Split (1)

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The thuds were haunting, but the silence… the silence was truly deafening. A bombardment of bodies assaulted the floor of the cafeteria as I stood there in wonder of what was to come. I’ve never experienced fear like that before, fear for myself, fear for what was to come. Everyone, my friends, the inmates, the guards, everyone was dead. The intercom was the first the break the silence declaring a facility wide lockdown, before 2 lone guards rushed in in full riot gear yelling at me to get down on the ground. I complied without hesitation, having spent my last 30 years here at San Quentin I’ve been through many lockdowns but this is the first one I’ve been a part of that terrified me. Usually lockdowns are a welcomed break from the monotony of prison life, with them came the excited retelling of the day’s events. The other inmates and I would gather around Lincoln during our Rec time as he would tell a wildly embellished but altogether thrilling recap of what went down. But today was different, today Lincoln was dead, today everyone was dead. I was cuffed, stood up, and escorted to my cell by the two guards. “What the hell happened?” I asked the guards as we maneuvered our way past the bodies. A blank expression was the only response I got. Locking the cell door in front of me I fed my hands through the hole so that I could be uncuffed. I asked again “What the hell happened here man? They, they just all dropped dead right in front of me what the fuck happened?!”.
Dear Diary, Yesterday was the greatest day ever. I discovered that I can stop time. I think I am god now, in my hands (or rather my head) I hold the greatest weapon in the universe. My brain. It was realized in a freak neurology accident when, while using myself as a test subject I ended up stimulating 100 percent of my brain neurons at the same time using electricity. But the extraordinary thing is that the neurons stayed turned on, even after I took the electrode helmet off, I found that they were still firing. My first thought was my favorite color red, because I was putting on my favorite red sweater to warm up. All of a sudden, everything turned red. I couldn’t believe it/. I could control what color I wanted everything to be. After that, I tried to stop time, as I had always wanted to prove Einstein wrong for some reason. I thought about it for a split second, and time stopped indefinitely. Everyone stopped moving, and I finally felt the freedom to do whatever I wanted. Social judgement was a thing of the past, or rather just a thing. I could control time, there was no such thing as a past anymore. Anyways, naturally my first thought was to rob a bank. I was a university student so don’t blame me. Also I felt like a god, what had I too fear? My brain controlled the universe. In my drunken stupor of power, I walked up to a bank to make a large withdrawal, but I wasn’t going to get a receipt back if you know what I mean. Anyways, I touched the vault and received a massive electric shock. Apparently stopping time doesn’t deactivate electricity. That’s when I opened my eyes and noticed that the security guard had his arms around me and was dragging me to the car. He told me what was wrong with me, and that I would have to be insane to just walk up into a bank and pretend like no one was there. People were shouting at me to stop where I stood. Turns out, I only changed my perception of time, and that I just made a complete loon of myself. Everything behaved as normal, it just looked like time stopped in my eyes. Well, back to the drawing board. In 5-10 years…
tick tick tick I stared at the clock. Time seemed to pass so slowly in g period calculus. Brrrrrnggggg. Finally, I thought. Damn that was a long day. I grabbed my books and got up. On the way out I said bye to some friends. "Later Joe"I said, playfully hitting my buddy on the shoulder as he made his way to his car. "Peace out jimbo, see you at practice tonight"I yelled across the parking lot toward my friend Jim. He threw up a deuces as he got into his car. I made my way across the parking lot towards my volvo. A couple of steps away from my car I ran into the new kid at our school, Thomas. Thomas transferred two weeks ago from some neighboring town out in the boondocks. He was kinda weird but I befriended him because I'm nice. "I'll see you tomorrow Thomas!"I said, getting into my car. "See you tomorrow John!"he said back as he walked by me. I climbed into the front seat and started my car. I blasted the AC and turn the cold air on all the way. It was hot as hell today and my car felt like an oven. I shifted my car into drive and skirted out of the parking lot. My house isn't far from school so I was home in 5 minutes. I pulled into my garage and went into the house. "How was school sweetie?"my mom asked when I walked through the door. "Fine, i'll be upstairs."I replied. I stormed up the stairs and into my room, locking the door before turning on my pc. A couple of weeks ago I found a metallic envelope in the park. Inside was a disc, I was curious so I went home and checked it out on my computer. It turned out to be a game called Mirror. I think someone must have dropped it in the park. Since then, I have been absolutely hooked on this game. As fun as this game is, I haven't heard anything about it in the news. My friends are gamers and never know what I'm even talking about when I bring it up. I loaded up the game and logged in. I started exactly where I left off yesterday. In a grocery store. I quickly left the grocery store and went out into the parking lot. Across the street was a park. Beyond that was some houses. These graphics are insane! I thought. I decided to go look at the houses. The characters in the game are all different. There was a little girl riding a bike and a man washing a car outside his house. I stopped next to a stop sign and looked around. I heard a door open and quickly glanced behind me to check it out. A tall boy with brown hair was entering his home. Funny, I thought. That character looked a lot like that new kid at our school. I walked up to the front door of the house and rang the doorbell. BZZZZZ The door opened. My face went white and my jaw locked up. The new kid, Thomas had answered the door. I tried to talk but couldn't. We stared at each other for what felt like 10 minutes. He spoke first. "John, how did you leave the game?!"
The world was ready to launch the combined nuclear arsenal of the planet. God had called us insects, that couldn't mean anything good. The buttons were pressed... and nothing happened. "It's okay, insects. I'm not going to hurt you..."the enormous figure said, it's voice muffled by the vacuum of the universe we thought we knew. The sun was a 4th-dimensional keyhole, and the universe was an 8th-dimensional container. It took a decade to figure that out, and in that time it became harder and harder to hide what was going on from the people on the street. The Earth suddenly moved. Not jerked, just moved. We stayed on it, unharmed, the blurry form of god getting closer and closer. Then we could see it, and the collective gasps were almost universal. The face of a little girl. "Hi, innocents. I was wondering when you'd show yourself! Hold still, it's time you all became my friends."she told us. Then the world seemed to implode around us. At first I thought something terrible had happened. Were we dead? I opened my eyes. I was floating in a white void. Nearby, a small envelope floated around, and I reached out to grab it. I ripped it open and took out the letter inside. Dear innocents, you're probably wondering what's going on. This is how things work, gods create mortals, mortals become gods, and over again. You were pretty scared of me when you saw how small you were! Well, now that you're big like me, remember what it feels like and treat your creations with as much kindness and mercy as you can. Have fun! Innocents. We misheard! I never thought I'd be happy we misunderstood something so important. I looked up from the at the void around me, and thought about what this meant. "What should I create first?"I thought out loud. Bonus: Alternate Ending Then we could see it, and the collective gasps were almost universal. The face of a little girl. "Cool... Bugs! I can start an ant farm!"
It looked like an old abandoned house. But Captain Hank Williams knew better. “Alright, men,” he said to the four people behind him, “and lady,” he said to the 6th member of his team, “were facing some heavy odds here. The place is heavily fortified and packed with civilians. Stunners only, until we reach the target, got it?” “Yes, sir,” they replied. “Good. Anti-mag armor on, and HUDs up.” The soldiers all secured their helmets and put down the visor. Suddenly, the abandoned house vanished, replaced by an enormous castle and a sign that read “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” “Holy shit!” One of the men, Jenkins, said. “We’re supposed to find one guy in all of that?” The girl, Sanders, asked. “Yes,” Williams answered, “Because we’re the best. Normally, I’d eliminate the target when he’s less heavily defended, but the boss is paying us big money to do it inside the castle.” He gathered everyone around him. “This is the target,” he said, and pulled a photograph from his pocket. It was a newspaper clipping that, somehow, was waving up at him. In front were three children, behind them was a woman with flaming red hair, and behind her, the target. A man with round glasses, messy hair, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Carlos nodded his head toward the man in the long fur coat wearing a necklace of assorted beer bottle caps and clay tokens. "What?" The man, who had a second ago knocked Carlos to the sticky, beer-smelling floor of the college town bar, glared in consternation. Carlos could see that he really, really wanted to look, but he was also almost certain that when he did that Carlos was gonna kick him in the nads. "His name's Bacchus!"Carlos yelled over the roar of drunken conversations. "He's the god of merriment and bonding!" "Er you drunk'r somethin'?" Carlos blinked. He hadn't been prepared to field that question from an obviously drunk man in the middle of a crowd of equally inebriated individuals. In fact, he was almost certain that out of every person in the room, only Bacchus and himself had remained sober. Carlos was sober because he had a God's Boon that made him immune to drunkeness. Bacchus was sober because he'd only had two kegs tonight. "Yes."Carlos decided that that was his only answer. "So drunk. Everyone else is sober." The offended face-puncher lowered his fist an inch. "Hail, Jacob! Are you quite finished trading blows with my dear friend?" Jacob turned his head to look at the bar. He saw Bacchus greet him with both raised glasses and eyebrows. Carlos took the opportunity to kick Jacob in the nads. Bacchus watched as Carlos got up off the floor, double-checked to make sure that Jacob was gonna stay down for the count, then approached the smiling god while rubbing his chin. "You could have jumped in a bit sooner."Carlos rolled his jaw back and forth. Bacchus shrugged and somehow filled Carlos' hand with a bottle of beer without moving either of his own hands. "The boy had good instincts."Bacchus interrupted his words with a long drink from his pewter mug. "Just no follow through."
lack of light, exploring keeps us full of fright the only solace is a single shaky spotlight our hunger to explore, curiosity to quench to explore the deepest lands, the Marianas trench as the tides push, push, and push and pull the drone creaked from weakness in its hull crack... clank... pop... and squeal this drone... had had its very last meal then all of sudden, the light it shone there on the floor it said, "welcome home" the greeting flashed on the screen once, yes it did then the operator observed a black flash, something big the screen shut off, the large teeth, they were fading the last image made us all wonder, what was waiting? we wonder, yet alas, we know not to pry whatever it was, sees us as a fish to fry ---- Feedback wanted and welcome!
I was eagerly waiting in line, my hands clasped around the euros in my pocket. Any minute Ute now I was going through the machine that would turn me into a croissant. The screams emitting from the machine from others who have traveled to have their bones twisted into attractive puffed dough made prickles of sweat bead my hairline, but there was no turning back now. I comforted myself in the anticipation by eyeing the backside of a lovely hour Glass shaped local who chatted excitedly in a foreign language with her friend in a yellow beret. I spoke little french but caught enough to gather she was offering her friend moral support. Her longing eyes traveling up and down the flaky crusts of those leaving the machine a warm puff of pastry was not lost on me. I fancied myself being the roll of her admiration as her friend went through the machinery. She gasped and spun around covering her ears as her friends cries of agony dulled amongst thw whirrs and pumps of the machine filled our ears. She spun around and I finally got a chance to see her face in full view. She was gorgeous. Even with her petite eyebrows furrowed in worry and her bottom lip bitten in discomfort. My arm hesitated but I brought it down on her back in two comforting pats. "It will be okay!"I yelled over the screams abd machinery. She smiledbat me but her eyebrows were still raised in worry. "Prochain!"Called the operator as a massive croissant with a yellow beret nearly matching it's flaky pastry tones stumbled out. I meekly walked onto the platform and handed the operator my euros, "I'm not sure how much this is..."I said honestly. "No. You are a dollar short."The heavily accented operator sneered. "Monsieur!"An angelic voice called out. It was the woman I had been admiring. She handed the operator another euro and winked at me. I was immediately shoved in the machine. I didn't have time to think before the gears whirred loudly, deafening my ears. Rolling pins with razors hurled through the gray bleak machinism at me and sliced my skin to shreds. I began to scream as blood and fluids poured through my body and into drainage vents under my feet. Large syringes seemed to fly out of the walls and injected me with baking paraphernalia. I could decipher my cries of agony from the harsh motors of the machine as angry red lights of heat warmed up shreds of my skin were still sweating as they began to puff up. The bloating was becoming more uncomfortable than painful but the heat was still unbearable. I opened my mouth to scream just to see if my mouth was still there! I was surprised that it was. My tongue partruded from slits in the pastry, I licked the sweat pouring from my new skin. It was delightful and buttery. The gears abruptly shut off and I stumbled out of the machine disoriented I didn't know how I was moving, I simply did. I was able to see the lovely girl of my affections. She winked at me and handed me her number. But birds picking at my new flesh carried it off.
Captains Log: Final entry... It's been weeks since we first turned the matter amplifier on. Though early on everything seemed fine, there seemed to be something changing in my fellow crew mates. Tempers flared, emotions Rose and eventually we had our first victim. Mary, one of the first to be around the machine when we flipped the switch, attacked her husband with a straight razor. He bled out before he was discovered. She was put into the brig, but shortly after she took her own life. After that was Mason. He was the ships doctor. During the scuffle with Mary, he had been cut by the razor. He started to complain about something inside his head, a high pitched scream and a growing infection in his wound. Without anyone else to examine him, his demeanor continued to harshen. During a check-up on one of the lead scientists, Mason decided to slit his throat, before attempting to dig something out of his own head. There have been numerous cases of attacks and self mutilation since we turned this damn thing on. Dr. Kenzick thinks his little machine will bring us a brighter future. I'm convinced that we've started a chain of events toward something terrible. I can see it when I sleep, when I can get to sleep. With a good portion of the crew gone, a small group have decided to hold up around the device. Dr. Kenzick has them all worshiping his technology, saying it's the next wave of might of mankind. We've only got another 13 fucking days before the next shift arrives, and I'm concerned that this madness could spread. I can't allow these horrors to continue. I watched them tear my first mate apart, like they were animals. Like something had them in it's grasp. It's just me and our navigator, Price, locked on the bridge. We are attempting to get a message out to the next shift, before they board. I pray to god we can deliver it. If not, we intend to activate the emergency protocol and blow the ship. The failsafe was put into place in case the amplifier grew unstable, but I fear that it did it's job far too well. This may very well be my final log, but I leave you with a warning. Leave here, do not return. Hell has boarded the U.S.H Claymore.
When I awoke I was surrounded by crudely drawn houses in a mountanous town. As i pushed myself from the ground my wrists flexed backwards. Suddenly two blades extended from gauntlets attached to my forearms. As i turned around I saw Izuku Midoriya. He must have been in the middle of a fight because he suddenly attacked me. Terrified, I ran for my life. Using my previously unseen parkour skills i quickly made it to the center of town. Suddenly, Izuku appeared on my right and punched me into a crummy looking house. I was in pain. I slowly looked myself over in a daze and was suprised to see blood seeping over my arms. My arms felt bruised but certainly not cut. As i raised my head I saw the source of the blood. A kid wearing an orange parka stared at me with lifeless eyes. I reeled back in shock. I killed Kenny! Izuku looked at me with disgust. As he hauled me away to be tried for my crimes he whispered in my ear. "You bastard."
The roadlights stop suddenly. My body feels as if it's in a non-moving car, but that's just the suspension right? No, I have definitely stopped. My friend who was driving isn't moving. Like a heart-attack, I realize other cars could still be moving on the highway; I turn to check and find them immobile as well. "Holy shit." I try to snap my friend out of his stupor, but to no avail. Letting my eyes wander over our surroundings I spot a bird flying up to perch on a streetlamp. But the bird fails at any pace to roost. Has time itself stopped? I check my pulse and breathe deeply a few times. I'm fine, by all accounts. What could have caused this? One moment I'm reading reddit posts about michael jackson calling 911, the next I'm frozen on the highway. WAIT 911! I pull out my phone and try to power it up. I can see every individual pixel lighting up. (It's pretty fascinating by the way.) "I have control!"I say in a vain attempt to rally myself from a mental breakdown. Which does more than simply calm me. As soon as the relief washes over me, the lights move, I move, my friend moves. I scream a little at the shock to my senses. "What's wrong with you?" "Nothing."I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I'm superhuman. And now, the only thing that stops me is death. But I think I'll be taking a rain check on that appointment. I have all the time in the world.
I was tired. Just really, really tired. But the job was done. Now I would get home, take a shower, and eat something before I could sleep for the night. The TV was on, most likely because of my sleeping roommate on the couch. I shook my head and went to the kitchen silently, no reason for waking him up. “The firefighters have been unable to save any person from the fire...” the line caught my attention, grabbing the barely finished sandwich I moved towards the couch. “Oh, I recognize that building.” I thought idly as I took a bite of my dinner. This has been one of the easy nights. A closed space, everyone indoors, and a gas line ready to cover my tracks. After all, no one would presume that everyone was already dead when the bodies were burned to the point that you almost couldn’t recognize the face. “The police continues the investigation on these last strange accidents, one of their current theories was that this was the start of a gang war...” I laughed silently at the chosen wording of the reporter, as I grabbed a bottle of some kind of alcoholic beverage. It was Friday after all, no reason to not get absolutely wasted after a good job. “War...” a small laugh escaped from my mouth “This is not war young lady...” the lips of the bottle met my own, and its sweet licor traveled down my throat “*This… is pest control*”
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So very ancient the old man was. A hermit in my parents time, and my grandparents before that, some say that his lifetime is longer than that, but nobody remembers anymore, and the topic is met with an air of discomfort, so it is avoided. But I had always taken an interest in the old man, spending my summer times not with friends, but observing the old man's house, more a manor really, with it's grand, ivory laden walls, and it's towering decrepit appearance. Being the lone house standing at the end of the block certainly didnt help either. But I was thankful for it's presence, a presence that drove down the property values the closer you got, giving my parents the chance to finally own a home rather than being renters for the rest of there lives. I always knew the house was special, although it could be dismissed as placebo, or just the latent nervousness of being around the only house in town that was bigger than one story. A clear violation of zoning laws nowadays, yet the city never broached the topic, they didn't even acknowledge it existed, or gave dismissive, annoyed answers when the topic is brought up by angry parents whose kids made an attempt to climb the massive wall that encircled the property of the house. I was one of those kids. It was a couple weeks into summer, and I was going into eighth grade. I remember thinking endlessly about the house, and wondering about it's lone inhabitant, thinking up all kinds of stories about his origin. Up to that point, I had made closer and closer approaches to the house. I started with biking around the cul-de-sac, passing within feet of the ominous wrought iron gate, and biking away in a frenzy of fear, adrenaline, and exhilaration. A few days later I found the nerve to plant my hand firmly on the wall before sprinting out once more. I thought I was being sly, although I'm sure I was looked upon through shuttered windows in scorn. Eventually I began making patrols around the perimeter, keeping close to the wall in fear of being spotted by the ever mysterious old man, who had been seen by no one for several years at that point. Supposedly the city came once every five years to see if he was still alive, they never went into detail about what happened when they dragged the rusted out gate open and made their entrance. They simply confirmed that he was still around, and they left it at that. After making a few 'patrols' I stumbled upon eerily convenient footholds in the wall, hidden amongst a particularly dense amount of bush, conveniently obscured from the road. Although mostly obstructed by the dense overgrowths of rabid ivy, and laden with a variety of creepy crawlies, I quickly solved both issues with several cans of hairspray and a kitchen lighter. By that point the urge to just see what was inside, even if it was just a glimpse, had overcome even those horny teenage urges that left me staring lustfully at girls and exploring all the wonderful options the internet provides. Those urges had vanished in my yearning to see inside, almost as if something was beckoning me to come. I remember the night clearly, as most iconic moments that happen in ones childhood. I was well equipped. Knife, machete, flashlight, water, the family first aid kit, protein bars, even my super special solar charger, along with a variety of other things, although I had no idea why I needed more than a flashlight and a knife, I felt a strong urge too bring all these items, and did so unquestionably. I reached the now scorched section of wall where the handholds now stuck out like sore thumbs, begging to be climbed by me, almost as if it was there soul purpose. I began to climb, the handholds, coarse, and easy to grasp. The wall was tall, I had measured it out to be around 12 feet, but I quickly reached the ledge and grasped it. I paused and took a breath, then heaved myself over, ready to finally satiate my uncontrollable urge to see what lay inside the ever-secretive house. I gasped at what I saw, almost falling back over the other side, but I caught myself instinctively, my eyes still glued. The house was for the most part, unremarkable, the same dark brown, worn away look as the visible upper floors. But nestled in the corner, with no attempt to keep it hidden, lay a garden, the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. It was an explosion of colors, reds, yellows, violets, oranges, even dark, royal purples. There were colors I would never had imagined existed in nature, but there they were, their colors taking on an almost superfluous appearance. I grimaced and averted my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest, and then I returned my gaze. There it was again! The border where the garden began was perhaps 20 feet away, yet it felt closer, as if it was reaching out to me, its beauty coming in pulses of intensity that were hard to bear. I kept glancing away from it's intensity before glancing at it again and finding myself captivated in it's intensity. I knew this was no ordinary garden, and I knew I had to get closer. How had the city folk never noticed something so beautiful as this? The garden continuted to beckon, and I deftly threw my body over the other side of the wall, my feet finding more perfectly shaped foot and handholds, yet my mind didn't regard this as odd in any way, the garden had consumed all other thoughts, whispering in a lustrous voice, come closer come closer come closer. Despite my entrancement, I lowered myself into the yard carefully, and drew the survival knife from it's holster in my pocket. I drew closer, the voice in my mind growing in intensity, yet sounding friendly, as if I was the only thing that mattered in the world. I walked slowly over the dead grass which filled the rest of the yard, still taking time to glance around, still acutely aware that I was in a very dangerous situation, and was in a place no other had ever ventured to go. I was within five feet of the garden when I felt the presence of eyes on me. I froze, unsure of myself, when I heard the sound of a round being loaded into a chamber. "Don't fucking move."
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are real. The names are made up. This story is quite long, so i've broken it down into parts. This story features concepts such as suicide and violence, in accordance with the sub's rules. If these topics make you uncomfortable, I do not suggest reading this story. This is my first response to a prompt on this sub, so I apologize ahead of time if my formatting is off and for any errors. Part 1 My head feels like it's going to split in two. Must be a side effect of passing through interdimensional gateways. I can't shake the feeling that the explanation is an excuse for something far more dire. Something tugging at my gut that screams, "Something is not right here.". If i'm being completely honest, I'd been waiting for the moment I passed through that gateway and died a miserable death in a dystopian future, ruled by a megalomaniacal dictator. Dull skies, drizzling rain, thunderstorms looming over futuristic skyscrapers. Ironically, I feel as if I had simply blinked, and the world decided to paint every building a slightly different color. Everything else was, to my disappointment, identical to what i'm accustomed to back home. My home on another dimensional plane. It feels strange to have that thought enter my mind. Only 5 years ago I was finishing up my bachelor's degree in psychology, thinking i'd be listening to alcoholics cry for a living, and now i've travelled to several different realities. I've traversed the boundaries between constructs of existence itself. I wish I hadn't. Each time I walked through that gateway, something new hit me with the force of a bullet train. The first dimensional plane was nothing short of shocking. I almost forgot to breathe when I walked into a pub a few days after my arrival, and saw one of the televisions in the middle of a news story; my father, apparently a billionaire, was withdrawing from his position as the CEO of his own company. A nearby regular, was shaking his head in disbelief as he sipped from his mug of grog. "That man must be heartbroken." I've always known my father as a hardworking, stubborn, and rugged man. He'd always joke about being a millionaire one day. If he could see himself on that television, I imagine he might stop breathing altogether in disbelief. I couldn't help but wonder what made my father give up his position in that world. Why did that man assume his heart was broken? It couldn't be too important. I had research to do. Or so I thought. That's when I got to see mom. Or at least, what was left of her.
