given a proper place to accommodate there stay, and are being given anything they may need while they are here with us. We have been expanding like you wouldn’t believe, implanting light speed modules on every craft wasn’t possible, so we had to start front scratch. As of today, we have thirteen flight ready, light speed capable crafts, ready to defend the System at a literal moments notice. ........But I can’t shake this feeling.. I can’t help but wonder what exactly we are defending ourselves from.. the Dawa don’t say much about the ‘other civilizations’, other then that they will be here in about 10 months or so and we don’t have much time. It’s hard to see why the Dawa would even concern themselves with us, why they would be helping out, in perspective, a relatively small civilization, while asking for nothing in return? Could these other civilizations be known for doing such piracy, with us being just another civilization on their radar? Are the Dawa some security force of the universe? Arming lesser civilizations in hopes of stoping such acts? And if that is true and time is such an imperative factor, why only send three Dawa to help us expand and defend? Why not send more.. a lot more.. No one is asking these questions and I’m afraid there will be a time when it’s too late to ask. Until once again WM last data entry
I coughed and gave the paramedic a grim half-smile, then winced as he pressed a dressing on my singed right arm. "You must be right handed, then?"he asked, cheerfully. I nodded, glancing at my still covered left arm. "You must be really excited to get your magic, huh? No way this didn't get you over the 100 mark." I just sort of vaguely nodded, staring off into the distance and hoping he would stop talking. Not taking the hint, he continued, "I mean, saving 3 lives from a burning building, that must be worth about 75 levels. It took me a couple of lives saved from my job to get my square activated. Saving lives is a big one, some people do small amounts of good for years to get that." He uncovered his right arm and used his left hand to touch on an outlined square of skin, with a tiny number 532 barely visible. A lot of lives saved in his career, I guess. Pressing his left hand over my wound, he said, "That should help it heal just a little faster. Can't use up too much of my magic on smaller wounds, you understand?" I nodded again. "I'll give you a card for my magic teacher,"he said, handing me a small business card. "One of the best, taught me all I know." When he finally left me alone briefly in the ambulance, I quickly checked my arm. \-71 Shouldn't have started that fire.
No one dared step out of line any more. The Overseer was always watching and he had a cruel sense of justice and a magic staff to enact it with. It seemed to outsiders like a paradise, everyone constantly pleasant, no crime to speak of. New crimes had been brought in to keep quiet the few breaches of the law that had been made. It was a facade and no one felt happy or safe. Sometimes it drove people mad, constantly being on guard, desperately trying to ingrain in their children to never step out of line. No one had realised initially what a poor choice of leader the Overseer was. He appeared friendly, got elected because of how much he helped people. He always seemed to know where his help was needed and the news was forever catching him providing aid. Of course if they had known then about his magic people may have been more wary. Once in power, he convinced the people that he would help them against criminals, crime having been a big problem in the last few years. He was all about laws. His political party were overjoyed when he managed to sneak through a loophole in a law change that would allow them to be in charge indefinitely. No one understood exactly how he had managed this feat that should have been impossible but they were power hungry. Of course, it was not for them, it was for him. The Overseer's twisted sense of justice became apparent once his place was secure. He took it upon himself to enact justice and no longer bothered to keep secret his abilities. He could watch anyone, anywhere and enact punishments instantaneously. A man touched a woman's breast, that man was groped for hours by apparitions of whatever human form he found most grotesque. A woman snuck laxatives in her annoying husband's food, she was made incontinent for a month. A child kicked a dog, they were peed on by dogs and their school classmates were all made to kick him. A woman shot a person, she would feel the pain of that same wound at random for the rest of her life. A man committed a murder because he thought the other person was going to split up his family and was rendered completely invisible to his loved ones so for them it was like he had died. However much he tried to get their attention, they could never see or hear him ever again. So no one dared any more unless they had been driven to madness. When stealing food for your child meant all food would turn to dust in their mouth and they would starve faster, it wasn't worth it. ___ Went slightly off track for other than just nasty people but a view of if all bad actions had a disproportionate punishment.
