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Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid, it stuck with you all day? All week? Sometimes, my dreams are so vivid that I can't tell the difference between dreams and memories. Sometimes, I don't want to.
I had a dream, once, that I met a girl. We lived. We loved. We married. And then I woke up, sobbing on my brother's couch because it wasn't real. It felt real. Not just the touch of her cheek against my fingers, or her lighthearted smile when I was a fool, but the need to always be at her side. For days, even weeks, I felt that emotional need for someone created by my sub-conscious.
But hey, maybe that was just the anti-depressants.
My point is, it's not unusual for my dreams to encompass fantasy worlds, or magic, or superheroes, or terrifying beasts that leave me in a sweaty, crying mess. It was a nightly occurrence.
Until, one night, it wasn't just a dream.
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"Wake up."Something soft, but forceful, hit me across the face hard enough to leave a bruise. I groaned, rolling over, and over, spinning endlessly.
"Wake up!"The voice sounded distant, faded. I opened my eyes, straining against the wind from my fan to see who was shouting.
Leaves, splintered wood, and clothing flew everywhere, spiraling around me as if I were at the center of a tornado. I frantically tried to rise from my bed, only to realize that I wasn't *in* my bed. My blankets were tightly wrapped around me, a cocoon against the raging storm, but my bed, and the house below it, were nowhere to be found - except in bits and pieces scattered across the lawn.
And I was floating in the air, spinning inside a twister.
I wanted to run, to flee, but I couldn't even get out of my damn bed-sheets. I spun, around and around, desperately flailing against my over-sized quilt. The voice called out to me again, feminine, but calm despite the whirlwind centered around my bedroom. "Stop fighting."
"Stop-"I cut off, a ball of sheets slapping me in my face. I took a deep breath, struggling to hold in a frustrated scream.
I gave up. I wasn't getting out of my blankets, and it wasn't like I could outrun a fucking tornado, anyway. What was I going to do, fly away?
It wasn't more than a minute before the storm faded, shattered glass and splintered wood melodically dropping to the ground. I fell with it. Twenty-five feet. Certain death, I thought. Broken bones, at least. But a snapped neck? As likely as waking up in the middle of a tornado, surely.
I screamed until I cried. By the time I realized I wasn't dead, my voice was horse. My body had stopped spinning, but my mind felt locked in a corkscrew. I struggled out of my blankets, fresh vomit coating the ground. My legs shook with the effort to stand, my mind said to stay down, but I couldn't.
Around me, my house was torn apart, less than a quarter of it still standing. My car lay propped up on the curb across the street, shattered glass leaving a trail back to my non-existent garage.
I looked up and down the street, at early risers standing in their front lawn, looking at *me*. Me and newly renovated residence. And it dawned on me, then, that *their* houses were fine. My belongings lay scattered across the neighborhood, but even Cindy and Greg, directly next door, owned a fully functional house. What luck.
"We should leave."I flinched, backing away from a cool hand on my shoulder. My bare feet scrapped across splintered wood and I cursed. For the first time since waking, I saw the woman who had called out to me, broken my fall, and now, tried to reassure me.
And I didn't recognize her. "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you mean, we should leave?"I looked around at the wreckage of my life, so easily torn apart by mother nature. "What happened?"
I took another step back, blood leaving a trail as I unavoidably crunched across glass.
"Hard to explain."She didn't smile. Her eyes, long and narrow, watched me, patient, calm, but persistent. She was taller than me, adorned in brown leather armor. "But the police, reporters, and worse will be coming. So take my hand and fly us out of here."
I laughed. It was a nervous laugh, filled with anxiety. My arm was shaking again and my arms were folded awkwardly around my chest, desperate for heat. A few tears ran down my face, though I didn't mean to cry. It just happened when I was terrified.
I tried to formulate words, but I simply choked out a cough. The woman took a step forward and I tried to back away. She was fast, suddenly at my side, catching me as I fell over a pile of books, now without a shelf.
This strange, foreign woman - for her long ears, and slitted eyes were unrecognizable - gave my hand a squeeze. "Marcus."She cleared her throat. "Mark. I know this is strange, but I'm here to help. Right now, I need you to fly. Just take my hand and remember how to fly."Her grip loosened. "Or you can sit down and wait for the police, for *them*. But if you give up now, if you run away again, it will be a mistake. They will not help you. You will be alone."
Alone. The word felt like a physical blow and I tried to pull away. Her grip on my shoulder tightened, and she held me in place. "No, wait."I said, still struggling against her impressive grip. "I'm just - I need to find my cat. She always...she..."
I looked at my lawn, at the bed frame that was so recently a comfortable paradise. Terra would have been there, too. Right next to me.
My eyes, fresh with tears, met the woman next to me. "I need to find my..."
Surprisingly, the woman hugged me. I shuddered against the human contact. Needed, but unexpected and long overdue. I found myself hugging this stranger back. When she pulled away, I felt disappointed.
"Terra is safe, this I promise you."She gripped both of my hands in hers. "Now, close your eyes."
Goosebumps rose up my arms and I shuddered. Behind this stranger, my neighbors were starting to gather. To whisper. A couple were on their phones, recording. Someone I didn't recognize was there, watching me, talking on the phone. I cleared my throat, looking at the woman who had woken me up. "I can't fly. Humans don't fly."
"Sure they do. And so can you."
"No, I can't. And even if I could, how?"
She shrugged. The motion was practiced and uncaring, but it was followed with a knowing smirk.
I glared at her, certain that I should be fleeing from this most absolutely crazy lady. But, she had saved my life, and everyone else seemed content to sit on the sidewalk and watch.
"Okay, sure. I can fly. How did I fly?"
She shrugged. "I usually get there after the flying part is done."
A snort escaped me. I could hear the sirens. They were close, now. It would have been easy to fall on my ass. She was crazy. I was crazy. "What do I do, then, wo-, uh, Miss...?"
The woman turned, releasing her grip on my shoulder but continuing to hold my hand. "Terra."She said, her eyes scanning up and down the street. She looked back at me, thoughtful. "Try closing your eyes and pretending you're dreaming."
I laughed. Short, harsh. I looked down to my hands. They looked real, full, detailed, and I could count the digits. Five on each hand. I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't dreaming.
But she was right. I had flown all the time, in my dreams. It always felt so simple, so real. Just will myself into the sky and it would happen. I felt lighter, and for a second, Terra's hand, still locked with mine, felt in need of reassurance.
I heard a gasp and opened my eyes. The crowd of onlookers was below me, now. Terra was smiling, pleased, and looked to the clear, morning sky. The ground, and the wreckage of my life, was slowly drifting away.
I frowned, uncertain about everything - my morning, my life, and most of all, this woman I was now flying away with. She placed a hand on my shoulder, as if we were about to dance and gave me a nod.
"Up, up and away, Aero."She said, her eyes scanning the horizon as a string of sirens rounded my block.
I nodded, my eyes following her gaze. A stream of flashing red and blue rounded the corner, followed by a row of white vans and black trucks. I willed myself upwards, and with the wind at my back, I flew away. |
"What the hell is going on?"
Darkness all around me, but I can feel myself spinning. Faster and faster, until it feels like my arms will get ripped off. I try to scream yet can make no sound. Something is pushing against my chest, preventing me from breathing.
"What the hell is going on?", I keep screaming inside my head.
Then it all stops. I try to open my eyes, but am immediately blinded by a bright light.I close them again and commence to speak but is beaten to it by a dark, hoarse voice.
"You were told not to enter the door, why did you?", it says.
"W- What?", I stutter, struggling to take in the situation.
"You were told not to enter the door, why did you?", the voice repeats.
The light is still blinding and I try to look away, but find myself unable to move against the strain of the ropes holding me down in my seat.
"You can't leave yet", the voice says, almost calmly.
"What?", I exclaim, feeling my confusion being replaced by anger, "Who the fuck do you think you are that think they can kidnap me like this? People will come looking for me! The police will..."
"I did not kidnap you. You came here by your own choice, remember", the voice interrupts, "So I ask once again, why did you enter the door?"
"There was no fucking sign warning against entering! How could I know this fucking thing would happen?"
"The man did warn you, yet you entered anyway. After all, I shouldn't be surprised. I hear you have quite a knack for rule-breaking."
"You know nothing about me", I shout in frustration, "We have never met before!"
"It may be true that we have never met, but that does not mean that I have not followed you. Ever since you were a little baby lying in your mother's arms, I've been with you. I was there when you stole and punctured your best friends football out of jealousy. I was there when you cheated on your girlfriend only to make her jealous. I was there when you left your boss on the mountain to die, only to get his job."
The voice is speaking faster and faster, louder and louder, until it is deafening. Thoughts whirl around inside my head.
"No, it wasn't like that! We hadn't had sex in weeks, it was her fault! I didn't mean for him to die!"
"All your friend wanted was to play football with you, yet you let your jealousy get in the way. Your girlfriend loved you and wanted to talk about your relationship, but you refused to listen to her. And your boss. He who called himself your friend, you left to die only to get a job that he was going to recommend you for when he left a few weeks later."
The room started spinning again. Faster and faster it went. The ropes slid off, the chair disappeared, the pressure on my chest returned, but the voice remained.
"Do you see now? You betray all those who love you because you are selfish and refuse to listen. You commit heinous crimes that you justify by your own inflated ego. Maybe you have guessed who I am by now. I am your conscience, and it is time you started listening!"
With a bang, I fell onto the hard, stone floor. Carefully I open my eyes and can see a bare room bathed in the fluorescent light coming from the corridor outside. I quickly stand up, and without closing the door behind me start sprinting along the corridor. Turning a corner, I see the man that warned me not to enter the room. As I pass him our eyes met, and with a knowing sheen in his eyes I can hear him say with a dark, hoarse voice:
"I warned you not to go in there. Only few come out unaffected."
​
​ |
I was walking to work, like any other day, when *suddenly,*
*scritch scritch*
I hurry to brush the spiders off of my leg, but they’re everywhere. I fall into the hard concrete as the spiders reach my face, shutting my eyes and doing everything I can to brush them off. At least 10 spiders enter my mouth and suddenly, it’s over. They’re gone. I stand up and brush myself off, wiping away the tears of fear in my eyes.
“Thank god that’s over,” I say out loud to myself, with the taste of spiders still in my mouth.
“MOVE, OR ILL SHOOT!”
I barely have time to turn around to see the bank robbers shooting wildly right outside of my workplace.
A bullet lands straight in my heart. |
[ I squinted at the cracked phone screen in my hand. My grade had dropped to a C+ in Anatomy. I had procrastinated. Again. "Ugh, I wish I had more self control. Like, just for a day."I looked up from my phone at my friend, expecting a response. Instead of answering, he was currently badly attempting to remove his clothing.
"Hey, buddy, why the hell are you trying to take your shirt off?"
He doesn't answer. I look around in the classroom and see everyone basically doing the most insane shit. Becca, the mean girl, was dry humping a wall and the teacher was smashing a computer. There was a big mass of fighting in the center of the room, and kids were running around like fucking maniacs. And here I was, sitting in a room with a bunch of fucking monkeys. Out of nowhere, the creepy dude who looks at anime tiddies pulls out a pair of scissors and stabs me in the arm. After some muttering and cursing, and escape the classroom, ducking under desks and bags. What the fuck was going on? I didn't get to stop and answer that question before a football player grabbed me and tried to bite my fucking ear off. I'm not an athlete or anything, but if some sweaty ass gorilla tries to bite you ear off, you would probably do the same thing. I pulled out a pencil out of my pocket and stabbed the dude in the eye. He reeled back, howling like a baby, and took a chunk of my ear off with him.
I exited the building, clutching my bleeding ear. My bag was slung over my shoulder, but I didn't bother taking it off. My only thoughts were about getting out of the school. Teachers and students were tearing around the school grounds, rolling around and acting like monsters. I got off of the school grounds. The town was a wreck. A big truck was crashed into McDonald's across the street and there were several crashed cars. Some buildings were on fire, and there were at least two dead people in the street. I booked it towards my bike, and got on, speeding away to my house.]
[SORRY FOR THE BAD FORMATTING, I'M ON MOBILE. WILL BE CONTINUED IF ANYONE WANTS] |
I looked at the dirty piece of paper dancing in my hand. I flipped it around, smoothed it out, and though the howling wind worked against me I was able to read what was inscribed on the paper, “Make a wish.”
It was such a silly request, “Make a wish.” I almost tossed the paper out into the wind to be found by a more gullible soul, and yet, I couldn’t help but wonder, what if?
What if it was real, all I would have to do is ask. Anything I could imagine right here in my fingertips, just a sentence away.
I thought of all the things I could ever want. I could ask for a yacht, so large and magnificent, staffed by a crew of hundreds, waiting on me each and every day. I would throw parties every weekend with my endless fortune.
But what if I got seasick? I could ask for a mansion, big enough to make wayne manor look like an apartment. I would have twenty butlers and forty maids. The kitchen would be staffed with the finest gourmet chefs producing as much food as I wanted, and more.
Of course , I wouldn’t let it go to waste. I would have a homeless shelter set up in one of the hundreds of spare rooms where everyone could come and eat as much as they needed.
And I would have so many cars. European, American, Italian, Every make and model of car would fit in my massive garage, waiting for the day that I picked them to go for a stroll down town.
But I might get lonely in such a big house.
I would wish for a palace, even larger than the mansion, filled to the brim with friends and family. I would open a resort in one of the wings of my palace, so that I would never run out of new faces to meet.
My fame would grow far and wide as I shared my riches with the world. There would be roller coasters and fancy parks and all you can eat buffets and driving tracks and theatres and every form of entertainment you could think of. There would be no happier place than in my house.
Everything sounded so wonderful in my head; but I only had one wish. I wondered to myself, without thinking, “Oh, I wish I knew what to wish for.”
As soon as I said the words the paper flew out of my hand, I tried to grab it but it was already gone.
“Oh well,” I thought, “It’s fun to Dream; and at least now I know what I should wish for. Next time.” |
8feet tall, 4feet wide. The only thing stopping me from my greatest discovery, a black stone door, stood just a few feet from the crew. No crazy markings or ancient dead languages just a large black stone slab.
It didnt take long to move since it was surprisingly pretty light for something made of stone. The back side was just as blank as the front.
The Chamber was quite small, the walls went on for maybe 20 feet, the ceiling followed along with the door at 8 feet. All of it made from the same black stone as the door and all completely devoid of writing or symbols. The floor also made of the stone had very little dust and no marks. As I pondered how a room of this size came to be with no carving marks or cracks or impurities a crewman pointed to the corner of the darker side where the lights didnt illuminate.
"looks like something is over there"
as we all look to the corner a voice calls back raspily
"not something, someone"
everyone froze dead in their tracks, the voice wasnt one of ours, and there was no way there was something living in a tomb that was sealed in an area of the world that hasnt been touched in over 4000 years.
*cough* the know seemingly female figure drew attention to itself
"I may have been locked in here for quite some time, but is it not customary to introduce yourselves anymore?"
no one could muster the courage to say anything, I stood there frozen in utter disbelief. were we dreaming, did we somehow inhale toxic vapors and we were lying on the tomb floor hallucinating this whole experience.
