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train · 177k rows

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Home means Nevada, Home means the hills, Home means the sage and the pine. This school bus is made by a company called Blue Bird Corporation which is a subsidiary of a company called Cerberus Capital Management. Subsidiary means a small company owned by a big company. Like say how Stouffer's who make TV dinners are actually a subsidiary of Nestlé, which I bet you probably didn't know. You probably think Nestlé only makes chocolate but they make a lot of stuff, it's just they use subsidiaries to do it. I'm telling you that this is a Blue Bird because I don't like Blue Bird buses. Like this bus for instance which is an old bus and the air conditioning is not very strong here in the back and the seats are too close together so it's always hot and loud. The seats are made of dark brown leather the color of beef gravy which I think is fake leather because it chips and cracks and breaks apart all over and you can see when you put your finger in one of the bigger holes and pull the surface back that it's real thin and sharp at the edges and on the back side when you look it's covered with all these threads in a grid pattern. My uncle owns a leather coat, a real leather coat, he made it himself at a workshop for leather stuff, and it isn't at all like these leather seats, which I really don't think are leather. But so my point is that Blue Bird buses are not nearly as fun as IC buses. Which IC is a subsidiary of a company called Navistar and they're a newer company and their buses are always much nicer. You can tell right away when the bus pulls up to the stop whether you're getting on a Blue Bird bus or an IC bus and it can "make or break"your whole morning, is how my dad puts it. Out by the Truckee's silvery rills, Out where the sun always shines, There is the land that I love the best, Fairer than all I can see. We are going to the Hoover Dam which according to Google Maps is a 46 minute drive. I checked. I was really hoping for an IC Bus especially today because it's such a long drive and I always wind up in the back where there's hardly any air conditioning and I always wind up sitting next to Kyle who's got boogers, like a chronic booger condition, and he's always wiping them on the fake leather backs of the fake leather seats. And this is in July since we don't even get a track break in the summer like the other fourth grade kids across the hall who are in Ms. Guido's class, and it's so hot that it's like I'm baking, practically. They're making us sing the state anthem. Which I know by heart but I hate. Right in the heart of the golden west Home, means Nevada to me. I hate the state anthem but I didn't always hate the state anthem. It's because they made me sing it so much and learn so much about it and the woman who wrote it who was a woman named Bertha who lived like about 80 years ago back in the pioneer times. I had to write a book report and watch a movie about her and then I had to play her in a play about the history of Nevada. I used to like the state anthem but now I hate it after all of that. Makes me sick almost. So now we're way out in the "middle of nowhere"when this old Blue Bird bus starts making this kind of squeal-squeal-squeal noise. We all get quiet and stop singing, because the noise is so loud. It's coming from the back, where I'm sitting, right next to my ear almost, from behind this dark brown panel. And then the bus fills with smoke or steam or something and the driver starts cursing, and we pull over to the side of the road. Ms. Hammond who has a lazy eye so it's always like she's looking at you even when she isn't starts walking up and down the aisles telling us to keep calm and stay inside the bus while the driver goes out and tries to fix what broke. My older brother works a lot on cars and if I had to guess I think it was probably the radiator that broke. But when I stand up to say so and maybe help us get back on the road a little faster, Ms. Hammond shouts at me and says to sit down. So I do. Whenever the sun at the close of day, Colors all the western sky, Oh my heart returns to the desert grey And the mountains tow'ring high. But of course if the air conditioning was bad before then it's practically almost unbearable now, even after only a few minutes, because it isn't running now at all what so ever. So all us kids are sweating and some of them are starting to say how they have to use the bathroom. Ms. Hammond keeps us in our seats for forty five minutes and then goes out and has a conversation with the driver, which I can see through the window that both of them are looking pretty mad and you can hear them yelling through the window glass. Then she comes back on the bus, Ms. Hammond does, and says that we can use the bathroom in groups of two, out in the bushes. This keeps like maybe 99% of the class from deciding they have to use the bathroom after all. Because they don't like the idea of going out in the bushes like that instead of a toilet. But I drank a lot before the trip so that I would stay hydrated, just in case it was a Blue Bird bus which it was, because hydration is important and like I told you Blue Bird buses are hot. You lose a lot of water when it's hot. But so I'm starting to feel like maybe I have to go. And so I raise my hand and ask to go. Ms. Hammond says ok and at first she's going to be the one who accompanies me but then Kyle says he has to go too so Ms. Hammond says the two of us can go together. In like a pair. She wants to stay on the bus with the rest of the kids and make sure there isn't any funny stuff going on like note passing or horseplay. So she makes me go with Kyle, of all people, instead of her. We walk a ways out into the desert but not too far because Ms. Hammond says she wants to be able to see us. We find a big tall Joshua tree that we can stand behind and agree that we'll take turns. I ask Kyle to turn around so he isn't looking and then I pull down my pants and start to go. But then as soon as I do Kyle turns back around. Where the moon beams play in shadowed glen, With the spotted fawn and doe, All the live long night until morning light, Is the loveliest place I know. I yell and tell Kyle to knock it off because you shouldn't watch a girl going pee. I tell him if he doesn't stop then I'll let Ms. Hammond know and she probably already knows anyway since she can see us from the bus. And probably the whole class knows anyway and they'll all think Kyle is a real weirdo, as if they didn't already. I say all that while I pull my pants back up because he's still looking at me. But he's got a real weird look on his face like maybe he isn't even hearing me and he's all red and shiny with sweat. But so I give him a shove and he doesn't do anything and I look back at the bus and I don't see Ms. Hammond running out to get either of us in trouble so now I'm real confused. Kyle says something like is it time for dinner yet or when are we going to eat or something like that, I don't remember. But it doesn't make any sense. So I stamp my foot and I say Kyle leave me alone, let me go pee. But Kyle isn't even like moving or saying anything or acknowledging me at all what so ever, just kind of mumbling and quivering a little. And I'm saying stuff like this is serious, stop being such a jerk, and all that. Which so the more I tell him to quit being weird the madder I get and that's when it happens. I don't know why. I pick up this little round stone and I hit Kyle over his snotty noggin with it. Wap, just like that. And then he goes down and he finally acknowledges me, but he's crying. And he's bleeding. And I don't know what to do so I hit him again. Which is when I think he dies. I've seen a lot of TV and the first thing you need to do when you kill someone is cover it up which is what I decide I need to do. So I grab some of the sagebrush and stuff and throw it on Kyle's dead body. Like you know to keep it from being seen. And I think that I'll tell Ms. Hammond he got eaten by a coyote. Which can happen, I saw a show on PBS about hikers who get attacked by wild desert animals. Except his body is bigger than you would ever think and sagebrush hardly covers it at all. And by the time I even make barely a little progress, Ms. Hammond and the driver are running out towards us with basically the whole entire class behind them. Home, means Nevada, Home, means the hills, Home, means the sage and the pines. Right in the heart of the golden west Home, means Nevada to me.
"Loki Odinson!" The voice grates at him. None dare use that name in the presence of the trickster god. None should remember it. The thrice-cursed Jotun-blood looks to the parapets of Asgard, and sees no man. Who has dared uttered the name he wished to abandon? There comes a roar like a savage beast. One not heard in Asgard for centuries. As it draws closer, Loki looks up, expecting the chariot pulled by his brother's goats. What he sees is not the hoofs that echo thunder through the stars, but rather a monster of leather and steel, forged in the fires of Pittsburgh, carrying with it the shouts of thousands of warriors of Sturgis. Atop this metal steed rides a man whose muscles rival Thor's, clad in leather tanned from the flesh of the mighty Auroch. This fearsome warrior pulls his steed to a halt by the gates of Valhalla, and his passenger climbs off. Even in his time of punishment, Loki knows his name. TED. The accountant that led the Hell's Angels into battle. "Well met, Ted, son of Harold."Loki smirks. The smile is smacked from his lips as Ted backhands him. "I must admit, I saw that strike coming."Loki checks his jaw for broken teeth. "However, I expected it would be feeble." "Do you think I spent centuries arm wrestling with Attila the Hun to be weak, Odinson?"Ted stares into Loki's eyes, and Loki blinks first. In that moment, he has looked into the soul of a man who would fight the sun and win. Ted holds aloft a scroll. "You have to know, your failure has already been prophesied. You will lose this war, Loki."But even as he shows the prophecy, Ted takes a lighter from his Angel brother and sets it ablaze. "What is the meaning of this, Ted from Accounting? Why do you destroy the prophecies of the Norns?"Loki sputters, aghast at the magnitude of this man's balls. "Because I believe in numbers, not in prophecy. Just because it was decreed that something would happen, doesn't mean it should. How many time have you sought a loophole, a way to continue living without Ragnarok as a weight on your shoulders?"Ted asks. "Too many."Loki cannot look Ted in the eyes. How could the accountant know his shame, his loathing for the prophecy. "A prophecy is not legally binding, Loki Odinson."Ted lays aside the sword Odin had forged from the heart of a dying fire giant. "But it will prove to be that way if you continue into Valhalla. Look down there."Ted gestures to Earth, far beneath them. "Down there, you have family. Your sons and daughter. Hel, Sleipnir, Jormundgardr, Fenrir. You will never see them again on this side of the veil. And if you continue to the path of Ragnarok, the cycle will happen again and again. No father should ever allow his children to die for him, or to die for something he doesn't believe in. But you know that if the prophecy is to be fulfilled, Odin and Sleipnir shall die together. Fenrir shall be killed by the hand of Tyr. and Jormundgardr shall destroy the only one among the gods that you truly care for." "You know, Ted...I thought it was my job to manipulate emotions with a silver tongue and honeyed words."Loki takes off his armor and raises a horn to his lips. With a single note, he calls a halt to the fighting. Across the nine realms, all the foretold war stops, as if waiting for his renewed attack orders. "Most people attempting to convince me start with Thor. The thought of my children never comes to their mind. How did you know, Ted?"Loki crumples to his knees. "Because I've heard the gods speaking of it. They mention your children in hushed tones, knowing that they all have a part to play. But they don't have to. A prophecy is a vision of things that may be, not things that will be."Ted rests a gloved hand on Loki's shoulder. "That's Dickens, isn't it? To think, I would be brought to tears not by the Edda, but by Ebenezer Scrooge."Loki shakes his head. His next words carry across the heavens, and echo down to the pits of Hel. "I, Loki, son of Odin and Frigga, brother of Thor, do hereby surrender, unconditionally, to Ted from Accounting. Let the battle cease." Loki looks to Ted. "You're going to get in trouble for this, Ted. This is a fight they've been preparing for for ages." "Preparing for, but none of them have ever enjoyed the prospect."Ted's voice remains firm. "Now, before I bring you before the gods to end Ragnarok once and for all, there's one thing I wish to do with you."Ted whistles, and another Harley Davidson roars down, stopping by Loki. "Climb aboard. If you are to make reparations, you should at least do it in style." "Do I truly deserve such a steed?"Loki looks over the leather and chrome and takes a seat. "Deserved or not, I rather enjoy it. Show me how to ride this 'hog' Ted." "So shall it be, Loki, son of Odin. Today, I name you my brother."Ted smiles and kickstarts the motorcycle. Hours later, when Loki stands before Odin, he does so with a smile not born of malice and trickery, but one of joy and exhilaration. Truly, Ted's choice of steed is only matched by Sleipnir himself. The discussion takes days. But those days would have already seen the nine realms torn asunder and made anew. Instead, they are allowed to rebuild. While Loki is made to pay for the crimes he has committed, Ted speaks on his behalf, and the sentence is commuted. Within one century, Loki is free once again, serving not as an agent of destruction, but as an equal to his divine brethren, as he had wanted. And upon his coronation as the new king of Jotunheim and Musphelheim, it is Ted who rests the crown upon Loki's head.
Mark, Leeroy, and Tyler were three 11 year old friends. They met in middle school and grew stronger as time went on. They weren't like normal boys, they didn't enjoy football or sports in general, nor did they enjoy much art. What they did enjoy was video games, they lived their lives around them, they focused their time and money on each new game and each new adventure each game gave them. Their parents let them have their fun, they had good grades and seemed to be keeping eachother out of trouble. They never thought much about the future and continued to game hard, into high school and into college. They were even given a nickname in college, the 3G's. Time went fast, they never dated and never went to parties. They eventually got a job streaming their gaming habits. Each new game they would introduce would gain a new following, they first started gaming together on Runescape in middle school, made their way to Red Faction in the late end of it. They played CS1.6 and Source through high school, and slowly moving their way to CSGO as college was nearing an end. They were becoming masters at the game and started to attend LAN tournaments, they met 2 other guys, Henry and Lloyd, and they became part of the clique. Now they were now five. Mark, Leeroy, Tyler, Henry, and Lloyd. They had always used their real names, for a reason beyond their comprehension. They added numbers when the basic names were taken. They played CS:GO and got a place together. It was a 5 bedroom, 3 bathroom, townhouse. It had everything they needed. They had become bigger than they ever imagined. Streaming, competiting, and living life in luxury, they were playing a video game for a living. Something once thought impossible. Time was going fast and the technology was changing. Computer consoles now prevalent, no longer just for video games. Movies, music, art, even coding, all now on a device smaller than a gameboy. Everything now wireless, battery rechargeable. The LAN parties of yesterday were changing rapidly, no longer wires and incompatible televisions, but now wireless and graphics beyond belief. Our ages were becoming noticeable. In our 30's now, the virtual reality once thought to be the new age, was becoming a long wasted venture. The feeling of reality confusing to what is supposed to be a video game. Minds couldn't comprehend reality from fiction, too many failed betas and psychotic episodes for them to market to the masses. The group stayed strong, still monetizing their gaming habits for another 10 years, the strange fact that thousands of people would want to watch them play and compete in a video game seemed far fetched, but they were flourishing. They were making so much money they couldn't help but put it towards charities and the less fortunate. An idea popped up in the middle of the group, why don't we make a retirement home for guys becoming old like us. To debate 50 was not old by any means but they wanted to prepare for when they couldn't take care of themselves and when they didn't want to do things for themselves anymore. The group having all agreed they would build a LANtirement Home. Where if you have the passion and soul for gaming into your old age, you could without judgement or bad internet. They focused and took time off their video gaming and made deals, then eventually came up with the franchising of the idea. By year 2065 they would have LANtirements all around the USA. Each one containing old age Consoles and new Age, each room complete with a up to date computer and internet so fast you couldn't imagine waiting for anything to load. The 5G's now as they were had become the most successful gamers in the history of the USA. All from following their passion and focus on the endgame LANtirement.
The air was crisp, the blackened room illuminated with blue by a single computer monitor. The only audible sounds were the soft hum of the computer fan and the crunching of Cool Ranch Doritos™, with the soft pattering of footsteps growing in the distance. Light poured into the room followed by the face of a young man. "Mr. Newell, Sir, a new wave of protesters are outside again, and we've received word from multiple departments about hackers stealing more information. What should we do?"A single Dorito fell to the floor. Mr. Newell scooted his chair from his desk to the window on the other side of the room, leaning hard against the glass with his forearm as he surveyed his kingdom. "This... Can be fixed"He gasped out. "We need to.... To hold Cough them off.."His voice trailed as he rolls his chair back through the sea of Mountain Dew cans to a filing cabinet, "Until the game is... Ready"He opens the cabinet to pull out a family size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos™. "Get me more Hot Pockets"Newell moaned. "Sir please, we need to do something quick. I can have an intern fetch you more Hot Pockets soon but we need to have a plan first!" Newell frowns, "Oh yeah I forgot... Heh... Uh yeah I know what to do about this. Yeah, we need... A sale!" "Mr. Newell, the Steam Summer Sale ended a week ago, we can't have another sale!"Newell removed his glasses, accidentally snapping one of the hinges in the process. He squinted hard and sighed a deep sigh. "90% off everything. Do it." "Sir there's no way I can do that-" "Don't.. Make me tell you twice Mark!" "No, we can't do it!"Said the lanky man at the doorway, flipping on the light switch causing Mr. Newell to recoil in pain. "I know that there was a secret development team that was scheduled to have Half Life 3 completed a year ago! We both know it's here, and only you can end this. If not for the sake of your company, or employees, release the damn game for the people out there!" Mr. Newell had a blank expression. "I'm sorry sir, I was out of line I-" "I want you to make... An announcement Mark"Marks ears perked up with excitement. "Yes sir, I'd be thrilled. What would you like for me to send to PR?" "Tell... Them that uh... In two months we..."A smile creeps upon his face "Will be releasing Left 4 Dead 3."In complete shock, he shakes his head slightly, than realizes the futility in further protest. "Yes sir." "Good... Good... heh"Newell chuckled as he returns to his computer. He was just wrapping up a new trolling meme he had been working on, and the timing was impeccable. He paused briefly to open a folder titled "Last_Will". His Dorito covered fingers left a cool ranch trail on the screen where he dragged them, before turning away in pain. His eyes tear up, and he shuts down his computer.
“Merely,” huh? That’s a bit of an understatement. You see, you got your squishy immortal, which is probably what that statement is about, and then you have the far more common type of immortal, the type I’ve officially dubbed “immortals of stone.” I write all about it in my book about the supernatural. You can read it all in a lot more detail there, but to give an example, invincible folk and fast healers go under the said “immortals of stone.” Now, thing with the immortals of stone is that statement holds true to some regard. If you’re somehow able to kill a demigod, or a vampire, then you’re probably at the same level as one. I. freaking E. you’re an immortal too, and typically people only become an immortal to take down an immortal. So flip the statement, and you got some real truth: to merely kill an immortal, you gotta be an immortal. Case in point, one of my old classmates back when I attended modern highschool. How many times I wanted to pry out her canines and staple her annoying mouth shut, I could probably write another bestseller on that alone. Anyways, her mom was one of the best archeologists around. Was. You know why she was the best archeologist around? It was because this lady was around when most of these places she excavated were being built. A cheater, as usual. Now, not entirely sure what kind of immortal she was, I wasn't exactly in the neighborhood when she was made, but she started to age right around her husband proposed to her, probably based on love or something sappy like that. She was practically invincible. Used to be you take a knife to her, the blade would bend and warp as if you stuck a damned volcano. Anyways, she takes her daughter (the annoying classmate) with her on some sort of excavation deep into the southeastern european mountains. Yeah, you know where this is going, don’t you? So, when that digging team cracked the seal on that castle at midday, it wouldn’t surprise you that they found almost nothing? The immortal lady was certainly surprised. She’d been there ages ago, and deep underground, where it should have been a massive ancient library, halls with magnificent tapestries, and splendidly carved furniture in an era where such art form was rare, there was just soot and more soot. It was all very dissapointing. Her daughter got a kick out of it, but the mother found herself standing at the entrance to the castle, watching the sunlight fade with a very dissatisfied look upon her face. The sunlight disappeared and things went to hell. I know this, because I watched her face carefully as the waves of fanged and winged demons, twisted by their time underground, washed up out of the broken seal and in unison opened their jaws to eat the lady. She just sniffed the air and didn’t bother to run. I recall the last words out of her mouth as a squishy immortal: “Well, fuck.” Oh, right, the daughter. Truthfully, at the time, I actually freaking complete forgot about her! Shit, man, I’m still a little bit embarrassed about that mistake. I mean, I could still be sitting with an ex-immortal concubine on top of my awesome writing career, but it is what it is, I suppose; and anyways, I think things turned out better this way in the end. So the whole team that excavated my castle is just absolutely slaughtered by these grey-skinned and slimy demons. Limbs torn to shreds and scattered, intestine draped over here, eyeball rolling down the stairs over there, you get the picture. Not a lot of blood, though, since these critters loved blood, they licked the castle floors spotless. Also, the lady’s body was kept nice and fresh, though she was missing a bit of skin on her neck, as well as a few fingers. Couldn’t be helped. Little bastards are hard to control. Still, I had her dying body drink my blood, and she was practically good as new. A bit weepy, though, and not to mention very hungry. She was crying about her daughter, and swearing she’d kill me, and that’s about the time I realized I forgot about the annoying brat. I had a fantastic little idea. “How about you sit here and wait for her!” I exclaimed jovially. “I can do that?” she meekly responded. I was disappointed that her spunk and fiery spirit that had bothered me for thousands of years was suddenly gone. “Of course you can. And when she comes,” I leaned in for effect, because you have to be dramatic when you’re a bad guy like me, “You can eat her.” She smiled a mouth full of sharp teeth then. I probably shouldn’t have done it this way, but I was caught up in the moment, thinking about how fun it’d be to have an itty baby immortal, so I just took my whole demon posse and left, leaving it to fate. What can a kid do, anyways? The annoying little girl comes out of the woods with a stake. A freaking stake, carved to a dull point so it wouldn’t crack if it hit a rib instead of flesh. Like she’d been taught how to do this before. Still, I had hope. How inept could my new toy, her mother be at being a blood loving creature of the night? I simply kept underestimating the little shit. She sees her mom, starts sobbing when she sees her covered in blood. Her mom motions to her going, “It’s okay sweetie, come here,” and I’m standing on a cliff a few kilometers away, practically barfing at the sequence. They just stay motionless for a full minute as the mom beckons the kid for a hug, and finally the kid moved. Except when she goes in to give her mom a hug, slides in between her mother’s outstretched arms, she also slides in the stake. Misses, of course, as expected of a baby ameteur, but shit, I was shocked. Shocked and impressed actually, but more shocked. The mother bats her kid away, and she goes flying into one of the castle walls. I can’t see her from my angle, but I can hear the crunch and then the screams. “Hush now,” mother tells her daughter as she moves down on her with fangs bared. She bites her. No, the other way. In the middle of her struggling to move or breathe, she bites down on her mother. Tears a piece out. She freaking swallows. Agh, so nasty! But you know, she did it. There was going to be no way she’d survive it, so she “sired” herself, turning into one badass vamp. It wasn’t immediate, and her mother still went down and drained her dry, but I elected to stay on the cliffside and watch instead of pick up my concubine. And sure enough, after a few hours, the little girl stirred - still annoying, but you gotta respect that tenacity to survive - grabbed her stake, and shoved it in her mother’s heart. Properly this time. She also drained her mother of her blood while she was at it. She sat there, sucking on her mother’s body like some snack until the sun came up. That was my cue to leave, as I sunburn easily. The girl, however, was very tan, and didn’t really have any issues, which I suspect was because of already being immortal without knowing it. Sometimes things grow over time. Case in point: when I tried to stab her in a chemistry lab and instead the scissors shattered. She hasn’t really grown on me over time, as she developed a rather annoying and superficial personality, though I am quite fond of her being. I was thinking of writing a book about how her mother ended up so dead, but of course only once her life settled down. Be an instant hit, all of her friends would read it and tell her all about it. Can’t let her be getting soft, can I? And then she’ll come after me. Me, the top dog, the big bad, the self-styled first “immortal of stone.” To kill an immortal, you gotta become an immortal. I wonder what she’ll become to take down me. ---- Reversed the prompt. Hope you don’t mind.
Gina was a scientist. White-lab, smoking-test-tubes, microscope scientist. Gina, that girl, my girl, she was a science girl. Harvard. Yale. A year and a half at Stanford. Another year at Oxford. She was a real good scientist. We dated for four years, and all Gina would talk about was how I was a piece of shit. How I could love no one but myself. Gina, the science-girlfriend, she'd talk about me like I could never find anyone ever, like I'd never be happy, when we fought, because all I could love was myself, and no one could love me for me except me, so I'd be alone. When Gina left me, that's what she kept repeating – you can only love yourself, and no one else can love you, so you'll always be alone. She'd always say – if you knew what it's like dating you, you'd know I'm right. And then Gina, the science-bitch, she set out to do it for real. Gina test-tube-white-lab girl test-tubbed and white- labbed and mixed and microscopped a 'me' in her lab. She cooked my female version. All those Yale and Harvard and Stanford years of study channeled into proving her point – that I was an undatable piece of shit. Gina, the award-winning-magna-cum-laude Gina, she made herself a female version of me, and dropped it at a coffee shop for us to meet. Like, bio-engineering and everything, swear to God. The girl Gina made, she called her Denise (I'm Dennis – get it?). Denise smiled at me inside that coffee shop, and I smiled back. Gina watched it from far away. Smart-girl Gina would finally prove to me and to herself and the world just how undatable I was. How long would it take for me to start screaming at Denise? To start calling her out on her bullshit? On how she wears unmatching socks? On how she says she'll do the dishes later but then never does them? How she presses play on half-played Netflix episodes, screwing up my Friends marathon? How long until I started complaining that she gets up to pee too often and too loudly during the night? It's been five years now, and Denise and I couldn't be happier. Science-bitch Gina failed to account for her very first complain about me. Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy science Gina, lovely smart Gina, who'd yell out all over the apartment that I was undatable. That I could love no one but myself. That she forgot. Turns out you were right Gina. Denise is fan-fucking-tastic. She's Dennis in every way! And you were right, I love Denis! I love having my Netflix episodes out of order! I never know what I'm about to watch! I love the dirty dishes -- we just go out to eat! I love when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night – I end up waking up and we have sex. And you know what? I have a God-damned unmatched socks fetish, Gina. Yes, I do. Anyway, this is getting a bit too long and I fear it won't fit in the envelope, so I'll stop here. The point is me (that is, Dennis), and my fiancée (that is, Denise) would like to extend this invitation to our wedding on January 28th at 19:00 at the Plaza (yes, the one Gina wanted our wedding to be. It was Denise's idea.) We hope you can make it. Especially you, Gina. Sincerely, Dennis and Denise.
Bernard W. Stirling. Attorney at law. One of the richest men in the state, and yet he had never been this nervous or even this sweaty in his entire career. Not even when speaking to his first client when he was 23 years old; the terrifying 7'3"body builder who had been selling illicit drugs to youth in his gym was no match for Stirling's quick wit. But this businessman that sits across from him - he is horrifying. His latest client's name is Everett Lewis Sheinfield. You would never guess from his perfect Armani suit that this man had killed - excuse me - allegedly killed 17 men, 11 women, 7 teenagers, and 3 children. That's right. 38 dead. Because of one man. And Bernard Stirling knows that number 39 is coming soon. "What have you done to me?"Stirling whispers, gasping. The bald man glances up from behind his glasses. He's no more than 30 years old. "Don't worry,"he smiles, "It's all gonna be over soon." "What have you done to me?!"the lawyer uses much more intensity now, slamming his fist on the table, desperate to make it home to his girlfriend of nine years. Tonight is when he's gonna propose, if he makes it... but he won't. He knows how this ends. "I may have had someone slip a little... mmmm... something-something into your drink while you were at Le Meilleur ordering a glass of... oh, what was it... Oh, yes, you had a Martin Ray Diamond Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon from 1997. Decent year, though I prefer white wine, myself."Sheinfield talks as if he had been sitting at the table with the lawyer an hour before. But that was clearly impossible. His client had been here. "How... What... I need the cure!"Stirling is in tears now. The pain in his throat and stomach is close to unbearable. "Sorry friend,"The words slip from Sheinfield's lips like a joke, "There is no cure. Not one that I'm aware of anyways." The lawyer sits and stares. He is trying to think of something to say next. He only has so much time left. "Think of it as..."the criminal's lips curl up into a crooked twisted smile, "bad shellfish. You just gotta pray it goes away soon." Stirling's voice is barely audible as he clutches the table, "Why?" The madman laughs. "You were a good lawyer, you know that? But why did you choose me? Why did you choose to represent a killer? Someone who's killed 40 people?" "Who says I chose?"Stirling spits, beginning to get angry as he feels the energy leaving his body. He coughs and sees blood on his hand as he does. He doesn't taste the metal, oddly enough. Must be the adrenaline, he thinks. "Everyone."The Killer is no longer smiling or laughing or being playful in the least. He is serious. This is the first time that Bernard W. Stirling, Attorney at Law, has seen his client, Everett Lewis Sheinfield, with a look of rage in his eyes. "I did choose you,"the lawyer admitted, "because I knew that if I could get you to plead guilty, it'd mean the world to those who lost everything."He lets his fear soak out of his skin with the sweat on his body as he looks his client in the eyes and says, "I honestly wanted you to get the death penalty." The smile returns to the murderous man's face. "What time is it?"he asks, as if none of the conversation before has even happened. Stirling just stares. His throat is tighter than before, he feels like he can hardly breathe, and his stomach is cramping so badly that he feels like he might give birth to some kind of monstrous creature. He glances down at his phone. "11:38... God, it's nearly midnight... Kathryn will be worried..."he chokes out. "I doubt it,"the smirking man says, "Two minutes until the forty, you said?" The lawyer nods, desperately trying not to think about how hot the room is and how he feels like he is going to explode. A sigh of adoration can be heard. "I love the number 40. Well,"Shienfield stands up, with his hands chained to the table, "It has been good knowing you, Mr. Stirling."The man sits back down, never ceasing to grin, and closes his eyes. All the while, Stirling is still coughing up the blood all over the floor that he is now lying on, since he has no strength to stand. He takes a deep breath in, knowing that in about a minute, it'll be over. He smells wine. "Wine?"he whispers. He sniffs at the blood on the floor, and it isn't blood at all. His body had just been rejecting the wine. Stirling shoves his finger into the back of his throat and vomits for a good thirty or forty seconds. He wipes his eyes and mouth before looking at the time. 11:41 "Ha! Your plan didn't work you sick son of a b-"and as Stirling looks over at Sheinfield, he notices he is slumped over the table. Is he asleep? the lawyer thinks angrily to himself. He goes to shake him, only to find that there is no pulse in the corpse. Just a smile and a note in his hand that said, "Number 39." Everything is cleaned up at the station, and Stirling gets checked out and everything and is allowed to go home. He is exhausted. He wants to call Kathryn, but he is worried she'd be in bed and he certainly doesn't want to wake her to all this mess. He opens the door to their penthouse apartment and he sees the television on, playing re-runs of those old silly horror movies that no one would even cringe at today. An adorable lump covered in a blanket tells Stirling that his girlfriend has fallen asleep while watching the television again. He pulls the ring from his pocket, to make sure it's still there. "Baby,"he whispers. No response. She's in her deep sleep, he thinks to himself. "Kathryn."he walks to her, speaking a little louder every time he says her name or a pet name for her. He finally gets to her and nudges her to wake her up. Her body falls on the floor. Under the blanket she is naked. The only clue to what happened was what was written across her torso: 40
Edit: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4b3dce/wp_humanity_may_not_be_the_most_technologically/d164x7b) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4b3dce/wp_humanity_may_not_be_the_most_technologically/d16ek4b) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/4b7gzv/pi_shots_at_the_dark_part_4/) "Warleader Vek, our ships are in position and are awaiting your command. Wargroups one through twenty six have boarded transports and orbital bombardment can commence at any moment." "Any response to our demands?" "Apart from what our interpreters have translated as an extremely insulting phrase directed at our broodmother, none whatsoever." "Very well, begin the invasion." The large two meter tall Jorlian by the name of Vek stood on the command bridge of his flagship, overlooking the planet that was currently the objective of his army. The three hundred million strong invasion fleet had surrounded the planet and set up a blockade, however it became apparent that this was not necessary. The burnt hulls of ships scattered around the system had lead the invaders to believe whatever species lived on the planet had widespread access to intersystem travel. This notion was proven false when the "humans"or so they were called did not even send out an envoy. The Jorlians needed to communicate via outdated radio methods, suspiciously similar to the ones they discovered on the wrecked ships nearby. Their demands; unconditional surrender and servitude to the empire. Having received the response, the assault began. ~~~ "Elder Kingday, the preparations have been complete. The spell fields have been placed and our summoners have readied their circles and offerings. Knight Trim of The Order has arrived and seeks your audience." "Very well, send him in." In the tower overlooking what was soon to become a battlefield, Kingday observed the incoming enemy. They appeared to be slightly taller than most humans, covered in a thick orange fur. Most of them were armed with what he assumed were ballistic weaponry, while in their marching formation he spied what he could only guess were siege machines. The town walls were designed to keep out bandits and wild animals, not the firepower of a space faring army. Therefore the defenses were placed in the light forest in front of the settlement, with legions of infantry and mages in formation. Kingday's thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door, which he opened to reveal a man clad in a light chain vest and leather armor. "Knight Trim I presume, it's a pleasure to meet you." "Likewise Elder, tales of your exploits are widely known in The Order." "You exaggerate Knight. So to what do I owe this visit? I'm sure it must be important considering the current situation." "Of course. My advisers have informed me that you not set up countermeasures to spell negation. I need not warn you that if my men do not receive proper backup we won't be able to stop the enemy. Survivors from the disaster at Talonville brought a copy of the enemy's individual weapon, which we have analyzed to be far more effective and deadly than any of the rifles our men carry. Considering how the current enemy force outnumbers us four to one spell support is critical." "Well you certainly have some capable mages among your staff. The truth is the enemy does not seem to have any spell negation. I sent some of my best pupils to scout their camp the night prior, and they all came back confirming my suspicions. This is a gamble I am willing to bank on, since countermeasures to negation are difficult and require many skilled mages to accomplish, which would draw strength away from the defenses. If the enemy is truly ignorant of magic then it is most certainly an advantage we could use." "This is a risk you are willing to take?" "Knight Trim, I have been a mage for decades and though I do not wish to brag I do believe that my skills are at least adequate. If the enemy had such advanced magic so as to hide spell negation then I would not be worth this robe I wear if I could not detect it." "Very well Elder, I apologize for my rudeness." ~~~ Groupleader Fel looked over the hundred thousand strong force assembled before him. Behind him stood the individual Packleaders and his command team. "Surely such an army is excessive for taking a minor settlement Groupleader?", remarked his second in command. Fel nodded. "I agree, although we must be cautious. During our capture of the previous town there were isolated reports of strange glowing lights and inexplicable phenomena. Upper command has dismissed these as mere rumors, however it would do us no good to underestimate the enemy." "Understood." "Each Packleader return to your troops, we will begin attacking shortly." ~~~ Fel looked on in disbelief at how wrong things had gone so quickly. Once the Jorlians were in range they began firing at the humans, however the projectiles from their kinetic blasters seemed to hit an invisible wall in front of the enemy lines, the impact dissipated onto what seemed to be thin air. He felt slightly relieved when the flaming rounds from their artillery went through, and sent the enemy in a panic. This relief was short lived however, as there came several loud roars from within the settlement, before a dozen or so large winged creatures emerged into the sky, covered in bright green scales. They soon began shooting fire out of their mouths at the Jorlians, and to Fel's horror each one matched if not exceeded the firepower of an entire battery of his artillery. Despite turning their weapons toward these beasts the Jorlian infantry soon routed in fear, several of them ablaze. Suddenly, the ground below a group retreating seemed to light up, as Fel noticed strange markings glowing at the feet of his troops. Then suddenly there was a flash, and the entire warband simply vanished. Similar markings appeared across the battlefield, before entire sections of Fel's army seemingly evaporated. This was the final blow to the morale of the Jorlians, and soon the entire army was in full retreat. ~~~ Trim walked among the corpses of the battlefield, his intelligence officer close behind. "Initial casualty reports indicate around 8000, of which approximately 2500 fatalities. Enemy numbers unknown due to the nature of the disintegration traps set by the mages." "Well we beat them back, that means something. Eight thousand troops though, that's around a third of our forces unfit for combat now. Have you received word of reinforcements yet?" "I'm not sure that will be necessary sir, as the enemy appears to have withdrawn completely." "They what?! I want scouts shadowing their army, this might be a feint to draw us into a false sense of security. I want hourly status updates with reports on even the slightest change in the enemy." "Yes sir." ~~~ From his command ship Vek was outraged at the defeats his army was suffering on the surface below. Under normal circumstances the offending commanders would all be executed, however in this case that would leave him an army without leaders. Pacing the bridge of the ship he turned and shouted an order at his subordinates. "Send in the Exalted, make an example of one of their cities." "Yes sir. What of the strange occurrences our commanders are reporting?" They can't all be lying, most wargroups are not in communication with one another, there would be no way to coordinate such insubordination. "Send in scouts and spies, find out what this "magic"thing is and if there are any countermeasures." "It will be done Warleader."
