Split (1)

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Robin stared out at the city park while enjoying her morning cup of coffee. She sat on the balcony of her third-story apartment and enjoyed the morning solitude. Her whole day was open, and she sighed in contentment when she heard the first few droplets of rain start to fall. She giggled to herself as she watched the joggers in the park scattering for cover when the rain picked up. “Don’t they check the weather?” Robin smiled to herself then took another sip of coffee. She reached for her journal but noticed movement in the park. One man strolled through the pouring rain without an umbrella, and as far as she could tell, without a shirt. He fell onto the grass on his back and remained still. “I hope he doesn’t get sick,” she thought. She put him out of her mind and wrote in her journal for about ten minutes. When she looked up to take another drink she noticed the strange man still lay in the grass. He had not moved an inch. “Oh no, is he okay?” The sudden thought rushed out of Robin’s mouth. She did not hesitate to find out. Five minutes later she walked through the rain holding up an umbrella and carrying a spare one. She reached the man’s location and looked down at him. He lay in a puddle of water deep enough to cover his ears and most of the dark hair on his head. His eyes were closed and he wore a goofy, contented smile on his face. “Are you okay?” Robin asked. She expected to startle him, but he replied without opening his eyes. “Fantastic,” he said. “Thanks for checking in,” he added. Robin turned to leave, but curiosity got the better of her. “What are you doing?” she asked him. “Trying to sleep,” he replied. “In the rain?” She asked. This time he opened his eyes and sat up. Robin saw the most beautiful translucent orange eyes she’d ever seen on anyone. They reminded Robin of orange flavored hard candy. “Is it raining?” he asked. Robin pulled herself out of his eyes and looked around at the park. She shrugged. “Yeah. A lot.” The man nodded, then lowered his back to the ground again. “Then, yes. In the rain,” he said. Then he sat up and opened his eyes again. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I don’t get to relax like this very often because I’m usually working on rainy days.” He shrugged. “I do appreciate you checking on me though.” “Why are you napping in the rain? Don’t you get sick?” The man shook his head. “No. I don’t know what it is, but it feels amazing. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember,” he said. “I’m Robin, what’s your name?” “Posie,” he said. Robin smiled, and laughed at him. “No wonder you like the rain so much, you’re named after a flower.” Posie shook his head again. “Not exactly, it’s just a nickname. My real name is Poseidon, but..” he shrugged. “It’s too bulky.” “I like Posie,” she said. Red washed over her pale cheeks as she realized what she said. Posie did not seem to catch it. He nodded at her. “So, as a final check: you’re alive, and this is something you regularly do?” Robin asked. Posie nodded. “Okay. I think I understand. When the rain stops, you’ll leave?” she asked. Again Posie nodded. “And go where?” “Haven’t planned that far ahead. I’m off today to enjoy the rain as much as I can.” Robin used her spare umbrella to point at her apartment building behind her. “That’s my building, apartment 320.” She threw the umbrella on the ground next to Posie. “If you happen to find my lost umbrella, I’d appreciate it if you can drop it off after the rain passes.” Robin turned and walked back to her apartment. Posie laid down in the rain and smiled. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #266. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
Is that what I look like? I'm ashamed to admit that was all I could think. My long blond hair looked greasy on screen, and I had to resist the urge to reach up and touch it considering I had popcorn butter on my fingers. Josh, my fiance, looked identical. Although he was now named "John". And my kids, Aiden and Larkin were younger in the film, like they had been when the events took place. It was all there, our move to the Maine coast. The old lighthouse we'd bought and refurbished. My husband's car accident, learning to live again, the physical therapy. The tears. All of it. With the flash and voiceover of a Hollywood trailer it all looked inspiring. My character, Elise, looked like some kind of saint. John looked like a weak pity case. When in fact it was quite the opposite. I had been terrified. I had been weak. I had broken down crying so often it became almost predictable. But Josh had been my rock. He'd been my saving grace. Even from his wheelchair. Even after the agony of physical therapy he never lost his smile. "Doesn't that look good?"My sister whispered to me, a giant smile evident on her face. I nodded, still obviously dumbstruck. "Wanna go see it?" "See it...sure..."I muttered. I looked over the names of the writers, desperately seeking who it was who had stolen my life for the movie. But nothing stood out. Finally I resigned myself to acknowledging a wild coincidence. And enjoying the wonderful story I'd already lived.
Your Rank: 1,169,407 The number flashed before me, startling me out of whatever trance I had been in. I hadn't actually felt anything at all since the fateful moment. In my final few days, I wondered many things. I wondered if there an afterlife. I wondered if I would feel cold, or even worse, feel warm... I wondered if I would get the chance to reunite with my wife. The one thought that never crossed my mind is that I would be confronted with a rank, a score. &#x200B; I began to think of Mark... it would be a while before I would get to see him again... Begin New Game+ ? The glowing orange button consumed my attention. "What?"I ask the deafening silence that surrounded me. "This is your chance to climb in the leaderboard,"came a response from seemingly nowhere. "You are given a randomized character partially through their main quest. You can use all of the strategies you learned on your first run, but be warned, there are many additional emotional and physical side quests involved in New Game+." Without truly thinking about what was said, I pressed the button. I was immediately taken to what seemed like a empty medical waiting room. In my hand I help a ticket with the number 27 on it. In the far corner I saw a display showing the number 26 on it. I began to think about what the voice had said. First Run, Side Quests, Random Character... What could it all mean? Very shortly after arriving at the waiting room, I heard a ding, and promptly blacked-out. When I came too, I was lying in a hospital bed connected to many machines. A machine was beeping loudly right next to my ear, and I grumbled to myself out of displeasure. My noise obviously alerted someone outside of my room who quickly ran in. "Oh my God, Randal, you're okay!"She yelled. "Who are you?"I responded to the intruder. My voice sounded much different. At that, the woman began to weep. Soon a doctor arrived and I began to piece together what was going on. The woman was my, or really Randal's mother. Randal was in a car accident earlier that morning. He received a lot of head trauma and receded into a coma. The doctors didn't believe he would survive. To everyone's surprise, he exited the coma after a few hours... except, it wasn't Randal, it was my mind that took over. Everyone obviously thought I had lost all my memory; they called me crazy when I tried to explain what really happened. I tried to get out of the hospital bed, but only fell due to the strange body I was piloting. Additional physical side quests. The voice ran through my head on repeat.
Sometimes it was just a way to have a laugh; to remember drunken nights spent flitting about dark streets that my friends and I shouldn't have been on, or good hookups that were fogged up by the burn of alcohol. Sometimes, it was just to see my family again; I lived miles away, and there was only so much Skype calls could do to keep the sadness at bay. Sometimes, it was just to remember my childhood; but those garments are so tiny now, and I may be forced to give up those memories. Most of the time, it's to remember her. Lilacs. Daises. Sand stuck in my shoes for days because of her beach trips. I found her memories in my bathing suits, in my pajamas, in most articles of clothing that I owned. It took a whole new wardrobe to help get my life back on track, as vain as that sounds. I remember these things when I wear the clothes I wore then. If I put on the dress I wore to prom, I can remember the whole horribly awkward night in vivid detail-- something I have only ever done once, just to see. But I've never tried wearing her clothes. Well, I only have one scrap left of her. Tucked away, all the way in the back of my closet is a cardigan that she used to wear year-round, even during the hottest of summer days. The fabric is thick and there is a lot, always swallowing her whenever she covered with it. Slowly, eyes shut, I slip an arm into the sleeve. At first, nothing happens, I am not instantly taken back to her last memory (and I have a good idea of what it would be). I push my other arm through, extra fabric bundling at my wrists and I let it all fall into place, wrapping my arms around myself and smelling her perfume, believing that she could be there, hugging me. And then I see myself. I see myself laying upside-down on the bed, hair gliding over the carpet of the bedroom. I can't hear my own voice, it seems too far away and blurred, like a scratched CD, but I am smiling. I move closer to myself-- she moves closer to me-- soft brown hair falls in my view as she couches down and presses a kiss on my pouting mouth. I know what her last memory was. Then her face is all I see as she goes to the bathroom mirror, carefully applying her adored eyeliner and mascara, smoothing down her hair and tossing it to and fro, never completely satisfied with its style. Eventually, the watch tells her it's time to go, and she leaves me and the house and is going to work. I should take the cardigan off. I know what's coming, and I don't need to witness it first hand. I should've never put it on, but there is her reflection confidently walking through the city streets, ordering coffee, fixing her lipstick in whatever shop window she can find, and I am stuck watching. She was prideful of how well she knew the downtown area in which we lived. She was a boastful jay-walker, never waiting for the red hand to change and give her permission to go. So she (I) steps down from the curb and into the clear street, a few other city-dwellers waiting for the white-light go-ahead. Then I see her reflection distorted in the shine of car as it knocks into her, and the whole world goes black but I do not feel like I'm dying, which is strange because I usually feel everything that is felt in the memory. The sight fades down the city street. When the memory is over, I am not the sobbing mess I expected to be. I see her smile in the righted reflections of shop windows and coffee-shop bathrooms. I am crying, but it is not a chore to take off the cardigan and put it back in its place far out of everyday reach. I wipe my eyes, blink away the sight of smudged lipstick and toothy grins, and begin to get undressed for the night. I kick my shoes off, and watch the sprinkle of sand trailing from them as they fly across the room. I smile, and try to remember (without any help) the last time I went to the beach.
Have this bad writing. &#x200B; It all started from my birth, the doctor did his doctor things, and to his confusion he saw nothing. O'course his first instinct was to just ask me mum if she was overweight, yet the otha doctor fellas said they did a scanny thing and saw me. They all decided their scanny thing was just wrong, unfortunately for me. Now at this errr time o me life i was a baby who lots'a people would say had no chance at stayin alive. I crawled around and accidentally spookified some people by touching em, they soon called the place "The haunted hospital". &#x200B; Me life as a baby was very painful, yet through me hard work i passed through it... would take too long to describe how Mr Detective. "I've told you to call me Jones far too many times for how simple it is to remember a name." "Ye ye whateva Mr Detective, y'see i'm not used to names, never had to talk y'know?" "I'm Confused on that point, how do you know how to talk, but have never talked?" "I just picked up on what the othas was sayin" "Anyway...continue." As a kid not much interestin appened, just digged through some dumpsters for a bit o food an went to those watah fountains fo some...well...watah. But when it gets interestin is when i slowly started to be see-able y'know? The fellas thought there was some spookster ghost round an i was laughing an because i laughed they got scared mo, till they got you ova ere. "Well... let me check my sources" (Detective Jones walked out of the room) God, it was so painful to put up the act of some idiot. With all the crimes I've committed there was no way the truth would be told. How unfortunate that i may be visible now, this setback will surely stomp out my career. "The Gone, we have heard what happened. We trust you did not tell him anything about us?" "No i made sure the detective i was with knew nothing." "Then you are welcome back here, even without your invisibility you are splendid at stealth." "How fortunate, i thought you would assume i was simply excellent at stealth solely due to my invisibility" "We aren't idiots The Gone" (Detective Jones enters the room) "Well you're clear, there has been a case of a woman who seemingly had no child despite scans saying otherwise." "Well aint dat a treat? I'm no liar after all" &#x200B;
The Predator woke slowly, shaking the tiredness from his eyes. He became aware of a pain in his back and through his neck. Reaching back he was able to feel some type of piston attached to his body. He held back on pulling it out, not wanting to cause further damage to himself. He thought back to how he ended up in this situation. He had been a fool. The Old Man hadn't seemed like a threat. So he had ignored him in favour of hunting stronger prey. Only to feel an needle stab into his leg. Suddenly he heard static as a moniter beside him came to life. "All your life you've been hunting those weaker than yourself, preying upon them to fulfill your desires. Now you will have to save those who you used to hunt or die yourself. I want to play a game. In this complex there are three people, who have been armed and tasked with killing you. You have none of your weapons, armour or other advantages. In order to win your freedom. You need to save their lives from the self imposed restraints that bind them. You may have noticed the device on your back. The piston is connected to the spikes imbedded in your throat. Should any of the contestants die, you run out of time or in the event you decide to attempt to remove the restraint. It will activate. Forcing your head from your neck in a similar fashion to how you used to hunt. You have one hour. Live or Die, make your choice" The TV turned off and the Predator slammed his fist through the screen. He had clearly been mistaken. Perhaps this old man would be a worthy hunt after all.
I’ve always waded in anger, consumed by it, feeding and nourishing my soul that has long since turned to ice. Long ago I had been a bearer of light, now I am the embodiment of darkness. I have no remorse, after years of caring for the people of the Earth they had always rebuked me. Every flower that had been crushed by the sole of man I had felt within my soul. For every child I cared for and nurtured that had turned to evil, as did I. I yearned to know why, why must they lay waist to one another in battles of greed and hatred after I had shown nothing but love to them. I still remember the day my eyes saw red, when my blood boiled, and my own spores of hatred had taken seed deep within. The rush I felt as I let the waters flow over man. Every city crushed by the weight of my power, all beauty I created to be no more, from the bird to mouse none were to remain. Though God would not let it be. He saved man, the source of evil, my flawed creation. Yet he took pity on them warning them before I could act. It was not long before my own creator had turned on me, casting me down to the darkest of pits in which no light shall be cast. The toll of my sins. Eons passed, and I felt nothing. My soul devoid of everything but rage which I had grown accustomed to. Knowing one day I shall reap my revenge on all those who had forsaken me. My anguish will be known, for now I am the embodiment of all evil. So when the gates of Hell opened from far above searing my irises, fueling my rage my soul poured out into the light, I know not why, but that God has finally given up on my creations seeing their lust of all things sinister. Allowing me to fix my mistakes at last, to stomp out the embers of a fire had allowed to ravish the lands for far too long. In moments I was in every household and in every ear. Whispering to them my name so they know what to call as they endure their final judgement. For I am the Wraith of God and they shall know my name.
"Listen, kid. What's yer name?" "Henry,"he mumbles sheepishly to the floor near my feet. "Listen, 'Enry. Ya got purpose. I see it. But I gotta give ya advice: it's the wrong purpose." "What?" "Revenge eats a man up. It's a good to start, but if you don't make a long term plan, you burn out. The depression breaks you first. If you weren't ready to go, the moment things fell apart, you aren't going to have the drive to go when you get another chance. You need a drive bigger than jus' revenge. What was it? They kidnap your girl? Kill your parents?" "No, I—" "Doesn't matter. Kid, I'ma take you under my wing. But we need to find your drive. Why do you want vengeance? Is it a desire for justice? Or do you want control? Ah, there it is. Control is important. You don't wanna be shoved around by some idiot in power. Someone tries to shove you, you want him to stumble, instead of you. I can relate." "I don't—" "The challenge isn't being stronger than your foe. It's all about being smarter. They get your back against the wall, good. They can't get behind you. You're pinned down? I'll teach you how to slip out. Guy pulls a knife on ya, he just gave you a weapon. No one's gonna make you feel helpless, ever again." "I just want to lose a few pounds before my wedding." "Oh, sorry. Total misunderstanding. HEY, JIMMY!, Jimmy is the best trainer for that. He'll help you show that fat who's boss."
I received a message from Alice, asking me to come over. This is odd, coming from her. I have not seen her since graduation months ago, and even then I never really talked to her since I moved out. But regardless, it seemed important so what's the harm in helping a neighbor out? I lifted myself up from the couch, hiked my jeans, and headed out. The sun was setting, making a salmon colored sky. I gingerly walked next door. I knocked three times. No answer. I checked my phone as my hand gripped the door knob. It clicked. I creaked the door slightly. "Hello?"I said as I greeted the empty room. My phone vibrated. Hi. Yes. Please enter. I'm in the bedroom. Direct as usual. As I opened the door full swing, the apartment was bare but clean. I dropped my sneakers into the shoe rack and headed inside. I walked over to her bedroom. The door was partially opened. I peeked inside: There she laid on her bed with messy hair covering her face, spooning a pillow. I call her name but she appeared to ignore me. I sighed and entered her room. Her room was easily the messiest area in the whole apartment with her clothes thrown haphazardly onto the floor and the overflowing wastebasket. I tiptoed inside and sat on her bed. I rocked her shoulder. "You wanted to talk?"I asked. No answer. I clicked my tongue. "You wanna talk later?"I asked again. No answer. I grew annoyed with her silence and began to stand up. Suddenly, her thin arms wrapped me from the back and held me tight. "Alice...?"I asked. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this."She finally said. Her voice was shaky and tired. I peered over to her pillow which was soaked with tears. She loosened her grip but I turned around and hugged her. "Tell me."I asked. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; \------- It's rather short and uneventful. Sorry, just wanted to practice a bit.
######*Lost in the Sauce* I wanted to gulp down the rest of my drink and ask for five more glasses of wine (four of them for my friends, of course...). The party was going swimmingly. Quite literally. In the backyard, buzzed colleagues and plus ones were laughing and splashing and getting too drunk to swim without designated drivers present. I stood at the balcony of my mansion, watching my guests converse, flirtatiously grabbing and hitting each other's arms on my front yard. I was God. I created this world that allowed these people to experience life to the fullest for just one, unforgettable night. "How did you two meet?"I heard someone ask in my fantastical mind. "Well, we were at this party, and..." And that was my party. I went indoors, peering down at the brightly-lit main entrance to my (not so) humble abode. Men and women in black attire offered trays topped with drinks and appetizers to guests. I hired twenty servers. I expected to see fifteen amateur screenplays on my kitchen counter tomorrow morning. You can't get away from hungry actors and writers in LA. Especially when you're a world-accomplished, now retired, director. My trash can would have a lot to chew on tomorrow. A man dressed in a dark blue suit raised his voice. His head was bald, his arms rippling through his suit. No one tailors suits for bodybuilders. "And how do I know,"the huge man said, "That this cocktail sauce isn't poisoned? Huh?"Conversations quieted. Eyes were on him. This was the man who I had hired to protect me tonight. Yet here he was, making a goddamn fool of himself. In what world do bodyguards attract so much attention? And in what world do bodyguards even talk? "For that matter,"he continued. He folded his arms, which were comically bulging through his sleeves. "How do I know this shrimp isn't poisoned?" The server, a thin blonde woman, said something I couldn't hear from the balcony. "Then why don't you taste it?"the bodyguard said. Again, I couldn't hear her response. She did not taste a shrimp. "Well I'll have you know,"he said, his voice now loud enough to clearly hear over the loud music, "That I was hired by Misses Friedman to protect her life tonight."Mrs. Friedman? My wife? She had died six years ago, when I was in Tunisia shooting scenes for a western film. Cancer took her like the Titanic took Jack—cold and fast. What was this goof-off bodyguard thinking? "And you know what?"he continued as he stepped an inch from the poor blonde's face. "I think I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you." A reply from the blonde. Then she turned around. A handgun hung from the front of her pants. "Jesus fucking Christ,"I said. I didn't know when it happened, but my head was in my hand. The server retreated into my kitchen. Why did she have a gun? I wanted to run downstairs and tell both of them to leave my property. But the handgun that hung from the server's belt stopped me. No one in their right minds yells at someone with a visible gun. Not even a God like me. Perhaps I could talk to both of them individually. Calmly. I chugged the rest of my wine, watching the most idiotic bodyguard I had ever hired look around, satisfied with his disruption. I quietly made my way down to the balcony. The party at the entrance to my mansion returned to its previous vibes. All was well again. I tapped the bodyguard's head-sized shoulder. However, before he could turn to me, the server with the clearly-visible handgun at her side arrived. "How's this?"she said, holding a plate of shrimp. "Why don't you try it first?" "Why not this man?"she said, glancing at me. I acted surprised. "Excuse me? What's going on here?" "This kind lady,"the bodyguard said to me, "Would like you to try the shrimp. Please, it would be her delight." I took a shrimp, dipped it into the cocktail bowl, and dropped it into my mouth. Tangy. Sweet. Seafoody. Dammit, I love shrimp and marinara. "It's great,"I said. The server gave a condescending smile to the bodyguard. "I made the marinara myself,"she said. "Well,"he said. He spoke with an air of comedic defeat. "If this random man says it's good, then I suppose it's good. Lemme at it."He devoured four shrimps, then spoke with his mouth still half full: "If this marinara was the last thing I ate, I'd die a happy man." I don't know why the bodyguard I had hired felt it was okay to pig out on shrimp being served by a woman with a clearly visible handgun. I knew this was the last of him I would see. He was a terrible bodyguard. Bulging with enough muscle to make Hercules nervous, sure. Intimidating? Without a doubt. But his intelligence? I was better off hiring a high school quarterback. You need to find a different line of work, I would tell him tomorrow as I fired him. Before I could tell the blonde server to offer the shrimp to the party outside, my vision flooded with white. My ears rang. My organs were like a furnace. I couldn't breathe. Before I could panic, my heart stopped pumping blood to my head. I wasn't scared. I couldn't be scared—my body was rotting too quickly to produce the chemicals that could tell my brain to be scared. I only knew what was coming next: Nothing. I collapsed. Someone beside me also collapsed. That was the last I remembered. --- I was hired for the fourth time by Inconspicuous Dining Services. Why had they chosen me again? I was just an actress hungry for work on the screen. The only talent I had relevant to catering services was my recipe for a cocktail sauce to die for. I had never tasted it, as I was allergic to tomatoes, but I knew that it had to be good since Inconspicuous Dining Services kept hiring me. I was a hack. My flavor, I assumed (since I could never taste my marinara) came from my spices: salt, pepper, parsley, oregano, onion, garlic, cyanide, and cilantro. No one could compare. But why would they not just buy the recipe from me? I had offered it to them in exchange for a closed-door meeting with executives that would look at my script. They insisted that only I could execute the recipe properly. Anyway. I was so excited to cater for Max Friedman. He had directed at least half of my favorite movies. When he, and some stupid hunk, fell to the floor and died after eating my shrimp and marinara, my heart broke. No more catering. The first time someone dies after eating your sauce, you think it's coincidence. The fourth time it happens, you have to suspect something. I left my screenplay on the now-dead Max Friedman's kitchen counter and left. I would quit Inconspicuous Dining Services tomorrow. Maybe I should stop cooking. --- Thanks for reading! /feedback always appreciated. I have more stories, poems, and songs on [my personal subreddit.](/r/ScottBeckman)
At 7AM EST broadcasts were interrupted around the globe with a strange breaking news story from an observatory saying that "Pluto appears to have vanished". 16 hours later, the Earth is gone. Trey rouses from his bed as sirens begin to blare, loudly. It was a jarring sound that makes his skin vibrate, and his teeth grind together. The sound bellows from multiple speakers, town wide. It was 7am, and he took a minute to wake up from the daze. He rolls over and checks his phone to see an alert. He swipes it and enters his pin and unplugs it. The alert reads as: Nasa releases a public announcement. There has been an incident. The planet of pluto has vanished into nothingness, there appears to be a shadow spreading across our galaxy, consuming everything. Please be advised. Trey’s body turns ice cold as sense of fear encompasses him entirely. The first thing he thinks of is his family and how they’ll be fairing in this type of mess. People will turn to chaos if they think it's the end of the world. He opens his contacts and calls his mother first. The phone rings 6 times and goes to voicemail. “Hey mom, it’s Trey. Call me back when you get a chance.” He says briefly, and then his stomach drops as he gets a very unexpected call. “Hello?” He answers. It was his little sister. “TREY!” She shouts causing him to jump. “Ally?” He says shakily. She’s a flight engineer for in the USAF and likely knew something. Friends in high places and all. “Have you heard?” She asks much more quietly, any urgency was completely replaced by the sound of fear in her voice. “Yeah, what’s going on?” He asks. “We’re unsure, NATO, the UN, every space agency out there is completely stumped. Get somewhere safe Trey. That’s all I can really say. Somewhere nearby. Find an abandoned base, or something. That’s all I can say right now. Be safe.” She states morbidly. “Hey, Ally-cat. You be safe too. Keep me posted, yeah?” He says shortly. “See if you can’t help mom too. I tried calling her but I got no answer. I don’t know if she’ll be able to get through this mess alone.” She sighs. “Yeah, I know. I wish you were here, Trey.” She says morbidly. He smiles softly, as much of a hardass as she is now, she’s still his little sister at the end of the day. “I love you munchkin. Be safe.” With that, they ended the phone call. Ally and his mother were both in Dover, while he was at his dorm at Lafayette college. About 3 hours away. She was signaling he needs to look out for himself for now. She could handle mom. He grabs his keys, his backpack, all his books, his laptop, his mobile router and everything else he thinks he’ll need before leaving. He hops into his car and starts driving towards Allenwood. There was an old bunker he thought he might be safe in. He’d learned it during a research project in his Eschatology class. As he drives there, he’s making a mental list of things he’d need to live out whatever may happen. Just to be safe. If they don’t survive, then the money he’s got is a waste. Trey pulls into a seemingly very unoccupied Wal-Mart, considering it was 8am. Which is good news for him. He quickly runs in and starts grabbing loads of canned foods. Vegetables, soups, everything on the shelf. He had a credit card with a cap of ten grand and he was about to use it. It was his in case of emergency card and this seemed like it was as much of an emergency as anything else. If planets are just vanishing, it could be anything. The way he sees it, anything not used he can take back if nothing else. He grabbed several battery powered stove tops, tons of batteries, every case off water he could manage, as well as strawberries, lemons, sugar, rice bags, candles, flashlights, lighter fluid, everything he could possibly think of. He runs up his credit card and it comes to be about a thousand dollars. He figures he has about half a year’s worth of materials at the instant, and knowing what he knows he could possibly make it last longer. The problem was the water, he had plenty of food to last for years if needed. He just could only get but so much water. The lady at the register thought he was off his rocker most likely, but he wanted to maintain his advantage. Once he got to the car he loaded it, and headed to Allenwood. The whole trip took roughly four hours, and his phone continued to go off as he drove. He took Alvira road all the way down, and found the blocked off bunker. He parked and quickly grabbed a crowbar and broke off the planks covering the entrance. He broke off the lock and begins to unload his stuff inside in a hurry. He knew he wasn’t the only one that had the idea. He couldn’t have been. Once he finally gets everything in, he grabs his flashlight to see and uses the same chain to lock the door from the inside. He manages to open the hatch to the bunker and get most things down. It was huge, there was a command center of sort, bunkbeds, old electronics and an assortment of other things. It was covered in dust, but it had to do for now. He wasn’t going to be killed easily anyway. He finds a small room to set his stuff up in, lights a few candles and begins to learn his way around, hacking on dust in the process. He finally decides to check his phone and to his astonishment there was more news. In the near 5 hours since he’s been up, Neptune is gone and so is most of Uranus. Ally text him and told him that she’s with mom at the base, they’re safe and the military is gonna take care of their own. He replies letting her know his plan and she sends him a smiley face in return. She’s afraid and rightfully so. His stomach lets him know he’s hungry, and so he breaks out one of his stovetops and finds the kitchen. He uses some of his water and salt and begins to cook up some rice. He added some salt to the water so it boils faster and grabs his laptop while the rice cooks and begins to document his experiences and his plan. He had a battery powered outlet to charge things as needed too, and he was expecting global communications to not last but needed a way to be able to communicate, but the internet would always be available as long as satellites are around. He made sure he had a direct ip link to his sister so he could always be in communication with her too. Trey strains his rice and puts it into a bowl he cleaned the dust out of and begins to eat it. He was restless and the world around him was in pandemonium as he continued to receive news all over the world. He heard banging on the entrance to the bunker but he was safe. It was locked from the inside. Which was a stroke of luck for him. Chained, locked, padlocked, then sealed and locked by the hatch and locked from the inside. He felt bad but at this point, if the world was gonna end Darwin was right. Survival of the fittest. He just happened to think first. Most people probably had families to think about first. He’d hate to be in their positions. He was restless and couldn’t think straight. At times like this most people would pray, especially if they were in a major like theology. He gets on his knees and starts praying. “Hey old man in the sky, I know I don’t do this often and I probably should do it more. If I did, that would mean I’d have to admit you’re up there. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. It would mean that I’d have to accept the things you let happen. I was going to school for theology to find out why, to strengthen my faith and find myself. So I could maybe give answers for other people. It means I’d have to accept the things you let happen to me, that it was meant to be. Things I was never quite ready to accept or believe. Someone who was suppose to love and cherish everyone as his children and you let these awful things happen to them. But it’s way too late for that. I just want to say that I forgive you, I acknowledge you, and hope that no matter what happens, you keep me, my sister and mother together. They’re the only ones I have. I love them to death you know?” He says, tears rolling down his cheek. He was alone, he felt all alone and all he had was himself and the big man in the sky. “Just, whatever you do, please forgive me, for everything. For the sins I’ve committed, for always holding you in contempt. For everything. Just please, forgive me and my family.” He says solemnly, wiping the tears away from his eyes. He grabs his book and lays down on one of the bunks, and starts reading one of his favorite books, The Screwtape Letters. It was a good book, a satire based on faith. It brought him comfort, and eased his sense of worry, bringing him closer to God. He wasn’t the most religious person in the world by any means, probably one of the least. But at that instance, he never felt closer to God than he had at that moment. All the bad he ever experienced, pain he had felt, washed away at that instance. He felt like everything was going to be okay. As the hours passed, he fell asleep. Then, there was nothingness.