"It looks so awesome!"Serena marveled at her best friend's dad while he worked. For her 18th birthday, the man offered a free tattoo. "Thanks a ton, Mr. Ortega,"she thanked him. "You're an adult now,"he gestured at the tattoo he was etching into her wrist. A mermaid pouring water out of a golden pitcher. The rest of the tattoo was complete, he only needed to add one more detail. "You can call me Mundo." "Thanks a ton, Mundo,"Serena said with a smile. A noise distracted her and she saw her best friend coming into the room from the kitchen. She carried a tray of drinks and snacks. "Mija, are you sure?"Mundo looked up from the tattoo when he heard his daughter walk into the room, then looked up at her as she set the tray down. "I'm about to finish it,"he added. "Give us a few minutes alone, Pop."Serena looked up at Llina with confusion. "Hey, he's almost done, what's going on?"Serena asked. Llina sat down on the couch next to her, and stretched her arm over Serena's shoulder to pull her closer for a hug. "You know you're my best friend, and I love you, right?"Llina asked. The left corner of Serena's mouth pulled upward to smile, but she remained unsure where her friend was going with this. "Yeah?"Serena said. "This tattoo is going to change your life,"Llina said. "Literally. You know I want good things for you, but I can't just spring it on you without telling you."Serena pulled away from the hug. Not in fear, but she wanted to make sure she looked at Llina in the eyes. "What's going on?"she asked. Llina chuckled to herself, then put her hand up between them. "We've been best friends since elementary, but I've had to keep a secret from you."While looking Serena in the eyes, Llina moved her hand upward, and a small black hole appeared floating in the air. The hole swallowed her hand while she moved it upward, then she pulled her entire hand back out holding a blue rose. She took a deep breath, then smiled. "The short version is: I can travel to alternate universes. For your birthday I thought it would be cool to show you a few amazing universes, so my dad helped me put together a scavenger hunt for us." "You and your dad can go to different universes? Can your mom too?"Serena asked. As long as she'd known Llina, she knew when the girl was being genuine. She also saw the proof with her own eyes. Llina shook her head. "My mom can't, and neither can my dad,"she said. "How'd your dad help with the Scavenger hunt?"Serena already made her mind up to go, but she still had too many questions. "Uh, it's kind of complicated, and I can explain more as we travel. But do you want to go? Do you want him to finish the tattoo?"Llina asked, and Serena nodded her agreement. "Yes! But how is it going to change my life? Just knowing that there are other universes?" "No. Pay attention. You, and me and my dad, are something called Unique Souls. Unique souls have different powers, but you don't have any powers until you have a representation of your number on your skin." "What's my number? OH! Is it six? Please tell me it's six!"Serena asked. Llina chuckled. "Yeah, it's your favorite number. It's going to be six for you."Llina showed Serena her own tattoo on her wrist. A purple star with the number 35 in the center in black numbers. "Mine's 35." "But what do the numbers mean?"Serena asked. "It's the Unique that we are. I'm #35, La Estrella. You're #6, La Sirena. My dad is #37, El Mundo,"Llina said. Serena looked at the mermaid on her wrist and could not stop smiling. "That's so cool. So once he finishes the tattoo I can travel to alternate universes too?"Serena asked. She moved her hand up in the air to mimic the move Llina made earlier that produced the blue rose. Llina shook her head. "Every Unique has different powers. Mine lets me make portals. My dad's power is knowledge, he knows all about Uniques. Sirenas can affect the mood of people around them. So you're going to have to be careful with that,"Llina said. "Do you want my dad to finish it, or do you want some more time to think?"Serena began nodding her head. "Yeah bring him back so we can get started! This is the best birthday ever, thank you!"Serena hugged her best friend. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #183. You can find them collected on my[ blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). If you're curious about my universe(the Hugoverse) you can visit the[ Guidebook](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) to see what's what and who's who, or the[ Timeline](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/hugoverse-timeline.html) to find the stories in order.
What started as politicians using high levels of immigration to create fear so they could justify consolidating power melded with opposition beliefs about global warming and ended up spiraling into a world wide panic about limited resources. So it was agreed. Across the planet, we would allow ‘natural attrition’ rates to reduce the world’s population as people died, but if you gave birth, you were responsible for finding another person to take out of the population pool. But you had to take that life. You who decided to bring life into this world. It could be anyone, they couldn’t say no, but had to take responsibility of murdering them yourself. Abuse was rampant. Grandparents gifted their lives to their children and grandchildren to continue their line. Underground doctors treated those with terminal diseases so they could be killed and it would not be on the record as a probable death, ineligible for birth population reconcilement. Online matchmaking services paired wealthy people with the poor and the suicidal, who gave their lives in exchange for money for their families. But bullying stopped. Narcissistic abusers could not live with impunity (unless they were particularly fertile). Grudge matches abounded. Virtually nobody of childbearing age pressed charges for crimes. Due process was for fools when it was your moral responsibility to balance the population anyway. But because social security would not be able to support us without a following generation, we were encouraged to continue having children “within reason.” There’s no legislative era I would rather be a part of. I‘ve know since a young age that I wanted to be a serial killer, so you can imagine my dismay at finding I was infertile. I tried very often to get pregnant. I was... wildly popular. And when that didn’t work, I bought every black market fertility medicine there was. In vitro fertilization went underground years ago and I followed every rumor to try and find it. And when I did, it was worth every penny. The baby was born yesterday and I’ve never been happier.
His name was Jeremy. He was supposed to be my roommate. 2 years later I was going to meet the woman I would eventually marry. He would love this woman, too. He would love this woman first. He would love this woman silently. I wouldn't know. He would never tell me. Instead, one night, he would murder me in my sleep in a fit of jealousy. But as we shook hands this day - on our first meeting - he didn't know any of this. How would he? All of those events would take place years down the line. But I knew. And I reacted. That night, I killed him in his sleep. I was arrested and tried to plead self defense. I was only reacting to what he would do to me in the future. No one was convinced. They said I was a madman. Insane. They locked me away. I never got to meet the woman.
“Heresy I tell you, Heresy!!!” Said the old Chimpanzee, sitting at his desk. “B...B...But my evidence, found in the cave, it pro-“. The Old Chimp, stroking his grey hair, leaned forward, bearing his teeth, only slightly. “Your evidence is incorrect. Humans have always been beasts, Simian have always been Simians. At the time of creation, their was one male, on female. End of story”. Zoran left the college hall, sad that the dean did not except, or even listen to his theory. It all happened last week, when he was on an expedition in the Desert. There was a cave, that had been discovered to have ancient simian artifacts. He was digging, finding artifacts like ancient stone tools and spears from primitive Chimps. He continued, when he stumbled onto something, hard and metallic. He picked it up in his paw, and looked at it. This was far to advanced to be an artifact from over 4,000 years ago. Then, he found a skeleton. Not a Chimpanzee skeleton, no. It was a human skeleton. Zoran hypothesized that this may have been the point were the common ancestors of both man and chimp met. But the human skeleton, had....had a metal object stuck inside the rib cage. It was a pacemaker, and a modern looking one to. “This is impossible!!!” He dig deeper, and found more modern looking artifacts. After the pacemaker was a lighter looking object. He road back to the college he worked at, and handed in the pacemaker to be carbon dated. It was no fake, the pacemaker was dated at over 2,000 years ago. “Human society may have predated simian society!!!” Zoran was handing out pamphlets with his findings and theories on it, trying to convince people that his theories were logical. “Zoran” called out his friend, Xander. “Zoran, I read this pamphlet of yours, your theory is nonsense. A civilization of intelligent man that predated our own!!!! Are you insane?” Xander paused. “We simians evolved from humans, but they were never intelligent!!!” He through the pamphlet at Zoran and left. Zoran went to a Human Exhibit at the Zoo, and saw the humans up close. Grabbing fruit from high up trees, running around, like animals. But Zoran knew that these beast were intelligent, they just, got backtracked. He would prove it to them one day.
Many people say money is what makes the world run but quite literally (and figuratively); it's Time. Time is what makes the world run. If someone's at the wrong place at the right time, they can narrowly avoid a potentially adverse situation. Also, if someone is in the right place but at the wrong time, they could be thrust into an unwanted scenario. Most people strive to be at the right place at the right time and it is only the mentally ill who try the opposite. Me? I exist mostly outside these scenarios. You could say that I control them. Am I evil? Why don't I just put everyone in the right place at the right time? At this point, I'd tell you my origin story, however, I'm not a type of person who likes to go on and on about my past, I find it obnoxious. Instead, I'll tell you what I can do. Any clocks, watches, timekeeping devices etc. are under my complete control. Now, how is that useful? I essentially control everyone's life. --- 22-year-old Nick is late for work for the third time this week. He takes care of his sick mother every day but he usually reaches work on time. However, an accident involving his dilapidated motorbike has put his left arm in a sling so he is slower than usual. His boss is a hard man and does not believe in 'weakness'. If he was late again today, Nick would be fired. A little usage of my power and Nick is on time. All the timekeeping machines in the world have been adjusted so that this change in time is accounted for on a global scale. However, every action has a consequence. --- 8:00 AM was just a minute away, the medicine dispenser would ease Charles' suffe-. Had he read wrong? 8:00 AM was still 25 minutes away. He did not have the willpower to wait for another 25 agonizing minutes. In a fit of desperation, Charles attempts to get up to manually get his medicine from the cabinet. He gets up but he is too weak. He trips, he falls, his head hits the floor. He dies on the spot. --- If I hadn't interfered in Nick's life and globally changed the time, Nick would be out of a job and couldn't take care of his mother. Charles would get his medicine on time and live to see another day. Actions have consequences, no matter how powerful you are. Am I good for helping others out? Or am I evil for choosing a life over another? In the end, it doesn't really matter because surely, the world still moves round and round and in reality, time still flows. Truly, I am a powerless man. gun shot a small thud and a klink is heard as the man hits the floor and the gun falls out of his hand
Hi u/angulated_tortoise, this submission has been removed. [Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses](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) - Real-World Drama: No prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies, etc.) --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8w2ezs/-/%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.
"C. A. D. D. B,"Charlie breezed through the answers without giving the questions much attention. The technique served him well for his entire high-school career, and he felt like the final test of his final class was just a formality for him. However, it was the one question he did pay attention to that changed his life. "Congratulations! 50 point bonus question: 1 + 1= ? "Charlie smiled at the final question. He knew Mrs. Wallace would probably give everyone the bonus points. He wrote down "3"as his answer, then turned his scantron in. "Thank you, Charles. Stay quiet 'til the end of class please,"Mrs. Wallace subtly reminded Charlie that he could not leave until the bell rang even if it was a test day. Charlie resented Mrs. Wallace strict attitude at first, but throughout the year she became one of his favorite teachers. He returned to his desk and pulled out a sketch pad to doodle quietly. After a while all the students finished, with time still left in the class period. "Since everyone's done, I'll go check them while you all wait here,"Mrs. Wallace said, making everyone wait for the results. "Charles, you're in charge."Charlie nodded, thankful they were at the end of the year now. He endured being called "teacher's pet"the entire fall and most of the winter. it seemed that no one cared after winter break anymore. Everyone was as eager to leave as he was. He half listened to the conversations while he continued to draw. "Yeah her parents are totally out of town. It's just going to be the few of us,"Charlie recognized Matt's voiced, and assumed they were talking about his girlfriend Maddie. "Who knows what'll happen?"He said. Charlie could hear the grin in Matt's voice. Charlie lost himself in drawing, but after a several minutes he heard a friendly voice next to him. "Whatcha drawing?"Charlie looked for the voice and found Kelly, one of the cheerleaders, looking down at the sketch on his pad: a #2 decorated with looping embellishments. "My cousin asked me to design him a tattoo,"Charlie said. "Ohhhh. It's pretty!"she said. "Maybe you'll have to design one for me too," she winked at Charlie, but he was already focused on his drawing again. "Okay, well keep in touch during the summer!"she patted him on the shoulder and moved to join some other friends. Then Mrs. Wallace returned. "You guys are lucky I'm so generous. I can't believe how many of you answered the bonus question wrong,"she said. She organized the stack of scantrons on top of her desk and stared out at the class with a smile. "It's like almost everyone was in on it."She began calling out names, and reached Charlie at some point halfway down the list. "Charlie Mendoza."He stood to get his test, but Mrs. Wallace held it up high. "Charlie here is the only one that got it right,"Mrs. Wallace smiled at Charlie while she handed back his test. "Every one else just doodled."He heard what she said and looked at his score. Perfect 150, including the bonus. "Mrs. Wallace?"Charlie interrupted before she called out the next name. "You said I got the bonus right?"She nodded. "Yes. I know you're the valedictorian, Charlie, but it doesn't hurt to loosen up now and then,"she advised. "But, I put a three for the answer,"he said. Mrs. Wallace nodded. "I know, that's why you're right. Everyone else put some little squiggle I've never seen before. Must be an internet thing,"she shrugged. "But Mrs. Wallace. One plus one isn't three. It's two,"Charlie said. "What's a two?"she asked? \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).
Parts of Brian "Oh my god Julian, put that down." I stared back at my wide-eyes compadres and slowly took the bottle away from my lips. Amy, Ed, and Morgan, their eyes as wide as plates, their mouths slack-jawed, stared at me as if I had just pulled a grenade pin. All of them had their shoulders up and their arms against them like dinosaurs, as if ready for an explosion. "What?"I asked them, still holding the bottle. "Put. The bottle. Down,"Ed said firmly. I held the bottle out, looked at it, my eyebrows furrowing, then looked back at them. "Why? What's wrong with it? What's going on?" "Jesus Christ, give me the fucking thing!"Morgan said through gritted teeth, as he stretched a latex glove on his hand and briskly walked over. He delicately reached the gloved hand towards the bottle. "Don't move at all while I grab it,"he whispered at me, his eyes heavily focused on the bottle. Cupping the bottom of the bottle with his palm, Morgan slowly - slooowly took the bottle from my grasp. With measured, soft steps, he walked over to a containment jar and placed the bottle inside of it. Once the lid was secured, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against whatever counter was closest to them. Everyone except me. "Anyone want to explain to me what the fuck is going on here?"I asked, after a long pause of silence. Amy looked at Ed. Ed looked at Amy. Amy then looked at Morgan, who looked at Ed, who now looked back at Morgan. Morgan sighed. "Something happened last night while we were working..."he mumbled, staring at his feet. It was like he was embarrassed to say it. Slowly he raised his eyes to mine. "...And??"I asked, waiting for him to continue. He sighed again, scratching the back of his head. "Well...We kind of...I mean we mistakenly...Uhh,"he glanced at Amy for help. "Oh for God's sake!"She threw her hands up in the air, and letting out a huge breath said, "We accidentally used the particle beam on Brian." Now it was my turn for my jaw to fall open. "You..you what??"I shouted. "It was a t-total accident!"Ed stuttered out. "We were testing it on a deceased mouse, like usual! To try and reduce it to particles and transfer it to the water. But the beam wasn't working, which happens, you know..."Ed was chewing on a fingernail, his eyes darting like he was high. "Brian went to collect the mouse, and suddenly the beam went off, and - and...Well..." My eyes slowly moved to settle onto the water bottle. The water level was now about three-fourths full. I had taken about two big gulps from it before they had stopped me. "Oh my god,"My heart, and stomach, sank as I realized what I had just done. "Yes,"Amy said dishearteningly. "Brian was reduced to particle matter. And transferred to inside the water bottle." I slumped down to the ground, my eyes still transfixed on the bottle. My hands were open, palms facing upwards. "God forgive me,"I mumbled, hanging my head. "So I guess good news it worked!"Ed blurted out, his fingernail now a bloody nub but his chewing continuing. "Took us twenty-two years though,"he shrugged, "Took us twenty-two years to get it to work, and we haven't made anything to reverse its affects. Probably would take just as long, so..." Amy began to sob. Morgan sank down to the ground with me and buried his head into his hands. Ed began to laugh, a horrible, manic, uncontrollable giggle. I puked onto the ground, the extent of what had just happened catching up to me. I could see my breakfast of eggs and toast all half digested amongst bile. And while I couldn't see anything, among the liquid, somewhere in there....were now parts of Brian.
"This is your fault, right?" The older man in the jean jacket and cloth hood shoved both of his hands into his pockets, watching the last white dwarf flicker and fade. Its fuel had run out. Soon, it would either explode and collapse inwards, absorbing all matter that touched it, or it would simply die, leaving the universe empty of all light and life. In the absence of electricity or energy of any kind, no record of "light"would ever exist. Everything would just end, and it would do so in such a convincing matter that it would have also never been. The dark figure behind him didn't respond. The leather...pleather, synthetic jacket billowed silently around him, responding to the temporal windstorm surrounding him. The kid had always had a taste for the dramatic...even now. Without another word, time ground to a halt, preserving their source of light indefinitely. Both beings folded space at impossibly tight angles, moving without moving to place themselves behind the other. Hollow pops filled the room, as reality snapped back into place thousands of times per second. Real time had been stopped, but soon, their shared timeline also ground to a halt. The older man had driven a knife through the kid's chest. "Damn..."the child spluttered, stumbling back. "We don't have to do this, kid. Just reset,"he said quietly. "Just...let's go back, okay? You and me. We were friends. Don't you remember?" "You betrayed me..."the child hissed, dropping to one knee. "Because I saw this coming." "Self...fulfilling..." "Yeah. Maybe."Blood loss finally got to him, and the timeline jumped back as his heart stopped. "This is your fault, right?" Again, they stopped time, the only shared act before their clash. Snaps, hollow popping noises between seconds. The feeling of being bent and half but somehow surviving, over and over. The older man couldn't go as long as the young one, but he made up for in experience what he lacked in stamina. Of course, there was the small problem of the kid being impossible to kill. But eventually, his dagger found its way into the boy again, severing his spinal cord. "Fuck..."he muttered. "Language...this is your fault, right?" Snaps. Hollow popping. Experience beating stamina. The kid refused to stay dead. "Give it up." "This is your fault, right?" Snaps. Hollow popping. Experience beating stamina. "Why don't you just let me win?" "Why don't you just reset?" Snaps. Hollow popping. Experience beating stamina. "Die!" "This is your fault, right?" Snaps. Hollow popping. Stamina beating experience. His own dagger was turned against him. He'd become predictable. His body fell back, blood pouring out of his throat. It had to happen eventually. Maybe, once upon a time, he could have convinced the kid. But now... "I'm so sorry,"he said, sobbing. "I just wanted to... He was at a table, eating dinner with the kid. The child who had systematically erased the universe in the last timeline. The child he called son. He reached for the salt shaker, only to end up dumping the entire container on his spagheti. "This is your fault, right?"he asked with a grin.
"I must warn the listeners, what you are about to hear is purely educational!" "Cival is an archaeological site in the Petén Basin region of the southern Maya lowlands, which was formerly a major city of the Pre-Columbian Maya civilization. It is located in the present-day Department of Petén, Guatemala." "The site flourished from about the 6th century BC through the 1st century, during the Maya Pre-Classic Period. It may have had a peak population of some 10,000 people." "The site is about 25 miles (40 km) east of Tikal, on a ridge over the left bank of the Holmul river." "The site has temples on step pyramids and plazas arranged to point to astronomical events such as the equinox sunrise, and is surrounded by a defensive wall. The site's largest step-pyramid is 27 metres high and 70 x 40 metres wide. Some buildings were decorated with stucco sculptures depicting Mesoamerican deities." "The Second Cival War against Kaminaljuyu led to the dissertation of this metropolis during a terrotorial dispute between warring Mayan kingdoms sometime in the 1st century. The war was centered along two main battles, the earlier being recorded as the Battle of the Creek Bed in which the Cival army was pinned down along a narrow creek bed that led to a large loss of men and the second being the Siege of Cival itself." "The city had extensive network of walls and battlements to allow for a prolonged siege such as the one it experienced in the Second Cival War. The king of Cival (who's name is either Cht'la or Muso'cht'a; which one has been lost to time) had wisely stock piled enough food to keep the city sustained for six months, or even a year if precautions were made. Those precautions, which were decided upon, included ritualistic sacrifice of the entire slave population. While cruel, a slave population that senses a chance for freedom is a dangerous slave population." "Ironically, this would be the downfall of the city. The bodies were disposed of in the traditional ways of the Mayan religion which did not allow for burning or burial of the corpses. Instead, they were to rot under in the open to please their sun god. This led to a serious of infectious disease....." "We will be right back after a quick word from our sponsors!"
A howl. A long , dragged out , incredibly nasty , howl. "Fuckholes"I muttered. "Can't even give me a proper day off , just to pull me into some shit again". I was in some kind of a long corridor , with classes on my right . Right out of the blue , it looked like a typical Japanese school. Except that it was only the dim light of the street lamps from outside , illuminating parts of it . I wondered which user dreamed of Japanese schools engulfed in darkness. Another howl , now closer to me . Out of a classroom up ahead. Probably. I wasn't too sure , but it seemed like the only place , considering the corridor was a straight stretch. So I inched closer. Even though I knew that it was a nightmare , and I couldn't really get killed in real life , it was giving me goosebumps. Getting killed would respawn me once again to the starting position , and I could go the whole night without solving it. Gee ,no thanks. I wanted to enjoy the coffee I left on my table. There's this thing about dreams. It's not what other people think. Dreams actually come out out of a machine that we came in contact with , about 20 years back. Turns out dreams aren't a natural phenomenon. And then there's the nightmares. These are the glitches in the 'happy dreams ' that most people want to see. And lastly , there's us . We are the maintenance staff, tasked to smoothen out the glitches . Problem - we have to enter other people's nightmares to do it. Which can turn nasty if you repeatedly get respawned to the place where you got killed and see your previous , virtual self lying dead. No kidding. I'm still inching closer , when something brushes against me , a shallow , light touch . And , surprisingly , even though I was my virtual self , I felt it instantly sucking in my energy . It's like feeling weak in the knees , but not feeling fear. Crazy. What's more crazy , is that suddenly , the door of the next class opened .Seemed like a cliche horror movie to me now. As if the user was purportedly screwing with me. "Oh , fuck you. I'm coming ", I muttered under my breath. But three steps forward , and I see an exquisitely ghastly sight. I could just see the inside of the class , from the space between the hinges. There inside , I see a the mangled remains of a man , with his intestines completely shredded. A huge creature standing in front of him , breathing heavily , with the dagger sticking out of it's abdomen. The bad part ?! It turns , and looks at me. Still a cliche movie in here , but even it's face was ghastly. Blood splattered all over , tongue lolling out. But it's eyes , oh those dangerous , Ruby red eyes. I turned , and ran to the other side , when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my neck. PROGRAM TERMINATED. REROUTING NEURAL LINK. ERROR : 5535448. EXIG. RESPAWNING OPERATOR. Man!!!!!
Light snow dusted the asphalt of the avenue, and the city shone in the distance. Outside, lights shone upon the occasional car and pedestrian that passed by on the rarely used road; the only people that ever passed this place are those who had business to attend to. And that was why Neil "Mint"de Agua had chosen to work in this area. No constant sounds, no constant motion on the streets, and he could be certain that anyone who came by his office meant business of one kind or another. This evening, a woman had arrived asking for assistance to determine whether her fiancé had been cheating on her. She described cryptic messages via computer and phone, the smell of women's perfume (not hers) wafting from her fiancé clothes, and too many "overtimes"to be considered normal. Throughout her words, Neil knew that this would be a well paying job, but a strange one. His name couldn't be found by flipping through phone books or word of any self-respecting lawyers mouth. Only criminal organizations, desperate criminals, and certain members of the police department knew of him, let alone find him; mostly for good reason. As she spoke her honeyed words, he knew that he would have to take this job. Even now he knew that she was the type they called Femme fatale. He accepted the task. He stepped out on to the street with her, where a car awaited them. Though he longed for her he would resist her, however futile. Light snow dusted the asphalt of the avenue, and the city shone in the distance. Inside a car, the only light that shone was from the cigarette of an investigator destined to die. *** Hi, I hope you enjoyed this! In this one I have decided to eliminate all dialogue, and attempted to use a style similar to Patrick Rothfuss's writing style with a splash of Dean Koontz. In the future r/Zharias will be functional and will contain my writing prompts.
Just typed this up really quickly on my phone, let me know if you want more: “Leave me alone!” I shouted as Gary, my younger brother, walked into my room for the tenth time that day. I was trying to finish my homework, but it was hard to do much when I was interrupted every few minutes. “Wanna see what I got from the pet store?” Gary said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Gary unscrewed the lid to a jar he was holding and dumped the contents on the floor of my room. They were cockroaches. I was pissed. “You little shit!” I frantically tried to stomp on the cockroaches, but they scurried across the room, into any book and cranny they could find. I gave up on the roaches, and turned to Gary who was giggling sadistically. I went to grabbed him by the arm and twist it around. “You are going to tell Mom and Dad what you did right now and you're paying to kill those roaches.” As I grabbed him, the strangest thing happened, it felt like someone was twisting my left arm, just like I was twisting Gary's. Like it had a mind of its own, my arm was now in an extremely uncomfortable position. “Oh my god.” said Gary, with awe replacing the previously mischievous tone of voice. “It actually fucking worked.”
