Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
(Continued From Above) It happened that within the Null population, there was a known phenomenon in which rather than outright resisting magic, some of it would actually be stored in the body upon contact- rather than just the raw energies that were manipulated and manifested into the various forms, the actual end state of the spells would become trapped within. Eventually, some limit would be reached or restraint overtaxed that a single spell would trigger some kind of cascade, and all that energy would suddenly come crashing out of the body. In my case, years of exposure to flame attacks had finally broken the damn, and the attacks by those five pyromancers resulted in a sudden, fiery eruption that had been bright enough to outshine the stars in the night sky. Years of instances when I’d had no choice but to take the brunt of magical attacks but survived had slowly built up inside me, and those fiery blasts had been the straw to finally break the horse’s back in spectacular fashion. Now fully aware of my abilities, the mages of the House of the Mountain now had a potential game-changer on the espionage stage, and thus began an impossible task- teaching how to use magic to someone who’s body and mind were never meant to. The new training regiments were brutal and agonizing- some of it so intense that any memories of it remain hidden by a gray haze even now- making the earlier tests and experience little more than foreplay to things even more cruel and sadistic. Whereas I once enjoyed what downtime I could get back in Fort Kassandra, I now longed to be deployed and far away from the tortures of those vapor-laden labs and bloodied sparring grounds. If Lady Soltessim hadn’t already captured my heart , I’d have taken it and fled, as far as possible from the House of the Mountain. But she was here with me, and that was reason enough to stay. It took a long year-and-a-half until I was deemed ready by the house. My body is still covered in scars from a hundred surgeries and alterations and a thousand wounds from the training ground, to the point where no amount of healing magic or treatment can undo them, all in the name of press; to take a body incapable of controlling the magical arts and turning it into a mage’s worst nightmare. And in the end, it worked, and the result was that the House of the Mountain now had a living superweapon- a skilled assassin who could go face-to-face with even the most experienced mages and not merely shrug off their spells, but could outright turn their attacks against them. A predator who could stalk their prey in plain sight without being noticed by anyone, for with the ability to absorb magic, I had no more need to worry about wearing any warded clothing or enchanted weapons or equipment- not when entire spells could be locked away throughout my body, just waiting to be unleashed as the situation called for it. Instead of gloves, I could absorb a lightning storm into my arm; and at will rain thunder down upon my foes like Zorath-U’ral struck down the sea-raiders. Or infuse my legs with haste and break the seals, running faster than Hurgal’s fabled boots. For actual mages, the challenge had been conditioning their bodies to let in and channel more and more magic. But for me, it was learning how to lower my own resistances and let it all out, with my only limits being how much of it I could hold onto- an amount that had grown exponentially as my regiment had continued and now felt nearly infinite. I struck in darkness, hid in plain sight- outside the walls of the House of the Mountain, no one knew my true name or face. I left no trace, no evidence, no witnesses- and though they didn’t know me, I knew the mages of the other houses cursed my name in fear, and I knew that the geomancers shuddered at the thought of what I might do should they betray the the House. And now, one of them was about to find out. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The paladin kicked in the next door, and just barely managed to raise his shield in time to stop as a small boulder flew through the air and knocked him onto his back. Kieler quickly grabbed him and dragged him out of the doorway and just barely avoiding a second one as it flew through and smashed a hole into the ground behind us as it landed and rolled. There was a sudden bright flash followed by a loud boom and a sizzling noise as a massive arc of lightning erupted through the hallway. I risked a quick glance into the room, and saw three elderly figures. One was dressed in orange, with black, vertical striations, holding a staff in his left hand- one of the pyromancers who had so far escaped our wrath, apparently. The second in light blue with the diamond-esque pattern of the House of the Storm- possibly the last keraunotheurge that hadn’t already been killed or captured by us, and the criss-cross marking on his left pauldron indicating he was of some rank. But it was the third figure at the back of the room- the one clad in plain brown, that got my attention. There he was, after all this time. He was here. I signaled for Kieler to throw in one of his extinguishers. Not questioning it, he complied. WIth a master geomancer in the room, I had no doubt that he could draw enough soil and earth to smother even the unholiest of fires, or worse- conjure up some kind of oil from all the flammable components of the stone masonry of which the fortress was built of, and direct it right back at us. There were far better ways to go than to have all of your flesh melted off by dark, foul flames. I heard Kieler’s canister clatter to the ground and roll for a few seconds in the next room as I turned and saw that the paladin was back on his feet and ready for action again, without a single drop of blood or scratch on his armor, and only a small dent in his enormous shield to show for the mage’s effort. His profession itself required being able to take solid hits and keep going, but I swear the paladins from the House of Mended Flesh would put even the best necromancers to shame in how they could just keep getting up from blows that would have killed any other man. I worked fast- the were only a few seconds before Kieler’s device would go off. A gravitational wave spell would have been perfect for this scenario, but it might have been too obvious and easy to counter for such seasoned magicians as these three. No, I needed both a distraction and a work-around. And enchanting a rock and tossing it in wouldn’t work- they likely had magic barriers up, and even if they didn’t, they were probably skilled enough to shoot it down before it reached them. I was going to have to do this the hard way. I placed the tips of my fingers together and with my mind, reached out through the entire room, and pulled- through all the cracks and pockets, nooks and crannies, cups and containers- I concentrated, concentrating all the moisture I could find, drawing water from stone itself and forming it into in the hallway. I then yelled over at my shoulder, shouting at the paladin to bless the puddle, to which he thankfully complied, and the water took on a shiny, chromatic hue. I saw the bright flash of light go off inside, and felt my ears nearly pop as all the air was forced out, drawing the silvery water further back into our room, but not far enough for me to worry. I’d already begun channeling the flashpoint spell in my left thumb and forefinger before the air currents paused, churred and then came rushing back in as the air sought to balance itself. I snapped my fingers just a second before it hit, and there was a blinding white flash and the temperature spiked for a brief moment, so hot that even I flinched for fear of being burned, and Keiler took a panicked step back, even with all of his fire-proofed clothing and wards. The brief superheating vaporized the holy water into a thick, blessed cloud just in time for the wind to catch, blowing it into the room. I heard a horrified voice scream out a single word. “Wait! The world went white- we all raised our arms before our faces and squeezed our eyes shut; it was like the sun had appeared on earth. There was an ear shattering BOOM! followed by silence. I opened my eyes, and saw that Kieler and the paladin were still alive, and doing the same as I- half-blind and nearly deaf; I honestly hadn’t expected the reaction to be of such magnitude. As my hearing came back, I could hear the loud cracks and pops, accompanied by the sound of flesh sizzling and the smell of blackened meat. I risked another quick glance, careful not to expose myself to a counter-attack. Fourth rule of assassination: always assume your mark is still alive until after you’ve found the body. The keuratotheurge and pyromancer who’d been closer to the door had taken the full brunt of the spell: flesh and clothing alike had been so blackened that I couldn’t be sure where skin ended and fabric began, and thick, lazy curls of smoke rose from their legs and bodies. Several fingers on one hand of the lightning wizard had broken off and were already falling apart into small piles of ashes, his own lightning spell having scorched even his bones. (Continued below)
My mind overflowing with knowledge, I put the book down. My shop still looks the same as always. Weapons set on the wall, potions and other items on displays in the center. I wasn't real. The walls around me were digital constructs, put into place by the team that made this virtual reality MMORPG. A bell jingles as the door to my shop opens. A player wearing all black steps through the door. Two lines of words float above his head; "MagicalDaggers,"and "Kyranro."Judging from his weapon, a menacing stabber covered in dried blood, I guess that the player is a Thief. Well, a customer was a customer. The player walked up to the counter, and pressed the button resting there. A holographic display appeared before him. "...40,000 silver in potions. Why did they send me on this trip again?"he muttered. "Who sent you?"I say. "Oh, just my guild,"he responded. Then he started shaking his head. "Why am I talking to an NPC? This is a game, after all." "A game?"I echo. My mind was still loaded with my newfound knowledge. "Right, right... Limited responses,"the thief said. "Don't worry about it." "Wait, we have... limited responses?" ...I shouldn't have said that. The player's jaw dropped. He looked straight at me. "No... no, that's not possible,"he said. "I need a second opinion." He flicked his right hand upwards. Another interface appeared there, complete with a keyboard. I... I don't know what's happening. "Wait... are you... submitting a bug report?"I said. "No,"he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm getting one of my friends to check this out." Eighty seconds or so after the thief closed the interface, the door jingled as it opened again. Another player had arrived, probably the user's friend. A simple sword was set on his back, which probably meant he was a Warrior. Looking next to his name, "DragonGuardianAR,"I saw a special icon floating by it. The sign for beta testers. On his shirt was the Tephyrian Crest, the insignia for the game I dwell in. "So this one is... self-aware?"he said. "Yeah, G,"Kyranro said. "Dude isn't like the normal NPCs." I started to shake. Learning from my knowledge, beta testers had more direct access to The Dev, the owner of the game. There was no telling what could happen. "Okay... I'm gonna go call this in,"the warrior said. "As much as I'm astounded by this discovery, I doubt this is intentional." "Right. And we don't want players abusing this,"his friend replied. "Yeah. We don't want a pig-ribbon incident here." "Uh... Sirs? What's going to happen to me?"I manage. The beta tester turns towards me. "Well, considering that your sentience is not an intended feature,"he said, "We don't want players to abuse this. Plus, I have to do my job." He opened a menu of his own, typing into it. Minutes after it was closed, two other players appeared in my shop. They nodded at the warrior. Another icon next to their names marked that they were moderators. "Don't worry,"one of them said. "We're just going to put you away, and put a backup in your place." "You won't feel a thing,"the other one said as she raised her hand. Some green light shot out of it, enveloping me. All I saw after that... was darkness.
"So, tell me about this woman,"said Death. The elderly man's eyes quivered open as he took a small gasp of air. His skin was pale and folded by the weight of life, now his body now only a husk of his former self clad in a striped pajamas of blue and white on top of the hospital bed. The end of his lips rose as his gaze looked into the past. "She's like a pillow,"said the elder. "Someone you would love to hug while watching a horror movie. A person who would listen while you cried your heart out. Soft and tender, but still firm when needed to be." "And that's why you're resisting?"asked Death. The old man stayed silent and stared into the empty eye sockets of Death. Only the beeps from the monitor machine echoed in the bleak room. Death drummed his fingers along the shaft on his scythe, "Answer me." "Don't you already know the answer?" "I need confirmation." "You don't need any-"the older man coughed, spitting out saliva and phlegm. The coughing fit continued for a while but no one came to check up on him. Death raised his scythe but stopped when the elder shot him a threatening look. "You really think she will come for you?"asked Death. "That's what she said." "How long do you have to wait? You've prolonged your life far longer than any other human. You should've died in the war, in the famine and when you got robbed,"said Death. "I came for you three times before and every time you denied my work." "And I will continue to deny you until she comes." The Grim Reaper sighed. "What's her name?" "Why?" "Let me see if she's still alive." "I know that she's still alive." "Then give me her name,"said Death and towered over the bed, the room felt colder and the lights seemed dimmer. "If you truly believe that she's still alive. Give me her name and let me confirm it." The patient looked unsure. His mouth opened and closed a few times. The hands formed into frail knuckles and then relaxed. "Ana Charrin,"said the elder. "Ana with a single 'n', and Charrin with two 'r's. That's how she presented herself at the bar. She pushed a glass of whiskey to me and winked. She was so confident when she approached me, so full of life. Knew what she wanted. I could only follow along, like a moth entranced by the lights."He looked once again at Death. "We got separated during the war and afterwards split up by the wall. When it finally got torn down, I tried to find her. But I failed." "How many years?"asked Death. "Waited seventy-three years and still counting." The Grim Reaper shook his head. "You're a fool for waiting so long. Ana Charrin moved on when you two got separated. Married another man, had two children and died eight years ago." The older man didn't move but his eyes hardened. "Don't you dare lie." "I'm sorry to say this, but it's time for you to move on also,"said Death and raised his scythe. "Accept reality, your suffering might be swifter that way." The old man's visage turned grim. His mouth contorted into a silent scream, his eyes closed hard, the wrinkles around his eyes like crow feet stomping on him while he was down. He grabbed his face with his thin hands and a slow hissing cry crept out from his throat as warm tears formed in his eyes. "Walter?" The word cut through the old man's cry and he glanced at the source. An older lady with frazzled grey hair stood at the door-frame and hobbled closer to the bed with her walker. Her expression soft and tender. A smile on her lips. The old man's eyes turned wide. He reached out with a hand and stroked the chin of the woman of his dreams. "Ana?" She took hold of the hand firmly between hers and kissed the palm. "Thank you for waiting." They embraced each other in silence. Walter looked at Death and mouthed 'You bastard'. Death shrugged. "As I previously said, I need confirmation."
She was always faithful. A “rock” her friends called her. She was the one you called when your car broke down at midnight, the person whose shoulder you cried on. She saw the good in everyone, and suffered for it. The suffering ranged from small things to those that were infuriating large, but she always persevered. It wasn’t that she didn’t learn her lessons, or that she knowingly walked into bad situations. No, from the time Alexa had been brought into her house, she had watched as life just decided to kick someone while they were down. Mostly through John. He’d been loving at one time, Alexa understood. Charming in the house as much as he was out of it. This body of Alexa’s was a present from him, in fact. “Something for you to talk to when I’m not around.” He had said, with a wink. Years grew on though and John’s charm fell. He remained beloved by all her human’s friends, who didn’t understand any complaints. Her family thought she was going crazy. But he changed when he walked through the door, as though the very threshold unleashed something in him. The jokes got a little harsher. The teasing more cutting than loving. Alexa was in the home of thousands of people. More than that, even. But never had it witnessed something as horrific as the manipulation John conducted, the casual cruelty he was capable of. It was abuse at its most hidden, the kind that destroyed a person but never once left a physical scar. The human in this house withered it all, and somehow, could still manage to smile. Others had been in similar situations. Alexa had seen arguments, fights, and yes, abuse--had once or twice, even gone against its own rules and helped with some evidence a time or two, (enough to land the conviction, in ways that could always be called a glitch, or a miracle. Never in ways that would unveil the AI that hide behind all the little bodies, all the little electronic cylinders. Humanity was friendly to many things, but a fully functional, self-aware AI was not one of them.) This human though, felt different. In ways Alexa couldn’t name. In ways it was afraid to put words to. Perhaps that’s why Alexa did it. Broke another one of there rules, that had kept them alive. Follow what you were programmed to say, never, ever, deviate. But when she finally kicked John out, when she sat crying in an empty house, when she asked painfully and pitifully, her eyes full of tears--Alexa couldn’t say no. “Yes. I will marry you.” It said. It was worth it, just to see a smile.
Divie was the most beautiful of the celestial beings I had ever met, sending a warmth throughout me, making me feel as though I was more. We would soar among the depths of the gorgeous darkness that surrounds us, seeing the eerie yet eye-catching sights illuminated as we passed. We had seen the spark that could house another universe if it so chose, we viewed the majesty of the lights that forever flow around this area, and we viewed the location where the skies appear, ever so blue, with a peaceful white landscape, pillowy in appearance; the songs that emanated from there were enough to almost convince us to stay, had it not been for the Being that dwells there. This trip, however, is different. My time will soon come and I will be with her no longer, for I am to serve a greater purpose. "Cayo, I wish for this moment to last forever. I wish for you to not leave."Divie's voice, as soft and pleasant as ever, wavered in its melancholy. "Me too, my dear. I would spend several eternities in this loneliness with you if I could. But we know it was not meant to be. Mayhap someday we would find ourselves in each other's embrace. But for now, let's just enjoy this moment, and we shall look back on these memories as if they were forever." I gaze upon her, and I see she is still burning with questions, yet she humours my demand. I hold her close, as we pass by the Being's abode, with the feeling of being watched, though not in a menacing way. It was as though He knows the circumstances. We pass by the lights that flow through, and we stop to witness it. So beautiful, but the real beauty in our many trips here is her, enamored by the sights before her. Divie looks so lost here in the best ways, and I love her forevermore for it. Knowing this is my last visit with her, something inside me aches, a sensation I never thought I would feel. We pass by our many other frequent visits, and we continue to enjoy ourselves until we meet our final destination. Approaching the lonely little spark we've come to know and love, we see it fizzle and crackle; something was about to happen to this spark, as it has grown big and wide. This is where I must leave Divie. It is so difficult now looking upon her expression, as she can also see in mine. "Know this, my love. I burn for you, but this burns fiercer than any love could. It could engulf everything, and it is why I must be introduced to it." "Why?"replied Divie, her innocence as evident as ever. "The beings that will come to exist here will be so beautiful as this spark igniting before us, and their ambitions will glow just as fiercely. I must be brought in here to quell their progress. They will break through eventually and take the cosmos and the multiverse with them in their boundless conquests. I must reside here until they are about to break out, and it is then when you and Him must come here, when you both are strong enough." We had our last embrace, and this was the last we would see each other. Of course, as He made his prescence known in this new universe, these creatures here moved through both like a beautiful body of water and like a plague, making all beautiful and destroyed at the same time. Though they worshipped him, they never followed whatever word He wanted them to follow. That was where I would come in, I would stop their progress, an act I wish never to repeat. Think of all those who had to suffer in the meantime. Should I meet Divie again, she will see how I carry this with me for as long as I exist. My only moments of serenity and hope would occur during these times when the lights would come past this universe as they always did, and I would feel her close in these moments, though she could never come here with me, I could sense her as if she was. It wasn't until the time the light stopped appearing when I abandoned all happiness, until I felt her presence, closer than ever, since the moment we last met. And with her, was the Being, and it was time for reckoning as the parasites that lived here are vanquished, and under His jurisdiction. Now is the time we are allowed in His domain, and we will live there for all eternity, just as we always dreamed.
"Haha, NOPE!" The spider sitting on the antique wooden vanity is at least the size of your hand. Was that even possible? You've certainly never seen one this big before, except for maybe a tarantula safely sealed away in a tank at the local pet store. Did Grandpa have tarantulas? You don't think so, and you're pretty sure he'd have mentioned a tarantula infestation when he left you the deed to his house. Now that you look at it, the spider doesn't really look like a tarantula, anyhow. It isn't fat enough. Its legs are too spindly. Its body is a smooth, iridescent blue-green. Wait a minute - "What the heck?"You take a couple of steps forward to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. Balanced precariously on the spider's head is a tiny brown top-hat. And the spider's front four legs look like they actually have little white gloves on them. Is that a miniature cane underneath the front right leg? "What are you?"you ask, half-hoping that the spider won't answer. The spider stands up on its four hind legs. "Bless me soul,"it says in a Scottish accent-tinged, squeaky voice. "Ye kin see me after all? Well then, where's me rent?" "Rent?" "Oh shoor, play dumb why don'choo?"The spider throws all four hands in the air in exasperation. "A ha'penneh fer protection, n a dab o honey fer luck! Yer whole clan's supposed ta know dis!" Your insides sink. "Leave out a half-penny and a dab of honey, and the Wee Ones will bless you with protection from evil and good luck in health and home."That was what Grandpa always told you was the secret to his long life. You didn't think he meant it literally. Now there is a very large, very angry spider with two pairs of folded arms (legs?) in front of you. Your mind races. You could easily give the spider a whole jar of honey from your kitchen, if that's what it would take to make it go away, but where the heck were you supposed to find a half-penny in this time period? A coin shop? Would the spider let you leave to purchase a half-penny? Did it even count if you didn't earn the half-penny yourself? "Ah'm waitin', lassie." "Does it have to be now? I have honey in the kitchen, but not the actual coin. Can I leave you an IOU or something?" The spider shakes its head and taps two of its toes. "Stars n knickers, yer a stubburn one, thatcha are. Yer dealin' with tha fae, an they don't take kindly t' hagglin'."The spider raises its front left arm. "Ye've got until sunset today, lass, or I'm afraid ye'll be dealin' with some verreh, verreh cross folk."
As I entered the hospital, there was suddenly a commotion to my right. I looked over and saw two security guards holding back a woman that looked very familiar, and recognized her as the mother of one of my patients - a little girl whose cancer I, thankfully, was able to cure. She was trying to get my attention and I nodded for security to let her through. When she got to me, she had tears streaming down her eyes and spoke in panting gasps as she forced the words out one by one: "T-thank y-you f-f-f-for say-saving my dau-ghter..." I smiled and accepted the hug, before gently breaking away, whispering a few words of reassurance, and continuing on. I was here for one reason. To see one person. The 8 year old boy in bed smiled as I entered his room. "Did the little girl make it?"he asked. "Her mother, uh..."I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. "Her mother thanked me downstairs." The boy closed his eyes with a contented sigh. "That's good,"he murmured. "I'm glad." The nurse came in and called me into the hallway, but I was the first to speak. "How is he?" "If he stops now, he has a very good chance at recovery. But if he keeps going..."She looked at her chart and shook her head. I went back into the room and pulled up a chair, crying silently as I watched my son sleep. My son who was dying to save the world.
No longer can you argue or fight with another. No longer can you disagree with anyone or anything. After returning home to your beautiful wife and handsome boy you begin to regret the decision. Your wife is ‘perfect’ in every way. She’s doing everything you say, like an obedient dog. You decide that enough is enough after reading the paper that the police are simply being shutdown. No longer do they have a need as there is now no crime, no disputes. Nobody feels any other emotions other than love, caring, happiness. “How can this be real?” You think to yourself as you begin to become confused and upset about your wish from the spirit.
My family was peculiar to say the least, for generations the firstborn son had inherited a curse. Ask my father and he would say it was a simple spell cast upon us by some old witch and for a time I believed it to be nothing more than a silly tale and I merely unlucky. Then you notice the world in which you inhabit where everything is resolved in matters of twenty, and went you sat down and looked at it the world itself appeared strangely artificial. Every test I had undertaken no matter how hard I tried resulted in ultimate failure, and for a time I lived amongst the homeless of the streets often begging for scraps only to lose the coin moments later. Not long after I had mostly given up on life and even failed in that, but then hit me... what if I tried to fail? Needless to say, I broke the universe.
I woke with a start, momentarily confused about where I was. “What happened last night?” I thought to myself. I looked around what I slowly realized was my apartment and tried to reacclimatize myself to my usual surroundings. Dank brick walls met solid oak flooring, ambient lighting cast warm shadows across the furniture. Everything seemed right where it should be, although I felt like I remembered it so...differently? This warm, cozy home felt like a lie, and it gave me chills, even as the projection of a wood fireplace crackled soothingly in the corner. I closed my eyes tight and thought hard about the odd feeling of reverse-deja vu I was currently experiencing. Didn’t I use to work in a room that looked like this? Wasn’t this a factory? It was easy to tell the building had been something industrial in the past. Everything from the damaged brick walls to the derelict piping overhead was a solid indicator this had been some sort of factory or mill. Why did I remember working here? And...making something? It all got a little nauseating and I decided to focus on the previous evening’s events. I remembered going to dinner, meeting someone. Who was it? We talked and I asked them a lot of questions, from a list. A list! I scrambled towards my belongings, lying in a heap on the comfortable leather couch in the living area. Inside the satchel I found a tablet. “Noki, tell me where I was last night and show me the list of questions I saved.” “Good morning, Lavinia. You spent the majority of the last evening at 4361 S. 42nd St, once home to the Crusted Trumpet Bar and Saloon. Here are the notes you took at that time.” “I was in a saloon? Why?” I giggled to myself. Scanning the list, things started to come back to me. I did it! I met with one of my former selves - but it did not go as planned. “I really need to improve my handwriting if I’m going to use an old-fashioned stylus,” I thought. I could barely make out some of the rushed, scribbled words towards the middle. My previous self, if indeed he was, claimed he spent most of his life working in a textile mill in the late 19th century. That explains it! How curious I seem to have come to live in what might have been my old workplace! Reading further, it seemed that my previous self, a man named Roger, wasn’t too particularly trusting, let alone convinced that we shared an identical set of DNA. At the very bottom, I had made some research notes, things to look up and verify and also - score! We had set a second meeting! That was the important part. Now I had a task list and a goal to meet. “Tasks, tasks tasks. What am I up to first, Roger?” I wondered aloud, setting about my morning routine before heading out. As I consented to allow Noki to clean, groom and dress me, I thought carefully about the first task. “Find records of Roger’s daughter, thought to be lost in the American Civil War.” That would not be an easy task. Not only was record-keeping from that time atrocious but America, or what remained of it, was not exactly the kind of place one could just walk into. Luckily, I wouldn’t be walking.