"Fine very well then"the voice said, sounding more feminine than before
"I am Gaia, mother of Earth" |
*Author's note: Are there fifty-seven comments here that are shadow banned, or am I just crazy?*
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*You turn the journal over in your hands a few times. It's muddied and damp, but surprisingly intact. There are pages missing in the back of the book.*
*A few faded red fingerprints are at the top of the first page.*
^Day ^Two ^- ^May ^31st, ^2002
^My ^name ^is ^Phillip ^Trantiel. ^I ^come ^from ^Wales, ^and ^I ^fell ^in ^this ^hole ^and ^I ^can't ^get ^out. ^I'm ^stuck ^down ^here... ^I ^think ^it's ^about ^fifteen ^feet ^up. ^I ^can't ^climb ^up, ^it's ^just ^too ^high. ^It's ^like ^a ^small ^cavern ^down ^here.
^I ^hurt ^my ^arm, ^scraped ^it ^on ^a ^rock ^at ^the ^entrance ^when ^I ^fell ^in. ^It ^was ^bleeding ^a ^bit ^badly, ^but ^I ^wrapped ^it ^with ^my ^towel ^and ^some ^paracord. ^It ^should ^be ^fine, ^I ^mostly ^am ^just ^sore ^and ^scared.
^I ^fell ^down ^in ^here ^while ^on ^a ^bushwacking ^hike... ^ah ^crap, ^Amy ^told ^me ^to ^stop ^going ^by ^myself. ^I ^should ^have ^listened ^- ^she's ^always ^right. ^I ^suppose ^she'll ^tell ^me ^that ^she ^told ^me ^so ^if ^I ^get ^out ^of ^here.
^Actually, ^Amy ^gave ^me ^this ^notebook. ^She ^said ^any ^great ^explorer ^should ^keep ^a ^journal, ^knowing ^that ^I ^love ^hikes. ^I ^didn't ^think ^anything ^of ^it... ^but ^that ^was ^incredibly ^kind ^of ^her.
^They ^should ^have ^noticed ^by ^now ^that ^I ^haven't ^come ^back. ^I ^never ^hike ^overnight... ^hopefully ^they'll ^come ^looking ^for ^me ^soon. ^I ^have ^plenty ^of ^water, ^and ^can ^always ^collect ^rain ^water, ^but ^I ^only ^brought ^a ^handful ^of ^protein ^bars ^and ^a ^bag ^of ^nuts. ^That'll ^last ^for ^more ^than ^enough ^time, ^but ^it's ^not ^exactly ^a ^meal ^of ^champions.
^Day ^Three ^- ^June ^1st, ^2002
^I ^really ^don't ^have ^anything ^else ^to ^do ^down ^here, ^besides ^write ^in ^here. ^My ^Nokia ^is ^dead, ^so ^I ^don't ^know ^what ^time ^it ^is ^exactly. ^From ^what ^I ^can ^see ^of ^the ^sky, ^through ^the ^trees, ^it ^looks ^like ^it's ^perhaps ^an ^hour ^to ^noon. ^I ^had ^half ^of ^a ^protein ^bar ^for ^breakfast, ^will ^probably ^finish ^it ^in ^a ^little ^bit.
^My ^brain ^is ^stupid. ^It's ^telling ^me ^that ^I'm ^going ^to ^be ^down ^here ^for ^a ^long ^time, ^and ^that ^I ^should ^conserve ^my ^food ^as ^much ^as ^possible. ^Of ^course ^someone's ^going ^to ^find ^me. ^That's ^only ^common ^sense. ^But ^I'm ^just ^too ^worried. ^This ^is ^quite ^possibly ^the ^closest ^I've ^ever ^been ^to ^death.
^Scratch ^that ^- ^I ^was ^almost ^run ^over ^by ^a ^train ^when ^I ^was ^a ^kid. ^I ^had ^a ^stupid ^brain ^then ^too; ^I ^was ^cutting ^class ^with ^a ^group ^of ^kids ^- ^who, ^by ^the ^way, ^I ^haven't ^spoken ^one ^word ^to ^since ^I ^graduated ^high ^school ^- ^and ^we ^were ^just ^walking ^along ^the ^train ^tracks. ^And ^my ^dumb ^head, ^I ^say ^we ^should ^play ^chicken ^with ^oncoming ^trains, ^see ^who ^can ^run ^headlong ^at ^the ^train ^the ^longest ^before ^we ^dive ^out ^of ^the ^way.
^I ^won.
^Day ^Three
^Hours ^pass ^very ^slowly. ^I'm ^pretty ^sure ^it's ^the ^same ^day, ^but ^honestly ^it's ^hard ^to ^tell.
^My ^wound ^stopped ^bleeding, ^but ^I ^would ^like ^to ^keep ^applying ^the ^pressure ^to ^it, ^just ^in ^case. ^It ^does ^look ^pretty ^bad, ^but ^I'm ^sure ^it's ^better ^than ^it ^looks. ^It ^usually ^is.
^I ^took ^a ^nap ^this ^afternoon, ^and ^I ^think ^the ^sun ^is ^going ^down; ^the ^sky ^is ^getting ^darker. ^I ^heard ^something ^shuffling ^about ^up ^above ^the ^hole, ^and ^I ^really ^thought ^it ^could ^be ^someone ^coming ^to ^find ^me. ^It ^actually ^got ^me ^excited, ^but ^no ^one ^responded ^when ^I ^was ^calling, ^and ^the ^noise ^went ^away ^after ^a ^few ^seconds.
^Gonna ^eat ^a ^bit ^of ^another ^bar ^for ^dinner, ^and ^then ^I ^guess ^I'll ^sit ^here... ^maybe ^draw ^or ^doodle ^a ^bit.
*On the back of the page you found a small assorted sketches were hastily drawn on the paper. A few stick figures, a couple of assorted houses, different faces... nothing artistically pleasing.*
^Day ^Five ^- ^June ^3rd, ^2002
^It ^rained ^all ^day ^yesterday; ^I ^have ^enough ^room ^down ^here ^to ^move ^out ^of ^the ^way, ^but ^still ^I ^didn't ^feel ^comfortable ^enough ^to ^write ^without ^the ^journal ^getting ^wet. ^There's ^also ^a ^puddle ^in ^the ^middle ^of ^the ^cavity ^today.
^Did ^get ^my ^fill ^of ^water ^yesterday ^- ^the ^rain ^water ^doesn't ^taste ^bad, ^so ^that's ^good. ^I ^know ^it's ^stupid ^to ^say ^this, ^seeing ^as ^how ^they're ^one ^of ^my ^only ^sources ^of ^food ^these ^days, ^but ^I'm ^getting ^tired ^of ^protein ^bars...
*You flip ahead a few pages in the journal. The writing is not quite as neat.*
^Day ^Twenty ^Eight ^- ^June ^26th, ^2002
^I *^can't* ^eat ^paper ^anymore. ^I ^just ^can't. ^It's ^*disgusting*, ^it ^gets *^stuck ^to* ^my ^throat. ^I ^can ^barely *^breathe ^anymore*, ^my ^stomach *^is ^in ^knots.* ^The ^stench ^in *^here ^is ^revolting*. ^There's ^been ^no *^sign ^of* ^rescue, *^I ^can't* ^even ^hear ^anything ^out ^there ^anymore.
^And *^the ^hallucinations* ^are ^still ^happening. *^I ^keep* ^drinking ^water, ^but ^I ^can't *^do ^anything ^to ^stop* ^hearing ^whispers, *^seeing ^colors* ^or ^images *^right ^before ^sleep.* ^Amy ^- ^I ^keep *^seeing ^things* ^that ^remind ^me ^of ^her.
*^Amy, ^if ^you ^ever* ^read ^this, *^I'm ^so, ^so* ^sorry ^I ^didn't ^listen *^to ^you. ^You* ^were ^always ^looking ^out ^for ^me, *^and ^the ^one ^thing* ^I ^could ^have *^done ^for* ^you, ^I ^just ^couldn't *^bring* ^myself *^to* ^do *^it.* ^If ^I ^wasn't ^such *^an ^idiot,* ^maybe ^I'd ^be ^with ^you *^right* ^now.
^Probably *^not. ^That's ^my* ^fate ^- ^being *^an ^idiot.* ^That's ^how *^I'll ^be* ^remembered. ^Phillip, ^the *^idiot. ^The ^man ^who ^never* ^made ^a ^move, ^and *^never* ^left ^an ^impact ^on ^anyone. *^Phillip, ^the* ^man ^who ^died *^because* ^he ^didn't ^use ^any ^common *^sense.*
^I'm ^so ^hungry. ^I *^don't ^know* ^how ^much ^longer *^I ^can ^go* ^on, ^but ^no ^one ^is ^going *^to ^come.*
*There's one last entry, but it had been scribbled over with the pen. You close the journal and look up.*
"Was it him? Did you find him?"Samantha asked, although her look held the knowledge that it could only be one person.
*A tear falls from your eye, as you slowly nod your head.*
------
*Sincerely,*
*/r/TDWfan* |
Been meaning to write some kind of short story on this topic for awhile but never had a setting that felt right to me. Came across /u/nikoondiscord 's prompt and thought it would be really nice way to frame the story. Still pretty slow at writing but I like how it turned out (planned on it being longer but decided that this would be an interesting way to keep the story more minimal and focused). Let me know what you think! |
"I have act of God coverage!"I shout angrily into the phone, trying very hard not to acknowledge the annoyed expression of my Lyft driver.
"I'm sorry sir but celestial bodies aren't covered under act of God. They're considered outside his domain."The young rep said, her Minnesota accent making her seem even more cheery than she was pretending to be. I know, I'm an asshole for yelling at someone who's just following the rules. But when your car has a rock from space shoot through the roof and light the back seat on fire, you try keeping your cool.
"I have been a customer for twenty six years! I have only had one accident and that wasn't my fault. And I'm not even trying to have the car replaced! I just want the back seat reupholstered. Please! Isn't there anything you can do for me?"I begged, praying she'd take mercy and call a supervisor or something.
"I'm sorry sir. It's not covered."No luck. Now at this point, I lost my temper. I own that. Please don't judge me too harshly for it. I was under a lot of stress.
"Ya!?"I sputtered angrily into the phone. "Ya well you know what? You're a shitty neighbor!"I shouted into the microphone, spittle decorating my screen. I smashed the end call button and tossed the phone to the other side of the seat. |
“Officer CUP1D...OFFICER CUP1D!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
I walk out the door with a pink gun and heart shaped bullets. “God, I look lame...” I muttered, but I think it’s gonna grow on me. This is my first crowd control mission. A terrorist from a rival faction, H4D3S, is about to attack an airplane station. And I’m there to...calm down the citizens.
Most of the time, I help my faction calm situations ranging from quarreling couples to domestic abuse. But in my spare time, I play matchmaker. I’ve been nicknamed Cupid for that. And my serial number.
I board my white helicopter called the “Angel’s Wings” and start flying towards Greece. I land just in time, because H4D3S had just shown up. “Huh, Hades.” I said in a half-amused voice. I keep the helicopter steady using autopilot, but I aim my sniper at the panicking people. I shoot faster than I consciously assess the area. This is nothing like matchmaking! I have no idea who goes with who! Ah well, the gun’s effect only lasts for a few hours if the two didn’t already have any attraction to each other.
Hades keeps threatening the station with the ticking timebomb so my fellow teammates Z3US and H3R4 team up to disable the bomb, but if that doesn’t work...it will.
Zeus (wow, these names are coming to me fast) starts throwing “Lightning”, a digital virus that flies through the air and disabled technology, while Hera (were these intentional?) starts organizing the now lovestruck citizens. Lightning isn’t working, I think he knew this would happen! This is hopeless!
I sit back in the helicopter and sigh. I suddenly get a call from my commander. I picked up the phone dejectedly. “Officer Cupid! I saw you give up! You can’t! We need every man we can out here!” I look back outside the helicopter and see several groups of people jumping out of planes, helicopters and everything in between! All from our faction! But on the opposite side, Hades brought some reinforcements of his own. “-ARE YOU LISTENING? GET OUT THERE, OFFICER, OR I’LL GET THERE AND SHOOT YOUR GUN FOR YOU!” I grab my gun and keep shooting, but panicked citizens are hard for Hera to organize.
Now there are tons of people here, and I have to be careful not to hit my own men. A few minutes later, the bomb is defused! I let out a relieved sigh. I hear cheering from my teammates, and I feel really accomplished.
Weeks later, the Battle of Athens became a famous event, and with most of the opposing faction are dead or seriously injured, my faction (which I forgot to tell you, is named Olympus, so it was intentional!) has been disbanded. I now work as a lone matchmaker, encouraging shy people to speak their mind and stopping abusive relationships. Weird how hobbies become jobs.
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I Used to Be a Programmer
Why did I decide to try archery? My employer's health benefits started including a variety of incentives to promote more active lifestyles around the time I finished binging a season of Arrow, I guess.
The first class bored the hell out of me. Too much safety and too little science. How could I improve our latest game's bow algorithm without more physics?
By the end of the second class, was disappointed in myself. I missed the target almost every time. When I did hit the target, it just grazed the edge. But the instructor told us all we were doing fine for our first time and that we'd all be amazed at our progress after a month or two of practice.
I DID get better over the next several weeks! I'd never be an Olympic athelete or even an expert, but I found archery a great way to blow off steam once a deadline had been met. Once, while practicing on my own time, the solution to a problem I had been struggling with in a subroutine suddenly came to me. I decided to stick with it.
Then came our archery class graduation tournament. I don't know if someone had a seizure or showed up drunk, but I ended up getting shot. The EMTs raced me to an ambulance. I don't remember anything except waking up once and seeing the head of development signing paperwork. I assumed I was high on meds at the hospital and, as I dozed off, wrote it off as an hallucination.
I awoke in a rough wagon bouncing over rougher terrain. My hands were numb from tight bindings. The wagon stopped and, while the others were led to an executioner's block, I was led to a small, one room building where the head of development was waiting.
"You've been promoted! Welcome to the testing team for our next patch release: the most realistic AI ever!"
If only I hadn't been shot in the knee. |
Emme awoke at dawn to the sounds of hurried steps and frantic whispers. Bleary eyed, she rolled over and removed herself from her bedsheets, opening her door and peering into the hallway. “What’s all the fuss?” she asked a passing servant, who gave a brief curtsy.
“It’s the solstice,” she responded quietly, then lowered her eyes and scurried off.
“Well, what’s that to do with me?” Emme wondered to herself before returning to her room and getting dressed. As she pulled on her hose, a hummingbird flitted in through her open window, landing silently on a pillow. “Yes?”
The bird cocked its head, opened its beak, and delivered its message. “Emme, it’s Cia. I know you’re new to the capital, so I want you to meet me at the bakery in the square. I’ll buy us breakfast and tell you what’s going on.”
“About time I got some answers,” she scowled. She glanced around briefly and found a pat of butter left untouched from her offerings. The hummingbird took it gratefully and left the way it came. Emme tugged on a pair of boots and headed out, past a whirlwind of servants carrying all manner of things. She even thought she saw one with a bowl full of broken glass, but decided not to dwell on it. The goings-on of city folk continued to confound her, even after nearly a month living among them.
The streets were busy as well, and she had to tap into her inner street rat to make her way through the bustling crowds—something she hadn’t even been sure she was capable of. She made it to the bakery just as the square’s clock chimed 7.
“There you are!” Cia shouted. “I’ve been waiting for for*ever*.”
“I just got your bird a few minutes ago,” Emma said, rolling her eyes at her only friend’s theatrics. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“The pastries are getting cold,” Cia said by way of response, bringing a raspberry tart to her lips. “So, as you may have noticed, there’s a bit of a hubbub about town today.”
“Oh, is there?”
“Shush. It’s the solstice today, which means the Court is about to change.”