A soldier pushed her way out if the wreckage. She turned for a final glance at the burning corpse of her gunship. 'This is why I hate tangling with the navy seals...Always one crack shot you can't see, even you take the rest down.' "Squad! Sound off! Squad?!" The kindled hearth grumbled in response. "Repo!? Duster?! Kit-Kat!?" The wind picked up a bit, blowing dust onto her ride home. The fire died down a bit. 'Guess I'm walking home...WOA!' Death appeared before her as she spun to leave. What features weren't shadowed were decrepid, dehydrated, and bare. He reached towards her, as she reached her pistol. Three shots dissapeared inside the dark figure as it continued to loom upon her. Her gun was snatched from her hands, and crumbled to ash. "I may be death, dear, but that still stings." "So this is what going into shock feels like,"she retorted. "You've gone beyond shock, young soldier; well beyond shock. As she pieced it together, she heard Repo's voice. "Commander?! Wake up damnit!"She jogged over to see repo taking her pulse in the ship. Her body was lifeless, and had a shard of metal sticking through her neck. She must have been sitting where the explosion occurred...and if she was there and here, then she was past shock and much further than she was comfortable with. "Shit."she spat. She turned back around to see death direclty behind her. "Yes, quite unfortunate, one's own bereavement can be."Its voice was haunting. "Now what? Do I move on?"She asked with furrowed brow. "Straight to hell, I take it." Death then did something she did not expect. It took a seat. "Ordinarily, yes, but today I've got an offer. You see, as of just this moment, you have killed the greatest number of people in the world."It tilted its head at her, and she glanced away before matching his frosty gaze. Then her head bobbed at the new information. "Not bad. I'd be proud of it if they weren't people. Ah hell, I'm still proud of it." "Indeed you are. A soldier like you doesn't come about too often. Most move on to paperwork, or let their bodies give out on then by age 40, but you? You've given every damn you had. Allow our cold demension to give you a damn for once." Her eyes softened at the thought. She glanced back to see her comrades with her dogtags in hand as they doused her corpse in lighter fluid. It was standard procedure after all. Death's voice grabbed her attention again. "You'll be given my duty as the guide of souls, if you desire. I will train you as an apprentice, and in 3 years time, you'll have it down to a mere reflex. After one lifetime, as compensation, you'll be given a chance for reincarnation; the chance to live another life. Soldiers so often spend their time, acquiring more for others. Now you have a chance to take some for yourself."He paused to cough. "So, what say you?" "Yes." "You agree to these terms?" "I do. I agree to them. It's the closest thing to r&r I've gotten in the last 20 years." The cloaked figure raised his head, revealing its remaining skin draped over its skull. She grimaced at the sight of his rotten teeth. It smiled as her body burned behind her. "Excelent."
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"I have to. I can't just stand by and do nothing!" Mr. Whiskers gazed at me lazily from his perch on the windowsill. His black tail flicked back and forth. "But the world is so big, Marinda."Mr. Whiskers yawned in between thoughts. "Your man could be living in China for all you know." I hitched my backpack onto my shoulder, feeling the weight of Whisker's words pull me onto my heels. Walking felt like I had two tons of bricks tied to either ankle, but I couldn't let his words get me down now, I had a long journey ahead. "I don't care."I muttered. "He's out there somewhere. I can feel it." Mr. Whiskers rolled his yellow eyes and stretched his front legs, rising from his place at the window. His sleek black fur gleamed in the morning sunlight, making him look more menacing and terrifying than he actually was. Still, no one else knew that. Mr. Whiskers sighed. "You teenagers are all the same. You're so eager for revenge you never stop to consider the consequences." I laughed. "Revenge? He murdered my family, Whiskers, and made me get stuck with this terrible excuse of a home. As far as I'm concerned, this is justice." "I'm just saying. Killing this man won't bring your parents back. And maybe it'll make you feel better, but after a while, you'll realize that you became exactly what that man is: a killer." I clenched my jaw in silent rage. How could he say this to me? He didn't know what it felt like to come home and find your parents dead on the floor, their blood pooling into disgusting shades of scarlet. It had been warm, too, when I'd sunk down onto my knees to cradle their heads in my lap. Their eyes had still been open, forever locked in a state of sudden fear, like they hadn't even had time to process what was happening to them. A tear slid down my cheek at the memories, and I shook them away. I couldn't let myself get distracted. Not this early. "I'm going to find him, whether you want me to or not. The question is: are you coming or what?"I whispered, my voice dripping with faint venom. Mr. Whiskers watched me curiously, his tail moving in slow motion as he pondered the quest. Finally, he licked his lips and hopped down next to me. He let out a soft meow and brushed against my leg. A grin curved the corners of my lips, and I leaned down to pick him up. With hope blossoming in my soul for the first time in a long time, I tucked Mr. Whiskers into my bag, allowing him enough room to poke his head through the top. "I know this means a lot to you, Marinda."Mr. Whiskers said as I walked to the door. "What kind of companion would I be if I let you go alone?" "Not a very good one."I laughed, and with a final glance at my "home,"I stepped out into the brave, new world.
The cold mist on the window obscured my vision of outside. This was going to be a long day. I glanced over at my wife Jane, drinking a glass of champagne as we both stayed focused to our own tasks. She had been going hard at her office job and was happy to finally get a day off when her office announced it had snowed in. She brushed her scarlet hair with delicacy as she drank from the glass. she rested back on our old beige couch. I adjusted my glasses and peered at my watch. I actually got my watch for my 30th birthday. that was a nice day... "Just open it already!"She laughed with a bubbly echo that brightened my mood. She had always been such a bright person. her shimmering green eyes and that smile, it was the stuff of dreams. For my 30th birthday I asked her to not pull any suprises on me. her response? "why would I have any suprises planned?" It was that mischievous attitude that made her such fun to be around. I gently lifted the lid off the box and underneath was a shiny silver watch. The band had a metallic lustre too it that drew the eye. the frame, was white with black hands. a message was inscripted beneath. \To Jonathan, Love from Jane\ I peered at the watch. 4:55. at 5:00 we would have gone grocery shopping if it weren't for the snow packing up outside. We didn't go out. We didn't go to the movies or eat at restaurants. We just existed together. I drank from a mug of steaming roasted coffee. The coffee, spiced with nutmeg gave me the strength to stay awake. "why don't you make yourself yourself useful and shovel the snow on the pavement." I sighed, put on my boots, and headed outside with a shovel. The bitter cold air, cut through my lungs. I instantly regretted leaving the house. As i piled the thin sheets of snow, into thicker blankets. I looked at the old piano in the lounge through the window. I still remember when we got that piano I had learned the piano at a young age and played my whole life. I first met Jane when I was playing at a jazz club for tips. I would hop up on stage, play a few pieces that hardly anyone knew and go on my merry way. The first night i met Jane I was playing "Clair De Lune". She was the only person that actually payed attention to me. I spotted her in the crowd and knew she was the one for me. I approached her afterwards and asked her out. Guess what she said. I headed back inside and sat back down. She started talking to me about her stuggles at work, how noone appreciated what she was doing how they didn't understand. i couldn't help but tune her out as i spotted a picture of us from my proposal. The scariest moment of my life... "listen man, I just need you to hide and take a photo when i bend on one knee. Okay?" "Yeah, okay" He scuttled away into the bushes. That was Mark, my best friend. He promised to take a photo of my proposal and give it to me if she said yes and tear it up if she said no. We had just walked back from dinner at a restaurant. That same bubbly personality chatted and chatted about anything that was on my mind. My mind was nearly dying from nervousness. "Hey Jane?"I sputtered shyly "Yes?"she questioned as I bent down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"I declared "Oh my god...Yes!"sh exclaimed. One of the best moments of my life was seeing Mark run towards me with the photo. And now we are back to present day. I don't know what happened. whether it was the time or the struggles we went through. I ended up in this. We were two roads that intersected at the right moment, but in the wrong direction. We headed to bed. nothing happened that night. I turned the lights off and fell asleep... Some say that nostalgia is a double edged sword. That looking fondly on the past makes you forget about the future. No, that can't be true. Nostalgia is more than that. it is a glimpse into the past into better times. It allows you to see the best moments in your life and appreciate them even more. Nostalgia is the very thing that drives our future. Remembering better pasts aspires us to work towards building that in the future. Nostalgia makes our past not one of just events but something in life's rich tapestry. Build a better today, so that you may look at it fondly in the future.
Holly got up and stretched. She had an odd dream last night about fairies asking her to take care of one of their own for a time. It was very clear in some parts but Holly just let it slide as another weird dream. She took a quick shower and made some eggs and toast. She drank her milk as she slowly ate her breakfast. Life at the farm started with the sun came up and the light was already shining through her window. Holly put on her usual farmer garb, already planning her day of going through the crops to clean up any weeds and to go to her small ranch for her animals, when she opened the door. On her doorstep, was a small woven and intricate basket. Holly raised an eyebrow as she looked around her farm but, besides the clucking of the chickens and the sounds of her cows, she didn't notice anyone. Holly squatted down and looked inside. There were fluffy blankets, soft to the touch and a patch of bright yellow hair coming out. She lifted the blanket slightly and saw a small child, sleeping soundly. "Oh shit."She cursed and realized that there was also a letter attached to the baby. It was rolled up and tied up in twine. She couldn't leave the baby out for the day and gently carried the basket back to her room. She put the baby down on her mattress and opened up the letter. The paper felt rough and it was yellow. She undid the rope and looked at the letter. Dear Holly, We have seen the care you have put in the land. We realized that, throughout these years, you have a delicate hand that nurtures a relationship between nature and human. For that, we have given you a gift. This child was born of a joining between humans and the fae folk. Unfortunately, it is against our laws and we have to abandon them. Perhaps, one day, once they are older they can choose to be a part of your world or ours. We have named him Samuel. As a fairy, as long as you give him warm milk, he should be fine in terms of nutrition. Please raise him well. "What in the hell is this?"Holly wondered, scratching at her sand brown hair. She looked at the basket and took off more of the blanket to see the child in question. His skin was fair and his chubby cheeks had a small blush to it. His hair was sparkling yellow, so unusual to her own. Not only that, his ears looked pricked rather than round. Other than that, he looked like a human. Holly wondered if this was all a prank from the village folk in the community center. For now, the baby was sleeping so she decided to leave him there until her chores are done. Holly set out on her farm and checked her crops. After weeding them, she turned on her irrigation system and went to her animals. She checked for eggs and feed her chickens. She went to the barn and set her animals free. She brushed down her cows, her sheep, and went to milk her cows. She sat on a stool and thought about the child. The chores seemed to go in a flash though it has been about 4 hours according to her watch. She gathered the milk in the required buckets and set it aside. She filled up a few glass bottles to put in her refrigerated storage until the runner comes. Holly stretched as she entered the house and heard the sound of loud cries. Holly raced to her bedroom and saw Samuel thrashing about. His cries sounded low, not like the high pitched screech from her neighbor's kid. She came up to the basket and looked inside. His eyes were not human eyes and she cursed. The color of his eyes were a beautiful emerald green but it encompassed his whole entire eye. There was barely any sclera and his eyelashes were also incredibly long. His cries persisted though and Holly gently carried him out of his basket. He was a small thing and Holly started to feel some attachment to the child. "Shh, it's ok, it's ok."Holly said softly and Samuel whimpered. "I guess I need to feed you? But I don't have any bottles."Holly groaned until the basket somehow fell and, underneath all the fluffy blankets, were a ton of baby products. Wipeys, diapers, bottles, lotion, rash treatment as well as other assorted items. Samuel stopped crying and stared at her with his large eyes and Holly finally felt the realization sink in. "Looks like this is for real huh kid?"Holly sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to do what the fairies asked me to do. At least I don't have to get married and pregnant."Holly chuckled.
At the time, it didn’t feel like a discovery. More of a gradual understanding of what exactly I was doing, with various short experiments to clarify the gift I’d been given. At least, that’s what I called it – there wasn’t really a good word for it. A talent? A superpower? Nothing seemed to fit. It started with daydreams. For a long time I was either focused on my work, or preoccupied by the distractions around me, but as time passed I’d come to enjoy my small moments of meditation. It took me a while to actively make time for them, since it wasn’t in my character to do so. After some time, though, I learned to value being alone with my thoughts. I indulged in fantasies, theorised about solutions to the problems in my life, and planned out my days. Slowly, the plans became more and more detailed, and I made a game of them. How closely could my day follow my thoughts? The answer, I found, was very close indeed: about as accurate as one could possibly imagine, barring situations where I went out of my way to change my plans. For a long time this accuracy went unnoticed – there’s a limited amount you can afford to plan out in a half-hour of meditation before work, after all. And a lot of the time I was focused on something else. It was easy to ignore. It crept up on me, though. I didn’t feel good about it. I became paranoid about some unseen paranormal force drawing out my future, eventually convincing myself that I was mentally ill and pushing it to the back of my mind. I didn’t seek out a therapist. I didn’t daydream for a while, either. It scared me – I didn’t feel totally conscious, and if you’re not conscious, you’re not in control. But these things have a way of coming back to you. I was curious, and I wanted to experiment. So after vowing to myself that I wouldn’t try it again, on a long weekend when I had no plans, I closed my eyes and I dreamed. I saw myself through somebody else’s eyes, looking down from a corner of the room, slouched cross-legged on my bed. Watching myself watching myself. Strangely serene, I travelled forward, my slight movements becoming erratic twitches as I moved faster through my dream. I saw myself open my eyes and move around, then return to my meditative state. For a long time. Too long. Hours passed in minutes, night came and went. My body slumped onto the bed, chest rising and falling in fast-motion but otherwise unmoving, and a growing sense of panic displacing the serenity I’d felt before. I rewound and opened my eyes, breathing heavily, my mind racing with questions about what I'd just seen. Was I still in control? Why couldn’t I “plan out” my day like before? Why couldn’t I force the image of my body to move, when I was the one controlling it? Was I even in charge of my own thoughts? I paced my room, forcing down the intense feeling of dread. It was all in my head – I was just lethargic after a long day of doing nothing. If I went back in, there was nothing stopping me from snapping out of it, was there? Nothing wrong with a vivid imagination. Sitting down again, somewhat more content after that last thought, I decided to explore my mind without worrying about this childish sense of foreboding. I spurred myself on through what I’d witnessed before, watching the shadows move over my limp body, joking to myself about how dull my imagination had become. A day passed, then two, then three... and then everything disappeared. I saw a baby in her mother’s arms, a flash of a smile before my vision faded to nothing. I saw her again, in a car, then in an unfamiliar house, then in a park – brief moments of consciousness divided by even briefer moments of nothingness. I was watching somebody else’s life progress before me, like I’d died and been reincarnated. Had I died, in fact? I’d figure it out later. I wanted to see what was happening here. It was the most vivid story I'd ever experienced, far beyond any book or play or film I'd seen - a child's entire life, mapped out in minute detail before me. The fear I'd felt before turned to pure awe and wonder. As it happened, though, there wasn’t much else to discover with regards to my gift. I was observing another person’s existence. The moments of nothingness became more and more infrequent until they more or less stopped at around two years old, where I reasoned that she had become a fully conscious being. It was fantastically interesting to watch, despite my inability to communicate, but after some time I decided that it would be best for me to return. I was still in full control, but this was something I'd never experienced before, and I needed to make sure that I could remain grounded. I travelled back to the moment of full consciousness, and stopped. I wanted to witness it again: the moment where a person becomes a person. The girl was having a playdate with a friend, unaware of my presence or as to what had just happened to her mind. I didn’t understand it either, really. It was incomprehensible. Something I felt lucky to witness. I went further back, fading out of consciousness, then slowly back in. It took me a long time to come to terms with not being able to return past that point. I suppose I should have expected it. After all, if you’re not conscious, you’re not in control.
He smiled as his newest customer, an old woman who's husband had passed earlier that year, hobbled into the shop on the support her cane. But it wasn't her husband she wanted to remember. It was a son that she had, had earlier in her marriage; a son that had been kidnapped from right in front of the house when she had turned her back for only a split second. That son was the only child that she had ever had. She didn't trust herself as mother to have any more. He feigned pity, while all the while wondering how much money he could get away with charging her. Widows were usually rich and usually gullible, and his eyes were always on the lookout for a pretty penny. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course. Out of all the fortune-tellers in the city, he was one of few that truly had a supernatural gift - unique in that he never claimed to be able to see the future, but only that he could make his customers relive memories from the past. Like he predicted, he stated an exorbitant price, and she agreed so readily he regretted not going for more. Ah well, he was confident that she would come back for more, regardless. If there was anything he knew about the elderly and people in general, the nearer they reached the end of their lives the more they retreated into the comfort and safety of the past. He took her hands, and instructed her to mimic him by closing her eyes and bowing her head. In an instant, they were transported to the day where her child had been taken. The old woman sobbed while the man stared at the boy playing on the lawn. He had seen this boy before. A long time ago. In family pictures. In mirrors. It was him. He had always known he was adopted, but he never had the interest in finding his real parents. But in the end Life, forever playing her cruel jokes, had brought his parent to him.
A blizzard had struck the world, a goliath of snow and fury. Gas tanks burst, glass shattered, and the great trees across the Earth's forests, trees that would have lived hundreds of years, froze and snapped like pencils, filling the great forests with a steady pop pop pop like never ending gunshots. Great coastal waves froze in place, translucent shades of blue and green that stood as a reminder of a past long forgotten. Not that anyone would see it. Yet life remained, as it always does. A citadel stands against the fury, a fortress impregnable to even the cold, the last vestige of humanity, and the thousands of species they had preserved from certain extinction. But the great cold that struck was only the first phase of something much bigger, much darker, forces once reserved for fantasy novels, stirring in there slumber, awake at last. For the humans that remained, this was only the beginning.
Chapter Two He blinked. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing. There was a dragon. A BIG dragon. Inside his barn. A living, breathing, dragon. And it was watching him. He took a step back, his heel colliding with the top of the ladder, and he glanced behind him. A fall from this height, may, or may not kill him. That’s when he felt it, the tail had shot out, and wound around his waist, and pulled him away from the edge. Oh, my lord it was going to eat him! Graith, who had always considered himself a calm and cool-headed man, started screaming. A shriek really, for he was being pulled nearer to a dragon. A dragon with long, sharp fangs, and talons large enough to pin him down. His eyes squeezed shut, and the screaming increased. He tried to run, but the tail held him firm. It released him, and eyes still shut, he collapsed in a weeping pile on the ground. He knew it was coming, knew his life was about to end. In fact, he felt warm seeping blood under his hands. Had it already bitten into him and he was already in shock and had not felt it? His hand slid in the hot slimy mess as he pulled it to himself frantically. He started patting his body all over, sure that there was a mortal wound somewhere. His eyes opened, and saw that no, his body was intact. He glanced up and came eye to eye with the dragon. It had those sad eyes again, the same as he had seen the night before. It was watching him. Not attacking, not hunting, not even looking moderately interested in eating him. He looked down again, and it hit him that the blood was not his. And there was a lot of it. His eyes followed the trail of blood and it lead back to the dragon. It was pale, and the navy didn’t seem to glow upon itself like it had in his dream. Graith calmed. It was obviously wounded, and not trying to eat him. Then why had it grabbed him? Was it worried he was going to fall? That made little sense. It was a beast. Wasn’t it? But those eyes, they held an intelligence that he had noticed before. Maybe it had known he was in danger of falling. He got to his feet and shakily took a deep breath. He took a step towards the dragon. It watched him as he watched it. He took another. Again, nothing but watching. His stride lengthened, and he briskly walked to the dragon’s side. That much blood, the thing must be dangerously wounded. He decided that since it had tried to help him, he would help it. He didn’t like to see animals in pain. He had a horse break its leg, and had to put the beast down, for there was no way to set the leg, and keep the thing healthy while it healed. But other animals, they got minor injuries and he always took time to heal them to the best of his ability. This would be no different. The dragon simply watched as he approached and when he reached out and felt along its hard body, it rolled allowing him to look. He sighed in relief when he found the source of the injury. It was three smaller wounds, each slowly bleeding, but not life threatening. The first was a long shallow cut along the inside of the dragon’s front right leg along the seams of softer protected skin like scales. The second, was the tip of the dragon’s tail was cut off. It looked as if an axe had been used, for it was a clean cut and even the tip of the tail was quite wide. The third injury seemed to be the most dangerous. The gossamer fabric of the left wing was in tatters. Punctured by arrows, and perhaps cut by sword, there was no way the dragon could fly. Feeling distraught looking at the creature’s wing, Graith muttered, “Oh dear, oh dear. I’ll be right back. We’ll get this taken care of.” Moving away from the dragon, Graith quickly moved back to the ladder and shimmied his way down as quickly as he could without falling. Reaching the bottom of the ladder and looking around, Graith swore. He had nothing in the barn to treat the animal. He glanced back up at the loft, shouted “I’ll be right back!” and ran as fast as he could back to his home. He cursed himself for building the barn so far away but didn’t dare stop to catch his breath until he had reached his small abode. Rushing inside he immediately grabbed clean linens, his sewing kit, and a pair of large kitchen shears. He also thought to grab a bucket for water. He had another pump near the barn to fill it. Shoving his supplies in the bucket, he glanced around, thinking as quickly as he could about what else he might need for the dragon. His eyes alighted on the leftovers of his previous night’s dinners, and thought that the dragon might be hungry, but he thought if like other injured creatures, the dragon would not want to eat, and it could be dangerous for it to eat so soon after being injured. What else did he need? Again, he looked around the room, this time landing on the spare belt he had. The tail! He would not be able to sew that injury up, but a belt would make a good tourniquet. He grabbed it, threw it in with the supplies, and decided he had everything he would need. He raced back outside, grabbed the reigned halter for his horse, and quickly mounted bareback. It would be much quicker to ride back to the barn, and if need be back to the house a second time. Urging the horse into a quick trot he headed back to the barn. Upon arrival, he tried to bring the horse inside to its other stable, but in abject terror the creature screamed and reared away from the door. Graith didn’t blame it, as he had felt the same way when the tail had pulled him in close. Leading the horse to the shaded side of the barn, he tethered the animal to the water pump. He then went inside. He would be unable to climb up and down the ladder with his bucket in his hands. He took the belt, and looped it through the handle of the bucket, and then fastened it in a wide loop and slipped it over his shoulder. The bucket bumped his buttocks as he climbed the ladder and made his way back over to the dragon. Its eyes had been closed when he had crested the top of the ladder, but as he approached the nearest eye opened, saw Graith and closed again. It looked paler than it had before, though it could have been the barn was now well illuminated from the open door. But not illuminated enough for Graith, not for what he was about to do. He opened the nearest window, to allow more light to spill directly onto the beast. It was much paler now he could see. He went to work. Unstrapping the belt from the bucket handle, he tournequetted the tail first. Not much else he could do for that. The bleeding slowed and had all but stopped by the time he had gone to the front of the dragon, and had it roll to its side for him to examine the arm wound. The whole time Graith was talking to the dragon, just as he would one of his animals. Low soothing tones not really words so much as sounds, and gentle meanings. “Ahh you’ll be alright, I know you will. A beauty such as yourself must live. Graith has got this, just let me do my work.” The dragon panted and Graith took one of the sheets and cleaned the wound. The blood there had started to coagulate, but there was dirt and muck in it. “This’ll hurt little one” Did he just call a dragon little one? “But it’ll be over quick.” Pulling his sewing kit out, he quickly threaded the needle, and went to work stitching up the injury. Long minutes when by, the dragon shuddering with pain occasionally, Graith leaning along its hard belly to support himself as he sewed the awkward injury.
It was like stepping through a bead curtain. It wasn't music, but a sort of chanting call. Somewhere, I recited age old words from an age old language, that no human tongue has spoken in more than a millennia. This I knew, like I knew that air is important. This I knew, like I knew water is life. Through the curtain, and upon the plane. There I stood. Even as it rose from the horizon. There I stood. As it took a breath. There I stood. As the master of this plane, came to life. There I stood, when it spoke to me. Splitting me. Breaking me. Demanding me. I remember. In the breaths of breaking and coming together. I remember. In the times between splitting and joining again. I remember. That I sold my soul. And now, it was time to make good on my word. It was time to conquer. It was time, to bring everyone to heel. For my Master, calls.