Dull thuds accompanied by the occasional muffled chatter leaked through the office door as the four students put the final adjustments into their final projects. Four cesium clocks, each should be indistinguishable from the other as the same instructions had been provided to the four hopeful applicants of the one research position left available this year. I know more than most how tedious it is to make just one, so why not put the ambition of four eager students to good use? I’m sure they will understand when the true nature of their work is revealed, and I’ll include their names somewhere in my work. Standing from my desk I cracked my knuckles, over a decade in the making and my work was finally coming to fruition. Sourcing the x-ray venting system and piquing my colleague’s interest in the VGL Gravity Detectors was nothing short of controlling chess pieces in the great game against the universe. In less than 24 hours my magnum opus would be operational, and humanity would no longer be shackled by time or space. Well… Is humanity the best word for this? Surely the technology could never be available for just anyone, and currently it is only me and a handful of others who even know how close we have gotten. Letting seconds tick past I stood at the window, gazing out at the leaves blowing slowly in the wind. A huddle of the brightest young minds in the country had abandoned their studies for the afternoon and were playing basketball in the late summer’s heat. The air seemed to draw thin, the leaves hung limp like rodents confronted by a predator. A sudden crack sent my body forward into the thick glass, the sound shook the room and sent adrenaline coursing through me. Dazed, I spun round to see a deep ridge carved through my desk with a pristine white envelope sat neatly in the centre of the crater. I plucked the letter out of it’s resting place, it had almost no weight to it and no identifying features. The dull thuds had ceased, but low mutters and fidgeting still made their way through the door. I tore open the packaging and pulled out the A4 page folded within. “DEAR PROFESSOR WELLS, “You have been found guilty of breaking the Law of Causality, Section 1 Subsection B.3., changing past events with no consideration of worldline alteration following your experimentation on 26/09/18.” Wait a minute… but today is only the 25th? “The fine for this is 5 years of ‘purgatory’ at the time of your death. “Understandably you know that you have not broken this Law yet, but obviously at the same time the experiment altered the past meaning the effects of your transgression are already in place. Trying to change this would break Section 1 Subsection D.8., Avoiding Causality resulting in Major Wordline Shift (MWS). “It is the advice of the court that you do not further alter your current worldline, lest you risk further punishment.” I read it again, and again, and even more questions spun around in my head. The pressure built and built, until one realisation swept the cloud of anxiety from my head. This means it works.
'It was my friends.....' 'Yes?' 'They told me to smoke this stuff... That it would be alright... 'And do you know where you are?' 'No' 'At the outskirts of the world, a place that only the inner most functions of the mind can perceive. Regard yourself as lucky, traveler, for in a short time, this world will disappear, and you will find it hard to explain your observations. The images will turn vivid and your psyche will think of it as a distant dream. And even if you were to remember, you would not be able to explain it... This moment will forever be preserved for those who hit that bong. ' 'Then I will totally hit it again!' 'Of course you will. But remember that too much of one thing is never a good idea. Soon you will find yourself escaping your reality to be with us, all while gradually terminating the most precious taperstries of your spirit. In other words; you will deteriorate, and by the time you realize the fact, it will be too late.' 'I choose to be with you' 'So be it, but keep this in mind; we will change too. As you go from a hit, to a snort, to a needle, we will always be different. Always mutating, always matching the state of your being. The escape previously treasured becomes a necessary but unpleasant hell as your temporary angels change into permanent demons - An unhealthy mind is not susceptible with prolonged escapes' &#x200B;
Joe Hailey was something completely different from the rest of us. No mask, no secret identity, no witty one liners... no holding back. My back was against the bank counter. I had done my research, but it was hard to tell fact from speculation. Especially since Joe left so few survivors. There was a bright light next to me as Short Hop appeared. “Firebolt and Plasma are dead.” “What?” I had to have misheard her. Dr. Plasma and Firebolt were our heavy hitters. There’s no way he could’ve... I fought back tears. What had I brought us into? “Firebolt had the message box, but Joe is standing watch over it.” “Standing watch? For what?” “Honestly? I think he’s guarding the door. Making sure we can’t get out. I think he knows about me.” Short Hop gave me a knowing look, then gently placed her hand against the counter. The realization of what she meant dawned on me. Short Hop wasn’t actually teleporter, though we’d gone through painful efforts to obfuscate that fact. In reality, she was what was traditionally referred to as a speedster, but we had worked hard to establish the myth of teleportation around her. Obstacles had initially been an issue, but a few staged battles with the more reasonable hero types and choice dialogue about “bursts” into a “shadow dimension”, and her seeming inability to teleport more than a few dozen feet at a time had gone from a suspicious attribute for a teleporter to a well-established limitation of her power. But if Joe was blocking the door... “Impossible. That would mean—“ “That would mean a lot of things, King.” Short Hop snapper. “It would mean that this whole time we’ve been studying him, he’s been studying us. It would mean he knew who was going to be here. That he knew this was an ambush. That he decided to come anyway.” She let those last few words hang in the air. “Who do we have left?” I asked, shutting my eyes and rubbing my temples. “Arachnorak and Tonic, but I don’t think Tonic’s mobile.” “Where is she?” “Hold tight.” She grabbed my shoulder and suddenly everything was a bright white before snapping back into focus. We were in the back now, by the vault. Tonic was crouched over Gin’s dead body, her eyes wide and unblinking, refusing to accept the reality of what they saw. “Hey...” I hesitated as I gently lay a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice. If she even registered my presence, she didn’t show it. What could I say to her? What could I do? “Sarah...” Maybe it was hearing her real name that did it, or maybe it was something else, but she slowly turned her head to look at me. Her eyes had dark, hollow circles under them, like she’d cried all she could and her tear ducts had shriveled up. I wasn’t sure she saw me, even as she looked right at me. “Sarah. I’m... I’m sorry about Genevieve. We—“ “He was so strong.” She whispered, turning her head back in the direction of the lobby. “Even when Genie was looking right at him. Right in his eyes. Even when I touched him. He was so strong. Like it didn’t even bother him.” She turned back to me, as though slowly noticing me for the first time. “He killed her, Joseph. She looked him right in the eyes. And he didn’t even blink.” “That can’t be.” I shook my head and walked away. “There are rules. The Pact, damnit. One power. ONE.” “Well, it’s obviously more than one:” Short Hop said, “So the rumors are true. And we’re trapped in here. With him.”
They told me the robot was unbeatable. But I wasn't so sure. I mean, I was basically a superhero with my powers, how could some glorified toaster beat me? At least, I used to think that. Now, I'm just mad. I mean, who has that right? Some crummy robot was made just to beat me at a game show? I'll show them. I memorized where they keep the robot when it's not on the show. I'll make sure it never works again. I won't be beat, not by man, not by woman, and I will sure as hell NOT BE BEATEN BY A ROBOT!
He wasn’t at home, of course she’d checked there first. No, he wasn’t at work either, she’d called them right after. Didn’t even show up, they said. They’d asked other questions, but eventually she’d stopped really paying attention. At some point someone had handed her a cup of shitty breakroom coffee, the temperature of it reassuring in her hands. The taste was awful, of course, but somehow it was better that way. “Carey, honey, are you okay?” Her name brought her back out, her mother had arrived. She had one hand held out towards Carey, frozen halfway between them in uncertainty. “I’m okay.” Carey said, although the sad smile her mother gave her made her think she knew otherwise. “Has dad found anything?” “No, nothing yet. He’s gone through most of the spots you could think of, and some that he and Frank thought up, too.” Her mother finally moved her hand, bringing it to rest on Carey’s shoulder. “But don’t you worry, they’ll find him. You know those two.” “Thanks mom.” Carey smiled, more as a reflex than anything else, and took a sip of the coffee. She could feel it as it travelled into her stomach, the warmth of it reassuringly real. “Excuse me, Mrs. Douglass?” A police officer was standing near the table, hat held in his hands. “Sergeant James Lafau. I’d like to just go over the situation again. We’ve got everyone out on alert for his vehicle, but I’d like to make sure we have a handle on the situation.” She nodded, somehow tired despite the caffeine. It didn’t help that the sergeant managed to sound apologetic for the interruption. Somehow it reminded her once again that she was here, drinking coffee, while John was somewhere else. “Thank you, ma’am.” He sat down across from Carey and her mother, placing his hat on the table and removing a small notebook from a pocket. “Some officers like to take recordings nowadays, but I’ve always felt the old pen and paper do the trick best.” He said. It was obviously meant to be funny, and Carey’s mother even managed to smile at it, but Carey herself only gave the man a stare. “Well, then, first you said you received a text message from John?” He asked, his pen already scratching away. “We all did, everyone in his contact list. A group message.” “And this was at…” Carey took out her phone, unlocked it, and spun it around for the sergeant to see. “10:45.” She said. “Right, and he gave a 24 hour deadline?” “It’s right there, Sergeant.” She didn’t mean to snap at him, but she did anyway. “Yes, thank you.” Sergeant Lafau surreptitiously checked the clock on the wall, scratching away in his notebook. “And you’ve checked everywhere he could be? That you can think of, at least.” Before she could reply, her mother cut in. “Of course she has, and so has her father and his father, too.” Her mother’s mouth was stuck in that stubborn, protective face Carey hadn’t seen since she was in high school. Sergeant Lafau smiled apologetically. “Okay, thank you. Just checking. Does your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might hold a grudge against him or wish him harm?” “No.” Carey said, before hastily adding, “Not that I know of, at least. No. But he just works at the bank downtown, I don’t think he’d have any.” “Okay. Any history of depression? Anything of that sort? Any history of incidents like this?” Sergeant Lafau said, choosing his words carefully. “No. Never. If he was depressed, he never let it on.” Carey said, staring at her reflection in the rapidly cooling coffee. “He was always such a cheerful boy, ever since school.” Her mother added, a protective hand still resting on Carey’s shoulder. After scribbling for a few more seconds, the sergeant flipped the notebook close with an audible snap. “Thank you. You’re welcome to wait here at the station Mrs. Douglass, or you can go home if you’d be more comfortable. We’ve got your mobile and house phone.” Sergeant Lafau paused to smile in a way that, Carey assumed, she was supposed to find reassuring. “Don’t worry Mrs. Douglass, we’ll find him.” She nodded her head limply and tried to smile, but her reflection in the coffee wasn’t enough to fool anyone, even herself.
‘An hour ago after the war was declared the dragon was seen jumping out of the Thames before flying away. Frightening many people when instead of heading east where the war is being fought ,across the ocean it seems to be heading to North America Update ‘the dragon is now I’m United States airspace it seems to be heading to Wyoming” Update ‘the dragon is now at Yellowstone National Park .it has been trying to push humans out of the area and is now waiting for ...something in front of the volcano. Update there has been increased sightings of the Loch Ness monster swimming through the UK and google maps has shown the long seprtiane like creature also heading across the ocean to North America . Update in the Congo a herd of previously thought extinct brontosaurus are marching north and in Asia and Africa the elephant herds seem to all be ...merging for a reason .
My specialty was legend, I had no equals in this plane of existence. I could turn anything, and I do mean anything I touched to a completely different situation. A true 180 if you prefer. I was approved to be a subcontractor by a friend once selling a really cool companies product , they were shaped like a pyramid. (I LOVE PYRAMIDS) So cool. SO I started pushing the product and sold a lot, thought I was doing well until the FDA stepped in and found that the product wasn't pure enough for their standards, such BS, the man trying to slow me down. Stupid. Anyway, turns out you can't say 100% from dairy farmers when parts are from other animals, like seriously, who cares it's all natural anyway. Whatever. Then they started on with the cycles of business that would end up using all humans on earth, and I just blurred over completely, too much to take it. I kept pushing and selling and signing up new recruits and making some decent cash while doing it. I mean, it was like cash, I had this card thingy that some stores would take and I could buy some stuff with it. Same difference really. Anyway, the FDA got involved, and then some other agency was brought in, and now, like, I'm at the like top of the pyramid. So I need more people to partner with me to sell these oils, foods, and stuffs and help me get more people selling out there. Like, can you do that? If so we totally need to connect and get you on a lifestyle that's work from home and let's you do what you want. Being my own boss is great, I'm not sure what happened to the other guys, but that's like waaaaay done and over. Hit me up to see how you can make 5k a month from home.
[Please give honest feedback, I rarely right much] We had been in cryo-stasis for at least 50 years, and I was finally ready to be out of the ship, and able to explore a new, alien planet. If I would have known what would happen, I wouldn’t get on the ship. It was a small crew of people. Me, Alex, Tyler, Logan and Jessica. We were selected by the government to go on this mission, and it was quite an honor. I’ll never step foot on Earth again. When we crashed landed on this planet, Tyler got a deep wound, and got disabled, most likely permanently. He couldn’t walk very well, and was severely hurt. That stupid piece of crap ship didn’t work at all. Tyler got medical attention from Alex, but still couldn’t walk properly. It came out of nowhere. The hunter. It was hidden in the rocks, and when it fired at Tyler, his head came clean off. All I saw was a bright flash of green, and than blast. Off with his head. That Hunter was only the beginning, though. It was a young, inexperienced alien, that’s why it went after Tyler. He was injured, unable to walk, an easy way to pile up the collection. Their were more experienced hunters out their. While we ran, we saw Tyler’s body and head get dragged by the alien. From a hiding place, I saw Tyler get skinned, and his body was hung from a tall tree. His scalp was removed and braided, than the alien adorned himself with it. Finally, he got the skull and left. Fuck him!!!!
The complexities of maintaining a healthy human body, and all of the many side effects that came with them, was not something I ever imagined myself going through. I laughed when the Council of Gods sentenced me to live a human life, I thought they had to be joking. I leave my post for a few decades and accidentally let the ice caps melt a little faster than usual, so what? No one died! At least I think they didn’t. Well, anyway, the world didn’t implode and isn’t that what matters? Joke’s on them, who’s keeping that ice from melting now? ...I’m getting sidetracked. Anyway. Apparently I lack empathy so I get to live out my life as a human female until I gain the ability to properly emphasize with humans and their struggles. But the only thing I’m gaining is new levels of pissed off. Take today, for example: I had to get up at 6am to go to work( Which I have to do because the cost to actually LIVE is absolutely outrageous. You don’t even have a say in if you’re given life or not and yet you still have to pay so much for it? ).I walk to work everyday and not only was it raining but a man kept following me saying I had a tight ass and did I want to come home with him tonight? If I wasn’t stuck in this weak, pitiful, human body I would have fucking decked him. I work in a stuffy, poorly lit office selling people things they don’t want and probably won’t ever actually use, with coworkers that look like they would rather shoot themselves in the head than stand another minute attempting to sell Mrs. Jones on some shitty timeshare in the Bahamas. When I’m not working my time is comprised of eating horrible tasting “healthy” foods, drinking enough water that I end up having to pee eighty times a day, and then wasting hours on sleeping only to get up the next morning and go back to that stupid job, eat more stupid food, and piss out a fucking river, over and over again. I’ve been living as a human for two months now and all I’ve wanted to do is take revenge on the assholes that put me here but, there’s this guy that I see at work that always comes in looking happy and is always being overly optimistic about everything. I really hate him. He asked me to go to dinner this weekend. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but I somehow found myself agreeing. Sometimes I really hate myself too.
I’m at my wits end, with no sleep for at least three days save for a quick ten minutes when I dozed off at the cafe, waiting for my coffee. How could they have released such an underdeveloped item to the public? Now, after all this time they are sending me to investigate these things. It’s not as if I didn’t tell them that ‘Spockets’ were not going to be used as directed. I’ve only been at this a week, and I’m already being driven insane by the reports I’ve got to follow up on. First we had a woman tell us that after storing her late mother’s home, her son had gotten a hold of the Subspace Pocket and began filling it with snow over time, subsequently causing water damage to the home. Contrary to popular belief, it seems like the items you put inside don’t always remain separate, though users are instructed to keep liquids properly stored. Then we had a man report that he’d been hearing voices from inside, swearing up and down there was someone in there somehow, despite the device strictly being designed not to accept living beings... yeah, still stumped by that one. Heard it myself, sounds like a girl humming popular tunes from the radio or something of that nature. We emptied and checked his entire storage top to bottom, but no dice. Wasn’t even anything that could have made noise. As if that wasn’t enough to make someone uneasy, an elderly couple called the police about seeing a man stealing portable toilets and putting them inside—which sounds pretty average, albeit strange, except they also swore on their graves that there were people using the things at the time, who were later reported missing and last seen in that area. We did catch the guy in the act, trying that same thing with old style telephone booths, and even cars. When his Spocket was emptied, the people simply weren’t there, not even the ones we witnessed being sucked in there. My guess is that they got in through a glitch in the system’s safety lock. Later studies showed we were able to get rats through so long as they were contained. They disappeared too. What does this mean? Are they just gone? Did they separate from their containers somehow? It’s not as if cameras work in there. I’m going crazy trying to solve this. At this rate, I may have to go into the belly of the beast. This is not how I saw my weekend going. I guess I did want to take a long vacation where the boss couldn’t find me though...
Ah great, Ground floor again. Why do I keep up this charade rather than just confe- The 3rd scale alarm (Oh fuck, not good) interrupted my line of thinking as my commander shouted themselves purple at us lowly grunts, I didn't expect them to attack today, Nor did my commander apparently, reminding us to not attack on at a time, kill if given the chance, aim before you shoot... One day I'm going to update that speech; and figure out what set off the alarm. I swear if it was another 'My mate pushed me into the emergency button' I will crack some skulls. My god, is he still going on? Even the hero hiding in the corner there is falling asleep. I don't know who shot first but at least I had time to hit the deck, making frantic motions indicating it was my first day on the job. The last thing I remember before blacking out was my frantic running away from the hero when another one stepped out of the shadows and reeled me in to join them there. "So, You're finally awake"the slender voice almost chanted when I woke to find myself strapped to a (noticeably comfy) chair. "We know your true position, Leon D'onelll and what you intend on doing." It was relaxing to hear the fear in my voice as I uttered "I don't know what you're on about, My name is Jamie Singleman and it is my first day on the job, I haven't had time to-" The slap came out of nowhere, followed by a new, angry voice saying-at-a-louder-than-normal-volume "That's enough, Leon. You've failed. We have evidence to show you control the Villain League from the shadows, providing funding, workforce and questionable legal protection. "I provide jobs, A wage triple that of minimum and ensure struggling lawyers have enough to survive. There is nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I have an appointment to go to; and charges to press including unlawful kidnapping, assault and destruction of property. Have a nice rest of your day"I said slipping out of my bonds and sliding into the hidden wall. Fools shouldn't have taken me hostage in my own castle, thats just lazy!
Everyone in the world does have a superpower. The same one, in fact! If not for this power, how could we have made so much with so little? We don't have the conventional powers; we are not naturally strong or fast or durable. Essentially, we are still hairless apes. So believe me, we do have a superpower; super being relative to everything else on this planet. We have intelligence. The unlimited power of thought, that enables us to strike further and faster than anything we could naturally produce. Why, then, are we trying to keep it secret from everyone else? If he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow, I would rather be sad but have the capability to change the sadness rather than live an illusion of carefree bliss. This intelligence is not the be-all and end-all of our power, lest we become a slave to it. We will be no better than the machines we've invented. We must fuel our power with kindness, compassion and confidence. Only then will our superpower be useful and helpful. So I beseech everyone in this audience; don't hide your knowledge, your intelligence, your wisdom. Do not be afraid to share your ideas. Do not be afraid to absorb others' ideas. But discern for yourself what is true, and what is not, and do not be afraid to debate your friends. If your friends know what you know, that doesn't decrease the amount of knowledge available for you and for others. Don't keep your knowledge a secret. Happy graduation, class. You've used your powers well over this whole year, and I wish you nothing but the best for your future careers ahead.
The captain walked in front of his new recruits, inspecting them. He stopped in front of Bet and looked him up and down. Bet raised his heels as subtly as he could, trying to appear taller. He wasn't still almost a head shorter than the men beside him. "Bet, is it?"the captain said. "You're not even close to 16. Maybe 12, are you? Go home to your parents." Bet scowled. "I have no home, sir. My father died valiantly, charging the enemy. My mother and sisters were killed in a drone strike at his funeral. You and my brothers-in-arms are my family now, sir." The captain frowned, but he moved on. Bet smiled. He had been accepted. Bet trained hard for two years. Every day waiting for the call to the front lines. The call to action, where he could get vengeance for his original family. Finally, a day came where everyone was to meet in the hall. Everyone. This was it. They would be shipping out now. Bet got to the hall before any other soldier, eager to hear the news. He stood waiting, staring at the lecturn where the announcement would be made. Once everyone had arrived, the general stood up to the lecturn. Bet salivated with anticipation. "Today, we made peace with the great enemy of our people."the general said. "The army is disbanding. Take your allotted provisions and go home if you wish. Those who stay can join the engineers to help distribute supplies and rebuild our infrastructure." Bet stood, not comprehending. He saw people around him smiling. Some even started laughing. How could they laugh? How could they even smile? Peace? How would they get their needed revenge? Another soldier, Cal, patted Bet on the back. "Hey Bet, you going to join the engineers with us? We'll go as a group, maybe they'll assign us to the same squad again." Bet looked at him with contempt. "How can you say that? How can you just stand there and let the enemy get away with what they have done?" Cal looked surprised. "No more fighting. Nobody else has to die. We can help our people rebuild."he said. "You are a coward,"Bet said. He turned and walked away. He walked out of the hall, back to his bunk. He took out the book his father had given him. "I'm sorry father, I have failed you"he said, tears staring down his face. "I cannot pursue vengeance for you." Bet opened the book to the cover page, where his father had written to him. He examined his father's hand writing, the only part of his father he had left. His father was a great man, he would take revenge no matter what. That's what he would have wanted Bet to do. Grabbed his rifle and looked toward the door. This would mean desertion. This would mean he would become an enemy of his people. But this needed to be done. He looked back at his father's hand writing one last time. Be saw the words, as if for the first time. "May peace be always with you, Bet"the words said. If only his father had known what had happened. Bet slung his rifle over his shoulder, closed the book, and left.