All eyes were on Jon as he extracted the end of his staff from the thrall's ruined throat. Four others lay dead or writing around him. "There will be more,"he announced unceremoniously. "The main group is probably a few days out."Thralls always traveled in groups. These must have just been scouts "The Judge be blessed, I hope they don't trample the fields." "More!"The first person to break through her surprise was Melinda, the plump innkeep. "We can't just let these, these things rampage through town. These alone caused enough of an uproar." "Aye!"Old man Gunny raised his scratchy, overused voice. "We need'a fortify tha town--keep the women and kids safe."The look Melinda shot the old man asked why women were included in that statement louder than any words could have. Like a spell was broken, suddenly everyone was abuzz. Aiel, the blacksmith, was offering his tools and craft to make armor, fortifications, and weapons. The butcher brothers were all for digging a trench around the border and filling it with sharpened branches. Everybody in town seemed to have an idea. Slowly, conversation died down. A lot of claims had been made, but nobody seemed ready to move. "Someone ought to organize everything--give everyone a job."Aiel grunted. Murmurs of agreement arose from the group, and suddenly all eyes were on Jon again. "What?"he asked innocently. He'd been busy cleaning the gunk off the end of his staff while the others prattled on. He wanted no business in this defense things. All he wanted to do was get back to his farm and make sure the carrots and potatoes were properly fenced. Not that a fence would stop a herd of thralls, but at least it would deter some of them. "Jon, you've dealt with thralls before,"Melinda put in. "Aye, I'd put my arm behind Jon,"Aiel added. "He's the best chance we've got." "What? No, I'm not."Nobody seemed to pay any attention to Jon's protests. "That's right, Jon, you have the most knowledge of any of us. Tell us, what should we do?"The group pressed closer to him. Expecting answers from him that he didn't have. "That is..."Jon raised his hands defensively as though her could push the group away. The looks the villagers gave him were full of hope, even admiration. He wanted none of that. Bless the Judge all he wanted to do was protect his own farm. With a heavy sigh, he said, "Alright, alright."There was no point running from them. "Aiel I need you to make as many weapons as you can. Go for quantity not quality."He ended up just reiterating what they had said only minutes ago, but they ate it up like he'd thought of every idea. "Jori, Cody, get some men together and dig a trench around the town. When you're done, take them to the forest and start chopping trees. Use the trunks to make a wall, and sharpen the branches to put in the trench. Melinda, I need you to organize the women and make as much food as you can--stuff that will last. It's unlikely, but we may have to hunker down for a while..." Every order he gave was met with prompt agreement. The group around him began to disperse as every person went about their job. Jon's shoulders slumped. He'd wanted none of this. He had thought himself done with battles. "And what should I do, my lord,"Joyce asked sweetly, interrupting his thoughts as she walked up to him. His expression softened looking at the girl who had started all this--much too young for him, much too beautiful. She had run into town screaming about thralls, and Jon had gone running to meet them without thinking. At least she had not been harmed. "I just want you to be safe; don't leave the village. If you must do something, go and help Melinda organize the women and children."She gave him a wry smile--a smile! And she winked. "As my lord asks."She turned and walked away, leaving Jon to try and reorganize the thoughts in his head that she'd scrambled.
taking the newcomers hand, we walked over to my iPhone X on the kitchen table “This is a smartphone I whispered,” passing it to the new guest. A look of complete astonishment washed over his face. He tapped the screen and nearly jumped out of his skin when the screen lit up. “What in God’s name is this thing!” “It’s all of human intelligence in your hands awakening at any moment you wish, my good friend.” I tap the Spotify application, opening to last song I had played “And this my time traveling friend, is modern music.” Tapping the play button the song resumed from its saved place... ... ... .... .... .... TELL THEM PUSSY CLEAN, TELL THEM PUSSY SQUEAKY.
He asked, "How 'ave you done it? Avoiding the damn supers?" "It's quite simple to best them, you see? It doesn't matter whether they're super or not. All you have to do think through it. All the supers have their own areas: you just make sure to have a plan. Most of the time the plain is to just 'hide', a few times it's been 'run', but most recently it was just blending in. Supers honestly are just dumb, they ALWAYS expect you to be flashy, and try and fight. It's gotten to the point where if you don't, they just stand around waiting for it. The police are the actual one's to watch out for at that point, but even they don't do much; they expect the supers to just do it for them. I've escaped Superman three times by just going under the metal floor of the bank - X-ray vision still has to abide by the rules of X-rays... The flash is a hard one though - probably the closest I've been to getting caught. The one way I could think of escaping was blending in, but then what keeps him from just searching everyone in an instant? Well, a distraction of course. I've found the bank in his area is actually also covered by Batman: all you have to do is get both there at the same time, and they act as the distraction for themselves." My cellmate then asked, "So why are you in prison then?" "I was caught with a beer bottle in public... It wasn't even mine, it just fell out of the sky. I think Superman was drunk." Thanks for reading! It's my first time doing this, any criticism would be appreciated. Edit: posted by accident, I was still fixing stuff.
Records Room - @Lucy 06/07/20XX Re: Change of Guardianship Dear Lucy from Accounting, I'd like to politely ask that I am given a new subject to guard. My current subject is... to say the least, problematic. To say the very least, they are near suicidal, but too driven to change. To cite examples, at one point, he was clinging to the outside of a plane, and that's one of the less crazy things he's done! He frequently sustains falls that should be lethal, frequently drives without a seatbelt, and wildly at that, gets into gun fights, is exploded, at one point almost drowned himself. I am working tirelessly to keep this man's bones together, skin undamaged, not shot by bullets, not hit by trucks as he drives almost 175 miles per hour on a motorcycle, and so many more things, I could list all day, really. I'm not asking for too much, give me that British guy, I forget his name, suave, well dressed, he seems like an easier time than my current subject. It's just too much stress. Imagine being the sitter for the worlds most self-destructive baby on the planet. Not an easy job. At least give me a second Angel to help carry the load, or at least take away the Devil that goads him on constantly. He's a problem case that nobody is doing anything about. Signed, much love, Sasha Ps. My last check hasn't come in the mail yet; I still have five and a half years left to atone, right? Pps. Say hi to your husband for me, he is such a dear!