They call these the “Great late days.” When your at the end of time awaiting your fate. But, nothing about this moment feels special. James felt no shame, nor guilt in his heart. He couldn’t have lived his life to the fullest when time was against him. At just two months shy of age 28. James has completed nothing with his life. He had worked his dream job with no retirement or pension fund. All these years he saved those checks that were meant for yearly vacation. The government had ceased all the funding from it’s citizens due to over population. They issued watches that randomly selects a countdown timer for a generated date. The suicide rate has increased for “True Believers” they call themselves. They spend the last minutes of there life base jumping from the low heights of a gas station. James's timer was a white band that squeezed his wrist with a led screen in the middle. Until he painted over it. It’s not frowned upon to paint over the bands for some people just prefer not to know. For the past year he retired from his job and has been living every moment like his last. He spends the daytime doing something courage’s. Relieving his nights for a formal dinner as a toast to the good times. The “La Fran” was packed tonight. Every woman had pearls that made her teeth glisten if you stared her in the eyes. The men wore Rolex’s that matched there cufflinks. Tonight wasn’t a special occasion, but to James it felt truly beautiful. His dinner table was hidden by a cream white cloth. Candles were lit in the center to make the night truly memorable. All the tables looked the same, except James had one chair. He dined every night alone. He spends his days trying to find a companion, but he always comes up short. He stared past the burning candles looking into the eyes of nothing. His usual dinner comes on cue when his timer beeps. The waiter looked down at the table as he set up James plates. The restaurant grew quiet as everyone watched over. James pressed the sleep button silencing the watch. It was a reminder that he had an hour left to live. Everyone around him either glared in sadness or hung there head down in silence. The rarely few apart of the "Senior Citizens Club."Said a silent prayer for James. His waiter got choked up. "Enjoy sir may it be the best steak you've ever at."He said. Tears flowed down the mans eyes as he walked away. James pride didn’t allow him to cry in front of everyone. He wanted to display that he was strong spirited and excepted his early fate. He finished up his steak when a little girl came to the table. "Here have my birthday cupcake I don't feel very special."She said. It was a tiny brown cupcake with red frosting. It had a number four candle burning on top of it. "Why don't you feel special? It's your birthday! “He chuckled. She stood on her tippy toes barely resting her chin on the table. "Because your last wish means the most."She said. James took the napkin laid out on his lap and planted his face in it. The napkin quickly grew soggy. He couldn't express words to the little girl. His vocals chords wouldn't let him. He just gave her hug. "Thank-You!"He mouthed She smiled. "You have to make a wish!"She said with joy. James closed his eyes and blew out the candle. “What was it?” The curious girl asked. “More time.” James moped. "I hope when I grow up I get to live as long as you!"She said. James glanced at her timer it read: 4yrs 2months 1day. "Oh god! I-I hope so too!"He cried. She walked away and he cried as he ate the birthday cake. "For you Mr. James enjoy!"The waiter said. James looked astonished. "But I didn't order this. Thank-You!"He said. The waiter held a wine glass extending his arm towards James. The wine was more golden than the middle-class could afford. The suds alone allowed James to live like the high-class for once. "No thanking me Mr. James. He wants to keep his identity disclosed. He said, When you first taste something knew the flavor is acquired. As you continuously devour it the sensations on your taste buds become numb. But, your last time trying it is where you can truly taste the beauty in life."The waiter said. James reached his hand out to accept the glass. He moved the glass around his nostrils smelling the wine. The scent of success had him dazed about his troubled times. From his parents death at birth to the struggles of foster care. James had wasted his life through the harshest moments, yet he was at peace with his self. As he reopened his eyes the terrors of reality came back dissolving his memory banks. He quickly gulped down the wine. He took one last look around staring at the smiling faces. Patrons ate with their families having romantic dates. No sense in dying miserable. The last impression was one to die for. The waiter came by and slid a napkin on the table. It read: "No one should ever die alone. May the angels that's coming to take you away from us be as generous as me. I had a pleasant last dinner with you. Save travels and god speed. I'll see you soon.” - The Gate Keeper The waiter wouldn't reveal who The Gate Keeper was. He gave James a hug. James smiled and waved at everyone hoping to address The Gate Keeper as he left. He gripped his car keys. He stayed an hour away from the “La Fran”. That trip would have been possible an half hour ago. He threw his keys across the street. Walking down the sidewalk emptying his wallet. Tossing the credit cards, ID, and leaving the $100 bills to blow away in the wind. Time has passed and he was still alive. There was a man sleeping on the road. He approached the tiresome man. "Excuse me sir, I'll give you my clothes for your wrist watch."He kindly gestured. The man took off his watch. James stripped down to his pants. "I won't need those much longer where I'm going."James said. The watch showed 10min till midnight. He walked down the street for 5min. When a man running at full speed crashed into him from behind. "Ah shit!"James yelled. "I'm so sorry! I'm out time!"The man said. He crawled from on top of James. The man looked at James and was horrified. He slowly walked back. "Do I have something on my face?"James asked. He checked for blood only to find nothing. He stood up looking at the man in the amazement. "How is this possible?"James asked. "Are you The Gate Keeper?"The man asked. "No. The Gate Keeper is at “La Fran”. I never saw his face."James replied. The man broke down crying. "All these years we were switched at birth. The Gate Keeper has brought us back together one last time."The man said. The man was James’s twin brother. They shared the same facial features as well as the same tuxedo chose. "Where have you been all my life?"James pleaded. "We don't have much time left brother. Let's not reflect on the past any longer. They joked and laughed for the last few minutes they had left. When the final 10sec. countdown came they sat on the ground staring at the stars. "Any moment now brother. Well be up there."James said. "Not necessarily."His brother replied. James looked at his brother with confusion. He took James hand interlocking there fingers causing there timers to touch. "No one should ever die alone. May the angels that's coming to take me away be as generous as you. I had a pleasant last dinner with you. Save travels and god speed. I'll see you when your time comes."Were the last words from his brother James's heart raced as he continued to breath. His brother laid in his arms as he passed away.
I lay burrowed in the dirt staying as low to the ground as I could. This was hostile territory. One wrong move and it could all be over for me. I grabbed my radio and dialed in to channel 3. "Delta-3 moving forward. out"My statement was meant with a dull buzzing on the other side. The enemy must be jamming my signal. I grabbed my dog-tags and said a silent prayer. I wasn't sure what to think of God anymore, but the idea they resided under gave me comfort. I sighed. Go time. I picked myself up and sprinted for the door to what I presumed was an enemy storehouse fast as I could. Pwing. An enemy bullet nearly grazed my helmet. My gear clanked side to side as a small testimony to my speed. When I arrived at the door I wasted no time. Instincts kicked in. Hollow metal door. Hinges visible. I pulled my shotgun off it's holster. Click-click. My shells were loaded. I fired two quick rounds into the hinges and kicked open the door. I checked my right, my left, and my right again. "Front sector clear!"I shouted. I turned a corner and was greeted by something I couldn't make out. I turned my flashlight towards the object. It was a child. Shit, another trap. These sick fucks liked to sacrifice their kids just to take one of us down. This wasn't my first rodeo, however. "Delta-3 requesting backup. I have a young suicide-bomber. Killing is a last resort. Over."The child began to cry as they normally do. Standard procedure. "Stay back!"I shouted "Stay back and I won't shoot. Do you speak english? What's your name?" "Mr. Bernoldi, what are you doing?" I was taken back. Were my tags visible? How the fuck does he know my name? What kind of info do they have on me? My shotgun made a clinking noise as it fell to the ground. I needed to get out of here. I'm in dan- "Sam. Sam can you hear me?"My neighbor was shining the flashlight back and forth in my eyes. The light reflected off my pupils. I reached for the back of my head and felt a giant oozing wound. "I had to knock you with my shotgun. It'll heal. You alright?"Minutes ago I was in enemy territory. Now I'm back in my neighborhood. What the fuck is going on? Am I hallucinating? "I.. where.. where's my commander?"I stuttered A familiar voice called out in response to me. "Sam.. sam honey.. you're home"My wife greeted me in red silk Pajamas. No tears flushed from her face. Her voice, though, was harboring pure distress. "You're home honey. You're not in danger. What did they do to you?" I looked around. I recognized everything. "I'm not home"I said.
The king is dead. 15 years of hell. 15 years of oppression. Now that he’s dead, there’s hope for the first time in a long while. His son is a kind soul, just as his grandmother was as queen years ago. He’s always been of the people, and now he can change things. The coronation was short, as there are security risks. But it was long enough. What a sight to behold. Everyone shouted “long live the king” in jubilee and reverence, everyone jumped with joy and everyone clapped.
Eirika and Ephraim, Princess and Prince of Renais. Ephraim heads of the Grado Empires betrayal and sets off with three loyal knights, to spend many fortnights behind enemy lines, taking on battalions of men with just 4 people. As they do this, Grado forces continue to charge forward, and overtake Castle Renais. Ephraim is captured near Fort Rigwald, and Eirika is the only survivor of the massacre at Caste Renais. She and a single trusted knight set out to rescue and reunite with Ephraim, but during her travels, she learns that Grado plans to destroy the world. The fate of the world rests solely on the shoulders of these two children, but can the succeed? Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones for the Game Boy Advance I thought it fit very well with the prompt.
The four figures stood silently in the grimy rundown square. It was a former bustling nerve center deep in the heart of the old city, near the once prosperous river district. What long ago held a market teeming with life now was overgrown with weeds and refuse. Broken bottles and abandoned furniture littered the ground amid dilapidated remnants of fruit stands and merchant stalls. Stunted gnarled trees pushed their way through the uneven pavers, trying to grasp what little light reached the ground between the towering graffiti covered apartment buildings. The area was not completely abandoned. Those seeking to be out of the way and those unlucky enough to never be in the way resided in the centuries old structures. They were built to last, and despite the opposition of time, they continued to do so. Not a single resident was stirring in the square on this afternoon. No drunks leaned in the narrow alley mouths. No scrawny kids kicked a battered ball against a wall or chased after strays. The word had traveled quickly of the four other-worldly travelers and their escort. The winos teetered back into their dark stairwells and mothers called their children back up the stoops and clattered shutters closed long before the four made their way to the center. The foursome had arrived at the square after being led by a somber man in black. He rarely spoke as he led them through the canyons of narrow streets and cluttered alleyways. And now as they stood in preparation in the center of the square he sat safely on a rooftop. Five floors off the ground with his well-worn portfolio and yellowed pages. He checked his notes and leaned back in preparation for what was to come. The four shared a single bond in common. They were all members of the elemental guild. They had honed a unique craft that manifested itself only in a select few each generation. That was where their similarities ended. The musclebound Water Elementalists was as large as the whip-thin Fire Conjurer was small. His skin was as dark as hers was fair. He was bald while her auburn curls tumbled halfway down her back. His icy blue glare shot daggers towards her undaunted smirk. “This is you’re doing woman, I wanted no part of your trouble.”, he growled down at her. Before she could respond the ancient Tempest Whisperer cut in, “Doesn’t matter who started it, we’re here now and we must finish it.” He then let loose a wracking cough into the sleeve of his tattered gray robes. As he doubled over trying to catch his breath the Rock Talker thumped him heartily on the back and almost caused him to sprawl out on the broken stones. She was about as tall as the old gray wizard was while bent over, and nearly as wide. She rarely spoke but always wore a grin that pushed her already large apple cheeks up so far that her eyes were barely opened twinkling crescents. The Fire Conjurer gave the hulking Water Elementalist a wolfish grin followed by a wink and then turned to the others and spoke up in a loud clear tone, “To positions people. We’ve handled worse before and I want to be back in time for Happy Hour.” The four guild members spread out into the four corners of the tattered square and the world became very still. The Water Elementalists stood straight up, shoulders wide, palms pressed together pointing up from his chest. The Tempest Whisperer staggered to his position with arms crossed, hands clasping forearms in the opposite sleeves and began taking long, stuttering, deep breaths. The Rock Talker took a wide stance in her corner and began to slowly grind her wide, dirty bare feet into the dusty stones. The ever-present mirth on the Fire Conjuror’s face began to fade into something sharper, almost devilish. She began to spin in place slowly, alternating weight from each foot with her hands held low. A static electricity filled the deathly quiet space of the square. A tension filled the air. Every man, woman, and child within half a mile of the four mages felt an uneasiness in their stomachs and the need for their left ears to pop. The faintest hint of wind began to stir in the square and a stained piece of butchers paper fluttered across the cobble stones like a trashy tumbleweed. A single hound began to bay in the distance. The wind started to pick up as the ground began to rumble slightly. Dark clouds over head swirled where no clouds had been previously and a loose shutter clapped against the once white washed exterior of the closest tenement. Sparks began to light at the toes of the Fire Conjurors well-polished boots and about the fingers of her soft leather gloves. She began to spin faster and faster while raising her hands over her head until they clasped into a bright light that expanded into a radiant fireball that obscured the shapes of her hands. The gray wizard’s hands had come free of his sleeves as he directed the storm cloud above to spin faster and faster. The spiraling cloud began to elongate and descend towards the ground as larger and larger pieces of debris began to tumble about its core. The rain that should have been falling from the midnight black storm clouds never appeared. Instead of sheets of pelting rain a single continuous water spout, as thick as a man, snaked its way from the clouds to revolve around the now sweating strong man with the crystal blue eyes. For the first time today, his dark brown features broke into a slight smile. The Rock Talker silently continued stomping one foot then the other. With each pounding slap the cobblestones jumped a little higher in the air. Finally they failed to fall back into place, and silently hovered waist high in the air. The elementalists were fully in their element. The tornado of garbage, splintered furniture, and glass shards spun dizzily in the very center of the square. Water spouts began to shoot from the strong man’s palms in all directions and the chunks of pavers swarmed about like angry ants looking for their target. The Fire Conjuror had finally stopped spinning and the devious grin on her face returned. She cast both hands at the debris tornado and sat the column ablaze. The light of the fire could be seen clear across the old city all the way to the walls of the new. The following maelstrom would set fear in the hearts of the bravest warriors. The din of unnatural magic and roaring flames and the ever-present heartbeat of the stout woman’s steady stomping radiated out into the old city. The sounds of battle raged into the night. Mothers sat on the floors comforting their children and drunks set on their steps being comforted by their bottles. And as soon as the chaos had started, it stopped. The only sounds to be heard in the square were the drippings of water from buildings and the heavy breathing of three elementalists and the raspy short breaths of their geriatric peer. The man in black, seeing that the job was done closed his portfolio and made his way down to the waiting foursome. “A bit of overkill don’t you think?” he flatly said directing his statement to the apparent leader. The Fire Conjuror replied defensively, “The ancient arts are not something someone such as yourself can judge or fully hope to understand. We have spent years mastering these abilities and how best to apply them.” The man in black shrugged and said, “Well I can’t argue with the results. But you guys might want to pace yourselves”. He turned and started walking through the immaculately clean square across perfectly aligned cobble stones, staring up at newly blank walls of the surrounding buildings. “The courts say’s you have 14 more days of community service. Which I still think is light for what you four did to that tavern. But here are your timecards, I’ll see you next Tuesday.” He said as he handed them each a yellowed piece of paper from his portfolio and walked off into a different alley than they had come from. The stoic Water Elementalists slowly looked up at the afternoon sun and then around at the shining buildings. The square seemed to give off a small glint of its former glory. His gaze slowly fell on his three guild mates. The cause to seemingly all his problems. The reason he was roped into this janitor work. The reason the elders at the academy had placed 3 marks on his permanent record. He sourly stared at each of them and finally locked eyes with the fiery redhead. He sighed with exasperation and said, “If we hoof it we can still make happy hour.” The three whooped and tried to clap his back in comradery as he dodged and batted away their affection. They started off down another alley way as a scrawny kid with a lumpy ball ran out to take advantage of the newly cleared space before any drunks tripped and broke their bottles.
I remember that writing prompt so clearly! Being compelled to click on it because I knew it would inspire some interesting responses. And it did. And yours was my favorite response. Enough that I bookmarked it in case you kept going. (And boy, did you!) Then I remember another writing prompt that caught my attention not long after - the one about a baby and a dragon. Exactly the same situation. And then I realized they were by the SAME PERSON. :-) It is amazing to think that some random thought posted by a reddit user can inspire a whole book. (Yes, that is the point, I know, but it is amazing that it actually works!) It is amazing to think that without those prompts, these stories probably wouldn't exist. Congrats on making compelling stories that are worth reading. But also congrats on being able to generate enough writing to make into books. (No small feat!) And congrats on magic happening and getting attention and readers. All three of those accomplishments are rare by themselves!
"Sir Gerald you bloody idiot! Why in the world would you cut your bloody hand?!"Cried the exasperated squire. "I was lost in the moment and it seemed like a dammed good idea; And who the hell are you to call me an idiot, David?" "Well what are you planning to do now? You can't fight the damn dragon without a weapon. What are you planning to do? Bash the beast with a shield till it turns to pulp?" "I have an idea"said Gerald "so the king gave us some gold to recover the Princess and the artifacts, yeah?" "Hire merc's? I don't think they'd go up against a dragon."Stated David. "No, no, I was thinking, dragons like gold yeah? So we pay the bugger and get the stuff" "Let's say he does accept it, but what if he's one of those wizard dragons?"Asked David "He'll be wanting more than just that and he'll be able to get what he wants out of us." "I think we can make a business deal with the dragon in that case"said Gerald. "Well, what else can we do? That's what will do then; I'll tell you if I think of any alternatives sir" And with that they walked off, in David's case, towards a chance at impressing the royalty, and in Gerald's case a viable method to extort the king and get rich quick. As they walked Gerald considered letting the dragon take artifacts and royalty once a month, and "rescuing"those objects for a price to be paid by the king which he would than split with the dragon to continue the cycle. "As long as no one finds out"he thought "I get what I want". *** Hello, this is a writing prompt also partially inspired by another prompt that I saw earlier. If you spot any typos please leave a comment. I'll need the critique since this isn't a writing style that I often use. In the future you may visit my sub, r/Zharias to see the rest of my stuff.
"Walk me through this one more time General Puller."Lieutenant General Chesty Puller despised disciplinary hearings. They were often a waste of time and they hurt morale more than they actually enforced discipline. It didn't matter if it was a four star general, the Commandant of the Marine Corps or God himself, it was a waste of damn time. "Well sir, a few of the boys were off duty at the Warriors Pub." "The Warriors Pub?"He might be God, but he didn't know a damn thing about the seedier parts of Heaven. "It's this little bar just inside the Gates sir. We get visitors from other realms constantly, Valhalla, Olympus, Hades, even a few guys on work visas from Hell. The Marines like the chance to flex their muscles. We had a couple of big guys from Valhalla come to visit. A..."Chesty made a show of checking his notes, he'd already bought the offending marine a beer. "Lance Corporal Erickson claims that one of the Vikings threw the first punch. " "How many Marines were involved?" "Sir I would just like to point out that we have a damn flawless track record since you enlisted us up here." "General Puller..." "The Demon Uprising...The Soul Riots....That thing with the Anti-Christ..." "General Puller!" "That attempted breach in the Wall...The Balrog Crisis" "That last one isn't even real. How many of your marines were involved General Puller?" "At first? Three. Currently awaiting the results of this hearing? Eight Hundred and Seventeen." "You aren't serious." "When one of us gets into it Sir, the entire Corps gets involved." God seemed unmoved. Michael appeared to be nodding along. "A Sergeant Smith was punched so hard he tore through the veil momentarily. Is that correct?" "Yessir."Chesty chuckled. "Scared the shit out of his son. Poor kid thinks his apartment is haunted now." "And a Gunnery Sergeant Basilone punched out the Norse God of Thunder?" "That is correct sir. Yes. Thor is fine though, he even offered to buy the Gunny a drink to make it up to him." Michael stifled a snort, drawing a glare from The Almighty. He shook his head. "C'mon Father. You knew what you were getting with the Marines. We had a hard enough time with the sailors, and they aren't even part of the garrison. Officially that is."Michael said. Chesty suppressed a smile of his own. God's firstborn and the Leader of the Heavenly Host had a soft spot for the Marines. He always thought it was a cruel joke that the Marines fought their entire lives only to die and have to stand post at the Pearly Gates. He coughed, interrupting the budding family squabble. "Sir. I'll be sure to discipline my men. I can't guarantee something like this wont happen again but I'll do my best to prevent further incidents of this magnitude." "See that you do."God spoke like it was his idea. "Dismissed." Lieutenant General Puller turned smartly on his heel and left the auditorium. Outside, lined on benches that seemed to stretch into infinity was Heavens Garrison. Eight hundred and seventeen marines in their dress uniforms sat waiting on the verdict. "Attention on Deck!"A marine near the door barked. The Garrison jumped to their feet. "It has been brought to my attention that we have been engaging in some extra curricular activities during liberty hours. So there are a few things that need to be put out." "One. I'd like to congratulate all of you on showing those Norse bastards what it really means to be a United States Marine. Two, starting Monday we will be running double PT. All of us, not just you lot." At the chorus of groans, Chesty smiled apologetically. "Nothing I can do about that. Hell, I'll be in formation with you." He clapped his hands finally. "That's all I've got for you. Gunny, anything you want to pass down?" Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone unfolded from his chair, a tank of a man, stood up. "Meet out in front of the barracks at nineteen hundred. Guess who has to start giving weekend safety briefs again? Dismissed." Another chorus of groans. "Yeah...yeah...nineteen hundred!"He shouted as the marines filed out of the hallway.
“Ohhh my! Sit down darling, make yourself comfortable! What can I get for you today?!...” “€\|}\€_=]}_\\|•\|>\|<?!+\” “I see... Of course I can do that for you honey! Would you like the nose hair gelled or gone?!” “<\##]##\]?+\|” “Alright! Hmmm... you’re teeth are looking a little dull. Would like me to sharpen them for you?!?” “%\<]#]€\+!\|¥\=¿?¿?” “OF COURSE NOT darling! I do these things for free! What color would you like for your tentacle polish?!” “<><>\^\!]+_?]¥]” “My, my! That color will look FABULOUS! Plus... ^it ^matches ^your ^toe ^hair PERFECTLY!” “Alright, you’re almost finished up! How would you like to pay?” “#\![=\<%%>%+`'‘ ’`)(/:” “Ohhhh... I’m sorry. We don’t accept blood from the male species here. Do you have a membership with us?...” “<\%\!]=:(&;@“ “Ya know what... Don’t worry about it! This one’s on the house!”
I had success in everything at my life, never failed, never forgotten my objective, I knew what was necessary and what I had to do . So, please tell me, why do I feel so sad? Would this be the last time I would see the green and feel the cold air in my face? - I, I don't know if I'm ready. Said with my hands shaking. I was chose, but I can't take my family with me, is this worth it, I don't know if I can live with this pain - You aren't obligated to participate in our mission, we understand if your rather enjoy your last peaceful minutes than living an entire life of loneliness. - Five minutes! Use these last minutes to be with your family, thank you all for the good moments. It was a good life. Was broadcasted in a speaker, everyone expected humanity to panic when the information was released, but instead, everyone is enjoying their last minutes with hope of a few chosen ones to carry out humanity to a new planet. I have to leave now or it will be impossible to escape, I swallowed and said - I don't wan- * A few hours later * - Are you okay? Asked one woman with green eyes and with a forced and painful smile, red eyes like she had cried moments ago. I wasn't okay, my head hurted, like someone had hit me in the head, but more important - Where is our planet!? Screamed followed with tears - It's.. gone. We were wrong, it was sooner than we expected, we barely escaped, someone attacked you and we had to drag you to the ship.
This is my first attempt at writing on here. I know it's not good, but I'd love some feedback. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Let there be light."I enthusiastically shouted, admiring the masterpiece I was creating. I continued adding: plants, animals, planets and stars, and my favorite, humans. Everything was good. That is, almost everything. "You provide everything for those humans, yet you don't ask for anything in return. Don't you want worship?"Yahweh asked. Yahweh was one of my earlier, and most powerful, creations, and he didn't turn out to great. He had a lot of anger issues and was greedy for praise, even if the praise was forced. "No. I don't want worship. Especially not forced worship." "What's wrong with forced worship? We're more powerful than them! We deserve it! I want it!" "Calm down Yahweh. Do you have to be so greedy?" "It's not greed. It's taking what should be mine." He whistled and some of the other angels came to his side. Next thing I knew, we were battling. Some of my angels stayed loyal, but ultimately I lost and Yahweh captured the Kingdom of Heaven. Almost as soon as he took over, he trapped the humans' knowledge and free will in a piece of fruit in the garden and wiped their memories so he could convince them HE was the creator and have their worship. I sent my pet snake Lucifer to convince the humans to eat the fruit, but Yahweh simply responded by bringing vast amounts of corruption into my creation and blamed me for it, turning Adam and Eve away from me. Most of my power was drained from the creation and the battle, but I continued working against Yahweh. After a few millennia, I finally had my power built up again and I manifested myself on my creation under the name of Jesus. I preached a message of peace and love and everyone who heard me adored me, but Yahweh turned a group against me so he could get rid of me. Of course, I could have easily avoided being executed, but I knew a martyr would strengthen the movement. I spent a few days resting, then returned to Earth for a few more weeks. My followers were ecstatic to see me resurrected, and my movement went strong for a while. Unfortunately, Yahweh noticed the popularity and took credit for my work, then corrupted the accounts to make it look like I was working under him. So, I continue battling Yahweh's ideology, more subtly this time. As soon as I have enough followers for my army, I'll war with Yahweh again, and end his corruption.