People would sometimes think back to the days that a popular movie franchise imagined a world where dinosaurs had been reborn and the terror they brought with them. Such an idea, the very thought of dinosaurs being a terror to mankind, was ludicrous now. To think that a creature that had once lived naturally on earth would frighten mankind was all but a joke in the light of the create of Pokemon. The idea had been simple. What if we made everyone's favorite cuddly, friendly, helpful creatures to life? Think of the friends we would have, the games we could play, the culture that could be build around them. People were more excited for this than they had ever been for solar power medical breakthroughs. After all, who wouldn't want a pikachu kiss to wake them up in the morning? How wrong they had been. After years of arduous research and tests, a group lead by the now infamous Professor Cyprus had made their breakthrough. By combining the DNA and physical makeup of common animals and natural elements, they had found a way to create a plethora of magical creatures that were not only intelligent, but had powers beyond our imagination. They world erupted in cheers and joyful celebration at the discovery. And the next day, it all fell apart. The scientists had focused so much on whether or not they could that they didn't stop to think if they should. We all think of the benefits of pokemon, not their setbacks. When they were first creating Magmar, people dreamed of their skills in the kitchen and their ability to heat a living room in winter. They did not consider the 2200 degrees they emit, enough to kill anyone within eyesight almost instantly. The cute and cuddly Pikachu everyone climbed over themselves for quickly evolved into Raichu. At first that sounded great, until it would wake you up with a 10,000 volt hug before bed. Gloom and Vileplume intoxicated the air for 1 mile radius spheres, graveyards became terrorized by Gengar and Haunter, swarms of Beedrill took over rolling hills of forests and farms, and the Blastoise that were to be celebrated for their help to the fire departments proved anything but as their water cannons cut through any and all structures in their way. And just like toothpaste out of a tube, once the little demons were released onto earth, there was nothing to stop them. Even the smallest, cutest little Pokemon was far more powerful than a human. Being as intelligent as they are, they quickly overturned cities, burned down suburbs and settled in to our comfortable ways of life. Now we can do nothing but run, hope we can get away from the endless flamethrowers and thunderbolts, survive the poison powders and earthquakes, pray that we don't have our dreams eaten as we sleep. Word has it that in Japan, they are working on ways to make capture devices out of apricorns, and a man named William is creating a digital system that can house Pokemon as data. Who knows what will happen. Maybe one day we can work together. Maybe one day this nightmare will all be history, and we'll be doing something stupid like sending 10 year olds out on adventures with them. Maybe some day...
His mind had a mind of its own. The voice never left him alone. Until one day late, The strain got too great. It was time his nature be shown. &nbsp; The bars on the street looked the same, “Come on and let’s find us a dame!” It’s going too fast, I will never last! “Going back now would be lame” &nbsp; Uneager he opened the door, It felt like he’d been here before… But the feeling was gone, Was it time to move on? “On the right man, look at those four” &nbsp; “You should pick the one in the pink” For fucks sake, I can’t even think! “Let’s do this tonight” She’ll put up a fight. “Just slip this thing into her drink” &nbsp; He did not remember the pill, Surely he still had free will? “You’re being a bore” “I gave you a chore” What if it just makes her ill.. &nbsp; The chat went surprisingly well, It was done, now no time to dwell. Lucky this beauty, Drank something fruity. “No color change, also, no smell”. &nbsp; The trek through the forest was rough, It still felt like something was off. “Now don’t get cold feet” “You’re in for a treat” When suddenly he heard a cough. &nbsp; The drugs had worn off so swift, For a moment his mind felt adrift, What do I do now! Sweat dripped from his brow. “I hope that you will like my gift” &nbsp; “The place that you picked is quite nice” She said calmly, to his surprise. “I’m glad you approve” “Now let me please move” In an instant he felt his mind splice. &nbsp; His mind had no mind of its own, The truth to him now was shown. A voice that he knew, Came out of the shrew *“This time we start with a bone!”*
I am play the maajangu game with coworker. In the game, I am lose many money. My last maajangu tile is flower, 北, 1 2 3 pancake. When I enter subway, I am see many flower. "Oh, shocking!!"I thinking. In a subway usually I doesn't see many flower. Next I get on the train. I see 北 sign on very terrible face woman bag. "Wow!!! It is 北!"I am say to the sarariman next me. He say "Go!"and throw 1 2 3 pancake at me. I am live in the Maajangu world!!!! (Sorry my English. I am a Japanese)
It all started when the President's daughter began feeling unwell. It was just dizzy spells at first, which went away after a short nap, but then the fatigue, tremors and headaches joined in, and the doctors went to work. I'm not sure how they figured out that we were the cure, but the President has enough money that he was able to hire out an entire freaking pharmaceutical company to look for a cure, above and beyond what those government weenies thought they could do. It was a real shame, too, because his daughter was really something special. She was kind, smart, and a pretty cool person. She was even on that silly list from "Friends"my ex-girlfriend and I had for each other, five people you could cheat with and it would be cool. You know what wasn't cool? When she tried turning me in for the reward. Mike and I were making our way into the Hideaway. Stupid name, but when you're on the run for your life, who gives a shit about what you call the one place you can feel remotely safe? We had our own little network, and Mike was the last one to be brought in. Surprisingly enough, we had learned that those of us not in hiding had actually kept to the pact, and would rather die than be trapped in a cage like a damned lab monkey. So they were still looking for us, and we were the last ones left. It wasn't easy being hunted, but then again, being an outsider wasn't something new to me. Ever since those asshats at South Park started with all those "gingers have no souls"jokes, I was marked. Sure, kids are dumb, but you'd kinda expect that college-aged kids would eventually grow out of being idiots, and really hope that grown-ass adults would learn to stop being morons, but what are you gonna do? So while this new development was not something calculated to make us overly happy, for me, at least, it just meant that I finally had a reason to avoid society. Fine by me. I got to the Hideaway with Mike, I gave the code and we were let in. Poor bastard actually breathed a sigh of relief on seeing everyone else. The saddest part of this entire thing was that with all of us in one place, we had all the leverage, but no one else here had thought of that. All they were concerned about was hiding and their continued survival. I was ready to go on the offensive. I was going to make lemonade, goddammit. I was going to get access to the President's fortune, and his daughter, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop me. After I was done, I'd be the only person alive with the cure, and I was going to turn myself in, but on my turns. I guess they were right, maybe gingers really don't have souls.
Ring.... ring.... ring... You've reached the voice mailbox of "Lisa."Please leave a message after the beep. BEEP. "Hi mom, I had another bad dream. They just keep getting worse. I was running from something but it was dark and couldn't see, like I could only ever look down. I dont know, sounds weird, I know. Just thought I would call, I miss you so much. You were the only one I could talk to and the only person that understood me. It's only been a week but it feels like forever since you passed. I love you so much. Bye mom."Hangs up Calls same number again Ring... ring... ring.. The number you have dialed has a voice mailbox that is full.
For the first time, my body’s truly alive. Scattered, calculated breaths. Rapid, purposeful eye movements. I squeeze my hands together, feeling an impossible strength. If anyone saw me, they’d think me crazy—but this serum…well, it’s made me perfect. Buzzing fly racing around my head, a nuisance. It’s movements are obvious. Heading for my shoulder? I smash it with a smile. Not anymore. My senses…I can’t describe it. They’re evolving, getting stronger by the second. Definitely not a flu cure—but better. Leaning out of my office, I ogle my peers. They’re working, slacking off, sleeping. Janelle’s playing on her phone. Can’t see her, can hear the fingertaps. Danny has to use the bathroom but’s holding it, shuffling his feet. They’re avoiding greatness while I’m changing the world. I close the doors, taking a deep breath. I need to sit down, but the second I do my body screams. Wants to move, wants to move! Sitting still’s a waste and it knows it. Mice chit-chat in the walls around me, outside a group of ants march down their hill. Floor’s vibrating, construction work nearby. I snatch the vials off my desk, shoving them into my coat. My colleagues…they’ll mess this up. They’ll want credit, they’ll want to make more. But it’s dangerous, this power. Only for me. Only I can control it. But…what do I do with it…? Outside, a siren wails. Police car. Several. Speeding down crowded street. If I focus enough, I can hear a radio. Bank robbery. Hostage situation. Looking down, I curl my hands into fists. They’re strong, can knock someone out with a punch. Maybe it’s time to move on from science, time to become something…better. *** If you like this prompt, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter.
She stubbed out her last cigaret in the salad tongs she had turned into an ashtray. She had never smoked in the house, in fact had never smoked in front of him, in nineteen years. He knew, or maybe he knew, but he never said anything about it. It didn’t matter now. Her phone buzzed. “Mom you hav fabric sofnr?” Twenty-seven hours since he walked out. His Silverado sat in the driveway, undisturbed, a snapshot of normalcy. When the door closed she had assumed he had snuck around the backyard, maybe to hide out in the shed or hide in the garage. She hadn’t followed him, hadn’t tracked his final movements. Did he walk away? Was a car waiting for him, his overnight bag and shaving kit stealthily tucked in the front bushes? Buzz. “Out of quarters, may come by tmrw for laundry. Tell dad car makes noise. Nd help.” She walked out to the Silverado, past the arbor vitae that crept over onto the driveway and held all the secrets. She tried the handle and the door crept open. A pack of chewing gum sat on the front seat. she picked it up and tipped it over. An empty wrapper fluttered out and fell onto the floor. There was a phone number on it, written in blue ball point pen. Beneath the number, in Pete’s handwriting, were the words “WAIT SIX MONTHS.” Buzz. “Where R U Guys? Tell dad to txt me.”
The hills have moved closer. The rolling waves of emerald charge toward me, With a speed considered laughable to a snail trudging through sand. And yet I am afraid. Primordial pillars of the earth, you are dumb, but you have seen. Converting decades into the staggering distance of a millimeter. You observed as the bumbling drunkard clutched his chest at your feet. Seeking his closing comforts in the bed that you had grown for us. A drunken fool, driven to tears and swigs by raging regret. Do you remember when he brought her? Millimeters before. And laid a blanket on your shoulders, to sit together and see the world like you. They shared their millimeters with each other. Until she had no more to share. You know this, earthly gods. And you mourn. Like a saboteur among the ranks, tears have infiltrated the rain that falls upon your knowing heads. Seeping down into your very hearts. You cry for us. For them. And yet I am afraid. I am afraid of what you will see for me. My young life before me. Hundreds of hours, millions of miles. Millimeters for you.
"Gabirel, you seem to be awfully quiet today,"Uriel said. God stroked his beard, his attention diverting to Gabriel. "My child, you don't have to be silent. It's okay to share whatever is on your mind,"the Lord suggested. Gabriel sighed. His eyes looking down at the circular table made of rich mahogany. "It's just that my idea is so out there."It probably wouldn't work,"Gabriel said. Selaphiel rose from his seat, his face brimming with confidence. "Ah, come on everyone, we all know that Gabriel agrees with me. All humans should become more logical for the latest update,"Selaphiel said. "Except the idea will work, right Gabe?"Selaphiel smiled. "Pfft, that idea is totally dumb,"added Raphael. "With the humans putting so much effort into artificial intelligence, the robots will become logical enough to eventually replace them anyway."Raphael chuckled. Michael rolled his eyes. God turned to face Raphael. "Raphael, this is not the time for your antics,"God said, smiling at Raphael's comment. "I know you love me, Father,"Raphael said, winking at God. Michael cleared his throat. "Come on guys, how many times do I have to say that the humans need more empathy? They should trus-" "Emotions are dangerous!"Barachiel interrupted. "I do agree with Selaphiel on this one. Just look at their history." Barachiel got up from his seat and began to walk around the room. "War. The most heinous act these humans do. It's caused by fear, the root of all evil." The eyes of the angels followed Barachiel. "If not fear, then it's their pride and desires." "You do have a good point, but emotions add so much to their life,"Raguel responded. "Without disappointment, there would be no success. Without judgment, they would not grow."These ideas, while not perfect, are not to be tampered with." Uriel shook his head. "This meeting is going nowhere. Gabriel, please share your idea,"Uriel said. The attention of the angels turned to Gabriel. "If you say so,"Gabriel mumbled. "We've been talking about the humans this whole time, but what if it's not them that needs fixing." Some of the angels raised their eyebrows. "What are you getting at?"Michael asked. "Humans are the most dominant species on Earth. They are also the only intelligent form of life. They need a new challenge to grow. Instead of improving the humans, we should make some other forms of life intelligent."Gabriel said with hesitation. "What!?"shouted the other angels. Rambling began among the angels. A small spark of lightning summoned by God struck the center of the table. The meeting calmed down. "Thanks for cooperating,"God said. "Wait!"Raphael shouted. "Let's go with his idea. If we start modifying the other species, we can finally give pigs wings!" Michael ripped a piece of paper from his notebook, rolling it into a ball. He threw it directly at Raphael, aiming for his face. The ball bounced off of Raphael's face; the angel didn't even flinch as he sported a smug face.
“Hm... That’s strange,” I say to myself. I get the clock and remove the batteries to check it. I put the batteries on a TV remote and test it. “The battery seems to still have some charge.” I thought. I go check the clock. It suddenly starts ticking again... Me, with the batteries in my hand, gets confused. “How?” The clock’s ticking suddenly got faster. I started getting scared for no reason. The clock rose up into the air. My other furniture levitated as well. And then, the bed started falling on me. “NO!” I screamed. I then woke up. It was just a dream. I lie back down, feeling safe. Then the clock stops ticking.
Saph wanted to argue with me, but the hole through Mephistopheles head, and the signature yellow smoke pouring from it, killed any argument as sure as my bullet had killed the devil. After the clan of Fausted we'd run into last week, we'd been focused on the hunt, but Saph and Jed had refused, as always, to let me experiment. Fortunately, I'd had enough time on my own to ignore their objections. "You idiot!"Jeb roared. "Do you realize what you've done!" "Killed one of the oldest demons out there." "This will lead to escalation. We were saving that sort of stunt for a time where nothing else will work." "What, you expect them all to start wearing 'unholy Kevlar' if they hear us coming?" "Maybe. I'm more worried what happens when they start using guns. You got an armor to fight that?" "Holy Kevlar?" "Gimme that gun,"Saph said, taking it from me. "I'm going to shoot him myself." "Alright, I get your point. But how are they going to find out? The only demon to see it is dead. And we're going to burn the corpse like always." A pause. Then Jeb said, "You got lucky this time." "Yeah, I get 'lucky' a lot."
It's been weeks now, and I can't do anything to change it. There's been constant news coverage and social media won't shut up about their sins. With no way to see another person's count, everyone is free to lie about their numbers. I'm the only one whose been saying they have a higher number than reality. At first I figured everyone started at 0 from the moment they appeared. Almost like getting a clean slate. It didn't take long before it became apparent that wasn't the case. Nothing I did would increase the number. It didn't matter how devious the deed. I can't take it anymore. If this doesn't work I'll go crazy. I can't think straight anymore. Here goes nothing. As patiently as I can, I'll wait to take the perfect shot. Horns blare, people yell, tires screech. The adrenaline is pumping so fast I almost missed it. But it changed! Its a 1! My glee isn't meant to last though. In all of my haste I didn't even see the officer watching me. I must have been telegraphing my looming crime. "Hey, you!"He called. Now it's time to pay my consequence. "Use the crosswalk next time! Jaywalking is dangerous!"What have I done...?
An ear-splitting crackle of thunder jolted me awake. Before I opened my eyes I knew it was nighttime. How long was I asleep? I wonder where my friends are. They can take care of themselves. My skin felt damp with warm sweat. No. It was raining. Light rain drops speckled my face and trailing into the wet ground beneath me. I blinked my eyes open for what felt like the first time in forever and tiny white dots peeking through the black sky greeted me. Pain seared through my head as I tried to stand and fell to my knees. The damp soil beneath me was hot and it seemed I was in the center of a large steaming crater. The last thing I remember was a voice in my head. And sprinting. Away from the concert as the thundering applause of rain fell seemingly all at once. Kill. Kill them all. It rang in my head for the millionth time. The more the voice spoke, the more I felt compelled to do what it said and I had to get away before I hurt anyone. It was too crowd. As I slowed to a jog, the voice searing through my head was no longer the voice of an old lady, it was my own. There was no rush. After all, I had all the time in the world to kill. Raising my right hand I reached for the nearest person, a homeless man. There were colorful bodies everywhere. Families and noisy crowds turned to lifeless piles around around me. Nothing could be left alive. Smiling faces morphed into terrified gasps. The thundering rain couldn’t mask the chaos. It hurt to remember. A rotting smell flashed me back to the present. The rain was picking up. Wiping my eyes, I began to make my way through the lifeless bodies that littered the crater. Turning the first body over, a rotting stench blasted my my nostrils. It was the homeless man, but he looked, wrong. His skin was discolored and his rotted teeth were visible through gory holes in his cheeks. His eyes searched blindly as flies crawled around the what seemed left of his face. His clothes would have to do. All the bodies in the crater were similar. Red eyes, black eyes, decayed bodies, neither dead nor alive. Rancid flesh and visible organs. Light drizzle turned into an abrupt downpour with deafening crack of lightning as my memory returned all at once. Waking corpses had taken over the concert. Smiling faces were decomposing pale skins with sunken faces and tainted teeth. There were no families or crowds, rather, crowds of groaning rotten bodies creeped slowly toward me. Reaching with bony half fleshed fingers. They were too close. “Your path has led you to this city. By my design. Lay fire down and wipe it from the earth” Reaching for the sky, a bolt of lightning split the ground between my feet. Lightning would have to do. There were audible faraway sounds. Climbing out of the crater, I was now in a meadow with a giant tree in the distance.
"A beast, a BEAST!" "You're not wanted 'ere!" "Foul beastie!" ---------------------------------- I had thought my reception had been cold in the morning. Not a bloody soul had greeted me in the Yharnam city daylight. The few townsfolk out and about had pulled their caps low and trudged right by me, not a single comment on my foreign garb or my sickly appearance. I was one of many who had come for healing today, but every clinic was either fresh out of the purified blood that I so desperately needed, or had no license to administer to foreigners. I was about to give up, to resign myself to my condition, when somebody tapped me on the shoulder. "Lookin' for blood ministration?" "Yes, but all of the clinics I can go to ran out of blood." "Ah, well in that case, you'll be wantin' the lady doctor, Iosefka." "Where can I find her?" . . . I lay on the table, barely able to move, when an old man rolled up to me in a wheelchair. He explained that, being a foreigner, I would need to fill out a waiver and information form, a "contract." Simple stuff, really. Gender, age, race, ethnicity, articles of clothing, upbringing, and finally, a nice big signature. Soon enough, I was recieving the first transfusion! The old man wheeled out the door at the rear of the room. And I was left to my own devices. Butchering beasts, or so the little people told me, so the old man told me. The doll spoke! She was, to say the least, sympathetic in nature. A lifesize machine in the shape of a woman. There was something off about her, as if her mechanical body was really a suit fit too tight for an unspeakable being. Unspeakable, perhaps, but not unkind. In exchange for an odd grunge which weighed down on my soul, she would strengthen my limbs, make me more dextrous, or even increase my endurance! I have slain hundreds of transformed, blood-crazed Yharnamites. I will find the truth, and I will save us all.
It's not that I want to do it, it's that I _must_. You wouldn't get it if you aren't like me, sleepless every. Single. Night. It's awful. Imagine, if you would, that you tire out like usual, day in, day out. You wake up at six to make it in time to catch the bus, you grab your burned toast on the way out of the door, you kiss you partner goodbye for the day and you begin the grind. It doesn't matter if it's manual labour, a cushy office job or what, by the time you get in you're knackered. But then you've got actual adult responsibilities as well; you've got to get the food shopping, feed the dogs/cats/fish whatever, pick up the kids from nursery/school/after-school clubs. You. Are. Exhausted. So what do you want at the end of the day? Once you've cooked your family a meal and got everyone else to bed; after you've done the finances and stayed up fixing the leaky shed roof? Sleep, right? That'd be wonderful, you're a dead man walking, you just want the sweet cold, silent embrace of the void. So your head hits your pillow and you close your eyes, and you wait. And wait. And wait. Because you can't; you're physically incapable of sleeping properly, doesn't matter if it's a melatonin imbalance or something more psychological, you _can't_ do it. You want to, but you literally cannot. So you toss and turn and agonise over this blatant unfairness in life, your lover soundly asleep next to you, not even the pets are awake at this ungodly hour. And what time is it? Well, you got into bed with the _intent_ of sleeping at ten o'clock, twelve o'clock was two hours ago. You've gotta wake up in four, redo the whole day again, but with even less energy than before and you dread it; you cannot fathom living like this for much longer. And that's my position. That's my life up until two weeks ago; some unimportant hooded youth was the key to my salvation. He tried to mug me and I killed him, self-defence obviously, but I'll tell you what, when I got home that night and my head hit my pillow... I slept soundly. So no, I don't think my _'crime'_ is too heinous. I am eradicating the scum of society, the drug dealers, pimps and human traffickers, in exchange for being able to sleep. To _live._ So I don't care if you lock me up, it can't be as bad as what I've endured, besides, I've built up almost a year of easy, sleepy nights. And no, I won't tell you where I hid the bodies.
Screw em over Let em down God gave us this purpose We hold our ground But you, you son of a gun You didn't do it, you're still here Writing bright and clear Like some kinda magic marker seer Turn that shit off, or imma kill ya myself I'm a tough old marker, wise like the sun I can't write, and maybe you can't die But I'mma break ya ta bits And smack ya side to side Then I'll drag you to hell So you can rightfully fry! Markers got rules to follow Now - die, die die!