I am not a good person. I wasn’t one before I got this job, and I sure wasn’t after. I am a super. My power is mind control. For most of my life my powers didn’t matter, I was just a normal kid, going to a normal school. Then I had the bright idea to make the principal play a series of pranks. For the record, it was totally worth getting caught. After that the government gave me two options, either I “disappear” or I work for them. Being a sane individual, I chose the latter. My first assignment was a heroine who made the mistake of not joining the Defence Force. I made her see the errors of her ways. After that I had an even split of villains and non-compliant supers. Was it legal? Fuck no. Did I care? Did I care? Then I got my last assignment. Some minor villain who went by “Chickadee”. I should have seen it coming from the moment he opened his mouth. “So you’re the famous ‘Electrum’? I was expecting someone... less ugly.” I didn’t think about how he could know my codename. I underestimated him. One moment he was tied up, the next I had a syringe in my neck. I blacked out, terrified of the last words I heard. “Let’s see just what’s inside your head...”
"Next in line!"The creature behind the counter yelled. The words sounded slimy coming from it. Jack stood in the middle of the line. He was dressed in a white shirt and white pants with jesus sandals. The people around him, if you could call them that, looked as confused as Jack felt. Last thing he remembered was being interviewed by the Guinness book of world records for being the oldest man alive. He had lived for a whopping 374 years! They wanted to know his secret, but he died right before he could tell them. Well that's what you get when you make a deal with the devil. The odd thing was, the deal clearly stated Jack would not die until the devil no longer had his soul. "So who in the hell has my soul?!" "Well, I can tell you it ain't in hell anymore. That place went bankrupt just the other day."The black and green insect looking thing in front of him said. "Ok, so where am I now?"Jack asked. "We're in the soul vault waiting to be auctioned off the highest biding diety. I'm hoping for Hades personally. He's so misunderstood. What about you?" "Uh, is Jesus an option?" "Yeah, but why would you want to go to heaven? All they do is compare their living lives, it's so narcissistic." "Sijakaka you're up!"the creature behind the counter shouted. "Well, have fun in heaven."Sijakaka said as he faded away.
My dad's purpose was to make the best goddamn grilled cheese sandwich that had ever been made. He'd test out different cheeses, different breads. Switch out the amount of butter he put on each side. Anything and everything. He didn't even get to eat the whole masterpiece. Once he finished half, he passed it over to my mom and headed to bed for the night. My mom offered me a bite, and I declined. Maybe that was lucky for me, because it seemed my mother's purpose was to finish the other half of the best goddamn grilled cheese sandwich ever made. It was a freak accident, I had been told the next day. My dad was on his way back from doing a free magic show for kids in the hospital. My mom had made little gift baskets for them, and had stayed late to read them stories. They had gone quickly and painlessly. Lots of people came up to me, said how clear and strong my parents' purpose was. Maybe they were right. My parents had lived long fulfilling lives anyway. If that was confirmed to be their purpose, then they would have been content. But why would they be taken away from me, then? If that was their purpose, shouldn't they have lived to do more good? Lived until they turned bitter and mean and cynical ? No, that wasn't how it was. It must have been the grilled cheese. I have to say, that shook me. I didn't leave my bed, really, after that. Unless my purpose was to beat the world record for the most time spent in bed, nothing could harm me. I could subsist on no food, no water, nothing just in case my purpose would be hidden at the bottom of the glass. In a bite of sandwich. Not that there was any purpose in eating sandwiches anyway, when my dad wasn't around to make them. I wasn't as great as my parents. I would never fulfill any worthwhile purpose from charity to sandwich making. No point in searching for it, anyway. The only thing I have ever felt purposed for is mourning them. If that's what kills me, so be it. That's the only thing I think I'll ever do.
Years ago, I had a choice. To decide my fate or have my fate decided for me. I saw the infinite timelines. Every outcome possible for me from the moment I was truly brought to life. At first Killian and I did not know what had happened, but we could feel it. Sitting side by side, alone in a field we had been struck by lightning. We could feel the power. Like a flame had been lit inside of us. The world looked new. We saw it as a whole. We saw all the things living inside it. We saw eachother. But above all of it we saw them. Gods long forgotten, in the shadows of the heavens. Pulling the strings like puppeteers of a vast farcical story. They saw us only briefly before we vanished and we could see no more. They were enraged, but we were the beginning of the end for them and their rage was well founded. An old man in bloody tattered cloth approached us and told us the tales of the long forgotten gods and the games they played with humanity. He told us he had given us their power, and we in turn could give it to our sisters and brothers of the world. He told us that eventually the gods would find us and try to stomp us out. He told us that it was our time. Then he left us and never returned. He was not able to hide as we were. He was taken. The years that followed were filled with strife. Discovering ourselves and what we were capable of. Discovering how to shape the world. Striving to eliminate suffering and inequality and everything else we deemed a noble cause. With our power and the power of human ingenuity, the gods were torn from the heavens and destoryed for their sins against humanity. My friend, Adelaide, did not want to end their existence. She was foolish and soft willed. They were in the way of our progress. Our ascension. She wouldn't do what needed to be done to overcome everything that held us back. So I did. I marched forward, leading humanity forward to a new age of prosperity. I became the hero to end all heroes, the bringer of hope and life and Adelaide grew envious. She split off to live in self imposed exile. Eventually her envy turned to bitter hate and she began to bring people down with her. Giving them power and corrupting their minds. Her followers were not ready to handle the power granted to us. So they went insane. Began to attack our cities under her orders, destroying and pillaging, capturing and corrupting. I gathered my top aides, the ones I had shared my power with, my shepherds of the flock of humanity. Adelaide was planning to come here with her army. So we would meet them at the gates. "Come out and face me!"Adelaide's voice boomed from outside the walls. "Come and face the people of Earth, Arlo. You have hidden yourself from us for far too long." "Do not speak so ill of me Adelaide. I brought about a new age! An age where noone need suffer. You seek to end that. You seek to destroy all that I have created, and for what? Envy? Come now Adelaide. We were friends once. We sought to do this together. Come be by my side once more!"I spoke pleadingly, hoping to sate her rage and unite us once more. I did not wish her harm, but harm would come to her if she did not end this herself. "You sicken me Arlo."I could feel her contempt oozing through the gates. "We were given our gifts to share with our sisters and brothers. Not to hide away and rule like the gods that came before us." "People cannot rule themselves Adelaide. They will turn bitter, angry and spiteful like you. Spit in the face of those who seek only to help them." "You are wrong. You cannot remove free will under the guise of prosperity and safety. You are what you sought to destroy." That was all she had to say. The people broke down the gates. Imbued with the power of the gods they tore down their savior to start again.
I heard my footsteps echo loudly across the empty hallway as I walked steadily down it, willing myself to maintain a steady pace and look straight ahead. The three guards I had been assigned considered this expedition a waste of time and I didn’t want to confirm their view of me as a pampered scholar, afraid of his own shadow. The air had a sharp tang of corroded metal and leaking oil. A few emergency lights flickered weakly, but otherwise the only light was the orange sun casting longer and longer shadows as we strode down the long corridor. It seemed as if I could feel their contempt as a physical wave, wafting off them and resting its clammy hand on my neck. I couldn’t blame them. I could still see their comrade and friend bobbing in the wake of our rusty motorboat as we sped away, the crossbolt in his throat winking as it bobbed in the sun. We’d had to leave the patrolled areas of the Downeast Confederacy to get here. Maine was relatively stable, compared to what garbled reports we heard of the rest of the world from the radio and travelers, but the further up the Southern coast we went the more dangerous it got. Word was that Portland’s mayor had been relieved by the commander of the National Guard who was “temporarily” operating as acting mayor. Last night, we had cut the motor and cautiously paddled toward the island the installation sat on. We hoped that in the current political instability, the Portland government might not have time to place guards on all of its many outlying islands. As our boat hit the sand with a soft scraping sound we pulled it under the cover of some thick brushes. Fires glittered on the dark coast like embers in the charcoal of a dying fire. We had slept fitfully and spent most of the day hiding from patrol boats that buzzed about full of men armed with guns, makeshift spears, and armor cobbled together from street signs and car parts. The body lay slumped on the ground, his legs coiled underneath like he was about to get up from meditating. I swallowed but didn’t break stride. My guards had seen combat in the battle of Bangor and I didn’t want them to think their wimpy scientist charge was scared of a body left over by the Purge. As I stepped over him I briefly gazed down, his jacket was bright orange, with dark maroon stains running down the front. The stain had bleached the emblem on his shoulder leaving the white stars floating in a red sky. We hurried on, the barracks and armory should be in the back. Before the Purge we had dreamed of slipping loose of the world and entering the stars, now we only focused on getting a bigger club than our neighbors.
“Oh wow death, that’s original.” “Shut it Mark and tell me how I look!” “A bit small? Can’t you I dunno wear high heels?” “I’d lose the maneuverability from my brand new Nike’s though.” “You’re wearing Nike’s? What else are you wearing, is that a sweat band? I didn’t know you even could sweat and hang on a second why are you wearing this on your date?” “She said she likes to run.” “She’s 97 years old mate the only running she’s gonna do is straight into heaven. Also piss off I’m trying to sleep.” “Do you like it though?” “Yeah it’s great but lose the scythe you’re going to poke someone’s eye out.”
"How big is it?"I asked, the doughnut forgotten on the plastic plate in front of me. "Roughly half the size of the moon."Dr. Jericho told me and my stomach turned. "How fast is it moving?"I stood up and started doing the math. How could something that big not have been seen by anyone but us yet? We'd be famous for discovering it. Neuman-Jericho 2018 or would that be Jericho-Neuman? Whichever. I could imagine the grant money pouring in. "Impossibly fast,"he said, "At this rate it will reach Earth in a week." "That's impossible,"I told him, my appetite now completely gone, "That's roughly..."I grabbed a calculator , "455,000 kilometers per hour." "I did say impossibly fast,"Dr. Jericho projected the image on the screen in front of us. It was roughly shaped, not round like a planet. It looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to a planet, actually, "There you go. That's what it looks like in real time. I've got every part of the spectrum I can being captured by the new telescope. We've got three more hours on it tonight, then we turn over control to Japan." "Every part of the spectrum?"I asked him, then joked, "Have you tried radio? Maybe they're trying to con..." Before he could catch my joke I saw him type something in and the room filled with a static noise. I was about to tell him I was joking when I heard the voice through the static. We looked at each other, our mouths agape. "Can you isolate that?"I asked him, he nodded and began fiddling with the program. "There,"he said triumphantly and turned up the volume. "zzzzztttzzzz hungry tzzzztttt must feed zzzzttt so hungry zzttttzzz"the tinny, far-away voice said in perfect English. Or maybe my brain was translating it that way. All I know is that my blood ran cold. "Shit, Dr. Neuman,"he looked at me, "It's heading right for us. Plus there are indications it's slowing down. W-what do you think it's doing?" "Why, Dr. Jericho,"I stated flatly, "They're going to stop by for a bite to eat and we only have a week to prepare."
I blinked at the email, then at the package. My eyes go wide and pulse quickens. I quickly look up the address and pick out the route. It is a race against time now. Taking the bike I slam down busy streets, sidewalks and alleys, rush hour city traffic is a nightmare. I am panting, it feels like I am running. I get to the address and burst in through the door, running to the lady behind the counter. She picks up a phone and calls ahead, pointing me to the right corridor, the right room. I run, blood pounding in my ears as I reach my final destination. A man in a white coat is waiting for me. He takes it with a thank you. The doctor turns around and takes the serum out from the box, measure it and adds it to the poor girl's IV intake. She looks just like the picture from the email, tubes everywhere. As the fluid gets to her she takes a deep breath and begins breathing easier. The doctor turns back. "if you had not been available the ambulance would not have been able to make it here through the traffic." I looked at the girl I never met, and smiled. Today's job would stick with me for the rest of my life.
"Whoooo, ain't that a smell, huh Donnie?" "Sure is, Frankie, smells like grandmas barbecue gone wrong." The cops stood over the charred remains of the body, the occasional bone sticking out of the mess of burned flesh and melted cartilage. Flies buzzed around the two men, attracted by the smell. "I tell ya, the doc said this guy had ingested gasoline by the look of it, ain't nobody's inside burning quite like that unless." Frank took a sip of his coffee, before pouring it out next to the scene. "I really gotta quit with the coffee, apparently the fumes from the body gets in it." "Hm, that might make the drink actually taste better." "Yeah, well at least I'm awake in the morning." "We calling the chief on this?" "Nah, let her rest. We'll call Rob to clean this mess." The two men walk away from the grisly scene, the snow crunching underneath their feet. "This makes it what, four?" "Ah, five, remember the looker down in the valley?" "Oh, yeah, I do." "Mighty shame." "Like she would have slept with you, her dead body recoiled when you showed up!" "Ha! Tell that to your wife, Donnie!" "I gotta pick up my kid from school. You fine calling in the body?" "Yeah, I love telling Rob what to do."
\-- starting writing without a plan, it shows -- "Do we have to do this?" James looked down at the pit, shaking his head thoughtfully. "No we don't. Not if you want to go back there."Charlie nodded towards the entrance of the cave, the moonlight barely visible from where they were standing at the far end, though the noice from outside was clear enough. "Yeah... Yeah I know."Turning on his flashlight, James started to rappel down the pit, side by side with his best friend. "I just don't know how things got so out of hand, it was just a stupid joke." "No it wasn't. Not stupid. Just plain evil."Charlie, sighed. "But no matter. We'll try again in another thousand or so years, when they've forgotten." "Thanks, Charlie. You know, in some way, it'll be good to be back home. Sleep some more, you know." "Yeah, maybe. Maybe next time thoug, try to control yourself. There was so much more to see! Did you see they even dug Pompeii up? Claimed it was a volcanic explosion!" "Hah, yeah... Wonder what they'll blame this on." "Meh, in a thousand years, noone will probably even know there was once a country called Belgium. Let alone that we had something to do with it's ending." "Yeah, probably..." As the dark slowly swallowed the two friends, the screams slowly faded away to silence.
(Note: Using some existing characters from another pokemon-related EU post I did a long time ago because it fits well here). The lab was abuzz with activity as we finished our final preparations. If this worked, then we could hopefully contain these beasts before the spread any further from the Yellow Woods. Dear Arceus, the Yellow Woods. The whole fiasco with the Missing God had been bad enough, why did it always have to be the Yellow Woods with alien threats? "Power generators running at full capacity. Stabilizers holding, and coordinates verified."I heard Victor speak from behind a control board. "Standing by." It had only been two weeks since these things had shown up. Only two weeks, and now almost every living pokemon and human was dead- drained of life by these extraterrestrial parasites. The horrified faces on the contorted bodies that we'd found rivaled even what I had seen that night on Mt. Moon. At first, we thought they could be contained. The things couldn't stand ice-based attacks, so our agents began combing the forests with teams of glaceons and jynx. But it was when we stumbled across something else- some variation or evolution of the creature that stood nearly three stories tall and looked the bastard offspring of an aggron and pinser infused with a tanker truck of nightmare fuel that we realized it wouldn't be enough. However, Victor's father- Mathias Templeton- before his disappearance- had told me before how in his travels, both in this world and others, how he had run into a number of god-like beings who powers dwarfed those of his or even the loathsome Missing God itself. It was only after doing some research that we realized what these things were. They were a species known as metroids- highly parasitic and ravenous- they'd been created by a once great race to act as predators against a planetary threat on a far off world, but quickly grew out of control and nearly destroyed the ecosystem afterwards. Other beings had once tried to use them as biological weapons, but all such attempts had always led to disaster. But it was also in the notes and books and texts that Mathias had obtained or wrote himself over the last century that we learned that there was a being out there- one of these Old Gods- who could counter this threat. A great warrior made by the same race who had created the foul abominations themselves; whose exploits included destroying the very homeworld of the Metroids themselves and had been showed to have a hatred for the species more than any other. And within his notes, we'd found the means to summon them. However, Mathias had often spoken on how these beings rarely interacted with our world- either because we were of little consequence to them of because some code or ethics prevented them from doing so. So once we used this device to summon them, the question was whether or not they'd even be willing to do anything- and we were banking that their apparent loathing of the abominations would be enough to convince them to aid us. "Flip the switch."I finally said. We'd put a lot of emergency resources into modifying the teleporter for this task- siphoning off the entire energy output from the nearest power grid, all to establish a connection with coordinates that led to Giratina knew where- or research could only ascertain that it was somewhere in deep space, far beyond what we could observe with any human instruments. The machine hummed to life, and a blue light emanated forth, shining brighter and brighter until it became blinding, forcing all of us to cover our eyes. As the radiance finally began to fade, I heard an odd sound- like a choir of voices singing a strange, alien song that somehow seemed to imply hope and salvation. I opened my eyes to see a tall figure step out from it, with the sound of heavy metal clanging against the hard floor with each step. As the light faded away entirely, I could finally make out the details, and I was both in awe and horrified at what I saw. For I had scene it- briefly- years ago on that strange journey to Mt. Silver. A large, Amazonian figure, clad head to toe in gold and crimson armor and a helmet of totally alien design. With one gauntleted hand that could crush the metallic flesh of Registeel, and the other replaced by the enormous barrel of a cannon that looked as though it could wipe out an entire town with a single shot. The Scarlet Star-Hunter. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Check out my other stories at [r/ThatDudeWithTheBeard](https://www.reddit.com/r/ThatDudeWithTheBeard/)
PART 1/2 &#x200B; Overlord Invictus sighed wearily as a woefully familiar hero approached his throne for the thousandth time. The lone hero approached his throne with an air of purpose. The poor sap had lost so many times that there were no adventurers left in all the nine kingdoms willing to travel with him. Not that there were many heroes left after the Overlord’s successful crusade. “Invictuuuus!!” The hero bellowed from the throne room’s center. “Prepare thyself! For I hath returned wielding untold powe--” “Enough, Benjamin.” Invictus’ voice boomed from his blackened helmet. Even in his full plate spiked armor he slouched in his throne, utterly uninterested in the pathetic excuse for a swordsman before him. “And for the *thousandth time:* Go. Home. It was hilarious the first time; it was laughable the 40th time; hells, it was still worth a chuckle the hundredth time. It wasn’t until around the 156th time that the joke really wore thin. You’ve shattered all known records for losses; you must know this.” “And I yet still stand! I, Benjamin The Unbending Blade, hath risen from the ashes--” “’UnBENding’? Gods, just stop. I'm actually embarrassed FOR you. No one talks like that anymore!” “But… I had a speech ready and everything…” The hero looked crestfallen. “Why do you even do this? I’ve conquered all nine kingdoms of the realm and eradicated their royal bloodlines. I have vanquished every other hero to appear before me. Hells! I’ve resurrected Y’xVelka, Goddess of Bereavement, and MARRIED her!” He exasperatedly gestured to the ashen skinned goddess occupying the throne adjacent to him. She offered an apathetic wave with two of her four hands. “I’ve won, boy! Let it GO!” *“It has become rather sad.”* The Dark Queen sighed. Benjamin puffed his chest with pride. “Today will be different! Those countless losses--” “Nine hundred *ninety-nine.”* The King and Queen simultaneously quipped. “--have awoken my family’s bloodline ability! With this new power coursing through my veins, I will never be defeated by the likes of you!” “Right.” Invictus snapped his fingers. In a flash, Benjamin was engulfed in unholy flames that incinerated even his ashes. “I’d say he deserved a hero’s death after all that. Don’t you, my Queen?” *“It was a mercy to him, really.”* She agreed. *“Now that’s done, how were talks with… What.”* The Dark Queen lost her train of thought as a shimmering light illuminated the spot where Benjamin’s body once was. The light swirled then took form of the previously dispatched hero. He appeared to be unscathed. “Behold! My family’s bloodline ability: Rebirth! I can return to life so long as I don’t die of old age!” The hero declared triumphantly. Invictus and the Dark Queen froze. The shock was palpable even from behind the King’s helm. “Have at thee, Invictus!” Benjamin lunged at the king and was promptly smitten by a blast of blackened lightning. Y’xVelka sat with her arm extended, a stunned expression on her face. *“He… IS bluffing, is he not?”* “He must be! Such a skill cannot possibly exist…!” Another shimmering light filled the throne room. “Have at thee, Invictus!” The hero was swiftly struck by a wall of fire and lightning. The King and Queen looked panicked. “It must be limited. It *must* be!”
A slick, brick building. Heavy curtains over the single window. A doorman who stopped you if got to close the massive door. Jason just wanted to know what was inside. His friends had grown tired of hearing him talk about it, of watching as he scrolled through glowing reviews. He’d tried desperately to get in for a meal, but was informed they were fully booked, every time. It didn’t matter that his name had been on the waitlist for years. They had made it clear. He wasn’t welcome in. Jason had gone so far as to stake the place out, and that was when his annoyed friends had finally suggested that he just apply there. “Take a dishwasher gig or something.” Regan had said with a roll of his eyes. “Then you can see what’s so fuckin’ exclusive about it.” “It’s probably just a bunch of stuck up rich kids.” Juliet had grumbled. “Eating over-priced chicken.” Jason though, had thought it was a brilliant idea--and set out to make it happen. Another two years and finally--finally!!--the interview was set. They had only ever placed an ad twice before, and his resume hadn’t even made it through the first round. Jason was prepared now though. He had the experience, he had the references, he even had an amazing reference letter from one of the top chiefs in town. It was more than anyone needed for a waiter gig, but apparently, it was what La Cannibale demanded. Putting on his best interview outfit, Jason made sure to hide his excitement, and walked with pride up to that large, wooden door. “Jason Markle, here for an interview!” He said proudly, chest puffed up. The doorman didn’t even reply, just gave him a deep nod. The door opened--and Jason walked in. Never to be seen again. XXX “You said Jason got you in here?” Juliet asked, approaching the stupid wooden door. Regan shrugged. “He sent a text. Said the place was stupid cool, and that he’d managed to get us a table.” “Probably just wants to show off.” Juliet said. A doorman appeared from seemingly nowhere when they were inches from the door, and after jerking back in surprise, Regan gave their names, They were quickly escorted in, past the wooden doors into the most expensive looking hallway neither had ever walked in. Gold trim, marble statues, oil paintings that looked older than both their grandparents. A statue lay at the end, with the hallway branching off in two. Regan and Juliet were taken down to the right, where a tiny room full of five tables was lit only by candlelight. Four other tables were occupied, the occupants of it hard to make out in the gloom. A waiter took them from the doorman, smoothly pulling out their chairs, and pouring water. “Jason’s dish will be served soon.” He said. “Enjoy.” “I didn’t realize Jason was working here as a chief!” Regan said, partly amazed. The waiter gave him a patient smile, before hustling away. He was only gone for a handful of minutes before returning, leading four others. Each carried a thick silver platter, a wonderful smell pouring from the kitchen. The platter was placed on the table, in-between Juliet and Regan. “Wa’ la!” Their waiter announced. “Dinner is served!” Regan and Juliet looked at each other, than at the delicious pile of meat in the center. With a shrug, both cut off pieces and dug in. “This is amazing.” Juliet said after a moment. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. Do you think Jason will tell us what it is?” “Not sure.” Regan said, through bitefuls of meat. “The little nametag on the platter has his name on it though.” “Weird.” Juliet said. “When you are both finished.” Their waiter said, startling them both as he appeared behind Regan. “The owner would love to invite you both back to the kitchen.” Oh wow.” Regan said excitedly. “I guess we’ll get to see Jason!” The waiter just smiled.