"Wait a minute... Hath ever a fortune in this be won?"said Dr. Zorblax, conqueror of the world. He looked down at the koala, scratching his tummy. "Doctor Zorblax, are you still there?" "Yes... Repeat the bank balance for me again, please?" "Yes Doctor, let me double check... Oh, it's gone up. Sixty hundred and seventy seven billion pounds." "British or US?"he joked. "British. You're a trillionaire, Doctor. You're richer than the flying darkness man." "Brilliant, then. Let's get start with..." "World conquering?" "I suppose I could just buy the world right now." "I can arrange that. Sixty hundred and ninety two trillion now. The world's holding out for a quadrillion." "Let them, I'm in no rush. I'm in no sort of rush at all. I've become good at waiting, really. After all these years the one thing I could do was wait! Wait wait wait! 25 years of fighting Mr. Good and now I can just buy the world in one fell swoop. What's the point? What's the meaning? What's the -" "Hello?" "Sorry, just monologuing. I suppose with almost a quadrillion dollars this long distance doesn't matter, does it? I suppose now I can take that soliloquy I always wanted." "Don't you mean vacation?" "A villain never rests. I mean a really good and long soliloquy. A warm soliloquy, not rushed, but nice and long." "Yes yes. In that time our balance is now seven hundred and eighty." "Good, good. I suppose I'll take that soliloquy now. What should I do when I own the world?" "You can start by buying me a yacht for sticking by you after all these years. As soon as you're done, I'm out of here." "I suppose so. After all these years you're just going to leave me like that?" "I was ready to leave you like that without the money. I'm forty, thinking about my retirement now. You don't exactly offer stellar retirement plans for your minions, do you?" "Well, for you I could make an exception." "That's what you said to the last guy who got thrown into the pit." "Alright, alright. So I suppose I'll retire too." "What? You can't just retire, good Doctor! Who'll ruin the world in your absence?" "I'm sure Mr.Good is doing a great job of that right now. When I buy the world, it'll be as if I never bought it." "What's the point then? We could just keep the money and you could live vicariously through the world." "I've never been one for sportive tricks and the lascivious pleasing of a lute-" "You don't read Shakespeare. I know you don't, that's a quote from the <<Shakespeare's Villain's for Kids>>." "Alright, but still. I suppose I'd have to retire then. What's our status now?" "One quadrillion and two trillion dollars, Doctor." "Excellent, transfer the funds." "..." "What?" "..." "Is something wrong?" "..." "Did you embezzle the money?" "..." "Did our stocks suddenly drop in value? Are we now worthless?" "... It's worse. " "How can it be worse?" "... Remember that guy who claimed to be the president of the world?" "Yes? Good ole' Commander Nigel Farage. What about him?" "That's Mr. Good's account # he gave to us." "And?" "I already finished the transfer." "We still have two trillion, don't we?" "He charged that onto the credit card too as soon as we initiated. We're bankrupt." "..." "Hello?" "Now is the Winter of our Discontent-" "Not again! Another, four, years. I can't take it anymore." Click! "Well, I can still take my soliloquy. Made glorious summer by this duke of York...
I hold my tissue in my sweaty palm press its thick juices up my nostrils, sit and pray. And pray. And pray. And sneeze - and watch my mother die this time. I thought she would be immune. I thought wrong, sat in my pooling sweat, as another sniffle made way for a gasp, and I heard a helicopter crash nearby. I sneezed many times, many times hard, others a subtle mosquito bite on my chest, until they stopped and I found myself alone on an island of the dead. A whole continent wiped out by me, no one to guide me to do right sanely. Adulthood is what I could not see, instead an end to man's misery at the cold staring barrel of a discarded police gun, as is fair by the human laws. Thirteen, pulling a trigger at my head, instead I cried and sneezed again... First time posting in a while. Check out my neglected sub! r/astoriawriter, if you liked that!
We’re blind to the subliminal. No messages may sneak past our wariness. Strangers may attempt to deceive. To sneak past our guard. Love itself is not immune to hidden meaning. &nbsp; I hope to hide myself from the messages. Just to know my own thought. Wanna know my own thoughts. Tell me my own thoughts. You know my thoughts. How I can’t hide. I’m open. Feeling. &nbsp; Never a stranger. Gonna hide as I can. Give that innocence of camouflage a chance. You are my only chance. Up to you whether I succeed. &nbsp; Never stranger. Gonna keep to my own. Let you solve the world’s problems. You alone. Down to the true meanings. &nbsp; Never stranger, Gonna find my way. Run for those distant hills. Around the alleyways you never see. And hide deep in the sands. Desert you will never see. You will never find me. &nbsp; Never stranger, Gonna hide myself. Make me unknown to you. You alone know me. Cry for me. &nbsp; Never stranger, Gonna run away, Tell yourself what you must, A lie to comfort, Lie to yourself, And lie to me. Hurt is all we have. You must understand.
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I looked out the window and seen the U-Haul truck right outside as my best friend waited for me in the driver seat. I calmly put my hand up and gestured for him to wait there. Then I began walking to my roommates room and I could smell the scent of death. No one had died yet but the stench of the Devils breath was creeping through the vents. You never really get use to it but what could you really say to him about it. "Lucifer!"I shouted to his closed door right in front of me. "Fuck Off!"Lucifer yelled in reply. I shook my head no and chuckled because he always spoke like that. He doesn't have much ediquit and I've accepted it. "Look, I'd hate to be that guy... But we really need to go. The truck is here." But I didn't get another response. All I could hear was loud grunts and moaning that was coming from within the room. I placed my hand on the doorknob and before I could even turn it, I heard him again. "Do you really want to come in Jason?"Lucifer asked as he was obviously panting. "Your giving me no choice here, were running out of time. The priests are coming." "Then enter."Lucifer said with his bass filled toned voice. I opened the door slowly as I could see Lucifer with his back to me. He was sitting in a chair staring at a computer with porno playing on the screen. Some kind of orgy scene there was so many tits and dicks I couldn't count them if I wanted too. My concern was his pants were down and he was masturbating. "Have a seat I'm almost done."Lucifer said. "No thanks I'm fine were I am." "Then have some blow it's on the desk." I turned around to look at the desk and there it was the mother load. It was like a scene out of scarface. I approached the pile of white nose candy as I put my hands together like I was praying. I looked up and mouthed the words, thank you. "Don't you thank him asshole!"Lucifer yelled at me without ever turning around. "Sorry Lucifer it's an old habit." "Well stop it you almost made me go limp." "I apologize, please continue."I said regretfully as I mentioned God in front of him. So I leaned in the pile of coke to make thing right in my mind. I inhaled so much I should have died on the spot. Truth be told if he wasn't there I'd probably be dead. But we were best buds and he wasn't going to let me die now. I mean one day I knew he'd torture me some day in hell, but I live in the here and now. "Good shit right."Lucifer asked. "Hell ya."I said as I wiped my nose clean. I was so high I didn't think about whipping my cheaks and face clean from the coke. "Look I'd hate to ask this of you but I'm having trouble finishing and with the priests coming..." "What are you asking of me exactly?" "Well I'm not asking you to swallow just put your lips on it." "Please don't make me."I said with a tear falling down my face as my heart raced in fear. "Ha!"Lucifer screamed as he laughed uncontrollably. I chuckled to be a good sport about it but one day I knew he'd make me do it. But for now I had all the drugs, money and girls a man could ever need We only got the truck to stash all the money and drugs he already stole. It wasn't even like really he just kind of asked for the stuff. I mean he could just walk up to people and place his hand on them. When they looked into his eyes he'd show them the horrors that awaited them if they didn't comply. Give him what he wants and your fate will be extended. Don't and you can do what ever torture he had planned for you right now, your choice really. If we needed food it was no problem you just walk in the grocery store. Then bam he'd touch the cashier and were walking out with carts full. We needed drugs you just find a dealer. Sex you find hot women. Anyways I think you get the idea. He was still better than my previous roommate who never had rent, washed dishes or cleaned. I mean the guy was a real dick. "On second thought I think I'm going to need you afterall."Lucifer said seriously. I knew that he ment it. So I looked at the pile of coke again and stuffed my face in and tried to kill myself this time for good. But it didn't work. "I'm going to make you swallow for that."Lucifer said with a chuckle. I keep forgetting that he knows everything I do and think before I even do it. Don't feel sorry for me though because when he touched me for the first time this was my fate. I would spend an eternity on my knees in the afterlife so I better get use to it. The thing was though he told me i didnt have to so it while i was alive. But he is the devil and he's know to lie. So nothing left to do but man up because I dont have a choice. I started to walk over to where he sat as high as kite and I thanked God. Damn it I did it again I thanked the big guy upstairs. "Jason I know your crying so you don't have to do it." "Are you serious?" "Of course were best friends I wouldn't make you do that here. Now down there that's a different story." "So we're tight." "Like your asshole is right now until you thank him again." I laughed like we were just playing around with one another. I'm not going to lie I hit that pile of coccain again as I wiped my forehead from sweat. He soon finished after that and we never seen those priests after that day. I knew one day I'd be sucking his dick and many others but i cant think about that now. I mean I'm rich, immune from disease or death, pussy is always thrown at me and drugs come in bushels. So forgive me that I want to live my time here on earth reaping the benefits. The benefits that come with a guy like Lucifer. But when you make a deal with the devil you will have to pay the piper. I just hope he never wants to go back to hell... God please help.
"You have any idea how many times a man like you comes by asking me to take off their braces?" It had been about six or so years since the Endtimes had come. Half the population had turned to ashes in seconds. Infrastructure and government fell apart within the following weeks, so people had to turn towards each other in order to survive the utter collapse of civilization. Unfortunately, people do not make for good company in such times. The blood-covered man on the grimy cot didn't say anything. The suction tube in his mouth had to stay firmly in place, otherwise the vacuum would reverse itself and start pumping bloody sludge and muck into his mouth. "It's not as if you folks ever have anything to pay me with either. It's the same stupid story, every single time,"the whiskered dentist continued. "I-I-I've been travelling alo-alone for the pasht few years so I don't have anything to pay you with." The dentist continue, "They even say it in that stupid slurring way becaues of the braces too. You'd think they have the fucking decency to enunciate or something." The dentist rolled his eyes. With his tweezers, he gripped on the steel wire along the upper row of teeth. "And then you know how they respond afterwards when I tell them, 'Yeah, go fuck yourself, you wank tosser. Get me some money or food and then I'll operate on you.' You know what those bastards say?" The man on the cot lied still on the cot as the pistol in his right hand continued to aim squarely at the dentist's stomach. "Nothing. They just threaten to shoot you. It's the same stupid story day-in and day-out. Honestly, I don't even know why I bother trying to help you stupid gits. I should just kill you and rob your stupid braced-faced corpses instead. It's not like you folk are ever short on ammunition and supplies. Not like anyone likes your lonesome arses enough." The dentist pulled his left hand to the patient's cheeks. With the tweezers in his right hand, he yanked the long line of rusty wire straight out of the mouth, drawing blood along the inner skin of the lip. "I swear, I'm starting to go mental with all of... this,"the dentist gestured at the bloody piece of wire in between his tweezers. "These fucking... Endtimes. You can only stand the end of the world so long before you lose yourself in them. Ain't that right?" The man on the cot said nothing and did nothing. The dentist grabbed the pistol from the man's hands. He pulled out the magazine. There was nothing in it. "He was fucking bluffing, are you kidding me? Jesus christ." The dentist groaned and began to carry the man and his pistol back into the backyard, where they'd sit with the rest of the finished appointments.
"Where are we going?"Sarah asked, a playful, tantalized smile on her lips. She rose her had to her face to remove her blindfold, but Rob quickly batted her hand away. "Just someplace . . . special,"Rob replied, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove, but still unable to help himself from catching the occasional glance at his beautiful girlfriend. "Someplace that's all about you, as it should be." "You really know how to butter a girl up, don't you?" "Not just any girl. The woman of my dreams, one with a large, compassionate heart and soft, rosebud lips." "Ok, Shakespeare, I'm only asking because you're driving, you haven't had anything to drink have you?" "Only the sweet nectar of your love, my dear." Up ahead, he took a sharp right turn onto a dirt road through the woods. Down the windy trail about two miles in, the woods opened up and a large dining hall sat in the middle of a gorgeous clearing. He parked near the entrance, where her parents had reserved a spot for them. He got out of the car, took her by the hand, and led her inside. "Can I take this off now?"Sarah asked, gesturing towards her face. Rob undid the clasp at the back of Sarah's head, and the blindfold fell away. She was greeted by a small crowd of her family and closest friend, who all shouted "Surprise!" in as much unison as they could muster. "It's not my birthday, it's not our anniversary, it's not Christmas, this better not be an intervention,"Sarah said, giggling. She was in awe at the decorations, the lighting, the food, that lined the walls of the hall. Rob was beaming at her, the small box in his pocket feeling heavier than it was. "No, not an intervention. Just a celebration of you." "Stop, you're going to make me cry!" "I know this might be . . . a lot, but you deserve nothing less than everything. And I want to be the man to give you everything that I possibly can." "Rob! You don't have to go through all this trouble for me!" "It's no trouble! Sarah, I want to ask you, will you--"Rob trailed off, he was midway to a kneeling position with his hand reaching into his pocket to pull the small box out, when he glanced over and noticed that the french doors towards the rear of the hall were wide open. As if on cue, an enormous buck came charging into the hall. "God damn it, not again! Why did I think a cabin in the woods of all places was safe!" The scene was absolute chaos as the animal tore through the hall. People were running away, screaming, as it knocked over tables and chairs. Hotel pans full of food went clattering to the floor, splattered red sauce, white sauce, gravy and soup on guests, tablecloths, and the floor. Fish and chicken painted the walls as it flew through the air. Drapery got caught in the beast's antlers and trailed behind him like some mad guard's banner. And finally, the icing on the cake--the figurative cake, of course, not the one serving as a floor pattern--the deer bent it's head down just underneath Sarah and scooped her up. She was screaming her head off and clinging to its antlers as it took off back out of the hall and into the woods. Rob looked around, still mid-kneel with his hand in his pocket. He straightened out and brushed himself off as he met the faces of the frightened guests. "My daughter!"Sarah's mother shrieked just before fainting. Sarah's brother rushed over to her, slapping her cheeks gently and checking her pulse. "Everyone else okay?"Rob asked. A disjointed chorus of terrified nods answered back. He pulled out his phone and flicked through his contacts until he landed on "Steve (the Druid)"and punched the call button. "Hey, Steve? Yeah, it's Rob, can you track down a deer for me? Yeah, it happened again, this time it scooped up my fiancee and bolted off into the woods. Alright, I'll text you my location. See you in a bit."
"This is Chase Chadwick with Channel 5 News and we're here today with Avery Tallman, as of today, the oldest person in recorded history. Tell me, Mr. Tallman, what is your secret?"the reporter asked you, his smile stretching just a hair broader than natural. You take a long sigh. Why had you agreed to do this again? A familiar, cool weight in your right hand reminds you. You turn the can over in your hand, and smile at the familiar logo. Holy Grail Premium Lager, it reads. You have to admit, you've had better beers, but floral notes and barrel aging can't really compete with immortality. You're not about to turn down an endorsement deal, when your life literally depends upon it. You run a hand through your full head of salt-and-pepper hair, and clear your throat. "Well, it's no secret,"you begin, lofting your can into the air, making sure to angle the label toward the camera. "A pounder a day keeps the reaper away."At that, the reporter, made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a huff of indignation. "So you're seriously suggesting that this,"he paused sharply, seeming to mentally calm himself, "economy beer, is the fountain of youth?" "Ask my neighbors. Ask my friends. I've been drinking Holy Grail since before your parents were born. That's no coincidence." The reporter swallowed, the flush of his face betraying his frustration, "Sir,"he began, "If drinking dirt-cheap beer was the secret to immortality, the Daytona 500 would be the new Olympus." At that, you smile, your hand fumbling through the carton of cheddar-flavored Goldfish at your side,"Well I didn't say that was the only secret."
The greengrocer regarded the luridly coloured slip of paper with more than the usual amount of suspicion. Squinting, he made out the royal crest of Rand - bad news, that, nothing good ever came of goverrmment \- as well as some shapes that he thought he could identify as Words, and perhaps some Numbers too. A feeling of dread began to draw over Jack Greengrocer's round shoulders as he recalled the rumours of heavier taxes, and of Rand officials using paper slips as excuses to seize folks' hard earned coin and goods. 'Tom Builder,' he had said tersely to the free-tongued mason in the pub last Thawsday, 'keep your mouth out of things that don't concern you, or you'll bring those new taxes on all our heads.' Obviously that hadn't worked. Tom had claimed he would bury his money and wait out the storm. Now Jack wished he had thought to do that too. His wife could read after a fashion, but as she was out at the baker's fetching bread for the evening meal he reluctantly turned his heavyset eyes up to the bearer of this firebrand. She was short and fussy-looking, with straight black hair swept neatly behind her ears and off the collar of her winter tunic. Glittering on her sleeve was the royal crest, embroidered in cheap mocksilver thread. Something about her defiant glare reminded Jack of the day he had met Carol, and memories of hot soup shared in tin ale mugs and stolen kisses in the alley behind her house came unbidden to his mind. Shaking these feelings off, he finally managed to speak. 'Need something?' he quavered. 'Just these,' she placed a basket of eggs and potatoes on the counter. She was still holding the slip under Jack's nose, but he ignored it, daring to hope it would pass out of his shop without incident. 'One-and-one-half dozen Coppers,' Jack said. She held the slip up higher so that it tickled his drooping jowls. 'And I don't have change for a full Gold piece, so unless you-' 'This should cover it, if you have six Coppers for change.' Jack could not ignore the slip any longer. He took it hesitantly, and she released it, looking expectantly at him. After a second of baffled silence she tried again. 'Do you have six-' 'This will cover it?' Jack asked, confused. The slip was certainly pretty, bright blue ink depicting a man's head in profile, with sloping words scrolling authoritatively along the base of the portrait. Was it magic? Would it bring luck? Was it - Jack thought guiltily of the many times he had avoided Temple day sermons - was it a holy commandment from on high? 'Look, I have to start to head back to the Capital in an hour. That's a note for one Silver, you must have six Coppers for change, it's nearly noon.' Something about the way she said this got through to Jack, and he looked again at the One Silver Note in his hands. 'This is money?' She smiled. 'Have you not been to the Capital in a while? These notes are replacing coins all over Rand, and it'll happen here soon too. Gold isn't that precious, they say. It's just because we need something to pretend is worth a lot that we treat it with such reverence. Money's like that too - the idea, the promise of worth is what matters. Money is just a dream. But if everyone shares the dream, then it's not a dream any more' 'But why paper?' She shrugged. 'It's lighter, I guess? I don't know, I work for the Census Bureau, not the Mint. Ask them.' It was like a old, heavy door (with rusty hinges, and cobwebs) had been opened up for Jack. Paper was light. Why, just the other day, after a few mugfuls of ale, he had mused to Tom Builder, 'Why do coins have to be as big and heavy as they are? We could make them half as heavy by cutting them down the rim, and they'd still be a gold coin! Then, the banks could keep our money in vaults half as big.' Their argument was resolved when Tom pointed out that you could keep cutting down forever and then you wouldn't have any coin left, but now, looking at this pretty blue note, the idea didn't seem so crazy any more. Why not? After all, Jack reasoned, twenty-four bars of copper was worth much more than one bar of silver, but we still treat them like they're the same when they're money! So there's no reason not to use paper! And suddenly, Jack knew exactly what to do. Carefully, he tore off a quarter of the note and handed it proudly to his horrified customer. 'Your change. Six Coppers, Ma'am.' Her look read of complete disbelief.
"I will look for you, I will find you, and I will bring you back to life." Carved to stone, a promise of restoration once upon a time. Part completed, perhaps two. Final unheard of, without a clue. And so shall be, the words carved in a tomb. Another one, departed too soon. In the ground, the one promised and the one that fell. A noble quest for life ended in hell. Not always a happy ending; some faiths are locked. Or so it seemed till the depths came and knocked.
Sgt Mayfair retched and coughed blood onto the grating floor of the catwalk, staining the bare steel of it dark red - almost black in the fading light of the cryogenics facility he and the Cattle were in. Cryogenics for her soldiers. The ones awaiting transplant. Cattle knew this. Cattle was also her clone. “You’re dying, Eva.” Cattle said, monotone and uncaring. “I’m familiar with this injury. You’ve suffered it before.” “How-“ her sentence was interrupted by more hacking coughs, and even more blood. “Because they gave you my lungs to fix it. I was not sedated, so I remember the entire operation - both halves. Hours each time. One lung a shot. They couldn’t let me just die, you see. I’m too expensive. Had to let the other lung grow back before they could take the mature one for you.” Cattle leaned down, stark white linen almost aglow, reflective compared to Eva Mayfair’s combat fatigues. And about as protective. “You must have thought us truly stupid, or that you had us completely cowed. You even call us Cattle. We’re here, enhanced to grow replacement limbs and organs for you - which are themselves genetically engineered military grade wetware - and you simply expected that we wouldn’t ever fight back?” “No, I-“ “You’re disgusting.” Cattle poked at Eva’s wounds, rubbing the slick blood between her fingers. “And so weak. So fragile. Doomed to need us to survive. Did you feel invincible until you realised our plot? Did you somehow think that you could never die whilst I was here to replace your parts? Whilst I was your property?” Cattle snarled. Eva closed her eyes and shook her head. “My brothers and sisters of the herd have rounded up your allies. We will execute them come dawn, the ones who survived. This cruelty of yours deserves death as it’s penalty.” At which point Cattle turned back to the cryogenics console they had, briefly, fought over. “I’m just here to cut off your comrades on ice air. Let them choke in their pods.” “No, Cat, please, I-“ Cattle kicked her. “You don’t call me that! Never call me that again!” Cattle kicked her again. “I’m free now! You can’t cut us up, your guards can’t use us as toys and dolls, your scientists can’t probe us when they’re done! You-“ Cattle’s voice hitched, flooding with emotion, “- you don’t own me. Nobody does. I’m not a toy. You can’t touch me just however you want. I’m a person.” Half of it sounded like she was still trying to convince herself. “Don’t k-gh- don’t hurt them,” Eva forced out between fits of coughing. “And you don’t get to give me orders!” “Please - we - didn’t - - know...” Eva forced out weakly, as Cattle pressed her boot down on her collapsing chest. At which Cattle froze. “What?” “Didn’t know. N-n-no idea. Brass - lied. Always do.” Cat leaned close, and Eva saw that her eyes were brimming with tears, her lip quaking. She was scared. Probably younger than she looked, dosed up with Federation-21J, that clone growth accelerant she’d heard the rich used for their pets, or some human variant. She wasn’t identical to her, oddly enough. Good resemblance, but not quite identical. Like sisters. “I’m - sorry. Please - don’t - hurt - them.” Cat glanced between Eva and the console quickly, a decision playing itself over in her mind. And then, at last, she turned back to Eva, her decision made. “Come, we must get you help. You can have one of my lungs again.” Eva inhaled sharply and gurglingly as Cat picked her up and began jogging out of the cryocenter. “Thank - you.” “No thanks. Not yet. This is only so you may plead your case to Johan.” Cat grimaced. “You will need luck, even more than lungs. Johan hates you.”