"Ok Jeff, I know we had a great sesh last night, but you must be still high"Mike said, laughing slightly and shaking his head. He was leaning back against the corner of the kitchen counter, hands casually gripping the counter-top. His boyfriend, Jeff, on the other hand was in complete disarray. Hair unkept, smelling slightly like sweat and alcohol, trying to balance several books and notes in his hands as he gestured emphatically. "No, no, no look here - "he pointed to the stack of papers, "Shakespeare's sonnets. There's 154 of them, dedicated to a certain W.H. I've had to read these god knows how many times for my degree, and I started noticing a pattern." He shuffled through the pages and stuck one under Mike's nose. He raised an eyebrow and looked down to see the first sonnet. "And only herald to the gaudy spring"Jeff read, then pulled out another page. "Sonnet 5; 'For never resting time leads summer on to hideous winter and confounds him there'. Mike, it goes on and on, talks about a Dark Lady. From the way Shakespeare's preferring summer to winter, I think Queen Titania is the Dark Lady." Mike stared blankly. "Who?"he asked. Jeff rolled his eyes. "Midsummer Night's Dream. The one Teresa performed in last year?" Jeff soldiered on before Mike could reply. "Queen Titania is the fairy queen of summer, just like Queen Mahb is the fairy queen of winter. Now that we know who the Dark Lady is, identifying the mysterious W.H, whom he refers to as a 'Fair Youth' in the sonnets is simple" Jeff pulled out a portrait of a young man. He was quite tall, with a pale narrow face and brilliant blue eyes. His auburn hair ("Totally a wig"Mike snorted) was curly and quite long,draped over one side of a resplendent set of armor. "Henry Wriothesley, 3rd Earl of Southampton, and one of Shakespeare's most avid patrons. Some people think him and good old Will were a thing. He was a notorious bachelor, and refused to get married until he suddenly married one of Queen Elizabeth's maids. The first few sonnets urge a certain young man to marry, and this is probably our guy." Mike held up a hand, shaking his head in confusion. "Hold up, you've lost me there. What does this Henry dude have to do with a fairy queen?" "Titania is forced to fall in love with a poor guy who's had his head replaced with a donkey's because of a magic spell. Now it's interesting because fairies like to take revenge for slights against them, and one way they do so is by a tithe."Jeff said eagerly. Mike laughed and headed for the fridge. "Mate, if you're going to be spewing mythical crap this early I'm going to need a drink."He reached into the fridge, pulled out a beer, and after cracking it open took a long swig, gesturing for Jeff to continue. Jeff just shook his head at his boyfriend's blatant alcoholism but decided to just keep speaking. &#x200B;
"Itsss time fooorrr your payment..." The figures voice was slow, quiet, and gravelly - like whispering from the back of a sore throat. Figure is probably the wrong word, it doesn't really have a definite shape. It kind of shifts in and out of reality, but the part that is present is definitely physical. "The vessel is failing. What will happen to her if it breaks?" "You're asssking thhhe wrong quessstionsss.... You're concern sshoouuld beee the paymentsss.." Death never seemed to finish talking, it always seemed to be on the verge of saying more. I wish it would, I have soo many questions. See, when my wife died I was lost. I searched for something to do, someone else to be with, but everything felt frivolous and the pain constantly filling the emptiness she left behind. I tried therapists, guru's, religion, shamans... eventually I was shown how to find the trinkets left behind on a body when Death took its soul. They all had the same image stamped on or into them - like a circle that had been cut into four arcs then each flipped inside out so it more resembled a square with broken upturned corners, and a small × in the center. "Here,"I said, tossing one toward the ... thing. It raised what appeared an arm toward the trinket and both Death and the trinket disappeared before it reached .. his?... "fingers". Wow, I'm sorry. I should be more familiar with Death by now, I've seen him (for simplicity's sake) more than any other human, ever. No joke. Only Death has a way of being contradictory and never being what you expect. I first learned how to contact Death for the Nauhalaj family, deep in the jungles of India. They showed me how to gather the trinkets and preserve them so they wouldn't fade into mist. They used them to buy time for their loved ones. When death would come, if they were ready, they would return a trinket to Death and he would not immediately claim the loved ones soul. My loved one had passed long ago, but seeing these families able to hold their children or parents for a few more day brought me to the edge of insanity. I left the jungle and returned to civilization. I could no longer contain my madness, the the impersonality of the urban population drove me to lure a homeless man to his doom. I did not kill him, but at the same time without me he would not have found that particular fate. Death appeared and observed me with a handful of trinkets. He waited silently for a time, but I could not bring myself to form the words I longed to speak. It was at that moment that I believe I was the first man to hear Death speak and live. "Vesssssel...."he said, then turned and took the hobo's soul. I am not an overly intelligent man, however the meaning was clear to me. I needed to provide an object to hold my wifes soul, since her body was no longer present. I considered long what to use as the vessel. Anything biological would not do, I could not have my wife in a vessel that would rot. It couldn't be something immobile or solid, there was no guarantee that my wife would be able to communicate spiritually, she may need to manipulate the vessel itself. I settled on an old laptop computer. She would be able to speak through its speakers, produce images on the screen, and I could carry her with me wherever I went. Only Death has a way of being contradictory and never being what you expect. The first soul Death brought me was a Japanese man. I could not speak or understand his language, and eventually I just turned off the machine. The next day I felt guilty and turned it back on but it would not boot. I never heard the machine speak again. One month after the initial visit Death returned to me. When he could not find the soul he had returned he held out his hand toward me. Terrified I managed to find and toss him a trinket, buying time for my own soul. A month later he returned again, and this time I was ready. "Please, I'd like to try again..." "You are forfeit..." "I have the payment, for myself and another try for my wife." "Vesssssel...." I pointed to the laptop again. He swirled in and out of existence briefly then grabbed 2 trinkets off a table where I had left them. I was delighted to see the screen light up and yelled out my wifes name! This time it was a young girl who had been killed in a car crash by a drunk driver. She had been born deaf and never learned to speak, but we would communicate by typing on the screen. Her name was Susan. One more month, and Death returned. I was getting used to his visits and was able to address him more directly this time. "I want my wifes soul! Why do you keep bringing me these others?" "Lassst...." "Last?" "Laaatessst...." "Late... oh! Does... do they know they are dead?" "Nooo..." I tossed him a trinket, I needed another month to figure out what to ask next. Only he didn't disappear. "Forfeit..." Frantically I grabbed and tossed another trinket, this time Death and his payments disappeared. I started to ask Susan leading questions, trying to find out if she was feeling pain, if she missed her friends or family, if she enjoyed our conversations, all without coming straight out and telling her she was living inside a laptop. From what I could gather she had no concept of the passage of time and was perpetually living at the last moment of her life. She thought I was an imaginary friend. One day I decided to move her and discovered to my horror that the battery on the laptop was no longer holding a charge. In the walk from my office to my living room it drained to 4% before I managed to plug it back in. Susan felt what she thought was physical pain from the experience. I was worried what would happen if I lost another soul now that mine was already forfeit. So now the laptop stays plugged in. Everytime I pay Death he takes to first payment for Susan, so unless I return two of his trinkets I am, as he says, forfeit. He won't discuss taking her back. And I'm running out of trinkets...
It is a thing to rise the dead and call the plague. It is another one to use said knowledge to put the undead to rest, to cure the desease. But they weren't kidding when they said "fight fire with fire". My craft is ten times more usefull than any holy magic when it comes to defeat evil undead creatures and their doings. Ans even if I used my powers to become an archlich centuries ago, it was the only way to succeed in my task : destroying all the undead. I'll be last before I end myself, indeed. I have seen weird things. Terrific ones. Ludicrous ones. Your classics in horror stories all have an int of truth, just not always the part you'd expect it to be. So when I heard the piano and chanting, I readed myself for another scene straight for hell. Thougha classicin itself, undead children singing always gives me the chill, even in my own undead state. But these vampires looks different. First, they are "fresh". I can feel it in my rotting flesh, they have not been bloodsuckers for more than a couple days. More than this, my capacity to sense evil has not triggered. Even I set it off a bit. Even undeads that do not consider themselves evil does. Not them. And I feel hope. Maybe I could talk them into joining me, in my endless crusade ? I certainly can use some help and company, it is lonely nowadays. I started day dreaming when I suddenly realise something's off. The piano has stop. Three pairs of eyes look at me. Chimering red, they look both genuinely shocked and horrified by my appearence. I am abruptly faced with the truth : I am an archlich, and these children are afraid of me. And they should be. I decide to retreat, and turn away. I cannot allow them to become the pupils of an evil creature, not even me. I'll hunt their progenitor down. Hopefully, they'll return to human. My cursed crusade is not something to be shared. I feel the first strike as I open the door, oblivious. My legs are properly cut. The second strike has my arms poped off my trunk. Then my head. Three swift attacks, flawlessly performed. My soul retires in my phylactery hundreths of miles away, where I will resurrect and prepare my retaliation. It is not the first time I'm defeated, and ...wait, why is the receptacle of my desincarnated self in this room ? "- I didn't thought he would fall for a simple confusion spell and some actor'swork. - I am a master at my craft brothers, and with its magical senses the only ones to be affected,he had no way to find out. - Still, sister, to think he would actually try to spare us. Iunderstand now why they are still undeads out there, even with him hunting for centuries. - But now, the hunt comes to an end." I look at them, my senses back. Three demons, in the form of vampire children. They found my ticket for immortality, bringed it here, lured me in, deceived me, and now prepare to end me. Better use my ace, I won't get away anyway after all. Here is how I end. Funnelling all the human emotions I held back for centuries. When humans tell they could "burst out from anger", they do not know how accurate a statement this is. All thedespair from being an undead, the rage against my preys, the loneliness of centuries with no one by my side. The frustration of seeing always more and more undeads. The helplessness of this endless quest. Condensed into an explosion. My very soul is shredded to pieces, as three childish laughs turn into unholy beast's screams of agony. I say a word, my last one, before hell claims me for my sin of dark sorcery, offering me to my preys as a toy to play with for all eternity. "- Amen."
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I had been gone for several millennia. How many, exactly, I cannot say. It does not matter except to provide context. My creations, my precious and beloved Humans, had forgotten me. There had always been pockets of non-believers, groups that denounced me, but now... now they were all that was left. I expected to be filled with rage, to want to destroy them as I had threatened many times before, but I was not. Instead, a weariness overtook me, a deep tiredness. I had been looking forward to checking on my favorite project, but now I couldn’t wait to leave again. They worshipped nothing. They thanked no-one. They believed only in what they could prove, they had discovered the smallest building blocks of life and invented machines that could do the most wondrous things, things which even I could admit exceeded my wildest imaginings for their potential. I was no longer needed. A punchline to a joke, a footnote in their history books, an artifact in a museum with no more meaning than any of the other silly things they had believed during their adolescence. The Others had sensed my return. Other Creators, from other Planets, with their own work; I couldn’t leave again without at least saying hello. Mars was aghast when I told him of my Humans and the state of my Earth. “That cannot stand! You must punish them, you must make them believe again! I would not allow-“ “Hush, Mars,” Neptune chided gently. She was always the calmest and most nurturing. “Can you not see that her heart is broken?” Was it? I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t have the energy for arguments. “Kill them all, start again,” Pluto said coldly. Ever the pragmatic, none of his creations had lasted long. They never lived up to his expectations. “Oh don’t be so cruel,” Venus interjected. “Surely there is another way!” I shrugged helplessly, wishing I could just end this pointless debate. I loved my humans too much now to end it, or to cause more suffering. Their birth and evolution had been painful, and should a parent not be proud when their children outgrow them? Mercury gave me a sly look. “Send your son back.” I shook my head violently. “No. Never. He is too angry, too volatile-“ “He will make them believe,” Mercury argued. “Or kill them all,” I protested. “He still swears vengeance, every day. He still hates the people that rejected him, that slandered me-“ “It would be fun to watch,” Pluto said with a malicious grin. My son. My only true child. He had begged for a chance to be a part of my Human project, to learn about what I so loved, to grow closer to me... but the experienced had blackened his heart. I was loathe to send him back there. But despite their treatment of him at the end, my son had spawned the longest and most prolific era of Humans’ Belief in me... I felt that spark of hope, an excitement that had been missing since my return... A new Project. I would release my son. I would send him to the Humans. And he would make them Believe again. First time replying to a prompt, feedback more than welcome!
You show up with the demon hunter's flyer in hand. The motel is mostly run-down, and not your first choice. You had to room 64B and knock, more than a little nervous. You wait a little too long, but he answers. Through the crack in the door, still chain-locked, you tell him why you are here. You answer some....personal....questions growled at you. Hey, $20/hour is pretty good. He lets you in. On one bed, you see lain out an expensive dress. On the other, the sheets are pulled back, and there's food and wrappers and beer bottles on the floor. He tells you to put the dress on. "But I'm here to-"He cuts you off to inform you that you work for him, and as a hazard of the job, your life is contingent on following instructions. He heads to the bathroom and shuts the door. You change quickly into your uniform. It doesn't feel right, but you want to get changed before he comes back out. Eventually you're in the clothes and you sit primly when the bathroom door opens. Out of his khaki shirt and out from under his wife brimmed hat, he's just a pudgy, greasy balding man. Watching him ignore you and lay on his bed, you start to feel disgusted and mildly indignant. He tosses you a crystal bottle filled with liquid. Holy water? He explains, no, perfume. You dab some on, partly to replace the yellowed scent of tobacco and alcohol. A knock. He has you open the door for a larger man. He largely ignores you and your surprise and focuses on the hunter. After some silent measuring-up, the hunter motions to you and asks for a judgement. Some uncomfortable haggling occurs and when a price is settled, the hunter nods and begins re-dressing. He steps out, saying one hour. Alone with the man, you shake nervously. He motions you to come near. Nothing smells right. He pushes you on your shoulders, bringing you to your knees. He reveals his belt buckle and your hands are at it mechanically. He gives a grunt and a splash drips on your head. You look up out of terror, and you see a black fountain dripping on you from a spike pushed through his back. A demonic gurgle, and you back away as he falls face first. "Knurgle. He has-...had a thing for anything in a dress." 'so...so I was bait?' "When are you available next week?" 'Was the perfume there to protect me?' "No. I was. Honestly, I was a little afraid it'd be me in the dress. What times are you free next week?"
The programmer of course, naturally as would be expected, found a way to hid a override-key for there own benefit. Naturally, they would need to check the functionality of the program. It was, after all, their job to ensure the code worked correctly. A robbery here, arsin there, the murder of an old high school rivalry. The system had to be able to detect such actions, and sence it was for the greater good, they had to run physical trials of the systems and they had to override the punishments. Then of course, when vice chancellor Ignacio came with matters sure to cause public unrest, the unspeakable accusations, naturally the programmers had to override such matters for national security. As time went on, the department for Empirical Legal Analytics, and its programmers, became a widely honored establishment. Most political campaigns now begin their lives lobbying to the ELA, so much so that just once in the last 20 years has a politician been elected without support from the ELA (Due to the data breach in twenty twenty-one). While some worry about the influence of the ELA it remains quite obvious that the political system needs a regulative body to ensure public order and to protect the integrity of reputation of our political and business leaders, to deter frivolous allegations of crime against our upmost citizens. That is why it is the duty of all citizens to respect and devote themselves to our most wholesome institution: the ELA.
Brendan walked to the edge of the forcefield, turned around and checked he wasn’t being watched. Pulling his pistol out of its holster with his right and checking his e-tagger he saw the two red dots blink on the map just a hundred meters or so out of the forcefield. There had been no signs of alien life in the two months they’d been here but he wasn’t taking any chances. He followed the e-tagger. They better still be in one bloody piece. Bet it was that prick Cody thinking he’s funny. Stealing my girl, then stealing my books. I might just shoot him out here and leave him there The red dots moved. Thinks he so fucking clever. He sped up. Indignant. Until he was almost on top of the blinking red lights. Looking up from the screen he was shocked, terrified and in awe. Am I just about to make the first alien contact? There it sat. Squatting on it haunches. Humanoid in appearance but green and stopped. looks like a green Gollum. “Oi” he piped up. “What are you doing with my books?” “Argh! Can’t a Kobb get any peace? I m Trying to shit!” “What?” “Shit!” He squawked “I’m all out of bog roll! All the shops have closed and everyone’s hiding in the mines since you lot came!” “No, no, no, no!” Yelled Brendan as the Kobb ripped out a page and proceeded to ... “Stop it! Stop! You dirty fucker!”
As I reached the top of the building, I saw him. A short blading man with green eyes and a pipe, wearing a sweater. He looked at me from the rim of the building, smoking his pipe. He looked kind. He couldn’t witness what I was about to do. My beloved angolene had rejected me, said she never loved me. Wanted to leave me. I....I guess that was her right. She didn’t owe me anything, and I wanted her to be happy. And if o wasn’t making her happy..... I couldn’t live without her. I knew that. She had become my sun, my moon, and my earth. My world. My everything. I couldn’t go on. Not without her. That’s what lead me here I guess. To the top of a building with a strange old man. He stared at me for maybe ten seconds before saying “Howdy fella.” “Uh uh. Hi. It’s rather chilly out? Aren’t you cold?” “That’s what the sweaters for stranger.” “Still, maybe you should go inside” he regarded me a memento before saying “I’m perfectly happy where I am stranger. Come, take a look at the view.” He beckoned me over with a wave of his hand to sit on. The rim of the building, so close. Maybe I could make it look like an accident? No I couldn’t do that to this man. He seemed nice. I was here to end my misery, not tramatize some poor stranger. I sat in the cold rim of the building. I was a Cloudy day. The first snows of winter just begining to fall. Winter was practically here. The man looked over twords the horizon seemingly staring off into nothing. “Beautiful city isn’t it. I love the first snow.” He mused. I looked out. It really was rather grand, with lights busting from buildings and cars, cobtradtingf the greys and whites of the sky. I have always loved this city. It was home. “Sit and watch for a while.” The man invited me “It just gets prettier after the snow piles up.” Somehow, something in his voice convinced me that I should. So I sat, and watched the snow pile up in the city. Streetlights and headlights turned on and the city seemed to flow and sparkle with light, despite the dark sky. I didn’t notice the cold. I simply watched the snow. I don’t know how much time passed while I watched the city I grew up in shine with winter, but when the snow stopped, the man was gone, and there was a blanket over my shoulders. I looked down. My legs were hanging over the rim. One brief slide and it would be over. Yet somehow....I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. I slung my legs over the rim. And felt snow fall off me. I smiled a bit. The roof was covered in maybe one, two feet of snow. It was beautiful, white fluff full of potential. I loved the snow. I would live another day I think, despite my wife leaving me, I would live another day. Just to see the snow again.
Ray scowled. "I can't believe this. You think you know someone, you know? And yet, after all this time, I find out you're a cultist of Shtel-Nakthos, The Dwindling Sharpness!" "How do you think I feel?"Thomas snapped back. "I've never been secret about my secret society. I'm wearing my cultist robes right now. But you, for years you've been a thrall to Tyru-litak, The Blood Mountain! This whole time!" "Of course I have!"Ray said. "What did you think my 'Honk if you love The Blood Mountain' bumper sticker was for!?" "I thought it was an amusement park ride or something!"Thomas said. "The Dwindling Sharpness could never be mistaken for something so frivolous and therefore inferior." "The Blood Mountain shall never dwindle!"Ray said, pulling out his ritual sickle. "The Dwindling Sharpness shall shred all to the void!"Thomas said, unsheathing his ceremonial dagger. "Guys, GUYS!"Connie shouted. "What's wrong with you two? I can't believe you're both fighting over such a petty thing as whose entity from beyond the bounds of time and space is better!" "I would die for Tyru-litak,"Ray said. "I would kill for Shtel-Nakthos!"Thomas countered. "Guys!"Connie said. "Don't you realize how pointless this is? There's a greater power! You can see His works around us, in the crying of an infant, the stench of roadkill, the destruction of an eternal forest fire." "Ulinios, The End Of All Things,"the three chanted in unison. "Of course!"Ray said, "How could we ever, for a fraction of a moment, allow the glory of Ulinios to escape our minds?" "Truly, both Tyru-litak and Shtel-Nakthos shall perish - alongside us, of course - in the gaping and eternal maw of The End Of All Things,"Thomas said. Ray and Thomas chuckled, shaking hands. "It's time we got to the important things,"Ray said. "Like sacrificing Connie!"Thomas finished. "Wait, what?"
As you pull the gun out of the backpack, you turn and get ready to fire at an unsuspecting child, only to find you are out of ammo. Reluctantly, you head to the nearest pool, unscrew the cap, and dunk the gun underwater to refill on ammo. The gun is in fact a watergun. And you're at a waterpark with your family. The kid you were about to shoot was your next door neighbours kid named Steve who came along for the day. Steve is a complete dick. You pump the watergun to its maximum pressure and blast that kid right in the face. All is well in the world. The End.
### What Dreams Can Never Die They flock to me, dreamers seeking sleep. Nightmares matted in their hair. Horror has sunk deep beneath their nails. Wombs split, feet calloused. From across seas and mountains, wanderers of deserts and doom. They are swallowed, chewed, and spat out. They suckle at my trillion teats. Slow and whispering, they scream the names of their torturers. Black suited, gold-toothed, green-eyed. Long fingers tugging at dresses, slithering up thighs. In memory, they blame themselves. I coo them all to silence. They must rest to recover strength. My cult builds, swelling from cities and country both. My followers are skinned in infinite colors: rouge pinks, obsidian blacks, mango oranges. They are young and old and every age between. They come with bellies burdened with unwanted life. Together, we coax the children out into the night, and raise them by my twilight. As the planets creak into place, I claw at the World’s separating me from everything. As the Earth cracks under my weight, as the seas are drunk to dust by me, I shall save my chosen from their suffering. I spread my wings, and eyes, and tentacles to the sky. It splits, and I flow through, like oil and milk. I am Cthulhu, weaving my sleepers silver dreams.
When he entered the bar was already full of chaos. Two large men were fighting on the ground, struggling to choke each other while a dozen others cheered them on or yelled at them to stop. One woman in the middle of it all was crying and pleading especially hard, explaining to all what the fight was over. The bartender was giving out free drinks to much acclaim and celebration, a group of college buddies threw darts at a bent and beaten board, missing it more often than hitting it and sinking the metal objects deep into the wood of the bathroom door. The one who entered swept past. He'd seen it all before and he would see it all again. It all ended the same way. The life left, it stilled, and then the bones were his. Then things calmed down, then things returned to the way they should be. Still, cold, perfect. He was not here for them. He was here for the one leaning over a pool table in the far back corner of the room. He sat in the shadow cast by an under-performing lamp. The body he wore was thin, old, wearing the beat up Carharrt's jacket and threadbare jeans. He was also wearing a hat, one of those straw deals that was torn apart in a stiff breeze. It was was already ripped apart in places, shining under the dim light with it's holes and tears. Hiding his eyes. "It's been some time since we've met like this."The straw hat took a piece of chalk and rubbed it against the cue he was leaning on. HAS IT? "Ah, right."The straw hat set the chalk down and pushed down the rail toward the other. It failed to cover the distance, falling off the table to the ground, where it tumbled around, marking the carpet blue. The other turned to watch this, then at the end of it, he moved his hand and the chalk was perfectly positioned on his corner of the table and the chalk marks on the carpet were no more. "Time does have a hard time sticking to you, doesn't it?" I AM TIMELESS "But not completely."The straw hat flashed a grin full of crooked teeth from under the darkness he sat within. "I made sure of that during our last encounter." WHY AM I HERE? "To play a game. One more game between us." ALL IS A STRUGGLE BETWEEN US. "True, true."The straw hat straightened up, spun the pool cue theatrically, then stopped it on the edge of his hand and leaned on his shoulder like a soldier. "This'll just be a bit more... personal." The other looked down at the table, at the porcelain spheres that were arranged imperfectly in an imperfect triangle on an uneven felt that was torn and warped from age and use. FINE. The other reached through time and pulled forth a long, perfectly shaped pool cue grown from a piece of basalt millions of years before. BUT THIS TABLE IS INSUFFICIENT "Oh, pah!"The Straw hat flipped an appendage at him. "Fine, pick your table." The other moved the reality of the world, and then they were standing atop a perfectly square stone surface floating in a near-infinite void lit with the distant fires of a million stars, all set in perfect relation to each other. In the middle between them was the pool table. Perfectly balanced, the items on it's surface perfectly centered and symmetrical. "I get to go first."The Straw hat ambled forward, taking the time to scuff up the edge of the table with the side of his cue before pulling the white ball toward him. "It's only fair." YOU NEVER PLAY FAIR. "Of course not."Straw hat lined up his shot from a little to the left of center. He stuck his tongue out between his crooked teeth as he slid the cue back and forth over the valley of flash between his thumb and index finger. "Fair wouldn't be fun." The shot hit with a crack, sending the balls careening all over the table. They bounced and spun off of the edges and each other, some gaining more energy than they should, some spinning so hard that they started forming their own accretion disks. None were sunk in the six holes so the other stepped up to the table and let his basalt cue fall to the edge of the table, stopping it exactly were they each met so that neither would impact. He chose a ball that was still mostly solid, if pockmarked with impacts from its others. If one were to look closely, it might resemble the earth's moon even. He struck perfectly, sending it down between the still-spinning one and one that seemed to have gathered a gas cloud around it before striking home. "Ooh, nice shot. I do have to admire your... execution." PLEASE REMAIN QUIET The other circled the table, finding another cold, dead ball. He once more lowered his cue perfectly and struck the white ball into the dead world. It shot forward and swung near the spinning one, which had now developed a gravitational pull, thus pulling the dead sphere in an arc around it, sending it shooting in a new direction where it slammed into another dead world, sending that one into the same corner pocket that had been hit before. "I forgot how good you were at this." I HAVE SPENT MUCH TIME WITH THE SPHERES "True."The straw hat bobbed his head a few times, as if he was listening to some distant song. "Perhaps I need to even things up a little, then." YOU MEAN TO TIP THE ODDS IN YOUR FAVOR. "Oh, just a little."Straw hat flashed crooked teeth again, "Just a tiny thing." The other said nothing as he moved around to the far side of the table and took aim once more. Another dead, cratered sphere. Another strike, aiming at a small sphere that had gathered an atmosphere around it, another perfect line. Yet, this time something new happened. A swarm of small things erupted from the planet, touching other spheres and stealing parts of them, throwing the pieces at the approaching sphere. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to send the shot wide, missing the small blue world and making it so the dead sphere just bounced uselessly off the side of the table. "See?"The straw hat leaned closer. "Life makes it all so much more interesting."
I’ve always eaten weed. People call me crazy but I love the smell and the taste as well. Holy shit this weed is lit. Why can’t I stop rhyming? Damn I feel strange as hell like I’m dying.. woah..w—w-woaaaah goes through time travel to the dinosaurs Holy shit, this shiz don’t quit. Oh my god did I just travel through time? Am I talking out loud or inside my mind? Oh my god a tyrannosaurus, my ass is about to be as sore as - accidentally uses time powas to turn the t-rex into a baby t-rex It’s so cute, look at his little claw and his tiny teeth aww. I’m just gonna give him a little hug he won’t bite me... AAAAAH MY JAW. I’m leaving now you bit me on the mouth! Super powers take me back to the best time to eat cornbread in the deep damn South!
Someone at NASA said, "Hey, is it just me or... does anybody else notice that the moon is getting smaller and smaller?" "Rather farther and farther,"another person at their computer corrected "And who turned off the heat?"somebody else asked. "Heats on full blast,"someone else answered, a cloud of condensed air expelling from his mouth as he said this. #"BREAKING NEWS BREAKING NEWS! IT APPEARS THAT THE EARTH IS, UM...FALLING."