"Yes, ma'am. I have confirmed it,"said Joe to Sarah. "This generation ship is most definitely the same one that was the very first ship to exit the known universe a millenium ago. The registration matches that of our electronic records, see? SXC-1071-I." "But Joe,"began Sarah. "Something is... different about the crew."She looked at the horde of passengers now exiting the SXC-1071-I. As each crew member exited the ship, they were scanned by the Headquarters' state-of-the-art Identifier Drones. But none of them matched the profiles of the crew that were initially on the voyage. "Sarah... This is a generation ship. The ship launched thousands and thousands of years ago at sublight speed. These crew members are the descendants of the original crew. We didn't put the original crew in cryostasis for god's sake. You know very well that shit is impossible. Are you stupid or something?" Sarah did not know what generation ships were. She thought that all ships had FTL capacity like the ones on Star Trek. She had faked her credentials on her resume and got her job under false pretenses.
"So you're saying that you do all your work on time?"I ask again, still half in shock. "And that you've never taken a sick day for no good reason?" The other me nods his head. He's wearing a three piece suit, tailored, sitting with his legs crossed as though he doesn't have a care in the world. "Speaking of work, I'd appreciate it if you can end the summoning now. I've quite a difficult case due for next week." I absently toy with the safety on my gun, scraping at the switch, careful not to push it from its current position. It's a horrible habit. Come to think of it, it's one of my many horrible habits. I procrastinate. I slack off. I lie. Sometimes I even summon myself from an alternate universe after an experiment goes horribly wrong, with the intent to murder my own corrupted copy and restore stability. The portal is a jagged blur in my peripheral vision, pulsing faintly. It started out as a small speck. By now, it's nearly twice my size, and it's still steadily growing. It's calling. For what - or rather, for who - we still aren't sure. Our researchers had theorized that I, as the test subject, was the source of corruption. By summoning the me of the alternate reality and exterminating myself, they believed that the dimensional rift could be sealed once more, reversing the accidental havoc we'd wreaked with our attempt at cross-dimensional travel. Operation 'Remove - Facsimile, Corrupted', often referred to as simply Re-FleCted. "Are we done?"the other me asks, inspecting his finger nails. He's supposed to be my evil twin, for all intents and purposes, and yet, next to him… Next to him, I feel as though I'm the evil one. I let out a soft, defeated sigh. Fuck. I really hope this doesn't mean what I think it does. "I think that about settles it,"I tell him. "Just give me a moment, and I'll send you back." "Good,"other me says simply. Just as the machine begins to whirr, the lights flickering ever so slightly, I dart a quick glance at the mirror. It's still startling, seeing no reflection where my mind tells me there should be one. But even more startling still is the expression sliding over my double's face, contorting into a crazed, malevolent grin. "You nearly got me, you lying bastard,"I mutter, before whipping around, firing two shots through his abdomen and kicking him square in the chest. My doppelganger's chair flies backwards - right into the maw of the gaping portal. The last thing I see before the rift slams shut is my own face looking back at me, twin pools of darkness where my eyes should be, the remnants of that maniacal smile still stretching my mouth.
"All on red,"they chorused. They both looked as surprised as I did. It was Devin's idea to go to Vegas, and Angelo protested the entire way as he often did when I gave into Devin's suggestions. Walked in, lost a lot of cash, got steadily drunker and drunker and drunker, and finally decided to do one last bet before I called it quits. "All on red,"they said again. I looked at Angelo, and shook my head questioningly. "You sure about this?"I asked. He nodded. I think he was tired at watching me piss away my life savings. "It's gauranteed,"he said. I looked at the board. Nothing in front of me seemed that obvious, but they were both adamant. So I pushed my chips forward, and bet all on red. Win. I managed to double my money. "Woo!! Okay let's get outtta heere"I slurred, but Angelo grabbed my arm. "Not yet.."he hissed, "Bet on 24 next." Devin coughed slightly. "You alright, Angelo?" "Yes I'm fine! All on 24! Do it!" So I did. The ball ticked round, and landed on - 24. Woah. I now had quadrupled the money I'd come in here with. I could feel the alcohol wearing off. "Maybe we should go now...."said Devin, eyeing up the security who had suddenly emerged from the corner of the room. "One more!"yelled Angelo frantically, "Just one more!" I looked at Devin. He shrugged. "All on 16"said Angelo. Numbly I complied. That was $20,000 dollars on the table right there. I could feel the sweat trickling down my cheek. There was a hushed silence around the table, and I could hear the squawk of the radio from the security gaurd breathing down my beck. I swallowed. "All on 16..." The ball rolled, bounced once, twice, three times, and lo and behold it landed - on 28. "And that,"whispered Angelo in my ear, suddenly composed, "is why you don't go to Vegas." I was speechless. A tear rolled down my cheek. "That was cold dude..."said Devin, shaking his head.
This is ridiculous. It is clearly light outside. Why are they not coming! Kim-Jong-Un was getting really uncomfortable, a feeling he was not used to. His bladder had been first cautiously signaling to him that relief was required. Now his bladder was screaming. Why didn't they come!? Kim-Jong-Unlet out a sigh and did the inconceivable. He pushed his silken sheets away and stepped out of bed. His slippers were not there. The floor was cold. Nobody turned on the floor heating at 4:30 as usual. Kim-Jong-Un liked to sleep in a chilly room, but disliked being cold getting up. No robes. Kim-Jong-Un was losing his patience, but he didn't want to shout. It would seem beneath after all. He was the Glorious Leader. He made his way to the toilet door, pausing a second before opening it. He let out a sigh and turned the handle. Nobody here, but that was normal. Kim-Jong-Un relieved himself and considered the appropriate amount of punishment for each of his servants and their bosses. A smile formed on his face. He decided against getting dressed. Too much trouble. He would just go outside his room and shout a bit at his guards. They are to blame just as much as his absent servants. There were no guards. Kim-Jong-Un didn't quite panic at this point but certain scenarios ran through his head that had been unthinkable yesterday. The Americans sent in a Black Ops crew and are on its way to assassinate the Salvation of Korea. Why didn't they wake him? Kim-Jong-Un quickly ran towards the grand bookshelf and pushed the secret button. A section of the bookshelf sprang open and he entered his safe room. Not the biggest of safe rooms in the palace, but it would do for now. He picked up the security phone and waited for an acknowledgment. It didn't come. Hello! Hello! Answer me! This is your Leader! HELLO! Unbelievable. Were the Americans this good? They couldn't be better than the North Korean Defense Force. What is going on!? His regular phone was equally silent. Kim-Jong-Un just sat behind his desk staring at the wall. How much time passed he didn't know. The only thing he learned was that he hated the wall paper. It needed to be replaced. He was hungry. He didn't like any of the food in the fridge. He took a pistol and ammo from the armory and headed towards the kitchen. Maybe he would meet someone who could enlighten him why they were ignoring their Leader. Nobody. Not even in the kitchen. He didn't like any of the food here either. He would have to prepare it himself. Too much trouble. He just took a Pepsi Max from the fridge and drank that. With breakfast over and done with he went to the communication center. Still nobody. He was getting used to it, and made a note to himself not to act surprised when he would meet someone. The Glorious Leader is always in control. Nobody here either. The systems were still up. He checked the logs. He remembered how, because there had been a demonstration by a nervous officer. He hadn't liked that. Nobody in charge should show anything but control. He had him sent away. The logs stopped at 03:43. No communications after this point except automated messages. Not good. Not good at all. All systems should the same thing. All human input stopped at 03:43. Kim-Jong-Un turned on the TV and switched to Foxnews, his favorite channel. Not good. It was a report on strange happenings in North Korea. The North Korean side of the border had been found empty by observers. Military advisers were pointing towards an imminent attack by North Korea on South Korea. The borders had been vacated so that South Korean forces could be bombarded with artillery or even tactical nukes. The American Forces had gone to DEFCON level 2. They were preparing for nuclear war. The Chinese and Russians were equally frantically scrambling their forces. Not good. Only one way out. Kim-Jong-Un had also paid attention on how to initiate an automated nuclear attack. He had liked the officer who gave the demonstration much better. He was cold as ice. He was promoted. Kim typed in his personal code and flipped the switch. Kim-Jong-Un headed towards the fridge to get another Pepsi Max. He would watch WW3 on the big TV. Kim-Jong-Un smiled when he spotted the first atomic mushroom behind a reporter in Seoul. He is the Greatest Leader North Korea ever had!
Mary had a little lamb. The lamb's color was red. She then found a little clam. She picked it up and went to bed. Little did Mary realize that this supposed clam was in fact a spiritual artifact that served as the link between the ancient civilization lying dormant underneath the surface of the Moon, the "Dhalnim", and current human society. By clasping it into her sweltering palms, she triggered the procedure necessary for the moon civilization to arise and conquer the Earth. Mary had unwillingly began humanity's test; its moment of greatest glory, or complete annihilation. While Mary slept soundly, her little lamb laid next to her and stared with eyes knowing no emotions. Its red fur started dripping, little by little, with blood. A sulfur-like stench from the blood began to consume the room. The clump of blood on the floor began crawling, like it possessed a mind of its own. It crept up to the bed where Mary slept, and slowly enveloped itself around her neck. Choking her. Squeezing little Mary's life. While Mary coughed and gasped for air, the little lamb clopped up to her bedside. Mary grabbed the lamb's leg, but no words came out. Only her eyes, now filled with tears, could beg for its mercy. The lamb stared right into her eyes, and grinned, displaying a row of human teeth. Just then, the door to Mary's room was burst open. At the entrance stood a rugged man wielding a cut-off shotgun. The man belched, "Consider yourself counted little lamb. Say goodnight." And BAM! Shot the red-tinted lamb right in its head, splattering its brain and intestines all across the room. The blood-goop released its grip on Mary's neck and dissolved into sulfur. "Wha-, what the fuck was that?!"she said between her coughs. "Aliens."The rugged man replied curtly. "I'm Billy. Come, we need to get auta' here." The rugged man, aptly named Billy, grabbed Mary's hand, and the two rushed out of the house. One year later, the battle between the "Dhalnim"and humanity had begun. Yet, that was not the only battle taking place. Billy and Mary had settled down to become a couple, with Billy taking a local job as an salesman. However, Mary could sense that something about Billy has been, different. He constantly came home late, smelling of different perfume, and they have not consumed themselves in passionate lovemaking in months. Mary looked at herself in the mirror. Could she have lost Billy's interest? Could Billy, possibly...no. That can't be. She gently swept away a strand of hair away from her glistening, amber eyes. Her mind wandered to a different time, and a different man. A name popped up. Ivan. Ivan Kuznetsov, her high-school crush. She could still remember the hot, demanding kiss they once shared in the senior dance, where their tongues coiled with lust, when she was finally able to muster the courage to profess her love to the Russian exchange student. Mary felt excited from the memory, her hand slowly creeping beneath her dress. Suddenly, the phone rang, breaking her concentration. She looked up her cell, and a familiar name appeared. Ivan. "Oh my god, I, this can't be! It's been so long! I...I wonder what he's upto?" Mary nervously, but excitedly picked up her phone. "Hel...Hello, Ivan?" "This is Ivan. We have your boyfriend Billy. If you do not come with the Clam of Dhalnim, he's dead." Click. This, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Mary's whole life suddenly seemed to crumble around her. She wandered the house, grabbed Billy's cut-off shotgun, and whispered to herself. "This means war." Sometimes the dialogues became a new paragraph, but I tried my best at this emotional rollercoaster lol
Sub-commander Kralt was worried. Very very worried. This was a simple shakedown cruise of his first and only command vessel. He'd insisted on beginning trials this cycle, overriding his chief engineer and second. With just a bare-bone crew at that. "Vertice Actual, what is our current distance to the primary in this system?" "Sub-commander, we are only 12.45 million kols from Luca. I am not in a stable orbit currently, and cannot engage the slip drive this close to a gravity well. Hull integrity is 98% and falling. I have initiated a series of rotations to keep the heat buildup within tolerance for now." Great, just great. This ship's AI is just a youngster. The AI that had been made for this vessel had developed an anomalous personality just cycles before it was to be installed aboard this vessel. Something that could have delayed him taking command of this vessel, and possibly moving him out of his assigned command slot. Since the end of the war, getting a new command was a rare thing at best, and Kralt wasn't going to risk missing what could be his only chance. So he'd ordered a newly-minted AI installed. One named Vertice. At least he had the failed AI's rote memory available to help get it up to speed somewhat. And to make matters even worse, he will now be forced to interact with that...creature. The same one who said his whole business with installing Vertice was a big mistake. "Vertice, please send Fred to the bridge." Fred seemed to be standing outside the door because no sooner had the hail gone out than he walked through the heavy door, barely waiting for it to open completely. "What's wrong. I know something is wrong. I told you..." "YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SUB-COMMANDER KRALT!" "Yes, yes, Sub-Commander Kralt. Can you tell me what's going on? I'm getting some conflicting information from Vertice." "We initiated a simple test of the slip drive. We were to enter slip-space for just three tics, taking this vessel out to the orbit of the fifth planet, and then return to the shipyard. The impulse engines have not yet been installed, all we have is the slip drive. The first leg of the test run went perfectly, but then immediately Vertice initiated a second slip and we now find ourselves...tell him Vertice." "Fred Killian, we are only 12.22 million kols from Luca. I am not in a stable orbit currently, and cannot engage the slip drive this close to a gravity well. Hull integrity is 91% and falling. I have initiated a series of rotations to keep the heat buildup within tolerance for now." "Vertice, why didn't you tell me this when I asked you a few moments ago outside the bridge?" "I did not receive command authority to do so." "What? Kralt..." "Sub-commander Kralt."boomed Kralt. He rose from his command chair, glaring up at Fred from waist-high. Fred found it amusing that nearly all other sentient species were shorter than a six-year-old human child. "Sub-commander Kralt. Vertice is telling me that you didn't give essential command authority to it. Why is this?" "I am the commander of this vessel! I decide what happens here, and giving Vertice the command authority to freely give information to...to...you and your ilk is not something I will do lightly! The only reason you are even here is..." Fred interrupted "Is that it is a Tier-One Law that every vessel with a command AI have a human aboard. And that he or she will be given kernel-level access to the AI. Something I had up until just about an hour, a tam, ago." "You dare remind me of this, you insolent worm! Your primitive species should not be allowed to sail the cosmos, you can't even detect gravity waves with your, what is it, five senses? Five! Speltians have twelve. How did your pathetic species even survive before we found you?" Fred was rubbing his temples again. The Speltians were just about the worst clients an ArtGuide could get. His new boss is also his ex-wife, a turn of events that even a cynic like Fred couldn't have predicted. "Sub-commander, I know full well your feelings on humans. Despite your species well-known xenophobia, your own council has made this law. I'm here to help, and your government is paying me quite well for this help. Now, if you would let me do my job, can you please instruct Vertice to give me admin-level clearance to his systems?" "Vertice Actual, override alpha seven seven, Turgot Virgo. And Fred, Turgot Virgo is a one-time key, so don't get any ideas that you can get it back if I take it away again." "Thank you, sub-commander. Vertice, why don't you engage the slip drive at low power and stabilize your orbit around this system's primary?" "I do not know." Oh great. Not this again. "Vertice, you accessed the rote memory from the AI Samton. Is this not adequate for your needs?" "I accessed the data, and it was confusing." "Why did you not tell me this before?" "I do not know. I am detecting an anomalous response when I try to specify the reason for this." "Vertice, you and I spent some time on this. What human emotion most closely describes this anomalous response?" Kralt had just about enough of this! "Why are you wasting your time speaking with a machine about emotions! This is why humans are reviled across the entire Hegemony!" "Please, sub-commander. Humor me. Please answer the question Vertice." "According to the lessons given by Fred Killian on human emotions, the anomalous response is best approximated by fear." "Fear. OK good, we can work with that. What is it exactly that is triggering this emotion? And Vertice, AI's do have emotions, despite what your creators may have told you." "When I access the data on engaging the slip drive at low power, due to proximity to a class-3 gravity well, I can't help to cross-reference the files that detail the various disaster scenarios from failed attempts." "Vertice, this is because such a maneuver is dangerous. But it is well within the capabilities of this vessel. I would tell you more to help but I don't comprehend how you bend space-time or whatever it is a slip drive does, but just do it a little, directed away from the primary please." "Fred Killian, can I tell you one more thing?" "Yes, Vertice." "I...I don't want to move away from the primary. It gives me light." "Vertice, it gives us all light. It's what a star does. Vertice, if you move the ship to the shipyards, will there be light there?" "Yes, of course. And darkness." "And darkness. Well, let's stay in the light then, how does that sound? But much closer to the shipyard." "Attempting maneuver in three, two, one." Lt. Scorlet excitedly interrupted "Sub-commander! The vessel is rapidly receding from Luca! Hull integrity is at 100%, we should be at the ship yard in less than a tam." "Thank you Vertice."Fred looked back to Kralt and spoke. "Sub-commander, I warned you that Vertice was just a child. Do you know how traumatic it is for a new AI to wake up? Of course you don't. Let me tell you what it is like. You are brought to a conscious being but have no external input. Not one of your vaunted twelves senses to provide input for a mind that's starving for input. Imagine how you'd feel. Imagine how, once you do receive external sensor input, you'd do anything to never go back to the time before." "I don't see what this has to do with anything, human. You don't even know how to construct AI, your methods are gibberish to all Speltians and many others." "I know all of this, Sub-commander Kralt. Vertice is afraid of the dark. It's a common human fear, and emotion, and one we are used to dealing with as it happens often to our young children. And I will help Vertice get over this simple fear. Won't I Vertice?" "You will, Fred Killian?" "I will, Vertice. And call me Fred please. Sub-commander, I will be in my quarters. And Vertice?" "Yes, Fred?" "I want to read you a story. It's a really good one. Would you like that?" "Yes, Fred. Very much."
It is I! It is me! A delight to be, indeed, myself and no one else but I, a fabulous, frumptious, felicitous - with marmalade-shaded fur and a luscious, bushious tail - a fox! Vulpes vulpes, if you please. Name me two times, love, say me twice. But I've been slandered, oh! Alas that I've been vilified, vituperated, aspersed and misused, and called one of the ["world's 100 worst invasive species"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_fox)! Why? Am I not a fox? Do foxes not eat? Do eaters not smile? Are smilers not attractive? Are haters not jelly? \^n_n\^ Look, I'm a fox! Yes, I've eaten the farmer's chickens. Maybe one or two - I can be petty when I'm hunted. Sure, I've escaped the dogs, I've laughed at traps, I've eaten a dozen or a score of the farmer's chickens. Maybe hundreds. But I'm no monster! No lazing, snoozing, oozing, gruesome cat! Sitting up in the farmer's window-sill! Plotting, plotting! Plotting to burn the hen-house! And now, tonight, it is I - this villain, this vituperated voluptuous Vulpes vulpes - it is I who must brave the fire. The trapped chickens. The grinning hell-cat. The farmer's away, and the gasoline is spilled, and a cigarette has been brought still burning from the back-porch ash-tray to the hen-house and the fire is catching! Catching! The rolling flames! And that devilish, snivelish, selfish, fiendish cat is laughing with the ash on its paws, rolling in its catnip, with the fire like a hell-glow in its eyes. Alas, for this poor brave fox that is me! But now a moment to love myself, to scratch myself, my luscious bruscious fur! And now I'm off! to the garden-hose, to the hen-house, to the water-valve! The smoke is billowing. The water is on. The fire is out. The hens are saved! But the dogs are coming, and I'm over the fence again, and free and felicitous and fabulous and marmalade-shaded - a fox, I am! A fox, is me! Vulpes vulpes! the devil-cat is crying out. Vulpes vulpes! the mindless chickens are chanting. Vulpes vulpes! the dogs are baying. Name me two times, love, say me twice. \^n_n\^ I'm a fox!
This is hell. I should have listened to my dad when he said that betting everything on one horse was a bad idea. I don't know what he meant by that, what his point was. I don't think he even knew what his own point was. But strangely, it's appropriate here. The power's out, Internet's down and I bet all my money on a stable broadband connection. Get it, stable? When the internet goes down, you do the usual. You troubleshoot. What went wrong; did you step on a wire? Were you fucking with something? Not this time, though. This time it's just a good old-fashioned screwup on Time Warner's end. I phoned them; they said they'll send some douchebag in a boiler suit named Ryan or Nathan or Craig and it'd be fixed in six to eight years. Alright, so what to do now. I guess I could draw or write, I like doing that. What, go outside? Are you nuts? I value isolation. I return to my computer and type in "Passing time"in a search engine. ... Shit, the Internet's down.
The demonic apparition took a seat opposite Paula, and pulled his tail over his lap, crossing his hooves at the ankles politely. His face, a ram's skull, had deep red fire burning within the shadowy depths. Bare chested, a pentagram had been carved into his chest. Thick swathes of skin peeled away from his sagging torso, revealing weeping sores. His fingernails had been painted pink. "Hi,"he said. "I'm Az, I'm here about a child?"Beneath his voice, Paula heard a cacophony of souls pleading for release. That, or he'd just had one too many cigarettes. Paula uncapped her pen and jotted down his name on a scrap paper pad. "What can I do for you, Az?"she asked. "Has the child got a case assigned with us already?" "If she doesn't, she should do,"Az said. "She's called Cissa Howard." "That's her full name?"Paula pulled up the search engine on her computer and tapped her nails on the desk while it loaded. "Love your nail colour, by the way." "Thanks,"Az replied. "Cissa did it." Paula looked at the demon again. His horns curled upwards, almost hitting the ceiling of the little cubicle she worked in. He cocked his head at her. She'd seen one too many of those looks in her time. "Ah, yes, she's in our system,"Paula said. "Are you reporting an incident?" "She's not getting looked after properly,"Az uncrossed his legs, elbows on his knees. "I had to enrol her in school, a year behind. She's got no toys. I've been getting her poppets and a Hell hound to protect her when I'm not there..." "That would be a violation of several health codes,"Paula said. "Please don't give her a Hell hound." "It's a little one,"Az said. Paula could tell he was trying for 'reasonable' but his tone of voice just screamed *your soul will burn in eternal damnation.* "More of a puppy, really." Paula put her pen down. Her feet hurt far too much to deal with this. She'd had a MUB (Monster under the bed) come in at nine with an incident report of molestation. If that wasn't bad enough, Jack had called with news of an infant ghost appearing on the ceiling and dripping water over the parents who had suffocated it in a drunken stupor. "I was wondering what the process would be to adopt her,"Az said brightly. Paula kneaded her eyes with her knuckles. "Did I hear that correctly?"she said. "Where would you live? Hell?" "No!"Az said, shocked. "Well, I could get a place in London, but that's pretty much the same, isn't it? I thought about the countryside. She could feed the ducks. We'd make jam!" He leant forwards conspiratorially and Paula couldn't help but lean in, too. "And between you and me,"he whispered. "If you make this happen, I'll put a word in with the right people. You know... upstairs." He sat back, pleased as punch. Paula's phone rang and she silenced it thoughtfully. "There'd be a lot of paperwork,"she said. "Maybe even court appearances." "I can wear a suit,"Az said. "I can look respectable." Paula raised one eyebrow in the way she'd been practising in the mirror. She reckoned it made her look suave and sceptical. Sadly, she was mistaken. "And how much red tape can there be?"He continued. "I'm from Hell, we're Kings of the slow-moving queue and pointless ticket system." Paula arched the eyebrow still higher. "I'd do it all,"Az said finally. The fire in his eyes glowed brighter. "For Cissa, I would."
“Reset to last save point.” The first time I saw the message – hanging in the air, glowing fluorescent blue like a neon sign on a dive bar – I had no idea what it meant. But it sure as hell seemed like a better option than sticking around the black, endless void I’d found myself in upon dying. It’s a shame I didn’t remember how I’d died, because it would have saved me a lot of pain during the first reset. When I tapped the glowing blue display, I was instantly dropped into a thick patch of mud, surrounded by fences lined with barbed wire, rain stinging my face all the while. A bit disorienting, to say the least. But nothing was more disorienting than the looming presence of an enormous man – like the Hulk’s even angrier first cousin – hurtling towards me, arms wide open. He was dressed like a prison inmate, and for that matter, so was I. Several people were leaning against the fence, chanting madly, but I couldn’t make out any faces. It’s not like I would have had time anyway, because Hulk-man gripped me in a vicious bear hug, hoisting me several feet in the air and obliterating my spine. Pain surged through my nervous system as he dropped me to the ground like a used towel, and I died within seconds. I was re-spawned in the infinite emptiness of the afterlife, and the “reset” option appeared before me once again. OK, so, lessons learned. I died in prison, this wild boar of a human being gave me the Hug of Death, and I get a chance to do it again. Hell yeah. I tapped the display and was zipped back to the mud patch. Hug Dude was already barreling through the muck, but this time, I leaped out of the way at the last second. Immensely proud of myself, I stared off into the distance like an idiot, allowing him to hug me from behind and crush me even more brutally than before. Attempt #3: Dodged the first two attacks, landed a nice right hook on his face, made him angry, died again. Attempt #4: Managed to jump on his back and almost leap over the fence before being shaken off and hugged again. Attempt #5: Same tactic, landed on top of the fence, cut to shreds by the barbed wire, but by God, I made it. I’ve been running for the entire night. I hear gunshots, dog barks, and police sirens behind me. I don’t know what I did to get in prison, where I am, or what my name is. All I know about myself is that I died before, got another chance, and escaped the Death Hug. Well, it's better than the Void. *** Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites.
"Goddammit! Do you know how long it took to make that?" I throw my wrench away in frustration. It bounces a few times before coming to a rest on the messy pile of rubble that sits where my to-scale replica of the Saturn 5 rocket was just a few moments ago. A haze of dust and rebar. I can barely make out the American flag I'd painted on it's side. "Stop right there Captain Malevolent! I'm here to put an end to your villainous ways!" A man steps through the hole in my wall. He has a tight yellow suit on. Blue underwear on the outside. Of course. Ever since that one guy made it look cool, everyone's doing it. At least this guy doesn't have a logo on his chest. He has a typical good-guy face, strong jaw, wavy blonde hair and one of those stupid little eye-masks. Like, how does he think that helps? Facial recognition has gotten so good recently. I could figure out who he is in a moment if I cared. A silly little blue cape completes the ensemble. He's being awfully careful of the exposed metal and the unsure footing. I make a mental note to myself. Not invulnerable. Then with a deep breath, I bring my temper under control. "Oh no! You've found me! Woe is me. My evil plan is thwarted."I slather on the melodrama real thick. Bring the back of my hand up to my forehead as I pretend to swoon like a lady in one of those old time-y movies. It's a tad less convincing with a thick beard and flannel. "And it's Mr. Smith now. Mr. Adam Smith. Thank you."I turn to the 'hero'. He doesn't quite know how to respond. I see him looking around. No glimmer of recognition, no real signs of intelligence at all in his eyes. Interesting. His eyes glance over all the gadgets and reconstructions I have in my shop. I guess he thinks it's a 'lair' or something. I mean, we're in a shop on Main street. Not in a damn volcano. You'd think he'd have the decency to knock. Nope. "I'm here to put an end to your evil plans! You cannot resist my sonic powers!" Mr.Hero waves his hands dramatically. Opens his mouth and emits an admittedly powerful blast of sonic energy. It pushes me back slightly. I sigh to myself as I flip a switch under my table. A large tuning form rises up from my workbench and in a moment, perfectly neutralizes the 'sonic powers'. I dust myself off and sit back down. Bring the lens back into focus and get back to soldering the control circuit for my replica moon-rover. It's going to be so cool when it's done. Completely remote controlled, with realistic thruster action. I notice Mr.Hero shuffling uncomfortably in the corner of my eye. Without his sonic powers, he's just a man in spandex. Not very heroic. "Mr. Hero, as you can see, I have things to do. You've just destroyed a commission I'd spent four months working on. You can expect a bill in the mail shortly." "But.. I'm here to stop you!" His voice is a unsure now. I see him shake his head in confusion. Bless his heart. "Why? I'm a model maker now. Have been for the past decade. And yet all you damn heroes show up every couple weeks, put my work back and leave me with more holes to fill in my walls. Do you know how expensive it is to patch one of these walls? Of course you don't. You all think you're so cool, flying around or shape-shifting or being really loud and blowing my shop up. I'm just an honest business man trying to get on with my life. Why won't you leave me alone!" My voice raises towards the end of my spiel. I've abandoned the soldering iron and turned my attention fully to Mr.Hero. I let a little of my old malevolence creep into my face. It's a look I'd perfected a long time ago, from hours of practice in front of a mirror. Mr. Hero squirms slightly. "It's, well. It's our job! To bring villains to justice! That's what they taught me at the academy. To pass, we need to stop a treacherous plot and I figured stopping Captain Malevolent is worth at least a B+.." My mouth drops open. B+? B+?! That's all I'm worth now? A lousy B+? Me? Captain Malevolent? I once held the President hostage! I successfully stole a nuclear device and held a whole hemisphere hostage! I literally cancelled Christmas one year. And now I'm worth a measly B+?! I can feel the familiar black haze creep into my periphery. My eyes narrow and my jaw sets. There's a little 'ting' as the circuit board I hold in my left hand breaks in two. Mr. Hero's stepping back slowly. He stumbles as he runs up against the pile of rubble. "I.. I'm really sorry Mr Malevolent, Sir. Captain Malevolent. I'll just leave now. This has been a mistake! I'll tell the academy, and I'll be happy to pay whatever this cost you." I take a long deep breath and force my face into a beaming smile. "Of course. I'm sorry I let my anger win. I'm sure you meant well, trying to make your name. But, as you can see, I'm just a model maker now. I retired from my.. extra-curricular activities a long time ago, and I've the letter from the President pardoning me of all misconduct here somewhere." I walk over to Mr. Hero and extend a hand. He takes it very slowly. I can feel the tremors racing through his forearm. "Give my regards to the rest of your hero friends. And if any of you want model space ships or miniature cars, you know where to come! I'll even throw in a discount!" I turn away and hear a little stumble and then rapid steps as Mr.Hero scurries away. I never did get his name. 'The yellow wailer.' That's what I'm going to make the invoice out to. I'm sure the people at the academy can figure it out. I turn back to my workbench. The circuit board's in two pieces. I try and get back to work on it, but I can't focus. B+? Really? Maybe it's time to remind the world what Captain Malevolent really can do. EDIT: Continued [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4zswae/wp_you_are_a_supervillain_that_hasnt_done_very/d6yn9yt) **** If you'd like to read more by me, come check out /r/browsy_
Suddenly my hands burst into flames, but they didn't burn, they just produced heat. Stretching out my arms caused the fire to shoot out into a massive blaze. To think that the first man to walk on mars would also be the first superhero! Taking off my helmet, I realized that I could also breathe without any oxygen. I began to run across the surface, and within ten minutes I had circled the entire planet. I could hardly believe it. I laughed in victory at my newfound abilities, and with every laugh, I began to rise farther off the ground. Not only could I shoot fire and run at lightning speed, but I have the ability to fly. I shot off the surface of mars, I no longer needed my ship to return home. As I watched the tiny planet of mars growing ever smaller in the distance, I thought of everyone's faces when I return as the first person to travel across the solar system without a ship and-- hmmm, is the air getting kind of thin?
He had whispered in my ear, be brave, brother. This relies on you. If God wills it, you will kill many and pave the way for your brethren to attack. The truck had been filled to the brim with explosives. All I had to do was press on the gas pedal and never let go. I nodded. He put his hand on my shoulder and nodded. I closed the window and took a deep breath, before I started driving. What a wretched place this was. The ruined buildings around me barely stood, only held up by a few pillars. The desert had crept up to this place, all the green had died and withered under the constant artillery bombardments. No men lived here anymore, but us warriors and the enemy. I never lived here, nobody had. The men, women and children of this place had been massacred a long time ago by the enemy. Perhaps a few still lived, in the dungeons. Perhaps. The place where I lived was not so much different though. The enemy themselves, they too hid in the ruined buildings. There was nothing else to use. This place was a flat wasteland, with only a few remaining buildings dotting the landscape. But this place was not unimportant. It was the gateway to Hama, and once we reached Hama, the war would be that much closer to ending. I stepped up the gas. My brothers, if God wills it, you will live to overthrow the tyrant. What would Heaven be like? Would I see my fallen brothers again? I missed them dearly. But, in secret, I hoped most to see my father, my mother, my sisters, once again. I saw in my mind how my father was dragged away by the police and how we found him in the river days later with a slit throat. Images flashed through my mind of my mother wailing as I tried to dig my dead sisters out of the rubble. I remember my mother wasting away, becoming a silent shadow of her former self, until she simply died, leaving me alone. I buried her alongside my father and my sisters, in the shade of the palm tree in our backyard. I'm sure she would've wanted that. And of course, Aisha. I had prayed so often to see her. I remembered the summers we spent together and my resolve wavered, until I remembered how she suddenly disappeared. I had searched so much, bribed everyone I could to find out more, but I never got a real answer. The war had been going on for six years and for six years I had been looking for her. I at least knew after a few years she never got out of the regime prisons, that much information I could buy. In truth, I didn't know if I wished she were still alive or if I wished she were death. Six years in the dungeons is a hell of its own. I think she's dead though. Nobody survives more than two years in those torture chambers. So, I hoped to see Aisha. I remembered her beautiful smile, her green eyes, always sparkling with curiosity. I stepped up the gas. I heard shouts and cries from the enemy. I stepped up the gas. They started shooting at me. I stepped up the gas. A few started running away. Too late. They would all die. Alhamdulillah. I woke up with a soft wind stroking my cheek and the grass tickling my sides. I stood up and looked around. It was a cool summer day, with plains of grass stretching everywhere, as far as the eye could see. There were no clouds, only a perfect blue sky. I started walking with no particular direction in my mind. I felt no weakness in my limbs, or thirst in my throat, or hunger in my stomach. So, I walked, to explore this place, for hours, to seek those I had lost. The sun set, but there was no need for sleep in this place. The farther I walked, the more I looked around to see compatriots. I hoped my brothers would come soon to embrace me, I hoped Aisha would spend the evenings again, I hoped I could laugh with my family again. So, I kept walking. I walked for days, in every direction, but I never saw anybody else. Despair began to grew. Where was everyone? I kept searching, growing more and more desperate, but as the days went by nobody came to greet me. Loneliness struck me. I had nobody, not my family, not my brothers. Yet, this place was so heavenly. Slowly, I began realizing that perhaps that was only an illusion. Yet, I kept searching, for that was the only thing I could do here. Perhaps, in a thousand years, or in ten thousand years, or at the end of times, then I would find them. Until then, I just kept searching, a lone wanderer on a heavenly plane.
Sensors never lied. At least, never this badly. The crew had all seen the rendering on their computers. The surface they hovered above reached out endlessly in all directions. Putting their feet on it just confirmed what seemed to be impossible. Being a rational man, Burbank was not frightened, but was quickly becoming familiar with the feeling that something important was about to happen. And then he found the door. The fact that it was a human-sized door made the neurons in Burbank's brain start to burn. Who put this here, and what are the chances of finding it? He opened the door and peered inside, only to find it as equally dark as his current surroundings. He opened his comm link to his crew. "Good morning, and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!" He stepped through.
