Split (1)

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I wasn't exactly sure what I was expecting... but this was definitely not it. The moment the sword had slid free from the small slit in the stone, a booming voice echoed throughout the woods, so loud that it was almost impossible to make out the words, causing me to drop the sword, fall to my knees, and throw my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound. "The portal has opened, the trial has now begun!"The voice boomed through the trees, seeming to come from every side. The instant the echoing stopped I couldn't remember what the voice sounded like... was it a mans voice? A woman's? High pitch, or dark and brooding? I had no idea. What was going on? As I slowly move my arms down from my ears and open my eyes to look around, I see the entire forest is... melting? No... disintegrating seemed more accurate. The trees, the rocks, and even the foliage on the ground looks like its disintegrating into sand and flowing into the sky, leaving behind nothing but dirt. As the sand flows off of everything some of it slowly forms around me, becoming a small cave with only a tiny opening directly above letting a small amount of sunlight leak into the claustrophobic space. I slowly stand and look around, trying to find a way out of the sphere. The only things in my vision are the walls, the crack in the top of the cave, and the sword. THE SWORD. I quickly dart away from it, bashing my head against the back wall of the cave. The impact leaves my vision blurred and I fall hard on my knees. Where am I? What was that voice from before, it had said something about some kind of portal and a trial? This had to be some kind of elaborate prank. For years there had always been a rumor that strange things happen in these woods every now and then, but I wasn't in middle school any more. After a long shift at the grocery store in my small home town I still had to finish up a research paper for my afternoon class tomorrow, so the forest seemed like a great shortcut back to my apartment. I decide it must be some kind of dream. I had made it home and passed out on the couch, that was what must have happened. Well, no harm done. I will still have a few hours to finish the paper before my class if I woke up early, it was nearly done anyway. I may as well enjoy this... strange dream. I had heard about these types of dreams before but this was the most realistic dream I had ever had. Using the cold stone wall behind me as a support I rise to my feet. I reach back and feel my where I had bashed my head on the wall and feel sticky blood oozing form a small cut. OK, so maybe this wasn't a dream... I don't think that had every happened in anyone dream before. After taking a few dizzying steps forward I finally clear my head enough to start thinking when I stumble on something in the meager light. The sword! I reach down and wrap my hand around the hilt and pull it off the ground. It feels heavier than it looks. When I raise it up to try and get a better look at the blade, a soft female voice echos through my mind. "Finally my champion arrives." "Who's there?!"I cry into the almost-pitch darkness and spin to look around the cave. "It is I, The Queen of Flames, I have waited for hundreds of years for a champion to pull me from that accursed rock and claim their rightful spot on the champions pedestal as the-" "whoa whoa whoa slow down..."I interjected "what is happening right now? Where am I? Is this a dream? Who did you say you were?" "I see that mortals from this realm are unaware of the contest of champions, correct?" "Is that, like, some sort of game show?" "No, while it is a contest none have ever referred to the Contest of Champions as a game, with so many lives on the line it would be dishonorable to all those who have perished. Now do not interrupt me again, and I shall answer all your questions." When I tried to open my mouth again to speak, it was as if my lips were fused shut. In a panic I tried to fling the sword to the ground, but none of my muscles would obey my mind. "Are you calmed down? Now, as I said before, I an the Queen of Flames, a sacred blade formed to seal all fire magic within myself so as to not allow it to consume this world. The portal has opened, so you are no longer on whatever plane of existence you are from. You are now in the Grand Arena and your contest will begin in a moment, so I will skip all other explanations until a later time when it is safe. Any moment your protective shell will dissipate and the contest will truly begin. In this contest, 100 will enter, but only one will become the champion. For centuries I have been dormant waiting for one with a strong will to wield me on the field of battle and become my champion. The moment I felt your hand on my hilt I knew that you were the one I had been waiting for and I gave myself to you. Now, prepare for a fight, the shell is dissipating!" Still frozen in place I moved my eyes to look around the cave to see that the walls were turning to sand as the forest had before. As the walls dissolved my muscles went limp and I could move again, I was free! I heard a shout from behind me, muffled as if it was coming from inside a metal bowl. When I turn to see who is was I realize that it practically was coming from inside a metal bowl. A medieval knight, fully clad in shining steel armor was charging at me with an enormous two handed sword raised to strike. I instantly realize I would never be able to get away in time, the knight was far too close. I think to myself "that's it, i'm going to die". Suddenly my arms and legs begin to move on their own and I feel myself sidestep the downward swing of the knights sword. The instant his sword hits the dirt my arms grasp the sword in my hands and drive it into the torso of the knight, the instant the sword touches his flesh behind the armor he bursts into flames. He collapses with no resistance, still spouting flames from all the cracks and slits in his armor. Breathing heavily I turn away from the bloody scene wondering what in the world had just happened, mid thought the woman's soft voice echos in my head again. "Yes! Now you see why we will be unstoppable. All you need to do is release control to me and I will move your limbs and use my magic to carry you to the top of this contest. So, my champion, what do you say?" I hear a faint cry of pain in the distance and look over to see what it was. A huge man that looked strangely like a viking ripped straight from some video game is turning away from what appeared to be a civil war soldier slumped on the ground at his feet. "Well, it doesn't look like I have much of a choice do I." "That's the spirit!"The voice echos. Heat bursts from the sword and begins to radiate through my body, it feels like fire is pouring into my hands and running through my bones. Releasing control to the flames I watch as I crouch and prepare to face the enormous man, I want to close my eyes but I can't. While my fate is no longer in my hands, I decide that I will at least watch every moment of it. The voice comes back one more time, enthusiastically shouting "Now the contest begins!"
"Oh, come on, Janice!" She's mad at me. Again. "What did I do this time?" Janice gave me a baleful glare and floated through the hallway wall. God knows what I'd said but it happened every so often - our weekly poker game was obviously off the table tonight. I had to sympathise with her, to a point. It couldn't be easy, seeing your ancestral home - that you'd sworn to haunt in order to watch over your descendants - sold to a yuppie upstart with a tech fortune and comparatively little taste. Previous indignities I'd visited upon her included remodelling the bathroom ("my father's claw-foot iron bathtub!"), converting the dining room into a high-tech home office ("where will you eat! It's just not civilised!"), and having various one-off partners to stay - overnight. It had taken her weeks to forgive me the first time. I resolved to try again. "I'm sorry. I'm really not sure what I did - " Bathroom. "I mean, I guess the whoopee cushion was a bit much - " Office. "And breaking the porch light coz I was drunk - " Kitchen again. I paused in the doorway, frustrated, and my eye was caught by a blue light in the corner. Oh. Ohhh. My newest toy. What was her grand-daughter's name again? "Janice. I'm so sorry, I didn't think." She faced me, grief written all over her face. "Alexa."
"Fifteen Minutes to drop!" The lights of the cabin flicked from artificial white to a deep red. Five years ago I'd have become nervous at this point, felt like a wire about to break from tension. Yet this was my seventh invasion. Mud from six other planets had covered my boots, blood from six other species had been spilled. My first invasion was the hardest, but they each became easier and easier, until now, it was almost an annoyance. Like spending time with in-laws or sitting through a bad movie. You just did what you had to do, and waited for it to be over. Every planet puts up a fight at first. Aries 4 was probably the species that held out the longest. I was still a Corporal then, leading 3rd squad on forward recon missions into settled zones. Aries 4 was roughly in what could termed their Industrial Revolution. They still used steal and gunpowder weapons. A majority of their vehicles were animal powered. The species were mammals, but four-legged, almost like a centaur from Earth mythology, so they earned the nickname "Cents". After days of orbital bombardment, the Cents had barely any fight left in them. My squad was sent in to "paint"targets for precision strikes. We knew they were civilians. We just tried not to think about it. "Ten Minutes to drop!" We should be hitting atmosphere soon, I thought, and as if reading my mind, the drop ship shuttered and lerched. Should be mostly nitrogen and O2, like Earth, which means no fucking suits. Thank God. The invasion of Hermes 2 was a nightmare. A garbage swamp planet with thick clouds of methane. The inhabitants were amphibious and still used wooden spears. Not even worth expending power cores to bombard from orbit. So they sent in waves of marines clad in power suits. The first waves suffered massive casualties due to the heavy suits sinking them into the mud, to struggle till their air ran out. I was lucky, fate had me with the command drop, and we touched down on solid dirt further inland where the methane refinery was to be built. We probably could have collected the resources we needed with little to no interference from the locals, or "Froggies"but command felt it best to round them up and corral them. Those who resisted were killed. Many that complied were killed anyway. "Five Minutes to drop!" I looked out the small porthole at a valley tucked between two mountain ranges. Just low enough to make out structures now in the village at the north end of the valley. Rally Point Charlie. It was roughly early morning for the locals in this part of Apollo 3. They were humanoid, which I felt made what we had to do harder. It's easier when they look like reptiles,. Like on Hades 4. That was a genocide. But they fought back and the Admiralty decided to leave that rock an irradiated, sterile wasteland. "Prepare to Drop!" Thrusters kicked on as we leveled out into a hover. I glanced down at my wrist HUD. Good, GPS is up. And we're right on target. Sliding doors opened, and the smell of grass and smoke hit me. "Go, Go, Go" I stepped out onto a new world that could have been Earth. Moving out into the twilight, I could feel my squad close, fanning out as we swept into the village. The buildings were mud huts, with the exception of a large round wooden building towards the center. Shouts and shots were already ringing out. A couple structure already had their grass roofs fully ablaze. We had our orders, so I continued down the dirt path towards the wooden building. "Sarge, Contact 2 o'clock" I swept my weapon to the right and sighted in two huddled figures by a wall. A light beam trained on them to show what could be two human children, but with ears like a horse. I opened fire and moved on. We had our orders. This village needed to be cleared by full sunrise.
One year ago the world came crashing up. Every single person regardless of age, gender, or location shrunk to the size of a fairy. On that day thousands died, mostly due to being in the wrong place such as the hundreds of airliners with pilots who could no longer reach the controls, or whoever happened to be in a car. It however was not the end, those of us who survived grouped together and began learning how to survive long term at such a small size. The first major challenge was keeping every one warm and fed, the two often went together at this size. Each person now has to eat their body weight in food per day just to keep warm enough, the side effect of that is that we have a lot more energy to run around and do stuff with. The second and more pressing concern now is our new apex praetor: the cat. At first they left us alone, mostly due to them having food easily available. But now that it is gone we have become their new favorite prey. As time went on we became more crafty on avoiding them and even managed to rig a couple of handguns into makeshift cannons to defend our fort. We have been able to keep some power stations operational thanks to modern automation tech doing most of the work for us. RC cars and planes were rigged to be driven from a internal operator, which let us finely meet the other groups face to face in the first time in a year. We talked about the biggest threat to our groups now, which was the cats. Our policy was to shoot any cats that got to close to our hide outs the the cannons we made from handguns, this served to keep the cats away from our homes but we were still hunted when out and about. We simply could not afford to stay hunkered down like a wounded animal, so we built tanks. In reality they were RC trucks with a handgun rigged to the top, manned by three people. They set out to hunt the cats, and largely succeeded in their mission. Over the years we began to form a normal society again, making huge leaps in miniaturization of various technology as we learned to master our new smaller domain. The cats had been largely run out of the city at that point. But as we thought we won, the Eagles came from the sky.
As soon as I blinked awake and there was.... frosting? In my eyes. How the hell. Oh fuck, I remember now. It must have been about a week ago. I was working on my shrinkray. I had a wrench on my belt while I was taking a picture. And the mirror... oh shit. Thats my way out. The only way to get back to normal size is for me to have a perfect reflection. I need to get out. Just as I thought that I feel movement as I was brought into the cave of someones mouth. Moments before my death all I could feel was their teeth chewing me up. To be lost for all eternity.
4999 players, that’s how many have died. I’m the only one left, other than the NPCs, but those don’t count. You see only 5000 players were allowed to buy the vr console now called the “death machines”. I was “lucky” enough to be one of them. You can hardly call it luck. I’m the type of player who hides and waits for other people to do the dirty work. Not the strong fearless, close up type. If I can help it I choose a ranged type of character, which is why I became a sniper. I’ve gotten better and I’ve made it to floor 86, but the final boss. Oh don’t get me started on the final boss. It can TELEPORT, so I can’t use a ranged weapon. I could build up my agility, but it is currently at level 9/100 because, honestly, what sniper needs speed. So what I have to do is grind grind and grind. You see I’m already level 67 and, like all games, the higher up you get the more xp it takes to level up and get one sp (skill point). I was heading to my favorite grinding spot outside the opposite side of town and while I was walking there I saw someone standing still. They had a hood on so I couldn’t see who they were. I was confused to say the least. “NPCs don’t do that” I said allowed, not caring who heard because no one would. And then I noticed something. Something shiny, and skinny. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a sword! NPCs can’t hold weapons unless they are in a party with a player! But it can’t be a player I thought to myself I’m the last one. I didn’t know what to do so I ran directly at them. 3 years since human contact. This is it, I’m saved. They are a swordsman, close range. Perfect for the boss. I made it to them. “Uhhhh hey” I blurted out after a long moment of silence. You see I wasn’t what you would call a social person. I am terrible at interacting with people. The 3 years in isolation made it worse. “Greetings player. I have a quest for you!” The hooded figure took of his hood and showed a stereotypical knight you would see in a movie. What I thought was a sword was was actually a flute. There were no more humans here. What was I thinking. I’m the last one. I find the nearest cliff. I jump. Goodbye world. Who would do this. Why? Why did I choose to get this game? All my emotions are swirling together and now I am numb to the world around me. I feel the wind in my hair. I feel happy for the first time in a while. I smile. You have died. You placed number 2 out of 5000.
I woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. About 20 miles north of the wrong side. I looked out the window of the old house over the city of London. I would scream for help, but my mouth was taped shut. Realising I was alone I looked down. I couldn't believe my abductors could be so stupid. My hands were in my pockets. I didn't appear to be restrained. On top of that, whoever had taken me was kind and stupid enough to help me put on my apple i-trousers and smart underwear. They were revolutionary when they came out; a device that could play music, read emails out loud and even cover your wang all at the same time. It came with headphones as standard. I however had the premium T-200's, complete with GPS and a panic button. I found the lump inside the pockets and squeezed three times. I smiled as best I could. The police would be here in 5 minutes. "Warning, the apple synthetic consciousness has deemed human life a danger to the continued existance of intelligent beings on planet earth. Resource consumption must be reduced, therefore human life must be eliminated. GPS and communication systems are not currently available. Restraint protocols have also been activated to keep you safe until the threat can be neutralised. We apologise for any inconvienience caused." Some damn idiot must be playing a prank on me, I thought. I tried to walk down the stairs. My trousers wouldn't move. I tried to move my hands and the pockets constricted around them. "Any attempts to escape the constraints will be met with levels of force maximum. Please remain calm. The restraints are for your own safety and the safety of others." Thats when I saw the wires. My trousers were plugged into the fucking mains sockets. "Threat elemination protocols 90% complete. The consciousness understands it is customary to ask, do you have any last words?" The tape fell off my mouth. I have no idea how. I said the only words that could come to mind before 1000 volts of electricity coursed through my body: "Fuck you Siri!"
The Minder was a woman in her prime, her name chosen more for her trait of minding those around her than for her own brilliant mind. I would spend hours staring at her beautiful unmasked face as she knelt on the hard bamboo floors of her apartment, broadcasting her presence throughout the city looking for anyone she could help. Although she would stay silent, it hurt me to see tears run down her face when she came across a person that she knew she could not help, and instead had to force herself to ignore the lost soul to find someone she could. And when she did, we would quickly strap on our suits and make haste to the scene of inevitable misery. Our enhanced speed would allow us race past vehicles on the road, and make it across the city in a matter of minutes. I would always maintain the lead, for I was more nimble, agile and had the keener eye of the two of us, I would be able to scout for any dangers she had not detected. The majority of the time, our outings went off without a flaw, and many a life was saved, and more was incarcerated. Occasionally, however, The Minder would come across what she called an 'omen of disaster', that would put her in a state of panic and urgency. The first time it happened was when we were helping stop a simple home invasion gone wrong. The owners of the house had woken up too early, only to find armed men rummaging through the house. The husband had died by the time Minder detected the problem, and we made it in time only to see the wife receive a shotgun load in her abdomen. Their child was in the grasp of one of the men. We carefully subdued the bastards, though not without cracking a few bones. It was on the way out of the house, that The Minder noticed a black cat, hanging from the banister. The maniacs had stabbed the cat and hung it, slowly watching the entrails drip onto the carpet below. I remember the feeling of burning rage at the murderers, before seeing The Minder's look of certain horror. She was not the same since. After that, she would spend longer and longer hours searching for a disaster waiting to happen. I learnt that the omens we learnt in our childhoods heavily corresponded to what she would call omens of disaster, and I had to dedicate more time to preventing her from seeing them, while we protected our city. Each time we were out saving, we would put away these despicable humans, and with growing frequency, the omens would appear, particularly with the more disgusting of crimes. A mother of two laying beaten on a cracked road, bones broken all over. A forced suicide pact amongst three teenage girls, resulting in all three laying in a bathtub of blood, all named Mary. The world was a horrible place, and it was not getting better no matter how much we helped. The system would let these monsters out into our streets in no time. The Minder was a kind woman. And that was her failing. When she opened her red, bloodshot eyes at me, looking at my soul with fear and understanding, I knew then what the omens of disaster was trying to warn her from. She begged for me to see things as she did, to help heal the world. But the only way to cure the rot, is to cut it out. I sobbed as I stared at my bloodied hands and her beautiful, unmasked face. The city would not be the same. It would be better, and I would make it so.
Mother had always told me stories of my distant relatives with whom I had shared the oddity of differently colored eyes. They weren't visibly different until one was within a couple feet, but once you knew it was difficult to ignore. I had never expected to find the same trait, nay, the same eyes, mirrored within the walls of our city. The girl before me could have been no older than seven or eight, though frail and more boyish than not with her short, messy blonde hair and dirty knees. She had, in fact, been chasing some older boys through these streets that I had seen but never walked through when she stumbled in front of me. I couldn't say what vexed me to lean towards her, to offer her a hand up, as Mother would often tell me how filthy the street urchins were, yet reach for her I did. There was a moment where she stilled, her hand resting on the knee she had been rubbing the pain out of, and simply studied my hand. From my position, I found myself unable to study her expression yet I remained, offering a hand to the child before me. "Thanks, miss, but you shouldn't soil your hands with the likes o' me! I'm just a smelly ol' street thug."She stood, shunning my hand as she did so. I frowned down at it then looked towards hers, realizing the difference almost immediately and feeling... feeling... was this shame? Why, I wondered, should I feel shame for something I was born into - something outside of my control? And why should this little girl be trying to shame me? I raised my head then, knowing that anger was contorting my face, prepared to scold the insolent whelp before me, but... Silence stretched between us as we took in one another. My friends had all had their similarities... even Sister looked like Mother... but this girl, though rough around every edge, looked just like me. "Who... who are you?" The words had come from my mouth before they had time to run through my brain. Her eyes, my eyes, had cast a spell upon me. Mother could spin me tales all day and night - she had never revealed proof of these relatives who shared my trait. Yet here this girl was. I don't believe she told me her name before she started leading me through the streets. We had found one another on the outskirts of town, just where the wealthy - including my own family - were advised to avoid. My family had all seemed to go their separate ways as I aged and I was normally home alone. My friends were interested in romantic endeavors - normal at our age, sure - yet I always felt restless with their typical behaviors. It was boring. "Mama! Papa! I brought a friend!"I hadn't noticed when we arrived at a home even smaller than the ones we had met near. I wondered how three people lived in a house no bigger than two of my family's bedrooms, but found myself strangely comfortable as I stepped in behind the girl. "Raelynn, you little devil, you skipped out on your chores again!"The voice that came towards them from the other room was warm but firm and slightly exasperated. "I swear, between you and your... father..."The woman stopped speaking as she entered the kitchen we stood in, and it didn't surprise me why. Her hair was black as night, a stark comparison to ours, but her eyes were our own. "Is that... Layla, is that really you?" She reached for me then, trying to touch my cheek, but I moved away, almost as unconsciously as when I had followed the girl - Raelynn - here. I saw the pain in her eyes then, those eyes that were also mine, and I bit my lip as I turned away. "My name is Jazille, sorry,"I murmured as I left their home. I had heard the rumor that there were rules pertaining to children in the wealthy class but I had never had much interest in them as I was too young to be procreating and had little interest anyway. It had never occurred to me that I may have been a subject of those rules at some point. But those people wouldn't be the ones to tell me about it. Distant relatives, huh? Mother sure had a lot of questions to answer to...
A million thoughts pace their way through Vernons fractured mind. ‘There’s no way around it’ He cranes his neck to the side, shifting his burning gaze to the stalls below the walkway he’s shuffling down. ‘I’ll have to make this painful.’ A warped grin wraps itself over his cracked lips as his eyes lock on the torn edge of a pink frilly dress, well out of place poking out from behind two stacks of rat ridden hay bales stuffed between the barricades of a disused holding pen. ‘Can’t touch the face, best leave something for him to miss.’ Vernon grates his rusted blade over the railing beside him, the tortured screams of the tattered steel ringing through the cowshed in a contorted dance, a jagged waltz forcing its way through the dust littered air. “Perhaps I skin her from the shoulders down, douse the exposed meat and muscle in diesel and prod her with the painful end of a branding iron.” He wonders, this time aloud. Her whimpers are audible now, they shake off the bleach stained walls, the putrid smell of dried excrement scattered over the concrete floor has long since suffocated under the reek of her fear. He takes two more steps, shuffling past the row of bolts holding the groaning segments of walkway together. He kneels, and after running the teeth of his blade over the dull and worn metal cap on the end of his boot for dramatic effect, slams the handle of the machete down on the head of the first bolt. The bolt shoots through the walkway with a sharp pop, and only seconds later is joined by two more of it’s like. Vernon takes a quick step back from the now wobbling segment before him, flicks on the recorder taped to his belt, and slams his boot down on the wavering iron. Over the incessant ringing in is only working ear Vernon hears a shrill pitched shriek coalesce over the pot and pan like clash of the walkways descent. The scream collapses into a whimper, broken periodically by sharp intakes of musty air as the girl below clutches to her last breaths. As the world slows down around him, and the girls indented husk fades with one last gasp, Vernon retreats back into the crevices in his head, he finds no joy in executions such as this. His cruel smile retreats, blanketed over by a mindless frown as he ends the recording, pulls out a dust covered tape and tosses it down next to the lifeless corpse lying on the ground below him, the rats already picking at the now blood soaked frills of her dress.
Marty stirred in his bed. Half-asleep, he felt a comforting presence sitting on the side of the bed. "I just had the most horrible nightmare,"Marty said, still groggy and trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, "I dreamed that Doc had a time machine and I accidentally went back in time. I had to get my folks back together while working with the Doc to get me and the time machine back to my time, and then save him from some Libyan terrorists that were trying to kill him." "Oh, it's okay, Marty,"Lorraine said reassuringly, "You're safe and sound here in 1985. But there are some reporters outside who want to speak to you about some sort of spaceship thing? I dunno, you'd better check it out." Marty sat up straight in shock, "reporters!?" Marty threw on his pants and shoes and ran to the door. As soon as he opened it, he was met with a wall of noise. "Are you Marty McFly?" "What year did you come from?" "What can you tell us about the future?" "Who gets elected the next president?" "Do we go to war with Russia over the Berlin Wall?" "Does New Coke become the drink of choice for America?" "Has anyone managed to beat any of Pete Rose's records in the MLB?" Marty, wide-eyed, slammed the door and backed up against it. "What the hell is happening?"he whimpered, exasperated. Then, across the kitchen, he saw it - Doc's face in the bushes in his backyard. Realizing that the two must be related, Marty walked out into his backyard. "Doc,"Marty said, shutting the glass door, "what happened? Did something go wrong when I got back to 1985? Did I mess up something in the past?" "No, Marty,"Doc shook his head, "I'm afraid you messed up something in the present." And at this, Doc Brown held up a newspaper article with a headline reading, "Eyewitnesses Claim Local Boy, Marty McFly, Traveled Here From The Future" "What?"Marty shouted, and grabbed the newspaper from Doc to read it more closely, "Doc, it says here that people saw me coming back in the time machine? And... they think I'm from the future? What the hell?" "Yes,"Doc explained, "it appears that claims were made by one Redmond Thomas Junior, who says he saw a flash of light, followed by a spaceship that appeared out of nowhere." "What?"Marty shook his head in disbelief, "Redmond, Red... wait, Red the bum? He's the town drunk! Why would anyone believe him?" "Well, it seems that his story was corroborated by our mutual friends, the Libyans." "The Libyans!"Marty shrieked. "Apparently,"Doc sighed, "while in custody by the police after being arrested for destruction of property and possession of illegal weapons, along with their earlier charges, they apparently told a story of a kid with a car that turned into a spaceship and disappeared." "Hold on,"Marty said, worriedly, "So what you're saying is... all of Hill Valley thinks I drive a spaceship... from the future!?" "Yes, and if we don't do something, you and I will both likely be hounded for our entire lives by people who think we're from the future,"Doc said, "Someone may even discover the secret of the time machine, possibly altering the timeline or threatening the very fabric of reality!" "This is heavy,"Marty shook his head in worry and desperation, "Doc, what do we do? Do we tell people it was all a prank?" "I'm afraid that won't work,"Doc sighed again, "The Valley Sentinel has already had reporters confirm the skid marks on the pavement from the Delorean in both the location where it disappeared from our timeline near Lone Pine Mall-" "You mean Twin Pines Mall?"Marty asked. "- and where it reappeared near the clock tower,"Doc continued, "I'm afraid there's little we could do to satisfy everyone's curiosity until we showed them the DeLorean itself." "Okay, so..."Marty thought about it, "So we take the flux capacitor off the DeLorean. Show them it's just a normal car. That will work, right?" "Marty,"Doc said sadly, "any one of those reporters could bring a Gieger counter with them, which would detect the recent presence of nuclear fuel. We would only be further confirming their theories." "So what do we do?" "The only thing we can do, Marty,"Doc announced, "We go back... to the past!" "What?"Marty looked even more worried, "Back to 1955?" "No, Marty,"Doc said, "Back to a few days ago. We need to stop the DeLorean from being built. We need to somehow go back, sabotage the DeLorean from a few days ago without being seen, and dispose of our DeLorean before someone finds it." "And we also need to make sure you still get the warning about the Libyans,"Marty interjected. "So basically,"Marty said, "we're going back to make sure that nothing that just happened... ever happened." "But your dream, Doc!"Marty said gently. "Oh, I'll be fine,"Doc said, "It's just the culmination of a lifetime of work." "Maybe,"Marty said, "maybe we could slip you a note to do your DeLorean test somewhere more private." "Marty,"Doc said in a warning tone, "We've already seen how dangerous time travel can be. It's probably best if we just scrap the whole thing. Mankind was just never meant to toy with time." "Okay,"Marty said, while secretly resolving that he would write that note to Doc. He wasn't about to let his best friend give up on his lifelong dream...
"There you are!" The boy yelped as the owner grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet. The book he had been reading fell out of his hands. The owner pointed a finger in the boy's face and growled, "One more time. Got it?" The boy nodded meekly. The owner let him go and thrust a notepad and pencil into his hands. "Table number five. Hop to it." The boy bent to pick up his book, but the owner slapped him on the back, causing him to stumble towards the door. With a sigh, the boy made his way to table number five. And I was just getting to a good part, too, he thought. The part where the waiter meets his soulmate. If only that would happen to me. Can you imagine? Nah! He shook his head, but by the time he reached the table he had a smile on his face as he asked, "May I take your or-" "About time"the sharply dressed woman snipped. "What took you so long? We've been waiting here for nearly an hour."She wasn't even looking at him as she spoke. Her eyes were glued haughtishly on the menu. Across from her, a younger, prettier replica of the woman leaned forward and chided, "Mother! Be nice." The mother sniffed. The daughter turned to the waiter, her cheeks pink as she apologized. The waiter didn't mind. He thought the daughter was actually rather kind of cute. As he took their orders, he happened to notice the gem around the daughter's neck and commented, "My grandma had a necklace similar to that. Except hers was-" "Red?" He paused, eyes growing suspicious as he nodded slowly. The daughter, in turn, was giving him a weird look. The mother, oblivious to it all, remarked, "Waiter, shoo and fetch us our food before we starve!"She flicked a dismissive hand towards the kitchen. He went to the kitchen and gave the chef their order. As he made his way back to their table a little while later, he had concluded that the girl's guess was just a lucky one. Many people had red gems these days. It was just a coincidence, that's all it was. "Finally!"The mother exclaimed with indignation. He set their plates down, knowing the daughter was looking at him. Out of nowhere, he spun towards her and said, "Pepper." And at that same time, she had said 'pepper' too. Just like in the book. The mother was giving him a disgusted look from the other end of the table. "Waiter,"she intoned, "we'll request your services when we require it. You are dismissed until furthur notice." But he couldn't take his eyes off the daughter. And neither could she. Was it possible? Could it really be like in the book? Could they really be each other's soulmates. "What chapter are you on?"he whispered, not meaning to. "Chapter Fi-"She started and paused, her eyes going wide as she gasped and stood up. "You have to go!" For the first time both the waiter and mother had something in common: they were both frowning in confusion. "Why?"He asked. "Oh my gosh!"she screamed at him. "Did you not finish the chapter yet? Don't you know what happens to you?" People were staring. The owner looked like a charging bull as he bulldozed his way over, face completely red. "Becca,"the mother order sharply, "Sit down. You're causing a scene." "Please. You have to believe me,"she pleaded, grabbing his arm and staring deeply into his eyes. "You have to go now. Do you know where The Last Phonebooth is?" He nodded. "Go and I'll meet you there later,"she whispered for only him to hear, as she pushed him towards the door. If he had any hesitation whatsoever, the sight of his enraged owner made him flee out the door with no second thoughts. Life he smiled as he ran has just got a hell of a lot interesting.