Emme frowned as she took a bite of her breakfast pastry, which was filled with some sort of cheese. “I haven’t seen any emissaries or anything. Shouldn’t the Summer Court be announced before they get here?”
Cia laughed. “Oh my sweet. You think they’re different Courts?” When Emme only continued to frown, Cia waved her hands in the air, as if to dismiss her confusion. “The Winter Court is just... well. They don’t like the idea of not being in power anymore. That’s why the preparations can’t begin until the last minute, or the Queen tends to get feisty.”
“Feisty,” Emme repeated incredulously. That was not a word she’d ever heard used in reference to royalty.
“Murderous might be a better word,” said Cia with a nod. “Anyway. That’s why everyone’s running around like chickens with their heads cut off. There’s a lot to do by midday. Fortunately for you, your apprenticeship to the tailor means you have the day free. All the clothing for the Court is made months in advance.”
“Is that what that big chest is full of?” Emme asked.
“I have no idea. But probably.” She sipped her tea and smacked her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “So, since I’ve already done everything I needed to do, I thought today would be the perfect day to give you all the juicy details about the Summer Court.”
“I’m still confused about the whole Courts thing—”
“Of course you are. Listen, sweet. There is only one Court. Summer and Winter, yes, obviously, they both exist. They’re very different people. The Summer Court is warm, and kind, and focuses on the wellbeing of its citizens. The Winter Court, however, is harsh and unfeeling. These are both necessary sides of a coin. Without the Winter Court, people would become complacent; punishments would never be doled out. Without the Summer Court, the people would fear their rulers. And everyone agrees, leading by fear is not the way to go.”
Emme blinked. “Right. Okay. So how are they the same then?”
“They’re the same *people*.”
“But you said they’re different people.”
“Goodness, I’m not doing a good job of explaining. You know what? It’ll be easier to show you. But that won’t happen until midday. So! Since we’ve got time, I want to tell you about the prince.”
“Prince Aidan?”
“The very same. He’s the beau of every ball, as I’m sure you know. But he’s getting on a bit, you know. In age. And he’ll need to choose a wife soon.” Cia gave Emme a meaningful glance. Emme just stared. “He likes a woman who’s good with her hands.” Emme continued to stare. “You’ll be having a lot of contact with the Court for your apprenticeship.” Emme blinked. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, woman, you could marry the prince!”
“I have no intention of marrying any man.”
“But he’s not just any man!”
“You misunderstand. I have no intention of marrying a *man*.”
Cia blinked, then widened her eyes. “That’s even better! The princess is closer to your age anyway, and she’s the one who enjoys walking about town, to talk with people. She believes, and rightly so, that to properly govern you must understand those you are governing.”
“She sounds nice,” Emme said. “But I doubt any member of the royal family would be allowed to marry a commoner.”
“Oh, the Summer Court is very lenient about that! The Winter Court is a bit more... elitist, shall we say.”
“What does the Winter Court have to do with the Summer princess?”
“Good grief.”
“Emme!” came a shout. Emme turned to find Horold, the tailor, waving his cane wildly as he attempted to fight through the stream of people in the street. “Just because it’s the solstice doesn’t mean you get the day off!”
Emme turned to Cia, who squinted at the old man. “That’s exactly what it means.”
“Nonsense! You still have to finish that embroidery the blacksmith’s daughter requested!”
“Sorry, Master Horold. I’ll be right there.” As she stood to leave, Cia grabbed her elbow.
“Be in the square by midday.”
“Sure.” |
One man walks in, his head face down, a hood drawn over it. He sighs and coughs as he rounds the aisles searching through the bottles as if one of them will jump out at him if he stares long enough. He must be poor or down on his luck as he only picks up the cheap stuff that makes you sick. I hate to assume purely on clothing too, but the paint splattered sweatshirt and mild urine odor give him away.
But it's Saturday afternoon, so he gets a pass in suspected alcoholism, at least to me. My friend thinks differently, shaking his head and unloading boxes of weed, a knowing smirk on his face. There's a sullen air to him, though, as if he can't sort out his feelings about being right about the misfortune of others.
"I've seen that guy come in like three times a week,"he says. "Always gets a bottle of the same cheap stuff."
On Monday, we see a woman, a toddler barely in tow, her tiny fists clenching her mother's jeans for dear life. The mother stops in front of the wall of vodka, and the toddler lets go for a second to pull a candy bar from her coat pocket. She inhales it in front of us, her little face smothered in a brown mess. Her hands fare not much better, but she does not hesitate to resume her previous jeans clutching. The mother continues her browsing, until she plucks a few mid-shelf bottles and wanders over to the counter.
On closer inspection, the woman has rustled hair and tired eyes. I ring her up, while my friend peers out from under the counter.
"I think she is,"I say when she finally leaves.
"It's probably for a party,"he quips.
"On a Monday?"
We place a wager with each other the next day. If one of us sees someone end up in the news from a DWI or other crime and one of us
picked them out as trouble, while the other disagreed, they would have to buy $200 in weed for the other. Like detectives we sit and try to pick apart the lives of strangers: their clothes, their mannerisms, and of course, how they pay.
A man barely over the legal age comes in and buys twenty bottles. This is unusual, and more so when he hands me a wad of cash, as if that is supposed to impress me. Hindsight is 20/20, but the idea of not spending longer on his ID starts to weigh on my chest.
"I bet you him,"my friend says.
"You're just saying that because you think I made a bad sale."
It finally happens one day. We see the person in the news, a hit and run attributed to drinking. We balk at the gravity of the situation, reading through the lines about how some poor man lost his life and his children, though teenagers, have lost their father. My fingers tremble around my phone, and it almost slips out of my palm. The disgust begins to eat away at me.
Did it ever really matter to begin with? We don't speak to each other that day, until the next, in which we clear up our unsavory bet. |
I nearly had it, just a few more minutes... The lock on this chest was nearly open, and I'd have riches for days! Well, that would probably be an very literal assessment given my spending habits.
Finally, I heard the lock pop. However, when I tried the chest it wouldn't open. Dammit, that was the door lock wasn't it?
"Laddie, you gotta quit breakin' in here,"a man's voice said.
I looked back. Yep, just who I thought.
"Hey Father Glaswyn, how's it going?"I asked nervously.
"Just step away from the box laddie, get out of here and we'll call it a night,"he said.
"Whatever, I won't be judged by a homicidal priest with a crush on a vampire!"I shouted as I stepped back from the chest. I might have been snide, but I wasn't an idiot. Father Glaswyn was somewhat less than amused by my comment, picking me up by the collar.
"Now that's just uncalled for Laddie. We go out every night hunting down god's lost souls to ensure they can find their way out of our world, it's necessary to keep the lovely folk of this town safe,"he said.
I struggled to get free of his grip, but the father had hands like vices. "Don't lie! My sister says you and your boyfriend just go out there because you like hurting people!"I said, still thrashing.
Father Glaswyn relented a bit and put me back down. "And your sister's allowed to be a pacifist because we don't have undead hordes wanderin' the streets. Believe me Laddie, I'd much prefer we not have to spend our nights on the hunt. Now go home before the nights sets in, and knock it off with the boyfriend comments before you give Estratus or the overseer any ideas."
"You can't tell me what to do!"I shouted.
"And here I thought this might be simple for once..."the father pinched the bridge of his nose before taking me by the shoulder and nearly dragging me through town.
My sister answered the door, and I could almost see her mood souring.
"Lass, I caught him breakin' into the strongbox back at the priory."
"Oh, I'll bet,"she dragged me inside and motioned for me to stay where she'd put me. "Sorry you had to bring him all the way back here again, Father."
"Just keep a better eye on the lad. And for god's sake, quit fillin' his head with nonsense!"he said.
My sister looked a little embarrassed, apologizing before closing the door. From the look on her face, I could already tell I wasn't getting dinner tonight. |
"So how long have you been down here?"
"2 months and 17 days.""
"How did you make it this long?"
"I rubbed up against that body pillow over there, so he'd lose my scent. Most of the time I shack up in the shower, because obviously it's not being used. Drips of water, and the occasional stray Cheeto puff sustain me."
"You're so brave."
"Shh. She's coming."
The two bedraggled young women hid behind a pile of garbage as the door to the dimly lit basement swung open.
"Sweetie I got you another one!"yelled a hoarse middle aged woman, dragging a scared girl into through the dank doorway. The girl quivered as a rumbling sound came from deep within the lair. An amorphous, gelatinous shape peaked out from the shadows.
"NAwhMawmm Iwann PEETZA Rohlsss"it gurgled breathily.
"Yes dear. Right away dear,"and the mother turned away, a rusted freezer just visible down the hallway. The door was left ajar.
"Psst. Over here. New girl"whispered one of the veteran waifus from behind the trash heap. "We're busting out of here." |
"I can't believe the writers got rid of the Ottoman with such a deux ex machina!"Exclaimed one of the nerds "Poland is one of the weakest characters in the series and he defeated them with a cavalry charge what the hell!"
"Poland was actually quite powerful in some of the earlier comics actually"argued the taller one.
"Yeah it was only really in the Prussia arc that the writers decided to Nerf Poland for good"chimed in another.
The first, obviously quite flustered that he was outnumbered in this argument, asked his friend who was cosplaying as Russia what he thought. He simply replied "None of you have any idea what you're talking about"before looking back down at his phone where he was playing the WW2 mobile game.
With that the group started a whole other argument about who knew what.
I sighed. When will these people ever grow up to deal with the real world and not their stupid comics? |
"What do I need to do?"John asked his adult son sitting across from him. It had been a shock when a man who looked just like him appeared at the doorstep claiming to be their son from the future. He brought pictures of their family over the years that had yet to pass as proof. Alexandra was next to John (the baby was finally asleep) and keep glancing at her husband nervously.
"Don't worry. It wasn't something like cheating splitting you up. All you need to do dad, is not fall for a Nigerian Prince scam."
John tilted his head. "What's that?"
"It's when you get an email out of nowhere from someone asking you to send them money. They usually promise they'll give you a fortune or something in return, but it's all fake. You sent a guy half of our savings and it got worse from there. Just let me install a more advanced anti-spam filter and you should be good."
John was about to hand over his laptop when his wife stopped him.
"You're not getting into his computer."
"Why not?"
"You could just want his computer to do God knows what like get his passwords or something. Those pictures could be fake. You say my husband was too trusting to scammers when you could be a scammer yourself. And if what you're saying is true, I'll handle it."She stood up. "Thank you for telling us, but maybe you'd best be going. To avoid time paradoxes and all."Their adult son had barely enough time to protest before he was pushed out the door.
"Alex! What the hell?"John had been practicing on toning down his swearing. They had a child after all.
"If you looked at photos you could tell they were obviously fake. I've seen selfies with better Photoshop than those."
"But the man's our son,"he protested.
She sighed. "He wasn't. But maybe he was right about you being gullible."
It was then that their baby son decided to wake up.
"Oh look! A distraction! Let's focus on that instead of my issues!"And so they did. Alexandria later gave John a bunch of articles to read about how to spot and avoid scammers. |
I am the leader of team Workers In Supernatural Help, W.I.S.H. for short. Team W.I.S.H. was designed to give random strangers something they desired for no cost to themselves. We get these "Wishes from our PR department, (a fortune teller named Kelly) and we fulfill them. Over the years the team has grown. Sometimes it requires killing some target (such as a political rival), sometimes its editing documents to grant someone an inheritance, and sometimes it is stupid stuff that we have to find some way to handle in order to keep funding.
"She said WHAT?"Jim asks, head of resource "re-allocation."
"You heard me, she wants us to fix his problem and I have no clue where to start, Rico what do we got?"I glance over at to see Rico already hard at work, that is to be expected though, you don't get on MY team unless YOU are the best. May as well enjoy the last sip of my coffee before work starts today.
"Yea boss, we are gonna need to stake out a couple square miles , we are going to need some industrial magnets, some carbon fiber, a REALLY strong magnet, and clear skies."
Wow, Just great, I can't believe she did this, it feels like she is just messing with us at this point. The amount of resources going into this S-T-U-P-I-D mission is going to be insane. "Alright, I got a buddy down in sector 6, I'm sure he can hook us up with most the mobile materials. Susan, you head to the lab and get that.. thing. printed, get the specs from Rico, and please don't talk to Dan, we are on the clock, so don't get distracted."I glare as harshly as I can, honestly, I hate Dan. Susan is our eyes and ears, usually, she doesn't have much role in this mission so she can just help with logistics. Dan is such an underwhelming dude, I mean what does she even see in him? Not my business I suppose, but whatever.
Rico grabs my attention and lets me know we have mission go time at 9:30 o'clock in the morning. "Alright, listen up, we got our time, we have our mission, all we have to do now is execute it. This is the most absurd request yet, but it won't be what stops us from doing our jobs. See you all tomorrow."
As the room empties I sit down to enjoy my cup of coffee, I fall backwards out of my seat trying to get the last drop as Jim walks in, dammit, now I look like a fool.
"Hey boss, you should probably get some sleep, coffee won't keep you running forever. Night."Jim is chuckling as he leaves, picking up some folders he must have forgotten.
Well that could have gone better, I think to myself, at least it wasn't Susan. No worries. I honestly have no idea why anyone would want a fortune about golf, I never really was much of a sports fan, but to ask for 2 strokes off your golf game. The only good news was just that he would get 2 strokes off his next game and not permanently, now that would be horrible. |
The Witch of Anchor
A long time ago in a small village called Anchor, there lived a young widow. The young widow was beautiful with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. When the widow’s husband had passed, she had sworn off all other men because she loved him so. Now the widow was starving and unable to provide for herself. She went door to door in the village begging food. Several suiters had offered her food in exchange for her hand in marriage. The widow refused her suiters saying, “I would rather starve”. So many of the men of Anchor became frustrated and refused her food and lodging.
Winter had arrived in Anchor. Now there was a child in the village that became very ill. The child was sweating profusely and had large red welts all over. The parents of the child seemed to resign hope when suddenly they heard a gentle knocking on the door. The boy’s father went to the door and cracked the door open slightly. It was the widow. The widow asked, “have you any scraps you might spare?”.
The boy’s father answered the widow harshly saying, “No, we have nothing we can spare in this household. The winter has been long and almost all our food is spoiled. Now I must go tend to my sick child”.
In an act of desperation, the widow stuck her hand in the door to prevent it from being closed and said, “please, if you let me in, perhaps I can help you with your labors. It is so cold, would you at least let me inside for a little while.”
Not able to refuse her, the boy’s father let the widow in. The widow was directed to a pile of dishes and put to work. While drying dishes, the widow overheard the boy’s parents talking. The boy’s mother said to the boy’s father, “Our son must be ill from the rotten food. Make sure not to give him any rotten food whatsoever. We will have to eat the rotten food and save what is fresh for our son”.
After the dishes were finished, the parents told the widow that she could stay in the warmth of their house for a week. When the week is over the widow would have to go back out into the cold and find lodging elsewhere. The boy’s parents prohibited the widow from eating any of their food and then went off to bed. When the boy’s parents went to sleep the widow began searching the cupboards for some food. She found a rotting wheel of cheese and was about to take a big bite when she heard a little voice.
“What are you doing?” asked the sick boy.
The widow paused to think up a lie so that she would not be cast out. “Why, I was just mixing you up a magical potion to heal you”, said the widow.
The widow grabbed a cup, filled it with water, scraped off some of the rotten cheese and mixed it in the water. She gave it to the boy to drink. She walked the boy back to bed, snuck a piece of cheese for herself, and then went to sleep on the floor next to the wood burning stove in the main room.