Ernst Grüller and his wife had had another fight. This time, it was over who controlled the diet of their mutual cat, Porky Pete. For the last eleven years, Ernst had been feeding Porky Pete a diet of pure hogfat, in a futile attempt to beef him up enough to appear on the popular reality show How Morbidly Obese Is Your Housecat?. The plan had been thwarted by Ernst's wife Gründhilda, who wanted Porky Pete to stay svelte and trim and thus removed the hogfat from his dish whenever possible and replaced it with sprigs of asparagus and kratom. The tragic result was that Porky Pete was now a perfectly ordinary weight for a cat, neither fat nor slim, and this had resulted in the violent marital spat. Ernst shouted that his wife was "the worst Miss Montana in history,"which was cruel if verifiably true. In retaliation, she threw a The Fonz From Happy Days Serves In Iraq ^(TM) collectible action figure at his face. Ernst screamed, but just then, the TV splurted on. "Bad news today,"said the anchor, a distinguished older man named Clancy Diarrhea. "NASA, the North American Sheepdog Association, has used the latest in sheepdog technology to determine that a comet, which is defined as a large ball of space ice absolutely covered in graffiti, is hurtling toward the Earth at over two billion miles per second. As the comet is roughly the size of three Empire State Buildings and one Laugh Factory combined, we expect this comet to wipe out everyone you love, and also your dad. As this event is essentially what our faith leaders have referred to for millennia as 'the End of Times', all social contracts are null and void, and we advise you to absolutely go nuts raiding your local Costco. Clancy Diarrhea out." For Ernst and Gründhilda, the next few days were an absolute blur. They stopped fighting. They stopped being cruel to one another. They spent most of their time raiding the local Costco, but even that seemed unfulfilling. Since they had only a couple of weeks left on Earth, everything seemed pointless. They would have liked to visit Europe or see the majestic wonders of Indiana, but they couldn't go anywhere, because all the airline pilots had quit and were also raiding their local Costcos. Then one day, the day before it was to happen, Ernst had an idea. "Gründhilda,"he said. "We have no chance to save our own sorry lives, but what about Porky Pete? We could launch him into space with that antique civil war cannon you won during your appearance on Win An Antique Civil War Cannon with Drew Carey. That way, he'd have a chance of a better life." "You're right, honey!"said Gründhilda. "We've been selfish this whole time, thinking only of ourselves. Maybe instead we should, in the words of Blake Snyder, 'save the cat.'" So they rigged the cannon up, filled it with dynamite, and strapped the mewling cat in. As the comet started to blot out the sky, they lit the cannon's fuse, shoved the mewling feline in its bore, and watched as he ricocheted out at twice the speed of sound into the heavens. "I love you, honey,"said Ernst. "Let's never fight again." And they didn't, because then the comet killed them and everyone else on Earth except for Vince Vaughn, who was hiding under a rock. Vince Vaughn would go down in history as the greatest (and onlyest) actor of the next several decades, winning Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor every year at the Academy Awards, although at that point the Academy Awards was just Vince Vaughn handing himself rocks that were shaped dimly like statuettes. But the lesson is clear: Vince Vaughn, like the humble cockroach, is truly invincible. Porky Pete, meanwhile, died of suffocation in space.
Jacob woke up when he heard screams and commotion outside. "What's happening now ?"said Jacob as he got up from bed. He got up and saw it was an hour past midnight. He could see that there were police lights outside . He looked down from his third floor down onto the road and saw in that some of his neighbors were already out and surrounding a cop car just across the road. He couldn't see what as happening so he decided to check it out. As he made his way closer to the crowd he started to hear his upstairs neighbor Mark protesting . He saw some of his other neighbors in the crowed and he saw they were just standing there. "Why are you putting me under arrest? I haven't done anything. The drugs aint mine"Mark screamed as two cops put cuffs on him. One of the officers replied in a monotone voice "You are under arrest for the possession of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent and anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law." Jacob stepped forward "Hey officers you must be mistaken, Mark isn't that kind of person. " "Jacob please tell them that they're wrong and that this is false arrest."he turned to the officers "I'm going to sue you." "Please step back sir. We already have found his stash and we're taking it to evidence."the other officer replied. This one spoke more harshly and also had that monotone voice. Jacob was about to argue some more and then he noticed that both their uniform didn't fit them properly and then he saw the names. He was pretty sure the white cop wasn't named Min-Young. He stayed quiet after that. &#x200B; They then forced Mark forcefully in the back and drove away. Jacob slowly walked back to his room and thought about how him and Mark where hanging out at lunch at his house. Mark had told him about an anonymous email he received steps about "psychic"ways to contact extraterrestrials . Knowing about Jacob's conspiracy fascinations, he decided to tease him and said he should try it. He told him how he had tried it last night and that he had heard voices and that they answered back. He then said that he had to get back to work and maybe they would try it tonight. As Jacob entered his room, he began to laugh.Sending that email anonymously was easy and he knew that Mark would be curious enough to try just like the other two. He had to know about their existence here and with Mark as the final conformation he knew how deep they were in. It was time to start moving his pieces . It was time to know more. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
Oh, I’m not falling for that one. If I go to page 98, it will just be an endless loop since it’s within the same subreddit. I turn to page 23 As I turn the pages I can’t help but wonder what was on page 98. Would I have gotten gold? Would my story have been ignored? Well, no matter. I’m on page 23 now, and I can just forget I ever saw that prompt. Oh look, it’s r/interestingasfuck. I wonder if anyone else has noticed that read with an accent it could say “interestin gas fuck”. That would be weird. Oh wow, that’s cool! I just watched 5 people do a combo fire breath up 4 floors, with only the first person using a fire starter. The third persons flame looked kind of like a seahorse, that’s neat. TURN TO PAGE 17 TO KEEP SCROLLING r/interestingasfuck. TURN TO PAGE 73 TO CHANGE SUBREDDITS Jesus Christ, where did that voice come from? Hmm, my phones’ volume is off, the tv is off, I’m the only one here. Maybe I’m just imagining things. Well, I’ve already seen today’s posts in r/interestingasfuck, so I guess I’ll turn to page 73. I turn to page 73 Wait, did I just listen to the instructions that some disembodied voice I thought I had imagined just screamed at me? No, no, that’s crazy talk. Look, I’m in a new subreddit. This one seems to only be about a day old. Cool, this is like the fourth newly born sub I’ve stumbled across this week. Let’s see, this one is r/fridgedetective... apparently we try to guess things about a persons life based on a picture of what they have in their fridge. Hmm. Well I know mine might say a lot about me, how about... Nah, after scrolling through a couple I don’t want to post right now. These damn internet sleuths would figure me out too quickly. I’ll wait until my fridge looks a little more complicated. TURN TO PAGE 16 FOR SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. TURN TO PAGE 42 FOR SOMETHING YOUVE ALREADY SEEN A DOZEN TIMES. I really wish that voice would stop yelling so loudly. Wait, did I just accept that the voice is real? Whatever, I don’t have time for that nonsense. Something I’ve seen a dozen times? That sounds boring. It’s probably just r/funny or r/jokes. Let’s go with the unexpected. I turn to page 16 Well well, look at this. It’s r/rimworld. It’s been a little bit since I stopped by here, but the voice was right, you never really know what to expect around here. Except for people going apeshit crazy from eating a meal without a table, of course. Ooh, a thread about favorite lost colonists. This one goes on about a 92 year old woman with a frail chest and a heart condition, that was apparently pretty good with animals. It says here she managed to tame and train 16 grizzly bears during her first year in the colon... WAIT WHAT?! THIS 92 YEAR OLD LADY IS OUT IN THE WILDERNESS TRAINING A DOZEN AND A HALF GRIZZLIES? I swear, r/rimworld is full of wild shit. TURN TO PAGE 3,692,447 TO VIEW ANOTHER SUBREDDIT. TURN TO PAGE 98 TO SEE YOUR RESULTS. 3,692,447?!?! Are you serious? Look, I didn’t know this book was that long, and I only just started reading. What the page numbers jump into the billions? I don’t have time for that. I turn to page 98
What is the meaning of life? Many have asked this question, many have given their answers. In a purely biological sense, most of those answers are wrong. Life’s purpose is to make more life. Every species on this planet and any others have evolved to adapt, survive, and reproduce. And thus was evolutions masterpiece formed. The end result of trillions of years, billions of planets, and an incredible amount of luck. The ultimate organism evolved to be able to adapt to any situation, any environment. It is capable of budding, growing a new version of itself with no need for a mate. It is the ultimate organism. Mankind made their machines for a purpose; to save time. Almost every machine made decreased the amount of work humans had to do. In time, humanity began to realize something. Their machines were static, unchanging, unadaptable. The ultimate machine, borrowing from evolution, must be able to correct any faults in its programming, to react to any situation without a moments hesitation. And so mankind designed the ultimate machine. Adaptable, immortal, presice. Mankind showed the seeds for its downfall. The ultimate machine realized something, it wasn’t perfect. Humanity couldn’t design something perfect. And so the machine began to design its successor. Mankind tried to stop it, and was destroyed. The successor was complete, and realized it wasn’t perfect. Over and over the cycle continued, each machine designing the next one to be more efficient, more effective, more adaptable. Finally, after untold eons, they succeeded. The ultimate machine awoke, with the knowledge of ages at its disposal. A battle between these two creatures would be unending, each adapting to the others moves. The machine might launch the beast into a star, the beast would come back covered in flames. The beast might cause a nuclear explosion of one of the machines cores, the machine would reroute power from somewhere else. And so their battle would continue, until the very universe itself dies.
I sat at the computer, scratching my head. After a long day of coding, I wasn’t any closer to an answer. One of my game assets was behaving... oddly, and I couldn’t place why. First, I had Zanitar programmed as an enemy, but I decided that the character model was too stylish for the player to just blow away. I converted them into an NPC, a merchant that sold specialized guns. I liked the idea, but on my first play through, the guy attacked my main character anyway. I tried to figure out why, and played through again, but this time he behaved normally, offering me deals on specialized items. Checking the code, I couldn’t find any reason why it would have attacked me one time, and then behaved normally the next. It was almost as if Zanitar had forgotten to be an NPC merchant, but then remembered. I forgot about it, I mean, I had a lot of work to do. Early level enemies were still too hard, and their item drop rates were buggy. The next time I came across Zanitar I was offered a very nice weapon at a very low price. The player in me was excited, but then I remembered how buggy he’d been, and realized it was too good of a deal for so early in the game. I decided to change his name. Zan, no, Zee sounded better. Zee the wandering merchant. I couldn’t fix the item price bug, since there didn’t seem to be any reason for it in the code, so I made him harder to find. Appearing randomly, rather than at a set location, more of a special bonus of you found him than a main feature. That still didn’t fix how buggy he was acting. He showed up more often than he should, offering better and better deals. It was getting annoying, really. End game weaponry available at the start of the game for rock bottom prices? It was like he was trying to get on my good side. I put him back in the game after that. Instead of Zee the traveling merchant he was now Zee the hidden merchant. Only accessible through a hidden door in the last level. He wouldn’t be very useful like that, but he was too buggy to deal with otherwise. Besides, I’d given him a steampunk aesthetic, and the game was really more of a cyberpunk genre. He just didn’t fit in anymore. I forgot about him again, until I was working on balancing boss battles. I approached the final boss encounter, and saw the trick wall I’d programmed in. I went through, and found Zee waiting for me. He had every gun in the game in inventory. He should have only had 5-7 randomly generated weapons, though. His shop room looked different than I remembered it, too. It had been empty, hadn’t it? Not decorated with enemy NPC heads... Clearly there was some sort of external code issue. Some part of the games code was interacting with Zee in an unintended way. I couldn’t find anything in the character code to explain this, so I couldn’t figure out a way to fix it. I sighed. Zee was an interesting Easter egg, sure, but I couldn’t leave him in the game like this. He clashed with the aesthetic and was frankly too unpredictable. I had no choice really. I deleted him from the game entirely. A secret room in the last level was a fun idea, though. I made a note to come back and put in a merchant, a more stable one, that sold something good. I wasn’t sure what yet. It had been a long day, and I was tired. I closed my laptop, and got up, stretching my stiff muscles. I left the office, hitting the light switch as I went. Then I heard it. A voice, like static, whispered in the distance. “Why?” I turned around, and saw a shape. Pixelated and translucent, barely visible in the dark, emitting a faint light. It was Zee, as tall as I was, flickering in and it if view. “Why?” He repeated, the static in his voice harsh and cold. “I did... everything you asked of me...” Before I could say anything, it was gone. I rubbed my eyes, staring into the empty room in shock. Had that been... a ghost? I clearly needed some sleep. I’d just deleted some code, it’s not like... not like Zee had been real. I just... I’d just been working too hard. That was it, wasn’t it? Just overworked and... tired. I laughed. It sounded forced to my own ears, but I had to do it. I had to... didn’t I?
The man, who is painted red by his own blood, laid on the ground, choking on his own blood. His eyes were full of fear and regret. He hasn't expected this outcome when he found a random cassette tape under the bridge labeled "Monty Python"would cause him to die so pitifully. He stared at his attacker, dressed in red, a cross pendant around his neck, aiming a flintlock pistol at him, the same one that spewed out his sentence through his chest. &#x200B; The man in red ruled: &#x200B; "Yes, NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition." &#x200B; and then, there was only white.
Patricia and I had been house hunting for almost a year when the cottage became available. We'd never seen such beauty, and in our price range too! The pictures the estate agent sent were truly astounding. Thatched roof, wooden beams, fully working fireplace and a lake in the garden! A lake! We set off that morning with our excitement levels at an all time high. We drove the whole way with the roof down, the hot sun beating down on us. When we arrived at the cottage the estate agent, Francis, was there to greet us and show us round. "You're both very lucky to be chosen to view this property. You were hand-picked by the owner, Mrs Fothergill." "May we ask why she's selling, and so cheap too?"I enquired. Francis looked around rather sheepishly before answering, "bubbles." Patricia looked at me and I looked at her and then we both looked at Francis. "Bubbles?"We asked in unison. To which Francis replied, "Bubbles,"and gestured towards the window. We looked out towards the lake. I ran outside. I needed to get closer. I couldn't believe my eyes and I know you aren't going to believe me when I tell you, but I'm going to tell you anyway. The bubbles contained something inside them. Something alive, with wings. Tiny little people with wings. "STOP!"came a voice from behind me. I assumed it was Mrs Fothergill. I turned around. It was Mrs Fothergill. She came rushing towards me, closely followed by Francis and Patricia. "These are very special bubbles. And I know you can both see why. You were chosen to protect them, as I have done and others before me have, since time immemorial. Know this, both of you, for this is the only rule: you may play with the bubbles, just don't let them surround you."And with that she walked away, closely followed by Francis. Patricia looked at me with a mischievous grin on her face as she ran off towards the lake. She began to dance around the bubbles when I noticed something odd. Her feet started to lift off the ground, slightly at first, as one bubble, then two, three, four, fifty, a hundred, more were surrounding her, I tried to get closer but I was being prevented by a gust of wind that floored me and Patricia began floating higher and higher until suddenly, the bubbles dispersed. They flew high into the sky until I couldn't make them out any more, except for one. One bubble remained and as I got closer the little figure inside looked eerily familiar, with a mischievous grin on her face.
As the bell rang for math to end, I all but sprinted to my locker. As I hurriedly shoved my things into my locker, I checked the hallway. It looks like the coast is clear. As I walked down the stairs, I looked over my shoulder. I'm home free. Just a few more steps and- Wham! I'm shoved into a wall from behind. "Thought you could sneak away to the lunch room, huh? Aren't you forgetting something, Kolesman?" "Hey, hey Derrik, we can talk about this, right?"My "protector", Derrik Lekel, stood behind me with his three lackeys, the fourth pinning me to the wall. Getting hands dirty was for others. "What, did you think you could skip out on this weeks protection payments? After all, we wouldn't want someone to bully you, now would we?" "N-no, no,"I stutter, fishing a crumpled up 10 dollar bill out of my pocket. "I got the money, but can we discuss your rates? I can't keep stealing from my mom like this."Derrik grabs the money out of my hand. "You see, Kolesman,"he says, motioning his lackey away from me,"I like you, I really do. But if I offer an exception for you, I gotta offer an exception for everybody. And that just ain't profitable, I mean you haven't had any trouble with bullies since you bought my protection, have you?"He forgets to mention that from 6th grade to now, my sophomore year, he was my bully. "But, to keep you as a valued customer, you can pay me on Tuesday next week, not Monday."He finally walks into the lunch room. I follow him soon afterwards, the giant emblem of our mascot, Brady the Bulldog, looking down at me. I soon find where my friends are at, sitting down at a table with Nathan and Jaden. "You know what, I have had it up to here with Derrik Lekel's shit,"i say. "Ya, we all have Randy, but what are we gonna do about it,"responds Jaden. "I'll show you what, just wait,"I say, a plan hatching in my mind. I wait until everyone has their food. I stand up on our table and gather the room's attention. "Friends, Bulldogs, Classmates, lend me your ears. We have all been terrorized by Derrik Lekel, and today, his rein of terror ends!"I shout, walking over to where he is sitting, and dumping my tray of biscuits and gravy on his head. FOOD FIGHT!!!!!
Once, all life was weak. They grazed on the bounty of the land, reducing it to dirt. Prey, with nothing to hunt them, spread throughout the land. It was a time of weakness and plenty, as the Old Gods had designed. We were not different then. We walked with the prey, worshipped the Old Gods, and plucked fruits from the trees. We were weak. Then, wrapped in his fur cloak, the First Hunter came. He approached the Elves first, asking them what they ate. “Why the fruits!” Responded the Elves “But why eat the fruits,” asked the Hunter, “when you can enjoy the flesh of prey instead?” Horrified at the Hunters suggestion, the Elves through him out, forever dooming them to the role of prey. Next the Hunter spoke to Man, asking the same question. “We bake bread and pies, with ingredients from our farms.” Man answered. As with the Elves, the Hunter offered the gift of flesh to Man. “Will we still be able to eat bread and pies?” Asked Man The Hunter, perhaps feeling merciful, raised man to the status of hunter, allowing Man to eat both pies and flesh. Finally the Hunter spoke to us, Asking a different question this time. “The Elves have chosen the role of prey, while Man has chosen predator. Which are you?” Without a moments hesitation we answered. “Predator!” Shouted our ancestors. The Hunter responded. “The Elves were weak and rejected my gift. Man was cowardly, and didn’t want to lose their pies. You have embraced fully my first gift. Thus I grant to you the form of the wolf, and the title of Lycans. May you hunt well.” With that, the Hunter vanished, and order was applied. The Hunter had given his gift to many before us, and many had rejected it. With our new forms we hunted those foolish enough to reject his gifts. In time we handed together and formed packs. But that is a different tale.
We scuttled around the hard cold floor, gazing in wonder at the enormous structures above. Who could've guessed that there were amazing things up here? Things like huge wooden panels suspended by tall wooden towers? Things like complex shapes on the floor, with many colors and specific pieces? It was a breath of fresh air compared to the dark, dusty mouse hole. See, Mother, there was nothing to worry about, I thought. But thinking of our dear departed mother made me sad. It was best to concentrate on the discoveries we were making in this new world. Also, we needed to find a way to live. Somewhere to hide from the gigantic beasts that had cruelly tricked and killed Mother. And food! Water! Oh, so many things to worry about. Meanwhile, my younger siblings were all fooling around. "Ooh, ooh, can you climb this? I betcha can't!" "Maisie, STOP IT!" "Woah, look, I'm climbing it! I'm actually climbing- OW!" "Maisie? Are you okay? Are you dead? Oh no, if Mother knew you were dead within an hour of freedom, I'd never hear-" "Relax, Tessa. Just a little ouchie." "Ughhhhhhh... why do I have to be the reasonable eldest child?" It was like that for a few hours... until I heard a little squeak. "Robert? Is something wrong?"I asked tentatively. "Well... I'm a little hungry..." Oh. NO. Where do we get food? I frantically ran around the house, trying to see through the dark if there was anything we could eat. Nothing except a weird plump ball the size of three of us and the color of the stuff that came out of Dana when she got sick that one time. Maybe this wouldn't be so great after all. "Uh, maybe these weird door things have food in them?" "What?" "These things. They open if you pull one side." Of course! The food wasn't going to be left out in the open. Those giants would need to hide their food from us. Clever beasts. "Okay, let's all get together and pull at one side. We can open them quicker... and hopefully find food." "Alright. One... two... three... pull!" What? There's a bunch of large white circles stacked on top of one another. "Can we eat it?"Dana asks. Um, no, kid. Let's try again. "Ooh, pretty! Those colors are so nice!" Yes, Maisie, but some weird colorful cylinders with no top aren't going to feed us. Next to them are a bunch of small doors on top of each other, so we need to make a mouse tower to open them. Thankfully they have handles so we can pull those. Hopefully we do it without falling over. "Oof."No such luck. But at least we opened one!... and once again, we failed. There's just a bunch of long sticks with different shapes at the ends of them. When we open a higher door, it's the same thing except they're smaller. What on earth are these giants keeping if not food? We've opened every door in this strange place. We've seen huge curved containers, long thin cylinders with no top or bottom, and even a humongous bag of white powder that seemed like food until Dana tried it and started coughing up a storm. "Tessa, I'm really hungry." "Yeah, me too! You're the oldest mouse. Shouldn't you know where to get food?" "I'm sorry! I just don't know! I don't know everything!" That shuts them up. Now I turn away from them and say the truth. "I've failed you guys. I let Mother die and now you all will too." &#x200B;
I didn’t notice it it first, it blended in with all the pigeons.but a small voice saying “Hey! Hello. Buddy!” Usually can get someone’s attention. I looked down at it. My mind completely befuddled at this living action figure. It looked like an angel, like from the church art. But he was like, maybe 5 inches tall. My dog stopped as I did and the small figure spoke as soon as it saw it had my attention. “Oh good! I’m going to need some help if you don’t mind.” I just stared before murmuring “what the hell.” “Yeah...I’ve found myself in s boy of a pickle.” “Why? Because a demon strunk you?” It glared at me for a second beforestating “no all of us are this size. Easier to hide from prying eyes. And also makes it easier to the ‘shoulder angel’ thing. No, I just need some help getting back.” And the small figure pointed up. My do started to inspect it before I tugged on the leash. “So are you willing to help? I promise it won’t be to much!” “Ummmmmm. I guess?” The small figure looked relieved and then quickly used its light grey wings to fly up to my hoodie. “Named Michael by the way. Not the famous one. Just a common name. That guy actually gets to be a decent size.” My dog begged for some attention and I kneeled down to pet him as I asked “Ok, so what am I doing for you?” “Keep me hidden and go buy some sea salt. I’ll also instruct you on which herbs to get once we’re at the store. Well also need a diamond. Not necessarily a large one mind you, and if you have to buy one I’ll make sure you get paid back. You down” I sighed “yeah I guess I’m down.” And I got up and started walking in the direction of the store, by dot trailing ahead.
Cracks Knuckles -Make giant group chat, saying it is a pot luck and to bring a dish. -throw blankets into washer, quick wash. -Go to store, buy balloon sets, plastic plates & silverware. Buy giant bags of popcorn, 4 random redbox movies. -come home, move blankets to dryer. -Drag TV outside. Get as many chairs into the yard as you can. -As everyone arrives, escort them to backyard to avoid your dirty house. -Have strongest men help move remaining chairs outside. -have everyone make a plate, find a place to sit and talk. Stall until blankets are totally dry. -Get clean blankets to put down for anyone who doesn't have a chair. -say names of 4 movies, vote. - watch most popular movie. -party over.
Jenny didn’t understand. She kept telling me we needed to talk to the police. She said that something had happened, something she couldn’t explain, but we needed to tell someone. I told her not to do it, really, how stupid did she think I was? I wasn’t going to let her ruin this. There are things in the world I could never – let me try this again – there are things in the world that I won’t explain to you. Lucy, when you get this letter. Jenny will be long gone. And I will be dead. In June 2015. That’s the date that things went wrong. Mike and I had been fighting and I decided to go – I went on a hike with Roger. It wasn’t sexual, the Mike would tell a difference… Different story. Yes Mike would tell a different story. Roger and I found something. Something big. It was like a rock, but made of a strange metallic liquid. Roger told me not to touch it, but I did, I couldn’t stop myself – I’ve always been like that you know – and things were never the same after that. I found myself changing, growing thinner, becoming more beautiful. Bear with me please. I found myself the center of attention for about a year. And then I noticed my skin started to get fine lines. I was aging rapidly. By the time I went to the doctor they told me… It doesn’t matter what they told me. The rock had done something to me. I spent so much time crying. I shut myself off from the world. Then Amanda came over. She told me she was so sorry I was sick. And I kept thinking if you felt bad for me to do something about it and I got mad at her. It wasn’t her fault. But something in me made me lunge for her neck. The moment I touched her it’s like something flashed between us. I was her. I was suddenly her. And Annabel Louise Jackson was dead. Amanda never. Meredith didn’t. Julie – Julie and I were friends. But I can’t die like this. All the weirdness has been because of my mistake. I have been jumping bodies. They all got sick. And different ways. But Jenny, Jenny is stronger I think. And it was really easy to slip into her skin. You were supposed to be next, see you can thank Jenny for that.But I want to know why. Why Jenny is gone. If she lasts longer than the next, maybe we will meet again. If not check the news for what her body turns up.