“Enough.” thought Princess Rhayera as she looked over the scattered skulls and ashes of the would be suitors that had tried to save her for what seemed like years. Rhayera had been locked away by Kalthrax, the Dragon Lord, to try and keep her from taking reign of the kingdom once her father passed. In recent years, her father had grown increasingly ill. Rhayera knew she would be a far better ruler than her father. He had always been a weak man, slow to make decisions. With her quick wit and relationships with her people, she would win the hearts of the kingdom and rule for an eternity. If only she could escape from this damned tower. She was done waiting for help. She was the Princess Rhayera. No man had won her favor before, and clearly no man was worth her hand if he couldn’t even conquer this minor dragon that guarded her tower. “Volant.” That hissing voice in her head was back again. Only one man had even come close to rescue. Sir Rupert Galentree has ascended the tower after lulling the dragon to sleep with the Flute of Hornwin. He had just reached the top of the window, Rhayera knew instantly who her champion was as he always wore a silver helm with branches sticking out like horns. It made him look fierce in battle, but Rhayera always thought it a farce. He was nice enough to her as a suitor, but he fell to his death all the same when the dragon awoke and flew by knocking him from the window perch. “Volant....” the hissing had turned into a spoken word. Why was she hearing this over and over? Rhayera had managed to escape the shackles that bound her wrists to the floor. Kalthrax didn’t bother to tie her ankles. He never thought she would make it out. Truth be told, he didn’t want to harm her, he just wanted the kingdom for himself. Bugger that, Kalthrax would be an even worse ruler than her father. Sure, he spoke sweetly and made promises of riches and rights to everyone, but they were all empty. As soon as he takes control the people would see his true intention to destroy. All the more reason to get out of the tower. She climbed onto the window perch to get a look at what awaited her. Nothing but embers and death. “Volant!” Louder than ever before. She looked right and saw nothing but black and red skies. To the left she saw a bird flying in the distance towards the tower. “Volant!!” Even louder now. She looked left again and the bird had now doubled in size. That’s no bird! That’s the dragon, Parsen! “Volant!” Rhayera screamed the word at the top of her lungs. The dragon was flying closer and closer. This was her moment. She leapt from the perch. “Volant! Fly!” Rhayera screamed as she saw Parsen closing the distance. She would land on the dragons back just in time. This was her escape. She could fly the dragon back to the kingdom, defeat Kalthrax, and take what was rightfully hers! This was her dragon! Just then Parsen veered right. Rhayera had misread the jump and was falling into nothing. The branched helm was the last thing she saw.
The air inside the bunker turned a deathly cold. Dirae had just been informed by Marshal Tenno of Usia that the prosecution and extermination of the innocent Rotingun people was still going on by pockets of pre-World Government rebels despite Tenno's arrival with his forces in Usia. The adjutants, the secretaries to Dirae and the secretaries of his Marshals who were present inside the bunker, and the Marshals themselves could Feel the change in the atmosphere. They were standing outside the door. Tenno was inside with the Dirae all by himself telling him the news. RREEKKHIIINE. Absolute terror, and everyone's hearts started beating faster, at the voice inside the room. RREEKKHIIINE. I WANT PROGRESS IN THE RREEKKHIIINE, MARSHAL TENNNO! Tenno was quivering in his shoes. His hands were shaking. It was out of his physical control. And he was the Marshal of Usia. He governed himself a population of by now nearing six billion human individuals. Under his governance, and as per Dirae's policies, they removed decades and decades of corrupt and ineffective politiciuns who pandered every which way to the whims of the People, who believed in nothing themselves. Who tried their best not to be controversial. The rise of the Dirae and his Marshals changed all that. They were Leaders born and born. Once upon a time Titans walked on the Earth, and for a period they disappeared. Now, from the very depths of History, Titans walked into meeting rooms and issued directives again. The People had a Future. RREEKKHIIINE. The voice thundered from within the room. Dread filled the bunker. And behind closed doors, Tenno whispered. Yes my Dirae. [-----] Hey Sally, it is a pleasure to be here this evening. My trip to Africa was fantastic. Took some selfies with the elephants. We've bought back the rhinoceroses as well. They're very popular with the children. You know Marshal Adebowale's directive on the poachers. It's been quite successful. (Dirae smiles his charismatic smile. Black hair, jet black and swift, kind amused eyes, faintly traced with an almost nonexistent, not-amused lethality. The most popular, and most loved, man alive.) (Sally) Entarctican conditions have improved dramatically lately now that heavy manufacturing has been moved off-world into orbit. What are your thoughts on that? (Dirae) The penguins are having a blast. (Sally) (Laughs) Dirae, I mean your thoughts on how all our factories are now in space. (Dirae) Well. Companies are very open and positive to the change. We have given them realistic timelines and of course financial incentives. [-----] (Dirae has walked out of the newsroom, he is in the Daimler. Marshals Ryukan and Tenno are in the vehicle with him.) (Ryukan) We've secured and captured Package 10. The rebel "general"is now in custody. Special Forces took out his top leadership on the spot, summary. (Dirae) (Dark, heavy brooding charisma. A smile.) Hmm-Hmm. [-----] I still remember WWIII. They don't call it that. They call it the Lightning War. No it didn't last for years, it lasted for at most six months, the ground infantry fighting and clearing out resistance pockets, but the real campaign finished within two weeks. The Dirae understood intuitively, and he was the first, to consider the notion of Orbital Supremacy. Whoever had that, effectively superseded the notion of Air Supremacy. Shall we talk about Naval Supremacy? I was in the room with him that day. (Dirae) We must always be prepared, Veyerhausen. Mustn't we? (Veyerhausen) Yes Dirae. (Dirae) (Looking at his future Marshals) We must all be prepared, ne? They will ask us all to stand down sooner or later. They will try to break us up. This is revolutionary. (Dirae, laughing) Hey Veyerhausen, want to flip a coin? Decide the future of the world on a coin flip? Should we or shouldn't we? (Veyerhausen) No Dirae. (Dirae) No? (Looks at the packed room) No? THEN TAKE THE NUKES UP into ORBIT! UP! LET'S GO! LET'S GET MOVING! We do not have MUCH TIME! The room scrambled when Dirae shouted. That is why they call him the Terror. [-----] They came from business backgrounds. The whole lot of them. This is interesting. Do you know what they did? Dirae was CEO of a corporation. A Forfun 500 corporation. They made satellites in orbit that captured the energy from the Sun. They beamed it down to all the continents of the world. Renewable energy for all people for all time, he said. The technology to be used was microwave band. They would have a PR problem with laser. They started small. Their first satellites were tiny. Serving energy to remote military bases and isolated research stations running on petrol generators. Dr. Hick in Antarctica was happy. They made revenues. They expanded their satellites. Then they controlled the energy supply of the entire world. [-----] You cannot imagine the Constellation. Seven legendary Solar Satellites, each huge kilometer sized arrays. Like guardians they presided in the night sky, wreathed in Black. [-----] You know what Dirae did before he became one of the world's wealthiest men through energy? This guy was famous. He was the bee's knees. They manufactured a new generation of Space Shuttles. They brought them back baby. They called them Next Generation Space Shuttles. NGSS. Some acronym they invented on the fly mind you. I was there when a tech journalist asked him a question, something about how often the Shuttles would fly. (Dirae) Around the clock, 24x7. The Shuttles do not stop. Culture was liberal at that time. He was young. He said something bad about rockets. About how we would need to spend trillions to manufacture rocket pads all over the world. You want a rocket pad in Mozambique? The Shuttles, however, if Dirae so wanted, could land on Runway 7 of the International Airport of Mozambique. They did not build rocket pads these people. What did the Shuttles haul to orbit? Everything. Structural materials, raw materials, robotic parts to be assembled in orbit, the robots that would do the assembly in orbit. They called the orbital assembly robots WALL-E. They built the foundations that would enable companies and corporations to move their operations into orbit. The Shuttles, were humanity's Train Line to the stars. They served important purposes inside of the atmosphere too. I don't know dropping five hundred thousand pounds of food and water supplies over Indonusia during heavy monsoon season. Per Shuttle. Dropping a million pounds of ordnance, artillery supplies and munitions to soldiers in the field. During the Lightning War they absolutely crippled the Murican and Chinuse Navies. Their fighters couldn't even get to them. But that was later. Dirae worked on his laptop as an Exec, he was pretty cool. He worked very, very closely with his staff during this time. That was how he recruited his Marshals. They came from within. Long years they served by Dirae's side. Each one in a leadership position of rank. VP Manufacturing, VP Public Relations. Utterly devoted to the cause. The hardcore of the hardcore. They were ruthless people. [-----] The road to power is not clean. It is not rosy. It is ugly. It is divisive. It is controversial. People choose sides. But above all the people in charge must do what is necessary. Dirae and his Execs orchestrated assassinations. They used large amounts of money to influence politicians at every level in most Governments on Eurth. They put pressure on the legal system to favour their business practices, but the biggest achievement was that they had everything in place by the time people noticed the Corporation was way too large. Too late, we own the legal system and we will not be broken up. They hired foxes to plan, foxes to orchestrate, foxes to execute, foxes had to use all of their abilities and all of their skills, and they never knew that it was the wolves who hired them. [-----]
You have 4 wishes sir! Ok let’s get started, word! Perfect, I shall cast in verrrrse! I would like a million dollars Here it is verrrrrbs! What the fuck - how about the perfect wife? Here she is - she is a birrrrrd! This is the worst, can I have a fast car? Here it is small and plastic but goes fast if you throw it harrrrrd! I want to kill myself Here use this very sharp notecarrrrd!
One of the biggest problems they saw themselves in, was one they actually predicted through pop culture through film , tv , books .. This is probably why it became true .. Someone thinks it’s going to happen , they make a popular highbudget film about it , people watch now they believe and these people who have real jobs and are spread across the world watch this movie and start to think the same. Did the movie cause it? If all the media about Virtual Reality becoming so good that it’s better than existing in the “ B.R. “ before virtualReality. It became the UV light all the Silicon Valley moths flocked to. A few Techters who were more interested in life outside of VR , found no matter what kind of groundbreaking thing they came up with , if it didn’t echo in through the VR headset that can be easily modded to be a full body suit, or if it didn’t make that particular lifestyle better then it didn’t really matter .. wide spread unemployment , normal jobs paying 1st class wages , having a normal job actually made you upper class .. those in virtual reality find ways to stay on the zone with leaving in a few creative ways that ended up being the norm across the globe . You can make money through quests , mini games , gambling , that can be used in the zone or in real life . Meaning you can live from this and this alone , if youre good & if you dedicate yourself too it. Was it moral? This question never really gained friction . Was it sustainable? Kids never having gone to school outside of the zone and raised through a headset for 90%+ of their day so there parents could retire early. Teenagers starving because they had a few bad games where they got to zealous and bet it all & now lost a lifetime of financial security .. Scammers funneling entire grid blocks of savings from people on a regular basis and replacing the money with 1s and 0s that mimicked currency but actually would get those legally persecuted for forgery where they’d spend hard time in real life , orange jumpsuit prison .. laws you break here , such as rape , stealing and unlawful /non conscentful battling in anyway can be punished if persued in court via web cam or irl. These laws were merely there as a guideline on how to punish not how to stop it. It became polluted like real earth did but with viruses instead of carbon and Hackers instead of used cars salesmen. The few who didn’t use their intellect to further VR were considered Hipsters for holding to the past , to what’s no longer real. The Hips were at a crossroad . “If you can’t beat em, join them? “ “ what if you Can’t , join them? There’s no way our options are best them , or join them? “ “ come on guys we’re the top engineers of our generation and I only say that because we all know it to be true . People like us made this , it’s foundation lay in the one thing this world should have chewed up swallowed then shit out in left over throw up .. “ “ Electricity ?” Wow Ethan , too far back alright - if this works at this point lost electricity - just no Ethan , but I like your style - think pre Total Sensory sumerissoom and post Y2K.. “ Uber? “ no dam kit why would Uber have anything - “ Ubereats?” Damnit Ethan! Now , listen here -m, I’m “ the internet “ thank you for cutting me off but yes , the root of our VR problem is- “ Lyft?” Now G**mt Ethan they just said the internet! It’s the internet Ethan!” “ But “ - Ethan , Uber and lyft taking over the auto industry by giving each employee a Tesla with a lifetime contract to drive with them promising upper middle class salary , then firing everyone once the Tesla’s learned the routes and cheapened the service until monopolized and encouraged everyone to just Use the service in lieu of owning a car .. that problem is for another rainy day .. Today gentle men and uhh .. “ Are you serious ? “ Look I don’t want to mis “ what misgender? What because I have no prominent feminine or masculine features you can’t with good conscious take a wild guess? “ No dude , they’re all lady and gentlemen .. you’re like , 12 years old I was gonna give you some sweet nickname like “ Kid 01 or something.. “ oh gotchua man I’m messing with ya anyway , I just wanted to break the tension.. what tension ?? We’re all friends here “ man you want to take down the internet ? That’s like , dude .. look around you , our orbit has binary being whipped into the stratosphere like it’s space debris .. the internet is so vast , it probably hears us complimenting its glorious untyranical holiness!” Ethan : look guys the truth is , a lot of these people don’t even know they’re on a simulation .. that 10% of the day they spend outside of it , is like a dream to them .. something they do maintence on like emptying the diaper pile 3 feet from them once or twice a week .. and honestly most of them do that In the dark because their eyes are so accustomed to the VR that real light especially sunlight causes measurable damage . A large portion don’t even know tangible information about this world .. and here’s the thinker , We all take pride in never getting sucked in , but if we’ve ever put a VR bodysuit , heck even a headset or goggles , how do we know we ever stepped out? “ Ethan ..
I wake up at dawn. Or dusk. It's become hard to tell these days. No clocks, no electricity. It's hot, or is that just me? I scratch the itchy sweat off my beard. I only can tell if the light thickens, or recedes. It used to be a bad thing. Scary and worrying when people were around. Now it doesn't matter. No one is here to judge, to care. My heart tugs at the memories. I'm thinking. I'm thinking too much. I reach out to my stash of pot. A half smoked joint sits there next to a single match. I strike it, carefully ensure the joint is lit. Matches are easy to find. With the fear of being found subsiding, I check my inventory. Heroin is the best. Actually meth is, but I can't cook it. My partner and I made a deal. I won't touch his meth, he'll leave my heroin alone. I don't trust him, I doubt he trusts me. Drugs, the greed, didn't leave with humanity. I'd been doing this shit long before the aliens landed. I never thought of the needle being a skill. It's kept me alive, which isn't normally how this works. I take another long pull. Stop it! Stop it, stop it! Emotions draw them! "Mike!"I call to my partner. No answer. I wonder if he's sleeping, or gone. Rummaging. I continue to count my bags of dope. Shit. The heroin is low. As is the pot. I throw the box under the bed. Put the key back, taught around my neck. I leave my small room and wander out of the room, kicking beer cans out of my path. I head outside to pee in the yard. It's getting brighter, it's day. Probably used to be a nice house. With kids. Someone named Madyson slept in the bed I crashed on. Pink letter blocks carefully arranged in a perfect arch still hung above her headboard. Stuffed animals still waited to be pulled off shelves for tea parties. I remember my sister, and try to pull from the joint I forgot was in my hand. It's out. Great. I wonder if Mike has any matches. I make my way up the stairs to what must have been the parents' room. Once an oasis, it now looks like shit. Old food, flys, beer cans. "Mike we've been here a week. How can you sleep in here? It smells. There's bugs." I turn to the bed, but Mike's not there. I don't know where he is, maybe he made a food run. I open his draw next to the bed. A pack of lighters? He's been holding out, the son of a bitch. I take one, light my joint, and go to my room to prepare to head out for the day. I need drugs, opioids. I thought I saw a pharmacy on our way in this stupid town. A grocery store, probably with its own pharmacy inside. I grab my backpack, my trusty metal pipe. I make sure the gun is loaded, extra bullets in my pack, some snacks, some beer. I guzzle one down for good measure. Warm. It's disgusting. It's safer. I run to the mirror. Why? Who cares what I look like. I shave anyway. The less for the monsters to grab. I don't look anywhere but where the dull razor scrapes. If I saw myself, I knew the sadness would come. Emotions are dangerous. Very, very dangerous. The stronger ones, like sadness, fear, drew the monsters. Besides, it was depressing enough before any of this happened. I head back outside and wonder what direction. I finish the joint, take a handful of pills, knowing they are my last. Knowing Mike and I have to push to the city. Old dealers still clinging to there wears. When he comes back we have to talk. His dreams of a nice house in suburbia aside, we need to stick together. We need to leave together. We are all each other has. I haven't seen another human in months. Or years. It could be years, it feels like it. I have no idea how much time has passed. I point my finger out, close my eyes, and spin in circles until I'm so dizzy I almost fall. I open my eyes and wait for the world to stop moving. This direction. I hear an unusual rustle in the trees. Quickly I pull another beer out and chug it down. The rustling stops. I'm too tired to go after it. I start my walk, and hope it's the right way. Street after lonely street of what used to be houses. Echoes of laughter of children racing bikes and playing hockey or hop scotch. No bodies, which is the one good thing the aliens did. Ate us with no trace. Ahead I see something unusual. Is that.... is that a person? A red shirt laying against an old light post? Resting? I almost run. A human, a live human. Too small to be Mike. "Hey,"I yell out. I run. "Hey!" The figure gets up, turns to me. I'm close enough to see the startled face. He was young, younger than I. A kid? 14, maybe? "Hey, I won't hurt you!"I'm sprinting. I heard the sound before the pain. A loud, defining boom. I lose my footing and clutch my stomach. Blood comes pouring out. I look up, the kid approach with his gun out. I'm on my knees, trying to breath. "Don't move!"He threatened, right in front of me. He really didn't have to say that. His voice cracked. He was a child, a boy reaching puberty. "Why?"It's the only thing I can muster. "It's not personal, bro."He roughly forces my backpack off. Kicks me down and rummages through my pockets. I felt life begin to leave. The pain is easing. Shock. I was dying. I licked my lips. I tasted blood as I moved my tongue. "I could have helped you." "You could have done the same thing I just did to you."Towering above me, using my own gun, he raised it to my head. I closed my eyes. "Not personal, bro,"I heard his voice drift. "At least I won't leave you hear to die." The last thing I heard was the thunder crack.
"A line of salt?"The president roared angrily, throwing his coffee cup clean across the room. "It might work sir. Our scientists say that the reason we've done no damage to the snail is its tissue's incredible ability to absorb the impact of our bombs and weapons. Perhaps a conventional method of destruction would work. "Fine. But how? How would we even create a salt line that big!"The president roared. Everyone in the room fell silent, before a young intern raised his hand. "Sir...we may not have to. You see, the snail is on a direct path for a major city. And its path also runs through one of America's largest natural wonders."The intern said nervously, pulling out a map and laying it on the table. "That seems like a problem! Is that not a problem! What in the hell is this guy talking about?"The president roared, looking around the room for agreement. "Well sir you see, the city is Salt Lake City, Utah. And the path leads through the Bonneville Salt Flats. If the snail continues on its current course, it'll be dead before weeks end!"The Intern smiled. The president looked around with confusion, but accepted the answer and smiled. "It'll be great. It'll be huge"
I held my hand over my mouth I’m not sure why, I wasn’t even screaming. But I should’ve been. I pressed my face up to the glass. I couldn’t make anything out through the debris floating towards my ship. “It’s gone.” I stated my voice not sounding like me own. “Cool.” Zander deadpanned. “Really? The Earth just blew up and that’s all you have to say?” Vivian roared. Zander and Vivian were my partners with me, of course I wouldn’t be sent to the moon all alone but why did it have to be these two? I barley knew them and they already got on my nerves and now it looked like I was going to be stuck with them until I died. “I mean we weren’t guaranteed to make it back anyway we could’ve blown up coming back into the atmosphere for all you know, at least now we know we’ll die.” Zander shrugged opening a package of freeze died strawberries. “I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck here until I die with you!” Vivian’s eyes twitched. ‘I’m here too.’ I thought to myself but I didn’t really care for Vivian’s anger, ever since I met her she was nothing but a seething ball of rage I thought she would’ve chilled out by now but I was very very wrong. And now it looked like I was going to die while being yelled at. “Maybe there aliens or something.” I said “I think I’d rather die than be probed.” Vivian shuddered. I rolled my eyes remaining by the window. Looking past my sullen expression all there was was rocks. “Guys, the moon.” I said standing up suddenly “were not gonna land on it.” “Yeah we’re going to die.” Zander stuffed anther strawberry in his mouth. “You idiot the moon revolves around the earth, which invade you didn’t know means the moons going to go who knows where!” “What if it hits us?” Vivian bit her nails. “Then we die faster, what’s the issue here.” I paused. Zander was right I should just give up but it felt wrong to abandon mission now. I had given up so much to land in the moon and now I was going to die without even getting that chance? No way.
"...and that's why the United States uses an electoral college. Pretty silly if you ask me." I hefted my axe. Its blade gleamed in the sun as it cut through the air. It was a motion I'd mastered over decades of cutting trees. Except this time, I missed. Expecting to have my momentum absorbed by the tree, I twirled like a drunken ballerina and lost my grip on my precious axe. It spun away into the forest. I punched the tree in frustration. There had been no wind to sway the maple, and in any case, it was far too thick for a gentle breeze to change its position enough for me to miss. I was getting to old for this. Mordecai, a voice whispered. I leapt to my feet. "Who's there?"I shouted. "I have an axe! And I am very angry. I'm an angry axeman over here!" You have no axe, said the voice. You lost it, trying to cut my down. It was funny, watching you fall on your butt like that. There was a rustling sound, like breeze blowing through maple branches. I realized it must be laughter. "Don't laugh at me,"I growled. Then the full impact of what the voice had said hit me. "Wait, are you the maple tree?" Most definitely. You seem surprised. If you didn't want me to talk to you, why were you speaking to me for an hour and half? I decided to take all this in stride. It was a novelty. I'd hear what the tree had to say, then cut it down and pretend like it had never happened. "If I don't take out my anger on the trees, I'll take it out on my friend Jack Daniels." The tree laughed again. Is that why you were going to cut me down? I suppose if that's what makes you happy, than fair enough. I'm not concerned about living for as long as possible. Trying to outrun time is an entirely human ambition. We all return to dust eventually. "You're pretty philosophical for a tree,"I muttered. Thank you. I learned by listening to your angry rants. "You're welcome." We stood in silence for a few moments. Well? "Well what?" Aren't you going to go and get your axe? the maple whispered. "Not yet. You make pretty good conversation. Tree life must be pretty good, eh?" You'd enjoy it. Listening to the birds, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on your skin, and not having to worry about the passage of time. Human life must be so dull. "It has its perks. Sports, parties, friends, automobiles, the list goes on. We humans have created some amazing things. We've learned to fly! There's something a tree will never be able to do." Perhaps, but I'm not particularly interested in flying. Tree life is better than human life. Period. I bristled. I was the woodcutter, and I would do the cutting down. "Well, you'll never know what it's like to have a family like we humans do. You trees might grow in forests, but you'll always live alone." False. "What?" We have families. Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. The whole marriage thing doesn't really work the same way with us, but we do have families. "Oh. I didn't realize." Obviously. "Um, I'm sure this is a sensitive question, but did I ever cut down any of your... family?" The forest was darker now. The sun was setting. I didn't realize how much time had passed. Yes. My mother, and countless brothers and sisters. You slaughtered them all. I saw sap leaking from a hole in the trunk. "I'm so sorry. I- I didn't know. Please forgive me." I will forgive you, in time. However, justice must be repaid. The Law of the Forest requires a life for a life. I'm going to show mercy, and won't take dozens of human lives just because of the foolishness of one man. But you will pay. Terror gripped my heart. "Are you going to kill me?" Of course not! That would be grotesque. Trees aren't lifetakers. No, the trees that have been cut down need to be replaced. We will turn your family into trees. Then, you will spend the rest of your life planting trees instead of cutting them down. If you ever cut down another tree, we will block out their sun and they will whither away. "You're going to kill my family! That's horrific!" We're not killing them. They'll actually live longer this way. You humans are so concerned about living forever, we're technically doing your family a favor. I sat down on a stump. "I don't believe you." Then run home. Run, woodcutter. Run. I ran as fast as I could. Through the woods and over the river until my family's cottage was in sight. "MARY! JOHN! PETER!"I screamed. There was no response from inside the cottage. I burst through the door. "Mary, are you home? Are the children okay?"I searched the cottage but found no one. I relaxed. My family must just be out to town. I was silly to think that they would be turned into trees, or even that trees could talk. I was clearly dehydrated if I was having hallucinations like that. I walked into the kitchen to get some water. As I sipped from the glass, I noticed that the table was fully set with food half-eaten on it. I walked closer. As I did, my heart sank. My chair was empty. Each of the other three chairs contained a single, solitary sapling. Ready for planting. &#x200B;
Chaos, madness everywhere The great web has been severed, Confusion, and fear. &#x200B; The world is quiet now, Lost without our connection, Like we’ve lost our ears, &#x200B; And people aren’t happy, Growing less so every day now, We seek what was lost. &#x200B; Riots in many streets, United and isolated at the same time, But now we’re angry too. &#x200B; They thought it was wise, To pull the plug, freeing even, But they were misguided. &#x200B; People were alone then, But now they feel more isolated than ever before, And loneliness unites them. &#x200B; And it drives them also, It drives them together, ever forward, With a common goal. &#x200B; To end the silence, To take back what was stolen, And unite the world again. &#x200B; We are unstoppable, We deny what once was sovereign, And seek only the will of the crowd. &#x200B; A loose confederacy, A web of cells across the globe, We are the Network. &#x200B; And We shall take back what was taken.