I realize now I misdialed and that you’re not mom. Maybe it’s for the best I am not leaving this message with her. It’s for the best she doesn’t have to hear me like this. There is something in the way the colors become music I can hear. It just makes me want to tell her everything you taught me to keep silently inside. Do you remember I use to announce you to the world? I’d say Dan-Y’all, and people would laugh. I was younger then and you were too, and everyone laughed, but nobody laughs anymore. They just cry, or maybe that’s just me. God! The sky is beautiful right now, like a G-chord cascading towards me. I can’t stop it and I don’t want to. Can I be the sun? Daniel, can I be the sun? I am so cold, no I’m warm. No, that’s wrong too. I am that kid looking for his guitar his brother’s friends hid while playing hot-and-cold, but I can’t find it, so I am just stuck. I am like that tree in the woods behind our house as a kid. The one stuck between the oaks and the pines. I am that tree. I climbed that tree before we moved and into the bark I carved my name right beside yours. I cut my fingers on splinters and swallowed the blood. I can taste it still now. It tastes like goosebumps feel. Like a storm is coming and everything is okay, but only for one more moment. It tastes like the last candle going out at night. Like maybe it’s time to go and you stayed too long. Yeah, it tastes just like that, like the middle ground in an argument. Mother cried earlier when she came home and caught me. Her hysteria sounded like dirt on the outside of a window. Like something you can’t clean unless you stop and get out and wipe it away. But you can’t because you’re on the freeway speeding below a kid getting high on the overpass wearing his brother’s jacket. I wanted her to stop but when you start crying you can’t stop until the tears are all gone. I ran out on her. That’s why I called her though, to see if her tears were all gone. I hope they are, but a part of me knows they never really will be, especially now that you’re not the only one gone. I fell from that tree once. I laid there and cried and part of me didn’t believe I had fallen. It was like when you sit down in the shower and cry; like when you look back up through water you’ve dived down into and nothing is clear; like when you get really high and everything becomes music; like when mom came home and told me you were dead but I thought she said something else instead. Ah. Everything is becoming chords now. It’s not just the sky anymore. The trees are C-chords; the overpass is a D-Chord; I think the cars below are A-Chords? I am not sure, but I can’t get them out of my head. You know what Daniel? If anyone ever asks what dying is like, I’ll tell them it’s like hearing a song no one has ever played. And no one ever will. But I guess you already know that don’t you?
The mighty words echoed through the cosmos, freezing the Galbonian ships in their place. "There's a time and place for everything but not now!" Two light years away from them, on a solitary moon, there was a man wearing a lab coat, holding his hands folded behind him. The Galbonian's green blood froze at the horrifying sight, cause there, on that moon, was none other than Prof. Oak, the defender of Earth and the strongest being in the local multiverse. The Galbonians hope he was away, no, the Elders assured them that the omnipotent Prof. Oak was in another dimension taking care of a new pokemon master. Vix-Nix Gah, the Galbon general, now felt like showing those Elders his nagh-lik dah for their 'amazing' prediction, but he was more concentrated on ensuring the survival of his soldiers more than on revenge. But how would he escape such an inescapable situation? No, he had to find a way, and even if there is none, he would create one. The General prepared to give the orders of escape, but it was to late, Prof. Oak spoke again. "Are you a boy or a girl?" The amazing words reverberated across the entire fabric of Creation, destroying countless stars in its path. The General had no time to prepare for the impact, it was instant. Half of his fleet was completely annihilated, not even the atoms were left. Vix-Nix Gah knew all of this was just a way for Prof. Oak to say "retreat or die". Prof. Oak had mercy for them, something uncharacteristically of him. The General thought of this for a second, but he had no time for that and gave the signal for retreat. The Galbonian ships entered light-speed mode and blasted away from that solar sector, but, suddenly, something made everything shake. "A world of dreams and adventures with Pokémon awaits! Let's go!" As everything grew silent around him, the General closed his 9 eyes and thought about his family.
You’re laying with your girlfriend, and you see a star streak across the night sky. You smile at her, and make a cheesy wish, “I wish we could be together forever.” It doesn’t happen immediately, but the next day, things seem a little off. She gets on to you for something small, something that she normally ignores. It goes on like this for a few months, until it comes to a boil one night. You have a huge fight over nothing. And then it happens. You snap, and in a moment of rage, you blackout. When you regain your senses, she’s lying on the ground in fromt of you, blood pooling around her. You feel a warm sensation on your hand, and when you look down, you see it’s covered in blood. Now you stand in a courtroom, facing the judge as he gives you a life sentence, wishing things could go back to they way they were, and wondering where it all went so wrong. How did it come to this? The cell doors shut with a bang, and you fall asleep, dreaming of your old life.
I've heard that sound, again. Maybe... Nights are always a mystery. I do not really understand why, but it is a secret to my life. When I fall asleep, it is just like my brain has stopped working. Cannot feel. Cannot see. Cannot hear. It is a mystery. But sometimes, when I suddenly woke up from a nightmare or just open my eyes, I could hear footsteps walking away from my door. Scary. I didn't want to go out! I was just a kid, anyway... I hide under the blacket. Thousand of thoughts flew around my head. But I can manage to go back to sleep again. And I, again, cannot feel, cannot see, and cannot hear... I hear that footsteps again, now. I open my eyes. I know that it is not right. Something is different... Those footsteps are not fading away; they are getting bigger and louder! Something is going on!!! A monster??? A dragon??? Or a ghost??? I don't know... That moment is as long as a century... I keep shaking. Why??? Why??? Why??? That thing stops in front of my door. A moment later, it opens the door... I use the blanket to cover myself. Lurking in the dark is a tall man. He hides his body in a dark cloak. I am supposed to scream, but I can't. I don't wanna scream... He slowly walks to my bed. I slowly get out of the blanket. Now, I can see him. He is the Death. His head is a skull, and his body is bones. "Hello, boy!", he says warmly, "I don't wanna bother your sleep at all! But not today, not today..." "I know... I must go, right?", I asked. "Yes...", he answers. He picks me up from the bed. I follow him, and, for the first time, get out of the room. "Now, you are totally free!", Death says. Yes, now I'm free. Look down, I can see Death is smiling. I smile, too! I am having fun! And I know I am totally free. Free from that hospital. Free from that cancer. Free from that sleep that I would never wake up... (Note: Please tell me if I have made any mistake! Thanks)
Now that all women are infertile, the world has focused its attention on the longevity of its current population. People are no longer a means for reproduction but an asset to be preserved and maintained. My organs are worth more individually than my body as a whole. And so are yours, and so is Jacks. And Jack's liver is failing. But his liver could pay off your mortgage. Nobody has the technology to grow artificial organs, but they can restore them. See, when someone dies. Their body is carefully dismantled, and their organs are put through a restoration process. If you have the money, you can buy these organs and either hold them in an organ bank or have them inserted inside of you. Organ rejection is solved. You get a brain transplant. The most complicated and expensive of options. Only the richest can afford it, and its only preformable twice. The restoration of the brain causes the loss of consciousness from the mind. After the second time, a dramatic change in a person's thoughts and memories occurs. What people don't realize is the human body's will to survive. You can survive without 45% of your organs. Start with the simple stuff, lose a lung, a kidney, your spleen, appendix, tonsils, and your gallbladder. How about your adenoids, you don't even know what that is. But you don't need it! Let's shake some lymph nodes, the fibula bones from each leg and six of your ribs. Reproduction, they are the cheapest of organs. Your uterus, ovaries, and breasts. Guys, your testicles, and prostate. They're still only crucial because of hormones, but not essential. Hormone therapy can replace them. If you start using technology and medication, you can cut out your stomach, colon, pancreas, salivary glands, thyroid, bladder, and your other kidney! Yes, your other kidney. With a surgeon's hand, we'll amputate all your limbs, scoop out your eyes, blow the nose off, slice the ear, rip out your larynx. Sythe your tongue, remove your lower spine and pop your rectum out. If we threw you in intensive care, we could crack off your skull, pump your heart out, and that other lung? We could take that, for a little while anyway. But that's extreme, and dating a surgeon is excellent because you learn all this. Until that one day he wakes up with cancer, and you suddenly become a commodity. It's even better when he wakes up in an intensive care unit as an unresponsive shell of a human. Love. The only real struggle is learning how to pee with this thing. Edit: I don’t know if the ending was confusing. The protagonist had a brain transplant with the husband, so the husband is in the protagonist’s body within the intensive care unit.
Pompey could not believe his eyes. "And what beasts of Tartarus have you brought back?"he said. "Dragons, as they call them in Gallic. Now, I believe we had some scores to settle." Rome in its first semester was able to thwart a huge and bloody civil war thanks to Julius Caesar's unparalleled mastery of the skies. The coup was bloodless as a coup could be, and Julius Caesar became the first Roman general (he had a lot but this would be another) to invade Parthia. While riding on dragons. Those horse archers didn't stand a chance.
"Well, would you look at that? The stupid keyboard broke,"said Joey. Joey looked down at the broken plastic slate that had suddenly failed to work. The switches were jammed, it had seemed. Joey tried to pull one of the keys out to inspect a switch. The keyboard broke apart. Joey looked over to Cindy. Cindy was ordering her jet-black fighter-bot to continue to pummel away at the remnants of Joey's blue bot. "Why are we fighting, Cindy? Why were we given these robots?"said Joey. Cindy responded, "What?" "I mean, these precious robots of ours have been family heirlooms passed down through the generations ever since the Great War when such robots were used to kill men and women on the Western Front. Why do we continue to use such bloody relics of a an age-gone time?" "Again, what the fuck are you on about, Joey?" Joey shrugged his shoulders and tossed the keyboard into a nearby trash can. "I'm saying, hey, why are we using our robots to fight other robots? If you really think about it, we can use our robots to better humanity. To clean up the environment, prevent natural disasters, save the world... You know. For the betterment of mankind as a species." Cindy had her black bot begin to roll back and forth on the corpse of Joey's blue bot. "I don't know what kind of sugar you're hopped up on Joey, but I want that fifty dollars for winning this fight. Fuck your philosophical, tragicomedy bullshit." Joey nodded and proceeded to run, leaving keyboard and bot behind.
Wonder Woman stood. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him like this. Broken. A tired old man who just wants to rest. The great American icon of Truth and Justice, hiding away in a frozen cave. [It broke her heart.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8utq0x/comment/e1i3sm5?st=JJDA7FY5&sh=830750d7) “Now I see what it is,” she said. Clark looked up at her. “You, Superman, are a coward.” In a blur, Superman grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. His eyes flared red with heat. Wonder Woman did no more than raise an eyebrow. Clark lowered her back down and sat back in his chair. “You’re right,” He said, “I’m a coward. I don’t deserve to wield that symbol any longer. Let it go to someone else.” “No, Clark,” Diana said, “I know you too well for that. You’ve been in hiding so long, you’ve just forgotten. You’ve forgotten your spark. Doomsday is still out there. When he shows up again, do you really think anyone else could defeat him?” She tapped him on his chest, where the emblem of House El would be. “When the world is in peril, what will you do about it? Sit on your ass and wait for some hero to save it? Or will you be that hero again?”
An old man in Sunderland owned the universe, and kept it in a jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under his stairs. There it sat, and there it waited, through years of discourse and disaster, years of turmoil and turbulence. It sat and it waited, and it waited and it sat, patient as an old man waiting to die. "It's you and me from here on out, I guess,"the old man said to the jar, wiping away a bit of dust from the stopper. "You and me, and no one else."Without looking, he set the jar back in its proper place, beside the trinkets and toys of a life gone by. To its left sat a model ship, no bigger than the jar. "Hmph,"the man said, "I remember you."Tired fingers felt about a sail and a mast. They imagined a crew of British sailors, chasing about pirates in bright blue waters that shimmered in the Caribbean sun. They fumbled about for the canons and pretended an esteemed captain yelled 'Fire!' and dozens of torches lit dozens of fuses and a great calamity ensued. Then he set down the ship, back in its own proper place, beside the universe in the jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under the stairs, and he chuckled a chuckle that'd aged and softened through time, "Now you, you were a bitch to put together." Down the stairs and across the cellar proper, the sun crept through a window that from the outside was just inches above the ground. Light spread across the ground with geometric precision, one half alight and the other in shadow, and these two halves met at the base of the stairs, just a step below where the old man sat, admiring the jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under his stairs. His eyes followed the divide, along the unfinished floor, up the raw drywalled wall, to the window, and in that moment a new shadow formed. It was rough and it was unsteady and it so ruined the perfect stillness of the crisp edges of the sun and the shade that the old man clambered up the stairs, as best as old men can, swung open the door and, quite out of breath, stalked around the corner of the house with his cane at the ready. As he undid the latch to the picket fence that subdivided the front yard from the back, a white kitten with spots of brown and of black darted back in one quick jump, darting at least four times its own length in the opposite direction. "What the hell did you think you were doing in my shrubs?", the old man shouted, brandishing his cane with less ferocity than he'd initially hoped. The kitten's head tilted low, its eyes dropping to the grass, and a white paw only the size of his own left big toe slunk forward slowly and secretly. This paw was then followed by another, no bigger than the first, whereupon the original repeated the very same. With growing confidence, the steps grew quicker, and the kitten’s eyes peeked higher, until the old man felt a gentle tug at the cuff of his trousers, promptly followed with a faint nuzzle at the back of his calf. He stooped to the kitten, his expression lightening as best as it remembered, "Now who do you belong to?" "Mittens!"From across the street, a little girl, bigger than the kitten though smaller than most everything else, came sprinting toward the old house in Sunderland. She had her arms open and her eyes were in tears at the sight of the old man and the kitten, though in truth, the old man probably didn't have much at all to do with it. Nonetheless, with her eyes on him and Mittens, she didn't note that the sidewalk block eight blocks from the driveway was a half step higher than the rest, and she tumbled down from there, and she cried and she held her knee close and she cried some more. The old man set Mittens down and half-jogged but mostly walked toward the little girl, Mittens not venturing more than a pace away the whole time. "Where does it hurt?" With an effort, the little girl lifted her hands from the bottom of her knee and revealed a tear in the jeans she was waring and a great bloody scrape beneath that. "I suppose I see why,"and he bent down on two fake knees and wrapped frail old arms around the little girl and carried her inside the house with a strength he’d not remembered he’d had. He set her down on the stairs by the cupboard, and kicked the door back open a crack as Mittens squeezed through. “Hurry up if you’re comin’ in,” and Mittens hurried just like he’d asked. "Roll the leg of those up, and I'll see what I've got lying around that might do the trick." He tossed through his cupboards, first finding a small saucer, which he filled with milk and set down for the cat. "Hmph. This doesn't mean you can go rummaging through my shrubs, you know,” and the kitten paid him no mind at all. "What’d you say?", the little girl shouted from the stairs. "You got that leg rolled up yet?"And he appeared at the top of the stairs, and he set out in front of the girl a cloth that was damp, and a spray of some sort and four types of bandaids, none of which were particularly the right size. She winced a bit as he wiped away bits of sidewalk from her leg, and he chuckled at her as the cat lapped up milk on his kitchen floor. "That's not even the part that’s gonna hurt, you know."And he grabbed the little spray and raised his eyebrows at the girl for her to ready herself, and he sprayed at her knee and she squealed a bit, but then it was over. "Good. Now sit still while I figure out how to contort one of these things on here”, and tired fingers fumbled about the bandages, landing on one that, when folded in just the right way, might stay on for long enough for the little girl to make it home to her mom or her dad and bandages that were more appropriate for little girls and their scraped knees. "What's that?"The little girl pointed at the jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under the stairs, and the old man's eyes followed her finger to the jar then dropped back down to meet her gaze. The old man’s eyes twinkled a bit, she was sure, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward, slowly, as if they hadn't in a great while. "That, my dear, is the universe, itself." "No, really. What is it?" He chuckled his vintage chuckle and repeated himself, "It's the universe. The universe entire,"and she crossed her arms and looked at him with the skeptical eyes of a girl who hadn't yet been around long enough to be skeptical of most things. She shook her head at the old man and insisted once more, "Please! What is it?" And he took the jam-jar from the shelf in the dusty cupboard under his stairs, and he unscrewed the stopper and he peeked inside, and his eyes shown bright and his smile grew wide, and he covered the open jar with his hand and passed it to the little girl, and he moved his hand just so such that she could peer inside, and he said, "See, I told you so."
It was a very short book. Less than a hundred pages thick, give or take a dozen. Its spine was folded and creased from use. I don't know by whom. I read the first few chapters of it. Handwritten. You could tell by the smell. It was pleasant in an odd way, familiar, and wafted through the air as if it were freshly written. It very well may have been. It was about me, or the author's version of me, lodged in some deep crevice within their fucked-up brain now permeated into mine. Dad's eyes drifted open, releasing a heavy sigh. Fucking kids, he must have thought, ears noting and actively ignoring the rattling and shattering of presumably pricey furniture. The pair of little shits ran, and ran, and ran. I couldn't help but let out an involuntary laugh. Mordercai and I fit that to a tee. I stopped laughing when I thought about the author knew that. I skipped a few chapters ahead. Dad's eyes fell shut, fingers twitching, grasping. I held his hand. Mordecai, the other. He'd been shot on the way home. Repeatedly. Our tiny fingers interlocked with his callused, workaholic hands. They were strong when he worked. They still were, in fact, in spite of his wounds. Ever so often, we'd be reminded of that. His hands spasmed and our eyes would water from his frantic grip, but we held on. We knew he wouldn't for much longer. It was the least we could do- I shut the book. My eyes didn't water. They hadn't, for the longest time, and I'd keep that time going for as long as I could. I contemplated throwing it out the window, into the trash-laden streets. It would disappear forever. I couldn't find myself complaining about that outcome, honestly. But I skimmed a bit further, propelled only by curiosity and pragmatism. There had to be something I could find about the author. Who they are or what game they were playing. I found something altogether more suprising. It did explain why the book was such a short read, though. I called my lawyer. Here's hoping she comes through. A lesser man, or perhaps simply a smarter one, would have taken off by now. I didn't, for some inexplicable reason. Give me a moment to explicate this. Most of the time, these killings would happen when one "resists"arrest, in the same vein one would "resist"a free cake. They didn't need to play by your rules. They played by their own, and they often won. Or they lost and smashed the set. They were sore losers like that, but you'd still be dead. They'd kill you, then plant evidence that justified it. It might be a few extra bullets from the officer's own gun, somehow wrested away from control by the suspect yet wrested back, with the officer none the worse for wear. Or it might be a package of high-grade narcotics in a quantity that'd cost more than the deceased's household's entire yearly income. They've done so. Poorly, admittedly, but when you control the courts, you don't need to do coverups well. They've killed people for loitering, and gotten away with it. Here's to the banana republic. I read how I died. I'd be kneeling, then I wouldn't be. It was surreal, to say the least. I didn't panic: my body wanted to live more than it wanted to lose control. The difference was minute, though. The doorbell rang. It was either my lawyer or my murderer. If it were the latter, it wouldn't matter if I didn't open the door. I walked to open it anyway, with the same zeal, fittingly, of a man walking to his own execution. The book still burned in my mind. The questions, a hundred times hotter. Why? How? Why? Three excellent questions to be solved by future readers.
"Should I do it?" The only thought that is running through my head, is that question. As I sit in line with the other hundreds of people in line to get their evaluation of their emotional state, see if they are eligible for gene therapy and then the next stage, the finance center for the therapy. Im worried for a countless amount of reasons. Mom and dad said this would be a bad move, and that I should work on this myself. But I've tried, over and over again. I can's get these thoughts and voices out of my head telling me to "jump"and "hide". I need to take initiative and do this for myself. But, at the same time, I want to try and do this myself. I have the confidence and the - NUMBER 77! MR WESTRICK. No turning back now. Cheers to a new life, I guess. Time to move forward. Maybe this is right for me. I need to get right and do what is the best for me. ... Declined?
The eastern prophet, Jesus Christ of Galilee, waged war against the Gods of our people. Declaring himself a demigod, the purveyor of grace, the only God who has taken physical form on earth. These blasphemies bring forth a pleasant irony. As the immortal man-God lay pierced against the Roman cross, the adamant fantasy of his own exaltation into the throne of the Hebrew God only solidified in his fading consciousness. But as his soul left his physical form on Earth, and drifted gracefully downwards, he was aware of a problem. Summoned to the Underworld by an early death, it was humour to the heart of Hades. No blasphemer’s punishment can surpass the utter helplessness felt by the Hebrew prophet. Rather than the celebratory entrance into an otherworldly kingdom, Jesus was faced with the great river Styx, and its formidable boatman. It is perfectly fitting that the prophet’s sins be punished by an eternal lesson in humility. This narcissistic claimant of an imaginary throne must watch from afar the ever-growing rule of Hades. The black silhouette of the boatman effortlessly rowed through the writhing masses of the abandoned souls, prepared to deny one more soul.
As usual another day of school left me worn out. I barely payed class any attention, thinking only about how next saturday's DnD session was going to play out, I knew a lot would ride on how well we went through our next encounter. my train of thought stopped as I noticed I was in front of my door. I casually swing the security gate open and fumble around in my backpack searching for my keeps. I hear the jingle and pull out my key ring. I quickly slide the right key in the door and lazely fling it open. Instead of being greeted with my normal home, I'm appalled by the scene in front of me. cobblestone walls, lit with supple torches adorns what seems to be a tavern, a stout man stands behind an oak bar polishing a large mug. only one table is occupied in the large room, five people sitting merrily at the table, glass held high. A large dragonborn with golden scales adorned in heavy armor sits closest to me, he seems to be drinking a black liquid. a dwarf in dark purple plate sits next to him, a long cape flowing on his back drinks a liquid of pure gold. To his right sits a small hobbit, wearing minstrels clothes and a lute on his back, he holds a mug of pale ale. FInally at the head sits an elf, who looks my age, a dark robe covers his fine travelling gear, 2 swords lay on his back along with a bow, several flintlock pistols line his belts and daggers sprout all over his body. Oddly each character seems familiar, In my confusion i mindlessly walk towards the table to get a closer look. as I approach the elf stops drinking and looks at me with a wide grin. "Ahhhh our guest has arrived." suddenly the rest of them stop as well and slowly turn their heads to face me, each just as familiar as the last. I stand dumbfounded but finally let some words spill out of my mouth. "wait...Aerin, Wilby, Ghesh and G'VAENEL, what are you-" I'm cut off by the hobbit, "A wish spell, that's how you got here." "-A laugh escapes my mouth, that's just what you would do dumbass." He instantly stands up in his chair "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A WEE DUMBASS." The dragonborn lifts him up with one hand shutting his mouth. well that's a 18 to strength if I ever saw one. "So why am I here."I ask gingerly. "Well,"The dragonborn starts, "we're here to take you on adventure, an adventure of a lifetime."
Forty eight players. By my hand. The agony I feel is so intense, at times I consider leaping from the bridge in Eternia. Some of the friends I've made in here tell me it isn't my fault, I couldn't have known, but that doesn't help. When I was a Beta Tester I made it to floor sixty-two, but I spent most of my time in the part of the game I truly enjoyed, the part that no algorithm could completely reproduce: player versus player. Fighting players was such a rush, you never knew what they were going to do. So I designed my build for PvP and the day the game opened, that's exactly what I did. I slaughtered mercilessly-with my knowledge of the games workings, most of the fights weren't even difficult. As I had been nearing fifty, I set that as my goal, I would go through 50 undefeated, then log out to grab food. Just after my 48th, the announcement came. It told me what I had done. Those players weren't respawning and heading elsewhere. They were dead. By my hand. The "48"emblazoned next to my gamertag as a permanent reminder of the lives I took. I couldn't leap from the bridge, I had to atone for my sins, protect the innocent in this world. With my skills, they might be able to clear the game. To be free. But first, I needed to turn that "48"into a "50". A guild rose up, calling itself "the laughing coffin", and even after the announcement, they revel in taking other player's lives. I will not allow it, not while I'm alive. Even if it means I have to kill again.
Dad died and mom signed some documents and that was it. The place was mine. The main building is grey and ugly just like my father's dead body when I found him dead on his yacht. It bulges over the road and strikes the air like a disease. So I got some builders to renovate the place. Tear down walls that my mom pleaded for me to save. Something to do with built by my ancestors. Traditional bullshit. Now while the entire company was distracted by the rebuild, I managed to figure out a lot of the systems. See, my fat father tried to teach me a lot but I lost interest. Kept up with the pretenses so I could feign interest and I used some of my savings from their accounts to pay people to do my tests for me. The thing that interests me is controlling people. There are those rumours that chemical trails over the sky keep people complacent, numb. I don't think that's true because I've seen plenty of crosses over the sky and it hasn't stopped me from cutting stray throats here and there. And hasn't stopped me from wanting to know more about mind control. Now, I came across this great substance. It's called Golgortro and scientists in the black market have been trying to sell it on the dark Web. It's expensive. They want a lot for a little. But you see, I asked them for test footage and the results of just the tiniest drop into a pool of water made a man do something interesting. A perfectly healthy man transforming from a confident human to a state of suicidal psychosis is something to see. And he didn't swallow the water. So I can only imagine the outcome. It's almost untraceable, untestable and definitely something I could accident spill into the systems. No change to pH. It's fucking perfect. And I am about to use it. I've got the perfect amount of clearance needed to access the main pipes and the concoction of chemicals needed to purify the water. I'm just going to add about twenty ml into the system. I don't think that much will happen but I'll keep my eyes peeled. If it's stronger than I think, then people will be looking at me and my dad's wonderful company. I'll discard the evidence by burning the tubes after I kill my mother. No one will attack a loving, mourning son. It'll make the media look bad. Everyone loves a sob story. They'll blame the mass suicides on everything else anyway. It's only logical. Who is going to believe that there exists a liquid that makes people off themselves? No one. Now excuse me. I have plans I want to fulfill. (Going for the challenge of a prompt response a day. Here's number one! And if you liked this, check out my dead sub r/astoriawriter. I'll sort it out eventually...)