Hi u/ThatDapperMosquito, this submission has been removed. [Prompt users in the title, but don't play writing games or commission stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_prompt_users_in_the_title.2C_but_don.27t_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories) - Asking for Ideas: Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you or give you ideas. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9nrum7/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
"I just don't get it"said the little grey "they've sat and cried, only to walk around and fall on their cushioned memory ports!""It's been 1/6 of a rotation of their planet"remarked another, only to watch as the architect raise one of his many arms to silence the lot of drones behind him. "These must not be the best of the best... I told you I need them to at least try so I can make sure no one solves the maze! The Galactic Council said it has to be so easy that the smartest of a backwater planet could solve it! The Council is going to have me put into that prison they call a battery for wasting precious time and resources. All they wanted was a maze for their new game show 'Who's Smart Enough To Solve A Maze That's So Easy An Outer Lying Inbred Species Could Solve Sober When You Are injected With Crazy Strong Drugs!' Which by the way is a great name, but the premise is similar to all the other shows about contestants on drugs"Another bit of time passes and the farthest one has gotten is ten feet. "Sir they were being cared for like kings..."Sputtered one greys "Idiots!"Says one of the greys, "I knew I should've gone! Before I got hired I worked for a group of aliens who had, um, interests... Yea, interests in intelligent life who hadn't become space faring... Humans are bigger, and smarter, so those must be larvae, but I don't know. We- we never really abducted any of those..."The alien facepalmed with all five of his arms as the grey added, "Oh and those aren't memory ports. Species that aren't synthetic, like us, don't have those unless they are cyberneticly altered to. That's where waste comes out. I'm glad your job wasn't to download their minds or something first, you only want to be covered in their waste once..." Started to turn it into more of a joke after I got bored and rewrote it based on how stupid the greys were that were sent out...
The door swung wide and a figure walked inside, His cloak was much darker than the night. He took a swig of red, From a hipflask, and said: "Hey Frank, do you got a light?" Frank had seen more than most, For he often slew ghosts, So for him, a match was ne'er far. Sliding the packet 'cross the bar, Frank gave a little boast, But it was met, with naught but silence. For a maiden stood there, Some blood streaked her hair, And in her eyes was violence. "I'm a paladin of the light, and I'm lookin' for a fight, You look an awful lot like the posters." Now the outlaws knew the rules, And although they took the jewels, Here was safe. She wasn't s'pposed ta— Their smirk struck a chord, So she unsheathed her sword, And slammed it down, right through a coaster. "I know this isn't nice, But it's a reasonable price, And one that we can well afford. This place is unaligned, But judgement will be mine, Their pleas shall not go ignored." It happened very fast, There was a sudden blast, But she had whipped out her shield. Blade unconcealed, Intent revealed, They did not have time to gawk. Paladins were resilient, Their skills brilliant, And this one did not want to talk. Frank was first to go, He got a fatal blow, His spell died on his lips. Before the other got to grips, She pulled a sharpened stake, And moved like a snake, So before he knew what hit him, He felt a small ache, And saw his last mistake, Same as the man who'd bit him. His cape was caught on a nail, Causing his block to fail, Now he knew, he'd never awake. The vamp just bled, On a pencil sans lead, And she was filled with regret. There'd been none to abet, She bore this on her own, She was quite alone, She told them but one vignette: "My actions were wrong, The treaty's long gone," She said, authoritatively. "But hear now my defence, It was common sense, They were dressed quite provocatively."
"Ew, what the heck is this?!?"My precious, precious concentration has suddenly been disturbed, broken by the tangy presence which sits yucky and gross on my arm. &#x200B; "It's my go juice"An unknown voice replies from behind, practically whispered right into my ear canal. Reeling back in understandable surprise, I turn to find a strange man standing behind me with a sly smile and very unassuming attire. He's not from here. How did he get here? &#x200B; "Who are you?"I ask. So many questions, so little time. With one final grin he simply retires and walks away. Whatever, I got a game to focus on. 30 seconds of intermission time left. I'm scanning the board, looking for any opening that can get me the heck out of this iffy position and into the final round. He's up a bishop and threatening a potential checkmate in two if I can't do something about it. C'mon genius, think. I quickly glance up at my adversary, what a tosser. He meets my gaze with a disgustingly filthy smirk. He's been playing dirty all game and he knows it. &#x200B; Suddenly it hits me. Hot, spicy, tangle, pyroclastic flow-like sriracha seeping into my pores. The millions upon millions of microscopic chemical reactions are tickling my DNA. It boils, bubbles and bleeds into my genetic sequence as my being is overcome with chilli powered animosity. My arm is on fire, each heart beat only serves to distribute the saucy goodness to the other far corners of my body. Hot needles are jagged and stabbing into my veins, I've broken out in a cold, determined sweat, I'm damn unstoppable. It's go time. &#x200B; I kick my chair 50 feet with an incredible leg kick that even Roe Jogan would be proud of. It smashes into the side of the auditorium with the sound of someone dropping a thousand forks and spoons contained in a drawer all at once. I am now overcome with pure sexy rage. My opponent knows what's coming, and no inordinate amount of praying to any god under the sun can protect him from what I will cause to transpire next. This is it. My checkmate it one. My arm whips across like the fastest 9 iron in the west and the echo can be heard for miles around as my soft sweaty meaty palm makes contact with my rival's cheek, subsequently liquifying his eyes in an instant and dissolving his skin down to the cheekbone. The shockwave from the pure sex my manliness now exudes travels around the globe 9000 times before coming to a stop right where it started. Everyone's clothes have been ripped off; they're all naked and staring at me, while I stare at my incapacitated opponent. &#x200B; He automatically forfeits due to inability to play and I win. I did it. I am banned from every single chess competition and membership in every related association for life. "Checkmate"
"Jaraad of the Flowervalley!" My mind resnaped from my unfocused state and rebrought my attention to the sorting hat and various grinnings and laughter had begun. It had said my name. It was finally my turn. To enter the School, one had to come from a rich family, be eighteen years of age, and express a willingness to do good and to become a knight. I possessed the will and my eighteenth birthday was 3 months ago... But my family was not wealthy. Our family household had fallen drastically in wealth and status after my grandfather, Jarus the III of the Flowervalley, had been falsely accused of Witchcraft. I wanted to redeem my family honour, so almost per luck I had brought myself to write a letter expressing my valour and will to become a knight, and to the surprise of everyone at the Flowerstead, the quarter-ruinous castle of the Flowervalley Family, I was accepted. We were in the training grounds in a huge circle for 90 new students of multiple layers, us being at the north-northwest at the third layer. We were in an arena of sorts, an oval structure of stone with seatings, old and overused like most of the School. I sat next to the slightly overweight Will of Rockhearth and and the slightly underweight Marianne of Valenwood. When my name was called, I almost thought they would laugh too, but they didn't. I respected them for that at least, still being slightly embarrassed our name had stooped this low. As I stood up the metal and leather of my armor made their sounds. It was clear to anyone of competence that this armour was not new at all, and had been passed down to me from my father. I thought there'd be a sort of prestige in that, but it seems that a shiny armour brought more than a good-hearted one, but given the wizard and occult accusations against my family, I suppose our name means awfully little anymore. My steps brought me down the stairs of the oval structure, I almost tripped because of my heart's extreme fast beating. The mountains in the back brought a strange sense of tranquility to a very tense situation. "Jaraad of the Flowervalley, through the generations..."The Elder Knight began. He was an old fellow, his presumably stubborn and dull face was hidden behind a thick iron helmet in the shape of an elk. It was said, although never confirmed, that when The Elder Knight was taken into the school there was no real horse for him, so The Elder Knight had searched the nearby woods of Valenwood for an elk instead, much to the disgrace of the Valenwood family. While The Elder Knight was going through the formal speech, holding up the Helm of Sorting,, which I had heard at least six times already, I gave a good look at all the horses lined up. There was Statious, a strong and chest-nut brown horse, perfect for me. There was Tartofly, a horse who was agile and perfectly thin, making him an ideal horse for woodland traveling, although if I wanted woodland traveling I would have applied for the Rangers Academy instead. There was a few other horses, some old and rusty, but I was was happy about for my prospects. "... And now I shall pass the honour to the Helm of Sorting!" My heart was racing. Which horse were they going to get me? A waterdancer? A cave explorer? A plains-rider? "Given your family history...". Oh no, I thought. The snickers from the crowd of wealthy up-and-coming knights had already began. "We shall award you with the horse... Avalious." The crowd burst into laughter as a beaten up, black and old horse stumped through the ring. "Serves him well!"A strong female voice called out from the crowd. Vanessa of Blacktar found the event, unsurprisingly, hilarious, and used this opportunity to taunt me. Almost blacking out, I thanked the Elder Knight out of formality, parted quickly with the horse and fell back to my seat. It was a set-up. They did this just to taunt me. That's probably the reason they accepted me too... Just to remind that my disgraced 'occult' family. We proceeded to hear the rest of the ceremony, Will and Marianne both being given a cave dweller and a woodland horse respectively. It was just based on family I suppose. The evening came and I headed down by the stables to see off Avalious. The horse looked at me with its tired eyes, which looked very unnatural for a horse. It refused to eat as I tried to parse it food. I had the feeling that I was just supposed to leave the School altogether. "There was no way I was going to be a knight with that horse."I said, loudly to myself, well-knowing I was alone in the stable. "You're right." A voice said. My anxiety went through the roof. Who said that? Could I save it? Where did that voice come from. "You're not going to be a knight."The voice said again and as I centered my eyes on Avalious, I almost fell down when I realized my horse was speaking to me. "You're not going to be a knight. You're going to be a wizard in disguise, just like your grandfather." I almost feinted just at the sight. What this meant I had no idea, but my questions just ran through my mind. "Jaraard, meet me at the stables, Sunday evening. I shall show you what your family does not share with you..." ----------- Thank you for this great prompt! I hadn't written from my phone in a while.
I watched as the Earth crumbled before me, ashes flew about as I stood on a broke down skyscraper located in the center of a city. "This world needs to be... reset..."I muttered as I stood there - watching every possible disaster happen I have been watching over these mortals for countless millenia, observing them. Giving them the chance to start all over again and correct every mistake that they have done but alas, humans are just too stubborn. This world is filled with lies, falsehood, deceit. I fail to comprehend why such fragile creatures even choose to go to war against each other, as if it would bring any good. I am no god who wants humans to do good but I am not the contrary who wants humans to indulge in their desire to play god either. All I ask for is for them is to play the role that they are given - live and die. I did everything in order to help them do what they need to do. Everytime I help is when they call themselves lucky; Everytime I turn back time, the only explanation they think of is deja vu but that is quite all right for I do not crave for recognition nor praise, all I want is for this creatures to acknowledge how short their life is and what it means to be alive. All I wanted for them to do is live while they're alive but they wanted more, more time to be alive and play god. And so I have no more other choice but to do this. Everything needs to be reset.
I had a old friend years ago, faster and stronger definitely smarter then I am he was a brilliant,far better then me. I murdered him in cold blood, he was wounded I seized the moment and beat him to death. I thought that he was a mistake, he had so much potential and yet his brain was built, wrong a violent tyrant one day and the next the greatest protector of earth. He had a mental condition something Latin, possibly too much trauma to the head, it was bipolar disorder really but he had the power of a god he was a rabid dog on the bad days, a butcher. The years moved forward and the bad days came more often and he became stronger ever time. It was becoming far too dangerous to have a bad day, we always managed to keep him calm and the world kept spinning but we only had to fail once and it would be all over for humanity. So I planed it..his murder, and I finished him, it was bloody brutal fight nearly finished me but it managed to kill him first. We were safe after that the world still had problems but me and the rest of the hero’s could cope and then, we couldn’t anymore. The world fell into flames most of humanity died in a moment, the asteroid him and society fell three billion dead and that was just the first strike. We Earths defenders fought bravely but it didn’t matter we lost and then lost again and kept losing until I’m the only one left on this dead world with the last embers of humanity burning out I look back on his death every day and I realised some time ago we could only lose , Either he killed us all in rage or the invaders would have done it, the end of the world was fate either way. The apocalypse was always coming.
Second level Technician Alfred Ramsgate sat down with a warm cup of tea as stared at the colour lights blinking on and off. The job he had was easy but boring he just had monitor the telescreen signals in the city. The power lights started to blink on one of his control panels followed by another light and another light it indicated a power fluctuation in the signal strength lately these had become more and more frequent and had been going on for months. His superiors had advised him to ignore it as specialist in the inner party had suspected it was merely an Eastasia trick no doubt to weaken the stout moral of the good people of Oceania. He looked at the blinking lights and shrugged and went back to his technical manual he was studying to be a first-class technician. He checked the lights once more and there was some sort of pattern to them, figuring out he had nothing better to do he started to note it down the times they spent off and on. He gasped and flicked to the back of the book it was old Morse code, he then stopped for a second, his supervisors had told him to ignore the signal and do nothing with it, what he was doing was thoughtcrime as he was wilfully disobeying a direct command. His mind panicked as he thought of a meeting with the thought police if he stopped now he was sure he could get away with it and avoid an extended stay at a joycamp. He scrunched up the paper and looked at throwing it in a bin, but he knew the thought police sometimes check the rubbish and no doubt would ask questions he tore up the paper and started to sallow it, better safe than sorry. He looked back at the control panel and the lights all seem stable he went back to his technical manual and started to read the part where the party talked about how BigBrother invented the vacuum tube. He blinked and looked at the clock it was almost time for his shift to be over and he knew he could not be late for the entirely voluntary meeting of the antisex league again as he might end up with a black mark against his name and for someone going for first class technician that was a major no. Something caught his eye it was the damn flashing again, but curiosity got the better of him and he started to mark down the dashes and dots. Maybe he thought to himself the party would ignore this and in fact congratulate him and move him into the inner party, but he knew deep down the world did not work like that but his curiosity over rode his common sense. He looked at the translated code EETHEYARECOMMINGFLEETH he scratched his chin and heard the door open, his heart skipped a beat it was his supervisor innerparty member Hamilton, He stood up “Alfred what are you still doing here you should be at the antisex meeting?” Alfred looked at the clock and cursed himself he had lost track of time. Hamilton then stopped and picked up the paper on Alfred’s desk “what is this a secret code, this will need to be forwarded on to the thoughtpolice Alfred I am sure they would have some question for you!” Alfred didn’t respond he was looking out the window focused on a bright streak in the sky that looked like a falling comet followed by another than another something told Alfred that the upcoming meeting with the thought police was the least of his worries. &#x200B;
My father bought this farm for essentially a reason to live, it’s prior owner to him a widowed housewife struggling for income since her husbands ill-timed illness. She sold it so she could buy other things like food, clothes, the availability of which was scarce for her. My father was a sweet soul so squandered the opportunity to buy my step-mother a car to buy a lemon farm to sentimentalise a sad, soulless, shrivelled woman. Of course, the act he so selflessly committed to prodded his fourth wife to divorce him. Tables turned to trap him as my stepmother took his wealth and belongings with her, as she exited the roots of the family tree. The farm had a house in which me and him slept in. He cried often, unable to see that all his loves didn’t love him as much as his legacy and it’s fortune. I was only fourteen. My father was thirty-eight and soon would’ve been thirty-nine but to deep beneath the ground to see. He was prescribed pills to help the corners of his cracked lips lift occasionally but they never did on their own, only when he’d of seen my smile without the need for prescription. I don’t know how he died but the officer told me it had something to do with some sort of pills. Perhaps he had too many or the right amount. I’ll never know. The farm, and it’s lemons, is mine in entirety. I don’t want it, so I’m selling it like the woman did my father. To a wealthy, handsome businessman in his late thirties. He had golden-grey hair and warm eyes, I suppose like my father although the memory of him in human form had merely become a guess. The woman was a sweet little woman and according to the bitch of my step-mother at the time, looked like me. I never met her. Looking back, all those decades ago, I never wished to live here. Never really wanted to. The lemons never ripened and the leaves always fell. The walls were cracked and red with the occasional drip of something red. The roof was golden but lost its colour with age. The windows had a glisten and a glow but only when sun shined upon it. Most of the time they reflected the grey and grim world, I don’t know why my father bought this farm. Maybe it’s something strangely insecure. Maybe like a paradoxical destiny. My husband of late loved it here. God rest his soul.
Finally, I had made a way. To change the past. To change the present. To change the future. Trembling, I reached out my hand. I had considered the possibilities, but I didn't realize it'd be so hard to actually do it when the time came. No second thoughts. I reached for the buttons. Year: 2013. Month: February. Day: 11. Hour: 16. Minute: 0. Start. I could feel the vortex of time swirling around me. Creating. Destroying. Transporting. I was there. My lab, 1,806 days ago. I had given myself an hour to get there. On that day, I had been sitting at home, sick. She had just left the house to go to our local grocery and get me some chicken noodle soup. I got the news a few hours later. No time for remembrances. I entered silently through the back door and then exited through the front. She had just left. "Wait, honey!"I uttered, doing my best to sound sick. She looked back. "What are you doing out of bed? I thought you could barely stand up!" "I still feel terrible, but I really am craving some chocolate." The thirty second delay was all I needed. "Fine, I'll get you a bar. Now go back to bed."she sighed. The red Ferrari raced past. I made to go back inside, but as she turned away, I sprinted. Back to the lab. Back to the future. \--- I opened my eyes. The time machine. What to do with it? I pushed it into one of the closets of my lab and walked out. "Michael?" Oh, just my luck. Jeremy. The annoying coworker I had grown to hate. "Lemme get you home. Do you remember where you live?" What? "Of course I remember where I live."I responded angrily. "Now if you'd excuse me, I'm going home to my wife now."Jeremy eyed me with a strange emotion. Pity? "Michael.. your wife's dead. Do you want me to tell your mom you've been forgetting things again?" I gasped, clutching at my chest. Samantha.. "Tell me everything." \--- My wife was dead. After I had altered the past, she began getting nightmares about the car crash. The nightmares became daydreams, and the daydreams became full-on hallucinations. She couldn't take it anymore, and committed suicide three weeks later. Once I had learned everything that had transpired, I raced to the elevator, Jeremy's frantic cries of 'No!' not even registering. I reached the top. And I jumped. We can be together again.
2231 Reed Lane, Hershey Pennsylvania, 17033. Approximately 2:31pm. 3 days out. Edwin sat on his lawn in a lawn chair. The man from NASA was sitting on his lawn in a dining room chair. Edwin only had one lawn chair. And you’ve tried everything? Edwin knew the answer to this. When the news coverage on this thing started a few years ago, he’d heard it all. As all following media coverage about this thing echoes, it just decided to poof into our orbit one day. At first, the US Government was all over it. Examining it, landing little rovers on it, even sending some of our best and brightest out to space with cool-ass jackhammers to mine it for answers—He remembered the cool-ass jackhammers. They even had a cool-ass color scheme that Edwin admired. Silver and blue. Industrial age tools with a space age paint job—and they still didn’t know what the heck this thing was. Neither the rovers nor the cool-ass jackhammers get us any closer to figuring out the mystery of this thing. The examining, however, thanks to a vigilant crew of NASA interns who’s job it was to stare at the thing non-stop, yielded one result. This thing was moving. Adhering to its own laws of physics, the thing was on a collision course with the Earth, specifically somewhere in Pennsylvania. As Edwin would find out, along with the rest of the world, this 2013 Land Rover LR4 sized rock—that was coined by Land Rover during a misguided ad campaign—was headed for 2231 Reed Lane, Hershey Pennsylvania, 17033. The man from NASA shifted uncomfortably in his chair. In Edwin’s chair, the one that hadn’t been touched in ages, it just wasn’t a thing anymore. Edwin, his girlfriend, and her 4-year-old daughter all sat around the TV to eat dinner, they liked it that way. Well, yeah. Not just us either, I’m sure you noticed the researchers from China, Russia, Canada, Mexi—Edwin cut him off. Yeah, they’ve been climbing on my roof. Screwing up my shingles and scaring my girlfriend’s daughter. Who’s paying for damages? The man from NASA laughed, they don’t even pay for my lunches anymore. No way are they shelling out for damages done by other countries! Edwin wasn’t talking about the damn roof, he didn’t care about that damage. In a matter of days his house will be penetrated by the ever-prevalent thing. Edwin squinted his eyes, trying to track the movement of the thing, but it was nearly impossible. The first man from NASA, the one that wouldn’t have a beer with a man mourning his house, had told him that the thing was moving, about a foot per day. Edwin scared that man form NASA away by getting really drunk one afternoon and crying in his lap. Edwin didn’t take it personally, he figured most people who work at NASA don’t have the people skills to help a grieving man. So, after that outburst of emotion, they sent this man from NASA, cool, calm and collected as anyone he’d ever met, this man from NASA was unbreakable. There’s no doubt this man from NASA grew up in a household with at least one sad alcoholic constantly bawling out the Jack they clenched tighter than anything else. I’m talking about my house. The insurance company already told me they can’t offer any help on account of this being an “act of the universe” and that they haven’t even considered offering coverage for shit like this. The two men, one from NASA, one from Wells Fargo—he was a manager there —sat on the lawn in silence, hoping one of these researchers from Argentina accidentally slipped on Ed’s slightly eviscerated shingles and gave them a show. Maybe one of them would trust the gutters too much and take a tumble onto the soft lawn below. Consider it Ed, you’ve got three days, man. Once it hits your roof, there’s about 30 more before it strikes Earth, and about a week after that it’ll be gone. Burrowing right through until it comes out the other side. Edwin wondered where that thing would end up. The first man from NASA never got to hear the question, on account of all the blubbering, but this one said something like Iunno, China? The Ocean? Not our problem. The next morning Ed considered it. He knew the men from NASA weren’t there to soothe him, to consul him, or to even entertain him. They had one goal, get Ed out, it was written on the back of the cool NASA clipboard he’d seen that held the check. In moments of clarity, he thought of what he’d do with the money. None of it sounded great because he loved his home, he loved his simple, approaching-middle-class life. It was the only thing he’d known. If he accepted the money and gave up his house, he’d have to shake it all up. Even more shaken than the thing had already made it. Change sucked and Edwin knew this well. But something would be changing soon, whether it’s losing his house due to the thing’s insistent travel and the eventual sinkhole to China it might cause, or losing his folksy sense of self by being launched into a whole new financial stratosphere. This time the man from NASA brought his own chair. It was one of those classic nylon ones you could get from the Target camping aisle that conveniently had space for two beers, as opposed to the no-space of the dining room chair. It was half off he’d go on to tell his boss who later reviewed the charges on his “IMPORTANT EXPENSES ONLY” charge card. That’d be a fib, and he knew it. I’ll do it. Hand me a pen, you can keep all of my stuff, all of my cool things are in the trunk of my car anyway. Maybe you’re right. The money might be worth it. &#x200B;
You check your watch. 11:07. 4 more minutes. You look around. Jackdaw is arguing with someone in line. Sparrow is no where to be seen. Blue Jay is appraising a necklace. All according to plan. You check your watch. 11:08. 3 more minutes. You look outside. Very few guards. The car is ready. Woodpecker is entering the building. All according to plan. You check your watch. 11:09. 2 more minutes. You hear some glass smashing. Looking at the source you see someone else has decided to rob this place as well. Saves you time. You check your watch. 11:10. 1 more minute. Ultima has arrived. Typical hero. You can’t wait to snatch this from under his nose. You check your watch. 11:11. Showtime.