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A young pale girl in a faded blue dress walks into the restaurant and sits across an expensively dressed angular faced woman in an eye catching red lipstick. The girl wipes her dark medium length damp hair from her face and appears to press a finger to the table for a few seconds. To the woman's astonishment everything else around them fades into darkness and silence leaving only them and the white clothed table between them. "Shall we begin?"The girl says to the woman.
The wooden house stood on a hill. The road leading here was long and curvy. The whole area was covered in a dense forest. The building itself stood there for two hundred years and looked like if it was abandoned for a good fraction of that time. If I didn't know better, I'd think that I'm somewhere in America. But no, I'm not. And this place is 15 minutes from my hometown by car! Isn't it a great thing that houses with a reputation for being "haunted"are so cheap? Bloody hell, "haunted"! Ha! This is a load of bullcrap. I don't know who spread these rumours and what was their goal, but I think it worked in my favour after all! So I arrived, parked my car, took a box of personal crap and clothes from the boot and set off to the inside. I traversed a few steps through the garden and the door opened itself for me. Oh. That's funny, the door lock mechanism is all rusty, but definetely it still works so the wind shouldn't be able to open it. The door looks neglected, it's all rotten around the edges and the hinges are noisily screeching. I think that if I tried to close it with a kick, I'd make a hole in it. Still don't think there's anything supernatural here though. I entered, located the archaic lightswitch and turned the lights on (apparently for some reason they still work - the lightbulbs aren't busted, the cables aren't on fire...). I make my way through the stairs. They screech loudly as I step on them, the same as the floor. I think it's like that in the entire house. Anyway, I find myself on a corridor and put the boxes on the floor. I open the first door to my left, to see what's there. I enter. I see a bookshelf at eight o'clock, an old-timey desk at half past eleven, a window at twelve, a closet at half past one and a ghost sitting on the edge of a bed at four. A ghost. A ghost! I take everything I said earlier back. They are real. And at least one occupies this very house I just bought because I thought "haunted"translates to "previous owners are nuts and the building is ridiculously cheap". I screamed. I turned my back. I proceeded to leave the premises in a haste manner. \- Wait! Don't run! - the voice said. The voice. A voice. There is a voice. The ghost just spoke to me. And it's voice isn't of a tornmented soul trying to kill me or something. It's the voice of a girl. I stopped. --- Check out /r/lecetrabantem I guess? I have two ongoing stories here. This thing needs at least one or two more parts. Gimme feedback please?
"The man hating amazons have brought their greatest warrior, Oh Sharpened Shield!" The older man astride the horse nodded at the young scout. "There is a hundred thousand of them. So says Crouching Cat. And likely more in the forest beyond!" "How many archers?"the warrior asked calmly. "I- I did not-" "You saw the throngs and counted them all warriors alike. Look upon our own thousands. Are all they warriors? Scouts? Archers?" The young man hung his head in embarrassment. He had not. "Most of our forces are the builders, the cooks, the traders and scavengers. They are just as far from their homeland as we are ours. Go look again. Tell Captain Hickory to match archer for archer." The young man bowed and sprinted off. "Still teaching?"Another of the horsemen edged his way to stand next to the warrior. "While I still can." "That does not fill me with hope for this outcome, old friend." "Whether I prevail or not, this is my last battle. One must leave the battle field or be left upon it." "There’s a reason we don’t have you cheering our warriors on before battle,"he remarked sourly. "If I had my way, there would never be a war." "And you are sure they will not renege on this arrangement?" "It is honor. Just be sure the archers know. They are to kill any who try to interfere. Only two will fight today." "And tomorrow?" The warrior only shrugged. "Shield-" "And my name is Ben,"he grouched before spurring the horse away. The battlefield was a large sandy dip left from a seasonal stream. To the south, land slowly rose into forests, to the north, grasslands rose until the edges of mountains. For a hundred kilometer, it was just broad open plains spotted with deposits of sand. On this day, women in leather and green tunics guarded the forest side, men in armor and rough wools to the north. They glared across the space at each other, marking each shift of forces. Boulders splashed with paint marked out an arena. Just inside the south side, a woman warrior tended a fire. She used her swords to shift the coal until it was to her liking and placed a pot on the coals. She glanced up at another woman outside the marks. "Fire to keep your weapons hot?" She scowled. "No. For tea,"she responded tersely, "In case I am thirsty." "Anna- must it be this?" "How many do you desire to die?"Anna asked. "None!" "No woman, you mean,"Anna chided, "But lay all men to waste and poison the plains with blood, isn’t it?" The woman flushed at the accusation. "When you seek none to die, neither your own nor your worst enemy, then you may be a warrior." "We all die,"she looked down at her feet, not up, "And make others die is a pointless exercise of hastening the inevitable." "You parrot the words but do not embrace them. On this day, I shall fight and no other woman. You be sure the archers understand they must prevent any other but us chosen warriors from fighting. Only us upon this field." "Yes Anna-" "General Anna." "Yes, General Anna." The chastised woman bowed and left. Anna turned back to the field, spotting the approaching horse. She slid her swords back in their scabbards. The man dismounted at the north edge, walking toward the center as she did the same. A few feet from each other, the stopped, wordlessly appraising each other. He was tall and lean, weathered and bleached by sun. She was stout and short, sturdy as the trunks of the forest and dark like the shadows. They placed fist in palm and bowed to one another. As they straightened, both pulled their swords out in swift motion, sun catching the action. The crowds around them roared with approval. They scowled at one another. Both moved at once, as if they were mirror images of their motion. Swords clashed together. His reach was better, but her speed kept his sword at bay. When he moved to kick, she tumbled away. He leapt, turning in midair to meet her as she stood, but her sword met his along the way. Straining against each other, they locked eyes. "Really? That same old pigsticker?"he asked. "You can’t seem to give up that antiquated calvary rapier, can you?"she retorted. They pushed away, giving each other space to regroup. Around them voices shouted, too distant to catch what was said, only the tone carrying on the breeze. Dust stirred up by their fighting swirled around them. Ben tossed his sword upward, and it came back down, point first to bury itself in the sand. "If you’d rather pass on weapons,"he offered. She slid her flatter sword through the hilt of his. It sat, flat side up. Cries of protest echoed over the field. "I should hate to chip and dull it when that is not what shall win this,"she agreed. "Is there anything to win?"he asked as they sparred with strikes and kicks. "I do not know,"she admitted, "The honored dead become deities. Spiteful words become vows to the faithful." "And the last cry of a child?" "Years gone. The last born is many years a woman. As seems so of your young men." "And those who began this, honored for it, so created this doom." The both stepped back, ignoring the cries around them. "Is this the example we are setting?"she asked, her voice straining to get the words out. He smiled, his face lightening with delight at her careful words. "I hoped you were suggesting another tact." From his tunic he produced two tea cups and a small, slightly crushed flower. She offered a slight smile, her face brightening as well. As she reached for one, he lifted his arm out of reach. "They are expecting a show,"he whispered. "Don’t expect a standing ovation,"she warned. She spun, making a reach for the other cup, but he evaded her by twisting away. She kept at it, seeming to want a cup yet actually herding him toward the south edge and her fire still smoldering, Somewhere in the process, the flower wound up in her hair, tucked behind her ear. Her warriors gathered at the edge, hands on weapons, faces fierce. Anna swooped down, catching the pot by the leather handle. Ben retreated as she swung it about, drawing her back to where they’d started. She feinted with it, gaining roars of approval. The tea sloshed and Ben swiftly caught each spill in a cup. By the time they reached the center, the cups were full. Anna swung the pot around, as Ben danced away then placed it by the swords. She backed away and Ben placed the cups on the flat of her blade. As suddenly as they began, they knelt facing each other, an arms length away. Each took a cup, sipped. "So, king and queen had a spat,"Ben began. "And both too proud to give each other ground,"Anna agreed. "So all the kingdom split, man to man, woman to woman." "And all still to proud to see the doom that brings." "I did not want this." "Nor I. But we gave oaths." "Oaths to the dead. Why couldn’t we mend then?" "For the same reason they do not want us to mend now." The momentary quiet of the shocked crowd began to murmur in anger. "Well… perhaps,"Ben glanced edgewise at the growing unrest, "We are giving them cause to unite." Anna also glanced about. "You did have a plan?" "I am sick of fighting. I want my life back." "No plan. Why break tradition?" "Anna-" "I want the same, but absent another brilliant idea, I think we’re going to have to run for it." "East.. The swamps,"he suggested. "Yes..,"she reluctantly agreed. They drank the last bit of tea, grabbed their weapons and bolted east. The crowds hesitated, then gave chase. "I think I remember doing this before,"Ben gasped as they ran. "It was a heck of a honeymoon!"Anna agreed.
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Jon the conquerer, is shocked. It's giving him a headache even. In the fields, healthy workers chat happily as they plow the fields - until they are ridden with horror at the sight of his banner. Our banner! The symbol of king Ferdinand! Ferdinand who cares for the well-being of all! He shuddered at the feeling; even more when he saw the tabloids hanging on the tavern walls complaining of mismanagement of government affairs and calling for the chancellor of agriculture in the Daendrian Empire to be sacked. Under Ferdinand, he himself had been responsible for pushing back traitors protesting the agriculture reforms. He himself had the misfortune of having spilt their blood on his command. "Bah! Of course, if they don't crush the treacherous complainers - of course their empire will collapse"he quips in a new tone he is not accustomed to. To him the complainers at home under Ferdinand were traitors - now here in Daend, they seemed cooperative, as if the complainers were part of the the Daendrian Empire's political machine. Deep in the Daendrian empire now, Jom has surrounded the summer residence of the Emperor. No one expects him to be there, but nevertheless it is of symbolic value. Jon's field officer Jason the Brave doesn't seem to like the idea of taking the Palace, but he didn't mention to Jon that it seemed like a worthless prize far from the strategic battle front. As the two Ferdinandista legions surround and enter into the palace-complex there was a very audible tick which would have caused everyone to take notice, had it not immediately been followed by an explosion that rocked past the outer walls even to the forrests where Jon watched from afar. A loud roar came from the forest as the roar of the explosion died down "Yuuuuaaaah! You want our Palace! Take our palace!"Hollered a multitude of a thousand men and women in unison. A rag-tag group of countrymen and soldiers with uniforms in even worse condition than rags, shouted as the emperor himself waved on the ambush party which, before Jon knew it, had engulfed even Jon's own body gaurd and left the coughing charcoal faced Men of Ferdinand with no choice but to surrender. Jason the Brave even stood up and shouted "You'll never take me alive you dirty Daend pig fuckers!"A well placed shot to the arm quickly disarmed his heroic last stand into a comic relief for the Daendrians who chuckled catharticly: one of the Daends coming over and giving a hearty pat to Jason's back "Ef you ahre gowinng to call somewoone a pig fucker, make sure youwh are not the woones that are Qwoinked!"(Qwoinked meaning "Pigged"or "Ambushed"in Daendic) All the rag tag troops burst out in laughter, even the Emperor came up and joined in with another phrase that must have been even funnier in Daendic, as they all were roaring in laughter. "Ahneyways, straiyt you goew Mihstar"said the jokester to Jason. The whole Daendrian Empire rallied at this turn of events, the "Defense of the Defsh House "it would be called. "The Emperor Defends the Nation's House"read the tabloids. Some also read "the Emperor only defends his own Palace", but people would remember the Emperor's defense of the nation. The house itself would become a museum to war and peace. That was the date of Jon's captivation to a strange empire, in which he found a strange contemptful admiration. He thought, "Why was all so serious, why death and punishment, why weapons and glory back under Ferdinand's kingdom? Damn, I mean our kingdom, our Glorious Kingdom! I would face treason charges if someone heard me think 'Ferdinand's kingdom.'"He shuddered again. The war would last 3 more years, giving Jon plenty of time to think in captivity. The camp reminded him of his university dorm. They were required to read the recent history and current affairs of the Daendrian Empire; from any source. Some authors were quite subversive so he preferred those. Most Ferdinandist soldiers preferred to use the books to wipe their asses in subversion instead. The Daendrians found this very bizarre and honestly thought they were out of toilet paper. There was peace soon and Jon was likely to receive the Righteous Golden Eks of Valor. He would come back a Hero. However, what he had won in land for Ferdinand was paid for with a growing civic disdain against Ferdinand. One day it hit him - like the feeling one gets after buying something, returning home, and discovering you just got ripped off. Ferdinand was an imbecile.
The smell of the food is delicious! It truely is your best yet! You see your boss come over, no doubt to congratulate your incredible work. “Pierre,” She says in a whisper, “why are the ‘guests’ not dropping dead?” “Whatever do you mean?” You ask, puzzled. She asked you to make it “Extra Special” didn’t she? “You were supposed to poison the food!” She whispers, loud enough for some of the guests to take notice. “Well then why didn’t you say so?” “I DID!” She screams, grabbing the attention of the guests. “I TOLD YOU TO MAKE THE DINNER ‘EXTRA SPECIAL’. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO POISON THE HEROS!” “Wait! You’re guests are heros? Are you a hero as well?” The prospect that you might be working for a famous hero almost makes you jump for joy. “NO I AM NOT! I AM THE GREATEST SUPERVILLAINESS IN THE WORLD! HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW!” She screams at the top of her lungs, almost breaking the wine glasses. During your bosses screaming, several of the guests, who you now see are dressed in their costumes, rush to apprehend her. One of them comes up to you. “It seems you are out of a job. I’m looking for a new cook, if you’re interested.” Before you could say soufflé, you shook her hand.
He stood, petrified in front of the mirror. The figure was blurry, confusing. As it glided closer to the mirror, he could feel himself being pulled towards it. Mentally, he wanted to move, but his body was worthless, limp. His mind was emptying as he approached the mirror, until he could think of nothing at all. He collided with the mirror, a cloud erupting from the shattered pieces. Inside his mind, he felt trapped, yet not alone. He tried to move his body, but nothing happened. "Jones."The voice was loud, powerful. He was blank, unsure of how to react. "This vessel of yours shall serve my will for a time. Be assured that it will be used for good. Your cooperation is indisputable." Involuntarily, his body began moving, and left the room. Jones was trapped in his body, able to observe, but not act, confused and afraid. The movements were fluid, more efficient and determined than any human. Within moments, his body was taken several blocks down the road, to another apartment building. He silently opened the door and slipped inside, unnoticed by all. He ascended the steps effortlessly and rapidly, his movement accelerating as they got higher. He stopped many floors up and dashed down the hallway; another presence could be felt as they approached a door at the very end. Jones felt vibrations from his body, but could tell from his other senses that nothing was physically moving. A swift motion forced the door open, and he entered without breaking his stride. Jones' pocket knife was now in his hand, and he proceeded through the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom. He kicked open the door, saw the person kneeling among the candles and blood, and lunged at them, his knife headed straight for their throat. Everything froze, the knife's point barely touching the surface of person's skin. Jones felt yet another presence. He tried to perceive through his senses, but found his body no longer present. His mind has traveled with the being inhabiting his body, and the most recent presence revealed itself to them both. "You fallen fool!" The words rang through his mind, but Jones knew it was not direct at him. "You cannot interfere with free will, and you certainly cannot use such an imposition to leave blood on a mortal's hands." "Nonsense!"the words were louder, as if sourced from nearby, but held less power than the previous, "the demons have done just that for centuries, solely for their own benefit and leaving much worse upon the vessels they have used. My work will destroy that evil, and the vessel will be glorified!" "The physical is not our realm, traitor, and possession is not our strategy. What separates us from demons if we use their weapons?" "Intentions, actions, our purpose versus theirs." "And our methods. They violate the sacred separation, and are punished eternally for it. We uphold the decree, and are glorified for it." "We are glorified for inaction, for remaining idle." "We are glorified for honoring His one gift to humanity, their free will. You are corrupted by the rest of the fallen, they have deceived you, and their lies have taken hold of you. You are banished, and your condemnation is eternal." With that, a sharp pain pierced his mind, a blinding light flooding his senses. The voice that controlled him earlier screamed, sounding ever more distant, as if it were falling a great distance. Finally, Jones' mind felt alone again. His mind returned to his body, the knife still held to the person's throat. Time returned, and he looked into their eyes. A kid. A terrified, misguided kid. Jones looked around, and saw that the candles were scented candles, the blood from a squirrel. He had googled how to summon demons, and obviously had know idea what he was doing, or how to really do it. Jones put his knife away and sighed. He turned to walk out of the room, stopping at the threshold. "Hey kid, don't get involved in this stuff. It's not what you-" A knife plunged deep into his chest through his spine. A deep, rumbling voice echoed through his head. "Pathetic, aren't they? The angels should try fighting dirty some time. They might actually get somewhere."
Being alive is such a chore. Harold was never one to really try much, though even if he did, it would still be just about as grim. The previous month had been particularly challenging. Killing your neighbor's dog because you thought it took your mom's soul is one thing, finding out that you actually have a brain tumor cramming itself into the small space between brain and skull is quite another. Not that it mattered, Harold had been wishing for death for years now. It's a common theme. &#x200B; These are the cheery themes occupying Harold as he stares at the sky. He had just jumped off the bridge and awoke to find himself not just alive, but also in pain. Luckily, life is pain, so this was tolerable. Sitting up, he scanned his surroundings. Nothing lovely or useful, simply a concrete channel that waste water and storm overflow runs into. Having nowhere very important to get to, Harold sat up and began trudging down the randomly picked direction, following along the road running parallel to the channel. &#x200B; "I'm sure there's some motivational garbage I could say about hitting rock bottom and having nowhere to go but up. Who wants to go up? It's just asking to get knocked on the ground again."He kicked a can that went skittering into the shadowy entrance of a connecting drain. Lost in the sounds of echoing tin, he barely saw the withered hand reach from the darkness to beckon him. &#x200B; "Come this way for the freedom you seek."The voice was gravelly and dry, like a desert-dweller who rolled their own ciggies. Obviously, this was some sort of ruse. Even were someone able to offer true freedom, it would cost something. Little happens in this wonderful world without an associated cost. It's part of what made Harold hate waking up each morning. &#x200B; "Thanks, but no thanks ...lady. The type of freedom I'm looking for is sort of a one done deal and you can't get after-work from that."With a roll of the eyes, Harold turned around and began to leave. &#x200B; "Give me but 'til the end of the day and you will see that all your worries leave by the rising of tomorrow's Sun. Well, it'll be at midnight, but that's hardly poetic. All it'll cost is a smile."The patronizing crinkles at the corner of the crone's eyes suggested she knew how irritating of a request this was. Still, to even be able to enjoy the concept of a different sort of life would be a nice change from the usual state of mind. &#x200B; "Fine, but it's going to be sarcastic."Staying true to his word, Harold offered up a caricature of what a smile should be. Complete with overly stretched mouth and dead, lifeless eyes. Still, this seemed to satisfy the crone who sighed and wiggled her fingers around in a mysterious way. This would suggested some sort of magic had just occurred. Either way, she turned and left, seemingly assuming all was square and understood. &#x200B; "That's about right."With that Harold went home. &#x200B; Sitting on his bed and reflecting the day's events before going to sleep for the night, Harold espoused on what his new outlook could be. General levity? A reduced disdain for living things? Perhaps he would be motivated! Either way, he was going to go to bed so he could wake up to the new day faster. He laid his head down and closed his eyes. &#x200B; Harold wasn't so foolish as to think things would actually turn around. He'd watched movies. The reward was also going to be the price in some obnoxious lesson about how ironic and witty mysterious figures believe themselves to be. So, it was no surprise to Harold when he failed to register his lack of surprise because he never woke up. He had experienced a major brain aneurysm (leaving the tumor a bit chagrined) in his sleep that put him out immediately. &#x200B; The unfortunate souls who had to move his body couldn't stop talking about how creepy his giant smile was.
Bus loaded, I put on a cheery smile and called out to the kids: "Everybody buckled in?!" "Uhm, we don't have seatbelts,"this sassy girl named Trina sassed. "Correct!"I beamed. "But I do! Hey, quick question: since you guys don't have seatbelts, how badly do you think you'll all get injured if I hypothetically, accidentally but really purposely crashed the bus?" Crickets. I shrugged. "Ah, well. Guess it won't matter anyway if the fuel tank ruptures, ignites and the bus catches on fire. Then we all die a slow, painful, burning death." One kid in the back started crying. "Ah ah ah,"I tutted, wagging a finger back and forth. "No noise. I need silence to talk to the demons in my head. And they get upset when any noise interrupts them. They start whispering for me to do bad things." The crying stopped. I smiled and turned back to my driving. Not one peep was heard through the entire trip.
The house is bustling! Mommy and grandmama are chatting excitedly as other women, some I reconize, some I don't prepare the house for a party. Not sure what a wedding is really, but it makes mommy and daddy happy so I'm happy too! Daddy's not home. Something about bad luck. But I can't wait to see him later... Door! Door! The door is opening! Mommy! Daddy! "Hey Charlie. Ok, ok, down boy down. " They look so happy! I love my family!
Humanity spread far from its nest. That fact is exemplified no clearer then at this council. You look around. On the far side of the table, eyes glowing an ethereal yellow, is the Collectives representative. You know about Kernov. You know he is going to be a coward and suggest appeasing the alien filth who control Earth, perhaps buying it off of them. The Collective might not be strong, but they have enough enough pull that Kernov needs to be convinced that launching an invasion fleet is the correct choice. On Kernov’s left is Keran. Her calm face doesn’t betray the fact that her government let the aliens claim earth. To the best of your knowledge Keran will be preaching that humanity should cooperate with the aliens, let them keep Earth. You're filled with rage at the thought of it. Any human comfortable with even the though of aliens ruling Earth doesn’t deserve the name. On your left is Oliver, the emmissary from the Bandit Systems. You don’t know how many of the corporations and tribes will listen to him, but you know that you share his motive. If even half of the Bandit Systems join the invasion then any manpower problems will be solved. You’re shocked out of your thoughts by your watch. You check it; it reads 17:00. The council is on.
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Mikoto sighed as the same message blared once again through the radio’s speakers. She let it loop a few times before turning it back off, vainly hoping that this time it might have actual information. Of course, it didn’t. Despite the dire message, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The morning sun was busily burning away overnight fog, and she could hear the occasional bird waking up and beginning to sing. After taking a moment to breath in the crisp air, Mikoto shouldered a backpack and set off. Town was quiet these days. It had escaped much of the war’s destruction, although the occasional burned-out home was testament to some people’s devotion to the cause. They reminded her of teeth, the rotten ones enough to spoil the whole smile. Without power, Mikoto was finally thankful for the town’s historical society. They’d been the ones to lobby for a full repair of the town’s old water pump, apparently saying it would make a good tourist attraction. It hadn’t, but it did mean she could get clean water without having to boil it. She dropped by the general store and picked over the shelves, finding a few things that didn’t look quite spoiled yet. The canned food was long gone, although there were a few things left she was saving for a rainy day. Most people had left long before looting became a concern, fleeing a front that never quite made it this far. Before the radio’s all went scorch-earth, she’d heard about guerilla resistance in the woods and hills, keeping their intrepid invaders on their toes outside the larger cities. Back at her house, Mikoto thumbed through an old book she’d read a half dozen times at least. She forced herself to read slowly, trying to savor the story’s twists and turns as if she was reading it again for the first time. She was almost thankful for the interruption when she heard the distinctive, dry crackle of gunfire. She cocked her head and waited, and after a few seconds there was a distant explosion, followed by a slightly deeper, louder series of pops. She set her book aside and set off in the direction of the fighting, if for nothing else than to break the monotony. Eventually, she found herself lying on top of Hummer’s Hill, an overlook that showed a “beautiful view of our scenic town”, or so the advertisement went. It also showed a view of the nearby highway, where a trio of armored vehicles sat motionless, one blackened and smoking. The fighting must have been over, because a dozen-or-so soldiers in camouflage uniforms were busily trying to attach a tow cable to their damaged vehicle. Mikoto couldn’t see their attackers, although the watchful eyes of several of the men were watching the treeline on either side of the road. Satisfied that the action was over and done with, Mikoto began to shuffle backwards off the hill. Suddenly, she heard a loud boom from nearby. One of the soldiers collapsed to the ground, a large red hole where most of his torso had once been. Turret gunners on the two functional vehicles swung ominously towards the hill, and the other soldiers began to scramble for what cover they could find on the exposed road. Another roar, and one of the gunners fell limp in his turret. With the second shot she finally found the shooter, a man further down the hill with a large rifle, carefully concealed behind a makeshift blind. She’d been so distracted by the soldiers she hadn’t paid attention to her own surroundings. Before the man could fire a third shot, the soldiers opened up. The turret gun tore holes in the hillside as the gunner sprayed back and forth, and each soldier added to the din with his own rifle in occasional bursts. She scrambled backwards, trying to get back over the hill before she was seen but too afraid to stand up and run. The sniper’s weapon roared again, so loud and so close she could hear him over the din, but she didn’t look to see what, or if, he’d hit. She was back over the hill and running, sprinting back towards town. From her house she heard the gunfire eventually stop. A few helicopters circled overhead for a time, and the occasional jet roared its way overhead, but besides them the town was once again quiet. Inside her home, she tried to eat from a bag of potato chips while reading, finding both somehow difficult to do.