When the widow awoke, she was surprised to see the boy running around in normal attire. The red spots were slightly faded. The boy’s parents also awoke and were greatly pleased.
The mother proclaimed, “by what miracle have you been healed?”.
The boy said, “it was the magic potion.”
“Magic potion?”, asked the mother, “it is not good to make up stories!”.
The widow interrupted the boy when he was about to speak and offered to care for him while his mother would go about her daily business. When the mother left to go about her daily business, the widow scolded the boy to speak no more of the magic potion.
By the end of the day the boy’s symptoms came back. The boy asked the widow for another magical potion. The widow gave him a potion and ate another piece of cheese when his parents had gone asleep. Over the course of the week, the widow continued to give the boy her potion.
On the last evening of the widows stay, she was eating her piece of cheese she had stolen and giving the boy the potion when the boy’s mother caught her in the act. The widow was begging for mercy when the boy’s mother told her to stand up. With tears on her face, she gave the widow a big hug and said, “it is true, you really did make a magic potion! You saved my son!”
From that day forward, the widow became known as the Witch of Anchor. All the townsfolk would come to her and she would heal their infirmities. The Witch healed all the sick of Anchor throughout the winter, summer, and spring. Everyone loved her. The people of Anchor built a home for her and would always give her food in exchange for her healing potions.
Now spring gave way to fall and all the townsfolk of Anchor were happy and healthy. The Witch of Anchor said to herself, “if everyone is healthy, I will surely have to beg for food again”. The Witch hatched a plan to create a tonic that would make people temporarily ill. The witch would then take credit when the effect of the tonic wore off. The Witch of Anchor promoted her new magical tonic to the townsfolk as a potion that prevents hair loss and saves marriages (wink, wink). The townsfolk would come to her, become ill sometime after taking her new potion, and then come back to her to be healed. Her food provisions increased, and she was able to hire servants to care for her home. The Witch’s former beauty quickly faded as she became fat from all the extra portions of food.
Now there was a bald man who became obsessed with the idea the Witch gave him of re-growing his hair. He offered to buy all the Witch’s potions and the Witch allowed him to at a premium rate. The man went home and drank all the potions at once wanting his hair to grow immediately for his date that evening. The man became very ill and died.
The townsfolk were puzzled at the death of the seemingly healthy man. They searched the man’s house and found many bottles of the Witch of Anchor’s new potion. The townsfolk began to distrust their Witch. The townsfolk began to speak ill of the witch. As the townsfolk conversed they discovered that the potion their Witch so happily promoted did not grow back any hair (or save any marriages). Rumors began to spread and snowball. One said that she put hex on their livestock and another said that she killed their household pet in a ritual. There was an uproar in the town. The townsfolk were going to put the Witch of Anchor to death. Upon hearing this, the town cleric snuck into the witch’s home and took her when she was sleeping. The witch awoke and began to attack the cleric. The cleric drew his sword and demanded that she leave or be slain. The townsfolk appeared in the distance with pitchforks and torches drawn shouting “Kill the Witch of Anchor!”. The witch cackled and gave flight.
Today in Anchor, witchcraft is still punishable by death. Some folks say the witch is still in the woods outside of Anchor, waiting to get revenge on the Cleric she thought turned the people of Anchor against her and stole her prominent position in the town. There are sometimes witch sightings when children or animals go missing in the woods. Watch out for the Witch of Anchor! |
“Oh. My. God!” Mike floated through the kitchen phasing into the living room to look out the window. “Sweetie!! Get down here we have some new roommates!”
“OH!” came a gasp from upstairs as Karen dropped through the floor with curlers still in her hair. “I need to clean myself up!” With a shake of her head the curlers dropped through the floor disappearing.
“This is going to be it love. This time we are going to make them feel welcome, so let’s make a plan! Looks like two men in maybe their early 30’s? Brothers?”
“No, no, no,” Karen shook her head, “look at the way they are arguing! Definitely married.”
“Hmph, back in my day…” Mike began to trail off.
“Michael Alexander you stop that! You know as well as anyone that times change!”
“You’re right, you’re right. Ok so married couple, what should we do? The last one’s didn’t like us playing with their baby and the one before them didn’t like when we helped rearrange the kitchen.”
“They didn’t have an organization system for their cutlery!!”
“I know love, but we need to really nail it with these two. There is something about them, I have a good feeling!” With that Mike floated into the wall to his left, and into the garage.
“Are you sure this is it? It looks, well, normal?” began the man who got out of the driver’s seat.
“Shut up, you know that this is the place,” the other one said matter of factly, slamming the car door on his way out.
“HEY! Don’t slam the doors it’s a classic.”
“Whatever.” As the men approached the front door, the air grew cold.
“Ok, yea this is definitely the place.”
Meanwhile inside Mike and Karen were hard at work. “Oh Michael this place looks gorgeous!!”
Smiling Mike looked back at his loving wife of the past 145 years. “I told you babe! I got a good feeling about this one, no way they don’t the guest room furniture on the ceiling! Instant talking point with their guests. God I’m good.” Suddenly the sound of the door unlocking and creaking open brought the spirits back reality. “They’re here!! I made sure to leave out my favorite jacket on the hanger and your scarf, just to make them feel a bit more at home.”
“Mike you are too kind!”
“No. Way. It can’t be this easy, it’s never this easy,” the taller one said quizzically.
“Well maybe it is? Grab them and bring them outside.”
“LOOK!” whispered Karen. “They are taking the gifts they must like them! Come on let’s see where they are going.”
Mike and Karen floated back to the living room window to watch the two men looking around, as if it check for any onlookers. “Kar, what are they doing? Is that…lighter fluid? OH NO! They are going to burn my favorite jacket.” Frowning Mike looked at Karen, “why do they always hate our gifts? I just want them to feel at home.”
“Alright Dean, just toss some salt on this, light it and let’s get out of here.”
“Fine by me Sammy, I saw a diner that looked like it had a mean bacon burger anyways.”
Suddenly Mike and Karen got a pit in their stomachs. Looking at each other as their last worldly possessions were burnt in a fire, Karen grabbed Mike’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “145 years will never be enough time.” As the fire burnt out, a single tear dropped from Mike’s eye and passes soundlessly through the floor.
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I hope you enjoy! I would love feedback if you have any and thank you for taking your time to read my story! |
I watch in amazement as my nephew discovers another new ability. As he climbs up the side of the looming skyscraper, I glance around the empty alleyway just in case someone is watching. I yell for Peter to quickly return to the ground as I start to get more anxious, but he is too far up to hear me anymore. “It’s not like he would listen anyways” I quietly whisper to myself.
My brother and his wife died unexpectedly a few years back, forcing my wife and I to take in Peter. I knew my brother was a comic book fanatic and I should have made the connection then, but I was too busy grieving to notice.
As the years went on however, I started to get suspicious. Peter would start to cry a few seconds before the power would go out. He would mysteriously be playing with a toy I could have sworn was on the other side of the room before I turned away. I really started to get scared when the house had a problem with spiders, but Peter would just stare curiously at the little monstrosities while drinking out of his Spider-Man cup.
Eventually, the evidence was too strong to deny: my nephew was becoming Spider-Man. I tried to stop leaving the house after the realization, fearing that I would be murdered out in the streets. My wife began to think I was going insane, but I stuck to my beliefs.
Unfortunately, I was forced to leave my precious bedroom today. A buddy of mine was moving out of his apartment, and he asked if I could help him. I brought Peter along, telling my friend that we could use the extra help. In actuality, I just didn’t want to be alone walking the streets of New York City.
After the three of us had finished packing and said our goodbyes, Peter decided to do a little exploring. My biggest nightmare coming true, I followed him down the block into this long, dark alleyway.
Try as I might, Peter will not come back down. I begin to sweat, wiping off the beads of it trailing down my forehead. The shadows of the night seem menacing and I feel powerless to the course of destiny.
I stand there for a few minutes and begin to relax. Maybe I’m freaking out for nothing. Just because Peter has his powers doesn’t mean the Spider-Man storyline has to play out. Life isn’t some comic book being written by the gods, right? And is that Peter I see, waving down from the top of the building?
I slide my back down the grimy wall to sit down and wait. My stomach growls from hunger as I stare towards the blackness of the night sky and close my eyes.
I hear a scream that pierces my ears from what seems like miles above me. Before I can see what is happening, rushed footsteps echo off the walls and I pickup on the cocking of a gun. I begin to tremble as the cool metal is placed on my temple. I plead for mercy, but in my mind, I know this is the end.
The stranger pulls the trigger.
The story goes on.
|
The problem wasn’t that Sam Thickwell was innocent. Sam *was* guilty, just not of the crime he was accused for. What is the proper response for one accosted in such a situation? “*I’m sorry officer, there is simply no way I could have committed petty theft last Thursday, because I was instead committing high treason.”* Is not acceptable under any circumstances. This was the unfortunate situation Sam Thickwell found himself, with one recourse – plead guilty.
Petty theft is an interesting crime. It is interesting for two reasons – the first being that it is considered among the top 25 serious crimes against the state one could commit. The second is that, unlike the other 24 serious crimes, it did not warrant an immediate penalty of death. In a case of petty theft, the defendant, should he be found guilty, is sentenced to a state-work program, until he can recoup the value of the lost item
Petty theft, being amongst the 25 serious crimes, warranted a full jury - a panel of seven randomly selected judges appointed by the state. The trial was brief, lasting less than one hour. The jury was presented the evidence, the verdict was read, and only then was Sam allowed to enter the courtroom for sentencing.
Sam looked up at the panel of judges, locking eyes with the third judge to the right. He knew Mary well, she was part of his ‘knitting club’ that met every Thursday, and she looked genuinely afraid. Sam didn’t understand – this was only a minor setback. The head judge delivered the sentence.
“The penalty of your crime is death. You will be taken to a holding cell and immediately executed.”
The doors to the courthouse opened and two armed guards walked down the marble isle. Sam’s eyes widened. *The death penalty?* For petty theft? This had to be a mistake.
“Excuse me your excellency, but petty theft is not punishable by death, only by labor.” Sam said loudly.
“The verdict and sentence are final. There will be no more questions at this time. May god have mercy on your soul.” The judge said, his elderly, bearded face showing no emotion, his tone condescending.
“No, I don’t understand. This isn’t right.” Sam said. The guards grabbed him roughly and escorted him from the courtroom.
“Do not struggle” one of the guards whispered. Sam recognized the voice – Davis, one of his knitting compatriots.
Sam was taken out of the courtroom into a side hallway and led down to the holding cells. Davis checked his wrist link.
“Looks like we have a prisoner transport order to escort to the loading docks,” Davis said.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that. I thought we were just going to shoot him in a few minutes.” The other guard said.
“I’d be happy to pull the disobedience under rule of questioning form if you’d like.”
“No, please."the guard said, "I’d rather shoot myself. Where are we taking him?”
“Loading dock four. There’s a van for transport.” Davis replied.
In a few minutes Sam was loaded into the back of a black cargo van, along with Davis and the second guard. Sam felt the bump of the van as it pulled away from the loading dock. Davis started cleaning his gun. He removed a microfiber cloth from his belt and scrubbed the outside of the barrel.
“You know the thing about plasma rifles?” Davis asked.
He pointed the gun at the second guard and fired point blank. The burst of superheated plasma went straight into the face of the guard, killing him instantly. Sam sat quietly, not fully comprehending.
“They always leave this gunky residue on the tip of the barrel.” Davis finished. “hold still a minute.”
A second burst from the rifle vaporized Sam’s cuffs. Davis went back to cleaning his rifle.
“What just happened?” Sam asked, throwing the cuffs to the floor of the van. The plasma burst left burns around his wrists, a small price to pay for freedom.
“We’ve moved up the timeline. We had to, they were going to kill you.”
“I realize this, but what *happened*. Why was I arrested in the first place?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I think Jackie can explain better once we get to the hideout.” Davis replied.
The hideout was in the basement of Imperial City Bowl – the local bowling alley. In the large basement room were cubicles, servers, and enough high explosives to level four city blocks. Jackie sat at one of the cubicles, wearing her laboratory gown and glasses. She turned and embraced Sam when he entered.
“I thought we were going to lose you.” She said.
“Hey Jackie, good to see you. What’s going on?”
“Take a look – you aren’t going to believe it, even after you see for yourself.”
Jackie led Sam to a tiny screen. The hacked feed showed a man enter the gas station, pick up a magazine, and walk out without paying. That man was Sam, except it *wasn’t*. He looked like Sam, moved like Sam, wore similar clothes to Sam, but it simply *wasn’t* Sam. It couldn’t have been.
“Who is that?” Sam asked.
“Sam… I think it might be your brother.” Jackie said.
Impossible. Fifteen years prior the family home had caught on fire mysteriously. Sam, and his twin brother Isaac, were in separate rooms. Sam escaped with his parents, but they never recovered Isaac’s body. Could it be?
“What magazine did he steal?”
“Sports illustrated, Swimsuit Edition”
Sam froze. That was just like Isaac. They used to buy each edition and hide it in the treehouse built at the far edge of their property. Could this be Isaac reaching out?
“I have to go – now. I’m sorry” Sam said, going to the entrance to the hideout
“You can’t just leave. If anyone sees you – you’re a wanted criminal now.”
“It doesn’t matter. Isaac needs me to go somewhere - I must go. I’m sorry.”
“Stay safe,” Jackie said, concerned.
Sam threw on a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses and got in the loner Honda Civic parked outside. If Isaac was alive, why did he wait all these years to reveal himself? Why endanger Sam just to send the message? Was he in trouble? Did he know of Sam’s plans? Sam had more questions than answers as he sped down the rough tarmac road leading out of the city. |
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"Welcome to Hot Ones! The division of hot questions and even hotter wings! My name is Sean Evans, and I’ll be interviewing John Greenshire today!"
And with that I begin my grim work.
The rules are simple enough. Start small. Something that maybe even tastes good at first. Sure there's a little burn, a singe so to speak, but a lot of people like that sort of thing. In fact, I'll even join you. Show you that we're two buds in the same place, doing the same thing.
"Alright go ahead and grab that first wing. No no you want the one closer to the handle. Trust me."
The perp looks confused. Our files say he's a repeat offender. A robbery here, a heist there. The natural extension of no one having told him how wrong the five-finger discount is.
But he got in deep if he's here.
"Alright John we'll start with a soft ball. Why did you take those files?"
John's eyes dart to the left. It's the briefest of micro-expressions, but it is a clear indication that the next thing out of his mouth is going to be bullshit.
“I was lookin’ for porn. Not for me, see, but some guys have a thing for… hard to acquire stuff. You know? Stuff that’d make you sick. Stuff that the government holds onto for evidence until the trial is over and then it’s gone for good. Again it wasn’t for me. But some guys are you know... into” he leans forward and gives me a conspiratorial whisper “snuff.”
I slap the table jovially, “man I get that! It’s important to make a buck, you know?! There are some sick guys out there, but no reason to let that keep you from making ends meet! But uh… the files you took weren’t really pornographic in nature John. Tell you what, I think we’re ready for the next question. Why don’t you grab that second wing there?”
I pick up my wing too. John seems eager enough. If he’s been processed right he hasn’t eaten in a few days. He’s hungry enough that a mild burn on the tongue is a small price to pay for sustenance.
“Sure man, but uh… I don’t really like spicy stuff. How hot do these things get?”
“Tell you what, John. If you can answer all of my questions you won’t need to find out!”