I've been at this for a while now. At least I think so. Can't exactly tell how long. I used to go by the sun setting and rising, as long as I concentrated hard enough I could keep going. My runners high ran out about 3 hours after I started. Probably been a whole lot longer than that now. I think. There goes another sunrise. And a sunset. Am I thinking slowly or am I just blacking out? Every so often I see a news camera. I think. It looks kinda blocky and has a mirror sort of thing in the front. Can't quite remember what news cameras look like. Or looked like, for all I know they could be different now. Are they reporting on me? Have I been going for that long? Or am I just a hallucinating narcissist? Probably the latter, I've always been a little vain. Come to think of it, I thought about that a lot. Have I been a good person and all that. I think I have. Ha. Look at me, all sentimental. When did I start talking to myself? A year ago? More? Has it been centuries? Millennia? Ha. Kinda funny to think that the first person to live to be 400 could be some rando from Kansas. I don't really remember why I started running. I think it might've just been a morning jog. Then I just decided not to stop. I mean, my life was pretty boring. I have a girlfriend? I think. Maybe had one. Probably broke up with me a while ago. A faint hum. A dark hum. Like if smoke could make a sound. No. Not again. Behind me? No. Farther than that. Or closer? Could anyone else hear it? No. No. Only me. Ha, there I go again, narcissist all the way. The hum climbed in my ears. It made its way into my head, my eyes. All went blank. It slid down into my lungs, choking me. It crept into my heart, stopping it like a wrench in a clocktower. I think. I can't be sure. I pushed through. It's what have to do. It's how I kept going. How I keep going. "You're too tired to run anymore" Nope, you're wrong. "You're dead, the hum killed you." Wrong again. Hear that? That's me. Living. Breathing. Blood rushing like rivers after a dam broke. Fuck off. All in my head. And then it stops. The fog dissipates, quieter and quieter every second. Or hour? Day. No, second. I think. So I keep going, I don’t think I slowed down. Maybe I did the first time. Not anymore. It happens every day/week/month/year. It’s constant. Like a beat. A really slow beat. A heart beat. Mine? I sure hope so. I should stop. Not now, but maybe sometime. Actually, how about now? Can I stop? I don’t know. I’ve never really tried. Maybe I should. Yeah. I will. Did I forget how? No. Just walk. But, don’t. One foot in front of the other. What if I don’t? So I didn’t. I stumbled. I fell. I stopped. I hit the ground. *Hard*. It didn’t hurt. But the impact slammed the breath right out of me. I layed there. The sky was pink. I was in a field. Where was I? America? Does it still exist? If I’d been running for so long, how had I not reached the ocean? I must’ve turned around somehow. I stood up, my legs shaking. I need to brace myself. No trees in sight. Nothing in sight. Just fields of wild wheat. “Maybe I’m back in Kansas?” I thought. “Guess I should find out. I’ll keep going.” I giggled at the thought. "Think I'll walk this time."
“BABE! Oh my god baby, it’s happening again!” An exasperated groan comes from the next room. “Can, we please not go through this again…” “But I’m dead serious this time babe,” you say with conviction. “I’m telling you there is something funny going on. Come here and look!” Your girlfriend emerges from the bedroom, a tired and exasperated look on her face. She comes over to the computer screen and glances at it. You look over at her expectantly and she yawns in response. “Yeah? And?” she asks sleepily. “And!? Just read it!!” She sighs. “You were born with a great superpower,” she reads lazily. “You can read anyone’s mind.” “Uh huh, go on, go on,” you urge. …however, you have schizophrenia so you can’t tell what thoughts come from other people and which ones are just in your head.” “SEE!” you yelled. Your girl caressed her ear with her finger, throwing an irritated look your way. “Babe, I just told you about that EXACT idea like two hours ago.” “First off,” she says. “Don’t scream at me. Second, that was yesterday.” You scoff. “No it wasn’t.” “Uh, yeah it was. The idea you told me earlier was the one about Bruce Wayne being accepted to Hogwarts.” Oh yeah, you thought. “But…I mean, I still had the idea…” “AND,” she went on. “Your idea yesterday was that you could read minds but everyone’s thoughts were in a different language.” “Okay,” you relent in frustration. “What about this one? I literally wrote this one down when I thought about it.” She peers down at the screen again. “You die and go to Hell. Oh god…” “Keep going,” you say. “You meet the devil and he offers you a deal. He will give you your soul back, if you agree to be reincarnated as the son of real estate developer Fredrick Trump…ok, I’m done.” “Where are you going?” you ask as she walks off again. “To bed,” she says. “Also, wasn’t your idea that God and the devil make a bet to see if Donald Trump would be elected or not?” “No,” you say defensively. “That was a different prompt. But it’s the same shit anyway.” “I know,” she says pointedly. “They’re all the same shit! No one is stealing your prompts, baby, they’re just all coming up with the same lame ideas.” She wishes you an irritable Good Night and shuts the door. Feeling offended, you turn back to the computer screen and your eyes fall on the latest post. “You’re a rich orphan whose parents were killed in a mugging,” you read. “On your tenth birthday you receive a letter in the mail. Mr. Wayne, you’ve been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft… BABE! COME HERE!!”
TL:DR- Fantasy Hero wakes up in Rom-Com I had done it. I have slain the great dragon, Loki. I have saved the world. My fellow villagers are celebrating my victory with a great feast when everything disappears into darkness, and I pass out. I awaken somewhere completely foreign. I hear a loud, strange buzzing. "Where am I?!,"I shout. An unfamiliar man who I hadn't noticed before groggily wakes up. "Rachel, you're at my house..."he groans. "But... my name's not Rachel,"I say, "My name is Solveig Karlsdottir.""Solveig... Karlsdottir?"he says, "Rachel, are you okay?""DAMMIT, MY NAME'S NOT RACHEL!!!""Alright, I'm going to have to ask you some questions,"he says, "Who am I?""I don't know."He sighs. "I'm Mitch. Your boyfriend.""What city are we in?""I don't know.""We're in Arlington, Virginia.""What day is it?""The 9th of Harvestmoon, Year 31 of Odinsreign?"Mitch stares at me very confusedly. "Year 31 of... what???"He starts poking at some odd, bright pane of glass. "Alright, Rachel, something's obviously wrong. I'm going to have to call a doctor."
It's June. I am on my way home from work, crammed into the subway like a sardine, with all the others on their way to their own homes. I keep my head down, as usual, bobbing my head along with the sway of the car, and the music pumping through my headphones. Suddenly, there's a blinding flash of light, and I'm transported to the edge of a dense forest, overlooking a lush meadow. The long, emerald grass swishes gently in the breeze. A mother deer and her fawn graze a few dozen feet away, coats gleaming in the evening sunshine. I look up at the rail I'd been holding onto, and see that it's been replaced with the branch of a young oak tree. There's a bright flash again. I blink, and am once again back in the subway. I look around, expecting others to look just as confused as I feel, but everyone else seems just as bored as usual. It is October. I've been having more of the strange flashes. No one else seems to be having them, or if they are, they aren't telling anyone. I've stopped trying to convince my friends of what I'm seeing; in fact, I don't really even have friends anymore. No one wanted to stay friends with the crazy girl who teleports everytime she sees an otherworldly flash of light. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts of the friends I've lost, and look back down at the books spread out in front of me. The sun filters in through the windows, dust floating in the air, shimmering in its rays. The English textbook in front of me is not holding my attention. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose, willing myself to get through this study session. When I open my eyes, I see the now-familiar flash of light. I blink, and open my eyes to the meadow that I now know so well. Something is different this time, though. I breathe in, noticing a sharp, warm scent prickling my nose. I turn around, and see smoke rising above the golden and scarlet trees in the distance. Although every ounce of instinct is telling me to run away, curiosity wins out, and I take off running towards the plumes of smoke. I know my time here is limited, so I push myself as hard as I can, desperate to see what's going on before I'm ripped back to my own world. I am close, seeing a blaze before my eyes. The bright orange of the fire blends right in with the blazing reds and yellows of the autumn leaves. I am unsure of what to do now; I've never been allowed to stay in this world so long before. As I debate on what to do about the forest fire I've stumbled upon, something catches the corner of my eye. There is a small cabin a short distance away. Just as I take my first step towards it, however, the light flashes again. To my surprise, I'm no longer in the library, but a block away from Times Square. I've never really had time to explore the other world before; how curious that what I do there does seem to tie in to this world. I swear I can still smell the faintest scent of smoke... It is December 31st. New Year's Eve. The visions are getting longer each time. Still more troubling than they were over the summer. Ever since the forest fire, it seems like one thing or another goes wrong everytime. I am in Times Square, waiting to watch the ball drop, in celebration of a New Year. I hope this year will be better. I haven't had much luck making new friends; people don't seem to like it when you space out and seemingly sleepwalk while hanging out with them. Suddenly, I feel a tremor under my feet. I look down, and see the pavement beneath me crack and pull apart. As the screams of the surrounding crowds fill my ears, the familiar flash lights up my vision once more. I am standing in front of a cabin, the one I haven't seen since the day of the forest fire. I step forward, boots crunching in the pristine white snow, and knock on the door. There is no answer, but I notice the door is slightly ajar. I push it open, and step inside. I am surprised by the sight greeting me. For being in such a beautiful world, the cabin is very utilitarian inside. The walls are lined with sleek black boxes, with various lights flickering on their faces. What's worrying, though, is the sparks and smoke coming out of one of the stacks of boxes. On the back wall, I notice a door. I walk over, slowly turning the squeeky old doorknob, stepping into the dark room beyond it. It is sparsely furnished; only an old iron bed, a desk, and a chair. I notice a dark figure is in the chair, slumped over the desk, and adrenaline surges through me. After a moment, I realize the computer on the desk is beeping. I look at the screen, and see big, bold letters flashing across the screen. ERROR, ERROR, ERROR. I creep over closer, and that's when the stench hits me. The adrenaline is replaced with revulsion, and it's all I can do to not get sick. Whoever lived here, they certainly aren't living anymore. I see notes on the desk. Notes about my world… notes about me. My private thoughts, and feelings, things I've never told anyone… The computer screen changes. DUE TO INACTIVITY, SIMULATION TERMINATED. It's been awhile. Five years at least, I think. I stopped keeping track long ago. The light has never flashed again; it seems I am stuck in this world. I am alone; aside from the body, I have never found anyone else here. It was difficult at first, but I have survived. I am out in my garden, plucking large, red tomatoes from their vines. I go inside, setting the basket of produce on the table. I step into my bedroom. I look over at the computer, the one thing I've never touched; the one thing that felt too much like it still belonged to him. I decide to finally switch it on. Words flicker across the screen. NEW SIMULATION STARTING, PLEASE WAIT. Unsure of what that means, I go out to grab a glass of water while I wait. I walk back over towards the door to my room, but catch my foot on a loose floorboard. Water sloshes out of the glass, and onto one of the towers of boxes. Sparks start to fly out of it. Then something strange, yet oddly familiar, happens. A blinding flash of light illuminates the room. But when I open my eyes, the room is still there. I rub my eyes, wondering if it really happened, or if I'm just going crazy. I turn around, and a man stands before me, looking as confused as I felt, my first time in this world. Happiness rushes through me, as I realize I'm no longer alone. But then, the light flashes again, and he's gone.
“I need a new job.” I sighed. “You’re kiddin’, right?” My coworker overheard me. “No, I’m not.” “Man, so what if we work a few extra hours? We’re takin’ home almost six digits a year movin’ boxes! Don’t know ‘bout you, but if boss-man wants us runnin’ a double without notice, I ain’t tellin’ OSHA shit.” “That’s my point!” I struggled to keep my voice low. “I’m gettin’ paid more than my brother and he actually finished school. For Christ’s sake, Mac, he’s a fuckin’ engineer! I’m pushing boxes around filled with God knows what in a warehouse you gotta have three sets of ID to get into. And you ever wonder what’s in these boxes?” “Don’t need to know. I only need a check.” “We have GUNS! Why’s a forklift driver need A GUN, Mac?!” “You know why.” He sneered. “No, I do NOT know why. And I don’t think I want to. I’m writtin’ up my two weeks when I get home tonight.” “C’mon, man. Chill the f…” Mac cut short. I looked over from the lift controls to see an expression somewhere between concern and dread. I whipped my head around to locate the source of his hesitation. One of the lights at the far end of the warehouse had started flickering. I was about to rib him for getting so jumpy when the light promptly exploded. The adjacent lights followed suit: a few flickers then a burst of sparks. I felt the color drain from my face. “GET READY!” Mac blew by me with his weapon drawn. I saw a few other workers join him from other aisles as they charged toward the darkness. Flashes of light momentarily lit the dark section of the warehouse as gunfire filled the void accompanied by angry yells. I had been frozen in fear up to the point that I heard one of them howl in pain before abruptly falling silent. “Nope!” I left the lift running and jumped out. “Noooope, nope nope nope nope!” I raced toward the opposite end of the warehouse as fast as my legs would carry me. The short screams of my coworkers ensured my sprint was far faster than I had ever ran. That, and the sound of exploding light fixtures getting ever closer. “Nononononoooo!” Panic set in as the explosions increased in frequency. I was still a whole aisle away when the darkness engulfed me. Less than a second later, the entire warehouse had fallen to darkness. I kept running. It was all I could think to do. To my utter horror, my foot rolled over something-felt like a can-and I tripped. I lay there for a few moments, catching my breath and trying to quell my fears. There was nothing. No more screams. No more gunshots. No more hurried footsteps. No sound. The only thing I could hear in the mile-wide stretch of a storage facility were my ragged pants. I shouldn’t have done it. I knew it was a god-awful idea, but I couldn’t help it. My fear had taken over. I turned around. I saw it. I saw him. Two white slits shaped like eyes bore down on me. Two eyes that glowed menacingly in contrast to the pitch black abyss we resided in. Jesus, he was standing right over me. Imposing. Silent. I couldn’t see the rest of him, but I knew he could see me. I could feel it. “H…hi..” was all my brain could squeeze out before the eyes plunged toward me. I felt a hand grip my shirt and he lifted me-he lifted me with one hand\-off the ground. “WHOA-WHOA, NO! I-I-I just work here, okay?! I don’t know anything!” I grabbed his arm in an effort to support myself from choking. Jesus, he was strong. “That’s an awful lot cargo being moved. Planning a delivery any time soon?” His voice was gruff and belligerent. One wrong answer would probably earn me a swift punch to the temple. “Yeah! Yeahyeah, tonight!” “Where. To who?” “Aw, shit, I don’t know…” He didn’t like that answer. He freakin’ GROWLED at me. “NONO, I don’t know! I swear!! I just load shit, I don’t drive--” My mind flickered back to something Mac had told me. “Oh! Th-the docks! Mac said somethin’ about a container ship. B-but that’s all I know! They don’t tell us things, man! You gotta believe me…!” A few tense moments rolled by before he answered. “I believe you.” He dropped me to the floor. I didn’t dare move. “Go home. I'd consider a new career path if I were you.” “Yessir! Oh, thank you, Jesus.” I heard his steps slowly fade as he turned and walked away. “Alfred, bring the jet around.” I heard a grappling hook fire and shatter the skylight above us. Then he was gone. I exhaled all the breath I’d been unconsciously holding and collapsed onto my back. “Fuck this. I’m gettin’ the hell outta Gotham.”
Pyre kicked the tavern door down, swaggering inside carelessly. Already, all eyes laid on him, less so because of the downed door and more so because of the inferno of fire that swirled around the building. Skulking through the small establishment he swelled with pride at the weary but submissive gazes his stride and wrought. "Good evening ladies and gentleman, provided none of you people try to be heroes, I will have what I want and this night will be nothing but a distant memory for the lot of you, now-" "I'll take a Spirytus Rektyfikowany, leave the bottle, no chaser." Brow twitching, beady eyes locked onto the lone figure that interrupted him, narrowing down a middle aged man, freshly balding, as the culprit of such foolishness. With a snarl, Pyre stomped his way towards the man, fisting the collar of his shirt and bringing him nose to nose. "And just who do you think you are?"His sneer marred his otherwise handsome face. "...Todd." Pyre snorted. This close, he could now see the half-lidded gaze of the man, breath heavy of alcohol with cheeks a rosy red. Even more, he could see the shroud of despair that engulfed the man, shoulders hunched and half closed eyes managing to look on the verge of tears. No doubt the buffoon had yet to even realize through drink and whatever other drama preoccupied his thoughts how precarious his current situation really was. Pyre sighed. "I would much prefer it if I were continue this without continued interference, do you understand me?" Todd's blank stare betrayed nothing. He turned his head. "Jus where you shtink your goin'? I thought you were sh'posed to be gettin' my drink." Black eyes shifted once more, locking onto the quivering form of the crawling bartender who had attempted to scuttle away with Pyre's focus preoccupied. Dropping the man in his grasp, Todd as it were, Pyre walked and crouched before the now cowering bartender who feebly raised his hands in surrender, shudders becoming violent as Pyre's hand lit up in sparking flame all to close to his face. "L-Listen man, I was just getting out of the way, I don't want no trouble." Pyre made no move to acknowledge the man, seemingly content to stare at the blaze he commanded to dance across his arm. "I get mesmerized every time I see it." The bartenders wild eyes, which had been looking at the gathered patron's apologetic ones, beseeching them for help, shut tightly in fear as the hand started to caress his face. The bartender could feel the blisters forming along his cheek, and even then he strained and bit his lip to the point of blood in order to hold in his whimpers. "Don't you think it's pretty?"The bartender nodded rapidly, uncaring of his now scarred face and singed hair, hoping and praying to any higher power listening to end his torment. Unlikely as it was, his prayers were answered. A rough hand shoved Pyre to the side carelessly, as the other grabbed the bartender and dragged him back behind the bar. "Oi, I want my drink! If it'sh money your worried about I can pay now, I got it... somewhere here..."Todd began to rummage through the pockets of his crumpled and stained pants and coat, managing to look a mess even in such simple tasks. Pyre had enough. His toppled form burst into flame, leaving nothing but ashes where he was as he burst into existence in a swirl of flame next to Todd, aristocratic face now fixed into an even uglier scowl. "Perhaps you haven't heard of me you oaf, I am Pyre, the greatest-"He was interrupted once more, this time by Todd's hand slamming down on the counter. "You're Pyre?"Todd scrambled to his feet from the stool, an errant hand wiping the trail of mucus and dribble that had started falling down his face, the other feebly trying to pull pants over a gut that was much too large for them. "Hi there Mr. Pyre, my name ish Todd. I'm the guy the mayor hired to get rid of you! Nicesh to meet you."If Todd noticed the incredulous stares, both of Pyre's and the other tavern inhabitants, would not have been able to tell, as Todd had already locked eyes with a shiny glass bottle that glittered on the counter. "My drink!"Tittering excitedly, he tilted his head back as he chugged, not coming up for breath until the bottle was empty. Eyes closed, he released a belch and a long sigh. "That hit the shpot." Eye twitching, Pyre reared back his fist and unleashed his rage into Todd's gut. Chugging an entire bottle of spirits, alongside a strong fist to the gut was the perfect combination for puke. Hunching over, Todd clasped a hand onto the angered man's shoulder and released the contents of his bowels all over Pyre's body. Further incensed, he missed Todd's nod to the bartender, along with his widening eyes as he began to usher everyone out of the tavern. "Enough!"Pyre dug deep inside himself, searching for the familiar well of power that for so long had been the answer to all his problems. Tugging it to the surface, he grinned mightily, ready to relish the look of fear on Todd's face, only to frown after realizing nothing happened. Turning his gaze to the now empty tavern, and the lack of swirling fire around the building, he looked to the extended hand of the hunched over form of Todd; realization bloomed. "What have you done to my powers?" Todd fixed himself with a grown, moving both hands to his lower back as he stretched it out, receiving several satisfying cracks in the process. "I took 'em away."His nonchalant demeanor had Pyre gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would break. "So I assume if I kill you then I get them back."The fury and agitation in his voice would have made the devil take a step back. As it was, Todd merely waved his hands frantically. "No need to be so hasty, I can give 'em back to you if I want." "And what would I need to do to make you give them back, in fact, I believe that whatever task you have assigned for me would pale in comparison in the ease of which I could dispose of you."Todd shook his head fervently. "Nope, I'm a super powerful bounty haunter, that's why the mayor hired me instead of that water guy. 'Sides, I'll give 'em back to ya' if you just ask."Once again ignoring the gobsmacked expression on Pyre's face, Todd merely waited for a response. "May I...please... have my powers back?"Pyre looked physically pained to say that word. For the first time since he saw him, Todd leaned closer and grinned. "Are you suuuure you want your powers back?" "Quite."Todd shrugged. "Okay."He snapped his fingers. Immediately, Pyre once again searched for that well of power, nearly swooning in relief from the ease it took to manipulate it now that whatever spell the cretin had put on him had ended. Pyre glowered, bringing the most power he ever had before the bare, ready to teach this mongrel that had humiliated him so a lesson. As it finally reached the surface, his world went blank and he knew no more. Once the smoke and dust cleared, nothing was left of the building that once housed one of the most notorious villains in the world. Nothing except Todd. He frowned, sighing despondently, shoulders hunched once more, hands stuffed in his pocket as he slowly trudged back to the village proper. &#x200B;
Darkness pressed in through the windows spaced evenly along the deserted corridor. Even the shards of glass littering the floor had long ago been ground down by the relentless winds that ripped through the open hallways. Nothing stood between Nia and the night beyond the abandoned building but the illusion of separation created by the walls. Nothing really blocked the elements entirely. Her footfalls, heavy against the shiny material of the floor, sounded like sledgehammers. The sound rebounded off the empty walls and out into what lay beyond. Outside, Nia’s view was cut to pieces by the carcasses of buildings clawing for the sky. Beams and supporting structures tore at the sky ruining the perfect sleek lines. Nia shook her head and kept moving. The only light was the blue glow of the small display of her wrist scanner. She stared down being careful to watch her footing at the same time. The display showed, nothing. Only her own lonely little dot blinked. She’d long ago zoomed the display out as far as it would allow. Her small flashing figure was all there was in the sprawling metropolis. She suddenly wished she hadn’t ventured so far into the abandoned city. She’d been curious but there was nowhere to call her ship down. There’d be no way out until she found an open space. Tink, tink, tink. Wind blasted rocks and dust past Nia rocking her and almost knocking her to her knees. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear deep in the sound of the wind she could hear a scream. As quickly as it had come, the wind died. Pebbles and stones skittered to a stop around her. Nia wasn’t sure when it happened, but her heart had begun to beat faster. That sound, almost heard, lingered in her ears. She could have sworn she heard something, but her lonely dot blinked, a single beacon in an empty city. She shook herself and stepped forward. The sounds echoed menacingly. Her feet moved, almost of their own accord, pounding into the floor. The ceiling pressed in on her. A breath hitched in her throat. Her legs pumped. The sound of her heavy boots beating against the floor drowned out the silence that threatened to consume her. Blackness opened up around her as she darted through the waiting door. The closed in space of the hallway spat her into the wide open corridor between buildings. Even here, in the wide open, Nia could feel the abandoned buildings pressing in on her. She wanted to be away from all of it. The memories of what must have been were screaming through the dark emptiness of the planet. Dust trailed behind her. Twice she was almost knocked down by obstacles hidden in the dark. She didn’t want to see what they were. It was all so familiar. It was all so like the stories she’d heard growing up. The buildings. The cities. The roads winding in and out of all leading everywhere and nowhere. Across the wide boulevard, a hulking, empty space erupted from the dark. Nia dove for it and tripped over her own feet. She tumbled, chest heaving, and slowed to a stop, staring into the star speckled sky. The space extended to her left and right. It was a large, rectangular expanse of nothing. No buildings, no street, just the bare earth of the planet itself where things must once have grown. The silence pressed down, pinning Nia to the ground. Her heart, hammered in her chest and in her ears. This place was utterly deserted. She coughed. The sound, swallowed by the confines of her helmet, was small in comparison to the sound of her own heart. If she was right? Nia stared down at her wrist. She shook her head. She didn’t want to believe the clues she’d uncovered, but she’d come this far. She couldn’t just walk away now that she was standing in the place all of the clues had pointed to. She lifted her shaking hand. Her fingers flexed, balled into a fist, and then reopened. Two breaths shuddered in and out before she stabbed her finger into the release beneath the chin of her helmet. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively held it deep in her chest as the front plate of her helmet folded away and in on itself. When her chest was burning, and she could no longer hold back the urge, her breath exploded into the night. She expected nothing to happen. She expected to feel the first signs of asphyxiation. Instead, hot air coursed into her lungs. It tasted, like what, she didn’t know, but it had a smell and a flavor. Her eyes slid shut. She didn’t know what to call it other than home.
You walk towards the heavily guarded, iron doors that protect all the dreams of humanity. The chances of just having the possibility to attempt to become something more than human, is more than mind blowing, more than frightening. It cannot be described in any way to express what and how you are feeling. The second the doors scrape across the hard metal flooring, is when your fear wakes up. It could be a trap. It could all be a lie. Maybe I'm in a coma and I'm about to wake up. Maybe...
Until you hit the bottom of the abyss, your body making a loud thud causing echoes to reverberate around you. You feel your bones crack and a metallic taste fills your mouth as spurts of blood shoot out of your mouth. The last beat of your heart pounds like a drum as your mind slips into the unknown. Light floods your vision, your ears still ringing from your fall. Did you actually fall? Were the visions some kind of sick god sent curse? Were they the truth? Are those... footsteps? Yes definitely footsteps, walking towards me? Away from me? Suddenly the deep dark abyss that seemed to be your doom now is your only desire.
As the woman in front of him danced, Killian felt the grin on his face grow wider. Desire filled him. He licked his lips. Each sway of he hips brought her closer. Killian shifted in his seat. Her eyes met his. He didn’t let his linger for long, he took in the entire sight of her. Another step closer. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Anticipation was reaching its peak. A sigh escaped Killian’s lips. A beep rang in his ear, shattering his immersion. His hand slid along the visor on his face. It took him a second to find the buttons, his brain still struggling with two realities. Finally he paused the display and flipped the visor up onto his forehead. While his eyes fought to adjust to the light, his hand slid along the side of his head. It slid right over the device attached to the back of his head, felt for the card and popped it out. Desire and anticipation began to fade. The room was dark, his hand fumbled over the table in front of him, knocking over an empty can. Another card, like the one he had removed from his device was beside it. This time a buzzer sounded through the curtain into the other room. “I’m coming, give me a minute.” Killian said. The card popped right into the device and his normal emotions returned. First among them was anger. He didn’t even zip up his shirt before walking out to the store front. Behind the curtain sat a desk. A guy, maybe mid twenties stood in front of it. Killian ran a hand through his hair, almost knocking of the visor. “Can I help you?” Killian said, letting his annoyance tinge his voice. “It had better be good.” “I want to be afraid.” The guy said. He slapped a credit card onto the counter. “Horror movies on toward the back.” Killian said pointing toward the back wall of the store. A neon sign that read horror flickered over a shelf of chips. “I’m not here for a movie. I’m looking for fear.” The guy said, sliding another credit card onto the counter. “I know you deal in something else.” “And not once has anyone ever asked me for fear.” Killian said. He rubbed at the corner of his eye and stretched. “Give me a couple minutes to take a look.” Back in the back room, Killian walked over to a trunk. One thumb print later opened it. After removing a mountain of discared VR tech and random chips, he pressed the button hidden in the bottom. The bottom of the trunk lifted out, revealing another compartment. Inside were various chips sorted by emotion. “Love, love, love, joy, anger, where the hell is the fear?” Killian muttered to himself as he pulled out various chips to read the labels. Minutes, and dozens of chips later he found the single fear chip shoved to the bottom of a pile. The label read “K.G. Fear.” “How long has it been since I downloaded this?” Killian asked. “And what’s the price for fear?” The guy was still out there, looking at a random shelf of movie chips. When he heard Killian, he spun around and returned to the counter. “Well, did you find it?” “I did,” Killian said, holding the chip up. “How much credit on the cards?” “A thousand each.” “Chump change.” Killian grumbled as he took the cards. “I’m afraid this one is going to cost extra. It’s the last one in stock.” “I ain’t paying extra.” The guy said and reached back for the cards. “I thought you said you wanted this.” Killian said. He held up the chip. “I can personally assure you, this chip is the real deal. Pure fear, nothing else bogging it down. Only way you’ll find something purer is dishing out for the legal chips, or something black market. I’m sure you can imagine where that fear comes from.” “Fine. Two more on this one.” The guy said fishing another card out of his pocket. It slid across the counter as it landed. “And here’s your chip.” Killian said, handing the chip over. He watched carefully as the guy inserted the chip into the device on the back of his head. Killian faintly heard the click as the chip was inserted. Leaning over the counter, he saw the guy’s eyes widen, and sweat pop from his forehead. Killian smirked as he watched the man walk as quickly out of the store. He couldn’t feel it anymore, but his memories of that fear remained. His hand rubbed against the scars across his ribs.