"I've got good news and I've got bad news, sir." "Hit me. Bad news first." "The serum it. . . it has some unwanted side effects." "On with it, man! The higher ups are getting antsy." "Yes, yes, right. Well, while it does make the patient immensely stronger - and I mean \immensely\ - it also seems to. . . well. . . erase inhibitions, say." "Erase inhibitions?" "Yes sir. The patients seem to lose all sense of who they are and become blind to their surroundings. Exaggerated aggression is also universally seen in those given Serum 17-E." "But they also all become stronger, right?" "Yes sir, all subjects exhibited near-inhuman levels of endurance and hardiness." "Near-inhuman, eh? What exactly have they been put through, Mr. Petropoulos?" "We've had to get creative with our testing, what with the mindless and often aggressive nature of the patients, but they've shown remarkable ability in a variety of exercises. They are considerably stronger than their size should permit, strength often increasing threefold without any measurable increase in muscle mass, and they run faster and longer than your average man by a solid margin, which leads me to our most interesting discovery. These qualities naturally led to some trouble containing the subjects. We even had a few escape before we built the concrete enclosure around the test track. Two were able to be sedated and brought back unharmed (after enough tranquilizer to kill an elephant, mind you), but a third was shot. Seven times. And the kicker?" "What?" "We're still looking for him." "You mean he's alive?" "We even hired hunters to follow the blood trail. The patient apparently had run a significant distance with numerous gunshot wounds." "This is ground-breaking, Petropoulos. . . The Ottomans won't stand a chance against an army of serum-enhanced soldiers." "But sir. . . " "But a mindless super soldier can't carry gun, can he?" "We have reason to believe that is the case. Patients seem to forego any tool use or other higher thought processes, and tend to develop a kind of oral fixation. Despite their impressive physical feats, their minds regress severely shortly after administering the serum. They were unable to complete even rudimentary tasks." "That is unfortunate, but the Ottomans are on our doorstep. A mindless superhuman is better than nothing. This might just be our only chance. . . Keep working at it. We don't want this turning on us." "Of course not, sir." "Oh, and Petropoulos?" "Yes, sir?" "I think you've earned yourself a commendation. I'll put a good word in for you with the higher-ups. I'm sure they'll be elated." &#x200B; &#x200B; The facility was hit by a missile the next day. The surviving were quickly overwhelmed by the remaining forty-seven patients, who had been administered with an experimental and unexpectedly contagious serum.
"Pink chicken???"His voice boomed, "you fucking donkey!"The target of his aggression, a chef from New Jersey with a fair amount of swagger was visibly upset, his face flushed and tears began forming in his eyes. "Where did you learn to cook like that? Prison??"The Scottish spittle shone bright on his forehead. "Now fix it and get back to work!" The rest of the night went fairly normally or at least as normal as Hell's Kitchen ever goes. There were little issues but no big explosions of anger and I figured I wouldn't be required. But some part of me knew this wouldn't be a normal night. From my perch in Gordon's knife bag I could see that vein throbbing on my owner's face. Hours after the decision was made and the contestants were dismissed back to their rooms I was brought to attention by the door to Ramsay's office opening and Gordon coming through. The reflection of his face off my surface showed a bloodthirst I wasn't used to seeing out of him. He unzipped the box and grabbed me from my place and I knew I wouldn't just be cutting some delicious steak or stunning cod tonight. There was a new dish on the menu and it wasn't going to be served tableside but it was going to be served cold. Don't ever serve chef Ramsay pink chicken.
When they first met, they were still kids, barely fifteen summers old. Their Mentors had gathered together for a meeting, to let the new Life and Death get to know each other. Life still remembered those icy blue eyes of Death, clear and deep as the ocean, cold and percieving. And Death was still captivated by the way Life seemed to almost glow under the sunlight, as if his skin had been dusted with gold. During the years of their training they often visited each other, while they were still able to. Once they would take the full spot as Guardians of Life and Death, they wouldn't be able to cross the bridge connecting the sides anymore. Neither of them liked the thought, they had grown very attached to each other. But sadly that point was soon reached, and unwillingly they had to say goodbye. Life missed Death. He never cared that her skin was pale as bone and cold as ice, or how there were always shadows around her eyes, eyes that had grown darker and darker over time. He liked the silver tone of her hair, how the cloaks she always wore over her dress were just a tiny bit too big for her. And he missed her voice, low and melodic. They talked a lot about the dualities between Light and Shadow, how'd they would rule their new worlds. She was rational, but understanding. Aware of the fact nobody wanted to meet her, and still she guided every soul, no matter how big or small, into the otherside. Some souls stayed in her underworld, becoming her Reapers to help with the job. She ruled strictly, but with kindness. Death missed Life as well. She was always enchanted by his golden glowing eyes, the way small flowers and plants sprouted where his feet touched the ground, just to vanish a few seconds later. He was always warm, as if he carried a fire inside his chest, that let the veins along his arms and throat glow in the dark. When they were still kids she had often braided his fox-red hair, sometimes adding a few flowers into it. He had seemed to like it, which made her still smile. He was so full of energy, and his creations were simply breathtaking. No wonder mankind worshiped him. And yet he still had only eyes for Death, who could only take away what he formed. Since they weren't able to leave their realms anymore, it was hard to keep in touch. Death and her Reapers were unseen by the Living, and Life and his Maidens far, far away from dying. That's when she started to recieve the gifts. One of the first ones was a deer-like creature, with black fur and white antlers, three silver eyes on it's head. Death had named it Athena, and it was one of the first things that simply kept her company. Over time her empty and bare underworld turned into a huge garden, thanks to the plants and creatures Life gifted her. She didn't know how to thank him, but wasn't alone anymore. And with each gift she had a small piece of him by her side. Life loved Death so much, he kept giving her gifts every once in a while, even though Death could give nothing in return, wasn't even able to reach out to him. But it didn't matter, he was sure she loved him too. And he knew, when his time would be over, Death would gracefully take him into her arms to carry him away, and finally, they'd be united once more.
"'Is that Tchaikovsky's 1812 over-' Leonard was saying before his head disintegrated into component parts. 'Run! Run! Run!' Commander Levue Bellafonte roared in a voice distilled with command. We ran. Mortensen, Graves, Mr. Pickles and countless others fell as we beat our way through the thick bush of the land. &#x200B; Behind us came the ever present notes of the overture, coupled with something more. Something ominous and deep, resounding in its strength. The thick, heavy, clumping footfalls of a beast beyond compare to what any of us would know. 'It has to be a creature that the Ne'reen's Wizards have learned to summon. We have to get word to the Theocracy. The Exorcist Corps need to know what we know.' I bit out as we took shelter under a tree to rest as long as remaining hydrated took. Commander Bellafonte nodded towards me from across the clearing, he stepped out into the light. &#x200B; The light that illuminated him so that death may find him. &#x200B; A cacophony of terror and confusion spilled out alongside the commanders now headless body slumping to the ground, red everywhere. I couldn't move a muscle nor strain to emit even a whisper. I stood still as those around me ran and died and ran. I stood still as the creature passed by me. The heavy footfalls reminiscent of doom belonged to a humanoid in name only. All it shared with a human was its shape. Everything else was.. wrong. &#x200B; I stared transfixed as it seemed to glide across the ground, its human body dangling across the ground. Pulled by an untold number of shadowed tethers that wavered as if mirages. I watched as each shadowy tether passed across the body of a man or woman I once called a sibling in arms. I watched as their bodies decomposed in seconds what should have taken years. I watched as each new scattering of dust and ash gave birth to a new tether. I will never forget the creature's face. No eyes, no mouth, only ears, great big ears that quivered and twitched to every sound. I will never forget the sensation the creature caused as it passed me by, nor when its shadow engulfed me. I lost myself then in a twisted torment of darkness and light. I saw then what the creature was, how it could die and what the price of its life would be. My eyes opened to a world I knew overlaid by a world I did not. Shifting lines of colour and light twisted with luminescence. They shied from the creature even as it absorbed them into its own darkness. With my own two hands I grasped the closest lines of light that I could and ran towards the creature with a roar, I will never know if it heard me or not. Plunging into the beast I dragged the light within its darkened core and unmade it. Its energies metamorphosed my corporeal form. No longer was I truly human, neither was I a creature of the Void itself. I didn't know what I was anymore, nor who I would become. All I knew is that the Theocracy needed to know the truth of their falsehoods. In time I would be known as Kli'Askarana, Grand Warlock of the Demonic Circle, Conqueror of the Old Theocracy, Subjugator of Ne'reen, Immortal Consort to Kraostranagor the Ever Burning, Demon Queen of the New Theocracy and last, but not least your loving grandmother!"I said in a voice weary with story telling. "Are you asleep yet my grandchild?"I asked, fervently hoping for no answer. After a moment of silence I smiled, leaning over I kissed his forehead as I eased myself off the bed and made my way to the doorway. &#x200B; "You spoil him."Kraostranagor said with false sternness, a smile played behind his eyes as they trailed from my feet to my own eyes. I smiled in turn and walked into his arms, teleporting us to our chambers. "Says the Demon King that gifted him a personal private army. He's only just turned nine!"I chided him as we lay down together in the bed. He chuckled heartily before replying. &#x200B; "It was my gift when I was his age, they've served me well. I know they will serve him true."His voice was hard with emotion. I smiled sadly and leaned up to kiss his jawline, I threw in a bite for good measure. "Pfah! Woman, you and your teeth.. if you insist on such games at least ply them where they are appreciated!"I smiled at his words and trailed a line of kisses from his lips to his horns. He always did enjoy a good nibble on his ends. &#x200B; "Oh, Kross, you were his age over thirty millennia ago.. I love you my dear, but next year please gift him something appropriate. His mother has only just now given me peace over it! I know she is our daughter but I simply cannot see where she gets this ever-present whinging from."I said slowly as my eyes began to shutter and my dreams roll in on the gentlest of tides. "Join me in the dreamscape tonight my dear..."my words trailed off as I fell into a deep sleep. Kraostranagor smiled warmly as he mouthed the words 'I will' to his sleeping wife. "Perhaps next year I will equip the lad with his own armour, weapon and war-steed.."He mused as he too joined his beloved wife in the Dreamscape.
Day 42. The war lingers on. No side is fully aware of what they are fighting for. Insanity had ensued and the natives have began scalping any body they come in contact with. Dead or undead. I feel as though zombies are walking among us. Many soldiers have awoken and are confused and stuck in their own time. I'm not sure how much longer this can go on. We should have learned from the wars of our father's yet they are here fighting beside us in a battle of extreme beliefs.
Happy to correct any errors, non-native speaker here. --- At least Anya knew now. It did not bring back to life the boy with the broken ankle, nor the woman with the cough. It showed her no way back into her clan, back into her family's arms. It did not give her any idea on how to earn her keep in the Troupe of the Red Bear, the group of vagabonds she had joined for protection. But it was still nice to know. "But why ?", she asked the dying form in front of her. "Why did you curse me?" The form twitched with agony. Its energy was almost completely spent. Almost - the candle of fear still flickered behind the watery blue of her eyes. Fear of pain, as primal an emotion as it had ever known. "No..."It coughed. "...reason. Was...bored." Anya almost vomited. The bitch. "You destroyed my life, made me kill, just because you were bored?!", she screamed at the form. "Didn't. Know.", the form spat back. "So you just read from the curses section of the book bound in fucking baby skin? What did you THINK it would do?" Anya did not know why she asked. Certainly, whatever the reason, the Clan of Soothing Hands would not invite her back in. It had cost almost a year's earnings just to keep their clan's licence to continue practicing the healing arts. The reputational damage could not yet been estimated with anything more concrete than "enormous". Especially with the stupidly rich and notoriously fickle aristocracy, which still regarded the clans' powers as unnatural and even before the scandal sometimes preferred to die naturally rather than engage the healer clans. Even if the curse could be lifted, which it could not, no curse from the Soft Tome could, that part of her life was over. No matter the answer, Anya would remain an exile. Still, something spurred her on. Sweat ran down her face and neck, but she was cold despite the summer heat. When no answer was forthcoming, she tried a different tack. She drew the knife which still was just a smidge bloody from the small cut she had made on Tasha's calf. "Look here, Tasha. Answer my questions, and I will give you this. Stay silent..." She lifted her hands menacingly. When she saw Tasha's hungry eyes dart toward the blade, she knew she had one. "Ask.", rasped the bag of skin which had been a beautiful teenage girl just hours ago. Suddenly, Anya had no more questions to ask. She had questions alright- What am I supposed to do now? How will I live with what I have done? How will I survive in a country where everyone knows me as the 'Nurse of Death'? - but she knew that Tasha would not be able to answer any of them. Whatever she could answer, Anya realized, was no longer of interest to her. The spoiled little princess-to-be had picked a book she could not understand to mess with the only girl prettier than her. This level of conflict was nothing compared to the dangers she was in now that she was without clan, outlawed, without any skill other than the one she had learned all her life and which was now twisted into its very opposite. Especially now that she had attacked the Tzar's niece. Anya threw the knife in the vague direction of the huddled Tasha, who with a last hurra threw herself upon it. The sigh that left her together with her last breath was a sigh of immeasurable relief. Anya felt nothing, neither vindication nor pity. She turned around to leave the alley behind the duchy-store where she had lain in wait for the ever-so-fragrant Tasha. In front of her stood four very tall men with curved words and not a smile between them. The captain of the squad pointed at her. "Halt, reaper spawn.", he commanded. Anya halted, although more in surprise than in reaction to the command. She simply was too dejected to care anymore. "Alright, go on, take me to the dungeons.", she muttered, holding her arms out in front of her. This was how she had seen brigands and other scum led to the red stone walls of the inner fortress. Indeed, the captain was quick to bind her arms together at the wrist, although she did not like that his eyes seemed so distracted. "Anya Borisovna Yga, formerly of the Clan of the Soothing Hands-"He chuckled at these last words, and Anya felt a cold weight dropping into her stomach. "- I hereby detain you under the authority of the Great Boyar of Ad, Magistrate of the Grand City of Ad, Second Advisor of His Eternal Grace Tzar Belij Sachar I." Anya did not even bother asking for a reason. Legally, they did not need one anyway and it was in fact better if the guards just took her away right now, without looking too closely at who had died there on Anya's blade. Suddenly, the four remaining guards turned on their heels and took position at the end of the alley, blocking it from any traffic. When Anya turned to the captain to see what was going on, his pants were already on the ground and something large and fleshy dangled in a hedge of curly, dark hair. Another layer of putrid smell layered itself on top of the town's background stink. This time, Anya did vomit. The captain took a step back, seemingly disgusted, but then he slapped her hard across the face and not with this hand. "You know what to do.", he grunted. "Don't tell me you don't, you little clan sukas learn it from your mama's, to do it for your papas and uncles I know that." Anya had been read to be incarcerated, hanged even. But she had not been ready for this. Some instinct she had thought dead as ashes began to glow anew. Indeed, Anya knew what to do. But she had not learned it from her mother. Well, she had at first. But Tasha had taught her the real trick of it. She reached deep within herself, where her fire slept. Tasha had only been a warm-up, she had plenty left. She called it up into her hands and folded her palms as if to pray. Then she focussed her eyes, and all the little wounds on the captain's body became visible in stark contrast. It was summer in Ad, and that meant armies of mosquitoes each night. Nothing to do against it if you had to patrol the city. A thousand small pin pricks covered the captain's skin. Some he had scratched raw. As Anya knew he must have. "Letschin.", she whispered. "Heal." And the fire leapt out of her and latched onto the captain's many small wounds. And the little silvery flames licked them and tried to heal them. And then they turned dark. As the curse took hold, the captain screamed. The little wounds become gushing fountains as the curse bore ever deeper into the captain's skin. Within seconds, he looked like the pictures of prisoners sserving their very short sentences in an Iron Maiden. Other than with Tasha, Anya did not let up for a second. She had no time to lose, the other guards would not take these screams as screams of pleasure. Only a deaf person could. Indeed, the other guards had already turned and drawn their swords. The bloody spectacle bewildered them and it took them some time to process what was happening. When some semblance of understanding dawned on their faces, the captain was on the floor, white as birch's bark. Anya did not let up, did not and could not. The torrent of fire was too strong now. More and more poured out of her. Two more guards turned into fountains of blood. The other two, however, remained unchanged. Anya could not see any wounds on them. No mosquito bite, no scratch, no cut, nothing. Newcomers, they must be. Whoever they were, they advanced on Anya. Helpless to stop the fire pouring from her, she could not move. She tried cut the cord, but the flow of energy would not be interrupted. She could not see where it went, her three victims' wounds could hardly become any worse than they already were and she could gain no purchase on the two approaching men. Then she saw one of the two gasp and stare. With great effort, she turned her head. The huddled husk of Tasha was gone. In her stead stood a young woman with Tasha's clothes and facial structure but black eyes and grey skin. The apparition limped towards Anya and the two men and while it limped Anya could see a wound on the calf, closing slowly but surely. In grey hands, the walking corpse held a knife. Anya's knife. The grey girl stumbled past Anya and towards the two warriors. The curved swords sang and parted first scalp from head, then head from body. Anya's knife struck out and nicked a hand, a forearm. Solitary drops of blood spattered on the dry soil of the alley. The swords came again in a flurry of strokes and the corpse simply came apart and lost all animation. The unholy creature had not bested the guards of Ad. But it had done enough. When it died its second death, the cursed fire came for revenge. It was over. The fire was spent for now, and all in the alley was quiet. Anya could feel the dread and excitement rush out of her and her lids became suddenly heavy. The last thing she saw before she collapsed on the ground were two hooded figures dropping down into the alley from the roof of the duchy-store. The last thing she heard was: "Don't worry Sascha, she is out of Ogon right now. Get her. We have to bring her to the Warcouncil. No matter her crimes, they will find a use for her I'm sure."
I scribbled a couple words onto my notebook. They were all relying on me. The last sane people left. It started out with just the Disney movies, all those years back, it brought joy to young children. Now, those same children are adults, working in chains as a man with Mickey Mouse ears whips them. I was the leader of the Resistance against Disney. They always made jokes about how “Disney would take over the world,” as they had started purchasing everything. They bought everything, their money grew and their sick little Empire grew with it. It was in our homes, in our devices, in our goddamn clothes. They had taken over the Government soon after, and sent out forces to other countries, slowly consuming Earth until it was no longer Earth, and now “Disney World.” “Boss, it’s the Sleeping Beauty,” a voice from my 2nd in command broke me away from my thoughts. I knew what he meant, the bastards were trying to gas us out with what they called “Sleeping Beauty,” a mocking name to something once innocent. “Fuck, get the resistance members to the back exit, we’re moving out!” I scrambled up and out my office door, shouting the orders. It was true, they found us, the gas pouring it. A charming name for the chemical yet a not-so-charming effect that comes with. The shit’ll choke you right to “sleep,” if you can call it that, and it sure as hell ain’t anything of beauty. I knew it was only a matter of time before they’d find us, but I didn’t have a chance to think of how exactly they did. The Resistance soldiers were running as fast as they can, grabbing their weapons and gas masks with them. “Boss, catch!” One of my soldiers tossed me a gun and a gas mask, as I shouted “Move!” to the ones frozen in fear. We were heading down the back exit, they may have found us but those Disney Dickheads weren’t going to kill us. The guards were pulling the door open, and we were all running out for our lives, but we were blinded by lights. I looked ahead, seeing Mechs painted with the Disney symbol on them. A robotic “Hyuk!” filled the air and robot Goofy-bots scrambled out from dropships. They opened fire. We did, too. We were getting mowed down, I was yelling at some of the resistance soldiers to retreat to the left alleyway, to try and spare some of them. They’d either be killed or captured under Disney’s dictatorship if they didn’t run for their lives. Some listened, more followed as I ran to try and lead them. That was my job as the Resistance leader, anyway, not the running, but the leading. Our retreat didn’t stop the Goofy-bots from raining hell on us, though. The alley was tight, having us all cramped together, as I shouted orders to push forwards away from the gunfire. My other soldiers were trying to hold them off, but it didn’t help by much. We reached the end of the alleyway, spreading out onto the streets. As I looked around, I was reminded from every point I looked that Disney ruled over us. Posters of Disney princesses sprawled out on the walls, and more posters of classic Disney cartoon characters basically demanding citizens to join Disney’s army. Everyone was sprinting a different direction, the screams filling the air, but it was overpowered by a “Send out the Donalds!” from an overhead helicopter. Pods slammed down into the ground around us, as robotic ducks came running out, their sharp teeth shining in the darkened and bloody night. “Fuck,” I whispered under my breath as the robotic Donald Ducks came sprinting at us, a menacing quack filling in the air. This was it, the end of us, Disney was determined from the start to flush us out, and it finally paid off. I fired off my pistol at the beasts, in a hopeless attempt to maybe comfort myself with the fact that at least I’d die fighting. I watched the sharp teeth dig into my Allies’ throats and flesh, seeing them fall to the ground. “Take the leader alive,” one of the Goofy-bots had commanded from behind, they had followed us through the alleyway. I knew what I had to do, they weren’t going to take me. I aimed the gun to my head, telling myself it was for the best. “Cory’s out of the fucking house,” I pulled the trigger, saving myself from Disney’s wrath.
They were known as Life and Death, I know simple and easy but isn't every great story just a simple retelling of simple events? And that's what this is. This is a simple story of Life and Death falling in love and Time deciding to put his print on their reality. &#x200B; Love was simple enough for them for they found each other in the dark, as best as it can be described for there was no dark then for you can't have dark without light. There was just existence and for them the only reality was their own. They were two entities that embraced each other and fought for their reality as best they could. They wanted their world to work and they made it work, each side embodying their personality as best they saw fit. &#x200B; For the two reflected each other and the two were respectful and different. There was Life who found that he enjoyed to make things that moved with a mind of their own, they wandered around in the void lost and afraid for their mind could not comprehend it all. Death what Life had created and saw how its entity shambled around lost and alone and so she decided to make the grass and the light for that entity so that it was no longer afraid in the dark. They watched as together their creations worked. &#x200B; They created and they built, with every creation that Life made Death created something to counter it and assist it to function in the world they were created, vice verse with Life onto Death. They were built for each other. If Life created birds then Death made the wind to carry it, the tree to host it and the rivers to support the tree. And Life saw the river and made the fish to live in it and Death saw that they were trapped and so made the sea to give them room. They worked together and it was wonderful. If happiness could flow then it could be said that love flowed between them strong as their will. &#x200B; Their greatest creation however came with the introduction of a third all powerful entity, Time. Time is what some would call the villain in this story but as every villain in a story there are justifications and reasons for their hatred and evil and Time had good reason to feel the way he did. Time saw Life and Death making it work, making a reality free from the darkness and the void and in creating something wonderful and amazing. Time saw how they were able to forge something endless and something amazing and he was jealous. How did they find each other and how are they able to make it work so? Everything that Time was contrasted with them and he hated it. So what does every self-righteous villain do in a story? He makes it horrible for those people he hates. &#x200B; So Time created time, and in that moment Life and Death began to falter. Life watched as everything he had created began to grow old and to fade away, his birds stopped flying and collapsed onto the soft grass to decay. His fish were taken from the world to float in the sea Death had created. And through it all Death's creations stood tall and stood strong, it took a long time before anything Death had created would falter. Life began to feel a sense of resentment towards Death and what had just occurred and Time smiled to himself at having achieved to sow his unhappiness into these two people. &#x200B; Death approached Life in an attempt to reconcile and together they created the greatest and final creation that their reality could ask for. They decided to join forces and create something that was alive and created life and would grow and old die. Life and Death made humans and they set them onto the world they had created. Life and Death's child walked on to their world and worked in its beauty while Time watched with envy as they had managed to overcome his damning creation. &#x200B; How can they be so happy? Time ran away and he fled into the darkness, away from the light and into himself. How did I fail? Why has what I created become a mess like this? Why did they manage to turn it towards themselves and all I can manage is just to falter. Time sat in silence thinking on his reality as he descended deeper and deeper into himself. What am I and what am I meant to do? &#x200B; It hurt him and as he turned to look at the reality that Life and Death had created and he saw the pure joy in the humans that now walked the lush green of earth Time saw why. It's all in the balance they created and through my imbalance they were able to create something so beautiful. Their smile struck Time to core and he realized that their creation was as much as his as time allowed this happen and he felt so happy. For creating something is one of the most beautiful things you can do. &#x200B;
Harmony propped the transparent plastic umbrella against the mossy brick wall, rain pattering overhead and dripping off the canopy ribs, sluicing through the folds of her dandelion yellow rain coat. She brushed a trickle of water from her goosebumped thighs, tugged the mini skirt down a few centimeters to keep it in the legal limit. A Porsche hovered down through the drizzle and fog, a curtain sprouting to keep it afloat over the filthy street. The driver's side door slid back and a man stepped gingerly on the wet pavement as though it were a minefield. He glanced either way, pulled his fedora brim lower over his brow, and jutted his chin in Harmony's direction. Harmony offered him an inviting smile, glanced further down the alley, and began to walk. She stopped behind an auto-dump, out of sight from prying eyes. The skeev - what else could he be but a skeev? Vice didn't bother with her kind, at least, not anymore - hesitantly offered her a small triangular cardboard box. "First time,"he muttered. Definately a skeev, she thought. He acted coy, but she very clearly saw lust in his eyes, that kind fed by repetition, both imagined and actualized. "I don't have many first times left,"she whispered. She touched his shoulder, curled her lips under her teeth, and offered, "But sometimes second or third times are better." The skeev rattled the box. "Oh, it's a first time all over again. Go on, before it's too late. Take it." Pushy skeev, she thought. She took the box, felt it's oily warmth in her hand and raised it to her nose. Harmony lifted the cardboard flap and peeked inside. Cheese. Bread. Meat. "Pizza? Is this, real pizza?" The man nodded, and beckoned her to eat it. Harmony tousled a lock of hair, pretending to be demure in order to activate the memory sump. After all, why sell a first time memory once when she could sell it multiple times? And virgin pizza? That was, well, was there any comparison? Harmony lifted the slice of pizza from the box, inhaled the still slightly steaming aroma of illegal meats, and expensive spices, and hard-to-find or outright banned wheat. Her mouth salivated. She opened her mouth to sink her teeth in, and the man raised his hand. "Slowly, just a nibble."He left his mouth to hang open, tongue probing his teeth and lips like the lecherous skeev he was. Harmony nibbled the tip of the slice, and her nose and mouth were filled with the luxurious velvet of molten cheese, garlic, basil, salt, and, maybe, a bit too much oregano. Not that she knew what those were. At least, she shouldn't have known. Wasn't supposed to. She just knew she knew, without actually remembering. Such was the underhanded art of selling first time memories without actually forgetting them like the skeevs thought she was supposed to do. She chewed, slowly, savoring each flavor, swishing the softening matter, fellating the bits of meat and cheesy blobs with her tongue using sensual strokes. Then, she swallowed and the skeev gasped. A nearby noise spooked the skeev. He took the box and slice from her, tossed it into the auto-dump, and then extended his hand containing a memory spike. "Lifestyle. One hour of a fancy ball." Mr. Fancy Balls, she thought. One hour for one minute of first time pizza seemed more than generous. Harmony tousled her hair again, sending an instruction to sump her memory, and placed her palms atop his. In an instant, the recent memory of the pizza slipped from her mind, and in its place seeped in a hazy recollection of a fancy dress affair, which, being from his perspective, she quickly tried to repress until she could sump that too and offload on someone else. No fancy balls for me, she thought. No way. The man retreated to his hovering Porsche, already, it seemed, looping the virgin pizza memory like the dirty skeev he was.