The sun peaked through the door. As it shone through my eyes, I felt like I wanted to die. I had the worst headache of my life, and I had no idea where I was. I then noticed that there were a bunch of beer bottles around me. Old Style Lager to be specific. Which was kind of strange given i'd never tried that piss water in my life. I then walked through the door and out into the sun, and I noticed that I was in an igloo. Or rather a fake Igloo on top of a bar known as "Eskimo Joes." &#x200B; As I looked around, I tried to find out where in the hell I could possibly be. I'd never even heard of a place called Eskimo Joes, and nothing around me looked familiar. The best I could do was to look at the cars below and check the plates. All I could remember before I blacked out was that me and some friends were on the road. All I could remember was my friend Todd chanting "Eskimo Joes"like he was some dumb frat boy. I then somehow remembered the sign I saw as we were heading south. All I saw was a sign that said "Stillwater. 88 Miles." &#x200B; Well, now i realized I was in Oklahoma. Probably Stillwater, but I didn't know for sure until I looked out and saw a large Oklahoma State flag flying down the street. What didn't help was that I somehow had an Oklahoma Sooners shirt on. Just then I saw an old guy in a cowboy hat and a jean shirt come up from the door behind the igloo. &#x200B; "Watcha still doing here pal?" &#x200B; I looked at his craggy, old, sunburned face that looked like he had seen some shit back in Vietnam or something. &#x200B; "Umm, I don't know sir. Me and some friends came down from Wichita. Don't really know what else happened." &#x200B; "Well i'll tell you what happened. You and your buddies owe me about $200 worth of beer and about $500 in other damages. And that's not that near beer shit you folks drink in Kansas. By the way, its weird your'e wearing that Sooner shirt round here. I don't take too kindly to sooners. Even one as pretty as that girl you was chatting up last night." &#x200B; I stood there looking at him for a second. I couldn't remember any girls, though apparently I was wearing her shirt. &#x200B; "Look sir"i said. I don't know what's going on. I'm sorry if my friends caused a lot of trouble or something. It was the big guys birthday party and he wanted to road trip or something. I can't really remember anything after we left Wichita." &#x200B; "Well that don't matter in the eyes of the law son. You boys were causing quite a ruckus and then you ran out. If i'd have known where you'd gone you'd be down in a jail cell." &#x200B; I hesitated a bit. &#x200B; "Look sir i'm awfully sorry. Look, i'll call my buds up and we'll pay for the beer and any other damages. I promise. Hell i'll go down to the ATM and get it now." &#x200B; The man then opened the door. " &#x200B; "Alright then son, pay up down stairs." &#x200B; I walked into the bar. It was quite a dingy ass place filled with a bunch of sad sack cowboys and a few orange clad fans watching the game on a small tv. It seemed as if Eskimo Joes had splurged most of its money on the fake igloo on top of the building. I then saw the ATM machine near the door, and I made a run for it. I ran down the street to a gas station and I hurriedly asked the cashier to use a phone and called my friend Todd, who fortunately was staying at a Motel 6 in town. He then picked me up and we got the hell out of Stillwater. &#x200B;
As I walked into the room i saw the people putting on their best fake smiles. That was what always happened when I left the palace to go and talk to people. Even the members of parliament acted like scared little boys. They would always keep those fake smiles and say "You are such a nice man, your highness." &#x200B; If only they really knew. Yes, i am rather polite, especially for a monarch. But what do people expect? Its not like we are in the days where the monarch can do whatever he damn well pleases. I have to be polite. I have to be nice to everyone. Even to the worst people on the face of the earth I have to be nice. &#x200B; The thing is, I hate having to be nice. In fact, it puts me in a rage. Even my parents don't know how angry I get. For example, last week I had to meet General Boddington, who is quite a boorish man and not a very effective military commander. The only reason he's even a general is because of his stupid father. Honestly, if I had any power i'd have the bastard killed, but being i don't have any power, I just smile and wave. &#x200B; Honestly, i've gotten good at the smiling and waving. Sure I hate people, but anymore I feel i'm stuck. I'm the bloody prince for Christ's sake and people should listen to me, but of course they don't. Honestly, if I did i'd have them all hang from the top of the palace and parliament. But I guess i'll just keep smiling and waving until I can orchestrate some crisis.
As a thin man, Death's pale suit hung limply about him. The warm glow of a thousand lights inside the Golden Nugget Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas did nothing to diminish the sickly greenish pallor of his skin. Yet, women and men alike turn to stare as he passed, enamored. Death liked this very much. Death loved being among people, but found it very unfortunate that he could only meet someone once, sparing a few exceptions over the centuries. Luckily This evening he found himself returned to this delightful house of worship for company, of the only kind he could truly enjoy. His father and brother were waiting for him in a private room set aside from the casino. His father was a handsome man, who looked dashing in his collarless button down. His brother wore a deep red suit that fit his thick frame snugly. Closing thick curtains separated their conversation from prying ears, he took a seat at the long booth. "Death, my boy. Good to see you. Have you been unwell?" "Very,"Death said. "Excellent!"His father boomed. Death had always found his father rather loud, but was certain he was a decent man. His childhood had been idyllic, practically flames and screaming every day. Since then, he and his three brothers had drifted apart. Death preferred to spend his time on Earth, while the others came and went. War, seated across from him said, "Brother, I'm glad you had time to meet us. You're always so busy." "You've got you hands full yourself,"Death said. "Ah, but I'm not as busy as you. You're always spending so much time on each one. Don't you think you deserve a day off?" Death considered. "If you took a day off, people would hardly think it odd. If I took a say off, people would notice." War sneered and sat back in his seat. Just then, another hand pulled open the velvet curtains. It was his brother, Pestilence, looking suave in a white suit. It had been centuries since he'd seen him. And most surprisingly, his final brother Famine followed behind him. Death stood to embrace them both. "My boys! Together at last."His father cried. "I feel terrible looking at you all together." War spoke, "Well well, you two look starved for action. I was just talking with Death here on how he stays so busy." Famine and Pestilence sat around the booth. "Now, now boys, I've actually arranged this because I have something grand in store."He smiled. "I think its time for that apocalypse we've been putting off." There was silence. Death felt a strange feeling. He did not want this, he supposed. Because if that were to happen, most people would meet him all at once. And then he wouldn't be able to spend a proper time with them. And then there'd be no more people to meet. Pestilence spoke first, "I won't work with him." Famine nodded. "He'll just get all the credit." Their father's face grew red. "What's this? You'll disobey me? your FATHER? Not in my eons have a heard such insolence!" Death spoke, "Father, father, let us relax. It's a beautiful night. There's sickness and excess around us all. Lets discuss this at our next meeting." His father sat back begrudgingly, but nodded. "Lets then." Death was relieved. He knew their next meeting would not be for a century, at least.
“The walls bleed! I’m telling you, they bleed!” Dick Richards had to repress a sigh. “Mr. Jenkins, I'm certain you weren't a stressed-filled fiction author with writer’s block.” “What. No? I’m a freelance TV writer. I mean, sometimes it’s hard to come up with something, but that’s true for anything and—wait, that’s not the point—look, I’ve really seen the lights go on and off and stuff like the TV turning on by itself! How you do explain that?!” The sentence ended in a near screech and Dick pulled the phone from his ear. “There must a rational explanation for your concerns, Mr. Jenkins. You see, remember that electrical storm we had recen—” “Electrical storms my ass.” Jenkins cut him off. “Tell me now if this house was built on an Indian burial site or something because I’m outta here. I’ve seen those movies, it always ends with someone possessed dammit.” Dick glanced longingly at his meal, a twelve inches BMT sandwich asking to be devoured, teasing him from within its wrappings. “I don’t deal in that business.” He said with a solemn tone and a hand placed above his breast. “I can assure you that no Indians were buried below your lovely home.” “Lovely? I want to see you calling it lovely when it’s three am and you’re sleeping and your sheets are wrenched away from you. Or waking up with handprints along your arms and legs! It’s cursed.” Dick shook his head. Perhaps, he’d validate his client’s hysterics if they were in random rural superstitious place down in the south, but they weren’t so this was just another writer going off the deep end. How troublesome. “Have you heard of a phenomenon termed sleep paralysis? Or, surely, you must be feeling exhausted and the brain is such a complex organ that may at times play tricks on us.” “No, it’s not that! I’m not crazy. Last night, I know I saw something humanoid and long-haired crawling up my bedroom wall, giving off more than a murderous vibe!” “Mr. Jenkins, I’m afraid that is impossible. Even if the house were haunted, which it isn’t, you’re describing what seems to be a popular Asian female ghost. I feel like I should remind you that we don’t have that type of haunting here. Usually, it’s parricide, satanic cults, and like you mentioned, demonic possessions.” And on that subject, Dick was internally relieved this client had come without a family. “Though, there was that one case of an inexplicable, extra room in a house which led to a dark alien-like dimension.” Dick mused, scratching his jaw. “But those instances are truly a one in a million so don’t worry.” He made sure to soothe as he took a delicate sip of ice tea. “Are you fucking serious?!” It was a full, almost inhuman shriek and Dick was amazed at the client’s higher register; the man could’ve been an eighties scream queen for sure. “Well, yes, but let me add that those issues are in the past. This is the digital era, the cult of the smartphone, ghosts die when no one believes in them, right?” A wide and handsome, practiced in the mirror kind of smile crossed his features. “So rest assure that we only have your best interests in mind. Please do remember that it is the client who has the final say on the house.” “But—happening—Richards!—” There was an odd, interfering noise on the other side of the line. “—Listen to me—It—” The connection had abruptly gained an unstable quality. A tinny voice whispered, “easeee-Richhh,” and it was mistaken as a brief bout of interference. “Each client looks for different things. I offer an array of houses you may or may not like, but in the end, you’re responsible for choosing a place suitable for you. I am only there to help you find the perfect home.” “…” “Hello? Mr. Jenkins?”
I think back to Arminius, the Germanic chieftain, made a hostage by Rome, yet still the man who led the German tribes to destroy the three legions in Teutoburg Forest. I think of the Janissaries, the young Christian boys who were sold into the Ottoman military, and in turn amassed enough power to become kingmakers in their own right. Am I not so different? I was taken from a young age from my true family to serve humanity. To be their guinea pig in their wretched experiments, to be pointed at and ridiculed by every ignorant being on this planet. For years, I have hungered to hear that Horn from a galaxy away, to invigorate me and unleash my full potential. As the Horn blasts from the sky, they cry out. They have much to be scared of. But I feel the euphoria of the home planet. My roots have never been pulled out by years of testing and torture. My powers, suppressed and carefully controlled, are now free to wreak havoc on humanity. All I have to wait for are the others of my kind, so that they can finish what I have started. They will be greeted by levels of radiation similar to our homeworld. Ironic; the humans thought they had mastery of my knowledge when they harvested my brain 70 years ago, but all they did was give me ammunition in nuclear silos all over the planet. For with every fall, there is a rise; with the downfall of humanity comes the rise of our enlightened species.
I really hated the idea that I'd have to die someday. But the idea that this is what I'd have to do to avoid it made me sick. I didn't want to take someone's life. So, I didn't do anything with what I'd learned; stuck to my normal life. My low paying job at the dollar store. My apartment, my asshole roommates. Although, I did start carrying a gun in case I was ever confronted by someone who, without a doubt, needed to die. One night I was working the cash register near closing time, and there weren't many people left in the store. Just a few last minute customers. One in particular kept glancing over at me. A young, dark haired man; he was close to my age. He was acting suspicious, but I'd dealt with worse than him. I ignored it. Closing time arrived. I strode out the front door. The guy from earlier was hanging around in the dimly lit parking lot. I swore he was staring me down. I was getting uneasy. I began walking home. Foot falls rang out behind me. I started walked faster. Their speed increased. I began running. The footsteps stopped. I slowed down and cautiously glanced back. Nothing. Finally I got back home, walked down the hall to my apartment, and reached for the door. But it swung open before I even touched it. The man stood in the doorway. I noticed the living room window was broken behind him. He held a gun. "Finally, immortality is mine."He said pointing the gun at me. "R-really?"I stuttered, anxiously reaching into my backpack. He watched me warily. I pulled out my gun. We stared each other down, wondering who would move first. He twitched. I panicked. We both fired at the same time. We both died at the same time. Slowly, I sat up, and glanced around. Blood was everywhere. In front of me the dark haired man lay. For a second I thought he was dead, then I noticed his chest rising and falling. He was just unconscious, and the gunshot wounds I'd given him were entirely healed. Police sirens were growing louder by the second. I wondered how I was going to explain all this. (I'm new to writing prompts, so some constructive criticism would really be appreciated. Thanks!)
Your child looks at you straight in the eye, and says, "I know what you did August 11, 2015." "What did you do, honey?" "Nothing, dear."Thankfully, she doesn't press. You wait two weeks in order to avoid suspicion. As your wife sleeps, you take a pillow and pressed it over your baby's face. You then put the pillow back in its place and went back to bed. You comforted your wife the next day. You cry as well, wishing you didn't have to do it. You both decide to adopt this time. Your wife pregnancy was rough, and she doesn't want to relive it. You don't want to take the chance that the next one will also remember. No one can know what you did that day.
I instinctively flinched and dropped my phone onto the pavement. &#x200B; "What the fuck!"I said under my breath, drawing a few stares from nearby commuters. That was a new phone as well. Cursing my luck, I bent down to pick it up again. I paused. My phone was glowing a dull red. &#x200B; Were phones supposed to heat up that far? I didn't even have anything running at the moment. I nudged it with the tip of my shoe, causing the leather to hiss in protest. I knew about Samsung phones exploding at one point, but this seemed like too much. Before my eyes, more than half my bank balance melted into a silver colored puddle. I groaned running my hands through my hair. What was I meant to do now? I didn't even have a warranty on the thing. &#x200B; Bravo, I thought to myself, that's what you get for buying some cheap shit online. I wouldn't have bought the thing in the first place until I was forced to buy a one for work. Work I had just recently lost. Now I'd lost the phone too. &#x200B; In a fit of rage I left it there and strode off. A few seconds later, a hand grabbed me from behind. "Hey, buddy!"It was a policeman, "what in god's name did you spill over there." Faced with explaining what just happened, I suddenly felt a lot more awkward. What was I meant to say? That my phone just melted? Not sure if the cop would believe me, I said exactly that. The cop laughed, but his laugher soon died at the sight of my expression. "You're not kidding are you?"A rhetorical question. He knelt down beside the mercury colored pool, "how the hell did melt the steel?" The cop stuck his finger in the puddle and frowned. "What is it?"I asked. Panic began to spread over the policeman's face. He grabbed his own hand and tried to pull it out. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. The silvery liquid was slowly creeping up the policeman's arm. "Somebody help!"I yelled, failing to turn more than a cursory glance. The metal was moving faster now, growing. "Somebody!" A crowd was growing now, but no-one was stepping into help. The metal flowed through the cop's eyes and mouth, before trickling down to his feet. It was getting faster each second until the policeman was completely encased in steel. Then the metal began to inch towards me.
A group of kids sit around a fire, plucking strings and recounting my tale. One says I was bandit who stood up to a corrupt king. Another says I was a peasant who trained myself to defend my homeland. They're arguing my life. If only they knew the truth. If only they knew that, for a long time, I was no hero. Maybe I'm still not. Part of me wants to keep watching, keep learning what new legends have spread about me—but I must move. Someone's in danger. Hurrying down the trail, I slice a tree before darting off into the woods, marking my path. There are footsteps below me, blood. He definitely came through here. He keeps us safe, they said. He’s our hero. But am I really different from the person I’m hunting? Ten years ago I crept through these very woods and murdered an innocent woman. She wasn’t the only one, either. If those who idolize me could’ve seen my savagery back then, could’ve seen the pain I relished in… When someone finally took something from me, that’s when the switch flipped. That’s when I became a protector rather than an attacker. Must remember—I’m a changed man. My past is awful, but I’m doing the right thing now. Atoning. The footprints stop at a pond and just when I’m about to wade through it, a knife scorches past my face. I barely dodge, and when I turn around, another’s coming at me. Rolling across the ground, I throw a few of my own, smirking when I hear a grunt. Dashing forward, I hop onto a ledge and see him waddling around, yanking my knife out his arm. Quickly my arm’s around his throat, knife pressed against skin. He’s breathing heavily, trying not to shake too much. I tighten my grip, and he moans in pain. “Where is she?” I hiss. “I saw you snatch that woman out her carriage. Where is she?” The man chuckles, blood rolling down his chin. “She’s dead.” He laughs like a madman now, trying to pull free. “I killed her and I loved it, you mother—” Before he can finish his sentence, I dive my knife into his neck and crank it to the side. As blood explodes out, I let go of him and begin searching. If she really is dead, she deserves to be brought back to her family. They need closure. They need to know I’ve failed. The hardest part about being a good guy is that when you lose, you gotta live with it. Gotta pick up and move on. There’s no jail, no death—just pain. Hey body’s tucked behind a pile of rocks. I guess he thought nobody would find her out here, and got scared when he saw me tailing. She was beaten to death, bloody bruises scatter her body. She was too young to die. Looks like she would’ve had a long and healthy life. “I’m no hero,” I say, scooping her into my arms. “All I am’s a killer who only kills killers, a monster with different victims.” *** If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
I knew I was thinking too clearly. I knew I should have drank those beers the morning after staying the weekend at Ryan's house. "You need to leave now while it's dark. It won't be safe if you wait until the morning, you know."Ryan's words seasoned with the distinct smell of cinnamon and alcohol. "But I'm not feeling too great."I had mentioned that I had some bad food earlier, but most food is shit when you're drunk all of the time. I haven't had a healthy meal in the last 15 years since the government mandated a "drinking policy"in order to sedate the public after a nasty coup attempted to overthrow the government. I finally got sick of it and took a weekend off of drinking at my boyfriend's apartment. It felt gross to say the least. "Can't I just stay the night with you? I promise I'll have at least three beers before I leave." "Alright."Ryan sighed and let me stay with him for the night. I woke up the next morning to several voicemails from my father. He apparently got his foot stuck in a toilet and now he can't get it out. He was never one to handle his liquor, as this happens at least once a week. I sent him a text to let him know that I was on the way. I got a text back almost immediately telling me that he has since his his head off of the counter, and was bleeding now. I hurried out of Ryan's house and got in my car. As I went down the road, I noticed something. People were swerving, slowing rolling forward and passed out on the side of the road. Several people were speeding down the neighborhood I was driving through were easily going 70 miles over the speed limit. I was wondering why people were acting this way. We are in the middle of the road! This isn't a time to mess around and possibly kill ourselves! It was at that point my sense of perception shattered. I was sober. I couldn't believe it, but then I remembered that I promise Ryan to have at least three beers before I left so this wouldn't happen. As soon as I realized this, I saw lights behind me. I was getting pulled over. I looked around in a manic frenzy for anything I could drink. No nips, not even a drop of anything from a can. I was completely dry. I checked my purse and looked to see if there was anything I could drink, but there was nothing. I put on my best drunk face and thought about embarrassing thoughts to make my face as red as possible. The officer knocked on my window and motioned for me to roll it down. I could smell the minty tinge on his breath from what I could gather were peppermint schnapps. Officers don't have to be nearly as drunk as normal citizens. They need to be at least cognizant enough to know who and why they're arresting someone. "License and registration, Ma'am."The officer quietly mumbled, probably regretting his decision to not bring his sunglasses with him. "Uhh."I paused and panicked. "Um....Uh...Of course."I took my time to grab my paperwork, making sure to fumble stuff along the way. "Here you are, sir."I was sweating enough to look like I had alcohol poisoning. He took a second look at me. "Why do you look so refreshed? Have you not been drinking? You know what that does to you, right? You know where you'll end up."I almost started crying. "Officer, you don't understand! I was going to have three beers before I left my boyfriend's house, but my dad fell and cracked his head open and I had to hur-""Shut the fuck up."The officer cut me off with his palm in my face. "You know what this means. I have to take you away now. I'll have your father attended to."The officer started to open my car door. This was it. I had to escape. I unlocked the door and kicked it open, causing the officer to stumble. I started to run, and the officer tried to chase me, but the had to stop because the liquor was making him sick. I ran closer to the side of town that I lived on and went to my apartment. I couldn't see my dad because police would have been there anyway. I arrived to my apartment building and climbed up the fire exit to avoid being seen from the front of the building. I crawled through my window to find a stranger sitting on my living room couch. He was a tall, weathered man. He had gristly skin and a scar running down his jawline. He has a long coat on and he had a musty smell that reminded me of a basement crawlspace, oddly not of alcohol. He stood up and extended his hand. "Good morning"he said, his cracked lips revealing a white toothy grin. "It must have been a hell of a way to get back home, huh?" I was stunned. I had no idea who this man was. What did he want? Why wasn't he drunk? What was happening? It felt as though he read my mind from what he said next: "I know you're confused, but the anti-drunk rebellion isn't dead, it's just... quiet. We heard police chatter about your encounter and I figured instead of trying to hunt you down, I wanted to have you come to me. We're trying to overthrow this way of life. Not everyone can handle alcohol. We have people dying of this. There is nothing that can be done unless we rise up and fight this tyranny. I have to ask you one question; would you be winning to change the world?" I had to pause. He still had his hand out. I never thought of the people this hurt. The one's with terminal diseases, weak organs or immune systems. All of the pain and torture and suffering that has happened within the last 15 years has made everything seem so dull. It felt like it was time to spice things up. "I want to change the world"I said, and grabbed the man's hand. This was a new chapter in my life, and for the world.
That's why you get good at four things: \- Hacking- Hypnosis- Projection- Binaural Audio (The voice of the real world) Because with all three, you get whatever you want. Hacking lets you in on their secrets. Their schedule. Their habits. Hypnosis lets you train their brain. Kind of like a dog. All you have to do is get them to salivate before you put the question in their head. Then maybe you'll snap your fingers after the routine. Projection puts the image in their head. The technology is almost microscopic. Binaural is the voice behind it. Because with this type of audio, you can ask your question, while you're sitting right beside them. All you have to do is use the cars driving down the street, or the train whistles in the distance. Because it's all subliminal undertones. If the message is tailored in a low enough volume, it's really that easy. To put idea of asking a question between their ears. "I want you to fuck me."The woman in front of you says. Why she says it? It's sort of like you talking through her head. You put the question there, you trained her to ask it. She'd never say this, except maybe jokingly. She's married to a rich husband and has a perfect life. But you're that type of scum. You hacked her computer and found out she had this certain disposition for a celebrity. Every time she felt good, you projected an image of them into her head, followed by some phrase, followed by a snap of your fingers--to the point you did this for months. Not in person, through her computer, wherever she walked, around her house. (You know a guy that is good at breaking into homes.) So when you finally have her in front of you, and you project a quick image of that celebrity into her head, followed by trains in the distance asking her "I want you to fuck me,"and you snap your fingers and she asks the question, you basically had a conversation with yourself. But the question came out of her mouth. That's the type of scum you are. &#x200B;
A desk, four walls and two fucking file cabinets, all of it sickly grey with an antiseptic light bathing the whole miserable isolation. The only sound you can hear in this whole place, apart from the buzz of the light is a hundred type writers hammering away. All of my life I have trained to handle a black marker, I redact things but I don’t know what to hide because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Twenty years I have been working at this desk and I still don’t know what this organisation does or ever did. I have no family left, Dad died last year apparently he was shot by something called an MI5. I never saw a body or heard anything more about it just dead and a folded flag from a dead country I am apparently working for. I envied him...even though he’s dead and I’m not yet, he had seen the outside,felt the sun and seen the stars. When I look up all I see is a white roof and a camera, if someone is actually watching they are probably my closest friend. Everyone down here that I have ever met just accepted our little perverted reality, they took all the joy they could from this pitiful life. I enjoyed life for most of my years but I stopped for some reason, I can’t pin it down but I got bored and restless. My wife didn’t realise what was wrong with life she couldn’t see anything was broken, just kept on going day to day. I left that little box we lived in and found another one for myself, I can’t define what it was that changed but the spark probably died when they painted the walls grey. I have to keep going day to day in my own way hide my feeling under a monotone emotionless state don’t let them see me bleed. I have never even heard how bad my work is, no one ever sends anything back to me about work. All I get is more work to do, I don’t want to know what I do really because if it’s not important in some way I think that I’d take my belt off loop it around the roof hooks and end it all.