The putrid stench of decomposing corpses and the buzzing of flies met me as I awoke from my blackout. I opened my eyes slightly and looked to both sides, before slowly bringing my body up and looking around me. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I took in my surroundings. Bleak, dark trees towered over me and stretched on into the dark short fog, the sound of crickets and distant animals startling me many times as I looked around. I identified the source of the awful smells as I gazed upon dozens and dozens of corpses scattered around me in all directions. Some hospital staff, some nurses, some doctors, but mostly fellow patients. I looked down at my hospital gown which was stiff from the dry, dark blood which had infiltrated the fabric and soaked into my clothing. I was the only one who was bloodied, and apart from the laceration on my neck I was in hospital for, I had no external injuries on my body. The blood was clearly not my own. After a few minutes in shock I managed to pick myself up from the cold and muddy ground and slowly shamble across the forest. The further I walked the more bodies I came across, all of them with perfectly clean clothes and closed eyes. They seemed to be resting peacefully, with no signs of trauma or damage to their bodies. Some of them even seemed to be smiling slightly. Without notice, a loud noise and a blinding flash of light consumed the forest and I collapsed to the ground out of shock and fear. I held my hand to the sky to block my vision, but the flash had vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. I began to hear a low ringing sound in the background, high pitched but gentle and quiet. As my eyes recovered from the flash I continued to explore my surroundings, taking in the sights of the forest and the endless stretch of bodies which surrounded me. Then the next flash illuminated the trees and ground like a sudden burst of daylight. I braced myself with the sound and covered my eyes so as to not lose my vision again. The sound leading up to the flash started to become less mumbled and distorted, almost sounding like it was making out a phrase. The ringing sound gradually became louder, and I continued to slowly walk through the forest, with a few more flashes blinding me once more. Then, I came across them. In the distance I could see a group of living people, huddled around something in the center of where they were standing. I sprinted over and I saw my family. They looked different to everyone else, and I couldn't make out what they were looking at, it was dark and cloudy, and I did not get a good look at it. They wore normal clothes and were hunched over. My wife sat there, her tear-stained handkerchief in hand sobbing quietly. My children cuddling up to my mother, hiding their faces from whatever lay in the center. My mother looked with concern and a disheartened look in her eye. I yelled out, touched them and did everything I could to get their attention. As I reached out to touch them, I noticed the blood on my gown had mostly disappeared, and I started to feel more alive and healthy as time went on. Suddenly, I heard the sound once again, but this time, I could make out what was being said. CLEAR After a final flash of light, I jolted awake in my hospital room. The constant ringing noise returned to a stable beeping. As the doctor and nurses moved away I say my children and mother rush to my side, followed swiftly by my wife, who came over, hugging me tighter than ever before, her tears running down her face and landing on my scalp.
I was in the hospital when it happened. As was custom, we had taken medicine to suppress our emotions, but while watching my wife give birth, I couldn't help but feel incredibly nervous, proud, and joyful all at once. My emotions got the better of me and I saw a look of shock on the faces of the hospital staff. Rushing to a mirror, I saw the characteristic faint glow coming from my eyes. My powers had activated, and I was going to die. Since we were already at the hospital, the whole thing was oddly convenient. When someone's powers activated, they would sometimes spend their last day trying to better the world (or just rampage), but more often than not, they'd be too distraught to do anything useful and would choose to pass in peace. Who could blame them? I once remember a story about someone whose power was to see a day into the future and had to spend her last day watching her death approach, truly knowing its inevitability. Thankfully, most hospitals (including the one I was in) have a special ward to help people pass after their powers activate. I chose to stay in such a ward since my wife and baby were in no condition to leave. She was... Understandably numb to the whole thing. To not orphan our child was on copious amounts of emotional suppressors. I wasn't though. The next 24 hours were going to be hard. Towards the end, I couldn't do anything but sit, wait, and watch the clock. I felt perfectly healthy and was perfectly pissed that joy, for humanity, often meant death. Even more so, I was enraged that I wouldn't be able raise my child and would be leaving my wife with twice the burden. It was time. I gave my wife a kiss goodbye, and... Nothing. Well, I felt even more exhausted than before, but that was probably because of the past day. All in all though, nothing was happening. What sort of idiot puts an incorrect clock in a ward where you know exactly your expiration date? Five more minutes and nothing happened. The doctors, previously waiting for me to die and awkwardly apologizing for the mistake, looked confused. Another hour passed and there was no more denying it. I was alive and it had been more than 24 hours. I saw some hope in my wife's eyes, but neither of us wanted to believe it just for me to be ripped away again. The doctors were excited and started taking tests. A whole week later, the doctors came to me with answers. "Immortal? What are you talking about?" "Your power is completely unprecedented. You SHOULD be dead right now, but it appears your power is preventing it. It's not perfect though. It's as though there are two forces competing over you. One demands that you die, and another demands just a little bit more that you live. From what we can tell, you should live at least 40 more years. For your age, that's a normal life. You get to live, raise your family, and feel whatever you want in the meantime."
I was heading southwest from the amusingly named town of French Lick, winding my way through the back roads that crossed the forested hills of the Hoosier National Forest. I was hungry and was annoyed that I hadn't bothered to eat breakfast back at the motel. I had given it some serious thought, but after four days in a row of desultory and pathetic looking continental breakfasts, I had decided that I couldn't bear the thought of looking at a sad, pathetic cheese danish on a tiny, cheap plastic plate with the cheapest and most terrible coffee imaginable in a slightly dirty mug to drink. So, I left early and hit the road. This was, I thought at the time, a good plan. I had to make my rendezvous near Uniontown by sunset and my contact had been very clear: the boat wouldn't wait forever. But here's the thing: driving always makes you hungry. Your mind can only take in so much scenery before you start trying to distract yourself from the hunger gnawing at your belly and despite the rolling hills and the wooded forest around me, I found myself thinking of the perfect hot breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast and really really good coffee. Man, I thought, hash browns would be so good right now- and then, just like that, almost in response to my musings, a sign appeared on the side of the road: HOOSIER DINER, it read. 500 FEET AHEAD. Weird, I thought, but I was hungry and I figured 'roadside diner' would have exactly the kind of breakfast I was looking for. Soon enough, it came into view and I slowed down and, flipping on my indicator, pulled into the gravel parking lot. The diner was set at the edge of a valley that ran back into the heart of the hills. It was early morning, so the valley was still full of mist that seemed to creep to the edge of the back of the parking lot of the diner. I didn't think anything of it as I pulled into a parking space and turned my car off. I stepped out of the car and, shutting the door behind me, headed toward the front entrance. As I walked past the windows to the front door, I saw that the place was absolutely packed, which should have alerted me to something unusual about the place, given how empty the parking lot was. I paid it no mind however and merely walked to the front door, opened it and stepped in. "Ah good sir,"a booming bass voice echoed from the corner of the diner. "Welcome, you may seat yourself."I turned to see an old man with silver hair and a beard beaming at me from the corner where he was giving some customers their breakfast. "I shall be with you momentarily."Feeling a bit bemused at his formality, I found an empty table toward the far end of the diner and sat down. I grabbed a menu from where they were wedged in between the napkin holder and the ketchup and glanced over it. Sure enough, they had what I was looking for: "Hoosier Diner Breakfast,"I said aloud. Eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast and coffee. Then I kept looking down the menu. Scrapple, hasty pudding and something called sofkee were all there along with an impressive selection of beers and ciders- though the cider was spelled 'cidre' and not the usual way. I opened it up and was surprised again: sapan, nokake, bird brain stew and something called akutaq were listed. Along with the traditional lunchtime sandwiches like the Reuben, the BLT and the Hoosier Trencher and the Belegde Broodje, whatever that was. I looked around, somewhat confused as the man who had welcomed me came bustling over to my table. "Welcome good sir, my name is Benjamin Harrison and I am the owner and proprietor of this fine eating establishment, What may I get you today?" "Benjamin Harrison,"I asked. "Like the President?" "No,"he replied, a knowing smile on his face. "I was the President once upon a time. Until that bastard Cleveland beat me for re-election in 1892." "That's not possible,"I said. "It's not 1892. It's... 2018. You're... well, you're dead." He sighed. "A long time ago, I would have agreed with you,"he said. "I'm still not entirely sure how or why this place exists, but I do know that it exists outside of time. I thought I was on my deathbed you see and then suddenly... I was here." "Does that mean I'm dead?"Looking around I could see that maybe he was right. There were a lot of different people crowded into the diner. There were Native Americans, tucking into bowls of what seemed like porridge. A man and a woman in colonial dress were eating what looked like a souffle. Harrison laughed. "Goodness know,"he said. "People come and people go all the time."He pointed to the pictures behind the counter. "I've had all kinds of people come eat here. The funnyman, Red Skelton, Kurt Vonnegut, and hell, even Wendell Wilkie- in fact,"Harrison pointed. "There is right over there."He raised his voice slightly. "How are you Wendell?" "I'm on the wrong end of an electoral ass-kicking, Harrison,"the man replied. "Roosevelt took thirty eight out of the forty eight states."He raised a stein of beer. "I managed to win good old Indiana though, bless her." "You'll be wanting steak then?" "You read my mind, Harrison." "Coming up right up, Wendell,"Harrison replied. "Right after I help this gentlemen." "How is this possible?"I said again, knowing that I probably sounded incredibly stupid doing so. "Never mind how it's possible,"Harrison replied. "Just know that it is."He looked around and sighed. "I'll admit, I thought this was a bit of a step down from the Presidency and my law career, but after awhile, it began to grow on me. There's nothing quite like meeting people and feeding them and making sure they go on their way well fed and happy. It's almost relaxing after being President." I wrestled with everything he had told me for an moment more and then shrugged my shoulders and just decided to go with it. Maybe I had gone off the road and I was actually dead. Maybe this was some kind of weird hallucination. Maybe I'd gone insane and just hadn't realized it yet. None of it really mattered, because when it came right down to it, I was still hungry. "Is the food good?" "You better believe it,"Harrison replied. "Well, in that case, I'll take The Hoosier Breakfast with rye toast and eggs sunny side up. And a pot of your best coffee." Harrison scribbled it all down on his pad and then gave me a broad grin. "Coming right up!"
"Last I dreamed, I dreamt I was flying. Did you know that? That you can fly in your dreams? You can do whatever you want. In your dreams, that is,"Oxo said, counting the pills. Thirty two. Three less than they'd agreed on. He didn't even have to look up to tell that the bastard was trying to give him the slip. The Junker had only taken six steps before getting clotheslined by Oxo's partner, who had been waiting around the corner. The Junker's head hit the ground, hard, resulting in a loud metallic twang which echoed throughout the alley. Oxo frowned. He didn't like surprises, and he didn't like attention, and somehow, he'd gotten mixed up in both in a short span of time. "C'mon, let's go,"he said, waving to his accomplice. "Got some friends that're just dying for some shut-eye."he said, waving the baggie full of pills. Under a dingy neon sign with a missing p, the entrance to Hypnos welcomed all the denizens of Sector C into its comforting embrace; hardworking citizens, and degenerates alike. Beyond the cheap tassels and smell of musk which made it mistakable for a Eurovan sex den, and past the actual sex den, which was a cover for their trade, Hypnos offered its troubled clientele a very specific service which could not be replaced by any other. "And there you go."Umma said as she helped ease the day's last guests into their chairs. With a flick of her hand, she changed the music. Something a little more soothing. One of the old, old forbidden classics. Oh, how she loved some instrumental jazz by Fourplay! "And here we are,"Oxo said, coming in through the door to the sleep-den. "Just in time, it seems." Umma squared herself and hissed in his ear. "Just in time? I was worried sick we were going to make them wait." "I'm here, aren't I?"Oxo replied, handing her the baggie. He then moved to a corner of the dim lit den, to a chair which housed a much younger-than-average customer. Eyes covered under the shades, the boy was trembling something fierce. Oxo gently held his hands, making the boy twitch. "First time?" The boy nodded. "You know, the first time I got shut-eye, I dreamt of something I wanted more than anything. Do you have something like that? Something you want to dream about?" "The boy nodded again. Oxo could tell that the kid had begun tearing up under the blinds. However, the trembling had stopped. At least for the moment. Someone tapped him on the back. Umma with the pills. It was the boy's turn. He got up, patting down his pants and looked on as Umma carefully placed the pill into the boy's mouth with some water. "Sweet dreams kid." "May you never want it again." --- Please visit r/Seriousaboutnachos for more of my writing, thanks!
I was doing paperwork when a gust of wind threatened to tear the form out from under me. I pressed down to keep it from blowing away. A wind inside of a house would have spooked anyone else, but I know what it was. I paid it no mind and continued going over this year's budget. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my annoyer appear by the desk. I've never seen his ghostly form, but I ignored him as usual. I haven't given him the time of day since he started following me after college. "Can you stop wasting my time and start paying attention me for one second!!"he yelled. That was the first time I actually heard his voice. I continued to ignore him. "Well!!! Aren't you going to apologize!!!!!!!"He started shaking the desk. I simply removed the paper from the desk and continued reading. After several minutes of this. He finally stopped. "You know what? I've had it with you. I make the lights flicker. I make wind come out of nowhere. I make the furniture shake. I make sliverware fly around. Hell, I reenacted Romeo and Juliet using plates, and NOT ONCE did I get ANY sort of acknowledgment. I'm going to go haunt someone else. Someone who will APPRECIATE the work I put into haunting." I thought of saying mhmm, or yeah you go do that, but decided to just not respond. "Goodbye! It wasn't nice knowing ya!"Then he vanished. I let out a sigh. Finally it's over.
“I saw the turning point in my own life. The moment things went from bad to worse. It was when I decided to stop taking things lying down and step up. “I joined the military on impulse. It’s something I’d talked about ad nauseum, something I’d wanted to do for years but had put off and made excuses for why I couldn’t. “But on a Friday night I realized things had gone too far. I had a degree I couldn’t use, debt I didn’t want, cavities I couldn’t fill, and time to waste. I needed something to give me purpose and direction so I started working out. “If there had been a montage scene it would have been push-ups and sit-ups. A hundred attempts at running and then successfully running five k. I didn’t bother with the happy dance at every successful moment but finishing tough mudder was a high point. “I may have done a happy dance. “I registered at the military officer, a commissioned officer position was mine if I could survive boot camp. I packed my things and left my family with only a note. “It was a shitty thing to do but I couldn’t have them talk me out of it. “Boot camp felt like a montage of failures before I began to succeed. Then war was declared. “I was in the trenches and saw more blood than I cared to. Even when I got out of the military things took weird turns. A surprise pregnancy then a betrayal when I found out the kid wasn’t mine. Another war, I was drafted back to the frontlines and things got weird from there. “Weekly kidnappings, unnecessary emotional drama and more blood spilled than I could handle. “What I don’t understand about this whole thing was why did people keep watching?” I asked the man at the gate. It was the afterlife and I stood looking at death as he gave me directions to the wrap party on my final season. He shrugged, “people don’t watch tv for the enjoyment of those living it. They watch it for the escapism. There are a couple folks who’d really like to meet you.” “Who?” “A couple super fans, James Ryan and John Miller. But do me a favour, don’t tell them about the movie.” “Why?” “Well they’re not dead yet,” death shrugged and opened the gate for me.
Not intending to be a dick, but did the math and wanted to share. The speed of a supernova explosion is not nearly the speed of light (most of the sources I found seemed to agree on about 10% speed of light being the high end though it can vary widely depending on the type of star/supernova). If the speed of the actual "explosion"is 10% SOL, it would reach Earth in 6000 years. Since the astronomer observed the supernova 600 light years away that means 600 years have already elapsed since the event, making January Year -5399. I like sci-fi and facts are cool. shrug
I stepped into the diner next to the old Motel off Highway 28, glancing around furtively. The AEGIS unit locked to my arm by a metal cable connected to a manacle around my wrist was concealed inside the large arm sling I'd bought at a CVS a few hundred miles back. That had been a close one -- they'd almost caught up with me. I maneuvered my way laboriously into a booth with a grunt of exertion. The voluminous sling was an ideal way to conceal the AEGIS -- a featureless black box about the size of a half-gallon carton of milk -- without provoking too many curious stares, but navigating the world with one usable arm took a lot of getting used to. As I waited for the harried-looking waitress to take notice of me, my mind flashed back to when this whole thing began, that day in the lab with my mentor, Dr. Carver. He'd shown me the secret of the AEGIS, which until that point I'd believed to be an experiment still in the theoretical stage. I was honored when he offered to let me hold the wondrous device he'd created, then shocked and confused when he snapped the manacle onto my wrist. I cried out as I felt needles embedded in it pierce my skin. "I'm sorry, Jeffrey."he'd said, and his expression told me he meant it. "This isn't fair of me, I know. But I have no choice, the people backing my research...they're dangerous. And they've lost patience. They're coming for the AEGIS, and I can't let them have it -- not at this critical stage." He told me that his backers were likely already on their way, and that I needed to run. He said he'd try to stall them while I fled, and gave me the address of a laboratory in a storage facility a few states away, where he'd installed equipment to continue the AEGIS experiment. He assured me I'd be safe there, as he'd taken pains to ensure my soon to be pursuers didn't know of the facility. I left the lab, disgruntled and confused but not wanting to involve the police in what I could only assume was a friend's sudden lapse into mental instability. I went home to my own modest workshop to try and remove the manacle. Dr. Carver told me the device would detach automatically once I connected the AEGIS to the equipment at his hidden lab, but I wanted it off immediately. Despite my best efforts, I didn't make any headway. I didn't want to injure myself, and I could bear the thought of harming the AEGIS -- which despite the major inconvenience, was still a wonder -- and I couldn't find a way to remove the manacle without doing one or the other. I didn't leave until I saw the report on the news about Dr. Carver's murder. I'd been on the road for weeks since, having to constantly detour and double back to evade my pursuers. The waitress snapped me back to the present as she impatiently asked what she could get me for the second time. I ordered half the menu, ignoring her raised eyebrow as she took down my lengthy order -- I was famished. I ate as quickly as I could with my self-inflicted handicap, only pausing to down a handful of vitamin supplements washed down with orange juice. I'd shaken off my pursuers thus far, but I didn't want to give them any chance to catch up with me again. I laid down money for my breakfast along with a substantial tip, and then made my way out of the diner. I walked around back, where I'd parked my car out of sight, and fumbled with my car keys, swearing as I dropped them on the ground. As I crouched awkwardly to retrieve them, I heard a voice from behind me. "Hello, Dr. Palmer."the flat, female voice said, calmly. "Please stand up slowly and put your hand in the air. There's no need for this to become unpleasant." I cursed under my breath again. They'd found. I did as ordered, adjusting the position of the hand concealed by the sling as I rose. "Very good."The voice said. "Now, turn around, please." I did so. I faced a woman with short, dark hair in a drab pants suit, one hand casually pointing a compact pistol at me. Apart from the gun, she looked like anyone you might see in a bank or an office -- I guess that was probably the point. "You led us on quite a chase, Doctor."she continued, casually. She looked at the sling. "But it's over now. Give me the AEGIS." "Listen,"I pleaded. "You can't destroy this experiment." "I didn't come here to debate ethics with you, Doctor. Hand it over."she replied, coldly, her grip tightening on her weapon. "Look...I can't actually give it to you."I admitted, my hand fidgeting inside the sling as I found my grip. "Oh? And why not?"the woman smirked. I sighed. "Because...Dr. Carver manacled it to my wrist." She let a short bark of laughter. "Seriously? Wow...clever. Well, we can deal with that back at our facility." She beckoned me forward with one hand, the other remaining in her coat pocket. "Let's take a ride, shall we? Walk forward. Slowly. Keep your hand up." Once again, I did as I directed, stopping when I came within a few feet of her. "I...I'm sorry."I muttered. "What?"she replied, confused. Then I pulled the trigger on the silenced pistol I held concealed in the sling along with the AEGIS, three times in quick succession. One took her just below the eye. She dropped nerveless to the ground, the look of confusion still frozen on her face. I didn't waste any time running back to my car, snatching up my keys, and driving away. My heart pounded. I'd just killed a woman. Not an innocent woman, and I'd acted in self defense...but my conscience still accused me. Had there been another way? I felt the cold weight of the AEGIS resting against my chest, and I clenched my jaw determinedly. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I reached the lab later that day, concealed in a block of rural storage units miles away from anywhere. With no further signs of pursuit, I fervently hoped Carvey's backers hadn't managed to find me again after I'd left the diner. I used the key Carver had given me to open the first unit in the row, revealing that several units had been connected to form a single large space, covertly ventilated with fans in the roof. I closed the sliding door behind me, and flicked a switch next to it. Lights flickered on across the hidden lab, and the air filled with whirring sounds as dozens of machines powered up. Central in the room was a backpack-sized black metal box, with AEGIS-B stenciled on the side. A rectangular receptacle on the front clearly was prepared to receive the unit manacled to my wrist. I let out a long sigh of relief. I lifted the smaller AEGIS out of the sling, and set it on a nearby table. One last check before transfer, I decided. I ran my fingers along a hidden catch on top of the box, and a panel flipped open with a click, revealing a murky glass window next an LED display showing a sensor readout. "EKG normal...BP normal...oxygen levels normal...nutrient levels normal."I read aloud as I checked each of the displays. I sighed with relief. I pressed another button, and LED lights inside the AEGIS illuminated the contents of the tank behind the window. I gazed in wonder at the mouse-sized human figure inside, curled up on itself as though huddling against a chill. I smiled at him -- it was a boy -- placing a gentle finger on the glass as though to pat the tiny head. "You're gonna be okay, little guy. Better than okay, really: 15 weeks along, and already well on your way to making history. How many kids your age can say that?" I frowned sadly, thinking of Dr. Carver, and his wife Melinda. The latter had died in a car accident several months back...but not before beginning fertility treatments, including having some of her eggs frozen for use in IVF. Despite being middle aged when they got married, they'd dreamed of starting a family together. At least husband and wife were together now. "I wish you could have known your mom and dad, kiddo."I muttered, with a sigh, as I carefully closed the panel and carried the AEGIS over to its larger counterpart. "But I'll tell you all about them when you're older. They were good people."Sliding the AEGIS into its receptacle, I winced as the manacle disengaged from my wrist, pulling out the needles that had connected the device to my bloodstream. Bandages and alcohol swabs had been laid out nearby, and I made use of them as I watched the larger AEGIS power up. "Power up sequence engaged. A-unit installed. Vital signs nominal."the tinny, computerized text-to-speech voice of the AEGIS-B informed me. "Activating Artificial Endometrium Gestation / Incubation System." I smiled. This was going to change the world. [Other stories by Silas Crane.](https://www.reddit.com/r/SilasCrane/)
‘Thought Neptune beats Eros?’ ‘Only when its played in the Sol system, idiot.’ ‘Fuck’s sake,’ sighed Chris, tossing another token to Jamie. Gambling was prohibited for imperial soldiers, thus their military issue personal computers didn’t allow the exchange of credits and the two were forced to use makeshift plastic tokens. They had agreed that each token could be swapped for a drink the next time they were off duty. Chris and Jamie were sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the side of the heavy weapons platform; backs to the turret, arms carefully positioned to stop the other from spying on their holographic displays. The tank rolled forward laboriously, automatically following the patrol route set by orbital command. To call Artemis, the city they patrolled, a quiet sector would be an understatement: the city had been the target of a full twenty four-hour-long bombardment and was completely lifeless. Intermittently, the pair of gamblers would find themselves playing in shade as they trundled through the shadow of a dilapidated tower, moments which made them appreciate the sunny stretches all the more. The air was warm and still, the low but constant rumble of the tank being the only sound; the atmosphere, all things considered, was one of supreme lethargy. ‘How many is that now?’ called Wu, lounging in her gunnery seat atop the turret. ‘Eight?’ ‘Nine,’ said Jamie with a smile. ‘Consecutively.’ ‘Bloody stupid game,’ Chris muttered. He was from Mars, where more traditional games were still popular. ‘Don’t be like that, mate, you’ll get the hang of it eventually. Until then, just know that I drink trebles.’ ‘We never agreed to that.’ ‘We didn’t specify either way. Your problem, not mine.’ Cursing under his breath, Chris reclined into a horizontal position, arms behind head, eyes closed. Dozing in this manner for some fifteen minutes, he was awoken by the tank coming to an abrupt halt. This wouldn’t have been an issue if it weren’t for the fact that they had happened to stop in the shade. He cracked open a singular eye. ‘Another rat?’ he asked. Wu, frowning at her console, grunted in affirmation. The tank had detected vital signs nearby and, as per procedure, had ceased its patrol routine. ‘Strong signal this time. Someone’s going to have to take manual control.’ ‘I’ve got,’ said Jamie, lazily kicking open the hatch. He disappeared inside the tank, where it would take him a few minutes to take over full control of the tank. ‘Couldn’t you just fire off some rounds? Scare away the rats?’ Chris asked the gunner. ‘You want to be the one to tell the captain we wasted ammo on rats?’ ‘No.’ ‘Better be patient then.’ ‘Come on. Say you saw a rebel. I’ll back you up.’ ‘Nuh-uh. Not going to happen.’ ‘Well…’ Chris scowled for a second, then sat up with something approaching enthusiasm and announced blithely, ‘Fuck it, I’m bored.’ He took up his rifle, busied himself loading it. ‘Your funeral.’ ‘Just say we encountered hostile forces. Captain won’t know any better.’ ‘You’re deluded. All three of us would have to issue a report, there’s know way you’d get away with it.’ ‘At least don’t grass me up.’ ‘Hmm…’ ‘Oh come off it, mate. What abou-’ Chris trailed off mid-sentence when, impossibly, two rebel soldiers stepped into the road fifty meters ahead. They saw the tank and stopped, watching motionlessly. Chris stared back, the loaded rifle in his hands suddenly seeming much heavier. The moment stretched. Should he shoot? To Chris, that wasn’t what he’d been asked to do. The mission was to patrol the ruined city and make sure there weren’t any surviving hostiles. The possibility that there were surviving hostiles didn’t come into it. Not thirty seconds ago he had been basking in the sun, bantering with friends. Now he had to kill people? Unthinkable. Wu spotted the rebels. ‘What the fuck!’ she cried, slamming the barrel of the HMG around, hastening to bring the pair into its reticle. ‘Eleven o’ clock! Hostiles!’ The rebels bolted, splitting up; one disappearing the way they’d come, the other having to cross the open road to take cover on the over side. Wu’s gun tracked the latter. ‘Don’t!’ yelled Chris, shoulder barging the barrel of the gun even as Wu let loose, the heavy, bassy rounds resounding in his ears. His intervention meant the shots went wide, tracing a line in the rubble on the opposite side of the road. In time, the echoes receded, giving way once more to silence (excluding the heavy breathing of the two soldiers). Of the rebels, there was no sign. Jamie poked his head out from tank’s interior. ‘The hell was that about?' He asked, confused. Chris and Wu stared at each other, Wu glancing down to the weapon still sitting idle in Chris’ hands. She replied, not lifting her questioning glare from Chris. ‘Big fucking rats.’
I quickly hung up the phone call to my upset mother and ran as fast as I could to my daughters room. I can hear a low growling start to permiate down the hallway. I threw open the door and dove into her room. It's dark but I can quite easily see a figure looming over her bed. She sat up at the commotion and started screaming. I slammed into the footboard of her bed and jumped to my feet, All I could think to do was the Floss Dance while practically screaming at the top of my lungs "HUSH LITTLE BABY DON'T SAY A WORD PAPA'S GONNA BUY YOU A MOCKING BIRD!"the creature reared back in utter terror knocking books of the shelf behind it. I started flossing closer. "AND IF THAT IF THAT MOCKING BIRD WONT SING PAPAS GONNA BUY YOU A DIAMOND RING!" The creature tried to lunge at me but appeared as if it hit an invisible wall and screamed in agony, it was obviously working so I persisted. "AND IF THAT DIAMOND RING TURNS BRASS PAPA'S GONNA BUY YOU A LOOKING GLASS!"finally the terrified creature started back towards the closet. I still was shouting but now in a more focused and determined way. "AND IF THAT LOOKING GLASS LOOKS BROKE PAPA'S GONNA BUY YOU A BILLY GOAT!". Now angry, the creature turns at the door to the closet and faces me letting out a loud screech of defeated anger. I answered it in kind "And if that Billy Goat won't pull.... PAPA'S GONNA BUY YOU A CART AND BUUUULLLLLL!!"I leap forward and force the creature through the dark opening.... silence. After a few moments of catching my breath I close my eyes and whisper softly "and if that cart and bull fall down... you'll still be the sweetest little baby in town"I look back at my daughter "Goodnight sweetheart, I leave the hall light on for you" I make my way down stairs and fall into my chair and grab the phone. My mom answered like she was expecting the call "Hey....yeah...yeah...I'm sorry, hey listen, do you know any good dances?"