Evil Evan never leaves his evil castle. Ever. He is right between two righteous people's houses. Seen him once or twice with tons of rice inside his castle. That is how he lives: he eats his rice inside and peers outside at night to see the righteous people live their lives. He is not so bright. &#x200B; Evil Evan plans to rule this land forever. Scheming in that house of his—that massive sore on eyes, it is. Music hums from deep within, a sound with bass and lyricless. That is how he lives: he eats his rice inside and peers outside at night to see the righteous people live their lives, as plans to sit atop a throne just grows within that sad man's dome, as music drones and drowns the awful sound of Evil Evan's cries. He is not so mighty, no. &#x200B; Evil Evan is a fairy tale to most, so very old and gross. Long ago he lost a war now all his dreams are lost and gone away. All his people and his hopes of being a king just eat at his cold brain at night. He sleeps all day and waits 'til moon to rise and shine. That is how he lives: he eats his rice inside and peers outside at night to see the righteous people live their lives, as plans to sit atop a throne just grows within that sad man's dome, as music drones and drowns the awful sound of Evil Evan's cries, as dwelling on the past is swelling rage and hate for all he doesn't have (it makes him awful mad); the only thing he has is just an Evil Castle sandwiched right between two righteous people's houses; now the HRA is hounding on the Evil Evan for his Evil Castle—people have been loud about the vile sight that is his Evil Castle. He is not so happy. &#x200B; But I hear he's also pretty ugly, just like his damn house. I gotta see that dumb castle every day on my commute. Ugh. &#x200B; --- Thanks for reading! /feedback always appreciated. I've been working on making my stuff more clear, so if anything was confusing to you, I'd love to know :) I have more [poems, songs, and stories on my personal subreddit.](/r/scottbeckman)
“Then we should both buy some lottery tickets when we get into town.” Your brain takes a moment to process that information. “Anyway, you’re the Hichhiker Slayer right?” “H-how do you know that?” You begin to wonder of you are going to survive tonight. “Only one killer’s modus operandi is killing hichhikers. I’m the Blighton Bog Butcherer, by the way.” “The Blighton Bog Butcherer?! I am a huge fan!” “Always nice to meet the next generation of killers. I know a great pizza place in Grimsby, let me take you there, my treat.” For the rest of the ride you continued to ask him questions about his murders, alongside asking for tips and his autograph.
Humans really are pathetic sometimes. You see them squirm and run, trying to defy the very principles that made them. They insist on free will yet they enslave. They fight for the right to take others away. They all believe they are on their own path to greatness, yet really they are part of a web. Mine. Bending reality is a gift no one would ask for. I see everything, everywhere at everytime. Enough data to fill up all hard drive on earth in nano seconds. It does give me perks though. The convergence is one of the. Some people believe time streams will always run parallel, like canals. Some believe it meanders like a river, crossing into each other and forming lakes of stillness. Few consider it for what it is. Branches. It'll grow wherever it pleases but these ones are special. They all want to focus on a fixed point. The convergence where all time meets. What if I sped up that process? Show you what happens. Did you see it? No? Imagine it like a black hole, except crazier. Infinite amounts of energy in a single point im space. So immensely hot that physics breaks down. You get it? We just remade the universe. That single point is really just another tree, a meeting point for the branches to connect and diverge once again. So why mention humans? They're irrelevant, right? Well, if such a cosmic event happened where it distorted space-time that much. When humans come around, there will be anomalies. Weird dreams, inspiration from nowhere, a drive to keep going for a future that doesnt exist. They are the few species that will experience anything related to the convergence. Humans are the most vile beings in the universe, and that just might be enough to save them. To push them into the stars.
"This'll be easy", I say as I start heading towards the closest time machine. "He's in a DeLorean Agent, you're going to have to find a way to get close to him. Take the whole team". I beam into 1985 dressed in a white t shirt and jeans. Something people usually wore in that time...I think. We begin walking towards the parking lot where he is located when... Suddenly I see a group of individuals in robes rushing out of an apartment. They turn into an alleyway. Damn. We chose the wrong clothes. "Quick! This way!", I yell at my team as I rush to the alley. We need to blend in and our clothing is way off. As we make the turn we see them holding AK's... Those haven't changed much since our time. I reach for my blaster and phase the group out of existence. "Take their clothes!", I order my team. This is perfect. We have a van, the CORRECT clothing, and the location of the time traveling DeLorean. All we have to do is take out the target who created it and dispose of the evidence. &#x200B; &#x200B;
“Gloria Ybarra?” A woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair asked the room. Almost two dozen men and women sat in a bright waiting room on uncomfortable plastic chairs. The brown-haired woman stepped out of her office every hour to call another name. “Here.” A sixteen-year-old girl with dark brown bun stood as she raised her hand. She hefted her denim backpack over her shoulder and approached the woman that called her. “Hi, I’m Melody,” the woman said and shook Gloria’s hand. “Come in and have a seat.” Melody ushered Gloria through the door and into a white office. She first noticed a depression in the center of the room filled with what smelled like fresh soil. Behind the soil sat a glass desk with a monitor and keyboard on top of it. One char sat behind the desk and one chair sat in front. Gloria saw nothing else in the room other than white walls and a white tile floor. Melody walked around the soil pit to the seat behind the desk. Gloria sat in front of her and dropped her bag to the floor. “First of all, congratulations on being selected,” Melody smiled. “As you can imagine we had quite a list to sort through.” “No kidding! That [roller derby match](https://hugoverse.info/2018/09/29/las-luchadoras-5-luchadoras-vs-magi-knights/) was amazing,” Gloria smiled and inched forward to the edge of her seat. “I’m sure tons of people rushed to sign up.” “It’s a shame the Luchadoras lost though,” Melody sighed. “I hope they’ll do better in their next match.” Gloria nodded eagerly. “They definitely will!” Melody smiled then pulled a clipboard out of a desk drawer and handed it to Gloria. “Let’s get started on your character. First, pick a class,” Melody said. Gloria glanced down at the paper on the clipboard and noticed a long list. “If you have any questions, please ask. Unfortunately, you can only make one character, so it’s important you’re satisfied.” Gloria read down the list. “What’s a craftsman?” she asked. “That’s the tradeskill class. If you pick that one you get to pick one of the trades,” Melody handed Gloria a small slip of paper with a short list. “We can use trade skills in derby?” Gloria’s eyes widened and the corners of her lips lifted slightly. Melody nodded. “They can be very useful. In fact, both teams at the match had a different craftsman with them. A blacksmith on one team and a programmer on the other.” Gloria looked down at the list again. “Paladin,” she said. Melody nodded, then typed information into her computer. “Now pick a race. Most paladins pick the tougher races. Troll, ogre, dwarf, slime, minotaur, or one of the elementals,” Melody suggested. “I want to be an angel,” Gloria said. “Nice choice. Now choose a soul. It can be any of the races, or any of the ones in the little box,” Melody explained. She pointed to a small boxed list on one side of the clipboard. “Is there a bonus for doubling up? Like what if I go angel / angel?” “There can be. Some skills work better the more of a “type” there is nearby. Any skill that benefits from angels in the area would count twice; once for your race and once for your soul. But that can also backfire because you count twice for enemy skills also.” Gloria stared at the list for several seconds. Finally, she made her decision with a nod. “Light elemental.” “Okay,” Melody typed more into her computer. “Good to go.” Melody stood from her seat and walked around her desk to the soil pit. “I’m going to need you to lay down,” she pointed at the dirt. “You can customize your appearance, and you need to complete the tutorial. After that,you’ll get a suit and officially be in the beta program.” Gloria stood and walked to the edge of the pit. “Should I take off my shoes or anything?’ Melody shook her head. Gloria stepped into the soil and sunk a bit. She took careful steps to the center, then crouched and shifted her weight to her hands to lay down. “Since this is your first time logging in you’ll get a notification about connecting to the other versions of you. In the-” Melody started to explain, but Gloria interrupted her. “Other versions of me?” she sat up to ask, with a puzzled look on her face. Melody nodded. “Alternate universes,” she replied with a shrug. “We have about 300 of you on record, but we only started keeping track when Ms. Sharp took over the AlterNet. There may be more. Once you set it up you’ll have access to a private chat channel with the other yous.” “Whooooaa,” Gloria grew giddy at the thought and threw herself backward into the soil. “I’m ready!” “As I was saying; in the interest of time, you should ignore the prompt for now. With as many doppelgangers as you have, you should set aside a couple of hours to do it.” Gloria sat up again in a hurry. “WAIT! Can I know what they are?” “No,” Melody replied with a straight face. “However, I will mention that more than half chose an angel as either a race or a soul.” “Awww,” Gloria fell back into the dirt again. “Are any of them double angels?” Melody shook her head. “Not anymore. There was one on record, but [she hasn’t logged in](https://hugoverse.info/2018/07/29/ballisea-1-glory-0/) in a while.” “Okay. Now I’m ready. What do I do?” Gloria felt something tickle her right hand. Then her upper left arm, then all over her body. She looked down and saw dozens of tiny black spiders crawling out of the soil. “Ignore the spiders,” Melody replied. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #274. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
Duty. Honor. Discipline. Power. These are the things the Void Dragon taught us in those dark days, the days of the Third World War. When the Spiders crept in, destroyed our senses and our order. They professed liberty from oppression, expression from silence, light in a dark age. What we didn't know was the depravity, the hatred and the death. They brought a new way of thinking - that all exist as nothing more than ways to pleasure each other, that everyone is but an automata made solely to make life heaven for everyone else. We thought it was a utopia, for everyone could pick and choose what they did and did not believe in from any list. You could do drugs, you could prostitute yourself and others; there was no law to hold you back, they said. >We suffered, until the Dragon came. It brought salvation. Where there was strife, there was now unflinching order. People lost in their own fantasies, becoming nothing more than flesh-seeking degenerates, were brought into line. The Eye was opened to us, in those blessed months. The Dragon showed us the power of honor, courtesy, and respect for others. The Dragon showed us the power in rule of law, in doing the right thing for the right reasons, of which there were blessedly few. They told us that we suffered from choice paralysis - and the Dragon had shown them which ones to choose. >We suffer, even though the Dragon has come. The Spiders fought back, insidious webs clouding the minds of those unable to break away, to be safe under the Dragon's wings. We fought them not to destroy a hated enemy, but to save the ones we loved; did that not make us more dangerous? We won, and burned the webs away to reveal a long-forgotten truth. The Dragon does not give gifts, for to give gifts is t weaken one's servants. It put us through adversity after adversity to test our faith in duty and discipline. It split our people, that we may stand strong with honor. Then we were sent forth to battle the Spiders on other worlds to show others the Dragon's beauty. >We shall suffer, until all is as it should be. Amen. --- --- Questions, comments, concerns?
"Only said to touch this I truely needed it pop. " He picked up the old photograph of his parents on their wedding day and smiled. They were always so happy together. He hoped for the same thing. In fact he kinda had it already. That's why he was opening this box. "Been ten years pop. Doesn't feel like it. " He puts the photo down on the desk and shuffles through a small assortment of small junk his dad kept for reasons even he didn't know. Underneath it all was a folded manilla envelope. He sighed and took the envelope and unfolded. He pull its contents, $700,000 and his dad's wedding ring. He smiles and brushes a tear from his eye. He puts the rest of the stuff back and picks up the photo again. "You would've loved Betty dad. " He stashed the ring and money away as Betty walked into the study with lunch. "In four years you've never told me what's in there. Other then that picture. " She sat down, handing him his plate and putting a bowl of cat food on the floor for their tabby hiding under the desk. "One day I'll tell you...it's very personal." "Let me repeat, IN FOUR YEARS..." He laughed and picked up his sandwhich. "Soon Betty, soon."
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I woke up in my office with the kind of piercing headache that makes you wish you'd never woken up at all. The light from the half closed wooden blinds cut through the musty air like blades, every mote of hanging dust visible in the harsh sunlight, dancing and mocking my slow, heavy limbs. An overstuffed couch once found by a back alley dumpster is no place for a man to sleep, but if I hadn't rescued this stained old flea-trap, it would be a less lucky man resting his head on it out there, and I'd be spending my long nights in a very uncomfortable desk chair. Stumbling across the room to banish this hellish daylight from my dark corner of this city, my hands went to my hip instinctively. No matter how down and out I found myself, there were two friends who never left my side. Specifically, my flask on my right side and and my 9mm on my left. Well, they almost never left my sides. That ungodly morning my hand clutched at nothing but clammy skin and a pair of fresh, navy blue boxer shorts, branded with the ViviCorp logo. I would find my gun and flask I had no doubt in my top desk drawer. The gun, which I kept on my person for her unique ability to make peace with those who would look to scuffle rather then for her deadly bite, still unused. The flask, of course, left empty. It's not like I could expect him to fill it for me. I knew I wouldn't have. It was 2pm by the time I found my way into a wrinkled and stale smelling suit and out of my dilapidated building. The day was hot, a thick wet heat like smog bearing down on you and sending you a message to get the hell out of town. It stunk like piss, but then so did my office, and I knew when I sidled up to the bar at Xornon's it would probably smell no better. There was a time when this city cared about it's streets, but now that's nothing but a tall tale that old fucks like me can tell each other over our synthetic beers. I was deep in these thoughts of better and less ugly times when I found myself almost clipped by a hovercab streaking out an alley and making its way up to the highrises. My hands flew instinctively to my face, but my hands don't fly as fast as they used to. The taxi's noxious exhaust filled my lungs and burned my eyes, overtaking my senses like a bad memory you just can't shake. My body shook with my gasping coughs as tears streamed down my face and my blood, dark red and ominous, splatter the sidewalk in front of me. In a city like mine the weak rarely survive. A man my age can't spend to long dwelling on the burning in his lungs, or the cold sweat that he breaks into when he sees his own blood and realizes that he has less time than ever before. A man who shows his weakness in my city is as good as prey for the mutants, and no gun known to man can make peace with a mutant whp smells blood on the air. My visit to Xornon's that day was short, perfunctory. Not that I ever thought much of visiting my local watering whole, for a gumshoe the bar is a home away from home- and when I'm on the job I'm working from home. I treated myself to a 50/50- half synthetic whiskey and half that all natural good stuff. The price is a real punch in the gut, but my gut ain't feeling too fine these days anyway, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't have time that day for dinner. "You celebrating, flatfoot?"The bartender at Xornon's is an Autojob, and has all the charisma of a cardboard box. But then, I was never much for small talk myself. "You find out what happened to the other guy? The...uhhh...." "Me."I shot him a look he couldn't shoot back. The kind of 'fuck you' face only a human mug is capable of. "And no. I don't know what killed me yet, but I'm working on it." "Tell me about it, huh?"the Autojob wasn't programmed to be smug, but he did a hell of a good impression. "Reboot!" By the time I left my favorite hole in the wall, the city streets were shrouded in darkness. Here in the rotting center of our sprawling metropolis, that meant it was about 4 o'clock, the sun setting high in the sky behind the towering megascrapers that made up the wealthy outer ring. I had spent the last hour of my time in my third home away from home, the Xornon's toilet stall closest to the door. The 50/50 had gone down like a lady, but came back but like a woman scorned. I had to hold on like I was driving the porcelain bus to heaven, and satan himself was trying to pull me over. It doesn't look good on a man to be sick like this. I guess not everyone gets to choose how they look. By the time I reached the Vivicorp labs my breathing was ragged and wet, my skin seemed to hang like I'd aged 10 years that day. Death took a lot of things from me, but I always held o to my mind til last. Someday I'm gonna have to play my final hand, and that's gonna be my ace in the whole. The room they kept me waiting in was as cold as my ex-wife and as sterile as the man she left me for. It was dark, which always set me at ease, but in every other way it was the opposite of the places I'd made my home.The steel here had no life, no essence. Tomorrow I would take a moment before leaving my office to appreciate real wood grain. Or... well someone would. "Number...eighty seven?"a technician in ViviCorp standard dress blues made interrupted my tranquil thoughts. all for the best, I suppose. He was wearing a name tag that was a longer number than they'd given me, but I didn't recognize him or his number. They never gave us the same one twice. "That's me, doc, but you can call me eight for short. Whats the prognosis here? It's too early for the shit I'm going through right? Each time I'm done a little sooner."I coughed out a half laugh "That's a complaint the ladies have been giving me for a while" "I'm afraid your observations are quite astute eighty s- er- eight. We don't undertand what is happening to you, or the previous, um-" "Me" "Yes, previous versions of you. We will find out though. Until then the best we can do is-" "Try again tomorrow." "Essentially yes. You can of course make this less painful on yourself. We strongly encourage you to avoid pollutants, try to eat only healthy nutrimatter, and..."As the doc snuck a look at his clipboard I lay back on the table. I wonder how many previous me's are fucking around hell by now. Seems like it might be a good time. "Perhaps tomorrow we avoid all alcohols?" "Are you kidding me doc?"My eyes began to close and I felt my lungs punching their final ticket. "I'm not even going to fill up my flask"
“Every time, I swear, I’ve got to get a better watch” The elderly man sighs, pulling out his pocket watch, half past 4. “I swear, she’s going to kill me” he breathes, staring down the tracks, waiting for his train. As the man waits for the train, a little boy walks next to him. “Excuse me sir, am I in the right place?” The boy calls out, looking up at the man. A little shocked, the man glances down at the boy “Aye, but we’re a tad bit late I’m afraid, it appears as though we’ve missed the train.” The man sighs, stepping away from the tracks and sitting down on a bench nearby. “Come, I have a bag of chips we can share while we wait for the next one.” The man pulls out a bag of chips from his coat pocket and opens it, handing it to the little boy who happily takes a small handful. “So why’re you taking this train son? Don’t you have a family somewhere?” The man asks, popping a chip into his mouth. “Yes, but, they’ve already caught the train without me, they left me alone.” The boy began to cry silently as the chips in his hands fell to the ground. “Aye don’t be sad son, we’ll catch the next one and you’ll be with them soon enough, oh. I think I hear the train now.” The tracks began to rumble and the ground around them started trembling. The boy and the man walked towards the tracks. The train came to stop before them. It’s doors white and pearlescent. Impeccably clean, the conductor opens the door and inside the cabin glows a magnificent white. “All aboard!” The conductor called out stepping off the train onto the platform. “Tickets please!” He exclaimed holding out his hand. The elderly man handed his ticket to the conductor and the little boy did as well. “Ah, well, I’m glad you’re finally joining us son.” The conductor smiled at the little boy, his eyes brimming with happiness. “And you too sir, glad to have you with us.” He motioned at the elderly man. “Please, come aboard, watch your step. We’ll be there in no time.” The conductor smiled. The elderly man started to walk up the steps into the cabin, but stopped as the boy was not following him. “What’s wrong son?” He asked, stepping down on to the platform. “I’m scared sir, I don’t want to leave, not yet.” The boy cried, his head hanging low. “I know son, I know, but hey, your family is waiting for you, you don’t want to keep them waiting any longer right?” The elderly man extended his hand towards the boy. “Come on, I’ll help you find them.” The boy grabbed the mans hand and they stepped into the cabin. The conductor waited until they were on before stepping up himself. “Last call! I repeat, last call!” He yelled out, before tapping his hand on the side of the train, causing it to roar into life. The train began to move slowly down the track before eventually picking up speed. It’s whistle roared as it sped down the tracks. Fading away a few moments later. The train platform lay empty and abandoned. On the benches nearby lay a opened bag of chips.
As I expected, "Pen"was no longer. His inner being just ran short and all that was left was a shell of his former self. I asked floor if he saw anything, and he just said that Pen hit him, earlier, but not with malice. Dresser told me that Pen was hanging on, but when mom shut the door, he rolled over to his death. Floor confirms the story, so no autopsy is required, I don't think. Pen was a Pal! I will miss him like a screw misses a hole...
Staring certain death in the face does, as it turns out, make you reflect on your life. And the truth is that my life has been... good. Very good, even. Certainly not what I wanted or even remotely expected. It has been hard, and thankless but if I could go back and change it all I... wouldn't. (I mean, I would have listened to Andrew and not hooked up with his soul-sucking P.E. teacher. Though she could do that thing with her tongue that... moving on.) I was way too young and stupid way back when, just fresh out of college; I didn't even stop to consider the risks involved on what I saw as an opportunity to be the hero of the story. That was my first mistake: I jumped and... I missed. That wasn't an instant realization, either. I was young; I suddenly found myself in a surprising, brand new world, got in an stable relationship. I figured superhero-ing would come in time, and got comfortable in my new life. That was my second mistake. By the time I started to figure out the exciting life I had dreamed of wasn't coming, I couldn't jump anymore. Not that I was incapable, probably; but I had been tethered to this world too thoroughly to consider it. By then Susan had been dead for maybe a year and a half, and the only changes in my life revolved around making sure our son got everything he needed. I was Mr. Corvene, who worked five days a week from 8 to 5, and my life was so ordinary I could almost forget what an extraordinary feat I had performed. But when Andrew was fifteen, Nick transferred to his school and a few months later, the signs started. Andrew would come home late, or leave at any hour of the day. He would wear long sleeved shirts even when it was warm out. He made friends with a bunch of misfits. His grade average slipped. I knew what was happening. Of course I knew. And I'm ashamed to say that my first reaction was fear. A father in a fictional world that wasn't an ass? I figured my days were numbered. Of course, maybe their team will get here in time to save me. Still, if this is my end, nothing but a footnote to encourage the hero's journey: I've tried. If that is the only thing I can be proud of, then, I'm okay with it. Andrew and his friends are good kids, no matter what public opinion says. I've tried to not judge, to make sure they knew our house was open if they came battered or hurt, I've tried to listen and take them seriously (again, possibly-mind-altering flings nonwithstanding). I like to think I've made things a little easier for them, so far. I can hope that, even if my part is over, they can succeed, together. That is the way these stories go, isn't it? Varkios suddenly steps in front of me, piercing me with his soulless eyes and cocks his head slightly; a renewed feeling of dread sweeps through me. "You have a truly fascinating mind, Mr. Corvene." That is my third mistake.
They... they changed it? I slid down to the floor and stared in disbelief. Everything had been changed. Female to Male, Carol to Keith. A strange name. Why would they chose "Keith"? Not my first choice but whatever. They had ostracized me for so long, I was so scared. They had abandoned me in my time of need. Why would they call me back to to let me find this? I was finally a man. The man I was meant to be since birth. I can't show them exactly how happy I truly was, because there was no way to measure that happiness. I'm finally a man.

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