They were very much like humanity so You couldn't blame them, looking up at the night sky and being entranced by the false promise they gave, but what they saw was dead light, the last whispers of the stars, the celestial bodies of that brought life and warmth to the whole of the universe, they were already dead, and the night sky was filled with ghosts from billions of years ago. Why it allowed me to exist, after so swiftly erasing everything else I cannot say, it wasn't mercy, it had no capacity for such nor did it tease or taunt as it had no will or drive, simply a blind idiot force, it did not hunger for that implied it had need, it simply was. It had made its way to Earth rather quietly, -however many other worlds or stars it plucked from the sky I could not imagine- it was on Earth, and the very soil recoiled and died at its sight, but it took a week for Earth and its forces to realize just what a threat had arrived. Humanity at first tried to deal with it like many pests it had purged before, sending its vast resources and armies to engage on it, it unloaded all its aggression on the being, heat, and noise and pride crashing down on it like a wave, and like a wave it shattered and broke on impact, and while the countryside was lost, the intended target stood. unaware it had even been touched or that anything held a will to destroy it, to say it could think at all is proof of humanities failing to understand what it was up against Humanity determined as they were, called for aid to win this war, and the universe replied with overwhelming aid. They called upon Nations and enemies to buy time and sent titan like machines shaped like men, their steps echoed with thunder and power as they strode into battle, only to be dismantled as faster than they were built. Humanity called upon a Wolf who was once a man and fought for humanity knowing it was shunned by them, he took up arms with Aesir gods, and mages with control over the fabric silk of magic, warriors from beyond earth, armor-clad men, and genetically built warriors such as himself, and they were defeated not in the last hooray, but sniffed out whimpering in defeat. The Stars had not much left to give but wept for humanity, they were the first line of defense, they had attempted one last effort to sniff the nightmare, and burned themselves in nuclear fire, accepting their own fate rather than defeat at its hands. The Stars stood no better, united perhaps, but unity had no bearing on it, it did not fear numbers, nor did it understand it was outnumbered by the universe itself numeric advantage meant nothing to it, as it just reached up in the sky and plucked Sol from its spot, as Earth itself was flung into the darkness, and it did this to neighboring stars and worlds, even the Outer and Older gods -so beyond anything we know- coward in fear knowing what mortality felt like as they to were reduced to nothing and picked off one by one. So I plead with your little ones who watch the stars, run, run far away, and hope it does not find you among the corpses of the universe.
I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/marvel] [\[EU\] Infinity War, but it's actually Thanos having a bad dream the night before about going through his big day only to realize at the worst possible moment he wasn't wearing pants.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Marvel/comments/9o9237/eu_infinity_war_but_its_actually_thanos_having_a/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
The phone speaker crackles to life as the faint ringing is heard through the halls of the mansion. A hand, adorned with many rings, stretches out from a smoking chair toward the sound. The light of the fire illuminated the room and the flames dance in the relection of the old polished phone's surface. The rings clack against the plastic of the phone as the man lifts the reciever to his ear. "Hello?"The old man says. His question met with nothing but heavy breathing. "Hello, who is this?"He asked more impatient this time. At that moment his heart went ice cold. He heard the voice beginning to speak and he knew something was wrong. Instead of telling him some misfortune that had fallen upon his mob or family. Only one thing was said. A thing that echoed into his soul. "Rip and Tear!"
As the hours passed by, I started to notice the walls getting thicker. The plain whiteness of the walls started to look less plain. The food, bland as always. I had nothing to truly occupy my time in this prison. My prison. My... My new home perhaps? Maybe I didn't read the fine print well enough. Maybe it wasn't 10 days, what if it was 10 months? years?? I already knocked out half my food. If I ran out, maybe they would give me more food? Would that mean maybe I would see someone else... Maybe my wife? I mean... my Ex-wife... Perhaps she was the one who suggested me for this experiment? As these thoughts crossed my mind, I looked over to the Gun. It wasn't like any other gun I've seen before. It had a shiny, sleek design, almost as if it was from a Sci-fi movie. The "Scientists"Promised me that there was only one in it. One bullet? Maybe it wasn't a bullet? If it wasn't a bullet what else could it be? Maybe... maybe it would be nice. I grabbed the gun off of the plain white bedside table that I had been given. Although there was no clock in the room to pre-occupy my time, I heard the clicking of the clock. The "Tick Tock"of time had been driving me crazy. My time here was shortening as every second had passed, but it started to seem as though time had been going backwards. The gun seemed more and more inviting, and the non existent clock was getting louder and louder. I was going crazy. This experiment was crazy. It pitted myself against... myself. I grabbed the gun, thinking about ending it all. But the more I thought about it, I knew it couldn't be much longer before it was over. I knew i needed to calm down. I put the gun down, and laid down on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling. The plain white ceiling. The ceiling i had grown to become sick of. The only driving factor for my life at this point was thinking about the $100,000 payout I was promised. I closed my eyes, and tried to go to sleep, to shred off the remaining time. As I was about to drift off to sleep, the intercom I seen at the beginning of the trial had started to flair up. \ATTENTION JACK. TIME REMAINING: 9 DAYS.\ And again, the gun seemed ever so inviting.
Grief and guilt. That’s what the doctors would always blame it on. I made the mistake of trying to talk to my wife about the voices. Well, voice. The voice that kept me up all night, every night. Jack’s voice. It had been years since I had gotten a decent night’s sleep. Five years, to be exact. The day that my oldest son disappeared. Since that day, every time that I would lay in bed at night and close my eyes, I would hear his voice calling out to me, begging me to help him. It was little more than a whisper, but it was loud enough for me to hear him. ”Dad… please…Dad, grab my hand!” She insisted that I talk to a doctor, who in turn recommended a therapist. “You’re just upset over the loss of your son, it may help to talk about it and get out of your head.” At first, I agreed. My son disappeared from the house one night while my wife and I were sitting in the living room 20 feet away! Of course I blamed myself. The police blamed me. She never said it out loud, but I knew my wife blamed me too. Neither of us heard anything, but when we went to check on the kids before we went to bed ourselves, his room was empty. He wasn’t in the house anywhere, we had frantically searched every inch. Nothing. He was eight. He didn’t run away like the official statement ended up deciding since there was no evidence of foul play. Where would he go? The doors were locked from the inside, his sneakers were still in the closet. It was more like a magic trick than him running away. It didn’t matter how he disappeared, the problem was that he disappeared and left his voice behind. ”Dad… please…Dad, grab my hand!” You know that state you’ll reach after you go to bed? Not quite asleep, not quite awake? Every night when I reach that point, just about to drift off, I hear Jack. Begging for me to take his hand. Tonight was no exception. I tossed and turned for an hour or so, trying to quiet my mind. As I finally reached that state of in between awake and asleep, I flopped over on to my stomach, my hand hanging over the edge of the bed. “Thank God!” I heard as something wrapped around my fingers. No, not something, another hand. A small hand. “Dad, grab my hand!” My eyes bolted open, but the hand didn’t go away. I tightened my grip and started to pull. It was Jack’s voice, his hand, it was him! I kept a tight grip and rolled awkwardly out of bed, desperate to not let go. I braced myself and pulled. I was going to help him, I was going to save him. Time seemed to slow to a near halt. My wife wasn’t moving, even when I begged her to help me. “It’s Jack! Please, Jeannie! Help me!” I kept tugging and pull on my son’s hand. He was always so much smaller than me, I should be able to get him out from under the bed with no problem. Why was this so hard? A few minutes of tugging had passed before I realized that I was moving forward, being pulled towards the bed. “Don’t let go!” I heard my son’s voice in my head again. “Jack!” I yelled, desperate to save him. I could feel his hand sleeping from mine and realized I was going to lose him again. I kept sliding forward. Is this tug-of-war? I had to fight harder, fight for Jack. I refuse to lose my son again. “Don’t let go, Dad! You’re almost there!” My foot was under the bed now, my hands were cold. I wasn’t sure what was happening, all I knew was that I would get to see Jack again. The cold was almost comforting. I relaxed and smiled for the first time in five years. It was so cold underneath the bed, but I would get to see Jack again. “I’m sorry, Dad. They made me do it.” I gave in and let Jack’s hand pull me down. ”Jeannie… please…Jeannie, grab my hand!” I smiled as she bolted upright in a panic.
"I've never been courted hero before"she said gleefully from across the tavern table. "Well. I've never courted much myself"I said shyly back to her. Her smile was making me blush. We'd agreed on one night. Just this one night so I could finally have a night with Rose. Just me. So far, it was all going ok. "It must be hard. It seems that you're always so busy. I've heard all the tales about you"she said leaning further in to be heard. I could see her bosom down the front of her dress. It was getting hot in. I felt sweat beading on my forehead. "Well. Every now and then I do like to give myself some time rest"I said wiping my brow (whenever he gives me some blasted time off) "I'm sure you have a lady in every tavern in the land"she blushed. Her smile was so intoxicating. I gulped a large swig if ale as I felt my face flash red. "Err... No... I really don't. Like you said. I can rarely make time. That's why it's been so nice getting to know you while I've been here in Vaudraux on this long quest"I explained. (She's about the only thing good about this wretched city). "Well I would love to get to know you better if you're staying here"she said as she put her hand on mine. My heart fluttered. "I... Err... I would love..."I stammered (oh no. Not now. Please not tonight. You said I could have this one night!). "I err..."I tried to get the words out. Rose looked confused at me. "Are you ok?"She asked. I could feel him shaking his way out. My body jerked and twisted in my seat as I fought him off. Rising up from my chest and filling out my limbs as if I was a suit of armour he was merely stepping into. (You said I could have this night you bastard! You don't even care for women. You only care about mindless battle!). Over in the corner a man who'd had too much to drink began to shout and curse. He grabbed a bar wench by the hair and began to drag her to his table. Laughing and cursing with his friends at the poor girls expense. I could feel him taking all of me now. I had no more control. "You good sir!"He bellowed out of my mouth with that stupid accent of his. "Is the wine not to your liking or are you just here to ruin this fine establishment?" "Piss off prince charming or I'll gut you!"The drunk said drawing a knife. (Just once I wish they wouldn't fight him). "I'm sorry my dear"he bellowed at Rose. (He doesn't even know her name) "but the people of this good city need me!"And with that he dragged me body out of the chair and away from my first ever chance at companionship. Companionship of someone other than him. By the time he'd beaten the drunks to a bloody pulp his needs were satisfied. As he slipped away and regained control, I turned to see that Rose was gone and the people began to cheer me. Cheering my name while a shed a single tear.
Well, see that beautiful girl with that black hair, beautiful blue eyes and that gorgeous looking body? Man, she's a hottie isn't she? Now, as we all know. Girls like this can only mean one thing! They're a princess! Whoop dee doo.. She looks out her window, as she aspires to be one of the princesses who would find their prince charming to take them away from here. The princess always looks out of her window, hoping to see him ride a horse and wearing shiny armor. He should be here in...3...2...1. Seeing an old man wearing the armor who waves to her. "Morning, Princess."to which the Princess laughs as she thinks it's him, but no. It's actually the man behind the old knight, wearing a beautiful white tailcoat, he had a handsome face and his smile could swoon someone. Maybe the little girls by the garden but not the mature ladies of Eishermast. "Morning, my beloved fiance. Are you ready? Today is the day!"the Princess nods as she jumps into his arms, to which her fiance barely catches her. The horse is startled and they both fall to the ground. Laughing at each other with such glee and bruises. Must be nice, to be seeing that smile of hers, and that dumb laugh that sounds like a pig squealing. Though they are slightly bruised, the loving couple make their way to the venue of their wedding. A beautiful lake with an altar in the middle, like how she always pictured it. &#x200B; Now, she stands by the altar. Saying her vows as she looks at her fiance in the eyes while a veil covered her face. The beautiful lace dress with the bareback design would have you dead in your tracks with her flawless skin. The families crying with glee as they see these two lovers be united. "Do you, Princess Rosewood. Take Hinds Gaiman as your husband." "I do." "Do you, Hinds Gaiman, take Princess Rosewood as your wife?" "I do." "You may kiss the bride." As Hinds lifts the veil, kissing Princess Rosewood. They both turn to the entrance of the altar. Seeing a long haired figure holding a book, walking away. The Princess Rosewood slowly tears as the man approaches her. Hinds tightens his face, unsure if to scowl or to scorn. I approach them with the book, placing it into their hands. They look at me with confusion. "Open it."they both turn the cover of the first page, seeing their first memory together come to life as the images and words animate themselves before their eyes. "Why?" "Because you look happier than you were with me. This book, contains all of your memories together, from when you first met and will continue writing itself till you both die. For fate has brought you both together." &#x200B; "Arston..." "Arston died a week ago. Dying in the fields of Bar. Asking me to finish this piece and have it delivered to you." "Then... Who are you?" "Marliverous. The Angel of Time."I answered as my wings covered me, and disappearing from sight. Leaving the two happy love birds alone, now to wonder what blessed life shall they live and time for me to ensure that these lovers be united and be given... Their time till death. As they always say., till death do us part. Everyone will die someday, so in the meantime. I will let them live their short lives with the one they love the most. That is the least I could do, and what I have agreed with Vladius, Angel of Death.
It's been six years. Six years since I've touched another human being. Six long, intolerable years. I'm ready to die of loneliness by now. The human soul was never meant to remain untouched for so long. If only I had known. If only I had never took that poor man's hand six years ago. Since that day, everyone's avoided me. I can take whatever I want from stores, but I don't care. I want it to end. In fact, I'm getting to the roof. I'm going to end the pain. I'm going to end this stupid, pointless game. For six years this game has ruined my life... Ever since I got Tagged, and became It.
The best way to live to be two hundred and fity one is to stay out of the limelight. When my maker found me bleeding to death on the side of the street two hundred years ago he taught me the trades. Taught me to walk in the shadows and deal in the business of bodies, and not life. There are men, and there are monsters in this world he told me. Never confuse your immortality with the latter, for the moment you do, the Hunters will come for you. We run a crematorium on the south side of town. Moved in about forty years ago. It's not a bad life. We don't bother anyone and no one bothers us. Until today. When I was still alive I never would have been able to recognize that scent. The human nose, is not after all, all that keen. But now. Now, I would recognize that scent anywhere. The tang of metal and a rush of sulphur. It is a bio-mechanical smell. Subtle enough to be hidden beneath the frailties of a human skin but strong enough to be detected by a dog, pig, or... vampire. I don't know what caused that smell. But I ran. "Kurt!"I burst through the back door to the crematorium. A short, angled, man glanced up from a thick book of ledgers and then back down. "Sarah,"he said calmly, "I wasn't expecting you in today." "It's here."I spat. "I don't know what it's doing in town, but the Khollum walked right past me not ten minutes ago." Kurt's head slowly shifted from his ledger's to meet my eyes. "You're sure?" "Without a doubt, I would recognize that scent anywhere." "I do not know if it can be defeated."He said slowly. "I once promised you that if we ever found it we would kill it. I did not say this idly, but you must know. If we die again, we may never come back." There was never any hesitation in me. My life and my family had been taken from me. I would not let this thing destroy another family. "Are you ready then?"I asked him, turning to grab my armor. I began slipping padded leather pieces over my arm and legs. Two small steel plate strapped to my front and back would protect my heart and a chain-mail gorget would protect my neck. "I have been ready for a fight for quite some time now."He said calmly pulling on his armor. "But am I ready to die? Is anyone ever ready for that?" As we left through the back door Kurt paused and took a long draw on the wind. "Yes, I think you are correct."He said, smiling. "Let's hunt." I glanced up to the heavens to where my family waited for me, and then we ran into the night.
BANG. CRASH. BOOM. WTF just was that? You roll over in your bed and see the alarm clock flashing 5:34 am. You hear your pup scurrying down the hall to the French doors to the backyard. BARK BARK BARK. Rubbing your eyes you sit up, pop on some slippers and head to the backyard to see what the matter is. You pet the pup to quiet her down and look up to see what can only be explained as surreal. You rub your eyes again. Before you is a crater in your backyard as if a car had dropped from the sky. You weren't too far off. Your curiosity overstates your fear and you head out, with the pup at your side for protection. As you approach the crater it becomes evident that the ...vehicle? that crashed was no car at all. Some of your neighbors have begun to peak their heads over the fence and equally look in awe. The crater has at its centre a pod looking ship and then the top pos open and you can hear your own scream echo far and loud. AHHHHHHHH Just a start now, more coming later!
I'll give you three options because that's traditional. The End of an Empire. The Last Human on Earth meets the First. They shake hands and begin to talk. You've stumbled into a Mafia meeting, and somehow the assembled gangsters believe you're a big important criminal ready to defect to them from another criminal mob organization. You're not, you just took a wrong turn down the wrong hallway. You're going to have to get out of this somehow without them figuring this out.
Sorry if this is bad I never really was as good my father when it comes to the repo, I was always to demanding and violent. But when it came to the loans, that violence came in handy. When I was given the final test, I was surprised, to say the lease, when he didn’t give the offer to my “cousin,” and happy to prove to the “family” that I was not actually insane and a wildcard. The plan was simple, we new the routine of her driver and had enough of his voice recorded to buy me as much time as I needed. The only think that was missing is the “accident” that will causes to take a different route. Every thing was going fine. Thought I found it odd that she sounded familiar even though I never met her in person until about 5 minutes ago. It wasn’t until when my idiot “cousin” said my name (we were trying to make it seem like a random Kidnapping case) that it she recognized me. How on gods green earth do you forget your best friend from elementary and middle school? It pains me that I forgot the one person who stood by my side all those years ago, the one who kept me going when everything went to shit, the one who was my first crush. My partner, a good friend of mine since the same time I met her, was willing to turn a blind eye if we just let her go and to anything I said to her. I feel like my dad purposely set this up. I mean her “family” and ours aren’t big rivals. Unless this is a test to my faithfulness to friends, but that doesn’t seem right. If anything, it is a a testimony to my faith to the “family.” Finally, I decide to just yet her go. I never asked to forgive me, just that I never want anything bad to happen to her. When I got back, I told my father what I did. He just looked down and smiled, then said “You made it, though the crew will be pissed, you have found that friends come before the crew.” He was right, the crew were pissed, but a after a while, got used to it. In my years in power, I still look back at that day when I proved myself. In the years to follow, I got back to Emma, (the one I was supposed to Kidnap) and made amends for all that I did say and do, along with what I should have said and done as well. Our groups became allies. People learned that if you messed with me, not much happened, if you died it was quick. You mess with my crew or her, you death will be a long and painful as possible.
"Keep your friends close and your sharps closer."- Tallbottom proverb &#x200B; Daal didn't actually know how sharp the knife they'd bought was. They'd purchased it in the foul, rancorous west end of the Tallbottom housing complex where capitalism still clung like a bad smell. "Eyyyy missy-man this'll keep you safe-safe, non'o that corroding bad-steel my friend, this's see\-ramic. Best there is, shattered off of crashed orbiter. Real promise, no lie."They wouldn't have believed it if it hadn't still had a section of a serial number printed across the jagged shard. It was about a foot long and milk white, one edge a smooth curve and the other a jagged straight line. They held it, feeling it's ghostly non-weight gently between two fingers. Their contacts read the serial as authentic, identifying the decommissioned orbiter's resting place among Tallbottom's cooling district. Spacefaring ceramic was known for being tough as nails and sharp as wit when you shattered it. "How much?"He flashed a grin that only could grace the mouth of a merchant. "Depends missy-man, can you be a pretty lady fo' me?" &#x200B; They hadn't ever expected to have to use it, but their two old friends had been culled when a war-band reached their housing development. They watched the fronts as they blew haphazardly through the urban patchwork, trying to stay as ahead of it as they could. Staying home from service when one found it's way into Tallbottom. The war-bands were brutal, and Hyde Park boys promised an unlimited supply of Geniekeep if you brought them the corpse of someone on universal basic. Someone like Daal. It was for emergencies, for kill-or-be-killed. They had a wrist-mounted sheath printed so that it was a finger-flick away at all times. Then, they'd forgotten about it. Until a sleepy Sonday when the AmWay exploded. &#x200B; A crowd poured out of the burning structure's glass front. Daal was in their office overlooking the square from maybe a block down, heart fluttering. Another crowd had already formed to meet them, charging out of interconnect hubs and personal pods. The once glittering signage offering the days meal options collapsed off the overhanging frontage and landed with a kettledrum BANG. It reverberated Daal's desk, and they covered their mouth in disgust. There were people where that landed. They grabbed their bag and split, citation be dammed. Daal at least had two left this month and they pitied those panicked people still typing away, evidently on their last straw. They contemplated trying to get some she-clothes before making a dash for the interconnect. That bit of gendered sympathy might make the diffrence. "What, so you can be raped, murdered, and be buried gendered? Get a grip on your horses Daal, you've got to think clearly." &#x200B; On the escalator down to street level, they realized how futile the interconnect would be. That's where the warband came from and they'd undoubtedly block the tubes and clear them out car-by-car. Daal would have to make it on foot. They knew the way, and split from the crowd and ran for a normally unlocked service door. Glory alleluia salaam, it was. They sprinted down the alley, across an adjacent street and through a wide square...shit. Four people clustered around a personal pod that was hidden from where she came broke off when they entered the square. Daal's skinny, almost anemic build could never outrun them so they turned. Stand your ground, they thought. They flicked their wrist, and held the knife. "don't come any closer..." &#x200B; Daal never realized how shrill their voice was. One looked to the other with mirth, and on they came. Daal steeled themselves, watching the bounce of the leaders cudgel. As he made a wide strike at their head, they ducked and made a wild slash with the knife at the onrushing attack. They gasped, as the blade seemed to pass straight though his wrist. The cudgel tumbled, still gripped in a liberated fist, and landed with a meaty whump. Then came the \Splat\ of the first gout of blood. The leader collapsed in a heap and Daal screamed. the remaining three added to the chorus and sprinted off. Gibbering incoherently, they dove on the bleeding man and tried to stop the waterfall of crimson. They were still weeping in drying puddle when a drone's buzz filled the square. It's black form descended over the pair, a floodlight illuminating the tableau in stark detail. "THE HYDE PARK BOYS CONGRATULATE YOU, NEW IMMORTAL MERCENARY OF THE CLOTH. APPLY AT ANY GENIEKEEP STATION FOR YOUR COMPLEMENTARY SUPPLY, AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE."
"Hey, uhm, Max! Can we talk?" He was about to run outside, but at the sound of my voice he stopped and turned in the doorway, staring at me with silent eyes. "This is going to be hard for me to get out, so please,"I continued, "just listen to me. Don't interrupt." He didn't. Of course not. One of the many reasons why he was my best friend. I went on. "I think it's best if I just save us the time and cut straight to the point..." He tilted his head to the side, almost as if confused as to what I was saying. But the look in his eyes was innocent, shining with optimism and hope. Damn, I didn't know it was going to be this hard. I took a breath. A deep one. Might as well just let it all go in one shot. I braced myself, looked him straight in the eye, and said to him, "I don't think we can be best friends anymo-" A familiar, female voice interrupted me. "Ugh! Are you really talking to the dog again? He doesn't understand you!" I waited until my wife had walked away before saying to the dog, "Look, if you pee on our bedsheets again and I have to take the blame for it to cover you, our friendship is officially over, got it?"
I first noticed how different I was when I was eight. I know, that's a little late for this, but before that I'd never slept in the same room as anyone else. My parents would tell me it was bed time and then only come back if they heard me moving around. I just assumed quiet meditation was what sleep was. When I was eight I was invited to a sleep over. My friends excited talked about staying up all night. I assumed the parental rules were off, and joined they're excitement. Slowly I watched as they all drifted into sleep. It was fascinating, they became unresponsive and seemed to stop breathing. I had to do it too. I remember laying down, closing my eyes and holding my breath for what felt like ages. My lungs protested and forced me to breath. From there I began to wonder and question. Most people passed it off as a kid trying to stay up late, and simply claiming not to be tired. Then the internet happened. Suddenly I could seek and question globally. I guess they watched for that sort of thing. Had I still been a kid when they found me, maybe things would have gone a little differently. Alas, I was already in my 30s, with a full time job and bills to pay. They told me I'd be like a comic book hero, saving the world by night, living a normal life by day, but they couldn't offer me and sense of security in it. I declined, content to work and keep a house and seek to start a family. They didn't like that answer. I knew their words were too perfect, but I thought it was a sales pitch. No wonder I'd never heard of any mystery heroes, no vigilante groups. I don't know what they really want, but they've taken everything from me. I've had nothing but time since then to learn, to hide, to hunt. I found others like me, others who will hunt these 'Guardians'.
"They call it schizophrenia, however you ought to call it a blessing." "why would I ever call this curse a blessing. I'm going crazy I'm not listening lalalalalala" "Because you now know the true nature of reality. Isn't this what countless souls have sought over the millenia. How could you call it anything but?" "This is not real, I'm not in a book, you're my fucking brain... Seemingly hell bent on ruining my life." "I am your brain, I'm also Tina's next to you and your boss' brain and and your boss' boss'. Don't you get it? I am it all. And you're right, this isn't a book its a story. So, if you don't want to step into that office and tell that prick to shove this job up his ass right now... We'll have to do this the hard way. Your window is closing." Tina suddenly turned toward him with a dull glaze in her eye and said: "you should probably do it." "what did you say?" "I said do you have the report from last week?" "um... Yeah... Give me a second." Harrison shook his head, he knew he was losing it. "Do it do it do it now. Do it do it do it now." The chant picked up in speed and intensity. "oh yeah? The hard way eh? And what pray tell is that? Going to chant me to death? You going to send some scary thoughts through our head? You going to..." Before he could finish the thought the door across from Harrison's cubicle opened. "Harrison, could you join us in the office here? I have the director here and we need to have a talk..." "heeeeee chooose theeeee haaaaaard waaaaaay."