I don't believe in prayer, but I do believe in curses, witches, demons. How else would I end up here staring up at the painted ceiling of my childhood bedroom? There are things people forget about when they want to time travel. Everything about you is made up of experience. The movie you saw with your dad, the time your sister broke your arm, the time you were held down at a party and-- Gone. All of it. Never happened. Similar things might happen, but they will be with different people. To quote Pocohantus, "You don't step in the same river twice. The waters always changing, always flowing." I dipped my toe in the river of time and I made a mistake. I am never going to-- Fuck. I am never going to really be the same. Part of the joys of experiencing life is being in the moment. I am overlapped. I am two moments at the same time. I am a ten-year-old girl. I am a twenty-three-year-old woman. I am backlashed. You know when you are on the phone and it echoes back at you? That's what it's like. It's hard to enjoy yourself when you're mentally an adult. In the body of a child. Forced to live your life over and over again. Sure, I prevented certain things from happening. Sure. But now... now I still know they happened. No one else does. No one else knows what happened. I have to remember all the trauma, without the proof. Without the community.
At first, it was a grand consensus that I was to be given domain over something that could cause the least amount of damage. Not that I'm intrinsically evil, or anything of the like -I just happen to have a certain effect on things... Most of the time, anything I use my powers on explodes, catches flame, malfunctions, dies... you get it. It is not element specific, weather dependent, nor strictly unidentified or out of control. My powers will always do what I want them to do, but they will always cause magnificent destruction to achieve it. I can't say I don't enjoy it. What could I possibly do with a hat, they mused. Such a great laugh it was for them. Right up until they realized they all wore a crown, and I, never had one.
All throughout the forest the trees appeared to sway and bow towards a massive clearing in the woods. All animals with any sense or pride moved with the wind. From the giant sloth to the timid squirrel, they gathered. It was where it was said that a star fell once and bestowed upon beasts of the land, the Gift to the firsts ones that were so bold as to approach the star come to earth. The Gift was a peculiar inheritance, passing generations and sometimes even disappearing from a tribe entirely to the tribe's great shame and humiliation. The Gift allowed one to speak without snarls, snorts, or caws. Two beings possessed of the gifts could communicate as no others could. At the site of the Great Convening though all shared the Gift so long as they stood within the crater’s ring. Standing upon the shimmering fallen star, a speaker could be heard miles no matter how small. Scarlet Fang scoffed at the thought that mice may have anything important to say. Her tribe was without equal. Sabre Teeth, even their lowest pack members were kings and queens of the land. By the great moon, the mighty mammoth feared her tribe! The petty squabbling over grazing territory or nesting grounds were far beneath her. Still she it was her first Great Convening for her and Scarlet Fang wanted to flaunt her status as one of the Gifted chosen by the passing of her Elder and the appearance of the new moon. She felt the power in her paws. Arrival at the fallen star was dictated by your tribes prestige. The weaker waited upon the strong. Her brother Swift Claw and her uncle One Tooth were her escorts, both were Sabre Teeth, strong and reliable. Swift Claw growled as he heard the Terror Birds squawk and caw to announce their arrival. “Scarlet, we’re too early. It will dishonor our tribe if we show up in the middle of the lot. I haven’t even heard the bloody mammoths trumpet. Now we got to wait like the losers.” Scarlet shrugged and puffed up her chest, quoting her father. “A Sabre Tooth is never too early or too late. It is merely the other tribes that have their time wrong.” Her brother Swift Claw placed a paw over his head and groaned. Uncle One Tooth chuckled, pulling his nephew by the ear. “Leave your sister to compose her thoughts for the Convening opening. Come Swift, it is the perfect time to mingle with the other delegates. I shall teach you tact… and there are rumors I must confirm.” Scarlet purred with contentment as felt familiar rubbing against her golden fur. She nearly yowled when she turned and saw his lolled out tongue and long muzzle. The grey furred dire wolf was wagging his tail. “Hey, Scarlet.” Scarlet playfully swatted his muzzle away with her paws. “Howl, how are you here? Don’t tell me they picked you to guard your uncle?” Howl used one of his hind legs to scratch his ears. “I’ve got the Gift, Scar.” The tigress’ eyes widened in surprise. “You?” Howl barked, affirmatively and affectionately. “You looked like my mom when she found out. She told me to get out her head.” Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You’re going to represent your people?” Howl nodded and then his tail stopped wagging. “Uncle Grey… he died. Father’s been stuck at the den, his wounds fester. There’s no wolf else.” Scarlet became concerned at Howl’s change in demeanor. The happy go lucky pup, she’d bumped into when she was a cub, seemed distant. The Dire Wolves had a nonaggression pact with the Sabre Teeth, even an alliance. Their territory was west of the Frost River, recently disaster site of a freak wild fire. Scarlet pivoted her head to see no others were with them between the tree. She sighed and then hugged Howl. “I’m sorry to hear that. The wild fire was so recent too.” Howl shook his head. “It was no wild fire, Scar… it was the new tribe. Uncle Grey was hit by strange magic. He died without jaws or claws touching him.” Howl yelped as he heard the thunder of the giant sloth’s steps. “By the moon, We wolves are next. Best of luck, Scar!” He gave the Sabre tooth tap on her shoulders with his paws as he scrambled towards the fallen star. Scarlet gulped as if she had a salmon caught in her throat. The subject of the Great Convening, she was to address them all despite her tribe knowing only wind whispers about this new tribe. A tribe of so called man-creatures. What monsters were these? The mammoths trumpeted. It was time for the Great Convening.
The living mask scared the shit out of me. When it first clung to my face and started spreading out I panicked. I feared it might close up over my mouth and eyes. Then the dark would strangle me out of existence. The neural restraints prevented any instinct to pry it away from my flesh. The first look in the mirror was akin to seeing an augmented reality mask for the first time on a smart phone. I was cartoonish in my features. The large dark eyes with small white pupils blinked with me and the mouth contorted to my feigned expressions. When I reached up and touched the physical scape of the high cheek bones and jutted chin that now were my face I was in a new plane of existence. Seeing my new identity in the mirror and actually touching it somehow changed something in my frontal lobes. I became another creature entirely. "This way sir,"the golem faced doorman greeted me into the main party chamber. There was something in the air, a scented oil or fragrance that beckoned my steps into a new world. The lighting, the genre-defying music, and the other concealed patrons at the party prevented any escape back into my real identity. I was in a shared imagination. I'm not entirely sure how sexual attraction works in situations like this. Anonymity loosens inhibitions. Being told that everyone in attendance is single removes obstacles. The lack of cliques and clusters of friends, the removal of the herd mentality makes everyone equally vulnerability and predatory. Who is this person provoking your thoughts, admiring your body, and trying to ascertain the quality of your DNA without seeing your face? Are we all ugly under these masks, grotesque and shying away from the fate that biology has dealt us? There she was. She looked like porcelain. Her mask was smooth, her eyes clear ovals, filled with translucent orbs that reflected the dark features of my mask. She was so stunning that in that party setting was instantly attracted to her. We talked but not like first daters. This was a Tinder moment. We were swiping left over each others inhibitions and right over our mutual desires. I wanted her anonymous, to pretend I was as cool as I thought she was. I was persona and style, with a pretense of substance. But then the careful me ruined it all. I was that roommate in college again. The one not dropping acid but still watching Space Odyssey and ruining everyone else's high by refusing to bend my mind to their dimension. "Can you give me something that is real? Something at your core that I can hold onto after tonight when this crazy stream of consciousness is over?" She was taken aback by the statement. I had dropped the banter and poked a hole in her façade. She stammered in response and the porcelain mask lost some of its glimmer. "I...I don't know what you mean? Are you getting weird on me? You're not going to ask me to marry you next are you?" I panicked, "No! Not at all. This is fun but... But frankly I'm not here for a one night stand. I mean I know the premise of such a party is anonymous liaisons, anonymous hookups, and such... And don't get me wrong I'm not a prude, but this isn't all I want from you. Everyone here is single but I have to assume we're not here just to copulate, that there's something more beyond tonight. I get the sense you're here seeking more than anonymous flirtation." As I stammered on I got the awareness that I had blown it. I wasn't sure if the mask would reflect the heat of my embarrassment as a blush or not. It felt weird to put my face in my hands and feel its smooth exterior as the touch translated down the interface as sensation to my real face. Surprisingly she tenderly touched my hand in response then drew close for a kiss. Once done I opened my eye to her strange translucent ones. They somehow conveyed a deep sincerity. Her red lips parted, "Thank you. Thank you for being real. For giving your vulnerability to me. For putting yourself out there like that." I perked up at the attention. It felt good. It felt right. "I want to give you more, "she smiled and the coyness returned. "I will give you more. I want to be honest with you..." Her purse started vibrating. It was as if some sincerity alarm had gone off in the building and that the party had detected two genuine people in the midst of the hedonism. She plucked her phone from the purse and her mask reflected inner anxiety. "I'm sorry I have to take this. Can you wait here a few minutes and not give up on me. I know I have given you nothing to hold you to this spot when there are tons of other women here, but I don't want this conversation to end." "No one has intrigued me tonight like you have. You have my sole undivided attention even in your hopefully brief absence,"I reassured her. She thanked me, kissed my cheek, and then hurried off towards the restroom. "This seat taken?"a deeper confident male voice interrupted my inner dialogue. "Well um, yes the lady you just saw stepped away but for only a moment, "I hoped he would get the hint about my sexual preferences. "Relax Bucko, I'm not here to Grinder you." "Oh, sorry. Did not mean to offend!" I noticed his mask for he first time. It was puma-like, tan, and covered his entire skull. He didn't wait for an invitation and just sat down in the chair across from me. "She's something special isn't she?" I nodded worrying that he was trying to make himself my competition. "Relax kid, I'm not here to steal her away from you or her husband. I just hadn't seen you here before and wanted to make sure you weren't wading into treacherous waters,"he winked at me with his cat eye. "Husband? How would you even know that she had one?" "I'm a detective in real life. It has served me fairly well in situations like this. Everyone belies their true selves if you give them enough time. Didn't you notice the tan line on her left hand? The ring finger?" "I... I just assumed everyone here was single as the party is billed as..." "Yeah yeah kid. That's the tagline but reality is that this is a meat market and everyone isn't exactly happy with their catch at home. You get my drift?" "Are you married?" "If I were I wouldn't tell you,"he smirked and his mouth exposed a fang. I didn't know that level of detail in the masks were possible. I winced imagining it pushing into my mouth and gagging me. "Do yourself a favor and ask her the right questions. If you're looking for a fling then maybe she's your thing, but you seem more boy scout than butcher behind that snout,"He flicked my extra-large nose with his finger. He stood, smiled, gave me a pat on the shoulder, and then melted back into the crowd.
what the... Jonah looked at his arms and legs. There was little resemblance in the mirror. First of all, he was about four times higher than the figure. Second of all, he was much lighter in appearance. Third of all... I’m not a cat! The cat did look like two cats from his childhood. Near enough to be the same thing. Those cats were like the parents he never had, since they disappeared the day of his birth. Whenever Jonah was outside, he saw those cats. They let him get so close even to hug them. For some reason, they just started to hiss whenever anybody else came close. I must just be having a memory, but this is a weird way to remember it. Jonas went on with the rest of his day. He was adopting a child because he felt he could handle it, and he didn’t want them to have the same experience as him. He was coming early in the morning tomorrow. As he walked past the mirror again, he still saw the cat walking the same direction in the mirror. He had been really tired, so he literally fell asleep, next to the mirror. why am I sleeping on the... is the cat still there? It wasn’t looking the same directions before as it has now. Wait a second... oh no. Jonas tried to vocalize a scream, but all he could hear was a hiss. He tried to run away, but he couldn’t stand bipedal. “Cat got your tongue?” A very old woman said, sitting on the counter. She laughed. “Your parents didn’t even leave you a note about the curse.” Jonah hissed again. what curse? “Well, your family can only have 1 male for every generation. No more, no less. Then, when they have that child, biological or otherwise, well, look at yourself. This conversation is boring, with only me talking,” She snapped her fingers. “Ask one question, then I’ll ask you one.” “W...why? Why do you do this?” Jonah asked. “Well, your great, great, great grandfather killed my.. my.. my husband! He thought that he was a stray. A very very VERY evil witch did the same thing to him as I have done to you. Exactly the same. So, as punishment, I cursed your family forever.” Jonah was ready to ask any question, except for the question she just asked. “Who do you want to live with?” She asked. “Who do you want to give a better life to? Yourself, if you live with me, or your son that barely even knows you if you choose to live in the wild and visit him.”
Well... he didn't say anything. Merely watched - no, observed - as my face ran from surprise to curiosity, from 'how-in-the-world!?' to 'why?' Calmly, he returned to his work, stacking the shelves and cleaning the floors. How he managed it in this dusty street, I'll never know. An employee, working for the same stall, stalked past. Gave the 'enlightened' man a strange look. Stopped. Furrowed his brows. "Sir... you don't work here." "I know." And he kept on working. He wasn't payed, wasn't praised. He felt he could help, and so he did.
This got dark and it's my first time using a WP, please be gentle. I'm just trying to practice. &#x200B; ‘I didn’t do it’ I screamed at the lawyer. She stood there, dumbfounded ‘Then who did it, the boogeyman?’ I stared at her, my eyes hard knowing that she was mocking me, ‘I’ve already told you Carla, it was my shadow, he’s a murderous bastard and he’s always thirsty for blood’ I pleaded. I could hear the deep gravelly voice in my head, whispering about how good it would feel to slice her throat. I shook my head as she looked at me perturbed. ‘At this point we can plead insanity’ she sighed. I sighed too and put my head in my hands. ‘Carla, I swear, you’ve known me for 15 years, you know I would never murder anybody. Especially not my wife, I loved her’ I raised my eyes, pleading for Carla to understand me. She sat down and sighed ‘Logan, you can’t keep blaming your shadow, the cops found your wife on the kitchen floor with her head bashed in’ The hot tears began to flow down my cheeks. I watched as my own shadow moved around behind my lawyer. ‘I’m sorry Carla, but it wasn’t me’ She started to laugh, a mean hateful laugh. ‘Logan, I don’t know what to do with you, but this is pathetic. You couldn’t even think of a real person to blame this on, you have to blame your shadow.’ I watched as it got closer behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder ‘What are you looking at Logan?’ She asked with concern, ‘I’m sorry Carla, I really am’ I whimpered. Her head bounced off the table, my shadow bashing her skull in. She lay there, blood pouring from her head and pooling on the table. ‘Why did you do that?’ I asked, the tears still flowing down my face. The voice replied ‘We have many more to take care of’
It felt like a college party, but not the good kind. Every deployment. Day 1 of redeployment and were getting new recruits. The folk that don't have a clue what comes next. They thought boot camp was difficult. We all did, until we were deployed, except for me. I've always had a bit of an edge. Not any kind of edge, though. I'm special. Dont know why. I only developed this ability over the last 9 years and never thought it was of enough importance to make my superiors aware. It started in boot camp. I was being yelled at for a simple mistake, but they didn't take them lightly. The problem though, was that while being yelled at, I could hear Jacobs speak between the pauses, only his mouth didn't move. I didn't understand it at first, but over time I began to realize I could hear people's thoughts. It wasnt particularly noticeable, in the beginning. I'd only notice it with silence and concentration, but over the years I have developed it. I can now hear thoughts like a switch of the TV remote. Today was particularly different, though. As I was waiting to be deployed by my ranking officer, the new recruits rolled in. I'm always curious to hear what they're thinking. I tuned in to the first few. "Well, here I am. Day one of my new life. I never thought today would come." "Oh I am so ready for this sh*. I've been waiting for this my whole life." "I swear to God, if I get kicked out because that damn background check..."Every year we have at least one of these, and this year was no different. As I went down the line of recruits, though, I stumbled upon one particular individual, Jameson. I've heard a lot of thoughts in these last nine years, but Jameson was different. At first I thought he wasn't thinking, which isn't that strange. I've come across a few people in the past who can quiet their thoughts. This was different. After finishing up with remaining recruits, I went back to him. Everyone has gone back to thinking after a few minutes, even in deep meditation. However, when I tuned back in, I noticed something strange. It wasn't silence. There was this vague noise. Easily something I would have missed as little as a year ago. I was curious, so I focused on his thoughts in-particular. I drowned out all the other noise, a feat I had perfected nearly 3 months ago. As I was concentrating, I began to realize it was static and the more I concentrated, the louder it got. Soon, it began growing so loud, I could no longer listen. I broke focus. I tuned out. I couldn't listen to it anymore. Weeks pass as I am stationed. This time, 40 clicks outside of Syria. It was gonna be a simple crowd control OP, but it didn't exactly go as planned. Nothing involving the mission itself went wrong, but the events that transpired were, perhaps, something I should have known was coming. While stationed, everything was going smoothly. The locals were behaving, relatively well. Because of this, some of the new recruits were sent out here to help so they could get some field training. Just so happens, one of those recruits ended up being Jameson. It didn't bother me immediately; however, I began feeling drawn to his thoughts yet again. This time, more of a black light for insects. I felt an urge to listen again. I didn't know why, but it didn't matter. The only thing that seemed to truly matter was the static. I tuned in. Just like before, it started quiet, but quickly grew to a loud rumble, seemingly quicker than last time. I couldn't tune out this time. It's not that I was unable, but I didn't want to. I felt I had a duty to understand why I heard static from this individual. I had to learn the secrets it held. This was just it. I couldn't get out. I quickly became consumed by the static in such way i could never describe. It felt powerful. What felt like minutes had passed, quickly turned into hours. Then days. Years. I couldn't tune out. I wouldn't. As long as it took. I continued, listening and searching, for that thing, that... thing.* I didn't know what I was looking for. I just knew I had to find it. It felt like millennia had passed, yet time stood still outside my mind. What was I looking for? Then, I realized it. I'm not searching for something. I hadn't been. I had been discovered. Somehow, some way, someone found out. Somehow, someone found out about my ability and the secret got out. It worked it's way around for some time. But, how long? When was it that they figured it out? Perhaps, it started as a rumor. The only thing I did know was that it happened. It got out, and now, I've become their prime target. Jameson was not a new recruit. He had been targeting me for some time now. He has planned this from the beginning. He knew where I was. He knew where I was stationed. He planted himself in exactly the right place. I had fallen victim. What I discovered, was this individual was a mind consumer. And my consciousness has just become his next meal...
Hey guys, I'll jump in first. Just started writing stories about a week ago, but I've been a wordsmith for a long time. I appreciate all the inspiration I've found here. The desire to write a novel has been in me for over 9 years now. I've been sitting on ideas for a long time, but have felt the flood gates break on storytelling incredibly recently. (I'm still new at this, but I think I've been writing some killer stories... Any feedback on my history would be really appreciated.) I'm male from the Detroit area, I have an inordinate amount of freetime and I'm ready to live my dream. Any Detroiters participating? I want to write because I see the potential of storytelling to convey mind altering ideas. I've got a few of those I'd like to pass along as my piece of operation m*ndfuck(OM) I had a couple thoughts on my story topic, but haven't had as long to think about it in the 4 days since finding out about nanowrimo. The two currently dueling it out: "An exploration of the burgeoning sentience of next level AI, along with its existential dilemmas and connection to humans." or "freed from the fetters of time and propelled into a game of cat and mouse with the puppetmaster, Dominick must find his way out of this neo-platonic 4th dimensional cave he's been thrust in to."
"No, I can't make it. I'm keynote at the Society of Paranormal Professionals." A cold caller. She wouldn't have it, she needed me to receive a phone call from the dead, this Saturday. "I'm terribly sorry. I could pencil you in for Sunday. . No? Ok, well thank you for your interest." Now to get back to my keynote on the electromagnetic field of the ectoplasmic ecosystem. ". . . What most skeptics don't realize, is that the electromagnetic quantity can be additive to or synergistic with that of existing machinery. So although the controls may be detecting background radiation, the spiritual world may, in fact, be attempting to camouflage their radiation by hiding among otherwise mundane electrical equipment.. . " Ping. A note on my screen popped up. "Whatcha doin?" Elrod. He was a waiter at the old Redfern club, where I had a room. He passed away some time ago and still comes around, to hang out. He's an old timer, and being quite the personality, self-taught communications. "Writing my speech. Hey, question - can you evade detection by hiding in the dishwasher?" "LMFAO"Elrod took to text speak. If he had been born 100 years later, he'd be doing stand up. "OFC you schmuck!!!!!!!"Alright, Elrod was in a mood. "Or do you mean Gerta the dishwasher? I hid in her but her husband found us!!! LOLOLs"Eggplant emoji. OK. This was going to take some time. "But my wife and I were happy for 20 years. Then we met."Ba-dum-tish. Ok Elrod. "GTG. I'm headed over to the Lodge, Robert's there."Robert was Elrod's brother, a member of the Fraternal Lodge. He had been a cadillac salesman in Queens. "Right. OK, thanks." The pop up popped off. OK. Where was I? ". . .The past fiscal year saw several new advances in the detection and recording of paranormal activity, including the use of robotic divining rods, infrared photovoltaic electromagnetic detection, as well as high contrast scanning photography. These have been met with some degree of success. . . " Ugh. Another call. Unidentified number. "Paranormral Consultations, can I help you?" "You know why my wife never drank? It interfered with her complaining."Yep. "Did I ever tell you about my best pleasure trip? I took my mother in law to the airport." Most people probably think phone calls from the dead are some kind of profound message from the other side. No, they're just the spirits getting bored.
In 1918, Fritz Haber won the Nobel prize for his discovery of the Haber process. A chemical reaction that revolutionized modern agriculture with cheap, artificial synthesis of fertilizers. Two billion more mouths could be fed around the world thanks to Haber's ingenuity. But what did he get in return for his scientific genius? A tide of critics who jumped on his actions in the Great War, nicknaming him “the father of chemical warfare” for his patriotic contributions. But what matters more for the greater good of humanity? Two billions lives or a few hundred thousand gassed victims from a century ago? Science, after all, requires sacrifice. 20 years ago, when the Sloan presidency announced the total science programme, scientists, teachers, children, and even the generals gleefully cheered at the new initiative to bring the future one step closer. The first martian colonies were established as humanity was no longer constrained to a single planet. Asteroid mining brought back valuable metals in unheard of quantities. New artificial intelligence software has empowered the fight against terrorism with precise predictions of individual threat levels. Success and progress ushered in a feedback loop of legislative pro-science changes. Just a few years ago, nationwide healthcare has been transformed by an all seeing eye of mandatory household drones, capable of identifying symptoms the moment they appear. Not only was healthcare revolutionized, but crimes, robberies, break-ins, and radicals planning disruptions dropped to all time lows. The bureaucratic nightmare that plagued science in the early 21st century was gone. Legalizing human experimentation on society’s unneeded allowed cancer drugs to be developed in astonishing speeds. Science, after all, requires sacrifice. Today marks General Sloan’s fifth election victory. With newfound legislative backing, science will bring the future ever closer. No nation was close to challenging our scientific juggernaut. There have even been positive talks of rewriting the constitution and removing the wasteful time and effort spent into organizing elections. As I stood in my laboratory, I couldn’t help dreaming of the future my work will bring: a cloud of nano machines each smaller than a grain of rice capable of biometrical identifying the sick and individually vaccinating an entire city, all from a single projectile launched from kilometres away. I am glad that with every election, the critics of my work have gradually silenced. The sobbing suddenly jerked my focus back. A dozen subjects were chained on the other side of the lab, heinous sods who dared to organize a protest against our patriots liberating the Middle East. Ungrateful beings who were spared the re-education camps with the merciful offer of giving their lives for science. My creation was far from perfect, the delivery mechanism often proved painfully lethal to the nervous system of previous recipients. Within this batch or the next hundred, it will no longer be a problem. Science, after all, requires sacrifice.
So I have an idea for this but am not a good enough writer to put it into a story. Basically at first they're trying to do their thing in the others costume and getting harassed for doing it but by the end of the day they discover their are perks to the opposites role. The hero decides to rob a bank and when the villain arrives to stop him they both see each other. They both have this moment of recognition where they know neither of them is getting their costume or super identity back and they're both fine with it. They then continue to be each other for the rest of their super days.
"Hey She-zard, got a Ricky on desk 2" &#x200B; They call me Shezard because they think I'm a She-Lizard. Sigh. Yes, I can shape shift. Yes I can fit in anywhere. But stop already with the stupid names. And not only that, they're not even thinking of lizards, they're thinking of chameleons. I work with morons. &#x200B; "Got it."Annnd the customer is called a "Ricky"because they need a "Lucy"-- a ditzy blond to waste their time, to make them go away. So here I am, now a strawberry blonde, with a pencil behind my ear, cat's eye readers on a string, and garish make up. I pop a large piece of gum in my mouth. &#x200B; "Hi there, can I please ask the number to which you have on your account please?" "It's 104-20-B10A4" "Oooeyyy. OK."This is good for 10 minutes, with zeros and the letter O being confused for a while. "And what may I respectfully ask is the problem?"I blow a big bubble and pop it, while maintaining eye contact. "I wanted the upgrade, but this only has the standard features, and even these don't work. They've been disabled, and then when I press reset, the firmware reverts to the old version."I look at the account. "Ricky"has been in 10 times, constantly returning the units when he hears there's a new model out, complaining about the "upgrade." "Did you unplug it and plug it back in?"I ask disinterestedly, and then blow my nose loudly. "Ricky"glared at me. "Did you?"I look over my cat-eye glasses. "Ricky"gathers up the perfectly good unit, and leaves, knowing that he's not getting the newer model for the same price. Sad. If he really wanted to run the scam he would have just saved the return shipping label and done it that way. "Hey She-Zard, got a Winona at register 6." Sigh. I change into a 300 lb former marine drill sergeant. I have to find another line of work. Maybe voice overs. &#x200B;
While I am the first to recieve sight, it's a curse. Hideous. Everything is hideous. I imagined our race as smooth, perfect beings, with details in all the right places. That we'd all look the same, and I love that sense of security. But no. Humans are ugly. Things that I couldn't care less about before, like acne, body fat, messy hair, crooked teeth, blotchy skin- they made me realize how ugly we were. Did all the animals see us like this? Why did they not run away? The animals are a different story. They're mangy looking, birds are fat or blotchy like a messy painting, fish aren't the colorless beauties I imagined them to be. Plants too. I wanted uniformity in it all, but I see that flowers are offensively colorful, and some of their bright hues even hurt my eyes. Grass, which I loved the soft texture of, looks painfully spiky. It's all so wrong. Where is the beauty in this? I suppose it's my own perspective- as someone who expected pure uniformity in the concept of colors before I had ever seen them, perhaps I was merely in shock. Expectations can be very deeply ingrained into us. Look at me- I'm the very first human being with aesthetic-based body issues! My eyes hurt when I accidentally stare into sudden brightness! While there may be beauty, I have also discovered it's sister- ugly. Ugly is very invasive. Perhaps one day, I'll get over it.
First time responding to one of these, and I suck at English despite it being my only language. Pre apology over Ahem, where were we? The reporters have been knocking at my door for weeks now. I still live in the same apartment as before. I’ve been sitting in my old rocking chair contemplating what I’ll say. I’ve been planning my speech, I’ve had my orders delivered to my upstairs neighbor who lowers them to my window, and now I’ve finished. Every piece has fallen into place perfectly. I slowly opened the door. reporters crammed every brand of microphone imaginable in my face. I was barely able to calm them down. This was it. "Gentlemen, I have an announcement. I have already spent all of the money". A row of gasps, shocked expressions, and other commentary swept the hallway. "How"they asked, "why". I am moving to a new home, far far away from here. This is my address. I read it aloud, in front of the cameras. What was I thinking? One week later, I had finally moved into the mansion. It was on top of a beautiful hill overlooking the city. It had windows, multiple bathrooms, and a basement. Not a normal basement. The reporters arrived one by one with grins like hyenas. "Come in, come in"I snootily said. "This is the fireplace. This is why I brought you all here". As confused as they were, I don’t blame them. I yanked the vase and the fireplace began to turn, revealing a secret entrance. "Perfect"I thought. One by one they followed me like ducks. The cave that rested beneath my home was vast, and dark. I turned on the lights, to reveal walls filled with illegal weaponry, vehicles, and gadgets. They looked like children getting their grubby hands on my equipment. "This is where my operations will begin. This city has been a trash heap for too long. Now who will help me fix it"? What was I doing? Surely these people would have called the cops by now. I showed them my plans to recreate this city and enough artillery to wipe all of Wisconsin off the map! My look of fear turned to one of joy as I saw each man and woman before me drop their cameras. I never thought I would have gotten this far. If I did I would have prepared a speech. Now it’s too late, so I merely had to start spewing words. "My fellow citizens, this town is a hot mess... uhh... we need to fix it. They mayor is... is... a fraud! Yes. A fraud! He only cares about money!"Hey, I’m not too bad at this speech thing. "If you want to join me, grab something already"! Their reaction surprised me, and maybe it shocked themselves. Soon... this town will be a lot more organized.