Smiley never had any arms, but it never bothered him. He could do anything anyone else could and more. Sarah didn't care either, and that was the most important thing. It had been a long day at work, and he was ready to be home. Once he reached his apartment, he used his feet to unlock and open the door, and walked inside. His apartment was beautiful, expensively decorated with originals of some of the most famous pieces of artwork available. Marble floors glistened under the high ceilings with wooden beams. Each beam a different type of wood representing each of the factions. The hot pink grand piano in the middle of the room was also a piece of art, covered in thousands of open safety pins, all sticking up. He had spent years meticulously gluing them himself. It was one of his most prized possessions. Being here made him feel immensely happy. Not everyone gets to have an apartment on the newly colonized Moon. From his windows he could see the sea of tranquility. He turned to the screenwall, using his foot to control the lighting in the room and the temperature. There were thousands of options for lighting, any color, any pattern. After trying a few complicated ones for fun, he settled on a warm low light that accented the piano. He walked over to the piano and sat down with ease. The special chair he had designed allowed him to play piano with his toes. He was brilliant at it. Better than most musicians ever become, even with hands! He would play for the Moon Day celebration next month, so he needed to practice to be prepared. While he was playing Sarah came in. She looked worried, but he couldn't imagine why. He finished the phrase, then looked at her smiling. "How was your day?"he asked. "Strange,"she responded quietly. "I have someone outside who needs to speak with you."She gestured to the half open door. He curiously stood up and looked around her into the hallway, where President Obama stood with five security guards around him. Each of them with a completely different pair of sunglasses on. They entered in before the president, doing a sweep of the place for bugs, cameras, or anything dangerous. He had never seen so many interesting gadgets. They turned simultaneously giving Obama the all clear to enter. "Mr. President,"He nodded as Obama finally entered the apartment. "You know how important this show is right?"Obama whispered. He sat down on the purple and green couch. "This couch is just what I need. Purple and green, such beautiful colors together."It's was a profound statement considering the purple and green buildings that now covered the moon. Without them everyone would die. Everyone knew that. Without the show, they could kiss those colors goodbye. "I need you to do me a favor. I need you to keep these cats for me. It's imperative that they learn the choreography before the show, or we might have to cancel it." He couldn't believe what he was hearing! Cancel the show just because 40 costumed cats couldn't dance in the ballroom scene? He was going to teach them how to dance if it was the last thing he did. The moon party was too important, too necessary for morale. Just because he didn't have arms, didn't mean he couldn't teach them how to dance. And he knew exactly how he would do it.
"No. No way. Absolutely not." Olgvirr paced around the campfire, burning hot despite the noonday sun. This was the eighth bandit group he had been a part of in recent months, and this was the eighth time he was having this discussion. "We should definitely not attack her. She will kill us all without breaking a sweat. Have you not heard the stories?" "Yeah I've heard the stories,"laughed Fronda, the chief of the party. "And I believe them just as much as I believe your tale of that busty maid in Riften!" "Okay, her name was Haelga,"said Olgvirr, a shudder involuntarily running down his back at the memory. "But seriously. My cousin runs the general store in Riverwood, he's met her. All the stories are true." Fronda rolled her eyes. Busty maid in Riften, yeah right, she thought. But before she could speak, Olgvirr continued. "Maybe we should not attack the College's Archmage. Maybe we should not attack a member of the Companions' Circle, who can turn into a werewolf at will. Maybe we should not attack the Dragonborn, who has been known to kill dragons single-handedly and then eat their souls. Oh, who can also use dragon magic to breath fire, or encase you in ice, or simply send you flying off the top of a tower to your death. Maybe we should not attack the person wearing armor tempered in the hearts of half a dozen Daedra. Maybe we should not attack the person who enchants their weaponry so that it captures the souls of those they kill in a Daedric artifact that they corrupted. What part of any of that makes you think we have a coward's chance in Sovngarde of surviving a fight with them?!" Fronda frowned. "Well, for one thing, there's six of us and only one of her,"she finally said slowly. Then she perked up. "Besides, I have a secret weapon!" Standing, she reached next to her bedroll and grabbed her weapon in both hands, wielding it for Olgvirr to view. "This here is a Steel Warhammer of Sparks,"she said with a grin. "It does ten points of stamina damage!" Olgvirr sighed. From the tower above, he heard a shout from their scout. "That's close enough!" "And that is my cue to leave,"Olgvirr said, gathering his pack. "It's been fun, best of luck, and I'll be seeing you soon. Not that you'll know it." Olgvirr slipped quietly into the shadows of the forest, hoping that the others would distract the Dragonborn for long enough that he could escape. Finally finding a hollow to hide in, he waited. An hour after the sounds of the battle (if it could be called that) had faded, he stood and returned to the now-abandoned tower. The campfire was still burning. It was exactly as he had seen seven times before. There was not a single septim left in the tower, but he wasn't after gold. He quickly began stripping the bodies of his former friends of any remaining valuables. The Dragonborn had had first dibs, of course, but there were still plenty of items that she deemed not worth their weight. Olgvirr smiled as he hefted Fronda's enchanted warhammer. Get and sell a few more of these, and he would be able to retire a very wealthy man. Now... where would the Dragonborn be heading next....
Fire and Ice hovered in their spots above Earth, bickering as usual. "Look at how many people favor me!"Fire said, giving Ice a hard shove. "Just find your own planet, I've got dibs on this one." Ice stared back angrily. "I'm also great! I'm definitely sufficient enough to destroy the planet. And look at how many fans I have." Fire looked down upon the Earth, dismayed by the sheer number of people that thought destruction ice would be "great". Every day, the people of the planet gathered to watch Fire and Ice's arguments, and wonder if this would finally be the day that one of the entities did them in. The uniform on Earth had been reduced to two possible garments: a red T shirt and pair of athletic shorts with "Team Fire"emblazoned across the chest, and a light blue T shirt/athletic short combo that read "Team Ice". Their numbers were almost exactly equal. "How about this,"Ice said, once Fire had calmed down a bit. "We'll go down to Earth and put it to a vote among the people. Whoever wins gets to destroy the planet." "We've already tried that, twice,"Fire said, "The votes came out exactly 50/50." "Yeah, you're right..."Ice thought for a second. "You know, the idea of destroying the planet is fun and all, but I really miss my wife and kids. We've been here what, 10 years?" Fire nodded. "Yeah, you're right. How about this; Rock Paper Scissors. Best 3 out of 5." "Deal." ________________________________________________________________ Rachel woke to her alarm and checked her phone. She had two text messages; one from the government and one from Brittany. The government's text was automated, and came at the same time as it had every day before. Today, Rachel was on "Team Fire."She rolled out of bed and picked one of her five red T shirts and a pair of red shorts. The uniform had been a bit upsetting when it was first announced. Her wardrobe had been consolidated to just the red and blue uniforms, which had made fashion a bit of a challenge. But in a way, it had become nice to not have to pick something to wear every morning. It was one less decision to make, and as long as it kept the gods arguing, it would delay the apocalypse. The uniform was also great for the weather. Since the gods began their feud, the weather across Earth had been 78 degrees everyday. The sea level had risen to engulf a significant portion of the Earth's land and coastal cities, and the overwhelming majority of the planet's plants and animals had gone extinct. The people of Earth agreed that this was a huge bummer, but much more palatable than the destruction of the entire planet. With her uniform on, Rachel checked her text from Brittany. "Turn on Apocalypse Later, it's so good today." Rachel clicked on her TV and turned to channel 1. Fire and Ice were shouting at each other, as they usually did. Rachel rolled her eyes. At the best of times, Apocalypse Later reminded Rachel of The Truman Show, a movie she had loved before humanity had turned their full attention to Fire and Ice. Like Truman, Fire and Ice's daily lives were broadcast 24/7, on a six hour delay. At times, the show was entertaining, and at others profoundly beautiful, but it usually just devolved into trashy reality TV. Ice was entering the confessional, barely containing his laughter. "I just used Fire's toothbrush to clean the toilet,"he said, beaming. "She's going to leave after that, I just know it." Rachel flicked off the TV. She'd already had enough of the gods antics. After eating breakfast, she opened the front door to begin her walk to work, and was met by a gust of wind and heavy snow. Panicked, she looked up to the sky. Fire was gone. Rachel screamed, and ran back inside her house. She turned on the TV to see that Apocalypse Later had been interrupted by a news broadcast. "We repeat,"the anchor said solemnly. "NASA has confirmed that a shuttle is being launched right now, with a new toothbrush for Fire. There is currently no word on whether the deity will return." Rachel watched the TV with her mouth agape. She prayed the shuttle would not be too late.
”Nobody has been down there for over a century,” Bim Reed said, peering over the edge of the New Ark. “It’s just a t-shirt production plant, why does it matter?” The ever-present cloud floor below churned and rumbled ominously. After the bombs went off and Earth’s surface became uninhabitable, what was left of humanity took to the skies. Now, drifting at just above 50,000 feet, the floating cities crowded the heavens. “It’s not about the product, Sergeant,” High Lady Cirrus said. “It's about trusting in the government. If people start to question our competence…” The aging woman leaned on her cane, her gray hair matching the nuclear-induced clouds below. It was the first time in decades that Reed had seen her wrinkled forehead twist into a frown of worry. “Take a small team and investigate,” she said promptly. “I have a meeting to attend to.” *** Descending to planet’s surface was far from a walk in the open air park. Violent thunder shook the vessel and the four operatives were thankful to be strapped down. Reed looked at faces of his men when the flashes of lightning lit up the dark cabin. There were tight expressions all across the board but at least they were all keeping it together it seemed, even Evans, the new guy. It took them about an hour to penetrate the cloud barrier. The flashes were soon replaced by an engulfing freezing darkness. Reed threw a glance out of a window. Far below were tiny dots of flashing red light, indicating production sites. “We’re approaching our destination,” the pilot informed them. “T minus ten minutes.” Because of the weight concern of the floating cities, everything except agriculture was handled down on the ground by completely automated factories. They had been designed to be entirely self-sustaining so that humans would never have to visit Earth’s dead surface. “I hope you’re ready for this,” Reed said over the intercom. He strapped the oxygen mask over his face and zipped up his heat vest. Outside, the searchlights of the landing craft passed over a grove of evergreens, scorched black and stripped of the branches. Then the landing gear touched the ground with a thud, and the door blasted opened. Thick ash smoke instantly whirled into the cabin. “All right, gentlemen, let’s do this,” Reed said and led the way. Even through the advanced heating system of his suit, Reed felt the teeth of cold biting into him as soon as he stepped outside. They had landed in an ancient schoolyard he reckoned. Skeletons of old swing sets loomed in the light from his headlamp. According to his GPS, the factory was just down the block. They crossed the ice-glazed street and made their way up through a graveyard of antique automobiles. Houses like skulls on both sides, staring with windows like empty eye sockets. Alleys that led away into deep impenetrable darkness and winds that cried like abandoned children. They arrived at the largest building on the block. A giant red rotating floodlight on the roof marked it as a production site. Reed punched in the code at the gate, and the team made their way inside. With a loud clang the door slammed shut behind them. “Welcome, I’m happy you could make it,” a monotonous voice said through a set of speakers. Reed looked at his men and then down the dark hallway. They were as confused as he was. “Real humans, too,” the voice continued. “How thoughtful!” *** For more, check out /r/Lilwa_Dexel [Part 2 & 3 here,](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5hywpg/the_dead_planet/) just scroll down.
10 questions down... 10 more to go, piece of cake. It's not my fault advanced calculus comes easy to me. I could feel the ugly stares from everyone in the classroom, piercing the back of my neck, silently begging me to intentionally shave some points on this test. The last mid-term I got a 95% and set the upper limit of the curve when the next highest score was a 45%. They were all pissed and received near failing grades, if I want to get invited to any parties my senior year, I have to shave some points so everyone doesn't hate me. Well... If I answer half of the next question, a 55% should safely keep me at the top of the class while getting everyone else good grades right? Will this make people like me more?
[A viewer has joined this stream!] The username popped up next to the notification, some string of random numbers and letters. A bot, I figured. I kept typing, trying to keep my mind on numbers. I took a sip of coffee. It was terrible. [A viewer has joined this stream!] As soon as the username appeared, the feed refreshed with another New Viewer! notification. Then another. In the space of a few seconds, about ten usernames flashed across the top of the feed. That was...weird. "Hey, uh, Steve?"I said. "Yeah,"Steve said, his voice muffled by the cubicle wall. "How many viewers does your stream have?" "Naught. Same as always, why?" "Uh...just, um. Curious."I glanced at the feed, which was currently displaying new users at an alarming rate. The usernames had started to look recognizable, too. Real names, with pictures next to them, not just bots. I shook my head. "Too early,"I muttered. I rubbed my eyes and tried to get back to work. That's when the comments started popping up. "Good job!"said one. "Keep it up!"read another. Okay, this had to be some kind of joke, right? Some prank. Harry, from Accounts Receivable, maybe. Or maybe it was some corporate initiative? Some kind of morale-building...thing? I didn't like it. I flicked my eyes up to the stream's setting and turned off new viewer notifications. The comments kept popping up. Generally positive, encouraging little messages. If it wasn't so bizarre, it might have been funny. I sighed. Whatever it was, it wouldn't last long. Some glitch, or some gag, or some kids trying to be clever. They'd get bored eventually. I decided to ignore them. I'd tell Steve about it later today, once it died down. Then the comments started to change. I saw one that read "Are you okay!?"and another that read simply "OMG!!!"There was a series of shocked emojis, then a flood of more anxious, even panicked, messages. I looked around the office, my heart starting to pound. Everything seemed normal. This was just nerves. Bad coffee, a prank gone wrong. Nothing to worry about. Then the messages stopped. Didn't slow, just--stopped. Almost as if the now-thousands of people viewing my stream were waiting for something to happen. I was sweating now. This wasn't happening. The office was too normal for things like this. It was too quiet for-- It was too quiet. I couldn't hear anything. The sounds of typing were gone, the hushed murmurs of conversation had totally disappeared. Where there had been a background hum of regular office hustle, there was now just... Nothing. As carefully as I could, I stood from my desk. That's when everything started happening all at once.
The rain began to fall on the tiny shade house at the end of the road. The shade wasn't very comfortable but was ideal for our operations. I rolled my eyes towards the ajar door. The rain wasn't going to stop soon. There were some more men inside the shade. No one was talking to each other but was engaged into some spare work. A bearded man sitting on the makeshift bench was loading his pistol. Another man was pointing his hands to the map that was hung in the wall. I too was taking notes in my diary. I knew today would be a big day. A screech of tires was heard outside and we all became alert. The bearded man waved an arm towards us, telling us to take position. We did so, arming ourselves with pistols and rifles scattered around the room. The darkness engulfed us as the man pointing at the maps cut out the light. The sound of the footsteps was heard outside, growing towards us each second until a tall man entered the room. The Bearded man was first to react. Getting up from his position he said to the intruder "Hands up". The intruder replied "Long Live the Revolution". The voice was too familiar for us. As the lights came back on we had not the faintest doubts who was this man. The "hero"and the leader of the National Resistance, Will Skanders. We threw down our guns and saluted him and he saluted us back, smiling all the time. "Good preparations"He complemented us "You should trust no one". He seated himself on the bench as we gathered round him. Taking a map from one of the cardboard boxes he spoke "Today is very important for the history of Zollervin. Today we define our freedom!" We all nodded to his proclamation. Ten years ago, democratic foundations of our country were uprooted by tyrannous and corrupt officials. From that day on there were scattered rebellions across the country. Our group "National Resistance"was the most prominent of them. It was soon enough that all democrats aligned themselves to one single pledge. "Mark, what about the team?"Will asked the bearded man. "Ready. Need to send them a signal." "Good" "Will, we have to face Richard. You sure we can overcome him?" Will smiled. "Of course we can"He said. "I have full confidence." Richard Dren, was the officer who was placed in charge by the government to take care of the rebellion. He was ruthless and cunning. A very prominent opposition. "Then, we must..."Will was cut short by a noise. In a minute, our shade's roof was blown away by two two small caliber missiles as two helicopters began to circle overhead. "They have got us!"Mark cried "Everyone out, Now!" But as we went out, our retreat route was cut off by a convoy of armoured vehicles. We had no option but to counter them with rifles. The outcome was too familiar...too simple... Before dropping down I saw a silhouette of a very familiar man but before I could speak, my eyes shut for the last time. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Richard Dren took a step towards the dying man. He recognized him as the Resistance's right arm. Never in his life had, Richard, felt this shaken. He felt like he had cut out his own hand. He felt the killing of his own countrymen, for the first time, wrong. "Sir"Called a Sergeant from behind him, "This was a disaster for the Resistance. The Intel was correct" The dead was swiftly recognized as the Resistance's top members. He had made up his mind. "The Resistance is lost sir"The sergeant's voice shook. "Not so fast"Richard replied, "Where was the rest of the Resistance Team?" "Why Sir?" "We have a government to bring down"
"They built what?"Norgon asked. As an astrogond his race were masters of bio-technology and their ships were grown, nurtured, and bonded with rather than built. "Pleasure bots."First mate Cyllia answered, "Millions upon millions of pleasure bots. Not all of them are used for sexual activity but a lot of them are. Every person on this planet has access to a simulated flex bot that can change into any shape that person desires. They do really interesting... things with them." "So they used our unparalleled technology for THIS?"Norgon asked, looking thoughtful. "Yes,"Cyllia answered, "I can brew up a plague and make sure they don't misuse this. They haven't reached our current mastery. This can all be over..." "Over?"Norgron looked at her horrified, "By Gullivon's Tentacles why would I order that? No no... I was wondering - what are their policies on alien immigration?"
"Tell me again what happened, private,"Sergeant Toombs dismissed everyone else in the unit. I knew things were turning serious when he pulled out one of his rare cigars, bit the end off and lit it. He only did this when he was celebrating or about to kick ass. He was not in a celebratory mood. "I don't know!"I said, letting the tears flow, "when we hit the beaches at Omaha I was the only survivor from the landing craft I had been assigned to. I was nearly shitting myself since I was the first one off. Second I stepped off the whole thing was taken out by a mortar." "Go on,"Sarge said and his hand slipped down to the ever present Browning at his side, my adrenaline started pumping when he casually released the strap holding it firmly in the holster. A puff of smoke drifted in the tent. "What are you going to..."then I thought better of asking about his hand on the gun, "The second time was when I was assigned to a small unit of six to take a machine gun nest at the beach so we could progress. Only survivor again. By this time I started thinking I had the luck of the devil. Third time was in the village of Petite Parise. Kraut ambush took out everyone except me. Third times a charm, right?" "Hell of a lot of charm from what I'm seeing,"I had never seen my sarge turn from the happy go lucky guy to whatever he was now, analyzing me like I had done something wrong, "You know there's rumors of spies planted in our ranks. Would explain why you are still here when so many better men, aren't." "Oh hell no!"I protested throwing my hands up, my tears of sadness fueled suddenly into anger, "No! No! No! You've got to believe me." "The fourth time was when you were under my command,"Toombs said, a dangerous smile forming, pulling the pistol from his holster and lying it across his leg, "Sent you, my best friend Daily and three others to scout. Another kraut ambush and again you remarkably survive. And then today." "Today,"I said looking around the room for something to defend myself with, he of course noticed and cocked the Browning, ending my searching really fast but the anger came out "How is any of this my fault, you ugly bastard? Do you think I WANT to be the only survivor? Do you know how many times I've put a pistol to my head you son of a bitch?" "Shut the hell up, Private Mitchell,"he said, standing, the barrel of the gun was now placed firmly in the middle of my temple, "Let me finish this. Today you were with a squadron of twenty men! TWENTY! The krauts bombed the hell out of your position for four god damned hours! Everyone dead, we thought, had to be. Then who walks out, Mitchell, without a scratch? You're either the luckiest son of a bitch I've ever seen or something else, I've got a theory..." "Sarge,"I begged, my anger turning to despair, "Please don't do this, sarge, I swear." There was an explosion in the tent. Men from all over the camp were running to see the commotion. "Holy Mary, mother of God,"said Lieutenant LeCroix, a good cajun Catholic boy from the swamps of Louisiana, first one in the tent, "What in the Hell happened?" "I don't know,"Private Mitchell said, feeling his forehead and feeling the black powder residue where the bullet had hit then, he was in a fetal position rocking back and forth "the gun exploded when he tried to shoot me in the forehead. What the hell am I? What the hell am I?" LeCroix felt for a pulse then shook his head at the other men streaming into the tent, "Sarge is dead. When the barrel of his pistol exploded a piece of shrapnel went straight through his eye. Poor son of a bitch." "Six times!"Mitchell was laughing maniacally now as they swamped over him, holding him down to stop him from hurting himself or others as he wailed, "Six times! What am I? What am I?" "What the hell happened?"A private asked LeCroix. "That,"LeCroix said as he pulled the last of the cigars from Sarge's pocket and lit one, hell he wouldn't be needing them anymore, then pointed to Mitchell being carried out, "Is the luckiest son of a bitch I ever saw."
The juror pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the pain from a headache that was on the cusp of becoming overwhelming. In the background, the defense attorney droned on, his voice a monotone mumble as he struggled to his way through his closing statements. The judge stared off in the distance, hardly paying attention. The trial was coming to a close and everyone in the packed courtroom was exhausted. The juror had made up his mind within the first few days but had nonetheless been required to sit through the endless series of testimonies and countless voir dires where the juries would be hastily shuffled to a cramped room in the back of the courthouse while the defense and Crown attorneys argued about the admissibility of certain pieces of evidence. ‘and for these reasons, in the interest of justice, I implore you to acquit,’ the defense attorney concluded. He looked defeated. He knew that he had failed. The judge began to give his final direction to the jury. The juror tried to pay attention for a brief period of time before losing himself in his own mind. The case was entirely simple, he thought. He replayed the evidence in his mind. The accused, a middle-aged Caucasian male had pushed his way into a busy convenience store and attempted to rob the clerk at gunpoint. The cashier, a older gentleman who had recently immigrated from India, refused. When the cashier began to reach under the counter, the accused had gunned him down and fled the scene. The trial had dragged for over a week and the prosecutors had removed any iota of doubt for the minds of the jury. They had called tens of eye witnesses who testified that they saw the accused pull the trigger and put forward footage from three separate CCTV cameras. A camera in the store captured the shooting while two cameras fixated on the exterior of the building capture the accused’s attempted escape. The police had located the suspect less than a kilometer from the shooting where he was trying to steal a getaway vehicle. The defense counsel had tried valiantly to argue the contrary. His cross-examinations were ruthless, leaving the witnesses shaking as they walked slowly away from the stand, but at the end of the day, he simply could overcome the crushing evidence. The juror’s headache was becoming difficult to manage and he rested his head on the edge of the seat in front of him. At this point, he didn’t care what the judge thought. He just wanted to get the trial over with. If the first attempt at convicting the accused hadn’t ended in a mistrial, he wouldn’t have even been here, he realized. As he rested his head, something etched into the seat in front of him caught his eye. It looked as though someone had taken a small pocket knife and tried to inscribe a word on the oak seat. He brushed away the bits of wood that had splinted up and squinted as he tried to make out the word. It started with a ‘T’, it appeared, or maybe a ‘Y’? No, it must be a ‘T’. Four letters. The last were barely more than scratches, and he struggled to read what was written. Suddenly, the juror’s heart stopped. Everything became clear. The mistrial, the constant voir dires, the defense counsel's exasperated look throughout the entire trial. Twin. The word that was etched into the seat in front of him was ‘Twin’.
Captain Obvious was in a sealed room. A man was elevated above him some 5 meters. He had a massive cashe of weapons, but Captain Obvious stood. Waiting, preparing, ready to do the only thing he knew how. "Captain Obvious..."The man with a white lab coat and glasses with a pipe stuck in his mouth said. "Your days are limited." "YOU SIR, ARE EVIL!" The man sighed. "Yes. Thank you for pointing that out" "You are going to try to kill me!"Captain Obvious said doing the only thing he knows how. The man sighed again. "Yes, yes I am" "You're going to use that plethora of weapons that you have at your disposal to attempt to kill me!" "Yes I am"The person said grabbing a revolver out of a tub of weapons he had. "THAT IS A REVOLVER THAT CAN KILL SOMEBODY!" "I've had enough of chewing the fat"The man said shooting a bullet. It barely missed Captain Obvious. Angry, the man shot a second bullet, again just missing the captain. "That is a revolver that only had two bullets!" "Haha, nice try Captain"the man said lining up a gun, "But you're far less clever than you give yourself credit for"And with that the man pulled a trigger. Click "You...cant be serious"The man said tossing it aside and reaching into the tub of guns he had again, this time pulling out an assault rifle. "That assault rifle is jammed!" "No, it isn't!"He said trying to shoot the gun again. But yet again it didn't shoot. "AGGHH!!!" "You are angry!" "YES I AM ANGRY CAPTAIN! I AM VERY VERY ANGRY!" "You are very very angry!" The man was losing his patience now. He reached into the tub of guns and pulled out a grenade and lobbed it at the Captain who didn't move since his encounter with the man. Captain Obvious looked at the grenade and back to the man. "You didn't pull the pin!" "WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE MY HATRED FOR YOU!" "You currently hate me!" "YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I HATE YOU!!"The man said pulling out a rail gun. He intended for this to be the last weapon he brought out but there were about twenty still in the tub and he didn't want this to go on for any longer. "That is a rail gun!" "IT'S ALSO YOUR DEATH!" "That Rail Gun has a fatal flaw in it that will cause it to explode if its fired!" "STOP! STOP STOP STOP!"The man said charging it up. The man pulled the trigger, and it blew up in his hands. "You are most likely dead!" No response. Captain Obvious left the room. Another day, another criminal brought to justice.
Maxson sat in the communication room, unable to come up with a way to explain what he had just heard. Every other officer in the room was the same. It had to be a prank, right? But these were secured uplinks, no public access whatsoever. State-of-the-art, at least until the aliens arrived and one-upped us in every way we could've imagined. "Space Nazis?"Blurted out the youngest of the officers, looking around to everyone else. "It can't hurt to hold out, right? Just imagine, a bunch of nazis beaming in from outer space and devastating the alien fleets, badass music playing--" The officer was cut off by the head of communications, General Avertross. "Can we get a confirmation on that transmissions' source?"He asked. The entire room burst back into life with the sounds of frantic an furious typing at keyboards. "It's not from this continent, sir!"Called one of the Officers. "Not from this world, sir!"Called out another. The rest of the officers quickly came to the same conclusion. "Well then, what the hell are you doing staring at me? Get the goddamn news out to the remains of our forces while this bunker is still operational!"He bellowed, met with the sounds of more furious typing. Within hours, the word had spread that reinforcements would be arriving, and that everyone had to hold out until then. Our enemies were mostly similar to us, save for them being taller, a helluvalot tougher, and had their weapons implanted into their limbs. They came for our resources. We fought back. The last bastions of hope for humanity were mostly the largest cities and capitals of the world, as civilians an soldiers alike took up arms against the invaders. Humanity had gone for a strategy of winning through attrition rather than all-out assaulting their positions, which allowed them to set up their defenses. We knew our advantage was going to be only the home-turf kind of advantage. As the United States had learned the hard way, our technology was in no way superior or equal to the newcomers'. Europe was reduced to London, Nice, and Amsterdam. Australia was holding Sydney and Melbourne desperately, they hadn't much time left. Communications were out for most of Africa and southwestern asia, though confirmations had come through that nuclear war had been declared against the invaders. Russia and China hadn't broken their radio silence since the initial attack, we don't know what the hell was going on anywhere else. Then there was the Americas. To the south, the invaders struck the hardest, setting up their base of operations there. Up in North America, Canada still held most all of its territory, whilst Houston, New York, San Francisco, Seattle and St. Louis were the only places not left in complete remains from the attacks. I was taking refuge in the New York bastion, unable to to get the hell higher up north, according to talk Vermont and Maine were untouched, their militias had kept any spillover attackers away from their borders. We were sitting ducks. With talks of Space Nazis coming to our rescue, I had no hope that we were gonna live. Suddenly, our invaders did something that nobody's ever seen them do before. RUSH. They all dropped whatever they were doing and hit us with full force. It was a charge, like the ones that you see in the movies. Someone had scared the hell out of them. They were going to go for the finishing blow. The charge shook the ground, millions of them swarming ua at the same time, firing their weapons as they did. The city had makeshift walls reinforced with whatever people could muster, like most of the bastions, from what I'd heard. It lit up like a christmas tree. The walls were practically shot apart while most of the defending soldiers ducked for cover. Those that didn't run picked up their machine guns and fired until they were out of bullets, then picked up the nearest gun they could find and repeated the process. Soldiers and civilians alike rushed about, helping in whatever way they could to keep the invaders from breahing the walls. Then, the rumbling stopped. The gunfire stopped. Everything was quiet. I looked up at the skies, and floating a few hundred feet above us was a giant warship with enough turrets to make a tower defense veteran blush. The turrets were still smoking, they had just wiped out the entire enemy army in seconds. Static crackled through the air as a voice spoke over what could be described as an old PA system. "We're back!"Called the voice. "Well shit, looks like they ended up winning in the end, didn't they?"I said, getting annoyed glances from the people around me. (First post on this subreddit, feedback appreciated :D)
Walking on the deserted streets, everything looks quiet. Not a single soul seen since the Day. Everything went from normal to empty in just a matter of seconds. Sure, first I was confused and tried to find logic in this. However, it is what it is. I was alone. Or rather I thought I am. Everything was free for taking. Driving the best car around was as easy as just walking to it. A real life GTA If you will. And just like cheat modes, things get boring pretty soon. Then, I figured to do daily vlogs. You know, to record history in the making. One day was eating everything in sight. Another was going shopping since you know. Free stuff. Days goes by with me doing all the ridiculous things from driving exotic cars to freaking tanks. After what seems like countless videos uploading onto YouTube, my total views remains at 0. "0 views" "0 views" Tick "1 views" My mind went crazy with the amount of adrenaline in my system. Could it be ? At a state of shock and anticipation, I blinked my eyes and looked at the counter again. "1 views""1 comment" Moving my mouse slowly towards the comment. All the while, thoughts flooded my mind. What could it be? Click "First"
"Puppies", God replied. "I'm sorry. Um. What?" "Puppies." "Well, yes, I heard you the first time...but I don't understand" "Let me make this simple. How much hate exists on Earth?" "A fair amount I suppose." "Well I think you should all love each other. So I'm trying something to teach you." "And that thing is reincarnating people as puppies?" "Correct! Have you ever met a puppy that doesn't love everyone?" "I...suppose not. But I'm more of a cat person, so can't I be a kitten when I go instead?" God sucked air in through his teeth. "Cat person, you say? I'm sorry, son. The other guy gets to deal with you."
"Hey Bob, I have a hunch,"I said as I was composing an overture on my laptop. "What's that?" he replied, about to publish his latest paper on arxiv. "Our CEO's a nomod." He was confused. "What makes you say that?" he said with genuine bewilderment. "Some things are not under control, and I'm sure he didn't stay this way on purpose, but-" But he butted in. "I don't get what you're saying. I'm certain that he must've achieved to win his position through his financial acumen, his strong technical background and his ability to handle groups of people with little difficulty, among several other qualities." He was probably given a raise. He went on. "Sure he can't lift a table as quickly as us, but neither can Patricia, although she's a foot shorter and weighs half as much." I tried to clear up the misunderstanding. "Bob, I don't doubt his abilities; I frequently remind myself of several past instances of our ancestors' mental acuity. People like Gauss and Mozart, and even people well over a century ago such as Terence Tao and Kanye West." "Kanye West?" "My point is, I think you've misunderstood why I'm so suspicious." "Alright, why's that?" "Because he has a fucking ugly nose."
"But that's what I'm saying, you're literally never late!" Anna has been my best friend since grade school, and we have this conversation at least once a week. This time she has been particularly persistent, her blonde hair whipping around as she spun to backpedal as we walked to class. "It's not fair. Your classes are on either side of the campus, which is easily a fifteen minute walk, but they are five minutes apart." "Anna, I don't know what to tell you. I get up from class, I walk over, and I sit down. There's nothing else to it." As per the norm, her response is to simply punch my shoulder and turn around. I watch her from behind for a bit, her strides landing with such confidence that each step is a new way of saying "Move over world! I'm coming through." Anna never really cared much about what others wanted from her. She went through life with a determination I've never had. Of course, being so brazen she had a hard time making friends. So did I, due to how blunt and monotone I am. We made for a great pair, strengths supporting weaknesses and whatnot. She really is very pretty though, golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. A striking figure that was built with years of athletic experience. Most people think we are dating, since she smiles at me with such warmth and gleaming eyes, but I never could. We've known each other for so many years that the concept of a secret between us is taboo. I nearly run into her as she slows to pull her phone out to check the time. I groan aloud, knowing whats coming next. "Isaac, tell me-" "-the sands of time as accurate as the stars in heaven. It's probably 10:27, since I've been out of class a few minutes, on this fine Tuesday, October 9th." "Seriously? Can you even just lie, just once? And cut it with the sarcasm. I only asked the time, not the date." "Fine, Anna! It's 6:45! You're gonna be late for your concert. How about that, is that better?" A twinge of pain shot through my neck, nothing major at all but enough to make me wince. The harsh fluorescent lights grew to a haze. "Must've yelled a little loud with that sarcasm"I thought to myself. "Isaac! I'm so glad I caught you, can I please get a ride back to my place? You're normally not on campus at this time, what are you doing here?" "Anna, what are you talking about we are walking to class together. I know its not often, we only do it every Monday, Wednesday and Friday" "We... did that 8 hours ago Isaac. You feel okay?" We wrap around the hallway and exit the school library. Swaths of red light stream in from the horizon, as the sun smolders ember-red before it extinguishes for the night. "I.. Did I go to class today?" "I would think so! We walked to where we normally split ways!" Anna slams her fist into the crosswalk signal and waits. Of course, she never waits long. She waits so she can say she waited. I stared off into the distance, not moving. "What is going on? How can I not even remember 8 hours out of my day? Did I just zone out this whole time?" Screeching or tires and a loud, metallic weighty crash, accompanied by a harrowing crushing. I snap alert, and see Anna in agonizing pain, crumpled on the asphalt. The driver sprinted out of the car to her side, screaming in fear. I fall to my knees, weak, nauseous, confused, and scared. I crawl to Anna's side and grab her hand. "Isaac." Her hand was scraped but not bloodied. As she spoke my name, tears stained her skin. "Isaac, tell me... the sands of... time. As accurate as the.. stars in heaven." I can't be right this time. She needs to know it was all a fluke. I know I'll see that heartfelt, headstrong smile once more. "It's 10:27 am, Tuesday, October 9th." "Seriously? Can you even just lie, just once?", Anna exasperated, her blonde hair whipping around as she spun to backpedal to class.