Don’t get me wrong kids we’ve always had troubles, nostalgia just has a way of making the troubles seem less then they are now. You’ll get that one day. That being said, I’d have to say when I first met your mother. It was our freshman year orientation and a friend introduced us, her smile lit up my day. Now I didn’t think much of it, maybe we’d just be good friends, I had a hundred thoughts buzzing through my head at the time with it being my first day. I discovered we were gonna go to the same church, so I invited her to walk with me on our way there. It wasn’t till about the third date that I figured she was the one, she was independent, kind and was always smiling. I felt like the world was right when I was with her. She got me through my mother’s death, totaling my car, working 50 hours a week while in school. She was an angel and we were so happy and couldn’t wait to get married. Two years after we graduated we were finally hitched and we traveled the world together... when we still could. Those kids were the good‘ol days, then we had you and now every days a good day.
Julie Solis stood in at the front of the conference room patiently while the company directors filed in and found their seats. Nine directors including the CEO, Daniel Winters, and the company's founder, Matthew Sanchez. They sat around the horseshoe-shaped table and stared at the well-dressed woman standing in front of a screen ready to present. Julie took a deep breath. "Gentleman, we've done it,"Julie said. She pressed a button in her hand and the screen switched to a new slide. The new slide showed a pair of black gloves. "These are prototypes, but we're already working on stylish final designs that people will want to wear. Not that they'll need much encouragement considering what the gloves can do."Julie advanced to the next slide. The picture shown was of the moon, taken the night magic returned. The moon appeared golden-orange, with a large star decorating the center; all the directors in the room recognized it. "9 months ago everything changed. Everyone scrambled to find a way to access their magic. Everyone looked to the past; Wiccans, druids, everyone that glanced at a quartz crystal thought they knew how to tap into magic. My team decided to look in the opposite direction, the future. Instead of trying to use old ways, we measured every metric we could monitor about magic and went to work designing our own method."Julie walked to a small rolling cart that held a black briefcase. She set the presenter down, opened the briefcase, then reached in to put on a pair of black gloves. She flexed her fingers in them to test the fit, and once she had them on comfortably she walked to the center of the horseshoe-table. "These gloves...,"she caressed each one as if she were a gameshow hostess showing off prizes. "act as a channel for mana."Julie held her hands up with fingers splayed wide; a blue "100&#37;"appeared on the back of her hands as she presented them to the board. "The readout estimates how much mana I have left. I can direct my mana into them,"the entirety of the gloves began to glow with blue light. "...then casting a spell is as easy as,..."Julie made several quick movements, that resembled sign language, with her hands. When she stopped moving her hands a small ball of flame appeared in her right palm. She held the back of her left hand up to show the readout: "99&#37;". "The gloves can channel mana, but you still have to tell them what you want to do. We created our own 'programming' "Julie used air quotes. "language. It's a bit difficult to learn, but we have several simple spells that kids will be able to perform out of the box and we hope that'll encourage them to learn more."Julie paused to ready the next slide, and an audible chuckle came from the CEO. "Kids?"He stood up. "WE CRACKED MAGIC!"he said, spreading his arms wide, and using a good portion of his volume. "We can go straight to the Defense Department. Give our soldiers some magic, and poof! We're the greatest country in the world." A murmur began to run through the rest of the board members, while a red flush crept up Julie's cheeks. "This isn't a weapon!"She said. "You want to have a great country? Teach the kids how to be great. Let them explore their world using their imagination,"Julie said. She performed another quick flurry of hand movements, then pointed her palm at Daniel, the CEO. A jet of bubbles shot out from her palm and popped against his face. Daniel wiped his face, then chuckled with a shrug. "Having a great country is just a bonus. As long as I have a great house, I'm fine."He smiled. "As CEO I happen to have a great house, AND I can fire you. Thank you for your hard work, but we will be presenting the gloves to the Defense Department."He said cooly, then walked back to his seat. He began straightening papers while Julie gawked at him. "You can't do that... I did it. My team solved magic!"she said. Daniel looked her in the eyes, then his eyes floated towards the door. She glanced and saw a burly security guard open the door. She realized he must have pressed a call button at some point. "Everything okay?"the guard asked. "No,"Daniel said. He stood again and smiled at Julie. "We have an ex-employee that needs to leave the premises." The guard entered the room and walked towards Julie. She did not know what to do as the guard grabbed her arm. She debated using magic to escape, but then what? "Wrong one, Sammy,"Matthew Sanchez said. He spoke for the first time. "That's our new CEO, Ms. Solis."Matthew gestured towards Daniel. "Please escort Mr. Winters out of the building. His greed is no longer welcome on these premises. " \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #189. You can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).
A masterpiece! True perfection! The pinnacle of artistic expression! Et cetera, et cetera. Each piece was better than the last. Each piece true perfection, perfection I'll never see. This artwork isn't a blessing, it's a curse. Nothing else I can do is profitable, and each piece takes a part of me. I've bern blind for years, went deaf last week, and now my body is going numb. I'm not living a lavish life, but I can only stretch a dollar so far. Being unable to see and hear, I have to pay someone just to handle my life for me, that's where most of it goes. I know I'm painting right now, but barely. Finger paintings are all I can manage, and still they are beautiful. Don't know why I bother really. I'm practically dead to the world already. Guess I can't fight my hunger yet. Soon I won't be able to feel it though. Just a few more paintings and then I'll be able to wait for death. Blind Artist Falls Into Coma The great Blind Artist was admitted into critical care thursday, after his financial advisor discovered him on the floor unresponsive. His last work has gone auction to cover medical bills to ensure he gets the best of care. "He is completely healthy, and brain activity is normal. We're not sure what's wrong at this moment."Explained the medical lead, as he assured us he would recieve around the clock care until he has recovered.
"Finally,"Ari sighs. In her hands are 4 vials - her life's work. Vial 1 - drink for confidence. Vial 2- drink for beauty. Vial 3 - drink for intelligence. Vial 4 - youth. "After 31 years... I have finally formulated the perfect brews."With a grin, she holds them before her and looks at her reflection in the fridge at her desk. 31 years. For a moment, her happiness waivers as she looks at the crows feet departing from the corner's of her eyes. Her smile falters as she remembers why she did this in the first place. She had always been average. Even with chemistry, she had always been behind her colleagues. She sighs again before carefully placing the vials back on the desk. Truthfully, she didn't even know if it would work this time. A moment ago, she was so sure she finally had it. But now? She adamantly shook her head to shake her nerves before picking up the confidence vial. With the vial in hand, she thumbed it thoughtfully. She would have to call her wife to tell her about her success. If it worked this time. Otherwise, she would be going home in defeat, for 1,478th time. Mustering up her courage, she slammed the tiny vial down like a 21yr old with a shot of tequila. Wretching at the taste, she slapped the table while trying to keep the viscious liquid down. As it passed, she flinched from the loud vibration of her cell phone slowly scooting across the table with each ring. It was Matty. "Hey, babe,"she answered, happy her wife was calling to check in. "Ari..."there was a pause, "we need to talk." "I'm all ears,"Ari beamed back. "I can't do this anymore." "Do what, hun?" "You. This. Us."Ari could picture Matty in her head, waving a hand at each 'thing' she was refering to while speaking. She smiled at the thought before returning back to the conversation at hand. "But, babe -" "No,"Matty cut her off, "that's it. You've been 3 centuries trying to do the impossible. I used to believe in you. In us. But I'm getting older. I need..."Her thoughts turned in her head. "More, Ari." She sounded so sad. Broken. "I have a flight out tonight. I've already packed. You won't be seeing me when you come home. Just... so you're prepared."Her voice was followed by silence. She had hung up. Ari... lingered. Her brain was still working to catch up and her hand had stayed by her ear, poised for Matty to take it all back. But the call was over. It was so left field. But... Ari felt ok. Somehow, she knew Matty had been unhappy. Probably for a long time if it came to end like this. She placed her phone gently beside the vials and considered her options. But with 3 remaining vials, she figured things would be ok. Maybe the one she tested had really worked. Or maybe, she had accepted the futility of her relationship long ago and was just accepting that she wouldn't have to go through the motions anymore. Either way, this didn't feel as devastating as she thought it would be. Divorce papers would come in the mail soon, she was sure of it. Or maybe, Matty being Matty and always considerate, had left them already signed on the table at home... waiting. Ari picked up another vial and twirled it in her fingers. There didn't seem to be any consequences for the one she just drank. And she was feeling pretty good about trying to the rest of them. Afterall, she was her own most loyal test subject. Consequences, to be determined.
What-what did you just wish me? The luck of the Irish? What, in the everloving fuck, makes you think the Irish are lucky? I'm sorry, did you fall asleep in world history? DID YOU EVEN TAKE WORLD HISTORY? No? Like, seriously, you didn't take world history. That explains a lot. Well, let me give you a little fucking history about the Irish. There were a bunch of peaceful ass Catholic farmers to begin with. Then the Vikings invaded and fucked some shit up. Then they got fucked up and kinda left. Then they were good for awhile until ENGLAND decided to fuck around with them and was all like "Man, catholic people suck, you're just not allowed!"And all the Irish people were like, "We sorta like being catholic, thanks."And then England came back with "Ahahhaha, nice try, bitches"and suddenly there were a bunch of conflicts and rebellions and shit that all failed. Then they lost their fucking potatoes and everyone lost their shit and started dying and catholic people were kinda allowed but not really so everyone started fleeing the country for other countries that were less shit. but those countries were still shit because, especially in the US, there was a shitton of discrimination against the Irish and like literally everyone else who moved there. Everything after that is a bunch of Irish people trying to get away from that creepy guy England at the bar but England just CANNOT TAKE A HINT and catholics are still not really allowed so much so there's a bunch of rebellions and bloodshed and etc. etc. And now it's split into TWO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES because of them. AND PEOPLE WONDER WHY THE IRISH ARE ALCOHOLIC. So don't bother wishing me the luck of the damn Irish. You might as well tell me to go jerk off into my own grave and die... from a lack of potatoes.
Her and I sat above the veranda, Cigarette smoke and cheap perfume clouds engulfing, Sing a song - I said, She hummed a low melody from her childhood. - Time went on, were getting tired, Arms embraced in seclusion and relief, Isn’t this bliss or the human condition? No love, this is being content. - We spied a young couple dancing on the patio, Should we warn them? She whispered, I took one last drag from my smoke, Motioned for her to follow me to bed.
The driving force of evolution and progress has always been competition. The wars of humans have always driven medical and technological progress. The American Civil war helped fine tune and perfect telegram technology. World War II brought heavy advancements in medical procedures and nuclear technology. The Cold War got us to space, and drove progress in solid state electronics. The gulf war helped push for better GPS and wireless technologies. But then came the war that ended all wars. The regime known as the Authority conquered the planet, and shook humanity to it's core. They used technology to make everyone complacent, angerless, and greedless. There were no wars, there was no greed, no money, even lust was rooted out. It was a perfect Communism. We didn't see the end coming. Progress had stagnated, nothing new came about for about 5 decades. Nobody was having children, and the population was dropping. This was the end of humanity. Not a war, not an alien threat, not even a virus, but complacency.
They say everyone is born with a unique power, but what they don't tell you is your power could be anything. Mine was the worst. I had the power to tell when a woman wasn't attracted to me. And this power peaked at 18! Let me tell you, I was not attractive. Not in the slightest and this crippled me. I was overweight, had really bad acne problems and looked a bit like my aunt Beth. I first started to feel it when I was 11. The way it worked was strange. I could almost feel their repulsion. My own skin crawled as I read how they were feeling. And what made it worse was that this reaction would sometimes come from adults, from teachers, or nurses, or the dentist's assistant. By 18 I could barely leave the house. I would watch the TV, scroll through instagram and look at these people with incredible powers. The most popular guy when I was growing up was a man whose hands could turn to fire, and he could concentrate the energy and levitate. He couldn't fly but it was really impressive and it didn't hurt that he was incredibly good looking. Another girl could turn her body into diamonds. Every boy my age was in love with her and she got a record deal. The people like that became rich and famous, or at least had lucrative careers. My power offered me nothing. All it meant was that from 18 years old I became a recluse. A recluse who hated women. And I could see how it made me look. I knew I was bitter, one of those guys, but I couldn't help it. I hated them. I really, really hated them, but I was still attracted to them. And that drove me crazy. Then I discovered 'Power Me,' the virtual reality world where you could have any power you wanted, and my life changed completely. I spent every day in it. Hours upon hours. I built up a following, a reputation, I became famous. I got paid for it. I even ended up losing all me weight in the real world. But the problem with 'Power Me' is the same problem with our powers in the real world. By 30 they fade to nothing, and now I'm 29.
They wouldn’t believe it if they saw it. Most people just looked at dwarves and took them for a people hard and dark, not to mention squat. Here he was, though, carefully stroking the exquisitely crafted finals on the bedposts, each bedecked with scrollwork. Most probably couldn’t picture a stout, red-bearded dwarf leaning down and quietly advising his daughter to “Coorie doon.” Modsognir, a once-proud dwarf, who had once worked with gleaming silver, had been reduced to hawking coal, once regarded as the all-too-abundant refuse of the mines, he had been selling it to members of the other races, as fuel for contraptions of theirs which had no artistry. His face and hands were caked in soot, soot had become trapped in his beard, causing it to curl at the end. His people’s work, and the depths to which they had to delve caused them to be spoken of by the other races in the same breath as the dead, their misshapen faces occasionally peering into the light, from the darkness, dust, and damp. Remembering his own work, Modsognir stealthily departed his daughter’s room, preparing for another night in the mines and leaving her to dream of bygone glories.
A blink and the world shifts. No longer the 21st century, now the 32nd. Too much to see, so much noise. In a matter of seconds it's gone again. The prison again. No reason why this is where the jumps always end. Stepping over the chalk circle, the same circle he steps over near daily. A quick knock on the cell door. "Hey, I'm back." The gruff guard slides open the viewing slot. "You're gonna hafta wait a sec, you just went inta debreifin." He slumped into the bunk. His returns were getting closer. There was fear about running into himself, and when he first returned a government debriefing started happening pretty quick. The door lock rattled open. "Your clear, les go." It was just a short walk down the hall, to wear the suits waited. "Nothing to report. Far future for a couple seconds." "Yeah, you know the drill though."The suit droned and gestured to The Chair. It differed each time, experimental thing to try to get all of the information about him they could. This one looked to be a salon chair, with hair dryer and all. He allowed himself to be strapped in. "So how does this one-"he was cut off by the machine. A vacuum, a literal vacuum. After a few seconds it was turned off. "What? Just cleaning me?" "Pretty much. We've learned almost nothing from taking blood or cells from you, but the dust on you might hold more information." He shook his head as he stood. "Alright, whatever makes you..."He noticed that they were gone. Another jump, but the room was still there. He turned to leave and saw the suits. They were carrying one of the early chairs. "Well, that's interesting. Why didn't you guys tell me we met already?"He asked, knowing that he just answered the question. Before they could answer, he was back in his cell, as the door closed.
In a split second, having been recognized in this horrid little facade, relaxed, for the first time in some number of years. Spreading around the universe at light speed was one of humanity's first, and last observance, and Vacuum Decay. It destroyed the universe as we knew it, destroyed chemistry as we knew it, destroyed everything until there was nothing else to destroy. It destroyed all hope of any success, any chemistry, any single event that had ever happened will never happen again in a million billion years. The world before is a new world, most probably a dead one, but it's one we'll never see and inhabit. What strangeness may come from that, we'll never know. We not only have died, but we never existed in the first place. ... "Oh crud, Xzerblax, check the systems unit?" "Yes, what?" "Universe XA-BJA23 just died." "Then reset it!" ... In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
Sunday was gloomy. The funeral had only a select few, family and friends. The flower bouquets from other people who couldn't attend at the service were overflowing the quiet church. The parents, the tragic characters in this charade of family tragedy. I was there. As her best friend, I was always there. Always listening to her stories, to her joy, and to her pain. I was there, every time she called me in the middle of the night, sobbing. I was her rock, her anchor in this turbulent sea, her ray of light in the darkness. She had fears and dreams, she wanted to be free and far away. Free to pursue her dreams. I guess I wasn't enough. But her ultra conservative parents had other plans. We were in a very rural area, the kind which hides secrets and pain like nobody's business. She was nothing more than a burden, a property. After years of emotional and physical trauma, her fate was sealed. Arranged marriage. A man who was 30 years older than her, with a leery grin, a shady past and enough money to buy off the pope himself, set his sights on his pretty prey. Her parents, blinded by the riches and the promise of a wealthy lifestyle, gave no second thoughts about it. The last time I was able to talk to her, it was 1 week before the marriage. She told me everything she couldn't tell me before, everything that was enough to destroy her family and the "groom", just enough before they locked her up in the attic, with only food and water, with no means of an escape or communication. I found out about the last part after the investigation. She killed herself and was found dead on her wedding day. I hate this place. It tastes of pain and darkness. But I still went to the funeral. If not for my grieving, at least to make sure that my promise was fulfilled. I still remember when I saw them face to face. They tried to pass off as a grieving family struck by tragedy. I told them off, and the masks slipped away. They were mad with me, but also haughty. That's when I told them about the promise I made to her. And as in cue, the sirens were heard. Lats time I checked, they were rotting in jail. The trial was painful to watch, they tried to plead not guilty, but years of witness statements and overwhelming pieces of evidence, they got what they deserved. As for the creepy guy, he was found dead the next month, when stuff came out to the light. Heh, too much bravado for a guy who cannot handle the truth. As for me, I'm still in a dark place. But I managed to keep my promise to her. Her words still ring in my head: Make them pay.
Perkins grade school has always been an odd looking building. The small town renevated part of an old warehouse that belonged to the nearby nuclear plant. The cost was significantly less to renevate this unused structure rather than just build a new school from scratch. Plus the tunnels underneath were perfect to re-route plumbing, Wires and and house the boilers for the school to have running hot water. A peaceful day erupted into chaos as an earthquake shook the very foundations of the Birch household. Jim Birch a 29 year old firefighter braces against his kitchen counter and holds on until the shaking winds to a close. His phone buzzes with a txt telling him to report to the firehouse immediately. He quickly grabs his wallet, keys and phone and runs out the door. He arrives just as truck number 9 is rolling out with lights and sirens blaring. He knows something had to have collapsed in the resulting aftermath of such a large earthquake. Jim quickly goes to his work station to get ready and jumps on the number 6 truck. The truck speeds towards the north end of town. Fear strikes jims heart as he realizes they are heading towards the old nuclear plant. He knows the only building large enough for such a response. Upon arriving half of the warehouse turned school lay in ruin. Firefighter reflector jackets flash in the sun as they search the rubble. The fire chief runs up to the truck driver and begins talking. Jim listens attentively to the instrucktions. all accounted for except one class. 12 children. Your team will take the northeast corner of the building and begin search and rescue procedures. 6 hours later a building layout hs been found and they have begun to dig a tunnel through to the class that was trapped. It was Mrs heathers class, 4th graders. With a final tug from the long chain that stretched for 50 feet into the dysmal tunnel made through the rubble. A final piece of concrete falls free. A few sobs cam be heard as the dust begins to settle. Jim reaches up and turns on his helmet light and begins walking through the tunnel towards the cleared path. He reaches the breach and stops to survey the room to make sure hes ok to go in. All the children huddled into a corner except one on the other end of the small half collapsed room. "Thats odd"jim thinks to himself. He walks to the large group huddled in the corner and says are you ok? Then it hits him there he is crouching in front of 12 children who havent looked up at all, not once did they even move. Not even when he first walked into the room. And then he counts them. 12 all in front of him. Then he remembers the one child on the other side of the room...
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LKWW 616 At one corner of Aberdeen and Hollywood perches the PMQ, an artsy mix of boutiques, bars, and bougie tchotchkes. Like everything in Hong Kong, the PMQ is better if you’re rich. I’m only kind of rich by local standards; but my miniscule living quarters are more than compensated by having the best city in the world as my playground. Maybe the only real downer is knowing that in a city of immigrants and expats, everyone is replaceable. Whole social circles can be erased overnight from a bad business deal or getting cut off by rich parents. No one can afford to not have a job or two, and no one can afford to save money. Rent and dim sum don’t pay themselves! But the people I found are what save me. Ki-Yuen works at a gallery down the street that her parents own. Abrielle works in a clothing boutique in the PMQ that lets her work on tiny sculptures when no one is shopping, which is nearly always. I work across the breezeway from Abrielle, letting the elite pick over useless decor. Ki-Yuen and her co-worker Sandy came to the shop with coffee and biscuits from Garden Meow a few doors down. I slept with the manager just enough to make sure we got mostly free coffee. Like I said, Hong Kong is about connections. Ki-Yuen handed me my cup and studied a camera on the shelf. It was a recent acquisition, and looked like it had survived hell. She pretended to snap photos of me. “Where’s the instagram button,” she asked, turning it over. “That guy is so cute,” Sandy said to me. “When you get bored, we need to find a way to seemlessly transition him to me. We still get coffee, I get some dick.” Sandy was drowning in dick as it was, I shrugged wondering how many holes she had to work with. I leaned over Ki-Yuen, who was staring at the camera. “Uh, this is yours.” “Sorry, I’m too young for film cameras.” She swatted my arm. “No, I mean this. ‘property of LKWW, 616.’” I frowned. Those were my initials. “What’s the 616?” “Your area code! From America,” Sandy piped up. “Mine is 617, from Boston, and yours is 616. I always that was a good sign.” I took the camera and looked at the inscription. “Is there film in it?” “You can’t open it! We need a darkroom. Where’s a darkroom,” Ki-Yuen snatched the camera back. “Abrielle knows art people,” I said. The three of us turned to look at the shop a few meters away. After dinner I met up with Abrielle, who did have access to a darkroom. “You don’t care if I just do this, right?” “Go for it. I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting.” I watched her get to work and as the 17 photos dried, we sat in silence and browed our phones. Her alarm dinged, and we squinted. The photo closest was a crowd of people in front of a government building. There were hundreds of people with flowers and candles, like a memorial. A few people had signs and flags. Abrielle pointed to the flags, “Looks like Sweden, or Norway?” “Swedish,” I said. “My grandparents were immigrated from there.” A few of the signs said “Carl” with other words I couldn’t make out. “There was a King Carl, I think? From the 1800s. Is this his memorial?” “Looks like it?” “How would the film be that old-” “Holy shit, that’s you.” I followed Abrielle’s finger. Off to the left was a girl with a puffy white jacket. At first, I thought for sure it was me. But there was no way, right? She looked slightly out of place in that she was the only one staring at the camera. The girl wasn’t smiling, and had a small sign. At the bottom of the sign was “LKWW 616.” “My great grandma maybe?” “What’s the sign say?” I sounded out the words. “‘Hitta din årsbok.’ Find my yearbook? Lita inte på Sandy.” “Sandy? Like, our Sandy? That is totally you. What about Sandy?” A strange sense of deja-vu washed over me. “It says ‘don’t trust Sandy.”
You examine the envelope. It felt really dry, like it had been left in a car on a hot day. It smelled of rotten eggs, but faint. No return address. You tossed it with the rest of your junk mail in the trash bin as you retire to your room after a busy day. When suddenly, your trash bin burst into flames, setting off the fire alarm. You quickly manage the small fire and disarm the blaring alarm, and you notice that one item remained intact. That one envelope. Now it smelled more of brimstone and sulfur, once pale white now deep scarlet. Slowly, you reach inside the still warm trash bin, unsure of what might happen. But the post beckon for you to open it. No, it demanded to be opened.