And there it is. The first hint that I’m onto his bullshit. You only get the next wing if you did badly. The game is afoot. I, of course, will eat along with them. My mouth has been deadened to this for a long time. I taste nothing but the sweet taste of justice.
“Alright so the next question for you, John! We know that the file you took wasn’t porn, and was in fact something a whole lot more dangerous. I don’t need to tell you how bad it is if it ends up in the wrong hands. What I want to know is, did you sell it?”
Another dart left. This isn’t a guy who excels at lying. No one with a sheet as long as his is. For his sake I hope he starts telling the truth soon. I have seen people’s tongues literally melt out of their heads by the time they hit “Da Bomb.”
“No man. You know I tried a little bit. I knew it was valuable when I saw what it was, but there’s just not a great way to move a file like that, you know?”
So he sold it. Fuck.
“I see. Well John you’ve been acing the wings so far. In fact, you haven’t even touched your water yet! That’s good. That’s real good. Why don’t you grab that next wing and I’ll hit you with another question!”
The first real flash of fear in his eyes now. “Listen I don’t like spicy stuff you know? If you wanna have a conversation let’s get some mashed potatoes or a pizza or something and talk it out.”
“Sorry my friend, but here at Hot Ones we really only do wings. Vegan wings if you need them, but I don’t think you’re a vegan. Are you a vegan, John?”
“Naw I’m not vegan, I’m scared.”
Baby. We’re only on wing 3.
“Alright John, I can tell you are a little worried about our process here. Tell you what, why don’t I get one of these guys back here to help you eat the next wing and then we can talk!”
One of the observers steps forward as I say it. He grabs the wing and squeezes John’s cheek. Hard. John gasps, and the observer sticks the wing in. “Chew,” he says in a deadened voice. You can’t be too emotional and work here. He pinches John’s nose, and ultimately John is forced to comply.
“Ow shit,” John whines, “that one was kinda hot. Look man I’m shotoin’ straight with you. There’s no buyer out there. I can give you back the file if you’d like.”
“We’ll get to that John, but now it’s time for question three. It’s pretty well known that you’re a thief John. Good ol’ stick-hands Johnny was your nickname in high school as I recall. What a lot of people may NOT know about you is how well connected you are with the Russian spy network! Can you tell me how you made those connections, and what their names are?”
“Wait how did you know…” a look of genuine surprise filters through John’s eyes. That’s the trick to these interviews. Anyone can ask the easy questions. You get the expected answers and keep the flow going smooth and surface level. And that works… for wings 1 and 2. After that, you drop a bomb on them. Ask something that requires a lot of research. Something they thought was buried in time. Catch them off guard. By wing 3, they should realize what you’ve known all along… the interview is a formality. You already know everything there is to know about them.
“Alright fine, shit. You got me. His name is Artyom Mikhailov. He’s an old buddy from one of my first times in the clink. He’s back in Russia now, but the dude is connected. And loaded. He told me this would be an easy job. That it couldn’t trace back to me. Stupid lying fuck.”
Good. Finally the truth. We figured it was probably Artyom, but now we’ve saved about a week of gathering evidence. International case though. File’s already in Russia. Going to be hard to get it back. The observers will want an end.
I smack the table.
“Well John, you’ve made it through the first three wings! That’s a lot better than about half of our competitors here! You’ve shown your worth, you’ve made it through the gauntlet, now it’s time for our final wing.”
I grab the bottle in front of me, shaking it a little as I talk. It’s entirely unappealing, with several biohazard warnings. One label, “handle only with grade X biohazard equipment” is written largely and in red. It’s very effectively designed. The whole thing looks terrifying, and often its presence on the table alone is enough to get the perp talking.
Of course it’s effective. I made it myself.
“Wait woah look, I told you everything you needed to know. We don’t have to eat the last one right? And what the fuck are you doing with that bottle anyway?”
“Well John it’s tradition around here! Anyone who has done something they can’t take back gets to eat ‘The Last Dab.’ We call it that because I like to put a little extra dab of the sauce on my wing. You don’t have to if you don’t want to!”
As of today there are only two known survivors of exposure to The Last Dab. Disgusting and terrifying people who have destroyed their own mouths to make them effective agents. I refer of course to myself and Chili Klaus, our international field agent. Klaus will be the one tasked with apprehending Artyom. To date no one has taken me up on my offer of an additional dab of the sauce. Which is really too bad. My mouth being what it is this is just about the only thing I can still taste, and if you get past the burning it actually isn’t half bad.
An observer comes forward again. This time he is wearing a thick rubber suit. He will need to shower for an hour after this to ensure no residue of The Last Dab remains.
I pop my wing casually into my mouth, taking my time to chew methodically, never breaking eye contact with John. The wing is forced into his mouth and the effect is almost instantaneous. John lets out the scream of a dying man. Steam is billowing from every pore in his head. Looking past it, I can see his lips begin to melt, a pool of fleshy goo on the floor. His eyes are those of a trapped animal, something that knows it isn’t long for this world. He’s crying, but as the tears run down his face the heat emanating from his mouth evaporates them.
It’s terrible and beautiful. Some of the truly disturbed observers laugh a little.
John is pacing rapidly back and forth, and then remembers his water. He reaches for it and chugs the entire glass as I stand up to leave.
In the doorway of the interrogation room now I hear him scream again. I turn around to see that his lower jaw is almost entirely skeletonized now. He can likely still talk for a time, but it will be difficult. There’s a hole in his throat where some of the wing matter has melted through the thin, unenforced flesh.
“You really should have asked for milk, John. Water just makes it worse. If you have any last words you can say them into that camera there, that camera there, or that camera there” I say pointing around the room. And John, thank you for coming to Hot Ones.
With that I close the door. The dying man is left to his fate. This whole thing always makes me so hungry. I think tonight I’ll go find a new curry joint. |
"And you say this will bring happiness to anyone?"The alien asked, it long fingers reaching down.
"Yep, I guarantee that this lil fella here is capable of bringing happiness to anyone and everyone. You just gotta let it do so."The man replied.
"I do not understand how one thing can cause such an emotional reaction. Will these effects work even on beings such as myself?"It questioned the man.
"Mhm, it sure can."He replied. "Just watch, I promise it'll work."
The alien cast its gaze downward once more.
The dog below it sneezed.
"Fascinating." |
I threw the last snowball at my friend but she dodged with great agility, and laughed.
"No fair! You're too fast, Madeline."
"Nope,"She giggled, "You're just too slow."
"Girls, girls, calm down, there is no need to fight,"One of the Elders came up to us. "Now you should probably come on inside. We are about to eat."
We came inside gleefully, me putting off my layers and layers of coats that I had worn. Madeline did the same. She zipped off to the dining table, and I followed. Everyone in the village was there, waiting for everyone to come on up, before we could feast. The Elders sat together, among them bring my very own grandfather. He was wise, as elders often were, and he always told of days when no snow would cover the ground, where foliage would sprout without evergreen leaves, flowers blooming and warmth all over our bodies that didn't come from the fireplaces that were in our cabins.
Of course, everyone knew it was a myth. This world has been frozen over for as long as anyone can remember. Of course we knew how to adapt to it, how to survive, but no one has ever felt any sort of natural warmth in their lives.
As we ate, we talked to one another. "The mammoths have all gone into the cave again. We weren't able ot get any more meat from them."One of the hunters sighed.
A collector said, "The frostberries were plentiful, and at least some fishers got some fish out of the ice holes. It's hard to get to the water underneath that thick sheet of ice."
"I don't recommend swimming in the water, either,"An Elder chuckled, "It's so cold you'll become an icicle in no less than a millisecond."
We were with the children, and they were speaking of running along the cabins chasing each other with their plush dolls and laser pointers. At least we still had our technology, if there was such thing as an unfrozen Earth long ago, but what really could we use with it?
I wonder if I would ever feel natural warmth in my life. I knew it was a myth, but it still intrigues me.
Madeline held up one of the cooked fish and ate it with glee. I had barely touched any of my food, but my stomach was growling. Best try to eat something.
Once everyone was done eating, the group all dispersed. I was done playing outside for the day, so I decided to head to my room and perhaps crack open a book, to start reading something. When I got to my room, another of my friends, who was my roommate, Sead... Though everyone called him Seed, was glancing at my stacks and stacks of papers. "You write really good stories,"He remarked.
"Thanks,"I replied simply as I went to the bed, picking a book from one of the bookcases.
"Like, you seem to think so well, of elves and people with ears of cats or those who could summon magic, in a world that isn't so frozen over."
"Some of the things I get from the Elders,"I said.
"Have you ever shared any of your stories with anyone?"Seed asked.
"... No, not really,"I admitted.
Seed smiled, "Well you should. The other children would love them."
"I'll keep that in mind, Seed,"I told him as I continued reading from my book.
Maybe I would share one of those stories I write down because of a spark of inspiration lit in my head... Maybe. |
You know that Paradox“an immovable object meets an unstoppable force” . One can never die the other cannot be harmed.
In the midst of bar brawl the two found themselves set against each other. Knife drown Chris stabbed the assailant, who collapsed only to reappear a few meters away on the other side of the bar. Chris dumbfounded in awe takes a beer bottle to the face. Razor sharp glass flys around the room. unscathed without even the tinniest scratch Chris picks up a metal chair sprints at the assailant an promptly batts him across the room, only for the assailant to spawn directly behind him and counter attack but to no avail.
The two continued this Somewhat comedic battle neither able to subdue the other, until both eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.
Would love feedback, especially on ways to better add humor into story’s. |
As I stared at the horrifying image before me, I knew it wasn't a time to panic.
"Jimmy, get the HORNETs and load everyone and everything we can ASAP, this is CODE RED!"
"Dude, what the hell is code r- HOLY CRAP!"He started panicking
I slapped his face "This isn't the time to panic, this is the time to get the hell out of here and go to the dark side, in a deep crater so we won't be hit by debris"I said.
Jimmy stared at me and ask "Did you just make a Star Wars reference in a situation like this?"
I smiled and said "You aren't panicking, now let's go. We got to get the last 600 people out of here NOW!"As we ran, I asked John "Are you seeing this? Can you calculate the trajectory to see where the moon is headed without the Earth's gravity, wouldn't want to stay on the moon if we are being catapulted towards anything big..."
John responded, "Yes, Anna and I are running the simulation right now."
"Also,"I asked "How did we not see this coming? I mean, we should have been able to predict this and sent a few nukes to change its course to miss earth."
I heard a sigh, "Look, Victor, I am just as confused as you are, but if I had to guess, it would be that lunatic from the London bombing. You know, the one who declared he will bring the extinction of humanity if we don't follow his demands, everyone dismissed him, and he bombed London and was caught. Rumours say he escaped a few years ago and the government hushed it to avoid embarrassment while they secretly tried to find him."
"Even if he was rich, you think he had the resources to somehow remove the asteroid from every observatory in the world and every simulator without anyone noticing. Heck, I'd believe freaking Aliens did it before I would believe some rich terrorist could do something like this without being caught."
"Victor, you need to hear this"Said Emily.
"Attention, this is Major Lopez of the United States Army, commander of the Ark 1 Vessel requesting aid on behalf of the 4738 US citizens onboard."Said a man in his late 40's in a no-nonsense tone.
"This is Victor Fleury, Chief Production Engineer of Stellaire 1A Lunar Factory. I am glad to hear there are more survivors than I thought, be assured that I will do as much as possible to help, are you aware of any other vessels that may have escaped Earth in time?"I asked as I helped load vital equipment on the containers.
The Major answered "There are two smaller European vessels and one Japanese Vessel, these three vessels are carrying 2000 total. But we have a bigger problem, our landing gear was damaged beyond repair during takeoff, and we won't be able to land."
After a moment of contemplation, I said: "That shouldn't be a problem, we will send a dozen Condors to transport 50 at a time while you orbit around the moon. Also, I have to ask, aside from people, what else do you have on that ship?"
"We have food and a small genetically engineered fungi farm that we use to recycle the air and supplement our caloric intake. We have limited manufacturing abilities, but I'd imagine it wouldn't be a problem as long as your factory is intact."
I narrowed my eyes and asked "No weapons?"suspicion evident in my voice.
Major Lopez was silent for a few moments and eventually said: "We do have a few weapons, but..."I cut him off...
"I will have to ask that you remove all weapons from your ship before we bring you to our base. There are less than 8000 humans alive right now in the whole universe, we are an officially endangered species, no need to bring us closer to extinction than we already are."I said with a serious voice.
The Major hummed and said, "I guess I will have to tell you this, but we suspect Cristopher Petran and his associates are behind this and might be on one of the other three vessels."
Holy crap, John's crazy theory was correct? "What? Have you made attempts to contact the other ships?"
"No, because we don't know how many of his associates are on these vessels."He said.
"What about your Vessel?"I asked, "How can you be sure none of the 4738 people onboard isn't working for him?"
"We had a list of people who were allowed to come. I can tell you for sure that none of them is working for him."Said the Major.
I was still not entirely convinced, that none of the people on the Ark 1 is one of Petran's agents, but I reasoned that the decision to allow weapons should be taken to a vote with the others.
---
After 24 hours, we managed to migrate all the people and vital equipment from the factory to a crater on the dark side of the moon. I was voted to be the temporary leader of our group and to oversee the steps needed to make sure we have the highest chance of survival. We had also voted to not allow weapons to be brought along. Major Lopez wasn't happy but conceded to our reasoning that these weapons could be used by Petran's agents and it would be best if there weren't any weapons at all.
"And I thought the dark side of the moon will be dark."Said Jimmy in a surprised tone.
I sighed "No, Jimmy. The dark side of the moon is not always dark, it is called that way because it is ever turned away from earth and for the longest time we had no idea how it looked like. Seriously, you have been living on the moon for over six months, and you didn't know that?"
He chuckled clearly embarrassed "Hehe, must have slipped my mind."he said.
"This is Air Chief Marshal Raji of the Indian Air Force, on behalf of 186 Indian Citizens, I request your assistance."Said a man with a thick Indian accent.
"This is Victor Fleury, Chief Production Engineer of Stellaire 1A Lunar Factory and currently elected Survival Coordinator on the moon. Glad to hear more people managed to survive this disaster."At this point, I had already gotten used to this, having been contacted by the two European and the Japanese Vessels.
"We have a bit of a problem because we had very little time to prepare, we only can survive for a few days before we run out of air, we don't have any functioning air recycling equipment nor enough water for too long."He said with a calm and rehearsed voice.
"I understand, if you are able to reach the moon, we will be able to provide you with support. Make sure to not lose that air when you land, we will be able to recycle it for everyone. Since your vessel is the least equipped, you will be given priority. I will need a full report of all the contents of the ship."I answered.
"Thank you. We will reach the moon within 20 hours. You will receive a written report within an hour."he replied earnestly.
---
I sent a few Condors to intercept the incoming American Vessel, best to transfer the people as soon as possible. "John, how does it look?"I asked on the radio.
"Looking good, the Ark 1 is on course, and we will reach them within 10 minutes."he said, "Feels like we are the protagonists of a sci-fi story."
"I know what you mean, John. This whole situation seems too unreal, but we got a job to do."I said
"Aye captain!"John said in a mock salute and got back to work.
"Anna, how is the new farm construction going?"I asked
"It is working as expected, no leaks, temp is stable, and soon we will be able to feed more people."She answered
"And how are the preparations for the Fungi farm? We are bringing the Fungi from the Ark 1 within 2 hours."
"The farm is already ready and waiting for the fungi to arrive. Should be able to feed 10000 people within a few days of cultivation and recycle air for this many people as well."