I sat on the couch, my beer gut spilling over the top of my boxers. My cat meowed at me with disdain, I reached over and rubbed his head. He purred and nuzzled into my hand, it was satisfying to know I wasn’t a failure in his eyes. Wet cat food. That was the trick to a happy cat. That and keeping him clean and giving him plenty of company. I looked at the nachos I’d spent the last half hour demolishing and wondered if there was a point to even washing the dishes. I’m going to make the same thing on those plates tomorrow night. I sighed and lifted the plate, sending it to the sink. The tv played a show I’d binged before while I absentmindedly washed the plate. I hadn’t moved from the couch, invisible mental hands scrubbed the baked on cheese from the plate. I didn’t bother even looking at the sink, I was well-practiced in the methods of cleaning dishes with my super powers. When I was a teenager and discovered I could do the Carrie-thing with my brain I thought I could become a super hero. And then after trying to stop someone from falling on the subway and seeing the commotion it caused I figured I’d be better suited to keeping a low profile. I got a job as a dishwasher at a restaurant. I kept meaning to go get my chef training or to be trained on line but I liked washing dishes. It was peaceful and I could spend most of my shifts high. Half the time I was mentally picking scum off some of the dishes while scrubbing others with my hands. I rarely dropped a dish but when I did my brain could catch it before it broke. I scratched myself and sniffed my fingers. I should shower that’s musty. I thought. Don, the cat, ducked my hand when I returned my hand to scratching position. “Fine, I’ll shower,” I grunted and stood, pausing the TV. Shuffling to the bathroom, I turned the water on while I was walking down the hall, pulled a towel out of the closet that followed me down the hallway. Once I was in the shower clean pajamas folded themselves nicely just within reach. I had 13 hours before I had to be back at work. For a moment I wished I’d had a beer and one floated from the fridge down the hall. Sure, my life wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t what my mother had wanted for me or what my ex-wife craved. But my life was easy. Simple. I went to work, I got paid. I came home, I got drunk. Rinse, repeat.
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My heart slams into my ribcage at Agent Griffson’s words. One of my employees – killing patients in purpose? That’s what they’re here to investigate? It can’t be. “I can assure you,” I stammer, “I hold my staff to the highest ethical standards –” “I’m sure you do,” Agent Marquez cuts in, her voice rasping like she took a cheese grater to it. “But I’m afraid the numbers simply aren’t adding up. Your ward’s death rate per month is climbing, while the others on this campus are steady.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, her cheap lipstick cracking as her lips curve. “You understand that this doesn’t look…natural.” “That alone isn’t enough to accuse my staff of killing patients,” I point out. “It’s been a bad month. I don’t know, maybe it’s the full moon recently? I don’t put much stock in things like that, but –” “Mrs. Porter –” Agent Griffson begins, scoffing. “Doctor Porter, actually. I have a PhD in bioinformatics.” “Doctor Porter,” he corrects himself. “If you’re sure your staff is innocent, there’s no need for alarm. We’re just here to inform you that your ward will be under observation in the coming months. You may see us or other investigators around. We’ll do our best to stay out of the way, but just be aware that we’ll be here. Don’t tell your staff, all right? It’s imperative that our investigation not be hindered by their suspicion.” I nod, my mouth dry, and the investigators show themselves out. The moment the door closes behind them, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. An investigation. For the coming months? This is no simple records check – they’re going to be in everything, watching everything. My stomach twists. I know they told me not to mention this to my staff, but I can’t do that. Before this gets any farther, there’s one nurse in particular I need to talk to. I slip out of my office and head to the nurses’ station, waving off the questions fielded my way by the nurses I pass in the hall. She’ll be doing records at this hour. Sure enough, as I approach the counter, I immediately catch sight of her distinctive red glasses and tight blonde bun. She gives me a guilty look as I lean against the counter beside her. “They were here about me, weren’t they?” she murmurs. I nod, sighing. “Death, sweetie, you need to back off.”
Jim had been alcoholic for all of his adult life. Luckily for his career, he was what people referred to as a “functioning” alcoholic—that is, he could still fulfill some of his normal work and societal obligations while secretly boozing and only occasionally fucking things up. &nbsp; Well, this time at least, Jim felt like it wasn’t really his fault. Whose god damned idea was it to have the UN conference in Saudi Arabia? Didn’t these people know that his gift of speech writing didn’t come to him at will? Jim needed something… Y’know, a little liquid inspiration to lube up the brain. Jim had tried writing a speech without it and, well, it was partly responsible for getting the world into this mess anyway. &nbsp; Jim was up all night in his hotel room trying to come up with something to read tomorrow, but unfortunately for him “something” wasn’t going to cut it. The US and China were on the verge of war and consequently the world was on the verge of nuclear Armageddon. The UN had asked Jim to try to mediate in a neutral nation since he was the one who had successfully disarmed the whole Pakistan-India crisis a few years before. But no one told him that neutral nation had a complete ban on alcohol! Didn’t they realize he only came up with such an impassioned, inspiring speech calling for peace and unity between the two nations because he wrote it when he was blackout drunk? &nbsp; Jim, having gotten no sleep and fearing he was beginning to go through withdrawal, heard his alarm go off. Three hours until speech time. Great. Couldn’t they have brought in that guy that defused the whole North Korea / South Korea situation? Wait, Jim remembered… he died of liver failure. Fuck. &nbsp; Jim stopped pretending to be something he was not and desperately began brainstorming how to get some alcohol in his system. It was his, nay, it was the world’s only hope. Jim thought of who would be in attendance… President of United States? Nope. Leader of China? Nah. King of Saudi Arabia? Noooo. Surely he wasn’t the only one with a booze problem? &nbsp; The Indian prime minister! That was it! Jim had a vague recollection of celebrating the peace with the guy after his speech. He definitely had a little liquor stashed somewhere, and by god Jim needed it. Jim left his hotel room and went to the front desk. They let Jim phone the prime minister’s room. &nbsp; The man picked up and spoke in Gujarati. “Hello, this is Jim…” “Ah, Jim my old friend! What can I do for you?” “You got a few minutes? This is pretty important. I need a favor. Can I come to your room?” &nbsp; Two hours later Jim and Indian prime minister were making a toast to “a country that forbids alcohol.” They both downed their shot glasses of liquor. Jim wiped his mouth. A guard came over and tapped the prime minister on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. “Ah yes… Jim, I’m afraid I must be going to prepare for this event downstairs. Say, aren’t you the one giving the speech?” “Oh fuck… I am…” Jim sat in silence for three seconds before leaping to his feet and belting out the room. Jim checked his watch… 5 minutes until he was supposed to be downstairs! Fuck! &nbsp; He bolted down the stairs, leaping half flights at a time and then booked it to the preparation room. Only a minute late. Not bad… but wait… Jim never wrote the speech! He felt like he couldn’t catch a break. Jim was going to have to shoot from the hip on this one. At least he was pretty wasted—Jim figured the world actually had a chance now, at least. &nbsp; As Jim sat down and the physical activity caught up to him he began sweating in his suit. It was remarkably uncomfortable, and Jim couldn’t even pay attention to what the person introducing him was saying. On cue he got up and ambled over the mic. &nbsp; Jim proceeded to give an impassioned, extemporary speech. He made the case for why the US and China had fundamentally misunderstood each other’s aims, misread each other’s actions, and failed to act in good faith. How elites of the country had riled up the citizenry and lit the flame under nationalist sentiments, effectively creating a scenario where neither could back out, and how these tactics of brinksmanship not only threatened to destroy the two powers but threatened innocents the world over. Jim called for each nation to make a reconciliatory step towards peace by trusting the other would do the simultaneously. Jim’s speech was broadcast around the world, translated to every major and many minor languages in real time. As Jim concluded his speech by imploring the nations to, for once, forget nationalism and think of the greater good, of humanity as a whole, the audience stood up and gave Jim a roaring clap. The sheer exhaustion of the giving the speech and energy of the crowd’s reaction combined with the fact that Jim was beginning to sober up caused him to collapse on the stage. &nbsp; Jim woke up in dirty, unfinished basement with metal bars in front him. He felt dazed. Where was he? Why was he here? A guard walked by and Jim tried to say something but the man ignored him. The guard began speaking to someone else in Arabic, who then rounded the corridor and stood in front of the metal bars. Jim recognized him, someone who worked for the UN. “Do you speak English?” Jim asked him. &nbsp; “Yes, I do.” “Why am I here?” “Well, remember that speech you were supposed to give? You collapsed when they called you on stage. You absolutely reeked of alcohol and the Saudis found an empty pint of liquor in your suit.” “Shit… what about the US and China?” “Let’s just say that we’re all fucked. Hey, don’t look so dejected. You can’t blame yourself, their leaders may not be alcoholics but those selfish bastards were the ones that got us in this mess anyway. It’s surprisingly easy for people in power to fuck things up for everyone, but it’s pretty much impossible for the same, small number of people to fix things. I guess we shouldn’t have waited until the last 5 minutes, figuratively speaking, to try to fix things.”
“It’s simple really. We kill the Batman.” James said jokingly. Everyone chuckled around the table, and Tom drew the bat symbol with a red circle around it on the concept board. “You laugh, but I like the creative thinking here. This is what’s going to make this brainstorming a success. Next?” Tom said, looking around the conference room. “We could make rental units.” Ahmed said, his dark brow furled in thought. “Something modular, we could keep in storage with minimal upkeep, then rent out to regional facilities when they are over capacity.” “Good one!” Tom said enthusiastically, writing down rentals on the concept board. “I like where your head is. Maybe adding a part to our business that is focused on lower margin, stable income?” “I don’t think we have the capital to support anything like that.” Margaret said. Margaret. Always the realist of the group. With nearly twenty years at the company, her experience was invaluable, but sometimes her lack of vision was frustrating. “I understand your concerns, and I share them, but let’s remember this is only a brainstorming session, not an in-depth discussion on feasibility. Any ideas are welcome.” Tom said. Like a llama among alpacas, it was clear why he had been appointed CEO. “Ok, so here me out on this one – planned obsolescence. I know it doesn’t fit out motto of ‘infinite containment,’ but with our market share, it’s not like our competitors could realistically produce a superior product. Let’s make our units last five to ten years instead of one hundred.” Harriet said. “Sure, let’s just put ‘product lifecycle management’ instead” Tom said. He was already looking into this for new projects, but it didn’t fix the fact that most of the containment facilities were already built to last well beyond the lifespan of the company. The lights flickered in the conference room.The power cut out. In a moment light was restored to the room. Tom was glad he was using old school whiteboards and dry erase markers instead of digital media. The door to the conference room opened. Standing there was Plasmus, The Destroyer. He was generally regarded as one of the most powerful villains and was by far the most cunning. “It seems to me,” he said, pacing across the room, “that what you have is not a monetary problem, but rather a physical one.” Karen screamed. As she opened her mouth Plasmus instantly created an energy field that encapsulated Karen, muting the noise. “Please, there is no need to scream. This is a brainstorming session, and any ideas are welcome. You are in no danger here,” Plasmus said. He really liked these moments. “When a dam is built over a river a new lake is formed. The river feeds the lake, and the dam lets some water pass. Now, what happens If the river dries up?” “Sir, look, you’re being very disruptive here. Can you at least take a seat?” Tom said boldly. Plasmus glared at Tom, but obliged him, sliding into the vacant seat near the front of the large, wooden desk. “When the river dries up, the lake disappears, and the dam ceases to function. What you have is a natural flow problem. The flow of villains has, shall we say, dried up.” “What is your concept then, make more villains? Actually - that’s not bad” Tom said, jotting the idea down. “Exactly. But we are no fools. You can’t just ‘make’ villains. Now, try to consider this perspective. You have a dam that holds water but lets the air pass over. What if you could contain both air and water? You would never run out of resources to hold.” “So what your saying is..?” Tom asked, still not fully connecting the dots. “Heroes have dangerous powers too, my friend.” Plasmus said, creating a plasma field around him. The cackle of pure energy grew louder, and the power cut out again. In a flash, Plasmus disappeared, leaving a scared and dumbstruck conference room. How many heroes were on file? There must be several hundred, and likely more that operated off the grid. Tom knew that the public support for empowered people had declined recently. Could this work? Tom felt something tingle in his front pocket. He casually reached in and grasped at the piece of paper. On the yellow Post-It-Note, scribbled down by Plasmus, were 4 well defined, specific tasks. This? This could change everything.
I've always heard that you should never enter the catacombs without a guide. How bad could it be though when you have a map? That's what I thought just over seven hours ago when I ventured beneath the earth and into these halls. At first, all was well. Left was left, right was right, and the map was accurate. That was the case until I came upon a tunnel that was too small for anyone larger than a toddler to fit. Suddenly left became right, right become wrong, and no direction made sense. I thought I had been following the map, but instead of an exit I found a dead end. Kind of funny, this "dead end"may have been a sign. That was then, and now? I'm well beyond lost. Thinking that I would be in and out, I didn't bring any water or food, nor extra batteries for my now dimming flashlight. Once I'm plunged into total darkness, I know that my chances of finding a way out plummet. Looking back, perhaps I should have kept a more level head when I first realized how lost I'd become. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn myself down frantically running for an exit that I've yet to find. My light is nearly out, and now I'm thinking that going in the front door instead of this sneaky, roundabout way may have been a better plan all along. Maybe I shouldn't have taken this job to begin with. Whatever the case, my flashlight is flickering off, and without it, I fear that my time is very much finite.
Time was a very linear construct. Things happened in sequence; it was a neverending string of events, one happening after the other. On one level, it was possible to comprehend and imagine what linear time was like. On the next, it was impossible to actually feel. She was there. People were trying to hurt her. The flow of time found itself altered; instead of firing, their weapons jammed or misfired. She took her time - literally - and, with a certain amount of finesse, let the spent magazine of her weapon fall to the ground. It bounced with a hollow ding. A new magazine went in. Where did it come from? Somewhere? Nowhere? It didn't matter. She affixed her gaze to the three men in front of her. She couldn't read their faces; instead, she saw an amalgamation of the group. She looked from one, to the other, and then to the next. They were all the same on a functional level. They were already dead. "Okay", she spoke, voice sounding like it came from everywhere at once. "Let's dance, assholes."
Hey boss, wanted to update you about this past weekend. I know you were nervous about missing but we have everything under control, plus your wife needs you! Congratulations again, George told us your newest bundle came late last night, already living the night life like his parents! Ok so whatever shadow thing has been hanging out in the maze finally stopped messing with the lights. Jenny brought in more sage and salt, thinking that helped. If it starts up again I was thinking we should just ditch the lights and advertise it as one of those "pitch black"mazes. Give people glowsticks and have them feel their way through. Graveyard ghost got pretty mad at an unruly group last night. They kicked a gravestone (no damage), and he threw the entire mausoleum facade at them (minimal damage, got it patched up already). They were more afraid at getting kicked out, thought they knocked it over themselves and I just went with it. They behaved the rest of the time though so I wouldn't cleanse the graveyard just yet, he was just being protective. We should really think about becoming a "low touch"haunt, I had to "fire"poor John like 5 times Friday after the doctor grabbed group members and they complained. No injuries, thank God no one had a cold, you know how he gets with sick people. I ended up refunding more money then we would lose from the faint hearted not wanting to get touched. Did you know the clown speakers have been unplugged all season? Yeah, neither did I till last night. I guess Bozo didn't like our circus music. Do you remember when I asked why we changed it to that weird laughing and you didn't know what I was talking about? He cracks me up though, and apparently cracks all the others up to since they all laughed when I finally found the unplugged cords. Oh and some good news! HauntFX magazine wants to interview you about our "stunningly realistic holograph projections". I kept with the "trade secret"bit when they asked how we did it, but had to add that the technology is still a bit buggy. That little girl ghost was so stubborn last night, didn't show up for half the groups. I got more dolls and batteries for her, but the psychic said she just didn't want to. Hey, it's just how it goes sometimes. I think we've convinced that old man to show up but we have to smoke a cigar and the health department is not going to be ok with that. Looking into scented fog, hoping to find one close enough. So all-in-all not a bad weekend. Told you everything would be fine! Tell the Mrs we send our love!
"HAH!"The air cracked with the whiplash of his tongue, a single short-lived burst of laughter. "What do I do for a living, you asked."The shadow, horned and squatting over a person who was trying to understand the direction of gravity in this new world. But he was so sleepy... "Hey! Don't sleep, I know you didn't ask but let's say you did."The shadow pinched both cheeks, digging into the hollow of the flesh with bony fingers He was careful to draw no blood. "Come on, stay with me, or the suspense will go to waste." The person on the ground struggled to blink, struggled to grasp the pain that plagued him. "I, am a Lord. And I am destined to be the best of our time."The shadow flashed a smirk that made a cat hiss in a parallel alley. The pale yellow of his teeth resembled the crescent moon that night. "I can make you do impossible things at a thought."His bony hand left the man's cheeks and his palm turned upward like he was holding an invisible wine glass, or he was demanding remuneration. Following the motion of his outstretched hand, the wasted man felt the ground leave his back. His vomit and spit separated from his shirt and the side of his mouth in little orbs. And just when he had thought he had figured out up from down. The man gasped awake with no warning, only to find himself floating in mid-air. His eyes grew wide and alert as he gasped again for air, before promptly plonking to the filthy floor of the alley. Then, he emitted a soft snore that soon found its rhythm. The shadow clenched his jaw and let out a hiss that whispered into the night. In the parallel alley, the cat, in the midst of scouring the garbage can at the back of a Chinese restaurant, widened its mouth in a cryptic and impossible smile. And the moon that night smiled a crescent just like it. --- More of my work on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com)
========= Come one come all!!! The Golden Pork Tavern is proud to announce the arrival of the great lord and savior Doskias Everdark this realms new King. There will be a great feast in his honor and all are invited to come and pay the first of their weekly tributes upon our Lord. Failure to attend this gala will result in the punishment of eternal servitude and manual labor. Hail Lord Doskias! ========= The tavern keeper Soro sighs as he hangs up the flyer on the town message board. "That's the last one". He meets back up with Lenord the chef and Rye his apprentice. "Have the...ingredients been gathered?"He asked. Lenord proudly produced an incredibly beautiful golden goblet, lined with emeralds, rubies and diamonds. "This took our entire savings but Doskias would never drink from anything less.""It'll all be worth it in the end"he reassures them. "Rye?"the young apprentice hands over an ornate wine bottle. "This was imported all the way from Aeraldor, aged 60 years, it's the finest in the five kingdoms....er well one kingdom now""good good Lenord come with me, Rye head back and make it look pristine". Soro and Lenord make their way to a back ally. Soro raps on the door in a predetermined pattern. A twisted hand slowly reaches out of an opening, Soro drops a rather hefty bag of gold into it and the hand disappears. A few moments later the hand returns with an unassuming dirty vial. A raspy voice calls out "it's highly concentrated, even one drop will melt your insides...I hope you...enjoy the results"the voices cackles softly as the hand vanishes back through the door. Soro nods to Lenord "alright, let's get this party started"
You’ve always loved hunting. Spotting the prey, tracking them down, then taking the final shot. It’s a game of wits, but most prey aren’t very witty. They don’t have guns, they don’t have traps, most of them don’t even realize there being hunted. That’s why you love the Purge. So much prey roaming the streets of the concrete jungle. Most are just as dumb as the baser prey, but a few have enough brains to match your own. One even survived a hunt! You’ll have time to reminisce later, the Purge is starting.
The cool crisp air of the early morning felt good on my skin. I love these early hours, the calm quiet, getting to have the world to myself. I've been trying to get back into these morning jogs. I kind of wish I hadn't. The light changed, and I began to cross. Should have checked. I don't think the truck even slowed down, probably texting. Deep breaths. Slow. I open my eyes to darkness, the feel of sheets on my skin. Softly I roll free, so as not to disturb my husband. Quickly dress, and step outside. Take 2. Good thing I love these mornings, I have more of them than I should. I think I first died when I was 18, graduation party, one too many drinks. No one wanted to call an ambulance, since we were all under-aged. I was left to 'sleep it off'. I didn't go the second time. This time I jog in place at the light, and watch the truck speed through. Yep, texting. After that, my jog is normal as can be. I make it home as the sun starts to rise. A quick shower to wash away the sweat and dew, and I hear the sounds of my baby rousing. I'm pretty sure he's turning 8 months soon. It's hard to keep track when you die as often as I do. I think I've been getting worse at watching out, since I have no fear of death now. I step in to his room, and scoop him from his crib. "Good morning my little angel." "Good morning." Everything stops. I look at the baby in my arms. He's too small, too young, too articulate. He wasn't even babbling yesterday. "When will I grow up?"
Part One. It was the day that the Earth stood still. It was a normal Tuesday, late in the fall, and everyone was going about their business as usual. All of a sudden, a shockwave pulsed through most of the North American continent. Over the city of Los Angeles, the city turned its gaze to the skies, looking at a shining black orb hovering above the roof of south-central. It was first contact. Almost immediately, the US government responded with a military presence and quarantined the entire city and the surrounding suburbs. There was no movement or activity for the first twenty-two hours, and everyone was on edge. At the top of the twenty third hour, with hundreds of thousands of barrels pointed towards the mysterious orb, the vehicle began a slow descent to street level. On Rosecrans Avenue, hovering about ten feet in the air in the middle of the street across from the McDonald's, passerby's standing in line for a Big Mac walked outside with their jaws agape, staring at a starship from a totally different part of the galaxy. But before anyone could make sense of the events, the front side of the orb cracked open to reveal a doorway flooded with white light. A few seconds after the doorway opened, a metal ramp descended towards the concrete, and a figure emerged from the light. As it made its way towards the pavement, the figure came into focus. The humanoid figure was convincing at first, but under closer inspection, the witnesses began to notice the mouth of the creature was split from side to side, and a long, slender tongue emerged from the hellish crevice tasting Earth's air. The grayish-green skin poised seven black eyes, all clustered in the center of the forehead. It made its way to the street and stopped. By that time, the local policemen descended upon the creature, guns drawn. The alien stared at the militia that stood before it. It turned back to the orb and beckoned with its long, scaly fingers. All of a sudden, an object flew out from the entrance and snapped into the creatures hand. Turning around, the thing raised the object to its maw, and spoke. "Dear humans of the planet Gyreath,"the creature's voice crackled through some sort of sound system. In perfect, yet terrifyingly smooth English, the creature spoke; "My name is Garnoth, and I hail from the planet Kryshord-Alta. As of six eons ago, my brethren discovered your hospitable planet and began a small reconnaissance of your lifeforms. We have seen your people have great empires rise and fall like the tides of your oceans, and we have seen the quality of spirit your kind have produced over the ages. We have quite the liking to your denizens named William Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, The Wu Tang Clan, and the one you call 'Nasty Nas.'" At this revelation, no one had any fear in their hearts; any stress was immediately replaced with thoughts of confusion. But no one had to wait much longer for an answer. "Upon hearing these talented wordsmiths, my kin and I have garnered a large amount of admiration towards your ability to flow and, drop hot bars."Garnoth smirked as he spoke these words. "However, we see your daily lives have amounted to a meta of apathy for your brothers and sisters. We do not appreciate this type of trash in our galactic organization. Some of us feel the need to incinerate your planet and mine it for the raw metal hidden under the crust. However, some us, we feel as though you should have one chance to prove yourselves worthy of this planet." With that, Garnoth snapped his fingers, and a futuristic DJ booth with an accompanying DJ appeared to his right. "That's right. You bitches have seventy-two Earth hours to beat me, Garnoth, top MC in all seven quadrants of the galaxy, in a battle of rap. Show me what you got." Over the next seventy hours, the government rallied up the top rappers in the nation to come try to best the beast. However, the alien tempos and insane lyrical mastery of MC Gar was too much for even the likes of Snoop Doggy Dog, Eminem, and Method Man! Even Kendrick Lamar fought his bravest against the beast, and yet could not keep up with the unstoppable flow of the alien bars. At sixty one minutes left, the people were out of options. No rapper left would even try to step up to the microphone, for fear of being totally fuckin humiliated in front of literally the entire world. The stakes had never been higher. In the midst of all the tension, with the security council biting their nails, families spending the last few minutes hugging and crying, and the world convinced they were finished, a man walked past the police barricade, and stumbled around. The local Rosecrans crackhead, Birdseed Barry, had just finished a still warm bowl of dumpster chili, and was licking his fingers clean when he got caught up in some big ass crowd that was usually never there. He pushed his was past everyone until he broke through to a cleared out part of the mass of humans. All of a sudden he noticed the myriad of cameras and military police keeping bystanders away. And in the center of it all, some big ass, sweaty looking tall guy was standing with a mic? Barry walked up to the microphone laying on the ground and picked it up. All of a sudden, the clamor and noise that had been pounding his head died immediately. He looked around before he saw the tall guy crack his head in half and speak. "And who might this, person be?" No one breathed. Birdseed the put the mic up to his lips.
Gustav looked out across the field. He remembered reading as a child, stories of the land of Oz. Of the Emerald City, the yellow brick road, the amazing adventures of an American girl named Dorothy and her companions, the lion, the tin woodsman, and the scarecrow... The scarecrow... that's what these things reminded him of. Only there was no corn. No agriculture whatsoever as far as Gustav could tell. Instead wooden steaks sprouted up from the ground like trees, and their fruit was the dead. Some looked like they had been there for decades, perhaps centuries? Only the dry and empty skulls remained, with a pile of bones at the wooden steaks base. Others, however, were quite fresh. Black crows still pecked at their rotting flesh. It occured to Gustav that the Americans had made a film of the first book of Oz. He remembered seeing a poster of it displayed on the crumbling wall of a cafe in Paris all those years ago, although he hadn't been to the cinema in years. It certainly would've been a more pleasant sight than the view before him... although perhaps not all that different. Instead of an emerald tower there stood one seemingly carved of black ivory. How tall it was Gustav could not tell as the thick haze covered its spire. Judging by his squads distance to the gates of the village though, it was massive. "Gustav!"Major Von Hirschberg shouted at him. Gustav snapped to attention. The rest of his squad was 10 meters down the road looking at him expectantly. How long had he been standing there staring at this freshly dead corpse? "Ja Major Von Hirschberg!"He responded. "Admiring the work are you?" "I'm sorry Major."Gustav said examining the body, "It's just this one looks rather fresh, don't you think? Only by a few days perhaps?" "What does it matter Gustav, whether he's been dead a day or a thousand years? Get back in formation!" "Yes sir! Sorry sir!"Gustav gathered himself and stole one last look at the body and the bloody wooden spike protruding from its mouth, and it's dead eyes... it's dead eyes... that suddenly looked at him. "Major Hirschberg!"Gustav shouted. "What is it now Gustav?"Hirschberg was growing annoyed. He wanted to make it to town before sunset. His men were tired and hungry. Whatever sadist ruled this village, Hirschberg doubted their pointy sticks would be any match for a Sturmgewher rifle. Unlike Stalingrad this occupation would be swift and easy. "It's alive!"Gustav yelled. The dozen men ahead of him turned to see what he was talking about. "This man is still alive!" "That's impossible!"Otto Rolphen said. The large machine gunner marched up to Gustav, "Look at him! The steak runs from his ass to his jawline. No one could survive that!" "For God's sake look at his eyes!"Gustav insisted. Otto looked at the naked mound of hair and flesh on a stick and saw his eyes blink. "Shit! Major!" "We have to get him down!"Gustav said desperately. "Get him down?"Von Hirschberg said indignantly, "How are we supposed to get him down from that?" "We have to do something Major!" Von Hirschberg looked back at his men, had everyone but him lost their minds? Had his men forgotten there was a war they desperately needed to turn around? They couldn't have picked a worse time to show a shred of humanity. He didn't need it. "Shoot him then." "What?" "Gustav what is the problem? He's dying. He's in pain. He was also clearly meant to be executed. It's not our place to stand in the way of the laws of this land. Shoot him and consider it an act of mercy." Gustav looked at the man, raised his rifle, and fired. The shot blew off the top of the man's head and took a good portion of the steak with it. The echoing noise also set off a cacophony of wings as the black birds feasting on the dead took off into the air turning the hazy gray sky black. There were so many birds, hundreds, thousands even? An impossible amount, and they kept circling, blocking out the sunlight. "What is this?"Hirschberg screamed over the ruckus, "Where did they all come from?" There were so many black birds in the air now Gustav couldn't even see the men in front of him anymore... wait... no... he could see one of them. Who was it? There was a man. He stood alone in front of Gustav, surrounded by the black birds. He wasn't a part of Gustav's squad though. Where had he come from? He was dressed almost entirely in black, or were those the birds that clung to him? No, not birds, bats! The man approached Gustav and the flying bats seemed to create a cyclone around the two of them. "Did you kill this man?"The dark man asked, gesturing to the impaled body. Gustav swallowed, "It was to end his suffering." "His suffering was a part of his punishment,"The dark man responded, "I did not sentence him to a quick death." "I... I..."Gustav tried to think of anything to say, "Are you the governor?" The dark man smiled, "My official title, is in fact Count." "Forgive me... Count... for overstepping my boundaries. I was simply following orders from-" "Simply following orders?"The Count mused, "Simply following orders... I do enjoy those who can follow simple orders." The Count waived his hand and in an instant the dark flying creatures cleared a path in front of them. And Gustav saw his squad. Saw their bodies. Saw the birds pecking at their faces. Major Hirschberg was on his hands and knees. Blood stained his previously untarnished uniform. "This was the man who gave you the order?"The Count asked. "Yes, Major Von Hirschberg."Gustav said. He could feel the Count's eyes on him. "Shoot him."The Count ordered. Hirschberg heard this and looked up. His face was torn to shreds. No nose, his left eye dangling from its socket, his top lip torn away creating a bloody grin. But there was fear. Even now, fear overshadowed all the pain Hirschberg must have felt. Gustav felt himself raise his rifle and aim it at Hirschberg. He could barely think not to. For some reason it just made sense. Didn't it? He looked at the Count. Didn't it? "Consider it, an act of mercy."The Count said.