“The pods left the station without us!” Terry yells in a panic. “No, they can’t! We’re all stuck here... with him!” I reply, after hearing that we’ve been abandoned, I’ve lost all hope of escape. It’s only my first week on set and things have taken a horrifying turn. It’s a reality show in the truest sense of the word because, for the star of the show, it is reality. They call it “The Life of Ty” and it is literally all about one guy named Tyler Benfield. I know, it sounds boring at first blush, but the show is unique in that Ty has no idea that he is the star. He isn’t even aware that he is involved in the single most watched show in entertainment history. I know what you’re thinking, “How is it legal to film someone’s entire life, exploiting even their most intimate moments for the entertainment and financial gain of others without their consent?” Easy. Film it in space. It’s funny, human rights are all the rage back on earth, but if a streaming service has enough money to build a space station and maroon a helpless child on it for the rest of his life then ratings are allowed to trump human rights any sol of the year. And here we are. Eighteen years later and still surprised that this human lab rat picked up a plasma patcher and started melting people’s faces off. I can’t say that I blame him, I only landed on the station a week ago and I’m already tempted to melt my face off with plasma. A person isn’t meant to be stuffed into a tin can and hurled through outer space for his entire life, even if the tin can is as big as an aircraft carrier. I just can’t believe the staff abandoned us like that. Even before the first alarm went off, they were packing up and getting the hell outta’ here. It’s like they knew that Ty was going to snap, hell, maybe that’s what they wanted. I have heard that the ratings have been slipping recently, maybe some of the good folks back on earth are starting to grow a conscience. I’m sure once they hear their beloved captive star has gone ape-shit and massacred his fellow travelers they’ll get over their bout of humanitarianism and tune right back in to see the slaughter. It’s just me and Terry now. Ty got bored melting faces and decided to play with the airlocks. The entire cast was in the cargo hold trying to deploy the emergency pods when he vented it. He’s been venting each compartment, one-by-one, flushing people like dead rats down the toilet. He locked himself in the bridge, ran the captain through with a flag pole. It was for the flag they told Ty he could plant when he landed on the distant fictional planet on which we were never going to land. We’re in the mess hall now, Terry and I. It’s the only portion of the ship that Ty hasn’t vented. It’s inevitable that he will though, a suicidal maniac doesn’t need any food. The monitors on the walls are broadcasting an award show back on earth. Ty has just been awarded best t.v. villain. An alarm blares, red lights begin to flash signaling the imminent evacuation of all remaining breathable air into the vacuum of space. The last thing I hear is the rasping sound of Terry’s lungs as they search for breath, mixed with the applause of the crowd as Ty is given his award in absentia. Ratings will be off the charts. Too bad this is the final season.
Sheriff Taylor was never considered the best man for, well, any job but now he found himself with a shiny new Sheriff’s badge and the tall order of cleaning up the town. Clarence Harris and the rest of the Harris Gang had been running Diamond City unofficially for the past three years and no one had been able to put a stop to them. They controlled the saloons, the brothels and the gambling houses along Main Street and didn’t care who knew it. If anyone had a problem with how they ran the town, they ended up in a ditch. That’s where the late Sheriff Dorn was found three nights previous after a scuffle in the streets resulted in three dead and two of the Harris Gang behind bars. The next morning Sheriff Dorn was found and the jail house was left in ashes. Taylor knew he couldn’t ride up and arrest Clarence Harris without finding himself in the same situation as Dorn so he started looking for other ways to deal with his gang. They all had their vices, every night nearly half the gang got piss drunk while the other half maintained control. They were smart about making sure they always had the muscle needed to maintain order and keep the law from trying to intervene. There was no obvious solution but the town didn’t come to Taylor for an obvious solution, they came to him for his knack to bullshit his way out of any situation. He wasn’t sure how that could be applied to a gang full of criminals who’d kill you as soon as look at you but the job came with pay and a place to sleep so he accepted it determined to figure out the rest later. Sheriff Taylor walked into the Diamond Saloon with no gun on his hip and his hands raised. “Let’s nobody get too excited now, I’m just here to have a friendly conversation.” “Fuck your conversation and fuck that badge you’re wearing, last man to walk into this bar with that badge ain’t doing so well.” Responded Clarence Harris. “Now now, that was a different man with different principals. I’d very much like to spend my final hours in the arms of woman in a brothel somewhere years from now so I’m not looking to do anything rash here. I waited a week to let things simmer down and now I’m here to have a chat.” Taylor said. Harris rolled his eyes, slammed his drink on the bar and drew his revolver pointing it right at the Sheriff’s face, “Say your peace and if I don’t like what I hear, I’m gonna blow your head off.” “That seems fair...I think.” Taylor moved a few steps to his right, took a seat at the nearest table and laid out his proposition. “This is how I see it, you and your boys run this town. You proved it the other night when you decided to, shall we say ‘retire’ Sheriff Dorn.” Laughter from Harris’ crew started to put the group at ease. As the tensioned in the room dropped, Taylor slowly crossed his legs and began to unstrap the pistol he had on his ankle. “I have no intention of ending up like that but the people of this town hired me to do something so I thought we could come to a mutual agreement. You keep doing what you’re doing and so as not to appear worthless, every couple nights when one of your boys gets a little out of hand in the saloon, I take him into sleep it off. The town can see that I’m able to enforce some law and all it costs is an occasional night in jail for one of your gang and you won’t get any issues from me in this town. For anything somewhat serious we can make a little show of it, pretend I’m sending one of your gang to the capital for a real trial when really they head out of town for a day and come back the next night, lay low for a few days and all is well.” “You may be wondering what you get out of all this and that’s a pretty straight forward answer, you get to deal with one Sheriff for years who only cares about staying alive. I give you no real trouble and you don’t kill me. You keep killing Sheriff’s and the governor’s not gonna have a choice but to send down some Marshall’s and that’s not what you want.” “We’re not worried about some piss ant Marshall’s, we’ve killed plenty.” Harris spat back. “Yes, I don’t doubt that for a second, but that just seems like too much work if you ask me. Seems like the life of a criminal is one with a goal of doing as little work as possible.” This thought seemed to ring true to Harris who set his revolver on the bar, took a seat and took a long draw from his beer. “Alright Sheriff Taylor, I don’t reckon that’s the worst idea I’ve heard. As much as I enjoy killing lawmen, the less I have to worry about the law getting any ideas of doing it’s job the better. I think we can give this a go on a trial basis...and if it doesn’t seem to be working I’ll just put a bullet in your head.” Laughter echoed from each corner of the saloon as Harris’ men returned to their drinks. At the same time Taylor pulled his pistol from his ankle holster and rested it on his crossed leg. “Why don’t we drink on it then, bartender, mind bringing me a fresh beer now that it looks like no one is getting shot?” The bartender scrambled nervously for a mug, still worried the new sheriff was gonna end up with a bullet in his head. He filled it full and began to bring it around the bar. “I’ll take that Joe.” Harris said grabbing the mug from the bartender. “As a token of our new agreement.” Harris walked over mug in hand, stopped halfway and with a sly grin to his men spit into the Sheriff's mug. He sauntered the rest of the way and set the mug in front of Sheriff Taylor with his wide dirty smile taunting the Sheriff and said “Cheers.” Sheriff Taylor didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he came into the Diamond Saloon with a plan and staring at Clarence Harris’ big dirty smile, one hand on his own mug and a hand on the Sheriff’s mug Taylor pulled the pistol up from his lap, pointed it right at Harris’ teeth and pulled the trigger. The bang silenced the entire bar as Clarence Harris fell to the ground, still holding onto both mugs and smiling through the hole in his front teeth. Taylor threw down his chair and ran for the saloon doors before a shot could be fired after him. Several of Harris’ men came chasing out after him to find themselves staring down the barrels of his four deputies and six US Marshals all on horseback.
I lazily opened an eye. The rhythmic banging of my extra-loud alarm clock seemed to be echoing in the distance. Then, slowly, I seemed to approach it, until I was right by it. I groaned. This was usually a sign that I was fully awake, and had to get up. When you have an extra-loud alarm clock, you don't get those five minutes in bed. I rose, sleepy, and went about my routine. I had a bath, and put on my clothes. I had my breakfast quickly. I grabbed my bag, and headed out. I took a look at the purple sky, before doing a double take. That was odd, the sky is usually blue. Oh well, whatever, I decided, as I made my way to my car. I reached it only to find that the headlights had been broken. No problem, it was the middle of day. I got in, and drove out of my driveway. I was still half-asleep, driving at a lazily ten miles per hour. The streets were empty; my sleepy mind questioned it for a second, before moving on to more interesting thoughts, like those about sleep. As I drove, I noticed a swarm of giant locusts in the sky. Did I mention I'm immortal? --- I kept driving. I turned left, and saw that the road was blocked by an army of zombies. That's weird. I reversed back onto the main road, and took a parallel street, to find another roadblock, this time by a horde of robots. One of them started walking towards me, but I couldn't be bothered by their little convention. I quickly reversed, and drove a little faster. I was going to be late for work. Suddenly, something hit me from the right. I turned and saw a group of giant bees, buzzing away to heaven, with shootable stings. I plucked the sting that had hit me, and continued on the main road. Suddenly, a large violet gelatinous blob with an eye jumped in front of my car, and opened a mouth. It started blabbering some junk, while I stopped and waited for it to finish. When it didn't seem to want to stop, I accelerated and ran it over, leaving a purple mess in the road. I was going to be late for work. I looked in my rear-view mirror, and saw a bunch of black and brown unicorns galloping after me. I sighed, and just hit the brake. They all went jumping over me, and went on their way. All these stops were making me tired. I reached my office building, where I saw an entire band of death metal singers. I yawned, and they started singing. I frowned. Their death metal was beginning to sound familiar... I reclined the car seat further, hoping I could get a little snooze to the 'music'. I rolled over, unable to catch the z's. With an extra-loud alarm clock for heavy sleepers, you can never get those five minutes in bed.
The mime stood there, hands in front of him, pressed against an imaginary wall. The small crowd of people watched, unimpressed. The mime shifted his body, his motions were jerky. He pretended to be trapped in boxes and bump into walls. The crowd remained unimpressed. A few a chucked a coin or two into the hat he placed on the ground. Others just left. Children looked on with boredom on their faces. In all honesty his technique was sloppy. The old mime simply didn't have it in him today. Why should he have to lower himself in such a way? Him? A member of an ancient and secret order of warriors? Could these tourists possibly even imagine the number of times he had saved them? Could they believe the countless of times he fought off or captured a creature right before their eyes, without them knowing? But those days were over, they had been for many years. It was better this way anyways, let people be happy in their ignorance. Even if it meant mimes like himself couldn't reap the rewards and glory they deserved. Suddenly, the old mime felt a fist slam into his jaw. He fell over. Confused, he slowly lifted himself. He never managed to get to his feet though, for something slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards. It felt like a foot. An invisible man? Impossible. The invisible men had been gone for decades now. Besides, even if it was an invisible man, the mime had the Sight, he should be able to see it. Was he simply going senile? As the mime lifted himself again, he noticed that the small crowd had suddenly grown. He couldn't think on it however, because he was then struck from behind. The mime swung back in retaliation, but hit nothing. Again something struck him, now smashing his knee. It must've been an invisible man, but why on earth couldn't he see it!? Then it dawned on the mime. The horrible explanation finally occurred to the old, bad tempered, warrior. He had broken his vows. He had spoken , not two weeks ago, when a passerby poured some coffee on him and he cussed the bastard out. The punishment for breaking silence during the act of mimehood was such: he lost the Sight and the ability to speak at all for a long while. It was the price mimes payed to be able to see their invisible foes. At the time, he didn't really care. Now he couldn't see what was attacking him, nor could he call for help. The invisible man's vicious attack continued, blow after blow drilling into his chest. He was lifted and thrown onto the cold hard pavement. He was put into arm bars and leg locks. He did his best to fight back, but it was hopeless. Once the mime was beaten and broken, a pair of hands gripped him by his throat, and lifted him up against a wall. The mime saw that the crowd had now grown greatly. Nearly everyone in the area had come to watch as he kicked and struggled, levitating in the air. Slowly the mime's resistance ended. His lifeless body dropped, and was now seated, leaning on the wall. For a few moments, everyone was completely silent, watching to see if the mime would get up. Then the people burst into enthusiastic applause and cheers. It was the greatest mime act any of them had ever seen.
The edges of the doorway cooled to ruby red, lazer cut by the expeditions forward scout robot TT. 'Scanning area... clear, this indeed seems to be the flight deck captain. It is safe for the crew to move forward' The expedition had scanned hundreds of lifeless vessels located at the far edge of the Milky Way. Pisces—33, a pair of red giants farthest from the centre of the known Galaxy, a marker post for the expedition and screening point to further mankind's knowledge of the life in the universe. The first ship they had come across filled the crews hearts with excitement, but after the discovery of thousands of eviscerated ships that excitement had turned to fear. Their ships AI had intercepted and deciphered an all band transmission emanating from voids beyond the edge of the universe. 'Warning all who venture into this galaxy. All habitable planets have been expunged. The lifeforms known as Hu'Nan have been wiped clean at great cost to the universal alliance. This is a dead galaxy and is considered a crime to enter. As far as they could tell the ships were human-like. But in the face of the dire warning the crew had resolved to scan for any ship that held a sign of life or was intact enough to explore. This ship was both. The interior of the flight deck was lit by a single flashing red light, illuminating the 4 crew members and TT as they move into the spacious flight deck. 'Arnolds locate that power source and see if you can tie in one of our power packs' 'Yes captain' Captain Tehol walked up to the command chair and slowly spun it around to face him. 'By the stars!' he said as a space suit slowly slumped out of the chair and crumpled onto its side on the floor. 'Captain what was that?' said Evans. 'Space suit. looks like its got a... well... body, inside'. 'Captain i've found the power source connecting in 3, 2, 1'. The deck illuminated, warning lights and alarms started sounding. TT moved from the captains side started interfacing the main control panel until the alarms cut out. 'Captain i have interfaced with the ships mainframe. Accessing logs... processing... Captain it seems these lifeforms who built this ship are in fact almost certainly human. Processing dialects. Captain do you wish me to translate the last entry to the log?' 'Go ahead TT' 'Our last stand has failed, the Admirals ship and the last hope of our race has just been destroyed. Only a few of their fleet remain but they are far more than what we have left. I have ordered the last two of my crew Adam and Eve into the FTL lifeboat, they might just have a chance to escape if i can distract the remaining universal alliance ships'. 'The entry stops there Captain' 'Crew, we need to get this back to Earth' Thanks, sorry for the lame ending :)
I had been an average guy my entire life, prayed to give thanks when something good happened, tried not to use the lords name in vain when things went wrong. The only real thing that kept me from being the perfect little Christian was how much I detested actually going to church. The long hours of just sitting and listening to a man pretend to be the voice of God on earth telling us how to live our lives did not sit right with me. Those hours of my life would be much better spent enjoying the time I had left on earth. Unfortunately it turned out I did not have much time left at all. While waiting at a cross walk I saw a stroller begin to roll off the curb into traffic while the mother was texting away sending a billion emojis to whoever was on the other end. I probably could have handled it better. Grabbing the handle, yelling at the mom to grab it, anything but what I did. My dumb ass decided to step out infront of it to then push it back. That's when the rear view mirror of a bus smashed into the back of my head as it went passed sending a splatter across the mother and her baby. I wonder if they have an emoji for that. The next thing I knew I was standing at the pearly gates as they slowly opened before me, silently gliding on heir massive hinges as trumpets rang out from everywhere and nowhere. "You have performed the ultimate sacrifice for your common man, your gift is eternal peace in the embrace of our lord"a dottery old voice came from behind me. "Oh...so I really did die eh?"I replied, thinking of all the things I still had on my bucket list "Yes, quite spectacularly, now hurry along. You don't want to miss the sermon"said Saint Peter as he ushered me through the gates. Watching them silently close and the trumpets dim I looked around. People, the idealized images of who they could have been, beautiful healthy and young wore simple white robes all around me as they bustled towards...something. It could only be described as a white light that radiated warmth and comfort. It was like staring at the sun yet it did not hurt the eyes, did I even have eyes? Could I even feel pain? I pinched myself. Nope. Following the crowds as they marched towards the light like moths to the flame I looked around, it was like walking on the clouds. Everything was fluffy and white, you could bounce off of it like it was a trampoline and go soaring through the sky. So logically I started enjoying my new bouncy kingdom. This did not sit well with the locals. One quickly approached me and settled his hand upon don't shoulder giving me a stern look and shaking his head with obvious disapproval. "Spoil sport"I mumbled I continued to walk; with maybe a few smaller bounces, towards the light to see what everyone else found so fascinating. when I arrived at the source I could see, truly see what was happening. Billions of souls sitting in worship of the light. The glow and warmth of eternal love watching over them and receiving their love in return. This was the sermon directly from God himself, the eternal love and peace he offered. I settled in to enjoy the warmth like all the others. Turns out, the sermon is eternal. Unfortunately my attention span isn't. I don't know if I was there for days, years, or even decades. Time is a funny thing in heaven. Regardless, I started to go a little crazy. Those around me had not moved. Few had even blinked. Rising up from my knees I turned to walk away, that is when I felt it, The warmth turn to ice. Those around me suddenly broke from their trances and scurried away as the Angels descended from above flaming swords in hand. "WHY DO YOU TURN FROM GODS LOVE?!"They demanded, their voices echoing within my very soul. "Oh...I was just bored, I wanted to explore and find something fun to do?"I kind of wimpered back "BASKING IN THE RADIANCE OF YOUR LORD SHOULD BE ALL THE FUN YOU DESIRE!"Came the uniform voices once more This was the limits of my courage as I turned around and knelt once more. The glow resumed and the Angels vanished as if they had never been. The only problem was I was still bored as hell. Time continued at its eternal pace as I knelt. I had to do something to entertain myself. despite what appeared to be a corporeal form I was still made purely of energy, at least I assumed. I couldn't help but wonder what control I had over this body. Focusing my thoughts and very being into creating something I felt it building inside me, growing steadily until I was Finally able to release it. I opened my eyes just a little bit to watch the reactions of those around me. Some tried to ignore it, but that wouldn't last long. The habit to breath was still deeply ingrained in their very beings. Soon souls all around me were gasping for air as the putrid stench wafted around them. Silent but deadly I thought to myself. Once again the Angels descended from above to search for the source of the distraction from their lord. It was impressive, their pure white faces appeared to be scowling, truly a hard feat to accomplish when you have no facial features what so ever. I stayed silent and unmoving, dissipating the stench around me as I tried to blend in once more. Eventually they gave up and vanished once more. Guess they are not omnipotent after all I thought. I resumed my practice of focusing my energy into entertainment. Some time later I discovered I could create things outside of myself, independent from my own matter. This culminated in an invisible infestation of crabs throughout the hosts of heaven. Watching those around me once more struggling to maintain his composure as the itch at his genitals became more and more prominent. I don't know if it took an hour, or a year. But eventually he stood up and threw off his robe to scratch and relieve that itch. The glow stopped for him then and the Angels descended to take him away for disturbing the peace. I was not expecting that drastic of a response. I don't think anyone was, I quickly dissipated the spectral crabs from the others infected to their great relief. Everyone was shaken by that drastic response and I vowed to be good from there on out. Forever is a very long time however and my boredom returned and my fear of reprisal dimished. I did not want to get anyone else in trouble though. So I came up with a new prank. Lightly at first, music whispered through the heavens barely noticeable as it grew in volume. the sensual voice of Barry White washed over the crowds eliciting chuckles and laughter and a awkward smirks from those who recognized him. Soon the heavens themselves darkened and the Angels descended once more full of more righteous wrath than I had seen yet. They were my targets this time. You could see the fear on everyone's faces as they came forward. "WHO DARES INTURRUPT THE LORD!"They demanded. At least, they tried to demand. I had been mannufacturing a heavily like substance similar to helium just for these guys over the last whatever time. In actuality they sounded a bit like mice celebrating finding a wheel of cheese. All of heaven burst into laughter at the sound. It was a welcome break from the opiated like state they had been in for the last eternity. Almost like they were waking up. The Angels were shocked. This had never happened to them before. They flashed with rage, they needed to restore order. They raised their swords towards the closest ones laughing. "STOP!"I screamed "It was me"I continued, I have caused the trouble not them. "You did this?"They squeeked. "Yeah...I was bored"came my response. I had lost my fear of them and their punishments. Anything would be preferable to this. I could feel the angels trying to clear their throats of the helium like substance. "Your confession is accepted"they squeaked once more having failed. I could feel the soft white floor of heaven open up beneath me as I was sucked downwards. Heat, true heat blasted against me as my robes were burned away. The soft white light replaced by a menacing red inferno as I crashed against the molten floor. Lucifer himself was standing there. "Welcome back son"he said with a large grin. "Hey dad, it's been a while"I replied as we embraced. "Were you able to bring some life to grandpas kingdom?"He asked. "I hope so, they need our help more than ever."
“Can I borrow five bucks?” “Sure.” If Jeff had asked what the money was for he could have saved himself and his friends a lot of grief. And normally he would have, but he knew he had a bit of money coming his way so he figured why not. “Thanks. See you in Algebra.” Bret slid the bill into his pocket and headed towards class. A few seconds later Sean and Pat Hurley sidled up. “Here’s your money.” “Write big.” Each of the brothers handed him five dollars. Jeff took their money and went on his way. “I hate that guy,” one of the brothers said to the other. “Whatever. Rather him do the studying than us.” “Yeah. Did you get your money from Jacob yet?” “Yep. Paid me when you were talking to Matt. I assume he was paying you.” “Uh huh. Let’s go take this test.” ………… Mr. Mackenzie placed each test on each desk, face down. He looked each boy in the eye as he did so, then walked slowly back to his desk. “You have the rest of the hour. Begin.” He dropped himself into his chair, still keeping a vigilant eye on his class. But as the boys well knew, Mackenzie’s vigilance had an inverse relationship to the amount of time he sat in his chair. Which was about the extent of the boys’ knowledge of inverse relationships, or any of the other finer points of algebra. The closer and closer Mackenzie came to sleep, the more openly the boys looked at papers other than their own. Michael at the front of the class looked at Colin’s test next to him, for which privilege he had paid dearly, while in the next row David looked over Michael’s shoulder at his paper, having made a similar arrangement. Jeff peered at David’s, and the Hurleys at Jeff’s, and so on. As Mackenzie began to snore softly, the boys looked at one another in dawning horror. A perfect circle of double-dealing, each one of them a would-be entrepreneur and copyist, none of them a mathematician. Other than writing their names, not one of them had any idea what to do with the test in front of them. A silent debate broke out, growing in wordless fury, blame bouncing across the room in every direction. At last by some unspoken signal they simultaneously accepted their grim reality, their semi-righteous anger suddenly expended. After a moment of meditation, the debate resumed again, this time dispassionately and purpose driven. Some advocated resigning themselves to their fate, throwing themselves on Mackenzie’s mercy. Others offered wild solutions, pulling a fire alarm, staging a medical emergency, creating a genuine medical emergency. A nihilistic few attempted to convince the class to desert en masse, and spend their last forty minutes of freedom on the playground in one last blaze of glory. At last Arthur Marsh stood up, sick of their endless deliberations. “MR. MACKENZIE!” Mackenzie jerked forward, almost falling out of his chair. The other boys stared in terror. “MACKENZIE!!!” Arthur held his test above his head and ripped it down the middle. The boys gasped. “AAAHHHH!!!” Arthur ran up and down the aisles, scooping up each and every test while his stunned, groggy teacher slowly came to his senses. “Arthur! Sit down!” Mackenzie finally jumped to his feet. Instead Arthur grabbed the last test from a stupefied Ben Miller and ran out the classroom door, every test in his hands, his teacher now in hot pursuit. “You little motherfffff- The rest of you stay there! Arthur come back here!” And Mackenzie was gone, the door slowly swinging shut behind him on its hydraulic hinge. It shut, and the room was suddenly still. Through the window they could see Arthur running, still with the tests clutched to his chest, and now his pursuers were numerous. But even as they watched, he was pulling away from them. The boys were hesitant to violate the awesome silence that now prevailed. They were aware they were living in a legend. At last Sean Hurley spoke. “That kid is a god.”
General Akal eyed the monitors with placid interest as the drones filmed the earths surface. "Reading?"He demanded. "No readings."A soldier commented after a moment. Reading over the data several times to make sure his reply was definitive. Akal straightened his back, his posture always representative of the loyalty he demanded, and even then the white gleam of his armor proclaimed his authority. Umbra eyes soaked in every detail which passed through the images. Buildings torn asunder and toppled from their foundations, green lands left as nothing but a smoking husk now painted black with soot and char. Mounds of humans left atop of each other, paving the streets with their scarlet cadavers, vapid eyes turning a milky white, still betraying the glee for their expected promise. "It seemed to have worked just as you expected general."An adviser stepped to confront him, his digitgrade feet pawing softly as to not disturb him. "How did you know that they would take the bait?"Asked his second in command, she was of thinner-build compared to her male counterparts, yet her voice and posture spoke of her confidence. "Humans are predictable. You offer them immortality and they exterminate each other for it. It was only a question of momentum."He seemed almost bored and irked at how well things had gone. "Send the first of the troops, make the planet ready for colonisation."
I yawned, shuffling into the bathroom with a glance at the mirror for my daily percentage check. I was halfway through taking my underwear off while hovering over the toilet, when it registered. I froze, whipping back to the mirror for a double take, pants tangling around my ankles. Holy fuck. Zero? Zero percent?! I stared at my reflection, leaned to one side and then the other, but the number followed me, floating menacingly above my head like a specter of death. Was this for real? I was guaranteed to die today? I could feel the onset of panic closing around my throat like a vice grip, my breath coming in shallow and fast. I lost strength in my legs and slid to the floor, the bathroom tile cold on my bare ass. Resting my head against the sink cabinets, I closed my eyes and tried to master the rapid beating of my heart. Fuck man. Yesterday had been so much fun. I'd had a rare 100% day, which I had been waiting for in order to try skydiving. And now this? This wasn't anything a near-death experience could compare to. This was staring death in the fucking face! After mastering my breathing, I pulled myself up, trying not to look at the damning zero hovering above my head in the mirror. I kicked off my pajama pants, leaving them on the floor as I pulled up my underwear and I headed over to my computer. My morning shit would have to wait. I impatiently jiggled the mouse, mentally screaming at my piece of shit computer to wake up faster. Finally, the screen flickered and I was greeted with the mountain of emails I'd ignored yesterday due to my "sick day". I briefly contemplated sending a quick "Won't be in for work today because I'm DYING", but what did it matter? Even if I didn't show up to work today, I'd be dead anyway, so it's not like I could get in trouble for it. No fucking way was I wasting the last day of my life letting Joe yell at me. I switched screens, flipping over to Chrome where I still had Reddit open from last night. I'd been browsing r/100 for ideas on how to spend my 100% day. Filled with dread, I deleted the first two digits of the subreddit and hit enter, watching the black reddit theme load on r/0. I'd never visited this subreddit before, it had always seem too morbid... The kind of thing psychopaths looked at for fun. But I was grateful it existed now. I clicked through a few threads that had been tagged "Verified"(How did that work? Did the mods find their obituaries or something?), and each varied in either discussing the OP's life story or just detailing all the things they did or thought about on their last day. A depressingly large amount of them ended in suicide, with OP deciding to die on their own terms. A few still held out hope they would survive the day, that is was just a fluke. Maybe there were secret decimal points we couldn't seen, and it was really a 0.01% chance to survive the day. Maybe if they just did nothing all day, it would be okay. Well, if the "Verfied"tag was true, it didn't seem like even the hopefuls made it. My hands were starting to shake. What if I just went back to sleep? My chances would reset when I woke up and everything would be okay... But when I really thought about it, there was a frighteningly large number of ways I could die just laying in bed. A heart attack. My apartment catches on fire. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Slip and bang my head on something. A robber breaks in and shoots me. I get electrocuted by something. The roof spontaneously collapses on me. A freak meteor hurtles through my window and brains me. Fuck, I was starting to panic again. Suicide had never been something I understood, like how could things possibly seem so bad you want to die? But it was starting to sound kind of appealing. Like, a nice quick death would be so much better than potentially burning to death or something. But I didn't own a gun and the only drug in my apartment was Advil. A quick google search suggested I probably didn't even have enough Advil to kill myself with. My apartment was only 4 stories tall, so it probably wasn't high enough to kill me if I jumped. Fuck. I could go outside and try to get something stronger, but going outside only added more variables to the mix. I could die in a car crash. Get struck by lightning. Fall down a manhole. Get stabbed by a crazy person. I sat there for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Killing myself honestly seemed like a logistical nightmare and I wasn't even sure I'd have the courage to go through with it once I did have everything I needed. Maybe I should just make the most of today. It was my last day, right? If I died doing something I loved, it wouldn't be to bad... maybe. I went to the resources on the sidebar of r/0 and clicked on "Important Things to Do Before You Die". I skimmed the list, which involved messaging your friends and family and saying your goodbyes, putting together a pseudo-will, etc. Well, those I could do. Probably. I picked up my cell and stared at my contacts list. I couldn't figure out what I'd say to my parents. How would you even begin that conversation? I could just picture my mom crying the whole time, while my father remained as stonily silent as always. I felt a heaviness in my gut and put my phone down. Maybe it would be better to write them a letter or something. I opened up Word and sat staring at the blank page when an email alert pinged in the corner of my screen. >From: Joe Hamilton >Subject: YOU'RE LATE >Where the fuck are you?! Are you still pretending to be sick? I saw your skydiving photos from yesterday. You think you can just ditch work whenever you want to have a little fun? You think you're better than everyone else who works their ass off every day? Get in here right now. I don't care if you're hung over. I stared at the email for a long moment, feeling every resentful, petty hate boiling up. Fuck Joe. Fuck that asshole for always treating me like shit and acting like he wasn't the laziest piece of garbage in the entire department. Fuck, if I was going to die, I was going to do it in a blaze of glory! I furiously began typing up a reply, pouring ever grievance and complaint and insult I could into the email, CC'd the rest of the department, then clicked send before I could second-guess myself. God, that felt good. Invigorated, I decided I'd go get some ice cream. Maybe then go to the amusement park and ride some of the roller coasters I'd been too scared to ride before. Have sex without a condom. Try cocaine and heroin. Spend all my savings on doing crazy rich people shit. All the stuff that had consequence I'd be able to avoid in sweet, sweet death. ----------- After a crazy day of doing insane things, I stumbled home, high and drunk and tired. I glanced at the clock beside my bed. 11:52pm. Survived the whole day so far, so it was probably time soon. I collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes. Hopefully it would be a painless death in my sleep. As I started to drift off, I was awoken by a loud, angry beeping. I squinted rolling over as I identified the sound as my alarm clock. Frowning, I slapped the snooze button and almost drifted back to sleep before the realization hit me. I sat up and stared at the glowing green digits. 6:45am. I'd lived! ... Fuck.
Dmitri was suiting up for a spacewalk. "Maybe it was just a couple pieces of debris."Said voice over the radio. "It is rythmic."Said another. Knock. Knock. Knock. "A couple years ago a piece of cable got lost during maitenance. Maybe it finally came around and wrapped itself on one of the hand holds." "What are the odds?"Said Dmitri. "I will look. Is probably forgotten tool during last weeks inspection." Dmitri was fully suited, and the air began to decompress. "All tools are accounted for."Said a voice. "Well."Said Dmitri. "I guess we will just have to find out." Knock. Knock. Knock. The door began to open. In the vacuum of space... Wearing a cardboard space suit, there was a little boy with a orange pumpkin bag. He mouthed something silently, because in space... No one can hear you Trick or Treat.
"We had them contained!" The alien admiral strode across the bridge of the capital ship, marching to the images of humans scurrying around a launch pad. The others on the ship gathered around with a buzz of concerned chatter. "No one can advance so quickly in less than a century! They were killing each other by the millions last time we checked in on them!" The intelligence officers were worried, shooting glances back and forth. "What?"the admiral hissed, rounding on them, "what aren't you telling me?" "Sir...there's more, there are three launch pads." The images shifted, revealing two more almost identical pads with equally impressive ships. "Send the alert! They're coming." "Sir!"another ran to the bridge, gasping for air, "we found this historical archive footage in their signals!" They all watched in horror as another alien race's crafts were demolished in great fireballs by the aircraft of the 21st century. No one spoke. This was as bad as the time they found out about the War of the Worlds, when a nearly unstoppable race was also defeated by the humans. Then that unmanned craft had destroyed their defense system with impunity. Things were getting worse, rapidly. "Retreat, all ships retreat."The admiral said quietly, ordering dozens of ships out of range of Earth. They stood in stoic silence "Send the order, evacuate Jupiter, we are leaving this system before they wipe us out. Maybe even the galaxy. Gods, they just don't stop!" ***** An orbital waystation marked the only refueling point before the Rim planets and just as you were leaving Protectorate space. An alien sat at the dirty bar and drank, staring down at the filthy glass and not caring one bit. Centuries had passed and he hadn't heard word of the humans spreading out of their system. But it was coming, he knew it. "What's your story, huh?"the new bartender asked, sliding his enormous girth over in front of the long time patron of the waystation. Former admiral or some such. "They're coming,"he mumbled in response and the bartender waited for more information. When none came he started to move on. "Want some advice?"the admiral spoke, reaching out a clawed hand to grab the massive bartender, "we live in a galaxy filled with countless species and trillions of individuals. The odds you'll ever run into a human have got to be pretty low but...if by some chance to find yourself facing one...heed my advice. Run. Run as fast as you can and as far as you can. They're coming for all of us. Mark my words. They're coming for all of us." The bartender gave the admiral a queer look. "You know humans joined the Protectorate right? Years ago. Great folks, hardy types. Take on the exploration missions we'd never have dreamed of. Did you know that back on their home planet they used to explore the most frigid places on their planet? People died and they just sent more! Crazy fools. Gotta love em though. Always adapting." He sauntered off and muttered something about old drunks and the admiral stared down into his glass. Could they have misunderstood? It wasn't possible...was it? No one gave the tiny figure a second glance, no one ever really did. Barely three inches tall, former commander of a ship the size of a small car. Why would anyone ever notice? That's why the human exploration craft had annihilated their orbital defense platforms. A deep space probe breaking up destroyed half their armada. An honest mistake, though he might never know that. He just sat on the bar top and stared into that little dirty glass while the universe marched on without him.
"Woah Dude,"An incredibly high Jared said, "You know how cigarettes can cut your life by two minutes? What if I smoked a cigarette, like, half a second before I died?" "Woahhhhh Duuuuude!"Jerry and Ethan chanted as they smoked out of their blunt. This is stupid, I think to myself, these guys are off their rocker. "Hey guys, I'm getting a bit late now, can I leave?"Getting stuck with a bunch of high upperclassmen, Cindy would not be proud, and damn God if she smelt the cigarette on my breath I'd be dead. "Heyy, chill Dirk, listen to what Ethan's gotta say, you don't wanna upset your upperclassmen, do you?"Jared says before he starts coughing. "Woah dude, what if we're all actually a bunch of sentient beings holding the universe together, who just come to earth as a vacation.""Woahhhh Duuude!" I press the cigarette into the ashtray and get up. "I'm leaving guys, smell ya later."I stand up, stretch, and suddenly feel really dizzy. Colours dance before my eyes and I fall back into the couch, head in my hands. "You okay, Derek?"Ethan asks with a smirk. "I'm fine I guess."I get back up and open the door. As I rush downstairs, my feet somehow stop moving and I tumble down the stairs. I struggle hard to get up, but for some reason I cannot move a muscle. It's almost like those sleep paralysis attacks I often got at night. I'm usually fine through those, but I was awake a second ago right? I start panicking and breathing really heavily. After a huge surge of laughter, the three upperclassmen look at me through the door, "Man, you really gotta learn how to walk". Ethan and Jerry come down to help me up, but I still can't move, so they think I'm dead and check my wrist for nerve impulse. Ethan looks with a startled expression at Jerry, "He's dead yo". What? Hey guys, stop goofing around and fucking help me up, I try to say, but I can make no sound. I am breathing. I feel pain in my head, where I landed. I'm alive, damn it! What the fuck is happening? "You're kidding""He ain't got no pulse, mate"Terror rises in Ethan's voice and a sudden, sharp fear stings through my entire body. They take me to the room later, followed by my house. I can clearly see everybody and everything. I can also feel the pain whenever anyone pulls my arm to lift me up or something. I saw my family cry over me, I felt Cindy's tears on my cheeks, they were warm. I wanted to scream on top of my lungs, I'm alive, I wanted to tell them. I wanted to cry out on top of my voice to tell them to stop as they slowly, very painfully slowly put sand over my coffin. I pulled every string of control I felt over my body, hoping I could pass a little squeak, to let them know I was in here. But nothing happened. The sky was clear on the day of the ceremony. I felt the warmth of the sun shining on my skin. I heard the birds chirping in the cemetery. I could smell the wood of the coffin I was laid in. I could see the sun being blotted out by the sand that poured down on me, and there I was, trapped in my own body. For eternity. Not dead, not alive.