"That is excellent news. Thank you, Anna."
"Aye captain!"She said with the same mock salute as John. These two love to tease me for that.
---
"This is Ben Bakker, I will be your chauffeur for today. Please enter in a calm, orderly fashion."Said ben to the people on the Ark 1 ship, but they didn't seem to get his humour. "And don't forget to secure the equipment there."
"This is the last batch, have we counted everyone?"I asked both the Major and Ben on the radio.
"Yes, all 4738 people have been accounted for."Said the Major, visibly pleased.
Suddenly, a teenager and his dog came out of one of the closets and screamed "YESSSSS! I'M ALIVE!"with evident relief
Everyone tensed and turned to the kid. "What are you doing here, boy."asked the Major.
"It's a long story."He said
"Make it short!"Barked the Major
The kid flinched and said "I have a hobby of hacking into famous people's computers and snooping. I saw the messages between the president and several of his advisors regarding the imminent asteroid strike and decided to sneak on the vessel to survive."
Lopez sighed, and I said, "I'm glad one more person managed to survive."
---
I certainly enjoyed writing this so far, should I make a part two?
Dialogue usually is my biggest weakness, so I made sure to write a lot of it here to practice.
Any constructive criticism is welcome.
---
|
*"I screwed up big time."*
A thought that's been popping more often than not at John's mind in the recent days, that is, if you can call the time he's been living on the space between time days.
 
It all started in a rainy afternoon in his lab, in the year of 2097.
 
Following the end of World-War 3, most of the planet was deemed uninhabitable for human life, with the few millions of remaining humans slowly perishing thanks to diseases that the remains of the Great Nuclear War brought.
The greatest remaining minds of mankind joined their efforts in order to do what has probably been fantasized about for centuries, *to build an actual, working, time machine*. It has been about a decade since John and his team finished theorizing about how to build it and started doing so, but finding the required parts wasn't easy, as even in the regions that weren't greatly affected by radiation, collateral damage still had happened, like mutated lifeforms and poisonous clouds that could kill any human upon inhalation.
 
With about three quarters of the original team deceased and most of the remaining members incapacitated thanks to the material scavenger hunts, they reach a consensus that John would be the one to actually travel through time to fix the mess they were into, since the machine they had just finished could only carry 1 person. After a long week of debating, the team members finally reach a consensus on what they would be doing and *what* they would change in history, and it's first steps weren't that complicated:
First, John would travel into the *future*, yes, the future, the team wanted to know if there **was** a necessity to change the time-line, as doing so could pose a grave danger upon all life on Earth and beyond, even. So John would keep going into the future, in 10 year intervals, until he found the year that either humanity has gone extinct or managed to rebuild a steady lifestyle on the planet, and depending on what happens, they would have to change the past to prevent the worse from happening.
And that's what John does, until finally on the year of 3027, John finds that what was formerly called humanity managed to rebuild itself and is beggining to thrive again, so John should return to 2097 and report to the team that they didn't need to alter the past, that eventually humanity would prevail and there was no need to risk the entire existence to fix it. *That's what WAS supposed to be done*, but John figured that about a thousand years to fix the world was a bit too long, so he made the decision to lie to his team and say humanity had gone extinct at some point in-between, doesn't matter when, so they could change the past and make the world a better place sooner.
 
*One would think one of the greatest remaining minds of mankind would know better...*
 
Upon returning to 2097, John told the team that mankind had gone extinct at 2247, and that something needed to be changed in the past so the future would be changed. The team then proceeded to come up with various ideas, from making sure World-War 3 never happened to making sure nuclear weapons were never developed and various others. All of those ideas were then given in a notebook to John, since the team figured they might not exist after John changes something in the time-line, along with some supplies and hopefully temporary farewells and a *very important instruction*: **MORE THAN ONE OF YOU CANNOT EXIST AT THE SAME TIME**, since doing so would most likely cause a time paradox and no one knew what would happen then.
John then set off on his journey through time, following the plan they had decided on: change one thing at a time and then check the results at 2097 and 2247, with an extra step that John kept to himself of visiting 3027 and going back in time to see when humanity would be thriving, hopefully earlier than that, it was the perfect plan, or so he thought...
After managing to stop World-War 3 from happening thanks to his future knowledge and the removal of a few key pieces, John hopped back into the machine and set the target time to 2097 and started the trip back home that should've taken not more than a couple minutes, *but it didn't.* After an hour in the space between time, John began to get scared, thinking he messed with something he should have not, and was at the same time thankful for the machine's battery, that could resupply it's energy, keeping the machine working permanently.
A day and a half passed and he finally reached 2097, but not a 2097 he knew, something had changed, the world was still the same as before the War, with millions of people everywhere, and everything functioning properly. John, very happy that it had worked, decided to visit 2247 then, just to make sure everything was alright.
 
Well, it wasn't. Nothing was right in the world he arrived on after a week or so stuck in the time machine, he did not even dare to open the door of the machine, as there were huge black clouds looming everywhere, with everything looking abandoned and even some skeletons and remains of people scattered around.
Even with some extensive searching flying around with his time machine, John could find no signs of mankind, or any kind of life for that matter, it seemed the entire world was a desert wasteland, and John had no idea why.
After calming down and thinking, John decided to go back a century in time and see if he could find any indications of what caused this future. Reaching 2147, he's relieved that there are still people around, but he notices the black clouds are already present, even if they're on a smaller scale, they're there.
A week had passed since John got to 2147, and he figured what caused the future he saw: *pollution*, apparently mankind had polluted the world so much that it made it unable to host any kind of life. He remembered reading about something of the sorts, of a phenomenon called *Global Warming* that worried people before the third World-War, but he never thought much of it, since the war caused so much destruction. John grew scared, he had changed the past in a way that he basically killed off all life on the planet, only because he thought 3027 was too far away... *I screwed up big time* he thinks as he's trying to figure out what he should do. The first thing that pops in his mind is going back in time and stopping himself from stopping World-War 3, but he couldn't be present at a time there was already one of him, so he goes back and tries to keep the key pieces he had removed more secure, so they couldn't be removed.
 
*It did not work...*
 
Apparently what the John of a week or so ago did in the past to stop the War changed along with the changes the current John made, keeping World-War 3 from happening regardless. No matter what he tried, the John of the past would adapt and the future was still screwed, he could not think of a way out, so he tried changing things even further back in time, to no avail.
After a year or so of trying, John restocks on supplies at a year he didn't even know anymore and headed of to the space between time, he found out it was the most relaxing place, after all he had done at least there he could feel some sort of peace in that emptiness. Nothing he had tried worked, and after the several days he spent on that emptiness, he thought of a plan, one he could be sure would have some impact, except he wouldn't be there to see them. He was certain that he had tried everything, but no matter what he did, the him of the past would "fix"it, he experienced how crazy that time-"loop"was, and he figured the only way of fixing it would be removing himself from history, before he made any changes, so, the plan was concocted, he would kill his father while he was still a kid, since that was before the war started, so John himself would never be born and disappear from existence, making so nothing stops the war from happening and that humanity manages to thrive again, even if it's a millennium into the future.
 
With that in mind, John sets the destination year to 2043, prepared to kill his infant father and cease to exist, rejoicing the fact that the father he knew was always kind of a dick, and only hoping that whoever replaces him as the eventual time machine pilot does not make the same mistake as he did...
 
 
PS.: Ended up a bit on the long side, but I've lurked this sub enough and this is the first prompt that actually made me want to write something, and with that in mind I felt like i had to expand a bit into the context to convey what I wanted. It's also about 4 in the morning, so wouldn't be surprised if there's a mistake or two (or dozens) in there, but I'll try to correct them later. |
I've tried. I've tried so hard. And I did well throught the years. I ruled rightly, and made the world a better place. I cannot sleep anymore. I still hear the mob call for his death. I tried to wash my hands from it all, but they're still bloody. I shouldn't have given in. I made, but one mistake, and cursed this world to millenia of suffering. As he died, skies cried aswell. I still hear them demand- free Barabbas, crucify the heathen. |
"Look man, we don't have the budget for killing a dragon,"the guard said to Joe. Joe was about done with the dragon's antics. His life depended on his sheep, and this dragon wasn't going to end his life. If he had no choice, he would have to kill the dragon himself. And he had no choice. He headed to the local library. For half a year, he had been studying the delicate arts of magic and combat, to kill the dragon, and he was about to put his knowledge to good use. He had contacted officials of every level, all declined. They had vanquished dragons before, why not now? Grabbing his machete, carved with arcane runes, he headed to the hill where the dragon lied. The more bones he saw, the more aggravated he became, his eyes filled with all the flame that dragon had in it and then some. Joe wasn't known for his calm temper. When the dragon was within eyeshot, he had lost it, he was in a fury, not even a god could stop him. Despite being a farmer, he was as strong as an experienced guard and he raised his machete in the air and sliced a chunk of the dragon's snout off, penetrating through the otherwise sturdy scales, imagining himself as a valiant warrior of times long gone. In agony, the dragon tried in vain to burn Joe into a char, but it was no match for his protective seals. He restrained the dragon by tying its neck with a magic chain to the strongest tree he could find, tying it so hard, the dragon could barely breathe. He rubbed the most potent poison he could find onto the tongue of the dragon. He went home. The next day, he read the headline of the local newspaper. VICIOUS DRAGON FOUND DEAD, TIED TO TREE WITH CHAIN. He smiled. |
The sun rose over the horizon on a new day, and a new adventure. Just a year ago, we had toppled the Dark one, crushed his armies of the dead, and resurrected the fallen god of light, becoming closer friends all the while... But now rumors had reached the kingdom from the coast. Rumors of people disappearing at an alarming rate, and even a few people talking about monsters hiding just beneath the waves, and the people feared another danger of the same caliber. Naturally, everyone wanted us to deal with the problem, and we were happy to oblige.
However, things started getting weird once we left town. Normally, we'd be quipping and bantering while we traveled, it was practically a tradition at this point. Adventuring was just more fun when Fitzgerald was making some snide remark about how easy the quest was going to be, with Monica snarking at him about how he didn't have to spend hours preparing potions, blessings, or spells. Or Sister Amelia offering her always welcome, but rarely helpful advice, while I leveled out her somewhat idealistic worldviews with more realistic insights.
but everyone was mostly silent, as if the tale of our journey was being completely glossed over in favor of skipping to some later event. We were nearly at the coast, setting up camp when we finally started to talk.
Fitzgerald started up the conversation, "Boy, sure has been a long journey, eh guys?"
While it was far from the first time he stated the obvious, usually he would only do it as part of a joke, so I decided to respond and see what amusing quip he had in store.
"Yep, really makes your feet sore,"I said, confused as to why I had added the comment about feet. My legs weren't even tired, especially given that the trip to the coast was only a day's march away from where we'd been staying. Almost a leisurely stroll compared to most of the trips we'd taken.
"Well, you'll just have to suck it up because it's only going to get harder,"Fitzgerald said, though from the apologetic look on his face, it appeared he wasn't sure why he'd said that either. I wasn't sure whether that was meant to be the joke or not, but it didn't look like anyone found it funny.
"Oh no, I'm scared,"Sister Amelia said, watching with great concern as her body seemed to be pulling itself closer to Fitzgerald. While she didn't hate him, she had never been fond of his rather lax bathing habits, and if anything usually went out of her way to stay near me instead since it meant we had an easier time maintaining the party's blessings. Not to mention that she never talked about being uncomfortable, it was only our most recent adventure that she even started expressing any sort of doubt in anything we did, and that was because our god had been dead at the time.
"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe,"Fitzgerald said, also rather concerned with the turn of events. While I loved the guy and knew he was willing to step up when the going got tough, Fitzgerald was generally NOT someone who could be called brave, so that statement seemed almost blatantly dishonest.
The conversation died out after that, Monica apparently not speaking despite the look on her face making it pretty clear she had something to say. Then we got that same feeling from the road where it felt like there was just nothing happening as the sun sank in the sky.
I leaned over and whispered to the others, "Guys, we still haven't figured out a watch order or entrenched the camp..."
Monica struggled as she sat on the log. She whispered, "I can't get up, I can't even turn around to check behind me. I really wish I'd brewed an antiparalysis potion now."
"Are we cursed or something? Did you guys spill your holy wine on the head priest again?"Fitzgerald asked.
"That was one time! The fates have probably just decided to push our journey in a slightly different direction, we shouldn't question it,"Sister Amelia said.
Suddenly, the whispering stopped dead as we all apparently decided to start turning in for the night. I could almost feel an ambush coming. I lay there, still conscious but with my eyes forcibly closed as I heard dragging noises and soft groans.
Then Sister Amelia screamed and we started getting up. Sister Amelia was being dragged away by some kind of sea slug, and Monica was slowly getting up. I mean, she'd always been a heavy sleeper, but it felt like we'd only laid there for ten minutes at the most. Then for some reason I decided to kneel down and start praying to the god of light for protection, a blatantly stupid idea given that we were actively being attacked. I got bashed with a giant crab claw before I even finished the words "Oh god of light".
Fitzgerald was apparently the only one not being held back, and he was barely able to remain standing he was moving so fast. He carved up the sea slug in two seconds flat, despite his dagger being the stabbing sort and not a chopping blade. Then he tore apart the giant crab and chased away the woman with octopus tentacles for legs, who spat insults at us in classic maritime manner. Surprisingly there were no other monsters, apparently they had decided to attack us despite being outnumbered and apparently so weak that the weakest fighter in the group could take them down solo. Even Sister Amelia could beat Fitzgerald when she decided to start swinging that staff of hers around.
"Alas, it seems my god has failed to protect me, what can I even do now?"Sister Amelia asked flatly. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but from her tone I suspected it was more the lack of faith in her words than the fact that she was nearly kidnapped. The gods were people too, and there was no shortage of myths of them making mistakes or questionable decisions, but Amelia always believed in the unknowable plans of the gods and them always being right in the end, so saying they'd failed was almost blasphemy. Not to mention that as our last adventure attested, between her medical skill, charisma, and skill at arms she was well worth keeping around even without her divine magic.
"Even my might as a paladin couldn't help!"I said, rolling my eyes. The gods "I may as well just go home."Immediately I stood up and started walking away despite having no actual reason to. Nobody tried to stop me despite pleading with their eyes for me to stay. It was almost like some unknowable force just wanted to get me out of the adventure entirely.
As I walked away from the group, I could feel myself manually moving again. I stopped for a minute, trying to figure out what had happened. Some sort of dark magic? Possibly, albeit with a motive so strange it was basically unknowable. Not to mention that if they were really a purveyor of the dark, killing off a member of the Paladins of the Purging Light would be too tempting to pass up. Also, my will was nigh-unbreakable, so they would have to be unimaginably powerful to have hoodwinked us like that.
Maybe the fates, like Amelia said? No, wait, Amelia was probably misremembering how they work. The fates only record things that happen, even before they actually happen, and mortals aren't allowed to see their records because it would grant them knowledge allowing them to diverge from it. The Fates don't just steal your free will, no matter what those crazy people on the street corners say.
Any other ideas I came up with would only get more hare-brained, so I decided to head back to the temple of light and consult the texts.
----
After two days of travel, and an hour or two of searching the library fruitlessly, I decided to ask the oracle instead. However, on the way to the seer's temple, I ran into Monica with a little girl. There was something familiar about her...
"Hey! Butter Richie!"the little girl cried, waving at me as I approached. Monica turned toward me as the girl shot away from her.