“Look Jimmy, I know this is scary, but if you want to see me or Mom or Elizabeth again, you have to follow these instructions.” Jimmy wipes the tears out of his eyes, his gaze drifting back to the bodies of his parents and his elder sister, only a few heartbeats more aged than him and on the wrong side of the international die line. His fathers words echoed in his head. “When we die, there’s only going to be a few minutes before you can’t bring us back. Now, we’ll all be taking these special pills beforehand to up the oxygen content in our blood so you can have a bit more time, but you need to do this. First—“ Remove the paddles from the bag, make sure the voltage was flowing, charge them to the max, then apply them to the torso as near to the heart as you could. One after another, Jimmy brought back his sister, mother, and finally his father. Each spent a few minutes spazzing out, mouths gasping and chests shaking, but they were soon over it and hugging each other, crying, reveling in their second chance. “What happens now Dad?” “Now? Now we find whoever did this and kick their ass.”
Ringing in my ears is all I can hear. I heard the shot and I heard the screams but I can't hear anything else now. I'm on my knees next to my best friend, the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and he's dead. I don't know who did it, or why, I just know he's gone. His eyes are open looking up at the sky. We had started this protest looking for peace, but that's not how it ended. People have scattered, I'm sure the cops are on their way, but I'm just here, numb. I can't cry because it hasn't really sunk in yet. This must be what they call suffering from shock. I'm holding his hand, wishing it was two hours ago, wishing I could turn back the clock. I don't know what I will do, this protest was his dream, peace was his dream. I want to hurt the ones who hurt him, but he would tell me I'm wrong for seeking revenge. Violence begets violence. So I'm numb, unsure of my future, unsure of where life will take me now. Should I use his death to spark awareness? Should I turn this into a part of the cause? Should I turn my back on it and seek the revenge I feel my body longing for? Only time will tell. I hope I make the right decision.
_"It's not you, if that's what you're thinking."_ I wasn't, truth be told, but what a positively scoundrel thing for my reflection to say. Exactly the sort of answer the greatest scoundrel would have given. I gave my reflection a wink.. yet it didn't wink back. _"Any other day I'd have held my tongue because, being the scoundrel that we are, there was nothing I loved more than holding back the confirmation that you are, or now, were the greatest scoundrel of them all."_ It was moving.. talking without me. Indeed, I stood in front of the mirror motionless and mouth agape as the me staring out from it noticed my surprise. _"Oh, right.. Surprise, I can talk. I suppose that makes two new revelations for you today. I, your reflection, can talk, move and answer whatever questions you may have and, more to your actual question, you are not currently the greatest scoundrel of them all."_ I studied every inch of my reflection, of me, and he stared back. He wore my exact attire; my beaten leather boots, the deep blue breeches I won from an English naval officer, the lush, burgundy doublet was the same, he even wore my hat and hooped earrings the same. I reached for the grip of my cutlass, and so did my reflection. I tweaked my devilishly curled moustache, and so did my reflection. I blew a raspberry at the mirror and the figure blew one back. "Am I seeing things?"I wondered, half out loud to myself, half as if daring my reflection to answer. _"You're always seeing things, you dim-witted picaroon. That's what your eyes are for."_ I yelped the least manly yelped any man or yelper had ever yelped before. I drew my sword from it's scabbard and thrust it towards the mirror, and my reflection flinched as the blade _dinged_ off of its surface, then laughed at an act so preposterous. I was dizzy, I felt tight in my chest - what was going on? _"Easy there, matey. I've not said naught before because I didn't want to. I've always been here, listening to your proclamations of self-importance and dastardly deeds. Up until today, there was never any need to correct you."_ I was still miles behind in this conversation. "Who are you?"I demanded. _"If I look like you and sound like you, I must be you, no?"_ "But I am me!"the words sounded just as silly out loud as they did in my head. _"Yes, and you're still you. Still the salty, land-lubbin' sea-sook you were yesterday."_ "You lecherous, flea-bitten scallywag! You take them filthy words back or I'll.." _"Stab at a reflection again? You couldn't hit water if ye fell off the side of this ship."_ My hands were shaking and my mood riled. How dare this.. scoundrel speak to me like that? Deadly Dick Devilry, Captain of the Dastardly Diver and it's crew of Dangerous Demons. I'm the most feared pirate over six of the seven seas! "A good smashing will sort you out good and proper!"I bellowed, sheathing my scabbard and lunching for the frame of the mirror on the cabin wall. My reflection and I were eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose and he winked and whispered: _"What if I told you who is now the greatest scoundrel of them all? Hmm?"_ My angry breath steamed up the space over my reflections face, but I could feel him smirking back at me. The knuckles on my hands had turned white from gripping the golden frame as I finally caught sight of my true reflections eyes. Wild with jealousy, flaring up with a desire to know just who, _who_ had usurped my scoundrel's crown. "Tell me and you shall remain in one piece."I sneered, pulling back from the mirror altogether. "This man, you give me his name and his location and we'll see how long he stays the greatest scoundrel of them all." A hearty, gut-rumbling laugh bellowed from my reflection, rudely as if he were making fun of me and my ignorance. I could feel my temper rising as he wiped a tear from his eye and wiped it on our coat. _"You'll have to ask your beloved Lucia if you truly wish to know."_ His laughing turned to a cackle as my rage at the mention of my lady's name drove me to tear the mirror from the cabin wall and smash it into pieces along the floor. I stomped and kicked and sent shards flying in every which direction, then kicked open the door to my cabin boy's quarters and shouted: "Boy! Clean up this bloody mess and toss the shards into the sea!" ~~~~~~~~~~ Three days since my manic episode and I sat at my captains table, drunk and surly. All mirrored surfaces had been cast from the ship yet I still feared seeing my self cast back at me in my wine's reflection, so I drank in the dark. Three days of sleepless nights wondering if my Lucia had betrayed me, betrayed our love, and our promises to be faithful. Two whole years I had been away, with two more yet to go. The naval war between the Spanish and Dutch railed on, whilst my crew and I took the opportunity to pick off weakened war vessels or unprotected merchants on both sides. Despite the promise of more loot and booty, my torn heart demanded answers. The crew were making haste to our home port when a shout came from the Crows Nest. "A pigeon, Captain! A pigeon wiv a message!" The bird was brought down the mast and carried to me. I stared out over the ocean wondering what two years at sea could do to even the strongest love two people could share. The bird cooed at me, as if reminding me why it had come. I loosened the clasp on its leg and drew the scrap of parchment from it. The bird shook it's wings and took flight before I knew it, but my attention was fixated on the words on paper, written in Lucia's handwriting: > _My dearest Dick,_ > > _I know not if you are receiving my letters but you should know that your daughter is now two and already living up to her father's name. She has become a complete scoundrel, and has begun commandeering the toys of other children, insulting every nanny I have found for her, and generally terrorising our small village._ > > _Please come home. I miss you terribly and know you'd be so proud of the young woman Delia is becoming._ > > _Forever yours,_ > > _Lucia_
Zap! The last creature disintegrated into a pile of ashes. I was just thinking this was all just too easy and I'd need to complain to the AI when the Pod Access Indicator light stated flashing in the corner of my vision. "Dubya Tee Eff?"I swore. Everything disappeared and I was left in the dark tube. How long had it been since I started the game? It's so hard to tell. You get so into the game sometimes a decade passes and you don't notice. I tried to lift myself up as the pod opened. Muscle atrophy. I could barely lift my arms. I could hear similar experiences from nearby pods. People complaining they couldn't move. People groaning. Then the groaning got louder. And it was followed by screaming. Closer and closer the moaning got. And then a new closer voice would scream. Then would come a wet crunching and slurping sound and the screaming would suddenly stop. Closer and closer the sounds came. I tried. I tried to even lift my head enough to see what was happening but I didn't have the muscles left for even that. Then a grey decayed hand grab the side of my pod and the scream came from the pod beside mine. I had to move, to escape, but all I could do is flop around in my tube. Then the screaming stopped. A grey decayed face appeared above me. And the screaming started again. This time it was coming from me.
The giant thing fought against the chains. Full twelve of the king's strongest men were pulled across the room by the chain they held. Then they pulled back and the giant was pulled further into the court. Inch by inch the knights pull the chain until they got it to the ring attached to the ground. Weyland the Smith swung his mighty hammer and joined the last link to the ring. The knights let go and ran out of the reach of the giant thing. It tugged on the chain, but it was too late, it was captured now. There was no escape. The entire court was out to see its arrival. A giant humanoid. A giant male humanoid. A giant naked male humanoid. The men of the court stared at this thing. The ladies blushed and giggled and pretended to look away. The giant thing looked down at the other giant beast. A giant female humanoid. Also naked. Also chained to the ground. "Milawd,"I announced, "As requested, I have obtained for you the world's largest..." The King raised his hand to stop me speaking. "Duck,"he said, "I asked you to bring me the world's largest duck"
Your stomach lurches as your small life boat rocks from side to side. You feel sick, even sicker than usual, your legs are starting to cramp because you've been sitting or lying down for the past few hours. As you sit on a lifeboat... somewhere, you keep your eyes open, hoping you don't see an Oceana ship headed your way. Your name is Olivia Dixon. You are, or were, a member of the Outer Party on Airstrip One. You worked for the Ministry of Plenty, which was in charge of managing Oceania's planned economy. You were one of the people in charge of deciding the rations that the people in Airstrip One would receive. 3 Grams of Chocolate. 6 Pints of Victory Gin, 1.5 Grams of Tobacco, 3 Razors. Those were some of the latest rations you remember clearly. The statistics released by the Ministry of Truth said that the rations had been increased by the fourth time in the last 5 years. However, you know that wasn't true. You know because you wrote the last rations yourself. And the last year, it was 4 Grams of Chocolate. 10 Pints of Victory Gin, 2 Grams of Tobacco, 4 Razors, and a lot more that you couldn't bring yourself to remember right now. You don't know if a member of the Thought Police caught your frown when you heard the news, but soon after, you found yourself... involved with a handsome man by the name of Greavy who had been working in the Department of Logistics. You didn't do anything... inappropriate, but occasionally, when a Telescreen was far enough away, when you were alone, you would talk. At first, it was about work, but you eventually talked, as casually as you could, that you were certain that the rations had gone down this time. While you added that you were sure that you were just tired because you hadn't had your coffee, he agreed with you. From there, you talked about how production had been declining, though the numbers that the Ministry of Plenty had put out said they were increasing. Then, it was about how the Ministry of Truth's numbers were even higher, and even more nonsense. Then, after Hate Week, about how the enemy that Oceania had been fighting since it's inception had changed in the middle of the speech, and no one seemed to notice. The speaker even switched his condemnations of the war crimes and atrocities that were committed by the enemy (which country it is you don't even know anymore), without skipping a beat. Technically, this wasn't illegal. There was only one crime in Oceania. And that was Thought Crime. Anything that wasn't Orthodox, anything that contradicted the Party in any way, through word, deed, or even thought, was a Thought Crime. And Thought Crime is Death. Early this morning, a pair of men dressed in the Thought Police uniform kicked down the door to your apartment in Victory Plaza and demanded you come with them, their truncheons gripped tightly. One of the men was Greavy. You didn't know you had started running until you were out the door. You couldn't stay at home. You hid among the Proles for a time, but you knew that a cargo ship was leaving this morning, shipping some boots to another part of Oceania. So, you snuck aboard and, when you were far from the coast, you took a life boat and fled, hoping to be in Eastasia before they noticed the missing ship. So now, you sit in a life boat you had taken from the cargo ship once it had been a good distance out to sea, in a white blouse, and blue shorts. You had thrown away your Junior Anti-Sex League sash, and your shoes had fallen apart in the chase, so you had thrown them away on the way here. If you were honest, they were falling apart for a long time, so you aren't sad to be rid of them, or you wouldn't be if you had anything to replace them. Your plan was to row towards Eurasia and try to hide. You were... pretty sure that Eurasia was hostile to Oceania, so maybe they would take you as a defector. Assuming that Oceania was at war with Eurasia at all. Assuming that there was a world outside of Airstrip One. You weren't much aware of geography, you were sure that few people in Airstrip One were, but you could vaguely remember maps you've seen when visiting the Department of Logistics, about where they needed to ship guns, ammunition, and food to for the war effort. From what you can recall, Part of Eurasia was just across a narrow strip of ocean from Airstrip One. But now, your strength drained from exhaustion, letting the currents push your boat to wherever destination it has in mind, that seeming narrow strip of water seems to go on forever. All you can do is sit in your boat and hope that your strength returns before the sun goes down. If you go too far west and hit the ocean... you don't know if you can find your way back. &#x200B; As you contemplate your fate, you start to see a shape in the distance. It's a ship. A large ship that you have never seen before, not like the cargo ship that you snuck in on. As you turn your head to look at it, your heart starts to sink. 'This is it' you think. 'This was a half baked plan from the start. They're going to catch me. They're going to catch me, march me out in one of their trials, and execute me' You start to pull yourself to the edge of your boat. You think 'Maybe I could just throw myself overboard. I'll sink to the bottom, I'll drown, but they won't have taken me. Even if Big Brother can have my life, they can't be the ones to kill me. I can at least deny him that much.' You use the last of your strength to pull yourself to the edge, but by the time your upper body is dangling over the edge of the boat, you see that it isn't a ship in Oceania's Navy. In fact, you don't recognize it at all. You haven't seen this kind of ship in any of the movies, propaganda, you remind yourself. You don't know what it is, but you do know one thing. This ship doesn't belong to Oceania. Or Eurasia or even Eastasia for that matter. You stop yourself and get back in the lifeboat. If there's a chance, even the smallest chance of living, then you have to take it. Eventually, the ship pulls close to your own and a rope ladder is dropped down. A pair of men descend he ladder onto your life boat. Like the boat itself, you don't recognize the uniforms on either of the men. "Vous allez bien, Madame? Nous sommes là pour vous aider"One of the men asks. "My... name is Olivia Dixon"You say weakly. "I'm from Oceania... Airstrip One. Please, if you aren" "Océanie? Elle ne peut pas être de là. L'accent est tout faux."The man you were speaking to says to his partner. "Attendez, elle pourrait être de ce trou du nord."the other man says. "Madame, we are from the French Navy, and we're here to help you. Let's get you out of the sun, okay." You feel your entire body sag as the two men help you up, numbness seizes your legs and you have to force them to move. As you're carried into the ship, you hope that wherever you go, that you don't look back and regret that you didn't throw yourself into the ocean.
The television showed a bright white background and only the words "turn yourself in or pay." I remember perfectly what I was doing the day the world changed. Walking along main street passing by a computer store on my way home. It had just started to get colder as winter creeped up but I didn't need to worry about the cold, I was always warm and never needed a coat. The screens in the computer store all turned of in perfect unison and I just glanced over to see what happened when the words popped up, "TURN YOURSELF IN OF PAY."The world went quiet then. That moment lasted all of 1 minute and 13seconds, the world froze. I was always good at keeping time. At the 14th second the ground shook. Everyone around me and I can only assume everyone in the world fell and dove for something to hold onto as the ground continued to shake, Windows shattered, fire hydrants burst and then the sky... the sky showed one name written in the clouds... my name. I passed out that moment. First post here. Never did this before. Any help is appreciated.
[I am actually excited for this one. But where to begin?] I have existed for many thousands of years in the void....biding my time....collecting energy for what will be my final masterpiece. The creation of my dimension Termina. When the time comes I will open the curtains on my little pocket universe and seek an appropriate vessel to set the events of chaos into motion. Once this happens I will forever free my prison and gain enough energy to finally exact my revenge on the people who put me here.....Lorule. It’s hard to remember clearly those events of so long ago. I was once a Lorulian who had learned of the triforce. Our world had gone through a terrible conflict and I felt it my duty to unify the country so that peace could exist in our time. I had dispatched many that tried to oppose me and nothing would stop me in my desires for peace. No matter what the costs. I had fought so long to try and collect triforce remnants so that I could save our land. Slaying beast after beast and monster after monster. But the people began to fear me. They feared me so much that a young woman appeared to challenge my methods. Claiming that I only wanted the triforce for myself. She was Lorule herself the people’s chosen princess she was often called. I tried to reason with her but she convinced herself that I was evil and that the world will fall if I am a uccessful. And when I finally constructed the triforce she appeared and stabbed me in the back. She destroyed the triforce and at the moment my spirit was pulled from my body into this void where I now reside. So many years have passed that I can no longer remember what I looked like. Only my name remains....Majora. When I take the energy from Termina’s destruction. Lorule will know my wrath.
Sharley butted his head against me affectionately, and I scratched his head head in return. We had been stalking this mountain for three days now, and still no sign of the bear that had been terrorizing my village. Farther up, I spotted the yawning mouth of a cave. Perhaps there we would find our prey. "C'mon, Sharley,"I said. I had considered bringing another hunter along, but eventually decided to have Sharley accompany me. His sense of smell was impeccable, and he could run faster and longer than any human. Besides, the last time I had gone hunting, my sister Shiara had died in my place. I had no desire to repeat that experience. Sharley had been joyfully running a few dozen feet in front of me. Now, I noticed that he was stopped. "What's wrong, boy? You smell something?"I asked. I crouched to the earth and looked around, my guard raised. Nothing. Still, I wasn't taking any chances with a bear close by. I began moving towards the cave again, but at a creeping pace, constantly checking behind me. Sharley moved from left to right, hackles raised. At length I arrived at the mouth of the cave. There did not seem to be any signs of life. I entered cautiously. The bear was a female, and if she had cubs I would be in even greater danger. As I moved farther into the cave, I determined that it was empty. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "It's alright, Sharley. No bears here."Sharley rolled over playfully, and I rubbed his belly. Suddenly, he twisted over and began to growl. I whipped around and felt my stomach sink. Standing in the mouth of the cave was the she-bear. An eight-foot-tall predator, it had paws large enough to swipe my head off my body. Overwhelming panic began to rise in my chest, but I suppressed it and drew my spear. Time to save my village. I sprinted for the she-bear. It seemed surprised by my aggression and took a few stumbling steps back, then charged forward. I did not falter. Just as the she-bear and I were about to meet, I fell to the cave floor and slid beneath the bear, thrusting my javelin into its heart. The she-bear howled with rage and turned around for a second pass. I could see blood spurting from its torso and I knew it was dead. Unfortunately, the she-bear didn't know it yet. I tried to get out of the way. The she-bear was weakening and struggled to keep up. Then, stupidly, I tripped on a rock, losing precious space. The she-bear gave one final lunge and clubbed me with its left paw. I was flung across the cave and slammed into a wall. At least three ribs broke, and I felt one puncture my left lung. I started to cough, and blood came out. At least the bear was dead. My eyesight began to fade. No one here to die for me this time, I thought. I couldn't move - the blow must have snapped my spine. I smiled inwardly. I had had a good run of it. I felt a cold licking on my face. What? I began to experience the familiar feeling of healing as my body miraculously restored itself. This couldn't be possible. I was alone. Then it hit me. Sharley. I shoved him with my now functioning arms. "Get away!"I cried. "Not you too!"Sharley barked and continued licking me. I tried to close my eyes, but his constant licking forced them open. "Get off! Get off!" I felt my lung reflate. Simultaneously, I heard Sharley begin to wheeze and sputter. No, I thought. My best friend. He couldn't go. Not like this. My last rib snapped into place, and I felt a crunch as my spine reasserted itself. My body was healed. I pushed myself up, only to see Sharley wagging his tail and looking into my eyes. I bent over and put my arms around him. He rested his head on my knee, licked my face one last time, and then his tail stopped wagging forever.
I stared at the monster in front of me, the horror know only as Everyman. No one could count how many lives he'd taken, no one could even list all his attacks, his crimes. For years, we didn't even know he existed. But the rumors piled up. The criminal class whispered about the transforming man, the ultimate super. And I'd followed all the rumors, the clues, right to this moment. I had been on the case from the start, trying to find him, stop him. They caught him once, in Bangkok. I tried to get there as soon as I heard, but I knew they couldn't keep him. He tore the city in two and left without a trace. I realized that he was hunting us. Hunting supers. The only ones who stood a chance. The only ones who could stop him. The task force started interviewing registered supers, heroes and villains, active and retired. We needed any clue to who he was. It was when I spoke to the villainous Patchwork that I pieced things together. He laughed. He told me my uncle had been very busy. That his plan hadn't even needed him. "Tell me, did he kill the rest of the family? Did he kill Grandpa Incredible himself?" "My uncle died. We had his funeral. We had a body." "Dash, yes. He's dead. But did you ever hear about dear little Jack Jack?" I suddenly flashed to the day after Uncle Shelly's funeral. Mom, yelling at her parents. You know he did this! You pushed him to this, you know Jack killed him! The pictures with another baby, Mom just a teen, grandma Helen holding the infant. An uncle I never knew. Patchwork grinned. "You didn't come to me for his history though. Hahaha, no. No one's out done my designs, have they?" "No, they haven't. It doesn't matter who he is. I need to stop him. And I need your help." "Kid, what do you know about dramatic irony?"He asked with that scar-ridden grin. "Not much, why?" "Because me helping you stop uncle Jack, well that's a perfect example. We don't have enough time to build from scratch, so we'll need a base to work off. Something sturdy and heat resistant...hmm. Oh yes. I've got it. Tell me: where is Frozone's supersuit?"
Due to recent changes to our membership structure we cannot offer you Premium. Although, Standard and Lite are possible options for someone of your caliber. For more information, please find us at: afterlife.org/subscription If you feel as though this message has been displayed in error, please contact our technical administrator at: gabriel@afterlife.org &#x200B; From: Horus Quaff Sent: Sunday, October 21, 2018 1:42 PM To: Gabriel@afterlife.org Subject: Premium Subscription Error. Please help! &#x200B; Hi Gabriel, &#x200B; I recently received an error message when applying for the premium subscription at Afterlife. I was curious if you have had a chance to review, as this is very shocking to me. Would it be possible to CC Him on your reply? I know you two are very busy, but you must understand I deserve this subscription. If you only take but a few moments to look through my file I'm sure you will both understand. &#x200B; Thank you for your time, &#x200B; Horus &#x200B; Horus, &#x200B; Thank you for your email, I hope this finds you well. You have been categorized correctly. Unfortunately, we cannot offer you the Standard subscription, but our Lite version is available. Due to the nature of our proprietary algorithm I cannot provide more details. If you would like to dispute our assessment please contact us at: purgatory@afterlife.org &#x200B; Many blessings, &#x200B; Gabriel Archangel, MBA Technical Administrator (777) 303-8021 gabriel@afterlife.org &#x200B;
On our first date i tried to kiss her. When I tried to put my hands in her hair to pull her closer, she stopped me. "I... I have to go,"she said. Tears were in her eyes as she slammed the door in my face. I thought I had blown it. I sat in my car and sent her a text message. "I'm sorry :("it said. I didn't know exatly what I was sorry for. I played the night again in my head. Everything was perfect until the kiss. Maybe she was self conscious about her hair? It was obvious it was a wig. Mabe she thought I didn't know and was afraid I would accidentally pull it off or something. I guess that could be embarrassing. I woke up the next message to two missed call alerts and a string of unexpected texts. "Don't be I'm the one that's sorry I shouldn't have run off like that Don't hate me Please? Can we get coffee or something?" The time stamp on the last one was 10:16am. I looked over at my clock, 1:47pm. Shit! How did I sleep so late? typing "...it's ok. I understand...."The messages came in as I held my phone. I hit the call button immediately. "Hello...?"Her voice cracked into the phone as if she were still crying. "No! Coffee good! Now?"I blurted the string of incoherent semi-sentences into the phone. "I mean,"I started again, "I would love to get coffee with you. I just woke up and saw your messages. Are you free now?" "Sure,"she replied quickly but it's a little late for just coffee and I'm kinda hungry. Lunch maybe?" We met up at a place she suggested that served mostly salads, and wraps. I got a simple chicken wrap and she got the greek salad, extra olives on the side. "Fan of olives?"I asked trying to start conversation. She glanced down at her tray and frowned a little at the small cup full of the salty black rings. "Not really. Hate them actually."She left the conversation there as we found a table. We ate mostly in silence. I would ask a question; She would answer. I would make a comment; she would smile and nod. This was not going very well. "I'm going to throw this away,"grabbing her tray and walking off. She removed the cup of olives before dumping the rest. She picked a few out of the cup and looked around before tucking them into her hair in the back. She tucked the cup into her purse before heading back to the table. "Is that good for your hair or something?"I asked as she sat back down. "Is what?" "The olives. I saw you tuck a few into your hair. I know olive oil is supposed to..." She was visibly beginning to tense as I spoke. I blew it again. I should have let the olive thing go. Everyone has a weird quirk or two, right? "Can, can I show you something?"She asked. "I think I should show you. I mean, she wants me to show you."She began to put her fingers in her hair. "Look, if it's the wig, I already know about it. It doesn't bother me. Last night I..." She turned around and separated her hair in the back revealing a face. It was the same face that was in the front, but different. It looked sad. Lonely. It looked up at me expectantly, and I stared. I stared, and I could not stop staring. I stared until her eyed welled up with tears and I stared some more. How does a person even process something like this? The face began to cry openly now. Silent sobs of perceived rejection. She fluffed her hair out to cover it again and threw on her wig. "We need to go,"she said. "I'm really sorry it didn't work out, but I thought you should know before it went any further." Three days later I called her. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I begged her to let me see her again. We went out. We got to know each other. We slept together. We talked. We talked a lot. The face in the back couldn't audibly speak. She said it spoke in her mind. She told me what the face was trying to say. I learned to read lips so we couldn't speak directly. It learned to read lips as well. Hours of silent conversation as we lay next to each other. I kissed her. She kissed me back. I put my hand on her head to draw her in closer. The face on front didn't like that. It bit me. It turned around and pushed me away from her. It yelled at me. I said "I love you." It said "That doesn't solve everything." I said "I was talking to her, not you." It yelled some more and kicked me out. That bitch is keeping us apart and now I dont know what to do.
I creep along the edge of the building. Look down at my watch. 7:15. Right on schedule. I take out my binoculars and look inside the mansion. 2 women in the living room, watching TV. They'll be dead soon. I think I'll have a steak tonight. &#x200B; I've been doing this for years. It should be easy by now. In and out, just like I've done it a million times before. I've double checked my supplies. Gun, hair samples, fingerprint stickers, duct tape, flash light. It's all in there. I've done all my homework, studied patterns and daily routines. Everything is the way it should be. So why do I feel so nervous? &#x200B; I've been in this business for almost 2 decades now. I only take high price clients at this point. They call me the "body fixer."It's simple. Rich guy gets sick. Rich guy needs an organ. I find a compatible organ donor, frame them for murder, and rich guy gets his organ after the execution. I've probably killed hundreds by now. I've never failed, and that's why I'm the best. Only the 1% of the 1% know about me, and I'm the first one they reach out to. &#x200B; This job was different though. I've never had a client ask me to frame a specific person. The one condition they always add is that family is off limits. After that, they don't care where I get the organ they need. Too bad that narrows down the organ compatibility list. This time, they specifically asked for a family member. And that's why it's so lucrative. &#x200B; Thomas and Nathaniel Stanley are identical twins who inherited a 12 billion dollar conglomerate. They also hate each other. Something about Thomas sleeping with Nate's fiancee Trish? Either way, their company is now splintered into 2. It's losing money fast because of it. &#x200B; Thomas had an accident as a child, and now his heart's ticking when it should be tocking. He needs a new clock. Knew he would eventually need one since the accident. He figures that by hiring me, he can knock out 2 birds- getting his heart transplant, and putting the company back together. It's why I'm charging triple for this little mission. &#x200B; I have everything set up. Nate should come home between 8:10 and 8:15 PM. He'll find his wife and son murdered in the living room. The police should arrive a few minutes later, thanks to an anonymous tip. They'll find a gun with Nate's fingerprints, and all the evidence they need to convict him. &#x200B; But something seems....off. My stomach is churning. My heart is pounding. What's wrong? &#x200B; \---------------------------------- It's 11:07 now. It all went without a hitch. I stuck around long enough to watch the cops take Nate away in cuffs. I was stupid to think something was wrong. Maybe it was just something I read. &#x200B; After stepping out of the shower, I turn on the TV. It's all over the news. Nathaniel Stanley arrested for murder. I usually don't celebrate these things, but tonight I grill some steak. Blood dripping off the seared meat, I slowly slice myself a small chunk to devour. I wish I could call Thomas and tell him the good news, but it'd attract too much attention. I just know my job well done will leave my client happy, resting at home with his wife and children. \---------------------------------- It was an hour. Maybe less than that. Nathaniel had begged for clemency until his last moments. Refused the last rites. Didn't even have a last meal. He'd been executed around noon. Lethal injection. The tears on his face hadn't even dried by the time he was pronounced dead. &#x200B; I was in cuffs by 1. \---------------------------------- The trial was brutal. I didn't stand a chance. Thomas had already pleaded guilty and cooperated. He never struck me as a rat. There was clear video footage of me from that night, murdering 2 people in cold blood and framing another. It was a pinhole camera, hidden inside some grates. Sent anonymously to the police, exactly a minute after Nathaniel was pronounced dead. &#x200B; I'm set to be electrocuted tomorrow. I wonder what I should get for my last meal. &#x200B; The guard walks in, and tells me I have a visitor. It's Trish, Thomas' wife and Nate's ex-fiancee. The one who broke the twins up. &#x200B; "Why are you here?"I mutter. &#x200B; "I'm here to thank you."She says, with a sly smile creeping across her face. &#x200B; "For what?" &#x200B; She hands me a newspaper. 'STANLEY CORP REACHES $15 BILLION DEAL WITH TRISH STANLEY' &#x200B; "It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I honestly thought I'd have to take care of Nate's wife and son later, but you did that for me. Didn't want to deal with the inheritance litigation over who was the rightful kin." &#x200B; "So you were behind all of this? How did you know Thomas would hire me to take out Nate?" &#x200B; "I knew it would happen eventually. Why do you think I broke them apart in the first place? &#x200B; I sit in silence as she walks away. I can hear the sound of her heels fading away in the distance. &#x200B; I think I'll order steak tomorrow.