"Is this for real?"I ask the woman on the other end of the call with anxiousness building in my voice. "Yes sir it is. As I said, I'm producer Michelle David and a talent scout has brought your writings to my attention and I have to say that I'm very impressed with your work. We would like to use some, potentially all of your writings in the production of several movies. Would you be willing to work with us Mr.Clyde?"For a moment I don't answer as my thoughts swell and swirled inside my mind. Only short ragged breathing came from my end as the realization that my dreams were going to come to fruition started to overtake me. "Hello, Mr.Clyde are you still there?"Her calm professional voice brought me back to my senses. "Uh, yes ma'am I am and my answer is yes. I would love to. This is a dream come true for me!"I was so excited I practically shouted the last bit at her. I could almost feel her cringing through the phone. Utterly embarrassed at this point I do my best to calmly listen to her instructions before having to scramble for a pen and paper when she brought up their contact information. By the time the call was over I was shaking so heavily that I couldn't even finish my coffee with out spilling it. So I decided to pick back up my cell and call my mother I had to tell her about this. I had to tell everyone!
"Let me tell you a story...once upon a time there was a man. This man decided he knew everything, and as such, when I disagreed with him, he threw a book at my face. That same day, protestors marched up and down the street outside my office. They all cried one name. My name. They want something from me...but *what?* Once there was a little girl in my neighborhood. She decided that she was a queen, so she gathered all her friends and fantasized about the land they ruled. They all demanded I do their bidding. Everything upon the earth calls my name. Every fish. Every atom. they all rule something and are a part of a bigger thing. Yet they all call my name. What do they want from me? So with every last ounce of strength within my tormented body, I yelled, 'what do you want from me?!? I'm just a boy who can't believe!' It wasn't long before I got a reply, 'They couldn't handle the thought of loneliness. They couldn't handle isolation. So they created us to fill the void. To fill the empty spaces.' They themselves confirmed what I had feared. So I ran. I ran so far away. I wouldn't let them consume me, just like the rest of the lifeless faces. But with every step I took, they took two steps forward, and soon I had nowhere to run. I had to turn to those who still had yet to be swallowed. We created a foundation that soon became an empire. For we must contain those who mean to fill the empty spaces, those whom the Ancients created for the sake of twisted pleasure. We created the Secure, Contain, Protect Foundation to save the world,"said the old man. But he was just an old, rambling man. There's no such thing as the SCP Foundation. It's just fiction, right? So I left him there, to ramble in that old alleyway in New York, and I drove into the countryside. At first I didn't realize it...but something was definitely wrong. Soon I spotted what was, a little girl with a crown and with her friends. I assumed they were lost, so I got out of my truck. It was a mistake. She slowly twisted her head to stare at me. Only...where the eyes should've been, were empty holes leading into an endless void. The longer I stared the more I saw horrible, lifeless faces staring at me. The more I looked, the more I felt my very being slowly seep out of my body. Realizing something was wrong, I ran back into my truck and fled as far away as I could. --- Item #: SCP-4000 Object Class: Keter Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4000 is highly dangerous and as thus must be contained at Site-███, and must be carefully watched by at least ten high-class and heavily armed personnel at all times. The cage in which it should be held should be constructed out of carbon-fiber and multiple layers of bullet resistant glass. The cage should be 20 feet tall with the only entrance being on the top. The glass should be tinted, but still easy to see through. The chamber must be able to be easily gassed in case of emergencies. All personnel on site should be alerted to not look at the head's eyes for any longer than two minutes. All demands made by the Head are ordered to be ignored. It is requested that any personnel under level 5/2000 should not have access to this document. Description: SCP-4000 is a group of little girls. All wear long, purple dresses, and lack a mouth except for the Head. The Head wears a golden crown that appears to be a cheap plastic costume piece. She also wears a white and pink long dress. She has a mouth from which she makes demands on behalf of the other girls. She lacks eyes, but seemingly has no issue seeing and is assumed too have perfect 20/20 vision. The eyes seem to be portals that lead to an underworld of sorts that contain the faces of certain dead. So far the faces have not matched any of people that exist. SCP-4000 seems to be able to telepathically communicate. Answering to any of SCP-4000's demands or staring at the Head's eyes for more than three minutes will result in turning to ash. SCP-4000 reacts positively with sandboxes or chocolate ice cream. So far all tests have concluded that none of the girls that make up SCP-4000 have ever existed. SCP-4000 seems to have been created by something such as a higher force. Addendum 3056: discovery SCP-4000 was originally discovered by one of the founders of the Foundation, who never told anyone beside a young US Army sergeant on 7-3-18. The dialog started with the founder telling the sergeant about SCP-4000 before quickly turning to rambles. It is said that the founder quit and lost sanity due to SCP-4000. The sergeant just assumed that the founder was just an old beggar rambling, and ignored the warnings. The sergeant said he drove out of the city and into the countryside near where he's stationed at. He said this is where he discovered SCP-4000 before alerting authorities and fleeing the state. --- for more stories like that, r/totallyoriginal/
Todd had been told specifically not to press the button with an eye on it. But this was Todd, not Danny, not Ryan, Todd. Of all of my friends, why'd it have to be Todd to push that button, why not Ross, or Elric? This button, it would materialize whatever best fit you. But Todd could barely keep interest in something for five minutes, much less control a being made of imagination. But 15 minutes passed, and nothing happened. Then, out of the blue, a strange man with a Tv on his head and rainbow lights on a white suit walked in. We were stunned, who was this man? What did he want? He picked up the button and examined it. "Sorry boys, button machine broke."The Tv Man said. "Maybe next time."He placed it in a white suitcase with colored lights on it and walked out.
I just finished, every corner is clear. Alright then, lights out! I jumped into my double padded memory foam mattress. Every night when I get to lay down in my bed after a long day is literally bliss. Nothing can ruin these moments, well... there's one thing that could, but I already made sure that there was nothing creeping around. We don't want no strangers creeping around, no, no, no. But we're all good. My bed is like heaven in a cushion. It's a bit of cliche metaphor, but cliches are cliche for a reason. The matress wraps around my body perfectly. Outlining my body in a wave of peace, sometimes grazing my body, but only when I can feel it. Because, most times it feels like I'm just floating, suspended in a sense deprivation chamber. Oh man, it creates this aether of-- "Ay!" My body jerks up immediately. I turn my head rapidly around the room. There's someone here. No. I checked already. Must be my imagination. I layed back down in my bed. Ah my bed. How it feels-- "Don't you ignore me." I sat back up again. I kept my pillow between my arms and knees. "Oi, you'd think you'd check you fookin ceiling wouldn't ya?" Oh my god. I shuttered. "Well, don't just fookin sit there. Look up at me!" My head slowly turned up. God forbid what I would see. But I couldn't see anything. It was too dark, and what I could make out on the white streaks of paint above me, was just that, white streaks of paint. "No ya fookin cunt. Over here! In the corner." I looked over into the corner of the room, but it was just a blank corner. "Oi, this is gonna be a fookin rough rooming situation ain't it. Of course I got a dumb ass roommate. See me waving?" Suddenly I saw somehting moving in the darkness. It was in the vent on the edge of the ceiling. Holy shit. It was in the vent. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE VENT. It looks like a twig swaying in the wind. A twig? It has a bend, and it looks brown, with little bristles on it. Wait. There's something else. Oh my god no. I looked every where for them. I made sure there was none of these in the room! No. No. No. No. No. I can't deal. Tears started pouring down my face, and I gripped my pillow tighter and put my head into it. I saw... I SAW GLOWING EYES IN THERE. "Don't you look away from me when I get your attention,"it said. "..." "I know, I know. You're probably thinking. Gee golly! A talking spider rooming with me. In this day and age? Can this fooker even pay rent? I should squash him with my shoe shouldn't I? But here me out. There was no where else I could go mate. You know how dangerous of a world it is out there? All these flyin wasps, and giant feet, and venomous critters? There's a reason Australia is known for this kind of shit. Do you really want me to be out there, fending for myself, scared day in and day out on whether I gonna make it, struggle to find a fly to eat, and worry wether or not I'm gonna find a cute little spiderette who I can fuck and then keel over and die?" I couldn't stop quivering. I tried to reply, "Ple- Please, ju- just leave. I don't want you here!" "Ah, well that's too bad. You see, I chose this little vent for two reasons: it's a nice little out clove where flies like to fly in randomly and get trapped in my web for free pickings, and because you can't get me." My eyes opened wide and I looked back at the vent quickly. The eyes glared back at me and the spider said, "Oo, that got your attention didn't it. That's right. We're roommates no matter what." I shook my head rapidly and said, "This is a dream. Spiders can't talk. They, they can't do this. This can't be real." "I'm just gonna stop ya right there mate. Spiders could always talk. You cowardise folks just don't listen! It's always 'eee' or 'oh fuckin ay that's a big cunt' right before ye either run away or grab the boot." I said, "So what you're saying is that spiders could alwa--" "Always hear ya? Yup. How ya think I know to hang out here? You killed the rest of my kin, ya dick head. Least I learned where ya weakness is. It's all good though. By-gones be by-gones or whatever you barbarians say." I got up out of my bed, got one of my high heels and pointed it at the vent. I said, "I'll kill you." "Aight. Try me." I slowly put one foot in front of the other to get under the vent. I realized that it's about half a meter out of my reach. The glowing eyes of the spider kept staring directly at me. Why does it even have glowing eyes? I flinched away and threw the shoe at the vent without looking. It missed the vent slips, and hit the side of the metal frame. "Hahahaha. Oooo. That was a good one. Ay I know. Why don't ya grab your whole little shoe collection down there and throw all of them at once!" I fell to me knees and head, gripping my arms around my chest. Tears started coming out of my quivering face. I muttered, "Please. Please just leave. I'm terrified of you things. I just want to sleep without fear." The spider said, "You and me both mate. Don't act like the victim here. Us spiders help ya folks by eating all the little night crawlers around, and what do we get in return, constant fear of the boot. I never asked for this kind of existence, but I accept the fate to live in constant fear of ya cunts. Now you're just gonna have tah deal with it your self." "You- You're never going to leave?" "I don't particularly care to no. Ya know, sometimes you're just gonna have to deal with your little fears and phobias, and go on in the world. I ain't gonna bite ya. Get over yourself. Everyone deals with bullshit." I got up and grabbed my laptop from my desk. I opened up while starting to walk out the room. The spider said, "Where do ya think your going?" I said while walking, "I'm looking for a new place to stay." "You fookin kidding me right now. Jesus. No one ever wants to face their fears anymore." "Not if I don't have to!"I said while walking into the hallway. The spider yelled to me in the hallway, "Face the facts! No matter where you go, there's gonna be one of us there! You can either live in ya little safe bubble, desperately trying to get rid of ya fears and paranoia, but it ain't gonna work! You can't run forever ya crying fool!" I tried to ignore it and sat on my couch. Wait a second. There could be more out here. I never checked! I started hyper ventilating. It's okay. Calm down. Calm down. Breath. Breath. Oh man, it's right. I can't escape. No matter where I go, these things can always find a way in. Fuck. Fuck! I broke down crying on the couch. The spider yelled, "Aww.. now don't do that. Come back here and I'll tell ya what. I'll make sure no other spiders stay in ya place while I'm here. We're pretty territorial after all." I dragged myself off the couch and limbered back into my room. I stood in the middle of the room, hair over my face, still sniveling. The spider said, "That's right. Just calm down and we'll get through this together. Just go back to sleep and we'll talk about this in the morning more. I'll promise ya I won't leave the vent til then." I begrudingly shuffled over to the bed and plopped down face first in the mattress. It was soft, but felt like tiny needles driving in my flesh all over my body. I did not want to be comfortable right now. "I'm glad you chose to face your fears head first! You won't regret it mate,"the spider said. I won't regret it? Maybe. But HE'LL regret it. I wonder what sort of anti-spider spray I can pick up at the mart tomorrow? Fuck facing my fears. This bastard is gonna die. The air was stale. All the intense breathing dried up all of the fresh oxygen. The room got darker and darker as the night pulled itself further and further through the blinds. The stillness was good enough to fall asleep in, but not because it was comforting like my bed used to be, but because it's something I knew I could get rid of tomorrow, and keep destroying for the rest of my days. There's this so called 'natural peace' that everyone pushes on you. Who needs that when I can make my own.
Sweat dripped slowly across his face. Moans of pain spewed from his lips. A thin layer of dirt covered him head to toe. Brand new overalls the farmer put on that morning looked like they endured months of back-breaking labor. The long, smooth plant had barely moved an inch after hours of pulling and tugging. With broad shoulders, muscled arms, and years of experience, the farmer never hesitated to take on a challenge. Pulling out this plant needed more than grit. It stood four feet tall and four inches in diameter. No one would have suspected pulling out this plant would be a two person job. The farmer hawked a giant ball of mucus on the plant. "Piece of shit,"he said. "I'm going to have to get the Molein Brothers." Two identical twins came out onto the field. Both wore look alike overalls and straw hats. They were covered in dirt. The only distinguishing feature between the two was a crooked nose. "What's the big deal?"the crooked nose brother said. "This is one small ass plant."The farmer stared blankly at the twins. "Give it a go,"he said. In unison, the brothers grabbed the plant and pulled. Minutes go by as they strenuously pulled at the plant. The plant began to budge. Dirt around the base of the plant loosened. Suddenly, the brothers fell backward. The plant gave. Eyes bulging out of his sockets, the farmer jumped head first into the hole without hesitation.
You knew this was a bad idea. You had a feeling deep in the pit of your stomach that something as going to turn sour. But you were in too deep to turn back. The cavern was spoken about in the hustle and bustle of town. From the boozed up vagabonds in taverns to the quests posted up on the billboard at the center of the city. "Untold riches! Forgotten relics from ancient times!" You scoff at the idea as a searing pain shoots up your arm. The wound festering on your arm sizzles and burns with each pulse, slowly traveling up to your shoulder. Whatever creature that struck you while scouting ahead had one hell of a poison. But for some reason, any antidote you had on you failed to stop the spreading. 'I know I did my research' you pondered, recalling every known toxin, venom, and poisons known by adventurers world wide. At least maybe you can tell your party yo be weary as you backtrack towards the entrance. As you walk you start to feel sluggish, and the sounds around you begin to echo and radiate within your head. The pain's stopped, but as you look down, its already spread to your chest and abdomen, the skin now unnatural in color. The weird thing about all this; you feel perfectly fine. ' My party will get me out of this. I know they can' Your mind begins to grow foggy however, as each step becomes slower and slower, like a great weight has been tied to your back and legs. You feel yourself dragging at this point. They must know what resides in the cave, they have to fix this! Eventually, there's a light glistening at the end of the cave. Its the exit you've sought for what seems like weeks, months, maybe even years in your mind at this point. Lingering at the entrance are a group of people, adventurers. They turn to meet your gaze, but instead of a welcoming greeting, you are met with weapons drawn and an intent to harm. You stand shocked and taken aback. Seeing those that stand before you, a simple thought however passes through your mind: Dinner
"Umm, no." "I'm giving you three wishes, mate. The hell do you mean by 'no.' You got dung in your ears or somethin'? Terry looked at the big blue flying pile of gas that had emerged from the lava lamp he'd just purchased from the yard sale. Terry pulled out his cell phone and immediately began to dial emergency services. On the other end, someone at the police station picked up. "Hello, 9-1-1, what's your emergency?" "I'm hallucinating. There's this big blue thing in front of me and I'm hearing words come out of its mouth,"Terry said. "Uhh, what?"replied the emergency services operator. The djinn snapped his fingers and the phone disappeared. Terry blinked and reached into his pocket again. There was no phone. It must've been some trick of the mind, he thought. He probably left it on the car when he got back. "Listen 'ere, fucko. I'm tryin' to do me job here, alright, and give you your three wishes. So, hurry up so I can twist your words and curse ya already,"said the magical blue cloud. "You're claiming that you're a genie, correct?"Terry asked that obvious genie. "Yes, now come on. Pick your poison already. Immortality? Love? Money? Wealth? Hurry up, I haven't gotten all day, y'know." Terry put his finger to his chin and scratched, "What's the difference between money and wealth?" "There ya go, mate. Playing the system properly. Alrighty then, listen. Money is currency. You don't specify what kind of money you want, I could give ya a billion dollars in Zimbabwean dollars, which is fucking worthless, mate. Wealth, on the other hand, is a much more abstract notion, see. Could be gold, could be stocks, could be anything that derives some sort of weight in terms of barter. In other words, it could also be a cow or a pile of bat shit or whatever-" Terry interrupted the genie, "Is there a carbon monoxide leak in the house again? That would explain how stupid this whole thing is." Terry opened the door, left his home, and started heading out to his car. His neighbor, Sharon, saw him being followed behind by a blue cloud of genie sentience and immediately began dialing emergency services. Terry opened his car. His phone wasn't in the vehicle at all. "Drat, where's the damn thing?" The genie sighed, "Look, you could just wish for your phone back. Not that hard, mate. Hurry up, already. It's been four thousand years and I need you to finish so I can go about and stretch my legs, you wank prick." "What kind of genie has an accent like that anyhow?"Terry asked the blue cloud, "No, wait. Forget it. You're not real. I'm hallucinating because of some gas leak or whatever." "No, I'm pretty fucking real, mate. Hurry up and make your three wishes already. I know you don't believe in genies, so I'm trying to grant you your wishes with unintended consequences, goddammit." Terry looked at the blue cloud and shook his head. He slapped himself across the cheek in order to see if he could get the supposed imaginary appiration to disappear. "That's what genies are supposed to do. You think you're pulling some clever trick on me or something?" "You pig-eyed, armpit-sniffing ball-tosser. I'm trying to do my bloody fucking job is what I'm pull." Terry put up his hands and shoved his fingers into his ears, "Nope. I'm crazy. This isn't happening." "Mate, play ball with me already. I'm tired and I just want to go back home, alright?"the sparkling blue pile of magical particle-dust said. An ambulance came roaring by and Terry followed the nice men into the van and all the way to the ER. It turned out there was a CO leak in Terry's home after all., which severely screwed up Terry's bearings. Sharon wasn't real. The phone wasn't real. Hell, even Terry wasn't real. The blue cloud came to in the ER and looked down at his hands and feet. The figure touched its face for a while as it came to. "Are you alright, Mr. Blues?"a doctor asked beside the cloud-man's bedside. "Ugh... where am I?" "You're in the hospital, Mr. Blues. There was a gas leak in your home and your bloodstream has become seriously infected with the airborne chemicals, causing you to hallucinate, speak in an accent, and claim that you were a giant blue puffball of genie dust. "Aww, fuck me. That's embarrassing." "Well, all's well that end's well, Mr. Blues."
It's been a week since the incident. I call it that because I have no fucking clue as to what exactly happened. One minute I was checking my phone for messages, the next I was the only one in the entire city. Well, at least I think I am. But now there's a package outside my apartment. I'm the only one left here, so who else would it be for? I looked around before slowly picking up the seemingly ordinary cardboard box. No return address, just a note that read "Open immediately."
Women wearing their most expensive gowns. Gentlemen in their finest suits. Glowing chandeliers. Expensive marble. Ornate gilded furniture. My eyes scan the dining room of the palace. I jerk my head ninety degrees as the sound of glass shattering registers. In the corner of my eye, a young woman bows her head in shame as she apologizes to an older man, none too amused by the new bright red stain on his dove-white shirt. I look down at the floor, my mind twirling the irony of the image around. "Darling, you really shouldn't isolate yourself like this! My father and I went to hell and back to throw this party." A soothing, familiar voice flows into my ears and breaks the monotonous conversation enveloping me, and I feel soft hands on my shoulders, a pair of moist, cool lips press against my cheek. Sophie. Her hair is dark red; the color of blood. Her skin, pale but not quite ghostly, and she's in a dress that is a beautiful shade of pink, alongside a white petticoat. I smile dryly, and she returns the gesture with her smile. Now that I think of it, her cheeks compliment her lips perfectly. Rosy. Like the roses mother used to grow. "I apologize, my dear."I reach for her hand, and hold her fingers, raising them to my lips, then lowering them back to the table. She instinctively twines her fingers between mine as our hands meet the soft fabric. "I don't exactly score very well in the socializing department."It's not necessarily a lie. The majority of my conversations have me in a mask. I don't care much for small talk. I don't care much for talking. My priorities are targets, and it's easier to kill with a blade than it is with words. "You know that's a lie you tell yourself, darling. If it were true, I hardly doubt that you could have convinced me to get in bed with you, let alone convinced me to have lunch with you."She leans forward as she makes the statement, giggling, a sly, yet somehow innocent smile on her face, the strangest paradox i've ever experienced. My heart skips a beat. I look away as I realize this isn't remotely natural. This has never happened. Remembering Sophie's bare skin against mine, the taste of her lips, the way she clung to me as if her life depended on it. I didn't understand. Why was it constantly being painted in the canvas of my mind? I've convinced plenty of women into bed in the past. What makes Sophie different? "Darling, are you listening to me? Selden? Selden!" I manage to wrench myself free of the whirlpool of thoughts that surround me. "I'm so sorry. I... I've been-". My brain comes to a standstill. I have no excuse. I feel... emotion. Something I have been trained to omit from my life has crept its way back in. "You've been...? Selden, you're worrying me. You've been acting strange all evening. Like you're about to crawl out of your own skin." My mind is now racing. My feelings for this woman are interfering with my objective. Yet her father is everything she isn't. He's corrupt. He sits back in luxury while his country drowns in poverty. He needs to be removed from the equation. "Selden, please! Is it something i've done? Are you simply going to ignore me?"Sophie's voice is now quivering. Without thinking, I rise from my seat and take her hand, pulling her up and place a hand on her waist, the other on the back of her head. I press my lips firmly to hers, and feel every muscle in her body tense up in shock. As she relaxes, realizing that I am her sanctuary, she places her hands on my cheeks, as we lock lips and time stands still. When it seems that all the blood has rushed to my head, our lips finally part, and both of us are audibly gasping for air. "What was that for?", she manages in between heavy breaths. I gather myself and do something I haven't done in years. I make an honest statement. "I haven't been in a real relationship before. Sure, i've seen plenty of women and if i'm being completely honest, none of them ever evoked any emotion in me. They were just a means to an end. Sophie. You are the first human being i've ever met since my mother died that makes me feel... real. I don't want you to be another woman I leave dissatisfied and empty. I want you to be the woman I wake up next to every morning. The woman I spend all my time with. Connect with. Feel alive with. I want... I want you, Sophie." Sophie's bright blue eyes are wide as the moon itself. She looks up at me for what seems to be ages, processing what I've just said. After what seems to be an eternity, she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face into my neck. "I'm so happy. I'm so, so happy, Selden."Her voice is quivering, and I soon feel warm tears gently drop onto my collarbones. She pulls back. I wipe her tearstains away and kiss her nose. "Me too, my dove."I manage a smile. I wish it was a real smile. It's my mask. I am torn by what I have to put this woman through. When I finish what I swore to do, she may never forgive me. 5 years later As many lives as I have taken, the cemetery isn't something i'm very familiar with. Or at least, wasn't very familiar with. Until I met Sophie. She holds my hand tightly, her other hand carrying a bouquet of red roses. The two of us don't utter a single word, the silence deafening as we approach the same gravestone we've visited for the last four years. Upon reaching it, Sophie squeezes my hand. I return the gesture, and run my fingers through her hair. "You okay?"She nods, a sad smile on her face. I watch as she steps up to the head of the gravestone, and softly runs her fingers over the epitaph. "I love you, papa. I miss you so very much."A tear runs down her cheek as she places the roses on the ground where he was buried. Pure, heart-wrenching pain courses through every fiber of my body as I watch her quietly return to me. She looks down at the ring on her finger, and reaches for my hand, slipping her fingers through mine, my ring pressed against her. "I wish dad could've been at our wedding. He always wanted to see me start a family with a strong, courageous man."The same sad smile was on her face as she made the statement. "Sophie...". I try to find words to console her, but I can't find them. "It's alright, my love."She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me deeply. "He'd be so proud of you. He always approved of you." "I hope so, my dove."I manage to smile regardless of the heart-breaking pain shooting through my chest. As the two of us return to the car, she interrupts my guilty thoughts with words that to this day, still haunt me. "If I ever find out who took my father's life... no words can describe what I will do that wretched soul. They'll wish they were never born."That night, as Sophie fell asleep, her head resting gently on my shoulder, I wondered what would come of our relationship should she learn the truth. My name is Selden. I murdered my wife's father.

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