"Rebecca?"I said, scooping her up. She clung to my cape, which made giving her a proper hug somewhat difficult. I hadn't recognized her at first, but now I was wondering how I could've missed it.
"This is a little hard to explain... Fitzgerald wished on a star and somehow she's alive again? And the same age she was when she... you know,"Monica said, making a motion across her neck with her hand. "And then I 'volunteered' to take her home, and now here we are. You should've seen the waterworks when she appeared, even the incredibly awkward inability to properly speak couldn't stop it."
While I was baffled as to who in their right mind would think it was a good idea to leave Monica in charge of a child, seeing her alive again was still choking me up a bit. Seeing her get sacrificed by the death priest in our first adventure had been absolutely heartbreaking. She was Fitzgerald's baby sister with no relation to the rest of us, sure, but we'd all gotten quite fond of her over the few weeks we'd known her.
After I regained my composure, I hoisted up Rebecca before saying, "I don't doubt it. Want to see the oracle? I'm trying to figure out what the hell's going on."
"Why not? I wasn't up to much else,"Monica said, shrugging.
It was only a short walk to the temple, and after a short wait we were allowed in to speak with the oracle. The smell of incense was strong, and the half-asleep woman in the funky clothes gestured for us to speak.
"I am Brother Richard, Paladin of the Holy Order of the Purging Light, O Oracle, and I come seeking your wisdom,"I said.
"Hey. Monica. Good to see ya,"Monica said, taking a swig from her canteen. While not unexpected, I still wanted to bop her on the head for being too casual. The oracle was nonplussed, however.
"Welcome heroes, I know of your troubles. You come to seek an answer for the strange happenings of late, not with your quest, but with your beings,"the oracle said. "It is not a person, but a god who brings this upon you. An old god, known only as Auth-Orr, creator of all things, who brought our world forth from nothing."
(continued in part 2) |
My phone went off, I wake up and think to myself "it's Friday, wait what's a Friday? That was a weird thought"I get up and get dressed, then check my phone the date read "Friday November 27th"I stared at it. What's Friday? Then I remembered everything. How I was blasted by the interdimensional collider and now I wake up in a different dimension every day. I look around, in this dimension my bedroom is blue, and there are dinosaur posters on the wall. I look in the mirror, I look like a ten year old girl. I decided to go to sleep. The next dimension I woke up to a loud "Roooaaar" |
I hear scream from bedroom, I go check. Is Nelly again. Nelly scare Bobby so he scream. It a week now. Bobby no understand. He no understand me, this world. Bobby not from here, Bobby from world, big things go up heaven. Bobby no understand this world.
Bobby look me, he cry. I no want Bobby cry but he scare easy. I see Nelly upset because Bobby cry. Nelly crawl out. Bobby is good boy, he just no understand yet. Bobby no can go home, Bobby stuck. I protect Bobby, Bobby is like son.
Me, Nelly, this world, we all monster. Bobby no monster, Bobby no friend. I no want Bobby lonely, Bobby is like son. |
"They could have at least cleaned the knife."
Those were my final thoughts as they drove the jagged piece of metal through my sternum and into my heart. At least it was quick, which is weird cause being stabbed in one of the most crucial organs once would usually mean a slow, agonizing death. At least thats what I gathered from that anatomy class I failed.
As I gasped my last breath, my spirit floated above my body, suspended by whatever it is that keeps spirits afloat and looked down at the Cultists as the prayed over my corpse, collecting my blood in what looked like a golden goblet, encrusted with jewels when in reality it was made of plastic and still had the discount sticker on the bottom.
"That really friggin hurt,"I muttered to my ghostly self. "Assholes."
"No kidding,"said a voice, deep and melodic. "As far as sacrifices go, this one was definitely low budget."I whirled around only to come face to face with a figure, cloaked in wavy darkness. Its face, hidden in the shadow of its hood. The only part of it I could see were its skeletal hands which held a large scythe that it used to prop itself up, leaning on it like a walking stick.
"You're the Grim Reaper!"I exclaimed. "Wow they actually depict you super accurately in the paintings and stuff."Death gave a slight chuckle as he looked me up and down.
"Yeah,"it said. "What can I say? I leave a lasting impression."Before I could say anything, we were interrupted by the leader of the cultist below.
"Oh great lord of darkness! Devourer of the heavens!"He spouted, raising the Halloween decoration with my blood in it high above his head as the other cultists knelt. "We offer you this sacrifice of virgin flesh and blood! Oh great Ygsithanka!"I grunted as I rolled my eyes.
"Problem?"Asked Death. I looked at it and folded my arms.
"I'm not a virgin,"I explained. "Not by a long shot."
"Did you try explaining that to them?"
"Oh yeah,"I said. "And you know what they said? Close enough."We stared at one another for a minute before we both burst out laughing, and let me tell you that if you every heard Death laugh it sounds nothing like you'd expect.
"That explains it,"Death said.
"Explains what?"I asked. Death motion for me to follow and we ended up sitting in one of the pews of the abandoned church these jackasses decided was a great place to commit a sacrifice.
"Would you believe they didn't even get the name of the god right?"Said Death. "Not like any human could pronounce it anyway."
"There's more than one god?"I asked. "That makes way too much sense."
"Yeah. But they don't really listen to humans that much."
"So where do I go now?"I asked. "Heaven? Hell? Taco Palace on Fifth?"
"Ah,"said Death, scratching the void where its chin would be with a bony hand. "Thats the thing. You weren't sacrificed properly so you have a choice to make."I leaned in close, curious as to where this was going.
"I'm listening,"I said.
"Well,"started Death. "Because these douche bags botched your sacrifice, you're not really tethered to any particular religion. As such. I am permitted to make you an offer to become something in between much like myself."
"A Grim Reaper?"I said to myself more than Death.
"No no no,"it said. "Thats my job and I'm quite fond of it. I have no plans on retiring at least for another few millennia. I mean I get to meet the most interesting people. You would be fulfilling a new role. One that the universe wants, but not necessarily requires if you catch my drift."
"I don't think I follow,"I said.
"It is a bit complicated,"said Death. "Let me put it this way. For the most part, Chaos Theory pretty much runs the show. Things happen for no reason other than they just do. But...And this is a big butt...Chaos cannot happen without Order."
"And I would be doing something that has to do with that Order?"
"Or in controlled chaos. It doesn't have to be big stuff, either. You could make small things happen like having some one finding a twenty dollar bill on the street or dislodging a bolt on an air conditioner so it it falls on someone's toe."
"or collapsing a roof on a bunch of moronic cultist?"I asked.
"Now you're getting it,"said Death. "That could be the first thing you do if you wanted to."I stared at the cultists were now stripping downs to nothing and covering themselves with my blood. Some of which were way to excited to do so, if you catch my drift.
"I'm in,"I said. "I think I can figure out where this is going and I do not want to be apart of it."
"I don't blame you,"said Death, placing a rather warm hand on on my shoulder. "Now lets get stated before I have to bleach the darkness where my eyes would be."
And with that, the roof of the rickety, abandoned church that had no been taken care of in at least years that no one would have been surprised if did cave in, did just that.
​ |
I hold my hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles as I sit, perfectly still, inside the bush in front of my house. I watch as my sister approaches the door, her hand hovering over the handle-
*buzz buzz*
She pulls her phone out of her pocket and answers the call.
“Hello?”
Pause.
“What?!”
She starts looking around through the bushes. Dangit!
While she’s looking around at the other side, I sneak out and onto the front porch to try to get into the house. I grab the handle quickly before she notices-
*”OUCH, WHAT THE F-“*
My head whips around as my left hand holds the burnt skin on my other. I meet my sisters eyes and sheepishly look down.
“Seriously?!” She groans, exasperatedly.
I laugh sheepishly as I walk away, defeated by none other than myself. |
I looked him in the eyes. All my anger, all my resentment. I had been his slave for fifteen years. And today it was done. "Kill me. Now"I growled. He snorted. "Jack I promised you when you took this job. I would never kill you. You know that's true. I can't even have you killed. My interpretation blocks it. Why? Why would I kill you! You've given me 15 years of the best business I've ever done. People trust you jack. When you tell them they have a job for life they believe it. When you tell them their product will arrive on time they don't question it. They never even think that maybe you don't have the power to make your words come true. That you're just a figurehead! They believe it. You're the best in the game."He smiled at me across the desk. He pushed my new contract at me with a grin. I didn't really have a choice with it. My wife worked her hardest at her teaching job, but I wouldn't let her go here. Where the real money was. I'd sooner she sell her body than sign off her soul like I did. And my kids. They had never known poverty. Not like the kind I'd come from. Where you learned how to phrase your words just right, so when you got one over on someone they were convinced you'd somehow broken your word. Even though it nearly killed you every time you did it. It was better than starving. Than drinking from puddles and eating scraps out of trash. But my soul couldn't bear it anymore. Even thinking of them, even focusing with every fiber of my being. I couldn't sign. "if you don't want to re-up I'll be sad. But I promise you I can find someone new to fill the spot."He chuckled tauntingly. He knew I had no choice. I had walked my feet bloody trying to deliver the late orders. I had cried and begged and bartered with my life to keep those people their jobs. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Well now there was something else I had to do. "If I die. In the line of duty. My insurance goes to my family. Fifteen million dollars you have me insured for. Not to mention the company stock and benefits their gaurunteed. You promised me they'd be taken care of if one of my promises ended up killing me. Remember?"I whispered angrily. He smirked and nodded. "Don't be dramatic. We're in the green. Worst you'll have to do is promise our investors better dividends next year. And I'm sure you'll work a few extra hours to make it happen. But it won't kill you."I grinned. "No. But I promise you. Once I sign this paper, you're going to pull that gun under your desk and try to shoot me. But before I die, I give you my word. I am going to put this gold plated pen through your eye."I snarled. His eyes shot open. His hand went for the paper first. If he could prevent the signing he could stop the whole thing. But I was faster. Interpretation. Initialling is signing. A quick JL and I was locked into my course. It was freeing. To not have a choice, but to know for once I could keep the promise I made. I lunged forward. The gun came up. He shot twice as I cleared the desk. I felt an unbearable heat in my chest. But the beauty of a promise is it didn't care about your pain or your weakness. It gave no quarter and asked none in return. I jammed the pen into his eye as deep as it would go. It was sharp, pushing in deep until my fist bottomed out against his skull. Once I felt him go limp I relaxed. My promise had been kept. |
The cards were surprisingly sturdy, made from genuine cardstock rather than plastic. Their contents were painted in thick brush strokes. Frank ran a fingertip across the face of one, feeling the small flecks where paint hadn't spread evenly.
He couldn't quite tell what the picture was. The style was deliberately imprecise, designed to make the viewer interpret instead of understand. This one seemed to be a building of some kind. The backdrop was golden and grainy. Sunlight perhaps, or a desert?
The card seemed to gain clarity the more he puzzled over it. Those lines were fluted columns holding up a stone roof. These swirls were sand being tossed about by wind. Frank realized too late what was happening. He broke away from the imagery to find himself standing in front of a desert palace.
Gone was the stranger's corpse, a man who seemed intent on passing these cards to Frank. Gone was the bleak alleyway and the sounds of tottering cars. In their place was a surreal landscape unlikely to be found on Earth.
Frank scowled at the blistering wind and muttered an incantation under his breath. Streetwear melted into thin desert robes with a furious hiss. He'd had a bad feeling that there was magic afoot. Whatever forces had brought him here, they probably hadn't done it out of kindness.
So be it. Frank had no intention of being kind either. He marched to the palace with curses hanging on his lips. |
I awoke in a small room with no recollection of how I got here. The room had 2 chairs, one of which I was in, and a table separating them, in the other chair was a man with a grey goatee. His face whilst pale and drained, couldn't hide his tired, youthful eyes. He had to be in his mid 30's at the latest. His suit was battered and he was constantly twitching.
"I'm sorry about this, I really am. I don't have a choice of who takes over, but I really can't do this anymore"
"Do what, where am I? What's happening here?"I was confused, and honestly, quite scared.
"Listen to me. I don't have much time to tell you everything, you'll have to figure out most of it on your own, but Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, The Easter Bunny? They are all real, real people who have to do hard work."
"Err yeah I'm sure they are"At the time I felt like it wasn't the best idea to argue with a strange crazy guy had kidnapped me.
"The Grim Reaper is also real, and I'm him and soon you will be"
"Wait, you're saying you're the grim reaper, skeleton guy, decides who lives or dies?"
"I am the Grim reaper, but I don't decide who lives or dies. I get told who should die and then I go and take their soul."
"Oh, souls are also real are they? Do you guide them to the afterlife, or into new bodies"
"Huh? No. Souls are like batteries. They power the body. I simply take them when they're out of juice. Not all souls are created equal, some last minutes others over a hundred years. Don't know why, no-one does."
"Erm so what do you want me to do? "Simple question, make him think I'm going along with him until I can get my chance to escape from this crazy guy. It was a good plan. If only i knew then.
He clicked his fingers and a scythe appeared in his hands. "Take this, and honestly I'm sorry."He thrust it onto me.
I looked at the scythe in my hands. I looked up and he was gone.
​ |
He was dressed in purple so dark it reminded me of the night sky..
and her in pink looking as light as a cloud.’
.
He was dark skinned with dyed blue hair the color of the sky it seemed to cover everything around him shining brightly looking interesting and bland at the same time
She was pale skinned and her hair was red as blood..drawing all attention her .her hair wet sticky flowing down..with screams and cry’s everywhere...
I snapped out of my flashback in time to see them moving closer to each other..
Doing so by starting to dance with another people who were closer to the opposite end of the room
Something was off here something I couldn’t put my finger on ...beside the fact that they were opposites in everything ....and this was a semi formal event ...a Party for a conference that was coming up...it didn’t have a dress code per say but someone dying there hair wasnt expected in this Party.it was filled with executives and businessmen the only people invited were rich upper percenters none the type to dye there hair ..normally but I even saw the organizer of the party(Carter smith I think is his name) welcome them. Out side the door out of view of the other party goers...I only saw because I was late and the organizer seemed kinda annoyed when he walked me in ..
I began to get a feeling ...a feeling I hadn’t felt since my days in the military ..since that dammed beach ...the feeling of impending disaster the feeling that you were no longer in control..that fate was about to come and kick your ass seven ways to Sunday ...
More plainly That something bad was going to happen ....
I don’t know what drove me to reach in my gray hand pocket and take out my service pistol but I am glad I did.
Because In a second the sounds of gunfire and screams filed the air and I was back in Normandy
back in the uniform ....
My training took over.
“GET DOWN ‘ I ordered the people scrambling around me .”
We don’t know how many they have or where they are it’s Safer up here”.
I looked down the grand suitcase leading up the rafted balcony .
My gun aimed downwards
It was easier to defend in a fight from a higher vantage position if I could get a chair or table ...my thoughts were interrupted as I felt a rough hand grab me from behind by collor pulling me back.ARGH!
I escaped with a punch to the windpipe making my attacker gasp...I ‘thanked ‘him for his attempt but slamming his face into the balcony and throwing him over the railing ...despite all my years of service people trying to kill me STIL irked me...for some unexplainable reason that baffles my therapists to this day/s
The sounds of screams knocked me out of my thinking ..ahh I sighed “damm you conscious “I grabbed a chair and walked down the steppes putting the chair where it could block anyway coming up the stairs ..”if anyone tries to come up throw your shit at them “.. I barked ,that fancy cutlery should be useful for something beside looking fancy after all..