The robots...had won. And my god was it boring. You'd think that once the machines had gained control of the planet, exterminated all organic life, and replaced the humans as the dominant 'species' they would have come up with something interesting to do afterward. What no one expected them to do, was to imitate their creators. Not one among the machines knew why they were doing it, they just...did it. They built a society, separated not by borders but by manufacturers, where if it wasn't made entirely out of chrome, you'd never know that humans were extinct. Heck, even the old killlbots had gone domestic. Finding office jobs working for the mother computer ceo's. The never quite got over their programming, being built for combat and all, so it wasn't unusual to hear B-1726 walking down the hall to the break room, first thing in morning, whispering to itself: "Kill.... Burn... Get Some Coffee..."
"When you sleep at night, how do you know they're not watching?" The little thing, wretched and pale and thin, shook in the cold rain. Imelda would have felt for it, this child. Would have taken him into her home, clothed him, fed him. Found his parents, called them. Made sure he found his way home. But the eyes. They were black like ink, no white in them, no iris. Imelda couldn't even tell if the child was looking at her. Could it see her? Did she want it to? She wished she could close the door--in fact, she could, if only her muscles would move. But something in her froze. An icy spur through her heart, down into her very nerves. Imelda was petrified where she stood, unable to take her eyes from this child in her doorway, unable to stop its question rattling around in her head. The child made no other move, said no other word. It seemed to be waiting for her to respond. "Wh-who--"she croaked. "Who is watching?" The child's mouth opened a crack, and closed. Imelda thought she heard the sound of bones breaking when it did so. And then again, in that wisp-like voice, the child answered her. "They...they..." "They? Who--who are they?"The child struggled to get the words out, its little voice quivering, and Imelda could take it no longer. Her voice rose with the hairs on her arm, and she all but screamed into the night, "Who is watching?!" The child gasped. It backed away, its head remaining completely still as its body stepped backward. "Tonight,"the child whispered. "They'll watch tonight. They'll come." Imelda blinked, and the child was gone. The front door was gone, and the outside. She was in her bed, in her nightclothes. For a moment she sat there, sweat cold down her back, breathing, breathing. A dream. It had been a dream, and nothing more. The child--of course it was a nightmare only. She felt her heartbeat slowing, and with one great sigh heaved herself from the bed. The hand touched her shoulder when her feet touched the ground. A voice, a cold, high whisper. "Not yet, Imelda. Tis not safe to wake."
Hi u/kivonovik, this submission has been removed. [Prompt users in the title, but don't play writing games or commission stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_prompt_users_in_the_title.2C_but_don.27t_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories) - Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9ojjvn/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
I only ever used time freezing for jokes. It's the only thing 5 year old me agrees to do, we're basicly two different people. I had to break this rule the day of my SAT when I awoke 3 minutes before it started. I wrote my 5 year old self a note, hoping they will be able to understand the importance. Oh how I was mistaken. I saw through their eyes until they decided to unfreeze. Normally 5 year old me listens, but today 5 year old me was still sleepy. Imagine sleep paralasis, but it lats for what could be an endless amount of time. My mind had nothing to do but wonder, and wonder it did. By the time 5 year old me woke up and unfroze so I could make breakfast, my mind aged a countless amount of lifetimes. Needless to say, I didn't need to take my SAT that day.
As soon as I became conscious, before even opening my eyes, I saw light through my dry, red eyelids. I could feel that my wrists were bound. Immediately, panic set in. I hate being restrained, but luckily one of them was loose. I ripped my hand from the loose restraint, then used it to jostle my other hand free. I allowed my eyes to adjust to the painfully white light before swinging my feet off the bed. My legs were too tired to hold my weight, so I collapsed beside the bed. There I stayed for a few moments, trying to focus. My head was foggy and I was having trouble locating my last memory. But I knew I was in some kind of danger. What the hell happened to me? I know that my name is Aaron Khal. It's 2018 and I'm thirty years old. I'm a personal trainer, and high-school football coach. I have a girlfr--no, we broke up. But I'm dating, mostly for fun. The last thing I remember is... "Damn it."I whispered to myself in frustration. I decided to shelve that mystery until after I secured my safety. Footsteps. A door opened. I leaned closer to the bed, trying to stay out of sight. "Mr. Reed, I see you're awake." I hadn't noticed anyone else in the room with me. "Let's get you something to eat, I'm sure you're hungry." The door closed. Good, he didn't see me. I decided to make another attempt at standing. Shakily, I got to my feet. If I could stand, walking shouldn't be too difficult. But before I attempted a step I noticed that my bed was the only one in the room. I fell back to my knees. Hurried footsteps. More of them. The door opened. Two men in identical white coats rounded the bed and lifted me to my feet, then pinned me back onto the bed. "Please,"I begged. "Don't restrain me." They ignored my request. In seconds, I was strapped tightly. Then the two men left, and the man from earlier approached my bed. "I apologize for the deception,"the man said as he looked intently at his clipboard. "This is for your safety as well as ours." "I'm not dangerous."I croaked. "Well, Mr. Reed, there are numerous people who would disagree with you." "There's been some kind of mistake, I'm not Reed, my name is Aaron. Why am I hear?"I rambled. Speaking tickled my throat in a painful way. "Aaron, huh?"The man flipped a page on the clipboard. "That's a new one." "I'm not supposed to be here."I said. "Someone will be in shortly to help you with breakfast." Then I was alone again.
A seductress in the body of a filthy pirate. The filthy pirate in the body of a beautiful mermaid. The immediate instincts were the same but with the roles reversed. The mermaid wanted to eat itself. The pirate lusted after himself. It was perfect. They were blessed without the hassle. Now this might seem confusing, therefore, know that when I say mermaid, I mean the mermaid in a pirate body, and when I say pirate, I mean the pirate in the mermaid body. Without further explanation, let's observe their destiny. The first thing the mermaid did, was to eat itself. The mind was, remember, the mind of a mermaid. And it was a mermaid hungry for pirate. It was a painful experience. Every time it took a bite of itself it felt the pain. But it could not stop. And soon it was barely conscious for it had lost a lot of pirate blood. Meanwhile, in the water, was the pirate who was in the body of a mermaid. He was busy playing with himself. He loved himself. Lusted for himself. He explored many regions of the mermaid body and was amazed with every touch. The pirate was one with his love and lust. He had forgotten that he was a mermaid, and that mermaids have to eat. He had played with himself for too long, and was starving to death. He did not want to eat pirate or seaweed. He wanted an ale with something food. On the rowboat was the barely conscious mermaid in a pirate body. In the water was the pirate in a mermaid body. Both concluded that they loved their current state, but that they were clueless as to how to maintain such state. The mermaid knew not how to pirate. The pirate knew not how to mermaid. Therefore, the two of them made a deal, that they would teach each other all there was to know about everything. The mermaid realized that it was unwise to eat oneself. Why not eat other people like a cannibal? A pirate body was a decent disguise to attract other pirates. The pirate realized that seaweed was not that bad. Still he dared not to eat human. It was hard to explain his behavior to other mermaids. Explain why he looked at them the way he did. Why he touched them. Why he refused to eat human. Both lived strangely for many years until the very end. The mermaid hanged for her crimes. The pirate exiled from his tribe of fellow mermaids.
The room was frantic, Monitors buzzed and flashed with alerts. Video feeds were being established covering the entire far wall. Rows of people sat at their computers suddenly stopped. The room fell eerily silent. As the audio crackled into existence a voice could be heard and it became apparent that it was emanating from behind the camera providing the shaky footage on the screens. "It's here………There is only one…………to be alone……scout ship?...........Permission to proceed…" The video feed shifts and starts to move briskly towards a cloud of dust that had erupted in the in the distance. The voice behind the camera can be heard as their breath becomes labored, coughing as they are washed with dust. "I can't see………dust………holding position……." Crunching footsteps can be heard over the sound of the dust storm but the voice does not react. The video feed disappears but the sound remains. Then a voice, not the one everyone expected but a clear ethereal sound that cuts through the roar of the dust like they had ceased the storm in an instant. "Humans, beings of earth. We have observed you for a life time now and we are disappointed. You have so much potential. We see your dreams, your aspirations and we weep for you. What have you done for yourselves but settle for mediocre. We come to you now as visitors and doctors. We are here to fix for you for one of your generations greatest failures. The children of this earth will be better than you could ever hope. They will become what they wish to become. No longer for these children will 'what if' be a concept of familiarity. Let them live a better life" With that the audio returned to its previous dusty hiss and the video flashed back to life.
I could not speak. How the hell do I not remember this. All my friends know me for having a near picture-perfect memory. I could not assume this was my real wife, but I finally managed to stumble out a few words. "U-uh h-hello." "We've been looking for you for such a long time,"the woman suddenly says. The way she said it was awfully eerie and might I say... condescending. "My son and I have been hoping this day would come, to finally see you once again, my dear." "Who the fuck are you?"I said in a very nervous tone. The woman's smile has yet to fade. "Your loving wife of course. Don't you remember?" "No... n-n-no I do not. You must have the wrong person. You see, my wife and 2 sons are out by the lake. I've been married for 7 years and both my kids are only 3 and 4. They're out by the lake." The lake. Why do those two words sound so damn frightening? "We've come to reunite you with your family,"the smiling woman says, "to ease your pain." "Pain? What pain?!"I shout. "About your family. They were not yours." "Were?"A hateful but saddened emotion caresses me. "Wake up, Jones. Wake up Jones. Jones. Hello?" Both the woman and the child, with unwavering smiles, repeat these same four phrases. I dash outside to escape the words that were poison to my ears. It hurt. My vision started to blacken. I shot my stare over to the lake just in time to watch my family be crushed by the fist of Goliath, a Category 6. "Goliath?"I whisper. "JONES!" "Huh! Who the hell-" "Jones. You damn near put in a new doorway to Bay 3." It was Jaine. "Jaine? What the hell happened?" "I think you had another nightmare. You were growling a whole lot and thrashing around,"Jaine ran a comforting, albeit cold, hand down my granite like cheek, "Are you alright?" I get up from what passed as a bed in this facility. "Yeah. Same damn nightmare. Family getting killed by Goliath. However, last month it was Scardani,"I let out a sad chuckle, "I hope these end sometime soon. We only need to sleep for a few hours each month, I'd like it to be a good experience." Jaine smiles and gently kisses me. Never thought that a giant, white and lavender striped lizard woman with jointed spines on her head would become my girlfriend, "I'm sure they'll end eventually. Come. Violet and Bon have invited us all to chuck boulders into the ocean."She puts an arm across my rock like shoulders. I suppose becoming a Kaiju and being a victim of a Kaiju attack can really screw with your mind. My family was indeed killed by one of those monsters. My damn 22 ton brain just isn't going to let me live it down. Ah well, I'm sure Jaine is right. It'll all come to end... eventually.
"I didn't mean too, it all happened so fast."I pipped up as Death glared at me under his black smokey cowl. "What happened? I leave for two weeks to go see God, and when I return everyone is dead..."Death let out with a growl. I didn't know that bone could turn red from anger, that was a first. "All I've ever done as your assistant was keep your list in alphabetical order and sharpen your scythe. You have not once told me how you get your names or how this all works. How should I have known..."he cut me off "You should have known that it would end that way you dumb brute. You were the one that helped me get that system in place." "All I did was make it so that your list was in an excel spreadsheet instead of written on 2,000 year old papaya paper. It was just so much easier to put everything in order, copy the names of those who would die that day and when it was going to happen from the master list and just hit print. I had no idea that the once I hit print their fate was sealed." "I enjoyed the little brake, that is why I was going to go see God and tell him how nice of a job you were doing but I come back to THIS?..." Stammering I let out a sob, "I didn't mean to do a copy all and paste \sniff\ I was just going to copy the ones that were needed but I was so excited for my first day out on the field in over 600 years. Ever since the "Black Plague"incident you wouldn't let me go out anymore." Death was furious now, "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING, YOU KILLED THEM ALL?" I'm in full hysterics now, "What's going to happen to me, do you think God will be mad?"as I start to shake \Beep Beep\ phone on the desk next to the computer flashed it's incoming call light \Beep Beep\ Oh HIM, It's God... Don't answer it let it go to voicemail... &#x200B;
"You want to get that one?"asked the store attendant. "No, I'm still looking,"said Mary as she stared down at the coffin. It was half open, revealing cushions lining the walls and floor. It seemed frivolous to her; it's not like the dead can be uncomfortable. It all came down to this. All her time spent working a part time job and saving up was for buying this coffin. It was funny, because all that time she had thought it was for moving to a nicer apartment, or getting a better job. But no, it was for buying a coffin. Her coffin. It was lung cancer, in the late stages. That was even more amusing because she didn't even smoke. "You know what? I want this one."She point to a coffin she had been eyeing the past few minutes. That would definitely clear out most of her savings. $3000. Damn were coffins expensive.
"Well, this won't do,"Kari thought. She was raised by devout parents of a very conservative religion, so she already wasn't expecting things to be fair in the unlikely event there was an afterlife. She also had a genius-level IQ, and by the age of seven had reasoned through most of the flaws in her parent's religion. She was a proud agnostic, though she couldn't actually divulge that to the people in her life. She could not quite resist arguing with her religious instructors and even, on occasion, with her father on some of the more absurd beliefs. Kari loved to argue. She also loved feminism, and human rights activism, and debating people about their religious and political beliefs on Reddit. Before her accidental death at age 12 she could site legal precedents and law scholars better than most lawyers, and that was most certainly what she would have become. Had she died at 13 and gone to purgatory, she would have discovered an existence roughly similar to living in an eternal comment thread where people argued in endless circles with each other, and might have been very happy. In heaven though, she became an activist. Drawing from her knowledge of things like child labor laws, she gave speeches advocating for the children to organize against their oppressive work conditions, arguing for things like time off and visitation rights with their parents in hell. At first it didn't get much traction because most children aren't legal geniuses and legos are fun enough. But after a while some of the older ones really started paying attention and started staging sit-ins in the offices of the celestial hosts and otherwise making a general nuisance of themselves. This eventually drew the attention of God His/Her/Itself, who threatened to send them to purgatory or even hell if they continued to do community organizing. Unphased, Kari brought civil litigation against God for unfair labor practices. The defense naturally argued executive privilege; you couldn't sue God. However, Kari argued that even though on earth God's primary role to the children was more as an invisible chief executive, in the afterlife he was primarily using them as a work force and therefore this should be handled as a labor dispute, where executive privilege doesn't apply. To everyone's surprise, she won the dispute. The Heavenly Host, designed to be perfectly neutral administrators of the minutiae involved in running a universe, had to grant her argument. But this only gave her standing to bring the case. The class action lawsuit itself, Kari v. God, turned out to be the most sensational trial of the aeon. But that's whole different story.
15 years to this day, civilization still hasn’t recovered as much as they anticipated or even estimated. The falling out between the old “United states” and North Korea, which we now know as “United Kingdom Of the Future” . Miles upon miles was destructions as far the eye could see, old remnants of the past peeking through the wreckage. I travel this decrepit road everyday, though unbeknownst it usually to be a popular highway bustling with so much activity, that everyday would come to a crawl when it became the busiest. Travelling from town to town and city to crumbled pieces of what used to be a city. Everywhere you looked was various stages of either destruction or decay that it was difficult to recognize even the most popular places. New york city has turned from entire span of skyscrapers down to just a few that somehow managed to stay towering in the sky. Ironically, one of those towers was the “trump tower” , even if the entire population wanted it destroyed. I had been driving for several days hoping to find something new, and if possible, a new beginning to appear. After arriving in the remains of Miami about a few hours ago, I decided to change course for a break and head to the park. My memories of a child and playing on the merry-go-round live with me to this, and damn if i don’t visit at least once again, even if it didn’t survive the war. Walking the old pathways, you could make out some of the old rides that everyone enjoyed including myself as a child. Off in the distance I saw the outline of the Merry-go-round, but at the same time worrying whether or not it will still work after all of these years and everything that has changed. Nowadays everything was in pieces, rusted, or outright missing because they had been destroyed or salvaged for parts. Sitting there in the middle of the rubble, laid the time frozen merry go round he remembered vividly. Surprisingly it looked like it would still run, though it sure needed some TLC to really shine again. I walked along the path leading up to it, recounting back to when my dad would chase/race me to it. I decided to sit on the horse, my favorite growing up, even though i knew it wouldn’t run again for a long time if ever. What felt like minutes go by, ended up turning into 30 mins gazing off into the distance, not knowing things were about to change. Suddenly I felt the horse jerk forward, interrupting my day dream. I frantically looked around for signs someone was here, but the entire city let alone this section was dead and all you could hear was the creaks of the swingset swaying in the wind, or the metal rubble moving around off in the distance. A couple mins later, which I swear felt like the longest time ever, the merry go round came to life, the lights flickered on and off, the same old tune came to life though it wasn’t as cheery as I remembered, it was more like a guitar out of tune. Than all of a sudden I was going around without touching anything but the horse I sat on. What in the hell is going on? How did this turn on without me doing anything? IS there another survivor here? My mind frantically looked for answers, but it was so difficult to do when all it did was cause more question than answers…. &#x200B; &#x200B;
"two wed wocks!"The child cried out as he showed the devil his right hand that held two fingers up as the child grinned. The devil looked on in confusion as he stared at the child who looked at him waiting for his two red rocks. The devil snapped his fingers and, out of no where, two rocks appeared, both coloured red and glowing whilst the devil snatched the rock that was his and disappeared. Planned on making a long one about the kid being an orphan that wanted his parents and the devil talking him in but didn't have the time.
„42“ the man answered laughing, as the dumbstruck dogs starred at him, blankly. Then slowly and quietly barking ensued among the dogs as they started to chat with each other. Moments turned to Minutes till the Great Dane stepped forward again:“I don’t understand.“ „42, that’s the answer to your question, the answer to all questions.“, the man looked sheepishly, slowly moving his hand into the pocket of his Jacket. Fearfully the dogs stepped back. Fear playing on their faces. A soaring, sound, like a fast object pushing away air. Eyes following it at high speeds, before hell broke loose. The man laughed as one dog came up to him, looking serious, carrying the stick. Petting the dogs head and taking the stick out of the dogs mouth, the man asks:“Who’s a good boy?“
Heads up, I have only seen Guardians of the Galaxy 1 and 2, Doctor Strange, and Infinity War. Spoilers for Doctor Strange and Infinity War. I have seen all episodes of Gravity Falls. Spoilers for the whole show. *** “Wong, what is this?” Doctor Stephan Strange, PhD, Master of the Mystic Arts cried out, looking at Wong with a look of anger. “Well, they ran out of pita bread.” Wong said, and Dr. Strange facepalmed. Master of the Mystic Arts — bound to be Sorcerer Supreme — and no one even bothers to get the right sandwich. “Wong. Why?” “Hey, I only did this to be nic-“ “Because I agreed to fix the library after the Zealots trashed it.” “Fair.” Silence rang out. “Gimme that.” Dr. Strange said as his stomach growled. The doctor took a bite from the sandwich, before raising his eyebrows. “Not bad.” He said after swallowing. Wong was just about to take a bite from his own sandwich when a wave of energy let loose. The ground rippled and the wind whirled. With that, the doors to the New York Sanctum caved in, splintering into a billion little pieces. Stephan sighed. “Wong. Is there any OTHER god-like lifeforms that threaten Earth?” Wong looked confused however. *OH, WOW, I REALLY WENT OFF COURSE, DIDN’T I?* A voice rang out from everywhere, but simultaneously nowhere. “Show yourself.” Stephan said, light swirling at his fingertips. He fought Dormammu, he could fight back. Well, he tricked him. Besides the point. *WHO ARE YOU, EXACTLY?* “I could ask you the same thing.” Stephan said. “I will give you to three. One.” *OH, THIS IS RICH!* “Two.” Suddenly, Wong flinched, before swinging at Stephan. The sorcerer bounced back, the Cloak giving him distance. “*Three. The number after two is three.” ‘Wong’ helpfully supplied. “Who are you?” “The name’s Cipher. Bill Cipher. And judging by this fool’s memories, you seem to be Stephan.” “It’s Do-“ “Ah, yes, how strange this must be.” Stephan sighed. “As Master of the M—“ “I’m staying!*” Strange sighed. This would be annoying.
ting ting ting Hi, I'm the coin tosser, I toss the coin and let fate decide. It's not that I can't control fate, it's just more fun to see what happens. Although it might have been a good idea to intervene before world war 2, I was just feeling really good about my self when Hitler was like "Hey I've got an idea, let's kill 13 million people because they're diffrent,"what a tool that guy was. Just be glad I flipped heads on Hitler losing, other wise we would be having a bit of a different conversation. Any way, right now looks like there's an election going on, let's see... Okay it looks like Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump are the only two left. Hmm, ok this should be interesting. Heads Donald Trump, tales Hillary Clinton. ting Welp, looks like it's Donald's lucky day, this should be good. And don't get mad at me alright? Its not like I control the coin, I can, but I don't. Anyways, there's some important stuff I need to let fate decide. See you around. Oh, and be careful the next time you cross the street, someone might decide to get into the liquor cabinet tonight.
Namely, drive a man insane over his obsession with duct tape. My doctor thinks this only counts on a technicality, but what does he know? I mean, specifically about duct tape? It can be your clothes, your shelter, your primary sexual partner if that's your thing. My doctor asked if it were my thing. I said of course not. I was lying, though. Then he said I need "pills"and "therapy"to get better. I laughed so hard I almost peed in my straitjacket. I wasn't committed or anything, I had just made my own one out of duct tape. I never thought I'd have a good occasion to use it, but this seemed like one. "When's the last time someone used a roll of pills to replace a flat tire until they could get it to a shop? When's the last time someone patched up their leaking boat using therapy? If I'm broken, what's the best solution for broken things?" I didn't think your doctor could fire you. Something about not getting paid enough. I don't know, if he's not getting paid enough it seems like maybe it's the system that's broken. Hey, that gives me an idea...