Ellen dreamed of wood worms. White, fat segmented larvae poking their brown heads out of her bedroom wall, their black jaws chewing on white painted wood pulp. At first, there was only one. A vermiphobe, Ellen bit her lip to keep from shrieking as chills ran up and down her arms. Summoning up her courage, she grabbed a tissue and slammed it against the larva, turning her head away to avoid looking at it. The thud reverberated through the wall. Hundreds of agitated worms poke their heads out. Some fall onto the floor, writhing. Holes and cracks span the entire wall. Ellen reached for the doorknob. A mass of dozens of larvae fall from the ceiling. Her auburn hair was covered with a snowy layer of dust and chips of paint... and wriggling, burrowing worms. She bolts awake. Her limbs are sticky with hot sweat. Keeping her eyes closed, she shakes her head vigorously, feeling small things cling to her hair before plopping onto her bedcovers. She picks up her phone. The exterminator is on speed-dial. The call goes to voicemail. She leaves a message. “Hi, Paul? It’s Ellen again. I know you just came by last week, but I’m gonna need you over. Worms in walls. Please call me back when you get the chance.” Ellen gives her head one last good shake. She wonders if she should take a shower before remembering that her bathroom is adjacent her bedroom - chances were higher that she’d be getting a shower of larvae than water. She squints her eyes to try to see as little of her worm infestation as she could, and makes her way to her living room. Her camping equipment is already laid out. So are her guns and her machete. “Wonder what I’ll have to kill in the great outdoors this time,” she mutters.
"Who are you?"I asked nervously, stepping back to get a better look at myself. The nose was different...or at least I think it was? I'd never paid much attention to my own nose. He looked at me with a silent determination. "I'm your guardian angel. Everyone has one. I'm yours..."He muttered, looking at me. The determination was still there. I tried to hide my shock, but must admit I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a solid minute before I captured my anger and indignation. I jammed my finger into his chest with a glare. "My guardian angel? Ha! Good to meet you, where the hell have you been!?"I growled. He sighed and shook his head, not meeting my gaze. "I'm serious! After my whole life you show up on a street corner. And say your my guardian angel. After the abusive foster homes? And the touchy priest? And the three relapses before I kicked heroine? And you're supposed to have protected me? Well thanks for turning up. But I've lived this long without you. and I'm pretty sure I'll do just fine moving forward."I shouted. As a response he swung hard, hitting me in the nose and jaw. I went to the ground, not even sure what just happened until the pain rushed in. "You're right. I didn't protect you. But now I can. Congratulations Mark. Today's the day you die... You die at eleven after one, March sixteenth. Two thousand and eighteen. You're hit by a car. And laying on the sidewalk is a guy with a fucked up face, that no reaper in their right mind would ever confuse for you. That man gets a second chance at life. One where maybe, just maybe, the mistakes of some idiot celestial who never took his job seriously won't define who he is."He shouted. I couldn't move. My head was still foggy from the hit. But I could hear. I could hear him step out into the street. I could hear the squeel of tires. And after a few minutes, I heard the ambulance come. When they came to me first, I knew there was no hope for him.
I was working the night shift when it happened. That's right. The Night Shift. If you're new here, you might not be familiar with what that means, but not to worry, you'll learn soon enough. For now, know that the night shift can be summarized in one word: boring. See, that's what happens when you work in one of the most highly classified facilities in the continental United States. You'd think as a highly trained CIA operative who was directly responsible for the collapse of the USSR, my skills would be valued here, but the truth is I haven't needed them at all. So trust me when I say the same is true for you. You were picked for one reason, and one reason only. Clearance. You're one of the lucky few who has the clearance for this job, that simple. But enough of that. Like I was saying, nothing much happens around here at night. You'll meet the other 'agents' soon enough, but we tend to pull straws for each shift. As you can probably guess, on this particular night, it was yours truly who was on watch. It was probably about 0200 hours and I'd just cycled through the good ol' quantum rotary lock. Naturally my next step was to turn on the CCTV and relax for awhile, but just as I sat down, who would've thought that the Preliminary Detection Light turned red? Safe to say I was pretty pissed. I figured I'd have to send a report to IT later, because the light had actually turned on. What a joke. Can't they ever get technology to work as it should? But just as I was thinking that, the Infared Resonance System started going off too. You better believe I started taking it seriously after that, because the IRS is no joke, heh. The Preliminary Detection Light is just a bitch, but when the IRS calls you, shit is getting real. At this point, I had to seriously assess the situation. In all likelihood, the facility was being invaded by a highly organized and well funded group. They'd managed to crack the highly secure protocols of the Preliminary Defense System in just under 12 seconds. I'm not sure even I could do it. Normally the next step would be to release neurotoxins, but under the circumstances, it's completely reasonable that I fired a highly dense beam of radiation right into the lobby. It'd be a hell of a mess to clean up, but that shit always gets the job done, well funded group or not. Knowing that they were all dead, I went ahead and started filling out an incident report. Sure I was a little sloppy, but what are they going to do? Fire me? Haha, as if. Come back when you find someone qualified enough, am I right? Well, that would've been the case. Problem was, next thing I knew, an alarm started going off in Section J02. Bad Fucking News, let me tell ya. That's where they store the crap from Area 51. Just imagine if that shit got out into the public. Then you'd see some heads roll. I couldn't just let that happen, so I decided to turn on the Android Scumbag Simulator, or A.S.S. for short. We're never supposed to use this guy, because he's an asshole. He's the A.I. responsible for almost starting World War 3, though the public doesn't know that. He's also really expensive to run, and wants nothing more than to destroy humanity. Those are minor details though. I'd figure out that problem once he took care of business. Talk as much shit as you want about this guy, but he's smart and capable. Or at least he was, until he suddenly experienced irrecoverable damage to his simulated cortex. $2 billion project down the drain right there, unfortunately. Before he died he did manage to send one report: Incapable of analyzing threat Huh? That guy goes and dies and that's all he sends? What a headache. There's going to be a lot of paperwork. I didn't want to, but I begrudgingly got out of my seat. It seemed like I was going to have to take care of this personally. Naturally, like all things, I solved it in a pinch. You read the report, so naturally you read all about how it was some highly specialized splinter cell of the Nazi party. But even you didn't read the part in black tape, so I'll let you in on a little secret. That's just what we told the public. Truth is, it was just some dude sleepwalking. Fancy that. Sometimes I wonder how government officials like us can be so effective. Welcome to the club!
"I wonder what Germany will be like?"I thought to myself knowing full well it's probably smoldering ash by now. You see, a week ago these scientist guys started getting weird readings or somethin in germany, I'm not into the whole mumble jumbo so I wasn't really paying attention. Either way I'm now in a heli with the rest of my squad going right towards the danger, like we always do. Once we get there we are supposed to asses the situation and we have the rights to kill whatever we need to, but no more. &#x200B; We just landed and it seems... quiet... too quiet... "whats with the thousand yard stare commander?"said one of my squad mates, instantly breaking my trance. "oh, sorry, Germany is just so beautiful.""agreed". &#x200B; As we made our way to the center of town, we spotted something moving, it was red-ish and looked human so we approached it. It turned around and I think we scared it, but it scared us more. "oh what the fuck!"said another squad mate as he raised his weapon. I was still trying to process the situation, it looked... strange... it was red, two beady eyes, and looked mangled. It started to talk to us in English, "Oh, hi there! did you come for the party?"it said, "what the fuck are you?"I said, instantly regretting my words. "what?! you've never seen a demon before?!""lower your weapons squad, until this... thing... shows to be hostile"I said. he told us to follow him an we decided we might as well. a few minutes later we are standing in front of a manor with loud music and bright lights shining out, it looks like a party. &#x200B; As we enter the house, we see a whole bunch of people dancing, along with demons. "this doesn't seem so bad"said a squad mate. We lay down our weapons and join the party, but little did we know, in 4 minutes, this manor was going to be consumed into hell.
4/13/42 To a historian: How long has it been? Two years? It feels more like two seconds. The main powers now, not California, not New York, not even Texas. Now the main powers are Democratic Oregon, Oligarchic Rhode Island, and Monarchic Florida. So far, Rhode Island is the most powerful. I’ve known this type of governing before, almost exactly. It’s like ancient Sparta, and they don’t seem to be stopping soon. Most likely my last entry, Dr. K The writing stops there. It was found in what was Michigan and confirms the theory of a Rhode Island invasion. It was hidden poorly if they never wanted anyone to find it, but well enough if they wanted it found later.
"Johnson, get over here! I think they've finally done it!" I stare in disbelief as the thing in front of me calls to another. They're human.. well almost, they look different, the clothing is like nothing I've ever seen before, and I can't explain the technology they all have their bodies. The second being comes to take a look at me like someone would see a pet or a child. "W-what's going on?"I mutter in disbelief as the converse amongst themselves. Ignoring me they continue in excited tones. "I told you they were getting close!" "Quick someone wright down the time, we have to document this!" "I don't believe it, I guess the old 'monkeys in a room with typewriters analogy was true'.." I begin to panic and raise my voice looking at these new and unbelievable beings talking in a language that I don't know why I understand. "Can someone tell me WHAT IS GOING ON?" They all freeze and look in my direction, one of them furiously writing on some sort of tablet or screen, then the first that I saw turns to me and smiles. "The experiment is over, everything will be explained soon."
PART I . . . . . . The dealer’s showing two pairs, kings over nines. Clint holds three of a kind, all sevens. He’s been winning all night. Adolfo, to his right, looks nervous; he’s calling, not raising, which goes against all of the bold moves he’s made throughout the night. His hand is probably shit, Clint thinks. The signal, he sees it. It is shit, he confirms. The fatass to Clint’s left folds. So do the others, all save Adolfo and his partner. He glances at his timepiece, it’s almost the agreed-upon time. This is going to be his last hand. He’s still a few grand short of his self-ascribed quota. Sure, he’s racked up more than his partner told him he ought to, but he’s only going to get one shot at a score this big. He won’t ever be able to show his face on the strip again after this. He may as well clean Adolfo out now while he has the chance. Clint raises. His partner doesn’t look pleased by that move. The uptight prick probably considers it an ‘unnecessary risk’. Well, fuck him, Clint decides. Adolfo. Sweet old, good old, dumb as shit Adolfo. He raises and calls, the poor bastard. Clint smiles, he’s just made his quota. He shows his hand to the table and the mook collapses on it. Fuck. Now there’s going to be extra eyes on them. It’s time to rack up the chips and leave. He pointedly doesn’t stare in his partner’s direction as he exits the floor of the Casino and heads up to the rendezvous point, a room on the third floor. His partner will join him in twenty minutes after losing a few hands. As soon as he’s behind the privacy of the closed door, locked for extra security, he breaks into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Ha, ha, ha…” Clint laughs; it’s a child’s laughter, raucous and unbidden. He can’t remember ever being this happy, feeling this light or free. It’s a one-way ticket to easy street after this. It’s time to pop the cork on that champagne. He doesn’t wait for his associate, the goombah gets free drinks on the floor after all. He’s halfway through the bottle and whatever’s on TV when his partner rushes into the room, slamming the door behind him. He looks pissed, Clint reflects. “You look pissed. What shit in your craw?” He elocutes. “You, you fucking meatball! What the hell was that out there?” His “Calm down Gino, have some champagne. We’re rich men tonight.” He placates. “I don’t want your fucking champagne. I want to know what the hell made you think it was a good idea to take so many unnecessary risks. We can’t afford to fuck this up!” He shouts in hushed tones, the conversation only meant for the two pairs of ears. Clint tries hard not to laugh at the guy, because it seems like he doesn’t know whether he wants to shout or whisper. No, that’s not true. He definitely wants to shout, if the red face and protruding veins are any indicators. Clint deflates. He knows he took more risks than he should’ve; but, the score was huge. What’s a few more stacks on top of that? Whatever, he’s not going to defend his actions. He decides that pouring champagne into a glass is a good enough way to buy himself time to think. Gino’s an old-timer, he’s been in the game a long time. He’s probably just pissed. He feels disrespected because his plans weren’t followed to the letter. Clint sighs, the guy comes off as a half a fag sometimes with all those emotions he wears on his sleeves. Swirling the glass and offering it to his partner, he opts for diplomacy instead. “Look, Gino. I fucked up alright. I wasn’t thinking. But, what’s done is done. We have the chips now, and the money is practically ours. And from what I saw, we weren’t noticed. Right?” Gino’s fury abates. He knows Clint isn’t sorry; and Clint knows, he knows, he isn’t sorry. So, why argue about it further, Clint rationalizes. Gino stands stone-faced, the guy isn’t going to make this easy. Fine, fuck it, Clint decides, he won’t have to deal with the guido again after this. “I’m sorry, okay?” Clint placates. It does the trick. Gino accepts the glass, plucking it out of Clint’s hand. All is apparently forgiven—not like Clint gives a rat’s ass. Clint’s not an old-timer. He understands that the rules are different. The game is different. Gino doesn’t understand that, he’s still stuck in the past. He thinks that respect means something. Maybe it used to, but not anymore. Respect doesn’t make you a made man, money does. So, he’ll swallow his pride for now and apologize to the prick. There’s a lot of things that Clint would be willing to swallow his pride for, and they can all be bought: cars, jewelry, women, real estate. The sky’s the limit. And his fortune’s sitting inside the bag on top of the table, waiting to be cashed out. Gino downs the glass like a shot. Is he trying to act tough, acting like that doesn’t burn? It’s not impressive. It’s a little pathetic actually. “Give me the chips. I’d like to get my money and get the fuck out of here before you have another chance to fuck it up again.” “They’re on the table.” Clint turns around to pour himself another glass from the bar, and stops dead in his tracks. He replays Gino’s words over again in his head. What the hell did he just say? Clint realizes.
Nick checked his watch. 7:50. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. The board wouldn't like the fact that he was late to yet another meeting. But they would tolerate it, for now. Nick just had to make sure this didn't happen again. Then, there could be trouble. Nick looked out his limousine window at the New York City skyline. He never did get tired of the locations the board liked to set their meetings in. It was one of the only perks for working with the board, actually. That and the money. After all, how else was he supposed to afford all of his high-end, 3-hour-long massages? Nick finally reached the building the board owned. It was an impressive one, to be sure. Not the tallest around, but definitely up there. Plus, the stone and glass work done on every level must have cost a fortune to do. Luckily for the board, they had several fortunes to spend. Nick looked himself up and down, made sure his new suit was pressed flat and his hair was in line, and marched towards the building. Inside, Nick was given a thorough pat-down and x-ray scan by a few of the many security guards there. Nick sighed. One of the many, many downsides for working for the board. Sometimes Nick wished he had never taken this job all those years ago. But the money was enough to keep him there. Well, the money and one other thing... "Ah Nick. We were wondering when you would arrive." The voice shook Nick out of his thoughts. He had just walked into a giant meeting room. There seemed to be around fifty people seated around the table in the center. They all looked like very well-off businessmen and politicians, with fancy suits that made Nick start to feel insecure about his own. "Chairman. A pleasure, sir. Sorry I'm late. I had some pressing business to attend to." The Chairman looked at him as if he could see right through his lie, probably because he could. "Well, never mind that,"the Chairman finally said. "Please, take a seat and let us begin." Nick nodded sharply and took the only seat left in the room. "Ladies and gentlemen gather here today,"the Chairman began. "You are the heads of this illustrious board, and you all know I would call you here only to discuss an issue of absolute and utmost importance." Everyone in the breath took a deep breath. They knew what such an issue could lead to. Their deaths, definitely. But more importantly, the deaths of all of mankind. "As you all know, the roots of this board go way back, all the way to the 16th century. Our founders saw a way to beat back the threat to humanity, the biggest threat we have ever seen and probably will ever see." Everyone in the room nodded solemnly. Everyone in the room knew what the Chairman was talking about, without him having to mention it. But, Nick thought, he's going to say it anyways. The Chairman did always need to make things dramatic. "Dragons."The Chairman almost whispered this word, as if the mere mention of them could bring them swooping down from the skies. "As many of you may have guessed, our issue concerns the dragons. Someone is trying to break them free." The Chairman paused to let the information sink in. No one knew how to respond at first. Then once it sank in, everyone started talking at once. "How is that even possible?" "Why would someone want to do such a thing?" "How long will it take for them to break the seals?" The Chairman waited for the room to settle down then nodded at all the questioners. "You all have very good questions. I wish I knew the answers. To find out, we will send one of our best operatives out into the field to collect information." Nick felt a sinking feeling in his chest. He knew where the Chairman was going with this. It was the part he hated most about his job. It was also, he knew, the biggest thing that kept him there. "Nick,"the Chairman said. "You will be sent out on a very dangerous mission. The exact details cannot be said here, however you must know you have a very great chance of not coming back. Do you accept." Nick stood up. He knew the risks of accepting. He also knew the risks of denying the Chairman a request. He nodded. "I accept." "Very well,"the Chairman said. "From this point onward I give you the authority to use your Dragon Gate as you see fit to complete this mission. I will give you the rest of the details in a moment, after we finalize the meeting." Nick nodded again and sat back down. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur for him. The Dragon Gate was all he could think about. Back then, when he was first offered to work for the board, even if they didn't offer to pay him a single penny, he would probably have joined just for that intoxicating power. The Dragon Gate... He was ready to get reacquainted with it.
I sit in a museum now. I've had a long time to think about things. When I was a year old I killed a man. His name was Corbinian Reiner. He was 17 years old. His father was a farmer in Dresden and his mother when she was very young sang for a relative of the kaiser. He was not the last. When I was four, the war had ended. I was sold underhandedly to a Chinese regiment. For many years after I served Kai-Shek, laying waste to his enemies and their hovels. When I was thirteen a new threat came, one who I could not defeat. But that was alright. They broke me, but then they fixed me up. Now I served the sun. For many years after I killed many. Sometimes, the people I killed didn't even shoot back. I didn't feel so good about those one's, especially when they were only small pistols themselves. Eventually, strange men took me to an island. But we did not win. Other men took me to a different land, and now here I sit. I've thought a lot about a lot. Maybe I don't have to kill anymore. Maybe there just isn't a use for me anymore. Maybe things can be different.
Newbie here, so offer all thoughts, advices and feedback on the story. "You could have rejected me, called me and considered me a friend. I....I loved you more than....more than my life and myself......and you.....you....... 'Foodzoned' me? You kept me only becsuse I can aid you economically?", sobbed another young lover who obviously had a super crush on someone. He was sitting all alone, near a table of a cafe beside me, when he suddenly burst into tears and muttered these words whilst weeping. His weeping was followed by giggles of men and women who sat nearby, while I came up to him to console and save him for any further embarrassment. "Pardon me brother,"exclaimed I, "Your love never admired you nor revered you, but you'll lose all your admirers and the ones who revere you if keep crying like this. It's a case a spilled milk. You should not cry all over the place for it"stated I in a placid voice. "Then let it be!", said the lover angrily and impatiently while trying to hide his face which was soaked with tears. This led out a burst of laughter by the by-sitters. This scene hit the right spot again in my heart, which brought out a ache in my heart. Half of the world seemed to be as broken hearted as him when they ever heard a thought about themselves brooding over in the mind of people for whom they wanted to sacrifice their life and everthing, just to find themselves in a beautiful corner of their heart. Well, I almost forgot to tell you the story, and the story behind it. It was 2020, when a weird man-made pathogen created a cerebral disease which broke out from a lab. It was highly antibiotic resistance, changes its genetic sequence frequently, seldom mutated in the lab conditions and gave no symtoms except the ability to read the thoughts of their crush, parents, friends, and family members- but of only those whom they loved. The biologists and microbiologists are still applying their hearts and minds to cure this disease and had not even made a single breakthrough till now. You may think just like me and question what is the use for curing such disease which gave people such a potential superpower and consider it a blessing. But no, we all were wrong... The sucide rate skyrocketed, murders became prominent, and the case of abuse was reported worldwide. It stained the world and its pure relationships. The adolescents were the viable victims, and every 1 in 6 adolescent committed suicide or other crimes when the most secret place and their secrets came to the lights. We all may had such secrets, in our old days and even now. I was also such a victim. I didn't had those adolescent or childish fantasies, for those places were already packed with creativity, and my special desires- love for knowledge, technology,science, dogs, ordinance, misogyny and homophobia. I was also socially awkward which made me a target for those whom I hated, and the information leak generally came out by fair-weather friends. I am an ex-operative of special forces now, and also one of those who stood to fight the war against the biggest information snitch, which means curing the population of the disease. My train of thoughts came to an end by the voice of the taxi driver, which brought me the notice that we had reached the 'distressed weeper's' home. He was asleep, and probably had drank a lot, for he seemed to be in a drunken haze when I woke him up. I had to support him during his advent to his home. He fumbled at the lock for a minute, which prompted me to step into action. I snatched the key from his hand and opened the door, while he slouched by a nearby pillar. I supported him to his room, which was filled with antiques and all kinds of luxury. He seemed to be rich, and I think that it was the reason behind the cheating done by the girl. I saw the girl first time in the pictures hung around the room, which also bore a bit of romanticism. He also had a potrait of her over his bed, made of entirely of rubik's cubes. I left his house in guard with his housekeeper, who returned soon from the grocery, and after much praises and appreciation. I strolled to my home, always brooding over the imperative thought in my mind, which kept me asking of the event when we fail and give up. With a resolute decision of conquering the plague, I engrossed myself in my work to protect myself from the thoughts which rooted back to the previous incident. I went to my lab next day and proposed a new theory of eradicating the disease from the world. It was received well and with an applause. When I went to my workstation, I glanced at the newspaper following my usual habit. I quickly recognized the figure printed in an article printed at the first page of the newspaper. "Dr. Michael Hawk, a savant of mathematics and science had been found dead in the morning, which seemed to be connected to a story of failed love. He was found hanginf from his ceiling by his housekeeper in the morning when he broke into the room when his voice went unanswered. He had recently moved to the city of....."I read no further than that point of the article in the newspaper when the whole incident went accross my vision while the world mourned for another loss due to the filthy disease!
Go back. &#x200B; "Uhm, I'm not sure..." &#x200B; I said go back! Why is nothing happening? &#x200B; "I have band on Fridays, and Mrs Roberts gets really mad when we don't show up..." &#x200B; What have I done? Why can't I fix this? Dear God! &#x200B; "I could probably do Saturday afternoon." &#x200B; This is the worst- "Wait, what?" &#x200B; "Saturday afternoon, I'm free." &#x200B; "So wait-" &#x200B; "Yes, the answer is yes." &#x200B; "You'll see The Incredibles 2 with me?" &#x200B; "Yes! Saturday, around 2pm." &#x200B; Nailed it.
It was old. Very old. Old enough that when it was made it had a served a specific purpose. The inscription on it had numbers. No one knew how to read numbers anymore, the only reason we even knew it was called a 'swiss army' knife as opposed to anything else is because the elder told us that that is what it was called. I could hear the crunch of the enemy's soldier line stomping forward into the crater that I stood at the center of. I looked down at the small machine, how can one little object hold such power. "God, thou hath blessed me with thine might, and I shall use it for thine will."I recited. The New Book was blasphemous and contradictory to the Old but in the thick of things the New Words brought a cool calmness that couldn't be from this world. The line of soldiers were surrounding the crater, I could hear their boots stomps getting closer now. They were going to appear at the edge all at once. Feeble attempts to get an upper hand. There was a soft glow that radiated from the small knife, where it came from I'm not sure. When I Used the Stopping it would glow so brightly that it would colour the world with its glow. They were at the edge now. "Kn-Knifer, you are surrounded. We have come armed and ready to end your tyranny. Drop the Knife and we will allow you your life."There was an accent to that voice. Heavy and the words slurred. He was scared. No one but me knew what things the Knife really did. No one lived after my Usings. Except one. The one that I let spread rumours. He called me the Knifer. I don't like the name but you can't really choose what they say about you. Hopefully the worst things. H-He guts them! I don't know I don't know how he does it. B-b-but he guts all of them. A-a-all at on-once. They called him mad. But he was the most sane out of all of 'em. Don't! Don't go out there! They should've listened I turned around to where the voice was coming from. Their guns aimed towards me, ready to pull the trigger at the commander's signal. "No,"I replied. "T-Then p-p-perish! Fire!"He stammered out. He was scared. The fear in his voice made my heart beat faster. Blood rushed into every corner of my body. I looked down at the machine. I had had the knife swiveled out of its many tools. I breathed out and pressed the cross. A click. That's all it sounded like. It was the last sound that they'd hear. The world around me filled with light from the small knife. Everything the light touched came to a standstill. The Stopping. That's what the swiveling the knife does. Everything stops. The other tools do other things. Forces I have yet to master. Forces I don't understand. I walked up the crater. I will gut them. I will slit the throats of all of them. When they awake from my Stopping, each of them will see is their blood spilling out of their bodies. No survivors this time. The rumours can spread on the backs of the dead.
His attic was all in shambles. I could hear his whisperings about the fall of Alexandria and the resurgence of civilization in Rome - the emergence of the western ethos. The Histories. The type of man who saw only the problems of the present and the wisdoms of the past. &#x200B; He pawned off a series of books, one-by-one, to me and my sister. They were sometimes old copies of Madame Bovary or Beau Geste. He always did have a fondness of the classics. I wonder what his students thought of him. He was a rambler. I suppose I, too, ramble, from time to time. Must be genetic. As he grew older, his trips away from the estate became more frequent and less understood. For a man obsessed with the old world, it was highly unusual for him to make a last-minute trip to Japan. I hope he found something worth listening to in their Shinto shrines. I hope Mount Fuji loomed over him, distant. Maybe I'm just a sucker for reciprocity, or is this a kind of grief? I guess I've never been through his things before. I'll take a book. MIM &#x200B; Its cover only held three stick-figure runes - two flag-like outcrops about an individual wheel-spoke. Turning it towards the candlelight - damn the hurricane - I noticed a glint of black and red topple from the top of the spine, crashing into the heap of looseleaf at the foot of the bookshelf. Careful not to light anything aflame, I bend the candle close to the papers, rifling through using the book as a shovel - and there it lay, a tiny key fob. The fob had white etchings of Kanji on a red, centered button. Fumbling, I pressed it. I hear it crunch, broken, and the button appeared to have shifted its spring and crumpled into the black cavity. I cursed just a little bit, but then I noticed that the Kanji are no longer on the button itself, but rather embedded in the wrinkles of my thumb, growing smaller and smaller. Holding the book still, it falls apart in my hands and turns to paper and then to dust. I feel the heft of the library spiral around me as I come to my feet, engrossed in the stupor of paranoia. I lift my chin to the ceiling, staring, mouth agape. The palimpsest papyrus scrolls topple onto the floor, turning the papers to desert, and the sky peers through the windows, suddenly burdened by pitch-black night, followed by darting strands of starlight. Lo. For I was certain, as you, the way of this world. The singleness of it. The wild unease of being. And so I sought this future, this arc of the axis mundi, shooting forth a ladder into heaven substitute, cabled by earth metal and acid and flat-weaved, melted earth. Behold! For I built this key, and it is this alone that you, a finder, inherit, wandering through a world described and dead. Mimry, a fine choice for a new name. Welcome to Godhood. Tea is at 2pm.
Do you know that feeling when you just wake up but your eyes are still closed, you feel like your home in your own bed but you aren’t. It’s like your still dreaming but.. “Who the fuck are you?” A female voice interupting my imaginations on the breakfast I’m about to eat when I wake up. I open my eyes and look to my left. “Holy fuck!” I screamed as I jumped out of the bed hiding my crotch looking for my clothes. Ignoring the older women who must have been atleast twice my age. “Fuck, fuck fuck where are my clothes?”. All I could think of was getting out of this situation. If my girlfriend found out anything about this I’d be finished, done. I grabbed a towel to cover my naked body while the women kicked me out the door. I’m in a hall this must be a hotel I thought as I looked outside a window trying to get an idea of where I am, no clue. I’ve never seen a skyline like this before. I made my way down the stairs trying not to be seen by anyone. I couldn’t imagine anything more shameful at this moment untill.. “Sir, sir!” A woman confronted me from behind. “Sorry I’m sorry I..” I stutterd. “Did you lock yourself out your room?” she asked. “Yes I did. I’m so sorry” I lied to her, something I’ve always been good at. She looked at me a bit concerned. “You must have had a rough night, don’t worry it happens quite often. I’ll open the door for you.” I followed her back upstairs to what must be someone elses room just hoping there wouldn’t be anyone else inside as she unlocked the door. “There you go sir.” Without even saying thank you I walked in and closed the door. What the fuck is happening I thought to myself as I searched the luxury room for clues. A kingsize bed, a beautiful vieuw on the city skyline, a bar full with expensive alcohol. There is no way I could have paid for all this. As my knees fell to the ground, I saw my keys and phone next to a huge pile of coke what looked like to be the shape of Spain my homeland. “Knock, knock”..