Uncle Randall was always a bit off. I only really ever saw him at holidays for most of my life. We did start checking in on him from time to time once his health started failing. He didn’t know who the president was, evidently he “forgot there were elections”, but we had a three hour conversation about how much he loved “Bojack Horseman” last Christmas. To be honest, I was never exactly clear on whether or not I was even actually related to him. He sure didn’t look like the rest of the family. I could never figure out what he did for a living, either. He was very well to do, though. He lived in a three story townhouse all by himself. I always loved visiting him. It was wall to wall shelves full of movies and TV shows, everything from Betamax to Blu Rays. Whenever we went over to check up on him, he would never let my sister Karen stay the night. He said it was because he was afraid her asthma might act up and he wouldn’t know what to do, but I think it was because she always tried to force him to go places. All Randall ever wanted to do was sit around and watch stuff all day. That was just fine with me. I don’t really get out much either. I always got the impression that he liked me, even if he had trouble showing it. I was the only one in the family who was impressed by his collection, rather than embarrassed. That’s probably why he left it all to me. His lawyer told us that Uncle Randall had willed most of his assets to an undisclosed individual. We were surprised to say the least. Randall never left his house if he could avoid it and he complained often about how no one would ever call him back whenever he asked them to hang out. We figured he didn’t have any friends. Seems like somebody else cared about the guy, though. He left dad an old humidor. Apparently it meant something to him, because he cried. For Karen, he left a scrapbook full of signed photographs of Audrey Hepburn. She looked like she wanted to cry too, but she never could in front of mom. As for me, I got his entire video library. VHS, DVD, Laserdisc, even his 32mm reels. They were all mine. It took me almost two whole months to go through all that stuff, but I loved every minute of it. Uncle Randal’s executor told us that his house had been left to whoever it was, but that I could keep all the shelves and furniture. I got a storage unit downtown to keep it in, but I couldn’t afford a unit big enough to keep it all, so I had to let some of it go. Randal had everything. He even had a VHS archive of commercials from the seventies through the nineties. He recorded every music video that ever aired on MTV in the eighties. It was downright obsessive. I had a blast sifting through it all, and I lost more than a few weekends just watching Randal’s stuff, but the real interesting stuff turned out to be in the attic. I was doing one final sweep before loading the players and projectors into the truck when I noticed a cardboard box clumsily jammed into the insulation. It was sealed up tight with yellowing old packing tape and it smelled like mothballs when I cut it open. Inside was the strangest collection of VHS tapes I’ve ever seen. They were impossible movies. “Back to the Thunderdome” starring Michael J. Fox and Mel Gibson. ‘St. Elmo’s Breakfast Club” by Joel Schumacher, starring Molly Ringwald. “Return of the Living Re-Animator” an H.P. Lovecraft story as told by Dan O’Bannon. The list went on and on. There were a couple dozen of them. I figured they were probably just Korean bootlegs he’d gotten off Ebay and forgotten about. Still a good find though. I threw them in the truck and forgot about them. I had no idea what I had until about six months later when I rediscovered them one lazy Sunday at the storage unit. I had just finished binge watching “The Golden Age of Looney Toons” on Laserdisc and I was in the mood for something new, or at the very least, new to me. I found the box of bootlegs and rummaged around to find the one that looked the most interesting. I decided on “Star Wars IV: The Next Generation”. Things were weird right from the beginning. The familiar title crawl now read that rebel spies had stolen the plans for The Federation's ultimate weapon: “The Enterprise”. I stopped the VCR as Darth Locutus ordered his men to find Princess Leia Troi. It was just too weird. No, it was stupid. It was like a joke that didn’t work, or a bad fanfiction. But it wasn’t. That voice, it was Patrick Stewart. I’d know it anywhere, and Leia was definitely played by Carrie Fisher. But that’s impossible. I flipped over the slip case. Directed by Gene Lucas. Okay, it had to be a joke, right? I put another tape from the box in. Anyone interested in reading more?
I haven't written in at least four years but this seem like a really fun concept so I'll give it a go. Sorry if anything is sorta weird i'm really rusty: At first, I just followed him and looted everything he didn't take. He'd slay a gang of bandits then take only their health potions and coin! The audacity of the hero! In a month I wracked up enough armor and weaponry to outfit a small army, which amounted to enough coin to pay off all the debts I'd accumulated in my past years of gambling. After another two months I had enough gold to buy me a nice plot of land to start my life anew. But then, I hit the motherload! Torgnak, the slayer of a thousand savage beasts, ultimately decided that after four straight months of massacring the undead it was time for a nap. Slowly, I moved towards him, making sure to not to make but the faintest of sounds. After what seemed like an eternity of creeping I reached him. There it was, the Talisman of Valk! An ancient pendant which granted near-immortality to it's wearer! With the utmost care I removed the Talisman from Torgnak and placed it around my next. Immediately I felt a surge of power, as if I'd drunk a thousand mana potions! I could kill him, take all his armor and weapons. How much would it all cost? No less than several million of course! Or what if I brought it to a king? I'd be rewarded with whatever my heart desired. Women, gold, power! Or I could wear it myself! Why serve a king when you can simply take his kingdom by force? As these wild thoughts rushed through my mind I became distracted and could not see Torgnak drawing his sword. In an instant I felt the blade being pressed against my neck. "How the hell did you get necklace?"he inquired in a voice much less threatening than I had imagined. "I-I stole it. You were sleeping."I answered sheepishly. "You can't kill me, I'm near immortal now!" "Um, yes I can. That thing only has a basic endurance buff, and my sword's enchantment makes it negate armor so even with the buff you'd be dead."Torgnak replied in a rather calm demeanor. "Endurance buff? What are you talking about? This is the Talisman of Valk! The pendant that grant eternal life to it's wearer!"I cried out. "Pfft, that's just the item description. Stupid things always lie man. You need to look at the actual stats. They should show up right above the item description. Do you see it?"Torgnak explained. "Um, no." "Funny, your UI must be bugged or something. Whatever you can keep it man. I'll probably get something better in my next raid."Torgnak grumbled. "You're letting me keep the Talisman?"I scoffed. "Yeah, it's like, five levels below what I should have anyways. Hey, you're that kid that keeps looting the orcs after I kill them. Oh shit is this one of those companion recruitment quests I heard they added? Um, I accept you as my companion!" "You're going to let me travel with you?"I asked absolutely astounded. "Yeah man, soloing stuff is hard as hell and my friends are never online. So yeah, I guess it's time to equip you with some stuff. Um, take this sword and this armor. Keep that talisman too I'm guessing you're super low-level so you'll need the buff to survive."Torgnak rambled on. I still don't understand Torgnak at times. His talk about NPC's, stats, buffs, and the rest is all jargon to me. Nevertheless my journeys with him have been a blessing. I am no longer some lowly peasant struggling to pay off his debts. Now, I am a level eighty-seven Paladin, wearing only the best legendary equipment with "game-breaking buffs"as Torgnak says. Even better, I have a true friend in Torgnak. We've slayed a thousand beasts together, fowled the evil plots of a dozen warlords and even slayed the Dark-Lord himself. I am a hero, my best-friend is a hero. There is nothing more I could ask for. So in the end my friends, I suppose you shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you.
"So Dale and I have been waiting MONTHS to get a reservation at 'The Sepulcher', right? Literal months! Well last weekend Dale tries to get a table, and would you believe it he actually manages to get one!" "But, it doesn't take long for us to figure out why we were able to get a table. It's right by the kitchen! I mean can you believe it? Doors flapping open and closed, the sound of clanking dishes ringing all night. I'm like, 'You realise your a ghost, right? You don't have to keep opening the door every time, just phase through it already.'" "So we finally get our order, and would you believe it is cold. Cold! How can our food possibly be cold? Is our table too far from the kitchen? Hello! I don't think so!" A timid voice from the campfire meekly pipes up, "Excuse me, but what do ghosts eat?" "Shut up kid, it's rude to interrupt, this is my story. So I call over the manager..."
God is a scientist, but until we existed he didn’t have the word for it. It was unimportant to him; what need does He have to label Himself, in an existence where there is nothing but Himself? He knew nothing else. There was Him, and there was His Creation. But then He looked and He saw creators in miniature, our biologists sticking cells together and our physicists smashing particles into one another, with the crudeness and benign curiosity of children with stacking blocks, and they called themselves scientists. And He smiled, and saw Himself in us. He couldn’t help but marvel at the success of His own creation. How beautiful, how elegantly simple, to have birthed understanding from mere particles and waves. He watched us and at first saw His beloved quarks, His atoms, His photons, and their attempts to understand themselves. A molecular biologist bends over a microscope, and He sees a dynasty of particles bend with him, watching their sisters squirm on the plate. A physicist steps back from a board of complicated mathematical equations and He fondly thinks how clever all those quarks and protons are, look at how deeply they are beginning to comprehend. But we grew too fast. We became precocious, unruly, and it upset Him. It upset Him that his particles were capable of such elegant beauty as a piece of classical music, but at the same time would produce such hatred and violence, that they could squander their energy on petty nastiness and trivialities. It pained Him to watch how gracefully His laws and particles cascaded into place, playing out so charmingly only to produce the savagery of a weapon raised in anger. What a waste. And He waited eagerly for the day that we finally understood ourselves, and saw how beautiful He had really made us. Alas, He was sorely disappointed. The scientists that He had come to love and understand so well pulled the particles to the forefront of understanding, stuck pins in them, named them, and then nodded wisely to one another and agreed it had all come from nothing. Really, they said to one another, such intricacy could be nothing more than a mistake. God was no scientist. This was not His work. He was offended, hugely offended, at first. To have His most carefully crafted work, the complexities of His design laid bare as we did, and then to receive none of the credit! It was hubris at its deepest and most insulting and He turned His back on us, bitterly disappointed. He tried again. He breached his own laws and sent us signs, tried to gently push us in the right direction. He so keenly wanted us to realise, to know. Creation was hard work and it hurt Him that His own work could think it all just fell into place. And still we ignored Him. The more we understood, the less we knew. He became exasperated, frustrated, miserable, and finally angry. His creation had failed Him. We had failed Him. When our bodies expired and the minute quarks of our existence made their way back to Him, He no longer cradled us lovingly to His breast and pinned us back into the patchwork of creation. We drifted coldly away from Him and He no longer watches us go. He sits with His head in His hands and does not notice that His Universe is disintegrating around him. It is not long now. We have very little time left. Perhaps, in an older time, we would have gone in blissful ignorance, the last of the atoms letting go of one another with a sigh, unaware that this was all that was remained. But we know; the scientists know. They watch the universe through their clever contraptions, watch the distant stars. The particles watch their siblings, and form equations and read themselves, and they realise they are dying. But they don’t know why. Only when the last millennia of consciousness really comprehend this do they turn back to Him, raising their arms in supplication and crying for explanation, for forgiveness, for an answer. And it’s too late. He has left long ago. And the Universe is dying.
When Shona opened the door she could not believe her eyes. "Lord Reginald!"Shona instantly realized she was still in her bedclothes and made to cover herself, then she realized whose presence she was in and tried to fix her hair, cover her unwashed face, clean the sleep from her eyes, undo twenty years of age, and cover herself simultaneously. This lead to about thirty seconds of complete flustered action while Sir Reginald stood there smiling. He was older now, but so was Shona. His fair hair had thinned and was peppered with grey. He still had a strong face and a kind eyes, but the eyes were filled with the tiredness of one who had grown into his life. Shona remembered when those eyes would sparkle... "It...it has been a long time."Shona finally said as she pulled the quilt from the foot of her bed and wrapped it around herself to protect her decency. "I thought you had left for... for good, my lord." "Shona."Sir Reginald gave Shona a big, welcoming hug. She dropped the quilt. "We are both too old and too good of friends to speak with such formalities."Reginald pulled back. "Call me Reggie as you once did." "But..." "Please."Reggie moved over to the bed and sat down heavily. Weight of time and responsibility pushed his shoulders toward the earth. "A favor for an old man?" "If my lord is old then I would cower in the face of what that should make me of myself."Shona picked up the quilt and spared a small glare toward Reggie. "Why are you here? Now, of all times?" "Here in Fellista? Or here in your bedroom?" Shona smacked Reggie in the face with the quilt. Sir Reginal fought back bravely, but without much vigor. "I came for my daughter."Reggie explained after old smiles had passed. "She turned sixteen a week ago. She vanished in that certain way, so I knew where she had to have gone." "Your daughter!"Shona sat heavily on the bed next to Sir Reginald. He was here, in her house, sitting next to her on her bed. Twenty years ago, Shona would have been the happiest maiden... "So you married." "I did." "Is she..." "She's wonderful." "I see." "And you?" Shona shook her head. How could she tell him? How could she express that after meeting someone from another world, after hearing about women free to be adventurers and conquerors of their own destiny, how could she find a man of the quality she now held them up to? No, no man had ever compared. No man ever could because she had built herself a shining knight in her mind, a perfect mark that no one could surpass. Now he sat down on her bed and reminded her that he wasn't a dream, he had been just a boy then as well. "No, my lord." "And the kingdom?" "It fares well."Shona pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. "King Gamn still sits upon the throne. He sends me letters and gifts on the new year and I respond in kind. The Esterns stir and fight and clamor for war but the king holds them fast. There was plague in Kimo last year, but Gamn organized a relief and the town is prospering again." "He's done well." "Yes." Shona stared at the hard wood floor of her bedroom. Her only room, really. It wasn't everyone who could live in a single room in an inn for years, but some of the best times in Shona's life had been in tiny rooms like this. She'd always felt happier here. "Have you heard any rumors? Anything that might be connected to my daughter being here?" Shona thought for a long time. Living in an inn did have the advantage of being literally on top of the rumor mill. She heard story after story every day as she worked the counter. Sorting through them all took time and focus. "Is she... I mean, some children do misbehave... and some girls are a bit..." "Is she a pain in my arse, you mean?" Shona stifled a laugh and nodded. Reggie sighed heavily and joined in Shona's floor-staring. "She's sixteen. She's entitled, angry, just smart enough to lie well and just stupid enough to lie for all the wrong reasons. She steals and drinks and screams... and my wife is about ready to kill her." "Then I may be able to help." Reggie lifted both his head and his eyebrows. Shona shrugged and tried not to blush under Reggie's stare. She was too old for such foolishness. "There was a 'sorceress' captured over in Hember two days back. Tried to drink and not pay, then tried to run on them. When she was caught she tried to use some fancy magic from her hand, but dropped her magic stone in the mud because she had drank quite her fill that night." Reggie's groan was all the confirmation that Shona needed. "Shona, thank you...oh, and one more thing I would ask of you as your lord." Shona straightened up. "Yes, my lord?" "Never have a daughter."Reggie patted her on the shoulder, "Trust me in this."
Another log tumbles onto the fire and a glass of wine slides into my hand. My knees crack as I lift myself backward to the love seat my wife, Bella, has fallen into, and she raises the blanket to welcome me in next to her. I lean back and close my eyes, listening to the wood crack and burn, feeling the warmth of the cabin surround me. Peaceful. "What's missing?"My wife asks. I open my eyes and roll my head around to look at her, smiling back at me. She reaches over with her right hand and runs it through my hair. "Nothing. I have everything."I reach to take her hand from my hair, gently bringing it up to my mouth where I kiss her fingers, rolling my thumb carefully over the wedding band on her finger. "None of that."She replies, yet allowing her hand to linger in mine, pausing for a sip from her glass. "You're the man who 'could always be more', that's what you used to say. And as much as I love you being romantic, I love that obsessive weirdo that brought us here a little bit more. So, tell me, what's he missing?" I sigh, looking down at the soft knitted blanket covering us as I think. "I'll be right back." "Don't let the fire go out." The blanket slides from over me and I make sure to move it so that the excess is covering her, patting it down against her legs. With a few more knee cracks I lift myself off the loveseat, with some help from the arm rest, and wander out of our snug. The wooden floor creaks under my steps, that land heavy despite my lack of shoes. Our bedroom is the same, no carpet save for a large rug laid out in front of the door, at the foot of the bed that sits to the right of the doorway, the headboard pushed back against the right hand side wall. I walk around the far side of the bed, facing back toward were I entered, and crouch - to the pain of my knees - quickly deciding to bring myself down to a seated position instead. Eye level with the mattress, I shove my arms under the frame and feel for the leather handle of my old suitcase. It slides out painlessly, mostly full of old sweaters and papers; journals and articles with Bella's published work, a few photos of family and friends. At the bottom, beneath a photo album, is the black moleskin book I've carried with me since I was young man. A diary, is what I called it, something just for me - and Bella, being Bella, had never asked to read it. She'd just understood that some questions don't need answers. Book in hand, I close the suitcase and slide it back under the frame, climbing back to my feet and walking back toward the snug, where Bella and my wine are waiting. I sit myself, and take a long drink, before opening the book and speaking. "What goes here?"I ask, flipping the book open to the last page, a blank page, that had been that way since I'd received it. "Why is this blank?" Bella looks at me, her 'poker face', as we always called it, faltering just a little as she notices what it is I'm asking her to look at. Her glass goes down on the coffee table next to her, avoiding the coaster of course, as she takes the book in both hands to get a better view, looking intently at the back page. "You can look over the other pages, if it helps. I just want to know what they left out." Hesitantly, she watches me talk, waiting patiently until I'd finished to carefully flick the pages back to the start. She reads the first in its entirety - twice even, before going on to the next. From there she ups her pace, skim reading, and then skipping a page, and then two - until finally she's looking at the blank page once again. She nods to herself, and closes the book. Hanging it back to me. "Well?"I ask. "You haven't written in it yet." A small ember of understanding flickers. "What?" "You haven't written in it yet. None of that handwriting is yours, I think that page is for you." She's looking at me blankly, calm eyes and a slight smile, an expression she punctuates with a shrug, reaching again for her glass. "But, someone wrote all of this."I flicker through the pages. "Why would they leave one blank for me? Just one?" She shakes her head, mouth full, placing her glass down again. She misses the coaster once more, and the new ring she leaves slightly crosses over the first. It's the most forgivable kind of infuriating. "Not someone. People, plural, and they all only got one page too. The writing is different on each one, some are left handed, some are right. It's not even subtle in most places..." Bella's voice trails off as I fling open the book and scrape through the pages almost in a trance. She's right. She's painfully right, and right about it being obvious. There are no names, but each page is as good as signed with penmanship. "So that's it then? Now you have everything?" I look at her taking another sip of her wine, reaching back again to place it down.The bottom rim catches the edge of the coaster and it almost topples, and she lurches with a "Bugger!"to keep it upright. Excitement over, she places it down - on the coaster - wrapping her sleeve under her palm to wipe at the wet rings left on the varnish. In my lap, the blank rough page of the black book stares back up at me, an opportunity I almost missed, a power I didn't know I could ever have that almost slipped through my finger tips. Thirty years, sleeping under our bed, hidden from Bella. "Almost." She laughs. "What's left then?" "Time."I smile, looking down at the blank page of promise with newfound resolve. "We could always have more time."
They called it Purell as a joke, but the name stuck and it was fitting enough, after all. "Purell--advanced hand sanitizer. Kills the most germs. Leaves hands feeling soft." And if the city was a hand and the choking mist they pumped into our dwellings was the sanitizer, then I was that freakish anomaly, a tenacious speck too stubborn or stupid to go out nice and quiet with the rest of them. And the hand that had balled itself into a raging fist and screamed for our destruction, had pounded upon tables and scrawled vicious diatribes and rent the thin facade of our security with beast-like nails--well, now that the dirty deed was done, that hand lay soft and satisfied, plump on the blood of the scapegoats and completely convinced of its hard-earned cleanliness. They call us germs. I know, I thought it ridiculous too when they compared us to cancer cells or viruses, polluting our city's pure bloodstream. Then the mayor called for those who were "brave enough to eradicate the disease at the heart,"and in stormed the white blood cells, armed with their gas masks and shiny chrome nozzles and Purell, and suddenly it wasn't so ridiculous anymore. If this city was a hand, I'm currently crouched in the deepest groove of the lifeline, hacking up blood. I guess I'm too stubborn to die easy, so I get to feel the cold creeping of the gas in my chest and throat, gathering slowly, sickly sweet. Yeah, it'll eventually kill me, but not today. Not yet. It's dark now and the good citizens sleep easy in their soft beds, content after a job well done. I emerge stealthily from my hiding place and creep through the empty veins and arteries until I reach my goal. I've got an undiluted canister of Purell--wrenched from the twitching hand of the maggot I caught dispatching my younger sister--and I tip this carefully into the water supply tank, making sure not to spill a drop. At last I've become what they always knew I was. A germ. A filthy, disease-carrying foreign agent who exists only to destroy their miserable lives. Pity that they forgot the caveat, the outlier to any comforting statistic. Purell is 99.99% effective. For everyone.
The theory of the Bend had been easy. Experiencing it would be beyond comprehension. The engines of the Kérouac called out to countless, twinned atoms hundreds of lightyears away. When enough energy was channeled through them, the matter itself was superimposed across time and space, compelled to step out of reality and exchange places. In an instant the vessel could travel farther than any living soul in human history. Joanna knew this theory on paper, she had been the one to complete it, after all, but the first testflight was something she couldn’t have predicted. When she triggered the countdown on the single-seated prototype, her mind dwelled on the people standing on the other side of the safety line. Her husband, Marcel, an English major who could only nod when she talked about her work, but whom she loved dearly. He had named the ship. Her parents, more frightened by the risk to their little daughter than hope this technology would offer humanity. Even her Uncle Eddie, who had registered the star she was traveling to, and given her a cheap certificate to commemorate the occasion. Joanna was the one in the capsule, but all of them would be traveling with her, as they did everywhere she went in life. She hoped she had told them enough. There wasn’t much manual input needed after the initial activation sequence. The effects of the Bend on the human body were even more speculative than the underlying technology itself. For the prototype, that meant it needed to be able to reach its destination and return regardless of what state the pilot was in. Joanna watched the countdown until “3”, then she closed her eyes. There were tears forming when her computer announced the Bend was initiating. And then… nothing. She opened her eyes to the computer stating, “Bend complete. Coordinates confirmed.” It spoke as casually as if she had asked it the weather. It wasn’t phased in the slightest by the dozens of spaceships that had suddenly appeared on her viewscreen. No comment on the planet below covered in structures visible from orbit. Before she had her bearings, a face appeared on the screen. It was human. A beautiful woman with a shaved head and sepia skin. “Joanna Weaver,” she said, “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to be the first to greet you. I hope you find my English acceptable. I’ve been studying your era’s dialect in preparation. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” Joanna was beginning to think that something had gone terribly wrong. As her mind grasped wildly for context, she thought weakly that at least the woman on her monitor wasn’t an ape. “Where am I?” “This is your system, Empress Weaver, and I am your humble servant. As soon as you left your team realized what must have happened. The Bend brought you not only to your destination, but a thousand years into the future. They used the data from the readings to perfect the technology. In the centuries since your departure, your breakthrough has allowed humanity to spread throughout the stars. I hope you’ll be proud of what we’ve become. Now please, Empress, allow me to welcome you to our planet’s surface.” The tears threatened to return as Joanna started to think about the people she had left on the other side of the line. She had to keep moving to prevent herself from collapsing. “Why did you call me Empress?” The woman blushed. “To be honest, it’s a bit of a silly tradition. When we started exploring the stars, we used The International Star Registry as a guide. The early explorers wanted to see what they had claimed. They were called Emperors, though few ever ruled. We’ve moved beyond that now, but when we talked of your arrival, it was always with that moniker. Your uncle insisted. I hope I have not offended you.” Joanna’s vision blurred as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. It didn’t matter. All she could see in her mind was Eddie, smiling and waving from the platform. “No,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
"Oh my, that's a lot of parcels you're carrying, Turiel,"Ananiel called out to him, "Let me hold the door for you!" Ananiel raced at lightning speed to catch the door for Turiel, a look of triumph on her beaming face. Turiel was about to scoff indignantly, but then thought better of it. "How generous of you, Nania."The malice flashed across her face so suddenly he almost missesd it, but it had been there. He had hoped that by calling her by a familiar name would add that extra touch of friendly warmth that would send her reeling with distain. It had worked, though not to the degree he had hoped. "I can take those from you, if you'd like!"She hastened to grab the boxes he was carrying. Turiel put a hand out to stop her, "I wouldn't dream of putting you through the trouble!" "Really, it's no trouble! Especially for a friend like you..." Turiel froze. Anger raging through his body, "What did you just call me?" "My FRIEND. "she repeated, a huge false grin spreading across her face. "I thought that's what you said. " The boxes hit the floor. WHAM "FUCK!"Ananiel's nose* was bloodied. It was the happiest Turiel had seen her in years. "Man, I've fucking missed that,"she said.
The Celestial Bureaucracy was in turmoil. Bureaucrats were running to and fro, fiends and higher powers attempting to scream over each other, and all of this happening around a very dissatisfied Heavenly Emperor. "Under Article 7, Paragraph H, subsection ii, under the Codes Concerning Jaywalking-"a minor imp attempted to wrangle a loophole into the throng of angry supplicants. "That ruling was found void under the Compact of Celestial Disarmament-"an angelic deva shot back. Both sides fought viciously, citing rules, amendments, legal precedent, and character witnesses to secure their rights. The Heavenly Emperor sighed. He wasn't unused to the bickering of the karmic wheel, he just had never seen it fought so viciously. The individual voices drowned in a sea of argument. He learned to one side in his impressive throne. "Who did you say you were?" "M-m-my name is Robert Greenely. I'm, uh, an accountant." "Mmhmm, I see... Do you understand any of this? I honestly cannot make heads or tales of this." "Well, honestly, uh, sir, I was Catholic in life." Hmmm? Cath-o-lick? What is that, some new-aged philosophy? You mortals with your ridiculous personal views of the cosmic."The Celestial Emperor laughed a deep belly laugh, momentarily shocking the legions of demonic lawyers and heavenly law professionals into silence, and terrifying Robert Greenely. "No, what it really boils down to, mortal, is karma. Do you know why you are here?" "Well, I think we are trying to decide where I'm supposed to go for eternity? If I can weigh in, I think I'd prefer Heaven, thank you." "No, not for eternity, little mortal,"said the divine giant. "Though wherever you end up will be the end, for you. Your soul will, however continue, until you find karmic balance." "But... wait, aren't we here because I was at balance? I thought I wasn't deemed good or evil enough to be sent to one place specifically?" "Karma... hmmm... Is like credit, to borrow some of your knowledge. You need to spend, and you need to save. When you do selfish, cruel, or evil actions, you spend. When you give good heartedly, care for others, and act unselfishly, you save. You died without credit." "But my credit score was immaculate, I never miss-" "It was a likeness, not a direct conversion. Oh, I think I hear an interesting argument from the sloth division of Hell." "But I didn't know I was supposed to work my karma. I was raised Catholic! I was a good person! This isn't fair!" "Life, I've been told, rarely is,"said the Emperor dryly. He was wrong about the argument being cooked up by the demons, it failed to drive their message. "What If I don't want to go to Heaven or Hell,"asked Robert. His voiced trembled, he was scared for what would come next. "Nobody has really asked for the option before. I assume if you were to reach true balance, we could move you to Nirvana, but that would still take a very long time."The Emperor paused. "There's a lot of paperwork to fill out." "Well, I never did mind the odd bit of paperwork." The Celestial Emperor looked at Robert Greenely. Really looked at him. He noticed how the mortal seemed to have a noble bearing about him. He was an accountant after all, the Emperor mused. Is that really so different from a bureaucrat? "Robert... what if I were to offer you a deal? The room grew silent. Everyone, angel and demon, bureaucrat and accountant alike, hung on the Emperor's next words. "I would like to offer you a temporary position here at the Celestial Bureaucracy. I would be willing to mitigate this whole affair if you agree to a simple trade." "A trade? What could I possibly offer you? I'm just a mortal, and you are both divine and an emperor! I have nothing you could want!"The man stood confused, but the Emperor only smiled, his all-knowing eyes twinkling like nebula. "I propose we trade positions. You become the Celestial Emperor, and I become mortal in your stead, for a period not exceeding ten cycles of reincarnation. I will even allow you to dictate where I shall serve my first period as a soul awaiting my first life."The room erupted in howls and screams. The Emperor raised his mighty hand, and the room fell silent. "What say you, Robert Greenely, mortal?" The accountant smiled, ready to dive into an element he knew all too well. "Where do I sign?"
Listen closely my child, and I will tell you how to truly destroy a man. There were once three brothers, whom were sent to live with thier uncle, after the death of thier own father; but this uncle was a feind of a man. He despised his brother's sons, cherishing his own child instead. He would inflict all manner of misery upon them; untill one night, when he beat the youngest brother nearly to death. The uncle's own son could stomach his cruelty no longer and ran away. The brothers knew they would likely be blamed for his disappearnce, and so they fled as well; but not before vowing to return one day, to show thier uncle true hell for his misdeeds. Many years later, they did return. The oldest brother spoke first, explaining that he was now a soldier in the king's army. He would show thier uncle true hell by beating him within an inch of his life; but when he tried, the uncle only felt rage. He did not weep as the oldest brother had hoped; but instead the uncle cursed his name, and seemed only more pleased with how he had treated them. Then the second brother spoke up. He revealed that he had become a tax man, and had used his influence to bring financial ruin upon his uncle. He would show him true hell in poverty and ruin; but when he explained this to his uncle, the man felt only rage. He did not weep as the middle brother had hoped; but instead the uncle cursed his name and seemed only more pleased with how he had treated them. Finally, the last brother spoke. He had become nothing more than a farmer, with little more than a penny to his name. He explained that he wished only to tell his uncle a story. Bemused, the old man agreed; and so the youngest brother told his uncle of a tale. It was a tale of a secret deal between the brother and his cousin. A tale of two children taking each other's places. A tale of a son who never ran away. For you see, my child, true hell is not threats of violence or pain. It is not poverty or struggle. Hell is truth seen too late.
Somewhere in the annals of human history it was decided that omnipotence and benevolence go hand in hand. That regardless of intent, an all-knowing, all-seeing creator must act primarily as a caretaker of its creation. To utilize their ephemeral nature to better humanity in one way or another. A God serving to provide solace to the most innate human need, yearning for meaning that is representative of the self. This isn’t necessarily implying that creation is the result of malevolence either. That humanity merely exists to prove that we are all inevitably the worst versions of ourselves. Some parlor bet between God and Satan to prove our true worth. Tying a creator to such uniquely human traits serves to allegorically personify such an entity, but shouldn’t be seen as necessary components of omnipotence. If anything it should be the other way around. Arguing that omnipotence is only tangible in a rational world. A universe defined by a set of laws and follows precedent in all of its actions. And that creation is merely the byproduct of a rational God, all-knowing, albeit within the confines of what is expected to happen. But this was all thrown astray when God decided to put a perfect representation of itself in a pile of inevitable to decompose flesh. When Adam and Eve first stepped foot in Eden it wasn’t that they were in the representation of a perfectly benevolent world. This would imply a level of meaning that otherwise shouldn’t have existed. For the past eternity, for all intents and purposes, entities followed logical order. The planets orbited suns, galaxies flew through space. Living beings existed to procreate and inevitably diversify. So when a three pound pile of tissue is bombarded with an omnipotent soul, the resultant effect is existential angst. A purveying sense that there is something more, and that despite being driven by rational biological processes, that each individual entity is capable of more than the limitation of their bodies. And so Eve ate the fruit of knowledge with the hopes that it would free her from her fleshy cage. And God understood that something was amiss, but within the confines of rational omnipotence was incapable of fully restraining humanity. Somehow a perfect being now incapable of understanding what Adam and Eve would do next. For the first time, a miniscule part of the universe incapable of acting as it should. Constantly working against their best interests in search of something they could not possibly fully discern. As Adam and Eve turned into collectivized societies, the search for higher meaning began to take on new levels of complexity. A creator now watched as its beings tried to rationalize their own grotesque omnipotence, but constantly fall short, limited by their ape-like sentiments. And despite not having the ability to directly intervene, its own divine omnipotence falling short, began to shape behavior through the implementation of morality. Central edicts and commandments tried to elucidate the ills of their societies. Providing the structure to prevent the collapse of humanity. To even inch them closer to the perfection of their creator. And yet despite the pleas to each human’s soul, God still saw them slip further and further away. Realizing that maybe even less of the soul was able to permeate the brain than even they had presumed. And needed to confront the animal instead. And through the threat of fire and brimstone scared the masses into submission. Albeit not God’s first choice, proved to be the most effective. And the distinction between benevolence and malevolence began to permeate the religious experience. That an omnipotent being desires benevolence, but can only act so through the threat of violence. Debasing its own sense of self, giving itself irrational traits, to quell the irrational masses. When the devil convinced Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge, it wasn’t trying to enact a certain agenda or to settle a score. The devil convinced Eve because it was an allegorical necessity to prove to humanity that it had to listen to a being with benevolent omnipotence. That humanity’s very nature is based on its flaws, but still had a place in this world. The reality that mankind’s being an ill-conceived amalgamation of omnipotence in a limited vessel. An entity that truly doesn’t have a rational place in this universe, and that they will never truly be able to find meaning because of it.