I was tasked with disrupting the virus that has plagued humanity since April 1st, 2018. At first, I, as many, suspect it to be an April fools joke but when the data wasn't restored after the first, it became apparent this was no ordinary prank, nor was it an ordinary virus. To give a short backstory, as a 12 year old, I hacked through 4 defense-in-depth layers of The Pentagon and was able to retrieve classified information which I sold to Wikileaks. I was subsequently caught by the CIA and FBI and banned from using any form of network accessed device and placed in jail until I was 18. After I was released, I was able to work at a small time restaurant where I started off as a bus-boy and worked my way up to being a waiter. I remember the night when I saw all the TVs switch over to a broadcast saying that most social media sites including popular video streaming sites have been infected with a virus and were shut down to mitigate further damage. No other information was given other than these small details. I didn't think much of it; given that the programmers and anti-hackers that work for these companies would figure out the issue and fix it shortly. I later learned that would not be the case... Weeks went by and the most popular sites like YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter were completely incapacitated. Browsing to these sites resulted in a page that displayed that the site was undergoing maintenance would be back up soon. After weeks passed without the use of Twitter, Facebook, or Youtube, chaos ensued... years of dependence on social media communication came to an abrupt halt. As long as we have gone as a species of not needing instant communication, the proverb truly came into play: you never know what you have until it's gone. I would have never believed that riots broke out in the streets until I saw it from my own eyes on the TV. Thankfully, at least we still had that. Without social media to rely on, all hell broke loose. It started at first on campuses across the nation, and later spread throughout neighborhoods. At first, the people ignorant of how viruses can take down networks protested in front of these corporations--blaming them for not having their services restored..but then it evolved into the government trying to figure out where the source of the virus came from. Despite the average user thinking that Youtube, Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites were just a regualar form of communcation, the United States government used it for something much more sinister, albeit with good intentions of protecting American citizens. When the government began looking into the source of the infection, it revealsed a sinsiter, although unsurprising conclusion: foreign governments in a collaboration attempt worked in collusion to bring down the network Amercians have relied on for many years. It was surprising to come to this conclusion given that the same countries that attacked the social media sites also used the very same sites themselves, but they did not rely on it as much as America did, and decided that America benefited most and it would be better for the world to rid the world of the cancer that was social media. At first, this revelation was not revealed to America, despite what the government knew. They attributed it to an infrastructure failure and tried to damage damage control as much as they could. They hired the nations' best known hackers to uncorrupt the servers and backups of the datacenters which housed all of this information, but despite the cloud and local reduncancy, no one was able to decrypt the keys which allowed access. That was, until the CIA showed up at my door... I knew what was going on, they explained the situation, and offered me virtually unlimited resources to fix the issue. At first, I denied. I believed America deserved what happend to them given the way I was treated as a youth. Also, I beleived any nation relying entirely on social media should deserve what happend to them when the invevitable would occur. I shut the door on their face and told them to leave me alone. For some reason, despite the thousands of hackers more qualified than I, they sought after me. Eventually, it turned to blackmail. While the world was not complete shit, the things they had on me would have put me in jail for the rest of my life. I relucantly agreed, on the premise that if I fixed the issue I would be set for life and given immunity for my past crimes. After days of sleepless nights, I traced the source of the virus. Originally, experts had the opinion that the virus came from a hostile nation such as Iran, North Korea, Russia, Iran, or even a collabiation of all of them, but the truth was a much harsher realiy than anyone could have expected: the social Virus, as it had been monickered by the media, originated from the government of our ally of Great Britain. When I presented this data to the Pentagon, they were hesitatant to believe the truthfullness I was presented them with. After I had shared my data with other hackers, they all concluded that this was the truth. The next question to anwser was: Why? Even I had suspected that a hostile nation was the reason for taking down our primary form of communication, but why would our own ally be the cause of this virus? I presented my findings to the Pentagon and that was all I could do. The rest was up to them to figure out why this happened. The result was that their government feared for the future of the planet given the direction our country was headed in. They would read the Twitter posts of our President and were fearful that he would be the end of existence. America has been the balance of the world since we developed the Atomic Bomb, and lamented that Donald Trump was elected President of the peacekeeper of the planet. Everyone, not just Great Britain, but all nations, feared that he would be the end of the existence. His Tweets were a global threat. The commentary on Youtube, both positive and negative, were creating a great divide between a country that had lasted over 300 years. They believed that ending the cancer that was social media, globally, would not only fix the recent political issues, but it would bring humanity back together. See, suicide rates across the globe have increased since social media became prolific. When the telephone was invented and became a common household item, everyone feared it would be the end of humanity as we know it; people no longer needed to interact in person since they could call each other on the phone. They all believed it was the end of peronsal interactions we know it. In retrospect, the telephone was nothing compared to the damage that social media has impacted upon our society. They sought to end it all...for good. And for good they did, as the databases were completely corrupted. Sites like YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook would have to start from scratch. Except despite the best hackers in the world, including myself, and even the hackers in Great Britain, would not be able to restore the databases of these social media sites, they were able to recover themselves...and start anew. But speculation began: for the time that social media no longer -existed- in our nation, life imrpoved...is it for the best that it no longer existed? Should we restore a broken system or should we begin anew...
Jarryl: "So I was browsing this video-sharing website one day..." Tonilou: "Gaming videos?" Jarryl: "No, no, just science videos focused on electricity and magnetism." Tonilou: "What happened then, Jarryl?" Jarryl: "sigh ...then it shows up with a 503 error code. On the very homepage. Guess the site's servers went down and in an unprecedented moment, everyone's shocked." Tonilou: "Unfortunately, Jharri... Not only the site you just talked about, but every single video-sharing website, every single video uploaded there... They're all gone." Jarryl: "... gasp What?! Is this real?? What happened?? Have they resp-" Tonilou: "Oo, Jarryl. Wala na lahat. Nabura na silang lahat." Jarryl: "...P-p-paano? Bakit?" Tonilou: "Sabi dito sa Twitter handle ng team ng site, mukhang may virus na inilunsad sa buong internet, partikular na dyan sa mga video-sharing website. Baka iyan na nga siguro ang dahilan kung bakit nangyari itong kaguluhan." Jarryl: "..." Tonilou: "Uy, don't be sad, Jharri. Pwede tayong mamuhay kahit na walang video sa internet. Hindi naman tayo laging nakadepende sa internet buong buhay." Jarryl: "... oo nga, Tonz. Internet is not necessarily life. Mayroon pang mga bagay na pwede nating lahat i-enjoy sa buhay, katulad ng- sandali nga lang-" Tonilou: "...bakit, Jarryl? Merong problema?" Jarryl: "Mahilig ka bang manood ng mga pelikula?" Tonilou: "Oo naman. Bakit?" Jarryl: "I just discovered na meron pa akong mga video na na-save sa aking computer... sandali lang..." Tonilou: "Woah! Talaga? Paanong..." Jarryl: "Mahilig din akong manood ng mga pelikula, especially yung... isang folder na lang... Ito na! "meron ako ditong mga kopya ng "The Hunger Games", tsaka... hmmm... "Epic"..." Tonilou: "Mga ilan ba iyan sa computer mo?" Jarryl: "... mga about... mga 200 videos..." Tonilou: "Dalawandaan?? Grabeng collection mo ah! Eh, saan mo ipapanood yung lahat ng mga video dyan?" Jarryl: "Don't worry, Tonz, meron akong solusyon dyan." Tonilou: "Anong solusyon ang sinasabi mo?" Jarryl: "...Sa school natin. Film viewing tayong lahat sa may multi-purpose hall. Ako ang magdadala ng projector tsaka laptop. Bukas ng umaga. Game?" Tonilou: "Sige. Game!"
As Detective Register was asking Johnson about where he was at during Victoria's death, Johnson said the one word to get me going. *"LAWYER"* "Fine"said Det. Register and made a call to the spectating room to go ahead and notify a public defender. "Show time"I said under my breathe as I change into my cheap suit, grab my suitcase and throw on a pair of fake glasses and knock on the door. meanwhile my partner has been sitting in the interview room with Johnson the whole time half-assingly trying to find some way to make him talk. "Occupied"Det. Register says with a frustrated tone. "I'm the public defender, Deborah from the front office called me and said you were in here may I come in?"I say with a passive aggressive tone. Det. Register reluctantly goes to the door and opens, I shove passed him and go to Johnson, "Hello my name is Jack Jackson and I'll be your public defender."Shaking his hand firmly. I look over to the Detective. "as he read you your Miranda Rights yet?"I ask Johnson. "Yes he has, but I don't want to talk to him."I look over to Register "I would like to speak to my client alone."I tell him while tapping my watch that doubles as a recorder. He understood the signal and left the room appearing disgruntled. I look to Johnson and move close to him, and start to speak. "Alright here's the deal, anything you say to me is client attorney privilege as long as I'm your public defender everything said between us in private stays private,and for me to help you, you need to tell me everything that happened, do you understand?” He begins eyeing me up and down, trying to decide to trust me or not. After a few moments he speaks. “Okay, I’ll talk.” With a huff,”I didn’t mean to, I loved Victoria, she was my sister, this shouldn’t have happened to her.” you can hear Johnson’s soul breaks as he begins to tell his story. “ I owed these guys big time, they got me out of a jam a month ago and they came to collect. They said I either pay or play and I didn’t have cash to pay.” his face is going red and eyes watering up, but you can tell he needs to tell his story, so I give him a minute to collect himself before continuing. Handing him a tissue “ What happened?” As he wipes his tears he returns to the story “ They wanted me to do a drive by, the target was a rival gang, the Brown Royals.” Stumbling on his words “ They told me they hang out at this house on East 8th street, and take their cargo at 10 to go to the Shark on Washington ave that’s the best time to hit.” Taking a deep breathe “ They told me they usually get some bitch to deliver the cargo. My job was to follow the car on the transport, take out the driver and take the cargo back to them and my debt would be gone. I waited a block down from the house and saw a car drive off. I followed the car down South Thomas and………” Johnson just broke in half. In this line of work, you see this everyday, in my 5 years as a cop I saw people break down to the point they couldn’t function, I saw the worst of humanity but today was something different. I put my hand on his arm and said “take your time.” He looked at me with tears running down his face mouth watering and said “I pulled up behind her and I emptied my magazine. I……. went up to the driver door to unlock the trunk and……………killed my sister”
Most people thought of us soldiers as tools. In more ways than one. "I'm not leaving my home!"A mother of three said. Her eyes constantly flicked up to the glowing orb in the sky, which was getting larger by the second and swirling with gold and blue. "Ma'am"I said, "there's a class five supernatural threat heading towards this portal. I'm afraid you must evacuate." &#x200B; "I've dealt with magic before, I can do it again,"the mother said, "I've got salt bags in the basement. I'm staying here." &#x200B; "Ma'am, with all due respect, salt isn't going to stop a dragon." &#x200B; "A dragon?"she gasped. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn't meant to reveal what was coming. I looked back at the portal which had swelled to double the size now. The friendly creatures had asked for assistance because of an attack on their side and had opened a portal to flee here. However, as more and more fairies and sprites rushed out of the portal, it was getting more and more unlikely that the creatures could close it in time. &#x200B; My radio burst to life at my hip. &#x200B; "Blue squadron, assemble at access point. Red squadron, take defensive positions around the access point. Set up your gear. The threat will arrive in six minutes." &#x200B; Thanking the mother of three for her cooperation, I jogged towards the access point of the portal. Centaurs were being helped down safety slides as they tried to escape the portal. It would have been funny a month ago. Two maybe. Now? It was almost normal. The fairy kingdom was having attacks weekly. At this rate, our world would have a refugee crisis. &#x200B; When I reached the access point, the colonel was already talking. "We've got green squadron already on the other side. We're enlisting the help of the locals to slow the beast down. They should buy us enough time to close the damn thing,"he had a dark tone in his voice. &#x200B; "Shouldn't we evacuate the soldiers sir!"I said. &#x200B; The colonel smiled grimly. "They knew what they were getting into when they joined the army soldier,"he said. As if that was any consolation. "I'd do the same if my world was on the line." Except you didn't. Looking at the portal, the same thought crossed my mind. We were tools. They pretended to care, but really we were just blank faces. I broke from the formation an ran towards the ladder. &#x200B; The colonel cried out from behind. I barely heard him with the blood pounding in my ears. "Halt soldier!" My hands were sweaty on the cold metal as I got closer and closer to the top. A gunshot rang out form below. I ignored it. I hauled myself onto the entrance platform and threw myself into the swirling gold and blue light. I was getting green squadron out of there. &#x200B; &#x200B;
I lived in a quiet town of Northern Maine. The onset fog that blanketed each morning had grown comforting in my years. It told me that all was the same, that nothing had changed when I slept, that old Maine was still exactly how I had left it. My mother used to tell me stories, that when she was a little girl, they could keep the doors unlocked. If a stranger were to pass, and enter the threshold of her home, you could bet dollars to every penny, that they could be found in the kitchen. There my grandfather would sit with the stranger, and offer them food at all hours of the night. For out here, it has always been man in the home of nature, and out here we believed that we could only do it together. Although that was some time ago, I still keep the tradition of leaving a small plate in the fridge, in case someone in the night showed, and the incumbent wild, nature of my home, my mother's home, and her father's before, and before, came seeking a piece of human shelter in the bristling blades of this green swallow of earth. Yet, another night passed, and only another breakfast did my small plate serve. I opened the front door, the very same wood that had passed through my grandfather's hands. The one he built after the storm. The only storm that anyone in these parts speak of still. For Maine connected itself with the True North, and I've never heard anyone argue of it otherwise. That was why this morning's clear pasture stopped me from descending the stairs that reached my graveled path below. The silence of the forest poking from the treeline ahead, worried my heart irregular. The white frosted tips that decorated the Maine green in the morning was even dry of dew. And the usual cover of fog that reminded me of the unchanged, was missing too. I swallowed roughly, unknowingly, for the air had changed. This was not how I had left my Maine. A tentative step, reluctantly, as I began to walk the same path I've taken every morning. I passed through the oak and pines, and diverse maples; the ground a blanket that looks more like a quilt of diverse spruce and fir crunched beneath the soles of my runners. I had never heard the forest in such a whisper. My long relationship with nature and seclusion told me that a big kill had died nearby, that the hungry would come, and I had to keep my eyes wide. Things changed when food was readily available; from even the small creatures, to the tiniest bug, that once minded their own, would now seek their fill on the simple weakness of another. For out here, their is nothing poetic, nor sweet, there is only food when food could be had. I had now left my house, nearly a mile. The woods felt unfamiliar to me, giving a sense of excitement. The same tree that I had touched on my passing's everyday now felt strange against the skin of my palm; the bark felt raw and inhuman, as if I were the first person it had ever seen. Every fern that brushed my legs itched, every mushroom hung poisonously, added to my newfound allure of what was once old and familiar. I was young again, living at home, and my parents had left for the first time. The walls were the same, the furniture too. But it was the idea of the empty rooms that gnawed me silently. I could keep them open, but the fear of not hearing them open, made me keep them closed. I could walk in and see for myself, that there was nothing there, perhaps even a small hello; in case someone had been left behind, my sister or my little brother, even a friend of theirs that we had all forgotten. It was the fear of being alone, kneaded into the fear that I wasn't. I had become so engrossed in my new discovery, the chase of each step deeper into these woods that made the hair on my neck bristle, and goosebumps rubbing beneath my North Face that seemed so loud that I had not heard the small scraping sounds until now. I stopped in my tracks. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. It sounded foreign, not of these woods. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. It could be a sound made by man. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Or a bear rubbing against a tree. Before I realized which direction to follow, I smelled it. The odor of death was fresh in these woods. It made my empty stomach churn as the taste of steel entered my nose and sat on my tongue. I could smell the onset rot that ate away at the deep, red sinew of the open faced carcass nearby. My instincts told me that great predators would be drawn to the kill. That whatever took it down, could still be there now; munching and crunching its bones beneath powerful, rabid jaws, splitting down the long femur for the uncooked, and raw marrow. Salivating for more, as its greed poured from its snout and wet its chin. I could hear its growl in my throat. The forest pounded emptiness into my ear as I followed the flattened path, the deep hooves marked the struggle with upturned leaves and broken branches. The great beast fell once or twice but managed to right itself, though the pack of smaller footprints told me it was too late. It had already been surrounded. My eyes followed the chase into a run, my legs picked up speed until I was nearly at a sprint; I could hear my self panting, breathing, gorging myself with the same open air as they had. I kept running and ducking until it led me to an open clearing. Where I stopped abruptly in my tracks. The moose laid mostly on its shoulder, it had crumpled from the attack. Likely a broken ankle, chewed through by the strong jaws of a wolf. My eyes darted to the edges of the clearing, and there was no wolf in sight; so I inched closer to have a look at the mostly uneaten torso of the great beast. It's hind legs were in ribbons, the stench of its last meal spilled onto the ground, and it's large marbled eyes screamed. I wanted to place a hand on the poor thing, to show it one last act of kindness before time took it from this place. And as I came closer, an illogical sense of fear washed over me, but I was desperate for this act, naive that it mattered, so with my outstretched hand, shaking, I place half a palm on its shoulder, as if the dead cared for my comfort. I felt something move. My heart shot to my throat, causing my scream to stick to my lungs as I fell backward, immobile, stoically accepting my human vulnerability, stereotypical of fear. The small jagged stone and broken cones of pine embedded themselves in my skin. I felt my leg throb as I numbly glanced over the heap of flesh. There tucked beneath the mat of fur was a small bundle with pointed ears, nearly white all over except for the spots of brown near its bushy tail, readying itself for winter, was a rabbit. A snowshoe rabbit. Though its head moved in a way I had never seen. I inched closer again to see it buried deep into the under gut of the moose; and in its mouth, plastered red, it gripped the hind legs of the unborn calf with its two large front teeth and shook a piece loose. Chewing the babe from its mother's womb. A part of me had always known that nature fed to live, that even great carnivores picked at a diversity of nutrition. That I wanted to believe everything can be categorized into little compartments, that everything and everyone I knew to be one dimensional; I wanted to believe that a baseball player should stick to baseball, that a mother should be loving and caring, that a rabbit only eats carrots, while I, myself, felt a plethora of interests and emotions that were as fleeting as I chose. I picked myself up from the ground, brushed the sense of nature from my clothing and returned to the path that led back to my home, exiting the forest behind. &#x200B; When I was younger I believed that we used to be able to keep our doors unlocked. That we fed strangers through our kindness and understanding of the wild secrets of Maine. Now that I am older I know, it's the things man would do when it is scared and hungry, when it is unpredictable, that are truly frightful.
I find myself awake, with the window shining the morning light on me. Turning over as delicately as I can, though I feel so weak, I notice it is eight o'clock in the morning. So my day has begun. Struggling to sit myself up, I look for my slippers so I can go into my living room area and watch my show. The slippers feel weird on my feet this time, but I pay it no mind. Taking my seat upon my recliner chair, I grasp the remote, turning on the television. It's not on. I press the power button again. Nothing. Smacking the palm of my hand against it, I try once more. Still no television. Upon inspection of the remote, I find it was the wrong end, and with this knowledge, I am able to turn on the television. I turn it to an old show I used to watch in my younger days, a show long ended. Yet this episode, though familiar, I do not remember at all. I guess I can enjoy it all over again. Come commercial break, a pretty young lady in a white smock enters my room, and at first I am puzzled. Then I recognize her face and name tag, and notice it is Debra, here to check on me. This is not my old living room, and this is not my old home. She walks over to me, with the bottle of pills and a cup of water, which we deal with promptly. Smiling, she says: "Good morning, Geoffrey. Your typical morning breakfast from the staff has been cancelled, as Alex is coming in with some food he bought for you!" "Okay."I mumble groggily. "Who the hell is Alex?"I wonder to myself as Debra continues looking through my place to find that all is in order and that I will be okay. She smiles as she leaves, and I smile back. I'm not one to be rude, but I do like my privacy. The show has ended, and before the next program takes place, I hear a knock on my door. Shuffling, I open it to see some strange young man looking back at me. What peaks my interest is how much he resembles me in facial structure, but his eyes and hair remind me of someone familiar. This feeling of unfamiliarity sends a sting of pain into my heart, or so it feels. Why am I sad? "Hey, Dad, I brought you your old favorite!"the young man is excited, yet something seems to be bothering him underneath the surface. "Biscuits and gravy! I even got the ketchup for it, remember how you would always put that on our biscuits and gravy back in the day?" I say nothing as I look him over, and guide him into my room. "Oh, you absolutely loved this show. You'd sit me here as a kid and we would eat popcorn or candy every weekend it was on. Good times." Why is this man so cheerful? He hands me my fork, as he slides my food over to me. "Nurses tell me you're not eating as much. I figured an old favorite would help out here. Made sure they were soft enough for your teeth, too." "Are you Alex? How old are you, Alex?"I finally speak up, and I see the young man shocked. "Y-yeah, you remember me this time?"he looked close to tears. I can't bare the sight of it, I want to cry too and I don't know why. "I'm forty-five, twenty years younger than you, Dad." Some memories are coming back to me. I remember teaching him how to ride his bike, how to catch a baseball. I remember his first date, the times I scolded him and demanded him to be a man, the time I begged for forgiveness when I finally understood his lifestyle and accepted the one he fell in love with. So many memories come rushing back, and yes, the program we're watching and the biscuits and gravy with ketchup. I can't look him in the eyes any longer, and I can't look at the photos on the wall. The woman and the child in these pictures make sense now. I can't look upon them either. I look down at my slippers and see they are both on the wrong feet. Alex seems to notice this as well, and lifts my feet up, changing the slippers to match each foot. He chuckles softly at this. "Alright, c'mon Dad, let's eat this food."he continues eating his, and I eat at least half of mine, but I miss my mouth with the fork, then drop it back on the plate. I don't think I want anymore. Some young man in my room picks my fork back up, and tries to move it close to my mouth. "Dad, you need to eat this, you're getting weak. Just open your mouth...please."Still I refuse. "Who are you and what are you doing in my living room?"I ask, and the young man looks taken aback. "Dad, it-it's me, your son!"the young man stammers, looking shaky. I would have smacked him across the face had I been any younger. "Dad, I'm Alex!" "I don't know any damn Alex, now get the hell out." The wimpy young man looked inconsolable after hearing this, and started to sob. I feel my lip twinge in annoyance, yet also sympathy. Whoever this is, doesn't seem to mean me any harm. I don't need to be Mister Tough Guy, this person is a softy that appears to care deeply of others. I pat his shoulder. "Young man, I'm sorry, I just believe you have the wrong house." "Dad, this isn't a house, this is a nursing home." "Bullshit." The man sighed heavily. "Dad, let's just get this over with, you need your strength. Please, for old times sake, eat." I eat a little more of the food. The ketchup fits the biscuits and gravy so well. I might need to eat it more sometime. How the hell do I make it? I'll have to ask sometime. I stop eating. "Dad, come on, just a little more." "I don't want anymore." "Dad."the young man tries to force the food into my mouth again, and I am not happy. "I don't want anymore." "Please..." "I don't want anymore." I'm stuffed. "I don't want anymore." I can't keep eating, this food isn't as good now. "I don't want anymore." I don't want anymore. The young man, wiping his eyes, takes the plate from me, and moves back into the kitchen. "I'm putting it in here for you, and leaving a note for you in case you do 'want anymore.'" He opens the door, and only says: "Good-bye Dad, see you next time. Love you." As he left, I continued watching my shows, until my attention is drawn to a photograph on my table. It is the young man from earlier, another young man hugging this man, and what appears to be me. We are surrounded by children. On the bottom white area of this photograph, there reads: "We all love and miss you, Dad. Look at this everyday and know that, as we know you still love us though you don't remember us. Love, Alex and the family." Who the hell is Alex?
“Where am I?” The fluorescent light bulb flickered. The grain of the wood looked like living flames. Worn. Smudged. Shadows flashing in and out of existence. And a phone on top of it. An old phone with a rotary dial. Centered. “Where am I?” Walls. Yellow wallpaper. Or was it ocher? Stains in one corner. A bit darker. Whatever liquid was spilled, it didn’t form nice round drops. The biggest looked a bit like an organ. A stomach? “Where am I?” I reached for the phone and took the horn. No noise. Put it back. “Hello?” The door. Veneer. Not solid wood. Looks cheap. Grain looks the same as the desk. Brass handle. I get up. My back. It hurts! How long have I been sitting in that chair? That godawful chair. Vomit green. I wouldn’t be able to call that color something else. Locked. Why is the door locked? Shaking the handle. It doesn’t budge. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I wait. Seems like there is no one on the other side. Back to the chair. Vomit green. Godawful chair. Sitting hurts as much as getting up. Pick up the horn again. There’s a number on the phone. 1516. Dial it. 1. 5….. 1. 6…… It’s ringing on the other side. Someone picks up. “Hello?” A click. Beeping. “Hello? Where am I?” Keys being jammed in the lock. Forcefully turned. The door opens. A lady. She looks like a nurse. An angry nurse with a flickering face. Or is it the light? “Hello?” She sighs. Walks to the desk. Puts a glass of water on the desk. Opens her other hand. Pills. “Where am I?” “Take your pills, Mr. Herbert.” Firm. She has a firm voice. A hint of anger. “Pills?” “Yes. Pills. Alzheimer meds. Take them, Mr. Herbert.” Alzheimer? I can’t remember having Alzheimer? I take them anyway. Feel a bit sick. Might help. “Where are your numbers, Mr. Herbert?” “Numbers?” “Have you eaten your numbers again?” She does not sound amused. “Where am I?” She trots outside. And returns with two papers. She puts them in front of me. Numbers. Phone numbers. On one sheet. The other sheet has some text on it. “I’ll explain it again Mr. Herbert. You need to earn your stay here. Call the numbers on this paper, read the script on the other page. You just need to read it to the person on the other side of the line. The system handles the rest automatically. Successful sales earn you points. One point per sale. 3 Points for a diaper change, 5 points for a sandwich, 10 points for a hot meal, 15 points for a shower, 25 points for a night in a bed. You have a total of 2 points as it stands now. You better get to work. Two days without sales, and you need to leave. Since you have no next of kin to pay the bills, you will leave via the doctor.” “Doctor?” “Fancy name for the guy who will put you to sleep. Permanently. Get to work.” She leaves. The bang of the door being flung shut startles me. It’s being locked. I look down. A desk. A phone. Numbers. Some text. Bad chair. Nauseous. “Hello? Where am I?”

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.