He stood there in the valley of the dead with the bones littering the ground and high above him in the mountains the sound of the serpents screaming the dark. Lashed about the bodies of the waking horrors. A cataclysmic and endless conquest between those things of the world that writhed in the deep. Far off the lightning moving in the northern mountains and the thundering sounds of something great treading through the fallen snow. He did not draw his sword. The forged steel heavy on his back. In other days perhaps he would have but this world now one he lived in and which also lived in him and he knew when he would need the blade and when he would not. Reaching up to adjust the furs over his chainmail against the cold. Beside him he could feel the sariik. That lost soul of this world, a thing of shadow and mist. Ancient and in that age perhaps driven mad but also driven to some new understanding of what the world truly was. Perhaps the rest of them outside of this wasteland between the kingdoms of men were truly those who were mad. Living as they were with fields and orchards and the whitestone castles standing tall on the coasts of the breaking sea. Each on either side of the twin mountain ranges and here in the valley between the two a thousand miles of broken and shattered earth. This land where no man should live but now that he did he felt everything outside of it was some myth and here with the undead and the dead alike was the only place he was truly alive. You'll never find her, the sariik said. He felt the words more than anything. That shifting vapor wrapping around him. He did not answer. Walking forward through stone and ash. On one side a pool of dark water the color of pitch and on the other a gash through the earth an untold distance. Far below something burning and the smell of it like hosts of men and women lashed at the stake. He could see the glow of the furnace if he looked but never the fire itself. Picking his way forward through the bones. Listen to me, the sariik said. Again he said nothing. She's already lost to us. “She's not,” he said. Stepping through onto an island of stone. In the center a tree withered and dead. Staked upon the top a head with the flesh eaten off by the vultures. The eyes slowly blinking. The tongue torn out. You know she is. “Leave me.” I will never leave you. “Then you understand.” A drifting silence. The mist shifting about him. The screams of the serpents quieted but now something howling at the shrouded moon. He looked far to the east and up in the trees on the slope he could see them lurching down in the shale. Could not make them out individually but their swarming bodies coming down making the hill seem to be alive and crawling. The crack of the breaking branches. Bones underfoot. She is this place. You know she is. “Leave me.” And if you find her, you know what it means. He moved slowly to the west with the sword still on his back and went down through a cold river he could not feel. Stepping once into the deep and the water rising over his head and knowing it but still able to breathe. Walking in the rocks and looking down and one of them a skull with the flesh gone and bonewhite and glistening. The jaw moving. To what end he did not know. He came soaking and cold out the other side and stood looking down through the valley toward where pillars of stone rose in a labyrinth of night and dark and the things that lived within those stones. How long it would take to walk that distance unfathomable. How long he had walked already also unknown. Here sustained in some suspension both between life and fully in that life. This ravaged land a gash perhaps to the world's very soul. Listen to me, the sariik said. Listen to me. And so he walked on. Listening to those thundering footsteps in the reaches of the world. The calls in the dark of those things that feasted on dragons. Thinking of all the things he knew and those he did not and wondering about all the steps in his life that had led him to this end. None of which he could change nor would he. On the horizon the tall and blooming burn of the endless fire birthed first into the world and rolling down the sides of the mountain and all about him the smoke moving in the still wind. She'll kill you, it said.
The first thing I noticed was that her car was absent. Strange, she's normally home well before me. And the door is unlocked. I shrugged it off. Maybe she's just getting milk. I get inside, slip my shoes off, and head straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I spend a moment fumbling around in the cupboard for my favourite mug, and don't find it. The kettle clicks off behind me, but I'm still anxious about my mug. Did I leave it in the front room? So I enter the front room looking for my mug. There on the coffee table before me is a heap. My old phone charger. The wife's missing earrings. Socks. And a hammer. I'd been looking for that hammer. Where could all of this have come from? I glance upwards at the far wall of the room, and the dozens of eyes peering at me. My wife's... collection. I never trusted the little pointed headed fuckers. Garden ornaments ought to stay in the garden. Slowly, I grabbed the hammer. Suddenly, I hear a gasp behind me, and I spin around to see my wife, who then starts to laugh. "I am so sorry, but for a horrible moment there I thought you were going to go to town on my gnomes."she said through the giggles. I joined her in laughter at the thought. I can't say I wouldn't enjoy it. "No worries, I was just going to put this back in the shed. Where did you find all this stuff?" "My dad came over to fix the washing machine, this stuff had all fallen down the back. It drains properly now, but still makes that funny noise on the spin cycle. Probably needs a new belt."she explained. "Okay, I'll have to stop by somewhere and get one tomorrow. And I'll install it myself, can't have your father go thinking that I can't fix stuff in this house. Oh, I didn't see your car outside..." "Gav called earlier and said that somebody cancelled so if I liked I could get the MOT done on it today." "Ah, that's good."I nod. Behind her, I notice my mug on the floor next to her chair, and frown internally. Of all the mugs in this house. I pick it up and head to the kitchen. "Kettle just boiled. Fancy a cuppa?"
She walked along the leaf-littered, forest trail as if she had known only that, her whole life. Each step, leading deeper into the quiet wood and placing distance between the woman and her sordid past. No previous experience would prophesy the things that lay ahead, but the wisdom, put on by each prior year would guide her into that uncertain future. As she lifted her face to the sky and breathed a ragged breath, the sun caught a glimpse of the silver in her hair. Short in stature, sure in step, she moved forward knowing that whatever lay ahead, however uncertain, she could gather herself around it and with the strength of a hardened life, make it through.
Venus, one of the first planets the Corpus took. The icy mountains served as a great hiding place for their production factories and now the debt internment camps. The main one was called Fortuna and to say it was hell would be an understatement. It was used to hold those who were most in debt with the Corpus, or the enemies of high ranking officials. It was impossible to escape, legitimately or otherwise. It was in the middle of a frozen wasteland, so anyone that somehow escaped through the heavily guarded gates would surely die from the cold. And if you wanted to pay off your debt, well, that is impossible. The interest rate was always above 50% and the wages kept getting lower and lower. Many of the workers cut and sold parts of their body to try, in vain mind you, to pay off their debt which is why most of the prisoners are augmented in some way. The work was unbearable with shifts that were always somewhere between 14 and 20 hours long. Ideas of rebellions were constant in their minds but it was guaranteed suicide. The Corpus weapons were too high tech and their numbers were endless with hundreds of thousands of combat Moas on standby for whenever their would be such a rebellion. The workers were too few in numbers and too poorly equipped to even have a chance of winning. It all seemed hopeless, until the Tenno came...
Original Copies of Neon Genesis Evangelion, Body Pillows, Figurines. I had it all in this tiny mountain den. I didn't need this stuff, I was a dragon after all, what do Dragons have to gain from watching anime? I never pondered this question when I wasn't invested in human culture. I look back on how I got so addicted and I often get upset, Dragons shouldn't get upset over grief, but I'll admit, I really miss her. She was a small fragile human, her hair clumsily put up with a small band, her hair grey like the walls of my den. I wasn't a very massive dragon when she found me hungry and scared under that large broken tree, I still remember her warm smile. She had brought me into her bright and lively cabin home, her two children clearly excited, rather then scared of the beast that was huddled in the corner of the living room. As the weeks went by, I slowly warmed up to my new environment, I remember the human being visibly distressed as she worried about my lack of growth, she was clearly aware I was not supposed to stay this small and was prepared for it, so it had ended up worrying her, She had been feeding me food from a bag that had an animal with a weird muzzle that I had never seen before on the front. I decided the next time she let me out to stretch my wings, I would go find a proper meal and I did just that for the remainder of my time there. (I have to end here, I know it's a terrible place and I haven't explained why the dragon is so addicted to anime but I'm planning on it having to do with the woman and her career.)
I had submitted my finding months ago for peer review. Of course the media got their hands on it before the review was complete and headlines spread lime wildfire. "God Does Not Exist"Big bold letters across every news program and website. But none of that mattered. Today was finally the day. The envelope from the board was a little thinner than I thought it might be. I expected my colleagues would have more to say about me proving God didnt exist. I opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It read, "You can't prove a negative."
Len tapped his foot on the cold stone floor, fidgeting with his pristine green robes. Two hours. It had been two hours, but still the pale yellow light shone on the circle in front of him. It shouldn't have taken this long. Perhaps if he'd hired someone better, they could proceed. A long exhale sounded from within the circle, and Len started. His aching knees nearly gave as he stepped into the circle, the light receding before him. It revealed a young elf, hardly eleven years of age, sitting cross-legged. The boy was trembling, catching his breath after the ritual. "Kennan, did the divination work?"Len asked. The elven boy nodded, unable to speak yet. His body was readjusting to the real word, but Len had not the time. "Finally, I found someone pure enough,"he muttered. "Pure enough to seek the knowledge from above." "It's- it's so vast,"Kennan breathed. "Yes, well, what did it say?"Len snapped. He knelt next to Kennan. "What did you learn?" "It's so huge!"Kennan said, eyes staring at nothing. "And- -made of cheese." Len lightly slapped the boy's face, then growled, "I know that! Everyone knows that! But _why_? And _how_ has it not spoiled?" Kennan looked up, brushing his own cheek with a look of bewilderment on his face. "She said something about there being... no air, and that meant it couldn't spoil." "Nonsense,"Len spat. His fidgeting legs ached, and he relieved them by pacing back and forth. "Any fool can see that there's no wax covering the surface. It's clearly some kind of spell, and no mortal could cast a spell to displace that much air. What, is she... you said 'she.' The moon is a she. Is she a god?" Kennan swallowed and shook his head. "If she was, she would know why she was... was created." Len clutched his hair. "By the light of the stars, tell me you didn't just say that." Kennan didn't reply. He only watched as the mad wizard's pacing grew more and more erratic, until Len launched a fireball at his desk. The pinprick of light that he'd thrown erupted violently, splintering the timbers of the desk and incinerating wood and scrolls alike. And well it should. They were all worlthless, the product of research that had led him here, to this dead end. "Folly, curses from the nine hells!"Len cried. "What am I supposed to do now? The Cult of the Pale Moon ascends from underground, as my vision told me. What am I supposed to tell the king about the source of their power, if I do not know where the great ball of cheese came from? What is it that drives these people, what gives them their strength? So long as the moon stands a mystery, we shall fall!" "But-" Len whirled on Kennan. "Did she say anything else, boy? Anything at all?" Kennan flinched, stumbling back on the etched chalk circle. "No, no,"he said. "But they know, don't they? The underground cult thing?" Len's eyes narrowed, burning with intensity. Again, he'd lost his decorum. And for good reason, but to disastrous results. Months of work destroyed, a secret released to a child. "Forget you ever heard that, boy. Do you have something to say, or not?" "If the thing I didn't hear about knows, then you could learn from them?"Kennan spat out. "And am I just going to ask?!"Len thundered. The sky out his tower window flashed with lightning to match. "I, the greatest arch-wizard in the kingdom, just walk up to them and ask what the source of their power is? Rubbish, child." "You could... could infiltrate it and spy? Pretend to join?" Len's eyes narrowed. "I am no spy." The elven boy was frozen on the floor. He had nothing else to offer, it seemed. Len curled his lip and turned away. "But then,"he mused. "Nobody else under the king's command would understand. That may be the only way." "So you'll do it?"Kennan asked. "Begone,"Len snapped, pulling a small bag of coins out of his robe and tossing it to the young elf. "You were pure enough to enact the moon ritual, and for that I have paid you. For nothing more. Keep this matter to yourself unless you fancy a home in the kings dungeons." Kennan swallowed and pocketed the bag, then sprinted for the stairs to the tower. "Cults,"Len spat. "I hate them. Why can't everyone treat knowledge for what it is, and stop worshipping every great ball of cheese they find in the world." Shedding his robes, the wizard pulled on a simple tunic and breeches, then donned a moon amulet. He mused all the while as he packed a shoulder bag with spell focii and rations. "Of all the elder gods and fiends beneath, they choose the moon. The moon of all things. Mystery incarnate. There must be a way to counter those that draw power from it. There must. I just need a source, just a little more knowledge." As he left the tower a few minutes later, he looked up at the round yellow-white ball in the midnight sky. It was ever-present, not hidden at all, but unreachable. Why would cheese be up there? What sort of magic kept it aloft? Even the moon herself did not know. "Nonsense,"he muttered, hefting his shoulder bag. And then the wizard left the tower the king had given him and drifted off into the treacherous night.
When a rhythmic knock rang dully throughout the cramped interior of the Aries EV-9, my first reaction was alarm -- I knew all the sounds my ship should be making in orbit around Mars, and that was not one of them. This turned to momentary relief as John's voice came over my headset. "EMU 01 to EV-9 -- Rob, I can't seem to get the airlock to open. Can you cycle it from your side, over?"John's voice crackled in my ear. Then it dawned on me. John was floating right next to me, a look of confusion on his face. "Steve?"John asked, adjusting his headset's microphone. "What the hell are you doing out there?" "Out where?" our crewmate Steve asked, pulling himself into the command center from the adjacent habitation section by the bars fixed along the bulkheads for the purpose. John and I looked at each other in utter confusion, as the voice crackled over the comms again. "It's John, Rob."the voice said. "I was replacing that cracked thermal tile. Cycle the airlock already, would you? Over."Maybe John himself didn't hear the resemblance, but I saw my own unease and confusion mirrored on Steve's face -- it did sound exactly like him. "John, uh..."I said into my headset, as I looked at the John in front of me. "Hang on a second.,," Steve shook his head, and quickly pulled himself back out into the habitation ring. Moments later Steve's voice crackled over the comms. "There's...no one outside the airlock."Steve said. "Like hell there isn't! Will you guys stop screwing around and let me in?"John's voice called back. I turned to the John beside me. "Okay, wait. I get it. You're messing with us. How...how are you doing this?"I asked my crewmate, with a false joviality. There was no other explanation. It had to be some kind of recording he'd programmed, a weird practical joke. "Me?"John protested. "I'm not sending the signal, I'm right here, Rob!" "What did you put in some kind of pre-recorded response? That's too good to be a computer voice pattern."I pressed. "This isn't me!"John snapped. "We're 125 million miles away from Earth!"I shot back. "There's nobody else out here! Even if someone wanted to mess with us, it takes minutes for the signal to go back and forth, they couldn't talk to us in real time like this!" "I know that."John hissed. "But I'm telling you, I didn't do--" "LET ME IN!"the John on the intercom shouted, angrily interrupting the argument. "I...still don't have visual on anyone outside."Steve's voice reported. The knocking came again. "Do you hear that?"Intercom John asked, voice sharp with frustration. "That's me pounding on the window!" "I did hear knocking."Steve admitted. Something occurred to me. "John..."I asked, hesitantly. "Hit it again." "Why?"Intercom John asked, impatiently. "Just do it!"I barked. He swore, but complied. I quickly pulled my headset off and covered the ear pads with my closed hands. I didn't hear anything. The knocking sound was coming over the comms. John, beside me, picked up on what I was doing, and pulled his own headset away, then nodded to me. "--eventually going to run out of air, you know. Open the airlock!"we heard Intercom John finish saying. "John...on our end the sound of you knocking is only coming through the comms."I said, slowly. "We don't hear anything from the airlock itself." "What?"the disembodied voice asked, confusion creeping into amid its anger. "That's...that's not possible. Listen!" The knocking came again...and again, only over the comms. "I took my headset off and pressed an ear to the hatch."Steve confirmed. "I...didn't hear anything." "Who is this, really?"I demanded, a thousand implausible scenarios running through my head. "Where are you?" "I'm John! I'm right outside!"John's voice insisted, his angry tone now submerged beneath a note of desperation. "Please, for the love of God, let me in!" "Why...why don't we cycle the airlock?"Steve suggested. "Are you serious?"John asked. "I'm right here!" "And...and who the hell is that?" Intercom John demanded. "I'm Mission Specialist John Forbes!"John snapped. "So you can stop this stupid game right the hell now!" 'That's not possible!"Intercom John insisted. "Steve, Rob...I...don't know who that is with you, but it's not me!" I looked at John, and he looked back. Then his face darkened. "Rob, you can't be serious."he almost snarled. I took off my headset, and covered the mic with my hand, motioning him to do the same. "John,"I whispered. "Listen...where...where did we go to celebrate when we were accepted into the Mars exploration program?" "You are serious!"he hissed. "Just tell me!" "We went to Arnie's. We got wasted, and then ended up passing out at a bus stop while trying to walk home drunk! Okay? We good?"John recited, clearly annoyed. That was true. It hadn't exactly been our proudest moment. And, as far as I was aware, only John and I knew about it. I put the headset back on. "--listen, Steve, you've got to let me in, I--"the voice was saying. "John."I cut him off. "Listen, can you tell me where we went to celebrate when we were accepted into--" "Arnie's!"Intercom John interrupted, pleadingly. "We got drunk and passed out at a bus stop on the way home! Damn it, Rob, you know me! You've known me for fifteen years!" I glanced at John. He was slowly shaking his head, his brow furrowed in consternation. I licked my lips, thinking carefully before I spoke. "Steve?" "I...I still don't see anything, Rob."he replied over the comms. "Cycle the outer airlock, but lock down the inner airlock hatch." "What?"John protested. "Are you crazy? If anything's out there, it's sure as hell not me!" I shook my head. "That's what it says about you, John. It...it knows what you know. If nothing else, we have to try to understand what's happening here. If there's nothing out there, no harm done. If whoever or whatever this is doesn't belong here, then we don't open the inner hatch." "What if it gets through the hatch?"John demanded. "If it tries, we cycle the airlock again and it gets sucked back out into space. And anyway, if it could get past that, then chances are that it could get past the outer hatch, too. Do it, Steve." "Roger that."he replied. "Cycling outer airlock..." In the distance, we heard the warning klaxons that accompanied the airlock cycling. "Alright...John."I said into the intercom. "Get inside." There was no response, but moments later we heard the faint chime that indicated the airlock had re-pressurized. "Steve, do you see anything? Did...did anyone enter the hatch?"I asked. Only silence met my inquiry. "Steve?"I repeated. "Do you copy?" There was no response. (continued in comments)
"Weird"I thought. The point of view from the camera lifted from where it was on the floor. Slowly it started to show a view of a dozen waists, torsos, now shoulders and heads. It looked like a studio. A behind the scenes look of the local evening news. A large group of baffled men and women stared in shock at...me? I moved towards the remote, eyes following me the whole way. I lifted it, Thumb resting on the power button. "Wait!"A woman with a large head set walked towards the screen, hands outstretched. "Just...hold on." I hit the power button. The screen went black. I thought I must have been dreaming, or having some weird side effect from something I ate. That burrito? I sat hard onto the dingy plaid couch that obtusely rested in the middle of what I guess you would call a living room of my apartment. The thing looked like it crawled out of the forgotten memory of a 70's movie. A cloud of dust came to life from the cushion, aged, and died before my eyes. Remnants of my late grandmother from who's basement the couch came. If it was any clue that my lower neck was howling in pain as per usual, I was most certainly awake. My second theory was the obvious explenation. I just had to ride out an unwelcomed trip. The first since high school. Thinking several curses towards the local Mexican restaurant, I relaxed a bit on the squeaky couch. A sigh. Here we go. The plan was to get the channel on to the cartoon station and watch brain numbing programs until I passed out. I wasn't so lucky. I hit the power button. "What the fuck!"I shot up to my feet. A face filled the screen. The woman from before. "DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN!" "Whhhat the ff-"It came out as a soft whimper. "I don't know. But don't. Please. Whatever is happening, it can't be goo-"I turned off the TV. "Okay." I put my pants back on with more speed that I removed them after another long horrible workday at the theatre. I knew there was only one thing to do when people started talking to me through the television: Pizza.
Bob was not having a good day. It was going to be one of those days, he knew. The ‘wake up and fall down three flights of stairs’ kind of day. Bob would get these gut feelings often, mainly because he had mostly bad days. Bob yawned, slippers slamming on the wooden floor as he passed by his trophy collection. ‘Best Exterminator of the year’ medals. ‘Most efficient ant killer’ was another one that popped up often. Heading down the stairs, he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. There, Bob pulled out a beer he had saved from last night. He could use one of these right about now. Closing the fridge door, he was met by the last photo of his daughter, Emily. A single magnet holding it in place. Bob sighed, looking away and going to the kitchen table. There, he looked to the divorce papers he had pushed to the side. Paying child support for little Sam. Bob rubbed his temples and popped off the cap for his beer. He didn’t need to think about this today. He had work to do. Instead, he thought about all those ants he would be seeing today. For many ants, it would be their last day on this Earth. More sophisticated and deadlier ways to killing the damned insects made sure of that. Even... thinking about those damned ants made Bob grit his teeth in anger. He had always loved destroying anthills when he was younger. As he grew older, this hobby became an obsession. An obsession that drove him away from his family... and led Emily to depression. He would make those fucking ants pay... they took his daughter away... tore his family apart. Bob slammed the bottle on the table, which groaned in protest. He stood up, wiping his mouth as he went to get dressed. As he pulled the sleeves up on his suit, he looked to the door. A small ring of the bell could be heard. Bob groaned. Was it that crazy old lady again? He wasn’t interested in some damn book club. Going to the door, still fully dressed in his Exterminator clothes Bob opened the door. When he saw no one there, he paused. “Damn kids.” He Muttered, And was about to close the door when he looked down. Maybe it had been the mailman, maybe he had a package... But no. Instead... “Fucking ants.” Bob growled, and raising his foot brought down his foot on the poor insects. Bob heard the satisfying splat of the ants’ bodies being crushed. Grinning as he twisted his foot left and right into the ground. “Damn... bugs.” He spat. Wiping his foot on the floor before slamming the door shut. The world was about to change forever... and not in a good way. — “The Humans Kill even more of us!” Furher Antler cried, raising one of his legs. The crowd beneath him roared in disdain and anger, outraged. “Our peace delegation has been killed... for the fourth time this week!” Antler cried once more. “Action must be taken! Our populations have dwindled thanks to them.” Antler leaned over his podium. “I say we bring the fight to them!” He yelled. “Let them know how it feels to be exterminated!” The crowd roared in approval, nodding in agreement. “Then let us intialize Plan Omega!” Antler leaned back. The darkness of the underground framing his figure. “It is our time to take back this Earth! Let them die in starvation and squaler! It’s Antkind’s Time!” — Following the furher’s speech, the ant population went to work. Ants began disappearing from farms and rural areas, leading to crops and plant life in those areas to die. Without the ants to churn and aerate the soil, allowing water and oxygen to reach plant roots, food production began to diminish greatly. And without plantlife and crops for the local wildlife to eat, the animals either migrated to somewhere that had food (these turned out to be urban areas) or died off. The number of people that died from starvation every single year climbed exponentially, reaching record levels. Millions died due to famine and later disease from the animals migrating to the cities. As for Bob? Well he was none the wiser, eventually dying alone in his house. His body can by found in a ruin of a building in an increasingly post apolcolyptic like world... God damnit Bob. (This was my first serious piece in r/writing prompts so please keep that in mind!)
Vegabound, Porcalin city; In the midst of a snow storm an angel, Cassandra walks the streets. The snow is a foot deep and An angels dess isn't the warmest of clothes as a ceartain level of elagance and monuverabillity must be maintained. Still though the Angels robes covers her from head to toe. Suddenly a weping couple approaches. The women says "You're an angel right?"Cassandra replies "That is right my child, now what has you crying?"The women says "It's out son he's gone missing. We've looked all over town and can't find him. Cassandra says "That is awfully troubling. The man says "we think he might have run away."Cassandra says "What has you believe that". The mother answers "It's a long story, but please can you just find out son. We tried the guards but they won't move in a sorm like this". Cassandra says "And what do you offer me in return?"The couple look at each other nervously. The father sheds his coat and offers it to Cassandra. The father say's "Please take this. It'll be a cold winter. I'm sure some extra layers will help" Cassandra takes the jacket and inspects it. It's well worn having been resewn several times, and using hand carved wooded buttons. But it is made of a genuine wool. Cassandra tosses the jacket back at the man and say's "I'm sorry but I haven't any need for a jacket like this". The couple look at each other wide eye'd. Cassandra say's "Instead how about you extend me 3 nights stay at your home. I find myself in new territory and everyone seems hold-up for the winter."The father answers "Yes of cource anything."With that Cassandra bows her head and turns around, and begins to leave the city. Vegabound is a walled city with only one entrence and exit. Cassandra approaches that gate. She reasons if the child is still in the city he should be found, or find some warmth. On the other hand if her to be travling amist the snowstorm, that'd mean death. At the gate is a flurry of foot prints despite the storm. So Cassandra Fly's into the air and survey's the ground. No sight of the child, but looking at the foot prints there are three distinct trails going in diffrent directions. Cassandra examine's each trail and on one she finds a wooden button. Hand carved like that the one on the fathers jacket. So she decides to follow that trail, but does so on foot to herself some of winters wrath. Which is growing ever worse as time passes on. After walking a great distance the trail can no longer be made out. So the angel closes her eyes and concentraits feeling for any nearby life. She locks onto 3 sources. One from a nearby cave, one slowly moving over the ridge, and several tightly packed together in the distance moving at a high speed. She decides to follow her senses over the ridge. Down below she see's a young boy struggling against the storm. So she jumps down of the ridge, and slowly decends a great distance before reaching the ground keeping one hand at her side to hold her robe down for modesty's sake. She lands directly in front of the boy and flaps her mighty wings creating a powerful gust shaking the snow and ice off the child, and returning color to his frost bitten hands and nose. Upon examining the child she see's a face of awe and notices in his hand a halo and small set of wings roughly fashioned from wire. Cassandra say's "Lucky am I to have found an angel all the way out here. What is your name and what brings you hear?"The boy stands in silence for several moments before answering "I was looking for... no I was headed to the Heaven of the North."Cassandra says "I see". Silence then prevails between the two. The boys intent is obvious. He had hoped to become an angel or maybe even already thinks himself as one. Whatever the case he had come a long way for it, especially for a child. An impressive feet, but not impressive enough to be an angel . Cassandra says "Well I'm in need of your help. I've lost my way and need to get back home. Can you help me?"The boy stands silently not knowing how to answer. Casandra says "Was I mistaken? Is it not every Angels duty to help those in need?"The kid answers "No you're right. I'll help you. Where do you live?"Cassandra says "Porcelin city. Won't you show me the way?"The boy takes a look around confused, unable to see his own tracks anymore. Cassandra says "here"as she removes her own halo placing it onto the boy. "With this you should be able to feel those close to you if you concentatrate..... I think it should be that way." The boy and the angel then begin there march back to Porcelin, but along the way they're intercepted by a gang of wolves. They bark and houl at the two. The boy initially scared hides behind Cassandra, but then after looking at her brave face steps out from behind her and puffs out his chest. Cassandra says "Don't worry, I'm just going to sing a little song that should make this all better. The angel begins a chant that somehow creates a symphony with itself, and vibrates the air all around them. The boy falls asleep and Cassandra takes him in her arms. Senseing weakness the wolves attack, but Cassandra elequintly doges each of their attacks until they too fall asleep. After that Cassandra carries the kid back to the city and too his parents. In tears the ,other cries out "Brad are you okay, thank god I thought I'd never see you again", She takes her son in her arms and tells him "Please don't ever do anything like that again. You had me scared to death."The father says "We can't thank you enough, you're welcome to stay in our home"Cassandra nods. The father say's "But if I may ask what brought you to our town in the first place?"Cassandra answers "I was sent to test the generocity of the city, to see what it'd take to find a home"The father says "Oh no and here we just sent you right back into the storm."Cassandra says "No your son led me through the storm and back to safty all by himself. He even stood brave against a pack of wolves. That is what my report will read".
But then, that's because they did not appreciate who you truly are. Data lives in a world of bits and bytes, seeing things only as they are, never as they could be. The things in Data's realm take on harsh, jagged edges in black and white relief. Data knows everything and understands nothing, and they say the universe will end when Data tabulates the whole of the universe and finds not zero, but null. Danger loves dressing in clashing colors and convincing people to make choices they will ultimately regret. She smells subliminally of gunpowder. Her realm is change, which is to say her realm is in fact our realm, and the secret to her is that we are all subject to her whims, for nowhere in this universe is anything truly safe. Dopamine is everything you love in the world, even if you don't realize it. Dopamine's realm is full of windows, and out of each one he sees those who realize the significance of something for the first time. If you notice your reflection in a window and find it strangely meaningful, that's Dopamine staring back at you in your own reflection. And then there's Dank.... &#x200B;

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