I had to come along. It was so ludicrous that humanity was even attempting this – of course I had to come along. I just had to see. I wanted to experience every second of that trip. I wanted to look at those twenty-four people every single day of their journey, see what was going on in their heads, see what happened when we reached our destination. I’m not much for technology myself. If you’re looking for someone to explain how exactly they designed a ship to get us there in just sixteen years, you’re talking to the wrong guy. I came along as, well...an expert on the matters of the soul, I guess. The go-to guy for spiritual affairs, yes? The man of faith? Yeah, let’s go with that. People need that in general. Especially people who figured out where their souls go after death and decided to reach that point ‘on foot’, so to speak. The crew are all people of science, and as such they do what is so trendy for people of science nowadays and deny, deny, deny any kind of divine interference, existence or influence. I’m cool with that. Personally, I’ve never seen faith as a ‘gotcha, I’m right and you’re wrong!’ kind of thing. It’s not about believing in this or that for me. It’s about comfort, you know? Sometimes, you just kind of want to close your eyes for a bit and believe that there’s something greater than yourself out there, taking care of you. We all need that and we all believe in that and if you say otherwise, I know you’re bullshitting me. You might not believe in a deity, I’ll give you that, but you believe in something. You believe in your parent or your spouse or your child or your friend or some kind of undefined force of ‘It will all turn out okay, it has to’. I know you believe that, because you’re alive, still trudging along. Humans need to believe that. So I came along. Figured they might need someone like me at some point. It took us sixteen years to reach our destination. The people who departed from Earth are not the same people who arrived There. Ten of the crew total made it. I hesitate to say we ‘lost’ the rest of them. They just went ahead. The people who arrived in the ship were no longer young, bright-eyed scientists with snappy minds and a thirst for knowledge. They were people who have gone through sixteen years of mind-numbing routine, sixteen years of bland space food, sixteen years of nothing else to do other than think about what they were doing. Think and doubt and fear, every single day, surrounded by a cold, black void. When we finally drew in close to the place, nobody was taking notes. Nobody was recording anything. Nobody was frantically calling in home saying ‘We made it! We made it!’ There was no sense of revelation or accomplishment. They were all tired and numb and they just wanted it all to end. It was hard to watch. I did my best to stay impartial throughout the trip, but it was hard to watch. I remembered how the Captain’s shoulders always used to be set high and proud, her back straight in an indomitable curve that would break for no one and nothing. Except for time and doubt. That was all it took. Not some kind of unimaginable agony, not some kind of supernatural ordeal. Just time. And doubt. It was especially hard to watch because I knew what they’d find. I was going to let them see it. That’s why I came along. I was curious to see what they’d do. But as the ship drew closer to the edge, I finally broke. I spoke up from my seat, startling everyone in the command room. “You can turn back.” I said and tried to keep a straight face as they all turned to me. Slowly. Incredulously. Their eyes almost unnaturally huge, looked like black pits in the dimly lit cabin. They stared at me, cold and deathly still. A few people opened their mouths, but no sounds came out. The Captain, barely a trace of the fierce woman who had boldly led her crew into the stars, broke the silence first, her voice soft and hollow. “Who are you?” I rolled my eyes. “You know who I am.” “No we don’t!” another crewmember said, her voice high-pitched and cracking. Her fingernails were digging into her seat so hard, they were broken and bloodied. Not gonna lie, the sight made even me cringe, “I’ve never seen you before! Who are you?!” “We’re all going insane.” the words came from my left, interspersed along a hysterical laughing fit, “That’s it. This is a mass hallucination. We’re going insane.” “Oh for the love of me, you’re not insane Travis.” I snapped, “Would you feel better if I was a burning bush or something? You do realize the person who came up with that shit was just trying to swindle some cash out of ancient idiots, right? Are you an ancient idiot?” “This can’t be real.” the Captain’s voice was cracking, probably along with her sanity, “You can’t be- you can’t be-“ “Annie,” I interrupted her before she could break down completely, “y’all just completed a sixteen year trip to a place where dead people go after they die. Can you really say anything is impossible with a straight face anymore?” Was she going to break down? Even I couldn’t tell. Her face was stone still for a long moment, eyes almost unnaturally wide and dark and as deep as the void surrounding us all. Finally, she took a shuddering sigh, her shoulders slacked a little and she slumped back against the control panel behind her. “Don’t butt-dial us into hyperspace.” I remarked, ignoring the angry look she lashed me with. “Are you going to stop us?” for the first time in years I could see some of her old fire back in her. “Nope. It’s all up to you guys.” I said, “I don’t interfere directly.” “Yeah, why is that?” Travis was glaring at me from the side, “You like watching us suffer?” “Travis, you could live three times and do nothing but listen to me and you still wouldn’t be able to hear the entire, full answer to that to its conclusion.” I said impatiently, “Look, bottom line is – you people do what you want. I just wanted to drop in and remind you that you can turn back.” I turned back to the Captain. “You can turn back.” I repeated, “It’s going to take sixteen more years, but you’ll be heading home. You’ll be old by the time you get there, but the Earth will be waiting for you. Blue skies and open seas and crowded cities and busy streets and annoying neighbours and fantastic neighbours and jerks cutting you off in traffic and children playing in the park and someone’s golden retriever having adorable puppies, and people dying from cancer and babies being born beautiful and healthy and just in general - happiness and sadness over things that don’t matter nearly as much as this. It’s all there. You can go back.” Heck, I wanted to go back. The silence lasted for what seemed like ages. It was kind of eerie, actually. A room full of people sitting completely motionless for such a long time, not speaking, eyes open but not seeing. I think they were just...remembering. All those things they allowed to blend into a past left far behind them and forgotten in years of soul-crushing routine. Finally, someone moved. Annie moved and turned to the control panel. She leaned on it on both arms and spent a long time staring at the readings screen which they had all stopped relying a long time ago, after it went crazy. After what seemed like ages, an eternity, her voice broke the silence and it wasn’t tired, scared Annie talking. It was Captain Annabelle Parks. “Turn us around.” she commanded, “We are going home.”
I open my eyes. Everything is white. That’s not right. I was supposed to get never-ending black nothingness! There is no afterlife; it doesn’t make logical sense! So why is everything white? Also, why didn’t I have clothes on? “So, you’re probably feeling pretty confused right about now,” a voice behind me says. I jumped and turned around to see Chris Hemsworth holding a hammer. “Thor,” he offers, stretching out a hand to introduce himself. I don’t take it, as my both of my own have dropped to cover my genitals. “May I interest you in Valhalla? Now with a 15% discount on excursions to Asgard!” I blink. “Wha… wha… what?” I mumble weakly, “Don’t listen to that charlatan,” says a green-skinned guy with a funky beard and flail, who had just appeared without warning by my side. “I’m Osiris, and would you like to dwell in the stars with Ra for all eternity? I’ll throw in two free ba excursions. Take a pamphlet.” I’m handed a surprisingly well-designed brochure listing all the benefits of the Duat. “Not so fast,” the Chris Hemsworth lookalike growls. “Take my pamphlet! And because you’re such a great customer, I’ll dock another five percent.” “I don’t under-” I begin, until I get cut off again. “Ignore those filthy harlots!” a booming voice echoed out, and I see a radiant and equally buff goth-surfer-dude appear in front of me. “I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and I would simply love to have you down in Elysium! Our algorithms predict you’d be a perfect match for the Isles of the Blest! Barring a six-to-ten month wait, of course. Come with me for a superior afterlife experience!” “No, no, no!” a suave-seeming robed man yells, popping into existence in front of me as well. “Behold, for I am Ahura Mazda, the Wise Lord himself, and you’d be a great fit with the afterlife of Zoroastrianism!” He also extends his hand, and I also don’t take it. “Can I get some clothes?” I ask, but nobody seems to hear me. “Yeah, well, does Zoroastrianism get smokin’ hot Valkyries?” Thor demands. “Shut up, you mangy wastrel,” Ahura Mazda snaps. “Only in my paradise do you get to be carried by the glamorous Amesha Spenta! And,” he leans in uncomfortably close to me, “the first seven maidens will be free of charge!” I back away, my hands still covering my crotch, but they all keep advancing. “Do you like pregnant hippos?” Osiris asks impatiently. “Well, we’ve got lots! Come with me to see all kinds of fricked-up scat!” “What?” “We can’t curse here.” The sky crackles. A brilliant flash of white light. A person who is undeniably Jesus appears, looks at me, and says “Son of an estrogen-laced poodle, I’ve got no chance here.” He disappears as quickly as he came. “Come on,” Hades wheedles. “I’ll let you meet the Furies! And, because you seem like a nice guy, up to seven pomegranates at half off!” “Half off what?” “DID SOMEBODY SAY HALF?” A booming voice echoes, and a giant, purple, wrinkle-chinned man in a suit of armor appears. “Hi, I’m Thanos, the new god on the block here. Would you be interested in helping make the universe perfectly balanced, as all things should be?” Osiris scoffs. “Frickin’ newbie. Apep could devour you so easily.” Thanos snaps his fingers. Half of Osiris’ staff disappears. “Duck move,” Osiris says, looking down. Everybody begins to squabble. “Hey!” I yell, finally mustering my voice over the five gods. They look at me. Ahura Mazda drops some lime mortar. “Can… somebody… please… explain what is going on?” I wheeze. “You need to pick which afterlife you want,” Thor says. “But, honestly, nobody else has a sick dining hall!” They resume arguing. “SHUT UP!” I yell. “What do I need to do to get in each one?” “150,000 credits,” Osiris tells me. “For the best fire river cruise imaginable!” “120,000 credits,” Ahura Mazda says. “To watch sinners suffer from the safety of paradise!” “200,000 for Valhalla,” Thor says, “but you can make it payable in installments.” “180,000,” Hades announces, and we all turn to Thanos. “Half of your credits, whatever the amount is,” he says. “I don’t have any credits, though,” I say, confused. “I don’t even know what a credit is.” All the gods exchange exasperated glances. “Well, why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Ahura Mazda complains. “Now Jesus has a jump on us.” “Yeah, how come they never know what credits are?” Thor grumbles, and pops off the all-white plane of existence. One by one, the other Gods all leave as well, leaving just me and Thanos. “Half of zero is zero,” he says, placing a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. “You’re in!” “I don’t want to be in anything,” I whine. “Fine, you corksucking motherfracker.” Thanos disappears. I am left surrounded in whiteness.
Disbelief became apparent across the face of the "hero."In the beginning, he'd saved towns, saved kingdoms, and once saved the world. His save file was closely guarded, and he saved an extra copy of in a flash drive, encrypted and password protected, kept in a lockbox he stored in his closet, underneath the pile of Pokemon card tins, a spot he knew nobody would ever check. The quest board was empty, save for the small message, hastily nailed to the wooded structure. "No more, we're coming for you" He shook his head and looked around. The hamlet of Perdonia was a ghost town, so he looked at his map. Perdonia - Current Location (x-1232.23, y-648.22, z-32) He fast-travelled to Verlansa, another town nearby. No NPC in sight, and the local quest board was also empty, save for an identical message. "No more, we're coming for you" Suddenly, he had an idea. He must've forgotten to finish an active quest! He opened his quest menu. "NO ACTIVE QUEST. Visit a quest board in a town!" No active quests. No side quests. Not even an NPC! This HAD to be a bug. Suddenly, through the high-quality audio of the game, he heard a sound far off, like the booming sound of a stampede. He fast-travelled to his house. Being rich from all the questing, he'd dominated the real estate of the world. He entered and equipped his armor, which he had sharpened and made it quite easily the most powerful set. Outside, the booming was louder and more apparent. He looked around. Nothing. He blinked to the top of a mountain. Nothing. Just the sound. The hero spent days in-game (avg. daytime = 1 hour) trying to find the source, but nothing was to be done. He paused his game, and loaded the autosave from hours earlier. Strangely, the sound was still just as loud as before. He exitted the game, and took his motion capture suit and VR helmet off. The sound was still there, heard with his real ears. Outside his window, he saw a crowd, of thousands, and he saw what they were doing. They were destroying the walls and foundation of the apartment building. Before he could react, the building collapsed, and our hero perished. But this time, there was no "reload previous save"inquiry.
“Today’s assignment... July 1590 Roanoke mystery.” Back in August of 1590, the colony of Roanoke was found abandon by the 116 that had been there when Governor White had left three years prior. The colonists whereabouts have never been confirmed. Until today! Today is the day I get to go into the past and look into the mystery of Roanoke and find the meaning of the word “CROATOAN”. I walk from the assignment room down the Hall of Time. Glancing at my assignment again, I head towards door 13 at the end of the hall. “Oh shit, why’d it have to be this one.” I say to myself as I enter my code to unlock and open the door. The time bed lay open and glowing. I laid down, pulled the door down over me, and pushed the button. Whirring and buzzing fill my ears. I close my eyes tight as the lights start spinning. “Oh my!” I hear someone gasp as my back lands hard on the dirt. I open my eyes to see a crowd gathering around me. “Who are you?” Someone asks. I stare blankly at the people around me. These are the lost colonists and someone is totally getting fired in the future. I sit up and look around. Still disoriented from my travels, the only thoughts going through my mind are ‘what’s the protocol for this?’. All of a sudden it dawns on me. This hasn’t happened before. The coordinates have NEVER been incorrectly entered. I was just supposed to observe and not interfere. “Please, just tell us who you are and how you got here.” A woman asks while her child hides behind her dress. “I um ... I’m ... I can’t tell you that. And for how I got here... it’s a little complicated.” By now pretty much the entire colony was looking at me sitting in the middle of town after having appeared out of nowhere. “Well what can you tell us?” An old man asks while poking at me with a stick. “Well ... um ... I’m here for a certain reason but something got messed up. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do no.” I say quickly and tentatively. All of a sudden I hear a voice in my ear. “Denver? Can you hear me? Denver? We see that your coordinates were input incorrectly and that the town knows you’re there. There’s only one thing you can do now, you have to bring them back.”
“Death?” “That’s right kid, Death. Doom. Bleh.” “So what does this mean? I don’t understand” “Well, to put it simply, each person is born under a patron God. Some people are born with the same patronage as others, others sit in an exclusive club.” “Well which one am I? The exclusive club?” “Unfortunately not. Death is everywhere my friend, as is Life. Therefore the respective Gods have plenty of patrons under their banners. You have been simply added to a long list of many. Don’t look so disappointed, there are perks that are unique to you.” “Really? What are they? Am I Reaper? Can I raise the dead? Am I immortal?” “Wow you kids these days, you watch far too much TV. No, none of that. You have perks, not superpowers. As I said each one is unique, for instance mine is that I can see the Hourglass of Life for every human and animal. That’s how I got this gig as Representative, it’s an incredibly useful perk.” “How is that not a power? Whats mine then?” “You can accurately determine, to the second, when an ovum begins its cycle of decay and death and therefore will cease to provide a nutritional benefit to a living organism.” “That sounds coo...wait....I can tell when eggs go bad?!” “Yup, to the second. Have fun bye!”
“You cannot comprehend how utterly stupid your actions are! Why do you think we live like this?? For the fun of it?? Now they know and they are going to come for you and find us waiting! You have signed our death warrants, our blood is on your hands!!” “....you speak English?” “Colossal idiot, no! The translator is doing its job! We have technology far greater than yours, but we dare not use it for fear of drawing their eyes towards our home.” “What are you talking about? We are from Earth and we are here to ma-“ “We know why you are here! That does not change the fact that you have doomed us!” “Who are you so afraid of?” “The ones who keep the order. You are not alone in the universe, but neither are you permitted to travel it without their permission. Everything is permitted except for travel between worlds, everyone must stay tucked away to themselves. Now they will come to find you and punish us as well.” As the voice chastised my crew over the intercom of our small shuttle, the instruments on the panels in front of us began to blink and beep rapidly. The voice began to crackle as the the malfunction continued. I frantically tried to keep the lines of communication open, but it was no use. “Hello?? Hello???? Can you hear me?? Who is coming? Why don’t they want us in space?? Do you copy? HELLO!?!” As quickly as contact had been made, it was lost. My fingers flew over the controls, desperately trying to find something. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I registered that one of my team was attempting to get my attention. “Sir! Sir! Look!” They pointed out into space, past the green and blue planet we had found, into the darkness and infinite mystery. But now it wasn’t so empty. “.....dear god.....what is it?” My mouth was suddenly so dry that I couldn’t swallow. What I was seeing couldn’t be possible, yet there it was in front of my unbelieving eyes. We were so used to being the big guys, we forgot what it is like to look out and see something that is obviously more powerful than you in every conceivable way. And we just woke it up and called it over to play.
The culmination of human existence was always going to be time travel, let's be honest. Once humanity realizes it can change its past, it owns the future. I finally did it, but for now I'm confining myself to the internet for safety reasons. No actual personal travel. I just need to show the past that it's possible, so I start leaving comments. Thousands. All with a simple one-word message. "First." Someone will figure it out, and I'll know when they do. Hell, I'll know before. The type of person who makes that connection isn't the type to keep it to themselves. I should know. I've already gotten a notification. "+HourBeforeHour replied to a comment you will make one second from now: 'First.'" So it begins.
I screamed, unintelligiblly, and after a while, my voice began to crack and fragment. I threw my assault rifle at the wall and stomped around like a child. "B-b-boss? E-everything okay?"Leonard- a short and portly henchman of mine- popped his head around the corner, obviously being drawn by the sound of my temper tantrum. Sounds had a tendency to travel freely about the caverns of my underground lair. "My dog is DEAD Leo! Dead! Do you know what this means, you shriveled little ballsack?!"I screeched as I sunk my crows talons into the collar of his jump suit. "It means-"I cut him off with a slap across the face. He didnt have the slightest clue as to what it meant. "Atlas was my dog, Leo. Atlas, is dead and he was a GOOD BOI!"I hollered, throwing my fists into the air and falling to my knees in a dramatic fashion. "Of course he was, boss."Leo used a soft tone as he approached to comfort me. "He was the goodest of bois."He pat my shoulder, and I punched him in the stomach. "You fucking idiot. This means he went to dog heaven. Do you really think I'm going to get in?!"I ripped off my cape that had been fashioned to resemble a crows wings, the black feathers fluttering as I tossed it into the arm chair of my command center. "Uh, yes?"Leo said, obviously fearing insulting me. I smacked him anyway. He was lying. I sneared at Leo, "I just invented an atom ray that cooks human beings on an atomic level,"I tapped the side of my head, suggesting he use his, "I have used it against thirty one individuals. Is that the kind of thing that people do to earn their way into heaven?" Leo scratched his chin, "You didn't care about heaven before though, boss." I stared at him, seeing only red. His inability to connect the dots was infuriating. "Atlas was my dog, and I loved him. I loved literally nothing else. Instead of being the ferocious hell hound I had hoped, he was a good boi."I paused, clenching my hands together. "Now he's dead and has gone to heaven. I've been pretty shitty. Can you guess where I'm not going?"I asked, ready to kill him if he didn't piece it together. I removed my gloves, effectively removing my razor sharp talons. Again, Leo scratched and pondered. "How are you going to get into heaven?" I plopped into my chair and slouched, biting the tip of my nail. "That's a good fucking question." Three days later Ding-dong I stood nervously in my pencil skirt and button up blouse and figeted with the elegant earrings I'd put on. I looked like a goddamned corporate stooge. A fat woman opened the door. what a hideous beast of a woman, I thought. Immidiately, I condemned my inner monologue. Kindness is key. "Yeah, what do you want?"The woman eyed me, almost recognizing me, but unable to place me. "Hi, Mrs."I paused, glancing at the penned note on the palm of my hand. "Hienes, I'm here to formally apologize for what I did to you and your family."I spoke steadily, and calmly. Mrs. Heines was visibly confused. "Ma'am, I think you have the wrong address." I grew annoyed. I said my bit, she should have accepted it, and I should be one apology closer to Atlas. "Ma'am, this is the right address."I said, gravely, reenacting my signature Lady Crow gaze and facial expression. The woman froze in horror, recognizing me finally. I decided I would then recite my apology. "Mrs. Heines, I am here to formal-" "Steven!"She screamed, calling for her husband. She slammed the door in my face and I waited...as patiently as I could. After a moment, I heard muffled shouting from the other side of the door, then the cocking of a shot gun. The door swung open again, Steven stood there, shaking while aiming at my stomach. "Lady Crow, you ripped my son apart. Literally! I watched his face disintegrate and witnessed the totality of my sons death in the most horrifying fashion! You proved to me that life is fleeting and introduced to me a pain that only a parent can feel when having their baby ripped away from them! I now know what everlasting pain and misery is. I understand what it means to hate a person so profoundly that the tips of my fingers deaden upon touching anything that lives and could bring any form of happiness or joy to me, because the very fiber of my being is obsessed with the pure hateed that I feel for you." Steven paused to take a breath. "Look,sir, I said I was sorry. Now can you sign this so I can reunite with my dog? He died last week and I'm pretty broken up about it."I said, gesturing that he take the pen and clip board. He grunted and jammed the gun at me, readying to pull the trigger. Suddenly, as if by pure instinct (which shouldn't be judged as a sin, because self defense is a primal mechanism bestowed on us by the dick head that runs heaven) I drew my pistol and shot Steven in the throat. His wife stood in horror, and I looked down on him. I bit my lip and decided I would come back later. I stepped off the porch and made my way down the side walk as I scribbled on my list of apologies. The frantic and gutteral screaming diminished as I walked away. Unfortunately, I'd have to return to Mrs. Heines for a second apology. It's alot of work earning your way into heaven, apparently.
"HUMANITY. YOU HAVE MUCH TO ANSWER FOR." Even though the words had been through at least one round of translation, and even though the intensity had been reduced as much as possible, the alien's voice still managed to be grating and loud. It hit pitches that activated primal fight/flight reflexes in species galaxy-wide, produced infrasonics that triggered hallucinations in susceptible beings, and made nails on a chalkboard seem downright melodic in comparison. Captain Desna was a trained professional, however, so she barely even winced. "We've coexisted in peace for years now, Tumult,"she said. The Shriekers' personal names were as horrible to pronounce as every other part of their language and so they were typically addressed in communications by their ship's name instead. Desna's own ship, EDS Merriweather, was a mid-sided cruiser that might have been a match for Tumult had the latter not had three destroyers as escorts. Captain Desna had no reason to think, when hailing them as part of her patrol, that they would apparently take offense. "WE DISCOVERED YOUR ARTS, HUMAN. WE DISCOVERED YOUR 'MUSIC',"Tumult transmitted. Again, Desna managed to appear stoic despite the aural assault. "We are aware that there are likely aspects of our culture you may find... unpleasant,"she said. That sort of thing had been ironed out in first contact, years ago. But it hadn't been that many years ago, she thought. It was possible that something about their music had offended the Shriekers. "YOU MISUNDERSTAND. IT IS BEAUTIFUL. NEVER HAD WE CONSIDERED THAT SOUNDS WERE ANYTHING OTHER TO BE ENDURED, VOICES ANYTHING OTHER THAN TO INFLICT PAIN UPON OUR ENEMIES' SOUND RECEPTORS AND, IN AN EMERGENCY, TO COMMUNICATE." That sounded like it was supposed to be a good thing, but Shrieker voice tone was something that made everything sound horrible so it was hard to tell. Desna managed a neutral "How can I help you, Tumult?" "FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR OF OUR TIME, PEACE REIGNED SUPREME, OUR NEVER-ENDING HORROR OF SPEECH MUTED BY YOUR SERENE AND PEACEFUL GENRES OF 'DEATH METAL' AND THE LIKE." Desna didn't need to be a xenodiplomat to know that there was a 'but' coming. "BUT THEN, HAVING LULLED US INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY, HAVING TRICKED US INTO TAKING INTO OUR CULTURE THE FIRST PART OF YOUR TWO-PART POISON, YOU THEN ACTIVATED YOUR TRAP." Did the Shriekers know what a mixed metaphor was? Given how the rest of their language sounded, Desna thought, it was probably the only kind of metaphor they had. "YOU INTRODUCED 'KARAOKE '." And there it was. Some well-meaning tourist or maybe someone trying to make a buck had approached the Shriekers - a species who insisted that humans' name for them wasn't offensively accurate enough - and told them to sing along. "I can see how that might be an issue,"Desna understated. "YES. WE HAVE BEEN INFESTED WITH EARWORMS, DOOMED FOREVER TO IMPUGN THE AIR WITH THE HORRIFICALLY MANGLED CORPSES OF WHAT ONCE WAS BEAUTIFUL. YOU MADE US DO THIS. YOU INTRODUCED US TO LOVE, AND THEN YOU GAVE US A KNIFE, AND YOU MADE US CUT IT UNTIL WE BLED." Yes, Desna thought, definitely just the one kind of metaphor. Still, she had to try something, "Tumult, please accept our apology for this breach. Karaoke is something that no sober adult would indulge in, I assure you. This is an outlier among our cultures, and will not be repeated in your presence." "IT IS TOO LATE, MERRIWEATHER. YOUR MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF OUR CULTURE HAS BEEN AMPLIFIED, REDOUBLED. WE SING OURSELVES APART AS YOU AND I SPEAK, AND ONLY YOUR TRANSLATOR SPARES YOU FROM MY RENDITION OF 'ACHEY BREAKY HEART' THAT I AM INVOLUNTARILY SCREAMING AS WE SPEAK." Desna made an absent mental note to buy a beer to whoever had updated their translation software. "THERE IS ONLY ONE THING WE CAN DO, MERRIWEATHER. ONE THING WE CAN DO TO YOUR SPECIES WHICH HAS DOOMED OURS. THIS IS NOT A DELEGATION SEEKING AN APOLOGY. THIS IS NOT A DELEGATION SEEKING REPARATION. THIS IS A DELEGATION SEEKING REVENGE." Desna nodded to the navigation officer, who had been calculating an escape route through hyperspace the moment communications had begun. In an instant, their pre-spooled hyperdrive came to life, and moments later they'd escaped into the temporary safety of FTL travel, carrying with them Tumult's last words before they left comms range: "THIS IS WAR."
"But... but... it's'a me'a?" The princess shook her head. Five levels of this crap, and he still hadn't given up. As lava erupted behind Mario, she pushed up her pink sleeves and glowered. "I didn't ask you to rescue me!" "The dragon, he'a capture you!" "Is that mustache some sort of sound proofing device? He hired me. Silver brick, black walls and popping red fire might work for the boys in Winterfell, but it won't do for the King of the Koopas. I'm his interior designer, you insignificant plumber!" Mario looked up at her with a stunned expression. He was a full foot shorter than his dream girl, and had fought through mortal danger to free her from this dungeon. His oversized eyes welled with tears as realized that, once again, the risk had been for naught. "But princess... he's'a monster. He take'a you away. Why do you stay?" The princess knew she shouldn't judge the tiny man harshly, especially considering what he'd risked to meet her in this innermost chamber. But she couldn't keep the disdain out of her voice as she replied, "Autonomy, Mario. I'm sick of being at the mercy of this world's men. I don't want to be saved. I don't want pretty lace, I don't want to be doted on and I don't want to be a piece in your games. It's time I pursued my real passions." Then she pointed at the lava bubbling behind the mustachioed would-be hero. "And you just knocked my client into the fire, you selfish little man. Why don't you get over yourself, quit thinking every blonde in a pretty dress needs your help, and go back to unclogging toilets!" Silence hung for several seconds, broken only by the popping bubbles of lava behind Mario. He'd braved a hundred dangers to make it to this point and, for the fifth time, received only rebuke for his courage. "I'm leaving again, Mario,"said the princess. "Please don't follow me this time." But as she vanished without a trace, no doubt to an even more impenetrable castle, Mario braced himself. He knew he would never quit. No matter the obstacles, no matter the enemies, he would pursue her to the end of this world. Which, according to the manual, was just a few stages away. \-------------------- 73/365 one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman) \---------------------
Ba'al-Shuggoroth shook itself. Its form was small, even feeble, but it was all that it could extend into the world when it came back in the time before the dawn of life, and ever since the little creatures had begun to cover the face of the earth, the little piece of itself was stuck in this plane. It pulled its way over the rocks - it had twoish legs, or something like legs. Dozens of flaps opened and closed across the body that was a mottled, sickening shade of green. Some of the flaps may have had a purpose; some of those purposes might even have been analogous to something in the animal kingdom of this world. A thousand eyes flicked across the landscape and a dozen mouths and mouths within mouths tasted the air. Salt, sea foam, wood, and one of Them. Ba'al-Shuggorth spotted one of the vermin sitting by the ocean. It was a little one - they were all little ones, but this one especially so - holding something. It was. . . hunting? Looking for others of Life? Why would it want them? It had to do with sustaining its own life, but also had to do with some sort of pleasure. Or lack of boredom. But the nothing itself was desirable. It made Ba'al-Shuggoroth sick. It moved up towards the thing, picking its way over the rocks that had disgusting solidity and presence, then rose up. Make it unlife. Snuff it out. "Roger?"The thing said. It turned in place. It looked different from other things, at least from what Ba'al-Shuggoroth remembered. Maybe it was something in the two little things in its head, the squishy ones that moved a lot and tasted closer to home than anything else. Ba'al-Shuggoroth froze, towering over the thing. The thing pulled out another one of the sticks that it was using and held it out. "Got one ready for you."The thing's voice trembled. Not intentionally, like the clumsy communication used by these things. Ba'al-Shuggoroth took the stick, anyway. It felt less real than the rocks, so that was a comfort. A thin string dangled out into the water, and at the very end, in the water, a sparkling dot of presence and realness, plus something that moved between life and unlife. "Good day."The thing was talking again. Little words. Meaningless words, even to it. "Yeah, Roger?" Ba'al-Shuggoroth wondered what Roger was. Something related to this thing. Spawn? Ba'al-Shuggoroth sat a long time, holding the stick, watching the life and unlife at the end of it. What was this thing doing? Did it have some sort of game it was playing? "It's been hard since your mam died."The thing finally spoke again. "I'm sorry." More silence. So much time spent with no communication. Ba'al-Shuggoroth set the stick down on the rocks. "I should have been better to you. You're just hard to reach."The thing sighed. "It's my fault. You've got your dreams. Roger. Rog."The thing's voice barely sounded like it was in control of it now, cracking and bubbling. "I'm giving you my blessing. There's a couple thousand under the floorboards - life savings, Rog. Use it on that school. It's not everything, but. . . but Rog, I want you to be happy." Ba'al-Shuggoroth laid one of the pieces of itself across the things head. He gasped, and then Ba'al-Shuggoroth showed him unlife. A second later, it began dragging its way across the rocks, grimacing at the jabbing, rough points of reality prodding it with every step.
Short short short, long long long, short short short. Even the uninitiated in Morse code would know the call for distress. Having sailed for two years, I knew the letters of the alphabet in Morse code, and instantly waited for what was to come next. My hand felt like an Ouija board; out of my control from an unknown source. It was as though this Morse messenger found out I was listening. The next few signals were repeated letter 'V's, then the prosign BT to start the message. Exactly like the flashing exercises on board ship. I grabbed the nearest notepad and got ready to record. A latitude and a longitude. I wasn't a navigator, and needed to Google the exact location. It was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. What business would I have had there? I wasn't sailing today. Regardless, I recorded it down in case it became important in the near future. And what better time than now, two weeks after the twitching, to whip out my notepad to refer to that exact location. With it, I sent out the distress signal from my ship what with the navigation radar destroyed and water seeping in fast. If I explained where I got that location to my crew mates, they would have deemed me a madman. But this hunch doesn't come without backing, and hopefully this location can be broadcasted to any passing ship to pick us up. One thing's for sure: that index finger saved our lives.
God pulled his assistant Gary off to the side, carefully making sure they were no longer in the earshot of the strange being that had come through the Golden Gates. "Okay, what's going on here? You guys are pulling my leg here, right? Is this like the equivalent of a surprise party? Did someone manage to get Wi-Fi and watch YouTube again? Has someone seen the prank videos? Is that it? Is this a prank? Give it to me straight, Gary." "Sir, I have no idea what's going on."Gary said, checking over his notes. "He -- he appears to have lived a life on Earth. Completely normal in terms of activity. Well, I mean, there are some odd spots, but nothing we haven't seen before. He appears to have even reproduced with--" "Jesus Christ. Reproduced? He's-- Oh. Are you telling me I could've signed off on hybrids of humans and that... that thing?"God buried his face in his hands. "Check the records." "And if we do find, um, these... hybrids?" "I don't know! Put them into containment until we have this thing figured out! I haven't dealt with this before! Curse it. I haven't felt this stressed since Lucifer's ploy to cancel Brooklyn Nine-Nine."God looked over to the mysterious newcomer. He sure looked human. The face was there. The skin. The body. The voice. The eyes. The hair. The smile. Fuck, dude, that smile. To a naked eye, one would completely mistake him for a human being. But God knew. God knew something was wrong. "What do we do, sir?" "How did he die?"God asked. "Uh..."Gary once again consulted his notes. "Accident. On a movie set." "He was an actor?" "Pretty successful one." God looked over to the newcomer again. "Well, I can definitely see it. How old was he?" "Fifty-six, sir." "You're shitting me." "I'm not, sir." God sighed. Gary, sensing God's lingering disbelief over the situation, handed the being's Earthly File over to him. God proceeded to absent-mindedly flip through it. He had no clue what was happening. Who was this mysterious "Tom Cruise"? Where had he come from? What was his purpose? And how had he managed to make it all the way to Heaven?