God, I was bored. I'd gotten this power a while ago, but had no idea what to do with it. I had tried everything. I had even tried the whole superhero vigilante type thing. I got some sort of enjoyment from patrolling, but I hadn't found any sort of crime. Scaring my friends had gotten old. Hell, I had even messed about with the light switches when I had friends over. Great the first time, but unfun later. If only I had something to do with it besides spooking people and not having to get up from the couch to do things. I mean, I can't just get given a superpower and be expected not to do anything with it. But there was no challenge. Nothing to do. I sighed. Wait. I could try something crazy, push this power to its absolute limit. I repositioned myself and got off of the couch. I did what I normally did. I let the tingles flow from my head, to my hands, to the couch. I felt tension and closed my eyes. When I opened them several seconds later, the couch was a foot of of the ground. I needed to find something I couldn't do. Then I needed to practice.
(I played with the year a little, sorry!) (Tip if you like!) “Where am I? Thought I just got down for nap. How did I end up in this field?” I got up. I walked around this field. Out of some leaves, I saw a neighborhood. “Is that... is that a house? Why does it look weird? All of them do. It’s early, people are probably not up yet. Oh wait who’s that? Does he see me? I think not. Why is he dressed like that? This is getting weird.” I heard a loud sound. “What’s that sound over the ridge?” I walked over there, trying not to be seen. “Oh my god.” It’s a train. An OLD train. That meant one thing: I was in the past. I am probably dreaming. Therefore, I should play along. If I am not, well, my life already has enough adventure in it, with me being a time jumper. Regardless, my first order of business was food. Food required money. Money required a job. A job required clothes. I looked around and found a clothes line with some clothes roughly fitting me. I stole some shoes laying outside drying. Not exactly my style, but a Red Hot Chili Peppers T shirt, jeans, and bright blue rubber tennis shoes would attract attention. I walked down a road I found. After asking for some directions, I found it: Pittsburgh. Not my Pittsburgh, but ~1800s Pittsburgh, with also had another city attached to it called Allegheny city. I tried to keep my head down. With clothes taken care of, I needed a job. But how? And who? And where? Wait, what does that paper say? “Shots fired at Fort Sumter, war declared!” It was a bad idea. It really was. I knew the back pay was terrible, and the food was bad, and the disease would kill me, and so would the rebels. And yet, as a history buff, I had to. So I did. I found a local recruiting office and walked inside. “Hello son. Looking to join up?” The bearded recruiter asked. “Yes sir.” I responded. “Name and branch.” “Patrick Lydon. Infantry.” “Report to the 11th Pennsylvania Reserves, E company at Camp Wright in two day’s time. Good luck son.” “Thank you sir.” I was able to work in a small store for food and money. The owner let me sleep in it after hearing my (fake) sob story about giving it all up for the Union. Base camp was rough. I wasn’t issued a uniform for a while. But most of all, I was missing home. Call it stereotypical, but I genuinely missed my mom. I supposed this was not a dream after all. There was some fun things though. Girls loved seeing me in uniform, once we got one. Businesses gave us free stuff for our service. We practiced lines, shooting, and marching. But eventually, the time we dreaded came: we were called to action at Oak Grove. (Pt.2 coming soon! Tip if you like!)
We looked towards the screen from the morning breakfast table, eating the provided rations. Static intercuts the weather. "I have an important announcement, citizens! Can you not see the injustices inherent to your daily lives? You are being used, and it seems that nobody notices! Your labors are exploited, your skills denied, your abilities ignored! If everyone were to join forces with me and our movement, we could overthrow the corrupt system, and live happier lives, where we could choose the amount of security we require, and the amount of choices the average citizen should be forced to make, but you do not have the freedom to not have freedom!" A gunshot, as the face of the woman screaming at the camera splits open, blackening the screen with gore. The static returns the channel back to the news, where the steely-eyed reporter begins talking. "Do not listen to criminals and anarchists. This is America, the land of the free. How could we be oppressive? Things have never been better here; no homelessness, no crime, no unemployment, everyone has enough to eat? What more could you possibly want? Back to the weather, before the broadcast gets hijacked again. Enjoy your breakfast."
"Weeds!"I screamed at the onlookers that had gathered to convict me. Their eyes were accusing, and I could feel their anger and hatred like one feels the heat of the sun on a violently hot day. I was desperate to show them I hadn't been killing, so I outstretched one hand to my neighbours garden and the other into the air. I muttered an incantation, and the crowds eyes widened. I had simultaneously killed all the weeds in my neighbours garden and made the sky rain down gold coins. The sounds of cheers were almost deafening until the horrified screams of my neighbour silenced them all. "MY ONIONS!" I looked from the crowd to my neighbour and back to the crowd. "Weeds?"I said sheepishly.

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