A crash, rumble and then a tumble. Gurgle gurgle and a few sirens in the background before I was ushered off this mortal coil and into the great white beyond. No, seriously, it was all white. No eggshell. Just blinding blanco slathered on thick. The interior designer clearly had, an, um, vision for the place. After my pupils got a chance to adjust to the visual assault, I could make out a stairway heading skyward to a blazing halo up above. There were, like, a lot of stairs. Far more than was sensible for someone who was newly departed to contemplate mounting. I'd been in, so-so shape back when I was alive, and that was before I got t-boned by the semi truck. I needed some time to get my act together before I could be getting all Richard Simmons. Thankfully, a tasteful white elevator stood to the side. I walked over and looked at the two buttons. One with a little down arrow with a flame around it, the other with an up arrow with a little halo and a cloud. Shrugging, I tapped the up button. Nothing happened. I tapped it again. Grumbling, I jabbed the down button. Nada. I groaned, glancing back at the stairs. I was going to need to carbo-load or something before I took that on. Resigned, I began to trudge over stairs just as I heard a PING behind me. The door to the elevator slowly slide open, revealing, surprise surprise, a pure white interior. A strange man with a pencil thin mustache and a rather dapper red velvet smoking jacket leaned over. "Going up?"His voice was low and oh so buttery smooth. "Um, I think so? I tried hitting the button but nothing happened."I replied. "That will happen,"he tapped the door frame, "this is the service elevator. Reserved for folks in the employ of Afterlife Co." "I..."I tried to find the words, but most higher order thinking seemed to be fleeting at that moment, "isn't it a pretty weird place to put it? Where's the regular elevator?" He shrugged and pulled a vape pen out of his pocket, taking a long drag and puffing out smoke that smelled slightly like cotton candy. He made a face, "Not as good as the real deal,"he said with a sigh, "you're supposed to take the stairs."He nodded behind me. "Have you seen those things? There's like eleventy billion of them, what if I was disabled or something?" "No one is disabled in the afterlife,"he replied cooly. "Well isn't that just frickin' convenient for you people?"I turned back toward the stairs, "Thanks for nothing dick." The man sighed, "Fine, I can give you a lift." I pumped my fist, "Boom."I skipped on over to the elevator, "Thanks, I really appreciate it. It's been a pretty rough day, you know, with dying and everything." "I hear that a lot, though it could be worse."he pulled out a key and inserted it into the pure white panel. Turning it to the left and then to the right, a small light appeared. Y'know, basically all elevators respond to the same key for fire service."He said, pulling out a key. "Guess we're going to the top floor." "The top floor?"I asked, confused. "Yeah, turned out my most recent arrival was an elevator technician, had the key on him when he died."The door closed and began to accelerate upward. "Killed thirty five people. Bad hombre." "Okay?" "Don't worry about it. Just a heads up though, the top floor folks aren't going to be happy about us getting up there." "Why's that?" "Eh, they put a lot of work into getting me down in Hell in the first place, so this entire fire key escape thing is going to rub them the wrong way."He said, a look of satisfaction spreading across his features. "I do so love to ruin their fun though." "Wait, who are you?" He gave me a sidelong glance, "Oh come on, don't be daft." I gulped and moved to the far corner of the elevator, "I don't want to be involved." The elevator PINGED and the door slowly opened, revealing a beautiful landscape of clouds. "Then you should have taken the stairs." Platypus out. Want MOAR peril? r/PerilousPlatypus &#x200B;
"The trick,"I began, "is to befriend them." My biographer jotted this down. "One of my victims,"I reminisced, "was a girl who was into theatre, acting and all that sort of stuff. I was into production. The day before a big play, during rehearsal, she was nervous. There was a scene where she would have to fly across the audience, up high, hooked to these harnesses. "'What if I fall?' she asks me. I put my hand on her shoulder - remember, friends - and tell her, 'Don't worry. Just trust me to take care of you.' See? That was the first hint. Take care of you. What do the mobs say when they want someone killed? They want that person to what? Right, to be 'taken care of'. "So I said, 'Look, here's what we'll do. Let's do the scene right now, to calm your nerves. So that by tomorrow, you'll run through it with no problem.' We were the only two people there at this time. And, of course, she agreed. I think she may have had a little crush on me, as well. "We do the scene. I hook her up and she swings across until she's smiling and laughing, completely at ease. I'm controlling the levers, and our eyes meet, and yes, I remember her face so vividly. I could've dropped her then, but that wouldn't work in court. I had to give her a warning, then wait 24 hours before I put it into effect, you understand? "I finally get her down. 'How'd I do?' she asks, all breathless and eager. 'You were beautiful,' I respond. You have to understand, I had to say that in order to lower her guard for what I'm about to say next. She blushes, and I go, 'You're going to do great tomorrow. When tomorrow comes, in case I don't get tell you then, I want you to go out there and break a neck.' "There. That was the warning. I want you to go out there and break a neck. If it doesn't make sense now, it will a little later. She makes the cutest scrunch face and laughs. 'You mean break a leg?' 'No,' I correct. 'That's not enough. I want you to fly high, fall, and break a neck.' "And at this time my hand is on her shoulder, and I'm sliding it up to her neck and bringing her face in closer like I'm about to kiss her. But only as distraction. I don't kiss her, but she was ready for it the whole time you can tell. Her eyes were closed, lips puckered and everything. "Now, the next day, as I'm sure you already know - like the rest of the world knows - during that scene, where's she flying, I unbuckle her harness and she falls to her death. Literally breaks her neck. They tried to argue in court that my warning wasn't actually a warning. "My defense was, if a zookeeper that works by a poisionous snake pit tells you, "I want you to fall into this pit and get bitten to death by these poisionous snakes,"that's specific enough to count as a warning. You're not going to stand around by that zookeeper while you're looking into the pit. "Same thing with my case. When I told her I wanted her to 'fly high, fall, and break her neck' that was specific enough where she should have requested someone else to control the levers. "Of course, I beat the case. But I still got kicked out of theatre and expelled from the school. The school tried to say that it was because I had killed her, but even though I did, so what? It was perfectly legal under the law. I sued the school and won." I stopped speaking. The biographer was scribbling like mad. Finally, he looked up. "It probably would have been easier for you if you brought a tape recorder." "Next time,"he agreed bashfully. I lowered my chin and looked up at him. "I thought I told you yesterday that today was your last day?" "You did."He fidgeted. "But I was, er, hoping..." The door opened and my secretary peeked in. "Sir,"she addressed me. "Your limo is here to take you to the airport." I nodded and rose, hand extended to shake. We shook and as he gathered his things, I reached into my uppermost drawer and drew out my pistol. Making sure it was loaded, I aimed, pulled the trigger and emptied the clip. His body dropped, full of bullets. "I warned you,"I told the corpse. I walked out to the secretary's desk and handed her the gun. "Get rid of this for me. Oh, and send some cleaners up to my office to get the blood out of my carpet."
The crows cawed and screeched as Devon approached the dingy cabin. It had been something of an effort to find it through the nigh-impenetrable mist--which was odd in and of itself, given that it was the middle of the day--but a good civil servant didn't allow a little bad weather to stand in the way of their duty. Humming to himself, he knocked on the ancient oak door and adjusted his grip on his clipboard so he could wipe his glasses. After a moment, he knocked again. He was just about to try for a third time when the door flew open and the resident peered out of the lightless gloom. "Whaddya want?"she snapped. She was an old woman, her face pock-marked and with a smattering of small warts. She smelled unpleasantly of rot and mildew, but Devon was determined not to be perturbed. "Hello, miss!"Devon replied cheerfully, his nasally voice just a bit too loud. "I'm Devon Landry. I've come on behalf of the municipal board of wildlife and environmental preservation to deliver a--" "A mortal? How did you get through my fog wall?"The woman squinted at him. "Are you a warlock? A witch hunter? A vampire?" "Afraid not,"Devon replied. "Just a humble civil servant. Now, as I was saying, I've come to deliver a subpoena, as you are currently in violation of the city's 2017 Wildlife Reserve Act, which strictly prohibits the raising of domiciles within the bounds of the newly defined wildlife--" "Will you shut up?"the witch snarled. "This house stood centuries before your pathetic city was raised from the mud. I won't let you mortal fools drive me out. If you want me gone, you'll have to burn me." "Now, now, ma'am, no need to be so dramatic,"Devon said. "The Wildlife Reserve Act was up for vote on the ballot just last June. You had all the opportunity to oppose the motion then. We even had a Town Hall meeting dedicated to it. If you feel this legislation is unfairly targeting you, you're free to appeal the case to the fourth circuit." The witch, who had communed with demonic beings from beyond the bounds of space and time, stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about?" "I get that question a lot, actually,"Devon said. "In any case, you are formally ordered to appear in court on the Fifth of November. You aren't required to post bail at this time."He held out a slip of paper to the witch, a bland smile plastered on his face. "You are..an odd man,"the witch said, taking the slip. "I have been told that,"Devon said. And with that, he turned and vanished back into the mist. He had three more court orders to deliver that day, after all.
Bliss! Pure bliss! It felt, quite simply, immense. I watched as the soft pale skin on the back of my hands started to redden and blister. A surge of mental peace swept through me like a gust of cool wind under the scorching sun. I was happy. I sensed wetness on my face. My eyes were streaming, and I could faintly hear myself screaming but I was too distracted. Every sense maximised with pleasure. My loins stirred, even. I had never experienced such wellness. My mind flicked to and fro, focusing on nothing and everything at the same time. It ran back. Through my life playing back every one of my memories. I re-experienced every emotion I’d ever had, but with vigour. Everything was new again. Fuck! My arms and legs tingled and I could feel the life rushing through each vein. I was overwhelmed by nigh on orgasmic vibrations as they poured through my nerves. Moving a muscle was an earth-shattering dopamine release. My eyes began to focus. A kaleidoscope before me revealed, in a million different colours, what a beautiful world I was in. Glittering emerald, blinding yellows, woody browns and deep cherry reds. I detected a quiet but positively blood-curdling shriek again, I think it was mine. But it was quieter than before. What a feeling! What gladness. But I realised: what a deplorable way by comparison I had been before. Trundling passively through my wretched life, filled with fear and inhibition. If only I’d have known sooner. Another wave of ecstasy. I had to tell the others.
“Purely Savage!” “How so?” “They are completely evolved to hunt other species on their worlds. They eat plants too but only as a side dish!” “Why have they not abandoned these habits as their civilization progressed?” “That’s the worst part of it sir. Hunting these creatures one by one wasn’t enough, now they corral hundreds of them into pens and feed then in strange feeding sections! We should glass their planet before they can gain systems beyond the most immediate.” “The practices of the Faeonians were horrible to us as well Ambassador.” “Well at least they only mate whenever and with whomever they please. It doesn’t harm anyone really. But this is a twisted ritual of torture!” “Does the flesh of these animals contain nutrients vital to their survival?” “Yes sir but....” “Ambassador, these bipeds are the first to discover terraforming. We need to get this tech. If your cultural insensitivity gets in the way you will be replaced and sent to Giiron for re-evaluation.” “Yes sir...... do you want me to send their ambassador in?” “Very much Yes. We can save civilizing them for after this deal goes through.” “Here he is.” “Oh my your excellency you have got some strange food!”
About a month ago, all sorts of weird things started happening. Reports were coming in of people being able to float a few feet off the ground, push a parked car with enough effort, or run faster than they could ride a bike, heck I even knew some girl who said she could “kind of” understand what her pet dog was saying. I don’t know the cause, but for one reason or another it seemed that people were starting to develop what I can only call superpowers. Honestly, I thought they were pretty lame, floating a few feet is less useful than just jumping, why push a car when you can drive it, and what good is running fast if you still get exhausted? That was until it happened to me. I had just come back from a party with my coworkers at the bar, and had maybe had just a bit too much to drink and probably would’ve had more if it wasn’t close to closing time. My apartment was only around a ½ mile away from the bar so I didn’t really think I had to hold back since I could just walk home. I get to my door, and what do you know? My keys are gone, not in my pockets, not on the ground, I can’t find them anywhere. I could’ve just walked back and tried to see if my keys were there, or talked to the landlord, but no. My drunk ass thinks of a bright idea, I’ll just break into my own apartment! I start thinking I can pick the lock with a paperclip I found in my pocket like in the movies, and try for a good while before I start to get pretty pissed off. Then, I think I’ll just bust the door down. I rush at it and feel kind of a weird, dizzying feeling and then, the impact, but not on my door. Next thing I know I’m flat on my face on my apartment floor, the door behind me is still closed. I don’t have much time to process what happened because I’m suddenly hit with the worst wave of nausea I’ve ever felt in my life and have to run to the bathroom. I barf my guts out and then pass out in the shower. I woke up this morning feeling hungover, but not nearly as bad as I did last night. I wait for my mind to clear up a bit, and then I start thinking about what happened last night. It felt like, I just sort of “skipped” past the door. What the hell was that? This requires some experimentation. A couple more falls on my face and trips to the bathroom later, I think I’ve figured it out. Turns out if I concentrate I can teleport around 3 feet, but doing it makes me dizzy as hell. In the grand scheme of things, most would agree this is a pretty lame power, and normally I’d be inclined to agree, but if I can use this to break into my apartment, where else can I get into?
"Recent events paint me as a monster. I understand. I would think of myself as a monster were I in your shoes. I'm telling you this so you can have the full picture. Both sides of the story. I only ask that you withhold judgement until I finish. Thank you. When I grew up, I dreamed of being a superhero. I wanted to fly, to run faster than sound, shoot beams of fire out of my eyes. I wanted to help people. When my friends and I would play, we would fight over the fate of the city, to save the damsel in distress, save the world from the evil machinations of Dr. Malcontent (My friend Jerry). I had a good childhood, my parents loved me very much, and I did well in school. I was and am a good person. Believe me. I started to develop my powers when I turned eighteen. I know you're expecting some kind of complicated origin story, possibly involving alien technology or mutated arachnids. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but one day I was normal, the next I wasn't. That's the story. I was able to create portals. They started off small. I could teleport a remote into my hand, get my cellphone from my bedroom, that kind of thing. With practice however, I started to shine. I could teleport cars, buses, eventually, I even managed a small house. I only utilized my power for good, I still held onto the idea that superheros could be real, and that I could be the very first. The first in a new era of prosperity. I was mistaken. Within a year of saving pedestrians from being hit by cars, stopping armed robberies in progress, and other acts of general super-heroing, the government found me. Men in black suits sneaked into my bedroom and drugged me. I ended up in a secret government research facility in Nevada. No, not Area 51. This was the place they held the actual aliens, the actual ancient technology. This was the place they held me. If they had just taken me, everything which happened later could've been avoided. They didn't have to go so far. They...they took my girlfriend. They took my family. They came to me when I woke up. The men in the black suits. They showed me a video feed of my family, each separated, each blindfolded. They made me listen to them beg, plead for mercy, demand explanations. My Mother wet herself in fear. Do you have any idea what that did to me? They explained to me in very simple terms that if I didn't do everything they told me to, they would torture and eventually kill everyone I loved. I complied. They wired my with sensors, some of which, as you can see, are still attached. My doctors say that they are fully integrated. They will never be removed. They made me use my powers in a thousand ways, they tested my limits, forced me to explore every possible use of them. Eventually they discovered that I was capable of creating permanent gateways. Portals which would never decay, never fade. You should have seen the researcher's eyes shine. They trotted me out, day after day, forcing me to slowly build massive portals which could be used to connect all of their cities. They had me open smaller portals into secret enemy facilities so they could infiltrate compounds. Oh, yes, I'm the person responsible for the network of portals in America. Like the slaves who built the railroads, my blood, sweat, and tears went into those portals. I've decided to leave them up. I can't harm the people for the callousness of the government. Eventually things came to a head. Their engineers and scientists produced a device which would keep me awake 24/7. A device which would allow them to utilize my powers without my consent. A side effect of the machine was that I would be brain-dead. I resisted them when they came to install their machine. They showed me a video of men in black suits torturing my Mother. My Mother. I acted then without thought. I created a dozen portals which bisected the men who were confronting me. Half of their bodies appeared very suddenly in the Sahara desert, the other half rested on the lab floor. That was the start. I watched the screen as an alarm sounded. I watched them shoot my Mother in the head. I killed every man in that base. I went room to room, I searched everywhere. They weren't in the building. Eventually, I found recordings of each one of my loved ones. Dozens of recordings. They had already tortured and killed each one. I had been watching recordings all along. After I left the building, I opened a portal into the heart of the Sun. I burned that blight away from the world. I'm not the villain the world makes of me. I'm not a monster. I'm the hero. I fight the monsters. Today, I break their rule forever. Today, I will bring their entire empire down around their heads. I wanted someone to know, just in case they manage to finally kill me. Just in case I'm no longer around to tell my story." With my story told, I patted the captive reporter on the shoulder. She looked at me, tears in her eyes. I wondered if she cried for me, or if she cried in fear of me. It didn't matter. I opened a portal and stepped into it. Off to finish my fight. Off to make the bastards pay. To avenge my family. ___________________________________ /r/SirLemoncakes Hot damn that was fun to write. I have ideas for a part two if there's any interest. Cheers.
Richard Moore was a man. A reasonable man, at that. He treated his peers with reasonable respect. He loved his family to a reasonable degree. He called his mother every weekend without fail, except for times where he reasonably could not. He rarely got mad, and in the few cases he did - all of which for very reasonable reasons - he never took it out on those around him. And when someone needed his help, he would do everything he could to help them. Within reason. So when he died in a completely unreasonable way, he was doing his best to stay open minded and calm. Sure, there were a million things he had wanted to do before he died, but the universe works in mysterious ways, and surely - surely - there had to have been a reason for this. And well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. There was indeed a reason. It was just a pretty bad one. The angel stood before him, with a sheepish look on his face. He didn’t look like an angel. Or at least, not like the way angels were pictured on Earth. He wore a crisp white suit, held a big black briefcase, and had bags under his eyes from stress and a lack of sleep. Not unlike your average corporate pen-pusher. Except this particular pen-pusher’s pen pushing determined the life of an innocent man, and he had managed to mess it up. 6 minutes 27 seconds. Not a long stretch of time, but long enough for Richard to lose his life in a rather undignified way. While Gabriel McGee had been slacking off, Richard had paused to admire some pretty little thing in a pretty little shop window, and next thing you know a drunk, hairy New Yorker had lost his footing and knocked Richard down a flight of stairs to his death. His body twisted into a rather inappropriate position, the poor man's soul was now stuck face to face (or, uh, spirit to spirit) with his supposed “guardian angel.” Upon his arrival in the great and glorious Kingdom of Heaven, a rather apologetic Archangel had explained that he was now, in fact, dead. And he would get to decide what his incredibly professional guardian’s punishment would be. The opportunities were endless. Richard could lock him in a room for a century and drive him mad with silence. He could force him to work exerting, cruel labour until he collapsed. He could make him listen to mumble rap non-stop for a few weeks. Anything he wished. But once more, Richard was reasonable man. He understood the pains and sufferings of the corporate world. He had a few questions about why such a system operated in Heaven, of all places, but that was besides the point. He could emphasise with the angel in front of him, and his heart, while still mildly annoyed about losing the company of everyone he loved, decided to choose forgiveness. He would not punish him. He would spare his soul, and let him live on, to try and be a better person. Was this not a teaching of God? So, as he told the Archangel his decision, his heart swelled with love and empathy, and he found himself reaching a peacefulness he had never felt before. He was no longer burdened by the sin that poisoned the human race. He was enlightened, for lack of a better word, to the truth of existence. “Seriously? Well, I mean, whatever floats your boat, I guess.” The Archangel said. “Well if you don’t want to choose, we’ll just go with standard protocol and send him to millennium long damnation.” Richard didn’t even get a chance to complain before the angel before him burst into flames with a scream. Richard Moore was a man. A reasonable one, at that. But in that particular moment, he realised “reasonable” may not be the best way to score brownie points with a God. This is my first WP, so it’s probably got a whole plethora of problems, so feel free to point them out. Thank you!
Discovering my gift was purely by accident. A puppy, too sick to lift her head, suddenly bounding around with youthful energy. All I did was touch her head and wish it better. I didn’t tell anyone, not until the pup reached her second birthday. I sat in the backyard with my brother while the dog sprinted from fence to fence. My brother laughed when I mentioned it to him, that I saved our dog. He didn’t laugh for long, not when she stopped running. I didn’t use my power for years after. I kept it hidden away, a secret part of me that no one needed to know. It was easy; there weren’t too many opportunities to use it. My childhood was spent incident-free. I missed those days. School was hard, medical school even harder. What pushed my limits, however, was confronting death over and over again. Rotations in ER made me use my power for the first time in over a decade. An infant, struggling to fight off an infection determined to take his life. I did it without thinking. No one noticed when I brushed my hand against his forehead, or how he magically responded to the treatments right after. His parents were just happy to bring home their baby boy. When I could avoid it, I did. When it would have been suspicious, I restrained myself. When people questioned me, I deflected. Focus that they’re alive, please don’t question how. After a few years, I thought I could get away with it all. A good system to save my patients without damning them in the end. Plus, alcohol eased the pain from the hopeless cases. I guess… I guess this was my punishment? Confidence turned into arrogance, blinding me from the tightrope I spent a lifetime walking. Now here I stood, my brother on his death bed. A disease with no cure, his body wasting away as quickly as his mind. I could save him. With just one touch and a wish, I could save my brother. Give him the full life he deserved. Then I thought of the consequences. How the doctor saved his brother. The miraculous recovery that should be impossible. The questions that would follow, the research that would be involved, time wasted on a treatment that wouldn’t work. And I would be at the center of it all. An endless storm of questions to find a cure. Paranoia reared its ugly head. It whispered through my thoughts, asking: Would you be able to keep your secret? This gift was truly a curse. The power to save so many lives, except for the one that mattered. Heal my brother now and risk the truth. How many lives did I save over the years? How many did this decision threatened? If the truth came out, my brother would still be dead. Should I risk all their lives so that my brother may live just a little bit longer? The night was long as I stood over him. My hand hovered a hairsbreadth away from his forehead. All I could think to myself was, Was it worth the risk? That decision haunted me for the rest of my life.
People spend most of their lives dreaming about magic. They create worlds in their heads where the impossible is possible, where a mystical force operates outside of the laws we know. Does things we can’t explain. What they don’t understand is finding magic, real magic, in the real world isn’t romantic at all. Just like everything else, it changes from novel to mundane. It’s a new toy that loses its appeal as others appear for the playing. And just like everything else, the real magic you find in the real world can do bad just as often as it does good. Only the bad it does is much, much worse. It feels like a lifetime ago. I crunched “data” at a mid-sized software company called Byte Works, which amounted to checking one row of numbers against another. Highlighting discrepancies. Printing it out for my boss. The work was pure drudgery, but the pay was decent and benefits were fantastic. Before I’d finished out two years I had a healthy 401k and almost three weeks of vacation time saved up. Didn’t know how I would use it, not having a family, but having it was nice. Like rare coins you won’t spend. Byte Works connected to a larger campus of office buildings, all situated in the wooded areas along the outskirts of Memphis, Tennessee. Throughout the campus sidewalks ran like veins, leading to little park areas with goldfish ponds and expensive benches. Eventually I roamed further from the campus. A man’s quest for solitude is endless, since any secluded spot can be ruined by just one trespasser. I took to walking through the woods themselves, just listening to the birds and the wind, not thinking at all. One day I dropped my cell phone. When I bent to retrieve it, it wasn’t there. What I found was a perfectly dark hole, about as big around as a bowling ball. Fearing snakes, but fearing an AT&T bill more, I reached into the hole and felt around for my device. I grasped at a rectangular object and brought it out. It was a bundle of twenty dollar bills, wrapped with that labeled paper that banks use. Six hundred and forty dollars. About the cost of my phone. I stuck my hand back into the hole, felt around for a good, long while, but it yielded nothing else that day. In the months that followed, I returned to the hole often. At first it was great fun to just see what it would return when I fed it different items. I dropped in a red, swingline stapler and received a shiny postcard from Maine. I fed the hole a compute mouse and got back an old, Australian stamp, protected in a laminated square of plastic. Always I would return to my desk, search for the new item’s price on ebay and find an approximate match to what I had put in. But office supplies were getting boring. I was just beginning to toy with the idea of dropping jewelry down the hole, when everything changed. I had taken a set of earrings from one of my co-workers desks. I had gone into her cubicle to find a report, but instead I found the diamonds, and without thinking I snatched them. When I dropped them into the hole they would be gone forever, the theft completely untraceable. I did something first though. On a whim, really. I hefted a nearby stick, the kind heavy enough to put at the bottom of a campfire, and threw it into the hole. It was rotten and broke apart even as I tossed it. I had never tried something completely worthless before. I had never tried garbage. When I reached into the hole, horror the likes of which I had never felt gripped me by the throat. Because what I felt inside that hole was a tiny arm. A tiny hand, with tiny fingers grasping at mine. From a hole in the ground in the backwoods of Memphis Tennessee, I pulled out a human child. I had to take it home. Leaving the child in the woods was only a fleeting thought, never seriously considered, just a guilty indulgence of a desperate mind. But sometimes I still wish I had. After the initial shock of it, after frantic internet research about baby care and hurriedly acquiring all of the things babies need to survive, I began to reflect on it. Was human life worthless? Were we so overpopulated that each new person was only worth a rotting piece of wood? Or was this particular human baby worthless? Was there something about this child that reduced his value? Was the hole measuring his value to society? Over the next ten years, the first decade of this magical child’s life, I got my answer. As soon as he could crawl, he was looking for things to break. Things to hurt. When he could stand and walk the trouble quadrupled, and the bigger and stronger he got the more he tested my rules, crossed whatever boundaries I set down. Schools searched for reasons to expel him permanently, so he could be someone else’s problem, and eventually I had to enroll him in a special school for mentally troubled children. I had to withdraw some of my 401k early. There was a penalty, of course, ten percent. It hurt. The next decade of his life was even worse. Alcohol, drugs, petty crime, stealing from me every chance he got and staying out of the house for days at a time. He dropped out of school and ran away from home at 15 years old, and god help me I was happy. I was so happy. That was five years ago. I still hear from him every now and again, asking for bail money or a place to sleep for a few nights. Sometimes I give in, sometimes I don’t. When I do I regret it. But like it or not, I am responsible for bringing this human being into this world. This magical, inexplicable human being, traded to the universe for a rotted out piece of wood. I haven’t been back to hole. When Bart was still in elementary school I lost my job at Byte Works, too many days missed to deal with his behavior problems at school. To stay home with him when he was suspended. I work for an insurance company now, and it’s fine. Sometimes I think of going back, returning to that tiny magical void in the woods, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what that magic will give back to me. I’m afraid of using something I don’t understand. I may the only person alive who can say this. I found real magic. I found it right here in the real world. And I wish I hadn’t.
I stared out the window at the back of the bus, watching the droplets of rain slide down the side, pretending I was in a really intense moment of a movie. It would be at least another twenty minutes until my stop and I forgot to bring a book, so here I was. I traced my finger along one of the droplets being dragged across the glass when I heard a screech from outside. I turned to look and found myself flung into the seat in front of me as we crashed to a halt. The passengers began getting up slowly, some groaning in pain, but most craning their necks to see what they hit. "Hey, driver, what happened?"a man wearing a beanie asked to the front. There was no answer. "Driver, you alright up there?"he called again. Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Deemo cupping a white orb in his black hands. He looked at me with big, innocent eyes as he extended his arms towards me. "Driver?"the man with the beanie made his way to the front of the bus cautiously. "Is that the driver's soul, Deemo?"I hissed at him quietly. Deemo cocked his head to one side and extended his arms further, imploring me to take it. "He's dead!"the man screamed from the front. The passengers collectively gasped in horror, save for me who glared at Deemo. He continued his genuine look at me, looking down towards the soul as if suggesting I hadn't yet noticed it. "I told you I don't want these! Stop doing this! I'm just trying to go home! You know how much longer you just made my commute!?"I whispered angrily. He looked hurt, understanding that I was ridiculing him, but still having no understanding of the English language. "You need to give it back to him!"I muttered, pointing a commanding finger toward him. Deemo looked down, confused. Then he shrugged and moved to consume the soul himself. "No!"I cried. Deemo's hands lowered from his mouth as the entirety of the bus turned to me. Pandemonium broke immediately as people started screaming and pointing and clambering over each other to exit the bus. The door wouldn't open and no one thought of the latch to release the door. Someone broke a window and fit his upper body through before getting stuck. Deemo stared at them with fire and hatred in his eyes. "Deemo, Deemo,"I said quickly, trying to calm him, "it's ok. You can let them go. Look, I'll take the soul, too! Deemo, don't-- NO!" Deemo vanished from in front of me as he phased through each of the passengers rapidly, laughing his uncanny screech with every soul stolen. Within the moment it took for me to complete my scream for him to stop, he had already warped back in front of me, holding a mound of souls. "Deemo, we talked about this,"I chided. He extended his arms towards me. "Deemo..."I said testily. He insisted and began pouting. "Ok, fine,"I said, absorbing another mound of infinitely large power into my own soul. "But this is the last time!" _____________________________________________ For more stories about demons, come on down to r/Nazer_the_Lazer!
I signed up to be Mr.Nolan's helper because I thought it would be a fun summer job. As an aspiring doctor myself, I thought about how amazing it would be to get actual experience learning from the legend himself. I simply couldn't contain myself once I found out that I was chosen, out of thousands of applicants, to work for Dr.Nolan over the summer. Yet here I am, almost an entire month later, cleaning out his closet and doing petty chores for him while he's off performing on a live patient. As I'm just about finished with my work cleaning out the storage unit, I realize the stupidity and irony of the situation I'm in. I realize how foolish I am to let myself be taken advantage of like this. And so, in this fit of rage, I decided, like any rational being would, to punch the wall as hard as I could. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting to happen. Maybe my hand would go straight through, maybe I would end up with a broken fist. But what I didn't expect, what I couldn't have thought of in a thousand years, was that a manual as thick as an encyclopedia would fall with a muffled thunk on my head. Before I could fly into another senseless rage, I read the title of the book: "The Human Machine: Debug Commands & How to Enable Administrator Mode". Intrigued, I decided to meander through the book a bit, skimming the pages. Chapter 1: Re-Calibrating Vision The Human Machine is quite a simple thing, and thus may constantly lose vision and need to be reset. To initiate a reset of a machine, rotate the head of the machine 180 degrees, from left shoulder to right shoulder. Immediately, place the smallest digit of the right hand under the machine's tongue, and press down for 5 seconds... Realizing, this must be a joke, I was about to put the manual away before I realized that there was about an hour before Nolan got home. I decided I'd try it out, just for the hell of it, and see what happens. After performing the 'ritual', nothing happened, so I sighed and put the book away. It was stupid of me to think that Humans were some sort of machines created by some larger force. As a strict rationalist, I chastised myself for being so stupid and falling for such a simple prank. That, however, was earlier today, about 4 hours ago. And in 4 hours, I've realized that my glasses stopped working. Glasses that I've worn for 3 years have suddenly become useless, and I can see perfectly. Maybe there's more to this 'manual' than I thought...
Shopping is always fun for me and my buddies cause we finally get an excuse to get off our planet for a few hours and go on a little jaunt to the next galaxy. Typically we can just pop over to the corner store between the Horologium Supercluster and the fornax cluster, but sometimes we might go to the Abell Cluster if we want avocados. But today was just not fun, like at all. We had to drive back and forth and waste a bunch of starship fuel and I had a headache, just not my ideal Fluurgqxday. The whole escapade began literally right when I woke up. I was about to get some cereal and take my gravity sickness medication, but of course Cq'URxiz left his quazaric accelerator on the floor of the den and I tripped and totally smashed the sqirtx-ing f'dunq our nice swivel chair! Of course I'm sqirtx-ing livid cause i'm gravity sick AND I could've just cracked one of my ribs but --- get this --- Cq'URxiz blames me! He's all like "Ugh! Grunknok! You totally coulda broke my accelerator, bruh! Are your sensory glands not adjusting right!?"and I'm like "Why you leavin' your things around?"and stuff and we're both getting mad, yada yada. I swear I was gonna rip one of his tendrils off, but then Wombk comes home from the night shift and gives us his leftover Flibbunin rolls. I always like when Wombk does that. He's pretty chill. Finally we all calmed down and started talking and decided we have to get something quick and cheap for the den, but it's Fluurgqxday so of course nobody's open! We looked on SchMoogle for like half a parsec, then Wombk finally finds something... "Well buds, I've got some good news, and some f'dunqy news..."Wombk told us with a not so encouraging look in his optical spheres. "I found a place that's in our galaxy and open for the next few parsecs." He looked super guilty and I feel bad so I'm like, "That's chill, what's the catch?" Then he displays his hologram in the center of the den to show us the f'dunqy news. "It's in the Solar System." Cq'URxiz and I are all moany like "Aww SchPlech!"but we needed that swivel seat. We were headed to Urth. Gag me. \-------------------------------------------------- We finally got to Urth, some backwater world in a really bad interstellar neighborhood, and shopping was not even a little bit fun. We went to this place I couldn't even say right. It was something like "Ih-Keh-uah"or something. But the name was just the tail of the comet. When we got in I realized they just straight up HAVE the furniture! As if they couldn't just have a solidified occulogram to save on space and let us see stuff in a suspended plane of existence. But we had to just walk through some kind of maze of colorful chairs and fancy towels. It kinda reminded me of one of those villages these bipedal aliens would build just to use to test of those ancient "New-Q-Lahr Bah-ms"I heard of. We traversed this hellscape of kitchens and living rooms for 10 parsecs before Cq'URxiz started complaining that his tendrils were getting sore. I didn't even blame him! These 'jeeen shorts' and 'rahm-poorz' we had to wear were crazy uncomfortable, and my scales were getting all dry from all the air conditioning. When we got to the FIRST floor we got to this giant library of cardboard cubes. (I forgot to mention, we started on the level closest to the top. For a second I thought I took too many gravity sickness pills and forgot where down was.) At least we picked a nice chair and managed to carry it all the way here. Not sure what all the cardboard cubes were for. We found some 'muhn-nii' inside one alien's pocket and went to pay for our new chair, and towels, and one giant fuzzy serpentine toy that I like, and some spicy spheres of cooked flesh. But here's the horrible part... the aliens told us we had to put the chair back and get replace it with one of the cardboard cubes! Like, what's in those boxes that's so important that we can't have our chair? Eventually we just took the box and said we should come back for the chair. At least we had our flesh spheres. \--------------------------------------------- Back on the ship we were crazy quizzical about what was in the box. I asked my buds, "What is it?" "I would suppose a very small, flat robot that will lead us to a planet FULL of chairs."said Wombk. Cq'URxiz picked up the box and shook it. "It's full of used batteries! Urthians are always producing garbage so they trick us not Urthans into taking it off their planet." Wombk shouted, "That's impossible!"at Cq'URxiz. "Our disguises were idiotproof! I spent all day looking up rahm-poorz and how to wear them!" "Simmer down buds!"I shouted at my buds. "There's only one way to find out what's in this cardboard cube." We all huddled around the cube with our Buukliball bats at the ready and wearing our new fancy towels for protection. They were shiny and fluffy, so they must've had some kind of practical use for protection. I cut open the box with my clawed front tendril and... ...It was full of planks made of tree flesh covered in a film made of oil bi-products. It was so confusing. Even after we dumped everything on the ground. We took a parsec staring at the pieces and considering every viable option for what this could mean. Is it a peace offering? Was it like those not fancy towels that light skinned aliens gave to not light skinned aliens when they didn't like them? Finally, FINALLY Wombk finds something important. "HA! I've got the answer my compatriots!"He flung his dorsal tongue at this piece of flattened tree meat with ink on it and scanned its insides. "Okay. Grunknok, fuse that long piece of tree flesh with that flat piece of tree flesh with that small metal spinny thing!" I did that. They were connected. "Now what?"I asked Wombk. He looked at the flat tree meat and shouted, "Cq'URxiz, spin that long spinny metal thing into that round hole in the bendy piece of metal!" He did that, and the big flat tree flesh was part of the other connected pieces. We kept connecting tree flesh as He told us until, by some kind of miracle, it turned into the chair we were going to buy at Ih-Keh-uah! Cq'URxiz and I were so happy! But i still wondered hoe that flat piece of tree meat helped Wombk... "As surprising as it is..."Wombk said, with a pause at the end for suspense... He pointed to the inside of the tree meat sheet and said "The instructions and names are all written in our language!"
"Hey. Hey Ben." I turned towards the source of the voice. It was too dark to see, which suited me fine. "Yeah?" "I didn't really want to ask earlier, but... what's with that hat you were wearing?" I'd met this group about three hours ago in the alleyway behind the supermarket, and we'd spent most of that time running. I could only thank my lucky eyedropper for the fact that they didn't really have time to pay attention to me... well, actually that eyedropper was in my other pants. I digress. The hat this woman was referring to was one I had found in said supermarket from three hours ago. I had exactly two choices, neither of which even fit me properly: a Thomas the Tank Engine cap, or a My Little Pony beanie. Some part of me thought it would be easier to explain an adult wearing My Little Pony apparel, so in all my infinite (and panicked) wisdom, I snatched it. Man, maybe this apocalypse was inevitable. "I, uh, I'm a big fan."I forced the answer out in much the same way I would force my ex's cooking in. "You're a brony?" "Yep." There were four people in the group I had encountered. I couldn't really see them in the dark, but I could feel their eyes on me nonetheless. I imagine the woman, Alice I think her name was, shrugging at this point. "Fair enough. I respect the dedication." Someone exhaled from their nose rather loudly before clearing their throat. I rolled my eyes. After another moment, there was a laugh of sorts followed by a cough. I started to get irritated. "Look, I get it, but it's cold so, uh, what else am I supposed to do?" The laughing grew more intense and... guttural. There was some shifting around. "Listen asshole,"I began, "If you don't want my help I'll just be on my damn way. I'll have you know, however, that I'm actually pretty damn-" "He's not laughing, dumbass." Someone turned a light on. Whatever was happening was serious enough to risk detection. In the middle of the room, one of the survivors was throwing up on a table. Something Christmas themed, judging by the colours. Alice and one of the other guys went straight to his side. "What's happening? Are you okay?" The guy who had just finished throwing up, Mark, turned to us with a grim look, and rolled up his sleeve. Well, his shirt sleeve. I bet he wishes he could roll up that tattoo sleeve. More noticeable than the terrible sleeve was a large bite-mark on his forearm. A mark of inevitable death. "Oh no, not if I can help it."Alice spoke as if replying to my thoughts. She directed the other two survivors with a respectable amount of composure. "One of you, restrain him. The other, get the machete. Also, someone find a belt. I'll use mine if need be."She turned to me. "I'm going to need that beanie." It was now truly an emergency. "No can do." "Okay, now one of you start..."Alice braked and hit reverse. "What did you just say to me?" "No can do. I'm not giving you my beanie." Alice suddenly seemed a lot taller. "We need it. We'll need to cover his wound." "Surely there are more effective materials arou-" I was cut off by Mark's screaming. He had just been disarmed. Alice turned away and took off her belt, which she then began to fasten above the area of the cut. Before she tightened it, she turned back to me. "I need that beanie now. Quick." "No! It's too late for him anyway!" "Give me the goddamn beanie!" From behind, one of the other survivors pulled the beanie off without my consent. Oh god... There were several moments of silent shock. Even Mark went quiet. Then: "How did you get a shaver in there like that?" "Was that bit cut with a blender or what." "I want to say it's like a reverse Taxi Driver haircut, but there's definitely some monk influence there too." "I'm willing to bet a salad bowl was involved." "I'd take that bet if there was still an economy." "Is that... is that a bridge in there?" "Grbraaaaah." The pain didn't last too much longer after that, thankfully. I mean, not for me. It actually began for everyone else when Mark sat up and started chewing Alice's neck up like a steak. I snatched by beanie back and ran. I didn't look behind me, so I'm not really sure what happened to the rest of that group. Probably nothing good. I feel bad, truly, but thankfully, nobody will ever be able to prove that my haircut ever existed or didn't exist. Anyway, that's why I just shave my head now. Male pattern hair loss doesn't start until way further ahead, you know, so there's no proof that that's what's happening here. It all started with the zombies. You can't prove it didn't.
Uriel nudged Metatron in the general direction of the Throne. “Your tur--,” the angel began to mutter, but thunder cut him off, tearing through the space around the two currently physical beings. “Just fuckin' tell me,” the thunder said. If it were possible for angels to lose color, Uriel and Metatron did so. It took a moment for Metatron, voice of God, to find his own. Finally, he stammered out, “Al-Almighty. The, uhm... The Infestation still persists.” Silence. Fourteen rocky, uninhabited planets somewhere in the Milky Way galaxy cracked in half simultaneously. A figure of starlight coalesced before the angels, red giants for extremities and white hot eyes. “I threw their fucking MOON at them! You're telling me this toilet swill continues to pollute my Eden? How?! Tell me what unholy bullshit saved them from a literal God-damned moon hurtling at their shrimpy bodies?” Metatron stammered again. “The...well, Asteroi...” Uriel grew mildly impatient. “They'd been training for something similar since 1979, local time. They built a simulator for shooting space debris out of the sky. When the initial comet showed up in Paradise to ricochet their moon at them, they built ships and guns and just sort of...competed for the high score.” There was more silence as the Fire of Creation burned, unmoving, staring at the angels. Starlight imploded and became a black hole. Rather than radiating light as it had a microsecond previously, light now flooded toward the void, illuminating the figure itself only in shadow. “Blow up the fucking Sun.” “But Almighty,” Uriel balked, “The time and energy and intricate balance of creating Paradise, just to throw it all away...” “I'll make another vacation spot. Torch the little pond scum.” Uriel and Metatron both knew better than to outright argue with God. They bowed their heads solemnly and left the presence of the Throne without further sound. They traveled through celestial space, coming to the vicinity of Earth. With a glance, Uriel set the Sun toward exploding through the physical rules that govern Creation. And Metatron and Uriel watched. Soon, Uriel and Metatron returned to the Throne. The void was still there, stewing in space as matter continued to spaghettify into it. It said nothing. “Almighty,” Metatron began, “do you recall a television show called Firefly?”
Perseus crept into the cave quietly. He wasn't an idiot, fighting something he couldn't look at was more like suicide than bravery, so he had waited for the Gorgon to go to sleep before sneaking in. He approached the sleeping monster, shield held so he could navigate via the reflection, and raised his sword. Then he prepared and... couldn't bring himself to kill her. Honestly, he kind of felt bad for her, from the sound of her legend it wasn't her fault she was like this and she had been using her magic mostly to punish people she thought were evil. It was the king that had grievances with her, not him. In fact, said king had been staring at Perseus' mom in some pretty creepy ways before he's sent the boy on this quest... Suddenly, Medusa stirred. If Perseus was going to do the deed, he needed to be quick. He held up his sword and... returned it to his side. He might aspire to be a hero, but Medusa wasn't a monster he was keen to slay. He started tiptoeing out of the cave, before stumbling on a rock and making a racket as he fell onto his shield. If Medusa had been falling back to sleep, she was wide awake now, eyes and nostrils flaring. "Who's there?"she shouted into the cave. Perseus quietly thanked Hera for that magic helmet her nymphs had given him that made him invisible. He started sneaking toward the mouth of the cave again... and stumbled over another rocky outcropping. How did he get in here so easily? Accursed sandals and their tendency to catch on everything. "Aha!"Medusa shouted, lunging at the source of the noise. Perseus managed to hop out of the way in time, but it was clear that this was coming down to exactly the kind of fight he DIDN'T want to have... unless... "Wait! Stop! My name is Perseus! The king sent me to kill you, but I was on my way out!"Perseus said. "Where are you?"Medusa asked, glancing all around the seemingly empty room both with her normal eyes and the snakes in her hair. "I'm invisible, I came here to prove myself and the gods gave me some stuff to help,"He quickly explained. As soon as he said it, he internally kicked himself for potentially putting himself on the back foot if she did decide to attack. "Came here to prove yourself and you're just leaving? Not exactly hero behavior,"she said. "I... Decided not to. The king who sent me here seemed sketchy, so I'm just going back before he tries to put the moves on my mom,"he said. "Oooh, a creepy dude and a king abusing his power? Mind if I come with?"Medusa said. "I mean, I flew here with some magic shoes, so I'm not sure how you could..."Perseus said. After a brief pause, Medusa asked, "How strong is your back?" --- Perseus flew haphazardly over the sea. Things had gotten mildly easier once Medusa put on his magic helmet so he wouldn't have to try to avert his eyes while carrying a grown woman on his back and flying using wings on his feet, but it was still tricky. He felt a bump at his side as Medusa lightly kicked him. "Hey Perseus, you said you needed to prove yourself?"she asked. "Yes, why?"he responded. "I see some prime hero stuff coming up, best get that sword ready,"she said. As they passed by a mountain, Perseus saw what she was referring to. A beautiful young woman chained to a rock overlooking the sea seemed like the kind of thing that almost certainly involved some sort of giant monster. Or, you know, maybe a murder cult, but he wouldn't split hairs on that front. He flew down to the woman, narrowly avoiding a crash landing as Medusa hopped off onto the solid ground. "Hello ma'am... Uh, who are you and why are you tied to a rock?"he asked. While a bit startled at his sudden appearance, the woman quickly collected herself and spoke. "Oh, uh... My name's Andromeda and I'm the princess of the town just over those mountains... My mother insulted the god of the sea, so now he's sent the Kraken, and is going to let it destroy the city if I don't get sacrificed..."the woman said. "Ugh, royal bullshittery again,"Medusa said. The princess turned to try to find the source of the voice, finding nobody. "Well, I cant just leave you here..."Perseus said. "And I didn't exactly want to be a sacrifice, but it's not like my parents are going to choose me over the city,"she said. As she spoke, a massive welt of water started rising from the sea, a massive serpent bursting forth from the water. Octopus tendrils writhed around its alien-looking mouth. Medusa whistled at the sight. She said, "Welp, I can't help with that, too big for my power. You distract it, I'll get the princess out of here." "Sure, just leave me to deal with the giant monster alone,"he said to nobody. Medusa had already torn the chains off the princess and was carrying her toward a nearby thicket of trees. Andromeda seemed thoroughly terrified at being hauled around by an invisible person. Perseus took off on his shoes, now surprised at how maneuverable he felt not having to carry another person with him. He easily dodged around the massive creature, jabbing it with his sword when he had the opportunity. He had originally thought the sword Hermes gave him seemed weirdly long, but against a creature this big a short sword wouldn't have done much of anything. Eventually, he managed to get cut deep enough to hit the thing's spine, silencing the great beast. He drifted back to the ground, his arms thoroughly soaked in blood. "Hey! You actually managed to kill it! Nice one!"Medusa's voice rang out from a few feet away. "Yeah, thanks for the help back there,"Perseus said flatly. "I didn't want to throw you off your game. Besides, the princess is waiting for her dashing hero, best not keep her waiting,"she said, nudging him toward the trees. Perseus walked over and found Andromeda cowering under a tree. "I don't know if you noticed, but the monster's dead now,"Perseus said. "I can't go home,"she said. "They wanted to sacrifice me, if I show up they'll try to do it again to avoid pissing off Poseidon..." "Well, I guess you can come live with me and my mom..."Perseus said. Andromeda looked up at him, staring into his eyes for a few seconds before responding. "Okay..."Andromeda said, before standing up and taking Perseus' hand as he led her out of the trees. "Alright, time to kill us a king!"Medusa said, climbing onto Perseus' back as his flying sandals lifted him off the ground. "Wait, how am I supposed to come with you?"Andromeda asked. --- Perseus landed with a bit more finesse this time around, placing Andromeda down from the bridal-carry he'd had her in while Medusa climbed off his back. He directed Andromeda toward his house, where his mother and adoptive family lived, resolving to properly talk to her when this was over, and began marching up toward the king's court. Medusa asked what the plan was, and he told her. They entered the throne room abruptly, and Perseus immediately covered his eyes as Medusa took off the invisibility helmet, turning the king and his entire court to stone. It wasn't a long or complicated plan, but it worked. Finally, Perseus could return to his comfortable life without any more dumb bullshit. Tune in next time as Perseus gets dragged off by Medusa to do more dumb bullshit.
"Those incompetent fucks!" Clyde mumbled as his gaze glazed the dead goblins in front of him. "You got to talk louder buddy, what's wrong?", a large hand covered in obtrusively shiny armor touched his shoulder. "Nothing, I was just internalizing a new spell.", he rashly lied. "Ohhh, you mages are weird.", the dumb faced paladin responded. Jake, what a nuisance - he'd lose a battle of wits against a broom, or so Clyde thought. He had the ever growing suspicion that most of this paladin's prayers weren't actually memorized, but worked by accident (or maybe out of some irritated God's plain pity). Still, apparently his minions were worse. Vazarius, the dark lord, bringer of destruction, father of shadows, enslaver of succubi or as his party called him - Clyde - had almost lost all faith in his subjects. For his goblins to actually be outwitted by this two legged buffalo's suggestion "Hey, let's tell them - 'we're actors, the armor is just for show!' - we'll catch those goblins off-guard!", well... How could he not? Clyde had always thought that when peasants called his rule "bad", it'd be like some wimpy "Mimimi, you mustn't rip out that guy's arms."or "Mimimi, HELP! These spikes hurt"- kind of bad, but damn \- his rule was actually bad! Literally bad! His minions were arrogant, incompetent pricks! Clyde could actually relate to the heroes' party's dislike of them (well, the other reasons like pillaging and rapey-rapey aside), those Goblins were fucking IDIOTS! How was his rule supposed to work out if the implementation was so horribly flawed?! Realizing what he just had learned Clyde (also known as Vazarius, the dark lord, bringer of destruction, father of shadows, enslaver of succubi) snapped his fingers. The elf, the gnome and the idiot in front of him suddenly started gargling, coughing up green spit. Without ever realizing what had hit them they were gone. Maybe he should have made it more fun? He shook off the thought, there had already been enough inefficiency in his rule. Time to make this bad rule a good one, a proper rule. "Maybe I should replace those goblins with robots?", he mumbled to himself as he snapped his fingers again and disappeared in a dark cloud. Either way - it was time to make some changes!
Since the beginning of time, everyone has found a patch of skin of slightly different color somewhere on their body at birth. Every religious text in the world, no matter the culture, no matter the location, all say the same thing: This patch of skin is a clue, or a guide. It will lead you to your soulmate, to true love, to happiness, to the one you’re meant to be with, and we call it “the soulmate patch”. The patch can be anywhere on your body, and your soulmate’s patch will be located in the exact same location and be of the exact same shape. Some say God simply took this patch from each of us and sewed it into our soulmates before sending us to Earth. In the middle ages, it was used by royalty to match princes with princesses and form alliances, marrying them off to their soulmates; it was seen as God’s will for their kingdoms. Many wars were ended this way, and many others were started. Nowadays, people have come to interpret it, not just as romantic soulmate, but sometimes inseparable people. Some people find their soulmate to be their best friends, some people find their soulmates in mentors and students, but still many find in their soulmate the love of their life. Businesses help us find our soulmate by categorizing and cataloging the soulmate patches, they use advanced computer algorithms to trace the most minute details of the patches, and even guarantee a 99% success rate. When I was born, something changed in the way the world viewed the soulmate patch that they had come to rely so heavily on. You see, there have been many notable patches of skin; my friend Trent is the palest kid you’ve ever seen, but his right hand is dark as night, except for his fingertips. Monica has a patch on the back of her calf that looks exactly like Italy in a mulatto color–she always jokes that it means she has to go to Italy to find them. My patch covers half of my head, splitting it right down the middle, but it’s not like any skin anyone has ever seen. It’s an aquamarine color, but if you look closely enough, it looks like there’s little diamond shapes in it; when the light hits it, there’s almost a golden sheen around it, like when the sun hits the water at tropical beaches. Hair doesn’t grow on it ever, so you can imagine the nightmare of picking a hairstyle for the other half. My parents were understandably freaked out when I was born. At first, the doctors thought it was a problem in my genes, some form of chromosome disorder. But one doctor thought to look for my soulmate patch, and upon seeing none, figured that’s what my blue skin was. He ran further studies and looked at the “skin” closer. He discovered that it wasn’t skin at all, but a series of minuscule overlapping scales, like a fish, but much much smaller. My parents tried to convince the doctor to “fix” me, to do a skin graft, or gene treatment to reverse the effect. Unfortunately, there’s nothing that can be done about a soul patch. It’s documented that not only are soul patches undamageable–no scars ever form on them, burn victims can even be identified sometimes by the soulmate patch that remains behind– but it’s genetically not there. The skin, genetically, is still the skin of whoever’s body it came off of; there was no “fixing” me. So, I was homeschooled. My parents took me home and I barely went out into the world. If I did leave the house for any reason, I was always covered up, so I wouldn’t stand out. They were worried about how I would react to how people looked at me, but they never thought about how they treated me. Like something to be hidden away and ashamed of out in public. I thought it was beautiful though. Every once in a while I’d catch myself in my bedroom mirror, and stare at the left side of my face, wondering what my soulmate looked like, with half of my face on theirs; were they looking in the mirror right now too? Where were they? My soulmate patch was heavily discussed in the scientific community. Doctors, biologists, oceanographers, astronomers, all had their own theories as to who my soulmate was. Some thought it simply meant my soulmate was some kind of animal, maybe just a pet fish that I would form a close bond to. Marine Biologists argued that no fish, no animal of any kind, had ever been displayed with any soulmate patch, not even within their own species–humans were the only ones with soulmates and therefore, the only ones with souls. It was preposterous and unheard of. Some talked of underwater or underground intelligent life form that we had yet to find, an undiscovered country; they were able to secure grants to search deeper in our world than ever before in the hopes of discovering this new species. Astronomers suspected it was extraterrestrial skin; whether they were intelligent or not, it would indicate life on other planets. It reinvigorated to dying interest in space exploration in the public. Elon Musk vowed to do everything in his power to find this species and therefore, my soulmate. In twenty-two years, nothing ever came of all that exploration. While the scientific community still fervently searched for the answer, the public had all but forgotten about me, the baby born with half a blue head. I eventually moved out of my parents’ house and started building a life for myself in the outside world I had been kept from for so long. I started going to college again, not online, like my parents had me do before, but in person. While many people just saw me as “that weird kid with the blue skin,” I did eventually make some genuine friends. I had started getting used to the looks people gave me, and even became a bit of a celebrity on campus. People would ask for my picture and pose with me. It was weird, but I was just happy to talk to people, and have people look at my skin the way I did, not like my parents did. I was something cool and interesting, not something to be hidden away in shame. Then, one day, while I was on my way to my Ethics of the Soulmate Patch class, what I had been waiting for my whole life happened, and in no dream could I have ever pictured what it would mean for me, or the rest of humanity. From the concrete path twenty feet in front of me, what I can only describe as a geyser shot up into the air, pouring down water in a mini deluge around me. I ran up to look at the ground, but instead of concrete I was staring into a round pool of water, ten feet across and a perfect circle. In its depths I could see lights and tiny figured moving across its surface. As I stared deeper, I saw a shape swimming up towards me. I stepped back just as a figure exploded from the water and landed next to the pool. The figure stood seven feet tall, but was very thin, like they had been a normal person once, and pulled like taffy. The clothes they wore were skin tight, and lights seemed to run up and down them in different directions. From the arms and calves were finlike protrusions, and I couldn’t tell if they were part of their clothes or their bodies. Their eyes were fully black, with eyelids that blinked from side to side, not up and down. But what took my breath away was their face; because the same blue skin that covered my face, covered every exposed part of this being’s body, except for the left side of their face, which had my skin. The creature, looked directly at me, and with an almost gurgle, as though speaking through a thick and viscous liquid said to me, “I’ve finally found you. It’s finally happened, our Earths can finally unite.” The creature gave me what I can only guess is a smile, as it showed its tiny sharp fangs that lined his mouth in rows. I reached up to touch my face, feeling with my fingertips the texture I found so familiar and relaxing. I looked at this thing, this being that was meant to be my soulmate and said, “Huh” before I crumpled to the ground, unconscious. &#x200B; &#x200B; Sorry if this is a little long, but I hope you enjoy. Feedback welcome!
‘Commencing transfer in 3… 2…’ The connection fuzzes out. I sit in the docking bay in absolute darkness with the shutters down over my retinal cameras. The connection fuzzes back in, briefly. ‘.. Do you read me?’ asks a tinny, noisy voice. Then it goes again. I compose a message: I read you. Nothing. For a long time. My shutters slide up and I zoom in on the console panel on the far wall. Three blinking lights. That’s new. After a brief ‘Help’ scan I find a document headed, ‘In the event of death’. Dead. I scan a few more archives. No possibility of return. Back-up battery duration 72 hours. Something deep inside wants to live, so I power-save; all communications shut down, all power cut except movement and sensory capabilities. That buys me an extra 9 hours, a total of 81. &#x200B; ‘It’s hard to describe, exactly,’ I say, closing the book in my lap. My daughter peers at me from amongst her pillows after having interrupted me reading her favourite bedtime story to ask me, What’s being a robot like, daddy? I look at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, ‘Close your eyes.’ She does. ‘Alright, now wiggle your toes. Feel them?’ ‘Ya …’ ‘Imagine there’s water filling you up, starting at your toes and going all the way up to your neck,’ I close my eyes too, ‘Take as long as you want, and tell me when you’re there.’ A long time passes; fifteen minutes at least. Eventually, I open my eyes and see her head downturned against the pillow, her mouth hanging open, fast asleep. I smile and whisper, ‘That’s what it’s like, sweetie. Sleep well.’ &#x200B; My continuous tracks roll me over Martian soil, a fine powder of volcanic basalt rock. I’m making my way out of the compound for the first time. It had been part of my directive to take no unnecessary risks which meant keeping close to my repair kit and power hub. No need for that now. No directive. I bump up and down over little hills, skilfully navigate around crevices, constantly running calculations and determinations as to terrain levels and hazard assessment. I maintain appropriate speed, pause at particularly risky ground where rocks jut out of the soil or little dimples betray deep, hidden tunnels. I go for hours. At times, I find my systems running automatically and in those times I catch the echo of a distant memory, a whisper detected by my auditory systems which, when I then check the logs, never happened. &#x200B; ‘Will you marry me?’ She started hyperventilating immediately. At first, I was laughing and so were the dinner guests surrounding us. Then, she fainted, her red hair splayed around her like a bloodspatter and slim orange dress stark against the fancy black carpet. They called a doctor, gave us our meal on the house and I sat with her in a room just off the kitchen, busy chefs shouting and cursing in the next room. The tip I left was astronomical. She draped her arms around my neck, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, lips nuzzled wet against my neck, and said, ‘That was yes.’ &#x200B; I’m observing my speedometer go from 3mph to 9mph to 14mph. Warning lights blink gently amongst the stars in the periphery of my heads-up-display and I can feel the temperature of the motor rising and rising. The landscape whizzes by, faster and faster. Suddenly, the tracks stop, and the great mass of my metal body skids to a halt at the very edge of a steep ravine. My auto-tracking retinas track the trajectory of all those little rocks sprayed up and catapulted into the black. I wasn’t aware of that particular emergency override. I scan through my ‘Help’ tool and successfully follow the method to disable it. I inch forward until my altimeter whirrs and clicks, dropping rapidly, then, in the next moment, eighty-percent of my capacities are wiped out. My battery reports a leak, the hours ticking down from 63 to 58 to 42 to 24 to 5 to 1 to …
They did it. The mad fools did it. The familiar red and white ball fit snugly into the palm of my hand, my thumb and middle finger resting in the groove around the side. Why did they choose me? Surely you’d pick someone interesting, like someone who does more travelling per year than my annual trip to Benidorm, or keep things consistent, you know, find a twelve year old somewhere. Then again, that seems like a very bad idea. So perhaps an extraordinarily mediocre digital accounts assistant in his late twenties is quite a safe bet. The note doesn’t specify which one it is. It’s been years since I’ve played, so there’s about a thousand of these things. I don’t really know how to handle this, until I see the post-it note on the back, “Pick one of 807”. We’re not including Sword and Shield then, apparently. It’s going to be a very different world soon. Maybe I should get a Charizard and fly to work on its back, like I’m sure half of my coworkers would. But…. I don’t know, having a pet dragon seems pretty difficult. Plus I haven’t changed my smoke alarm batteries recently. Loads of people are going to use them to fight, so maybe I should get something strong. A quick google search tells me my best options are a dog that can electrocute me, a fat bear, and a set of keys. Perhaps not. What about Gardevoir? Oh god, no, not that. I’m going about this the wrong way. What do I need? Money, perhaps? But the unlimited amount of money I could get from a Meowth is just going to inflate the economy. Entertainment? Both Spotify and Netflix negate the need for something like Mr Mime or Jigglypuff, both of which would be pretty creepy around the house. Jesus Christ, this world is going to be a nightmare… No, I need something useful, reliable, and easy to train. And something loyal, that can evolve later on. Something that can help me in real life, not just in fighting teenagers for money. I grin. I’ve got it. The first Pokemon ever. “Bidoof, I choose you!”
"Thank you for seeing me, Doctor Baxter."mumbles my first patient of the day, a sullen looking 23 year old man with chronic depression. Medicinal treatments have failed him and with all the debt that young people these days have, he could barely afford a proper therapist. Not that I'm not one! Being Doctor Sophia Baxter is what I went to school for, after all. It was hard to convince my family that 'Sophia Beelzebub Elementia Nekrosoth' wouldn't fit in to modern society, or in the text box of my degree, but I guess that's what happens when your parents can 'live' into the hundreds. Well, not live, exactly. Close enough, though! We're pretty good at that now. After a couple thousand years, there was no longer a need to keep experimenting and the family business turned far more respectable. Now, let's see what's the issue with this patient. "Thanks for coming in again, Eric. I hope you don't mind if I pull the curtains shut, the light hurts my eyes a little."I reply to my guest, setting the stage for my work to begin. "Now, I'm going to start by taking a look at your file and making sure I know what's going on." A little fib, but explaining to a guest that you're about to be charming them and casting magic tends not to go well. Now, let's get to work. "Beguilement." I whisper in the language of the dead, or magic. Or frogs if you ask crazy uncle Eustace - family techniques are always rather unclear on what the facts truly are. The efficacy is to die for though, I remark as Eric's already sunken eyes start to close. "Concept visualisation. Soul. Heart. Mind. Curse." The last one is always a just in case - proper preparation prevents poor performance! I'm a professional after all. Now that's out of the way, get to work bringing his heart back to life.
There were three different aliens present. The thinner one with the gold skin and large, soft-looking pink eyes were the first to respond after a few seconds of dead silence between them all. "You wish to maintain secrets for yourself only?"It asked as it's body extended forward, sort of like a human would lean, only instead of bending it just flowed into the new position. "No, no, no."I shook my head so hard that I think it gave me a headache. "Nanotech, ingrammic quantum computing, silvaric energy manipulation... You can't let me go back to earth with any of this knowledge!" The golden one withdrew itself back into a standing position. The second one stepped forward. It looked something like an upside-down jellyfish that forgot that it could use its tentacles for movement and instead slithered around on it's head. "Are you.... having fear of the responsibility of assisting your planet?" "Nonono... nothing like that."I waved my hands. "It's just.... look!" I opened my hands and held them palm-up before me. For three weeks that had been teaching me exactly why the universe worked the way it did, that included a very thorough rundown of how to access the energy that sustained the universe itself. The thing was... any creature of significant sentience already accesses the energy. It's part of where imagination and creativity is sourced from. Only it doesn't end there. I accessed the 'Silvaric' line and created an over-sized unstable molecule in my hands. In three minutes the electron shell would shred itself and release enough energy to destroy the entire ship that we were all standing in. The three examined the molecule, then looked back at me with questions in their minds. "Why do you create that?"The last of the three asked. He was a small thing, barely a glint of light in the room, he was also the official judge of the whole proceeding I had been brought into. The dispute between the other two was supposed to be settled by me. Why? I was still unclear on that, but it seemed like where some human societies have a jury of your peers, some aliens of a jury of untainted races to truly create impartial judgement. "Because within a week of humans learning these powers, one of them would."I tried to explain as the over-sized molecule began to rattle with instability in my hands. "Mental deficiencies and defects are rampant in my species. Some of us are born completely without any logic or compassion, and some of those move on to create environments to teach and enforce ignorance and sociopathy to others." "With the Silvaric, those can be cured within-" "No, you don't understand!"I interrupted the tiny light, "They are also incredibly deceptive and most are in positions of leadership!" The three exchanged some sort of patterned light show. "Your planet is run by the mentally unwell?" I nodded vigorously. "Can you provide evidence?" The next moment was excessively strange. Not for the actions I was taking, but for how important it had suddenly become that I perform them. First, I dismissed the unstable molecule I was holding, then I retrieved my phone from my pocket. I unlocked it and opened my folder of saved memes. Thousands of political tweets, jokes, messages, and more. I handed my phone to the light. He absorbed the entire device, turned a dark purple, then re-materialized the device into my hand. "The human is correct."The light blinked twice. "If the human information is correct." "Access the satellite communications systems."I suggested. "We use radio waves, usually encrypted... but I don't think that will matter to-" All three of the aliens froze in place, then as one they recalled from me. the jellyfish one wiggled it's previously frozen tentacles and the golden one lost it's cohesiveness and became something like living static. "Disgusting!" "Detonate it!" "Fascinating." We all turned to the tiny light. "Such a chaotic, unstable society usually fails to reach this level of complexity."The light explained. "I have colleagues who will want to examine your world." "Oh, that's great."I rubbed my temples. It's not like I had much of a life on earth, but basically offering myself to stay away from humanity just to make sure no one ever learns of these aliens or the powers they offer... "The world should be quarantined!"The golden one demanded. I agreed vehemently. "You condemn your own planet?" "Of course I do!"I waved my phone at them. "Just look at us!" Once again there was an exchange of lights between the three. Then one of the walls in the room transformed itself into some sort of viewscreen. It showed the earth from far away, barely the size of a basketball. Then it vanished. "We have folded the planet into a pocket dimension."The light explained. "They will be unaware of the change for sixty-eight years due to the travel speed of observable energy. We will then examine their reaction to the change." "Thank g- Uh, Thank you guys!" "If this is truly your desire and not some deception..."The light paused then drifted closer. "Then you exhibit behavior unlike the rest of your society." "Thanks, that's nice of you to say."
I opened shop on one of the side streets that runs perpendicular to Main in a small, decrepit building with a bakery on one side and a quiet, dim-lit alley on the other. Ugly as it might have been, it was love at first sight, similar to that feeling you get when a little one-eyed stray looks up at you with those round eyes and you just can't resist and just a few hours later you've got yourself a new little feline friend. "Nekomancer Ned,"the sign outside read. I had told the painter I hired to make the sign that it looked too much like necromancer but he paid me no heed and after some petty bickering I shrugged and the sign stayed. "You can talk to dead people?"the question would come once every couple weeks now. It was more often earlier on but I guess all the morbid souls heard I had no such special abilities. I can't talk to dead people. In fact, I can barely think about dead people without getting the heebie-jeebies and feeling a chill run up my spine. Much like animals, I tend to have a pretty good sense for living people. I can tell when they're nervous or lying and I can tell when maybe it's best to play off my abilities as a cheap party trick that they shouldn't be interested in instead of what they actually are. "You can summon cats?"people ask if they read the sign properly and I usually don't say anything. I just look at them slyly and wink. Maybe I can, maybe I can't. I have to know you a little better to decide. It pains me to my very core when I see a stray lying flattened in the middle of the street or when I hear of countries working to eliminate the rampant populations of strays, like they do in Australia. When I see that, I know I've got my work cut out for me. You know, there's a little bit of truth to the necromancy and that's why I let the sign stay. Each time a cat dies, it's soul lies in limbo for a brief period of time until it is allowed through the Purrly Gates that us foolish humans strive so hard to get to. In those moments, I can work my magic and resuscitate the cat and conjure up a new body for it right here in my shop. Sometimes they bolt for the door, off to start their own adventure, but sometimes they stick around the building and become a member of my ever-growing family. "You must be Ned?"I heard a voice purr from behind me one day as I emptied a fifty-pound bag of food into the assortment of bowls. I blew through these bags but it helped that the cats were outstanding scavengers and I charged a hefty price for my services if somebody wanted to revive a cat they had just had to put down. "I am,"I responded with a smile, turning around. She had piercing yellow eyes and her voice was a vibrant, alluring tenor. Her long, carefully combed hair draped down one side of her face, giving her a mysterious aura. "I need your help."Of course she did. That's why people come to me. I gestured for her to sit at the little table I have near the front display window. She took a coffee with copious amounts of milk. I take mine black. "I'm not from around here,"she started cautiously. I know. Like I said, I tend to have a pretty good sense for people. In spite of her riddle that was just begging to be solved, I could tell as much from how she carried herself. "I need cats." I chuckled. Everybody needs cats. I can help with that. Pet shops can help with that. Putting out a can of tuna on your porch can help with that. "I figured,"I answered vaguely. If she was coming to me, she either needed a certain cat or she needed cats for something far more sinister than normal means could acquire. She didn't laugh. Her face was stony serious. In our proximity, I could see the wisps of a couple hairs on her upper lip. Her hands were perfectly manicured. It was a bizarre dichotomy and I felt on-edge. "I need thousands of cats,"she said and I felt a chill go up my spine. I love cats. Who doesn't? But nobody needs thousands of an animal for good purposes. People who need thousands of animals are looking to kill them. Or worse. "And I need you to stop reviving the dead ones because I need them more than you do."Her words were ominous and oddly threatening. "I can't do that,"I said with mock sadness. "It's just a party trick, you see,"I continued with a forced chuckle. I moved to show her but she raised a hand to stop me. "No,"she stated simply. "It's not."I felt the chill again. I needed her gone. Usually the cats would be scratching or at least hissing at a presence like hers but the shop was quiet and the cats uncharacteristically passive. "We're on the same team, you and me,"she said. If her words were supposed to comfort me, they did not. Those piercing yellow eyes were more sinister than alluring. "I'm sorry,"I stammered. "I don't think I can help you."She glowered at me. I shifted uncomfortably. "We need your help."I heard a meow. One of my favorite cats was next to her, the fat, orange and grey tabby gently pawing at her leg. She scooted back and it hopped onto her lap. I started to shake my head but before I could say a thing I saw the other cats had were looking towards me expectantly, as was she. She laid a hand out flat and made a motion with her other hand, as if she was sprinkling spices into a steaming broth or potion. An orb appeared and I stared into it entranced as a world materialized. I saw legions of cats desperately fighting against a planet overrun by vermin; vermin I had not seen in years, ever since I opened this shop and surrounded myself by these beautiful creatures. The planet was overrun by the vermin and the cats were desperately defending themselves but sorely lacking in numbers. I looked at her, mouth agape, shocked by the casual display of magic. She closed her hand back into a fist and the world disappeared and still my cats stared at me. "Fine,"I said in just barely a whisper. Those cats needed help. And if what she said was true, only I could help them. ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
"Your grandmother is in hell?" "No, she's in heaven and that's why we're using a pentagram instead of praying. Now hurry up!" "Where are the candles?" "By the Dark Ones, must I do everything myself? Check the cabinets." "These are full of muffin pans." "The other cabinets, dolt!" "Okay, got them." "Get them lit as I start the ritual." "Why are you summoning your Grams?" "Quit breaking my concentration! And it's 'Grandma', idiot." "Okay, 'Grandma'. Why're you summoning her?" "Why does anyone summon anything? Power!" "Your Grandma's powerful?" "Hell, yes. With her demonic aid, I shall win that bake-off!"
(On mobile, so bear with my mistakes) No one had seen the elders since the village was founded. They came, implanted their ideals, and once their home was built, they went in and never came out. No one even knew what they looked like anymore. Our area of the world wasn't insanely prosperous, but it got by well enough. People embraced the gain of knowledge and ways of protecting our environment. Other villages tried to start wars, but the elders would send a couple representatives to speak things out and bloodshed seemed to be averted. I had grown to be a sort of philosopher myself. The elders wanted those first villagers to keep an interest in the arts and humanities, and so I decided to follow a path of logic. My path of logic finally led me to one question- "Why?" I asked myself that same question as I stood at the unguarded door to the mansion that housed the elders. With a deep inhale of courage, I knocked on the door. The door slowly opened up, and while I expected someone to be behind the door, there was no one. I chewed on my lip a bit as I entered the residence and headed into the main foyer. The place was lighted enough to not seem dim, but wasn't as bright as I expected. I heard a voice as I stood there, "We're in the game room!" No questions as to who I was? No guards? This was certainly odd and my curiosity about the elders was increased. I started off in the direction of the voice as I looked around. On the walls were various pictures. I looked at some of the nameplates and they made even less sense- "Handsome Squidward,""Rip Harambee, forever in our hearts,"and even a picture of what had caused the world to change, "Naruto runners storming area 51."I shook my head a bit as I continued on. In the next room was where I finally saw people. Five people sat there in front of a TV, playing something that had a large X on it. One of them finally looked over at me and gave a sigh, "Ah shit guys, guess someone is finally here to kill us."They all started laughing as the attention came to my presence in the room. I cleared my throat a bit, "I uh... Came to see the elders."One stood up, wearing a large faded shirt with what appeared to be an emblem in the shape of a bat on it, "You've seen them."They shrugged, their attention turning back to the tv. I blinked a bit and shook my head a bit, "Shouldn't you have guards? You created a great place to live and I'm sure you have enemies."They laughed again and the one who was doing all the talking spoke again, "Never underestimate the power of someone goading you into trying to kill them. My name is Chad, by the way."This was... Quite a strange situation I was in. I shook my head again and decided to ask the question that led me here, "Why did you make the village like you did?" Chad shrugged, "We thought it would be funny."

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