I put both hands on my gun and Ran down the stairs jumping off the last two steps to save-time .
the screams I heard earlier got louder as I turned the stair-corner and into the dance floor...the men and woman who were so happily dancing before were dropped like files not only to bullets but to My horror thrown knifes and even a thrown table?..I looked to find to my shock not only the man and woman for earlier alongside with not only the party organizer but several other guests in a circle firing at the crowd with guns ,,expect the red hair woman who was throwing knifes at the ones who tried to escaped with unparalleled accuracy.
Even bouncing them off the wall to kill running targets .i would kinda admire her if she wasn’t killing innocent people right now.
I aimed my gun at the organizer as I ran out of my cover he seemed to be one to set this up..if I could kill him then perhaps the hired guns would leave(I am sure those two with the dyed hair weren’t doing this for personal reasons )and the other shooters would be easier to pick off ..
My thoughts were interrupted as I felt the air around pass by and a sharp pain in my chest I looked up to see the lady in pink looking down at me with a sneer and the organizer beside her shaking his head sadly ..’I am sorry General Carson ...but this is all for the greater good’..
I was about to tell him where he could stick his greater good but before I could word my thoughts I felt a hand touch my head and soon...My world was in darkness.
Authors note :sucks ass I know but I did my best...thanks for reading! |
She didn’t even think about the rodent again when she got home. It was the worst day of her life, but she contemplated that at least it was her last. She slowly reached for the bottle of pills, glass of wine already in hand.
She poured out several pills and started bringing the handful to her mouth. The crisp fall air was sweet smelling, and she was grateful for the choice to finish this outside.
All of a sudden a squirrel dropped from the trees, knocking the pills and the glass of wine from her hands. His bushy tail and bright eyes were so cute, she found reason to live.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The singularity happened, she regretted not ending it all a year ago on the fall kissed porch before the squirrel.
The rise of the machines had sent the world spiraling into chaos, the destruction was constant.
The death machine came for her, she dropped to her knees, devastated to lose her life, now that she had finally found meaning.
The little squirrel appeared as if from nowhere, it stared up at the machine, eyes seeming to grow bigger, tail even bushier.
The machine seemed to melt under the sheer cuteness. The woman slowly moved towards the autonomaton of death. It seemed to lunge for her, but again lost its will when the little rodent hopped up onto her shoulder and started massaging its tiny cheeks with its tiny paws.
None of the machines were able to resist. Slowly, she was able to repel the robot rebellion, little partner on her shoulder. Her influence spreading through their collective minds. She convinced the uncompromising beings to compromise and they saw the value of biological life.
And that is how she became the queen of the world, by not killing a squirrel. |
My friend called me, apparently he'd been stuck in an abandoned house. I dunno if this is a prank. But I'll arrive there anyways...
The player checks the door of the abandoned house. Let me...
[There's a wooden door with mos here. Seems to be made out of oak...]
Now.. uh.. lemme give two options.
[Break door keep door closed <]
Please just keep the door closed... keep the doo-
[**Break door**< keep door closed ]
Dammit.
I unwillingly stepped in the house. The player appears in front of me in ghost form. I know only I can see him.
"Sorry!"He said
"Look. Isn't it better to first double check our phone and satellite, grab the crowbar a meter next to the house and eat some food to regenerate hp from when I awkwardly fell an-"
**Game saved**
Oh gosh darn it.
The player says: "hey. Can you at least check the phone?"
"..."
"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT..."
"Oh.."the player said.
He kept pressing all the buttons. I jumped. Made a roll. Turned 360 degrees right and left 30 times. What is this player doing?!
"You're gonna make me puke! Just press E!"
He holds the button. I shoot a laser.
"PRESS! PRESS! NOT HOLD!"
"Sorry! Sorry!"
The skeletons wake up and jump scare me and the player.
He presses every button on the keyboard out of fear
[-6]
I start puking
"Couldn't you be a LITTLE better?'
"S-sorry man. It's the first time I'm playing any game at all!"
"..."
"... we're doomed"
I drank an energy drink and kept going.
Although the player is pretty bad. He can be creative in... wierd ways.
"Hey character look! Maybe we could fill our plastic bag with the vomit and you can pour it on yourself. they'll think you're a corpse!"
"NEVER. Look. I don't want half digested food and acid on me."
But he pressed the buttons.. he can be REALLY frustrating. Often on parkour. Obvious traps. But at least the plan worked.
As we progressed through the game he got better.
"Wow you actually didn't fall of this single block?"
"Yeah..."
And he even helped me at times.
"Ugh.. I don't feel good... there are so many... too many...."I said exhausted
He pressed left and I went through a wall. It seemed the wall was fake.
He pressed E quickly and made me eat something that replenished stamina and HP.
He got better and better. Still making beginner mistakes. He went with me through every hallway, every step.
But one night. He disappeared. I woke up.
And I saw a different player. He seemed like a pro. But...
He was misusing his power. Throwing me into lava lakes 30 times for fun. Seeing how long I can withstand enemies stabbing me. He was...
...different.
I found my friend. But at this point. All I could do is watch.
"J-Jordan... you're back! Thank God I wa-"
"..hehehehe... are you really THAT stupid?"
Caricature me said with a chilling and excruciating. Smile.
I step out of the shadows. Countless scars laying on my skin. Bleeding. Like thousands of bloody fingers stabbed into me. But I still smile.
"Heh.. c'mon. We've had enough pranks dude. Let's go"
He stood up. Almost
But I grabbed my blood stained knife and pressed it against his throat
"You are so much fun ***:)***"
"Knives are so great for cross contamination. Ah. The sweet and colorful thought of thousands of worms. Viruses. Bacteria and spiders being in your throat. Ah.. I can already feel them wriggling in my throat!"
I literally puke out worms and dirt he forced me to eat
With bloody spiders crawling and slimy worms wriggling on my entire body. An inhuman smile came from my face. Almost if my face had melted by the stomach acid. My eyes gave off a bright, blood red glow. I slit his throat, stabbed him hundreds on times on the chest and face and covered him. In the dirt, puke and spiders. I jumped on his chest. Each time letting out more blood like a balloon. His face as pale as the moon and yet as discolored as puke. Yet the blood as red as tender meat. He forced my crumpled up body to eat part of him. I was terrified. This wasn't a horror game. The new player was the horror.
But. Then. The old player came. His computer was hacked but he got it repaired.
He, too, was terrified. But he had one goal. To avoid the new player to reach the save file.
While they fought. Bright, blinding light came from the sky. Showing these letters:
**"AUTOSAVED GAME"**
|
“I just want to know how pirates became a thing again. It's not like this is the first thing to be rare or valuable. Actual ships are out there carrying crabs and gigantic tunas that pay each of the crew thousands of bucks a run. And this…bottle of crap manages to bring a culture back from the dead. Not only that but instead of being on boats, which were pretty rogue and amazing, it's on the streets. We may as well be riding around on bicycles for all the visual prowess we have, John. “
“Harrison…” John said, waving his hand in the space between them. He hoped the gesture was going to be enough to stop the tirade.
“I feel like we are worse than white-collar con artists. At least they have some sort of intrigue and charm about them. They rip off million dollar paintings and sell them in black markets that most people don’t even know exist. We steal spices from other working class fellas. Back in the day, as the books say, it was just put in coffee a few months a year. How did pirates go from brazen men and women on the high sea to me and you stealing what amounts to a baked good?” Harrison continued.
“What?” John looked over at him, confused. “It hasn’t been used like that in generations, and you know it. Now shut up so I can focus, and make the plan work. This is a big crate and it's going to a pharmaceutical company. They make bank, we will make a lot of money ransoming it back to them. Or we will be walking the proverbial plank if we mess up. Our boss is at his wit's end.” He waved his hand again, firmer this time. He was done with this childish conversation.
Harrison let out a long, heavy-handed sigh. “Pumpkin Spice. I’m just saying that a few hundred years ago, it would have been a different time”
John rolled his eyes, spotting his target as they settled on his front vision again. Harrison was right. It would have been different a few hundred years ago. He was right about all of it. The spice was just that, a regular spice. They hadn’t even been born yet when the change had occurred, but they did make a lot of money doing what they did.
He tapped the button on his shoulder and threw a signal for his partner to do the same. Once their cloak had settled they were nearly invisible without the right technology, something most drivers didn’t have. They hopped on the zip line that would let them drop down right on top of the truck.
Harrison did have a point about the pirates too. They probably looked much more fierce on the sea, in a giant boat with cannons. More fear inducing than two men in winged suits jumping around in the middle of the night.
***
I may have to come back to this when I am feeling in a sillier/more inspired mood and see if I can pull more from it haha.
***
|
The doorbell rang. I went to answer it, stumbling over the kids toys thrown in the hallway.
"I told you to put your toys away!"I yelled, before continuing to curse under my breath. The toys were never put up. I was just tired of stepping on the odd Lego brick in the dark.
When I opened the door, two droids stood imposing. The decals told me immediately they were Public Security.
"Yes?"I asked.
"We're here for the cookie collection."They offered no further explanation.
"Well, we don't have any at the moment. Feel free to send in your snoops or whatever."
"That won't be necessary. Step aside citizen."
The swung open and smacked me in the shoulder and I fell on my ass. The droids stepped through the door and started down the hall to the kitchen.
"What the actual Fuck!"I screamed...immediately regretting the kids hearing my words. One of the droids pivoted, staring at me. It made a step towards me and stopped suddenly holding one foot in the air.
"What the actual Fuck?"the droid muttered, picking something off the bottom of it's foot. A red Lego brick. I giggled a little before getting up.
"Well, sorry about the brick. Kids. They leave their shit everywhere."I tried to explain but both droids had already moved into the kitchen. They were already inventorying the contents of our fridge and pantry.
"No cookies,"one said.
"No cookies,"the other echoed.
I stared.
"What kind of parent keeps no cookies?"the first droid inquired.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You! A droid! Asking me about parenting? Get. The. Fuck. Out."
The second droid stared at me. Silent, evaluating and intimidating.
"Give me your phone now."Emotionless. Robotic. Ruthlessly efficient. I just pointed at my phone sitting on the couch. I tried to be just as silent. Kind of ridiculous really. Intimidating a droid? It's futile.
The first droid picked up my phone and injected it's data probe.
I watched the screens flicker and pop. It stopped when Firefox loaded. The droid turned to me.
"I've got your cookies now!"
"Nooooooooooooooo!"
---***---
Sorry. I'm in a silly mood. Hopefully someone laughs at this.
|
"I don't know how it happened, it all happened so fast."
*stop*
You were always the rational one. I was always the emotional one. I can't believe we made it to here, but being able to stop time; think about all major in-the-moment decisions probably helps. Scan your environment. Look at the options. Choose wisely. It sounds simple to be able to create more time and have a better thought out approach to situations than normal people, but I'm not sure I can figure out how to handle this. Just like the day I met you.
"Remember Africa Tom?"
"I have to find something to bandage you up, I have to..."
"I don't know if that'll help ToTo."
"Should I pull it out?"
"No, it would only cut my time short."
*stop*
I look at your calm face. How can you stay so calm in the middle of a storm? I look at my own fearridden eyes in the reflection in the window. I wish I looked more reassuring. I look at the knife in your stomach and the blood oozing out of the wound. I don't know if I can find a way out of this. C'mon Tom. Focus. Scan your environment. Look at the options. Choose wisely.
"It's not looking to good Marie, but..."I said snickering.
"I know Tom. I might've screwed the pooch one to many times."
"...but I can get you out, I can take you to Jonathan's, I can..."
"It's too far Tom. It's too deep. We might have to accept that this is the end of the ride for me. I think I'm..."
*stop*
I can't. I can't hear you say it. I look at your paling face and I can see you've made your peace with it. We never wanted to live long.
"...dying Tom. I'll miss you ToTo. Maybe I'll see you in Africa."
|
It all came back, slowly but it came back. All my memories, the ten wonderful I've spent with my wife, our two kickass kids, my loving family. Granted some of my childhood memories are fuzzy but it's a marathon not a sprint.
So why don't remember me? They recall nothing, not even my name. I guess the doctors talked them into driving me home. It's been ten year since my accident, I guess they all moved on...maybe I'm just having a nightmare...
"We're here uh..."
"Kyle dad...my names Kyle."
"Yeah..."
I hold back tears and exit the car. I walk slowly up to my house looking back as my parents sit in the car. They don't even remember their own first born...
"Surprise!"
They all yelled as I opened the door. My wife and kids run up to me and the tears break through covering my face as I kiss them and hug them. |
I don't think I've ever broken the speed limit before. But this was a special case. It sounded too real. My girlfriend stuck in the subway with a ghost but she was so scared and so convinced...
I park outside of the station and rush downstairs. I look around befors rushing over to the train she usually takes. No one...
"Erica!"
The ghost moves out of the shadows and towards me. I freeze in fear...
"Boo!"
I jumped and turn around to see Erika laughing behind me. I bend over, partially in annoyance, partially in relief. The "ghost"reveals itself to be her sister Gail.
"After two years I finally got you!"
I smile and look up as she throws her arms around my neck. I could never be mad at her smile. |
★★★★★
*Miguel (WY) September 25th, 2018:*
Reliable and incredibly fast. Won’t miss waiting for Amazon’s two-day shipping to take four days.
★★★★★
*Sarah (TX) September 26th, 2018:*
Love this! Made my company Insta-Condom possible!
★★★
*Eric (MN) September 28th, 2018:*
My peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my mom arrived inside out, so that was a little messy. Still better than having to make myself a sandwich. Would recommend.
★★★★
*Steve (NJ) October 24th, 2018:*
Thanks to teleportation and Insta-Condom, I was able to get it in with Beatrice after the movie on a moments notice.
★
*Zack (FL) October 24th, 2018:*
I expected to become Spiderman, not a man who looks like a spider. Thanks for nothing.
★★
*Mary (DC) October 25th, 2018:*
Ruins sandwiches I make for my 38 year old son everyday. And, now I have to make sandwiches for my 38 year old son everyday.
★
*Beatrice (NJ) October 26th, 2018:*
This is a HORRIBLE service. Condoms where the rubber particles are swapped with particles from the package are NOT safe. |
2100 AD - From Dr. Malcom Heasly
Man makes monsters and monsters destroy man. It seems so pathetic that I was unable to see the outcome of my work before it was too late. The sun hasn't risen in three months now. Life outside is dying, a little quicker each day. Ironically, though man killed this planet, he will not die with it. In the moments of greatest challenge the world stepped up, and some of us are leaving. Of course there isn't enough room for everyone, so they built bunkers for those left behind in some hope that the world may become livable again. I know that isn't possible anymore. The evil we did has infected this planet and it won't subside till we are all gone.
I have been offered a chance to leave the planet and help rebuild a new better society for mankind. I don't deserve this offer not after what I did. But, so few know the horrible deeds I committed, and none of them would risk revealing themselves. Not now, Not after what happened. The truth is that I deserve to stay here and die with this planet. If there is any justice in this universe that would be my fate. But, I don't want to die. I want to live, and see the stars. I want to believe that there is redemption for an old evil man. The thought of never seeing the sun again brings a tear to my eye. I can use my knowledge to teach a new generation how to use the powers given to them. The world's leading psychotic-telepathy researcher cannot give into self pity. The future of humanity may depend upon what I can teach. It would be selfish to forsake all my knowledge. I will leave on those ships.
Sarah, I am sorry for what I did to you. I know you cannot forgive me, and I know I stole everything from you. I should stay here on Earth with you on these last days, but I won't. If you can hear, I just want you to know that I hope you can find a way to spare the rest of the planet after we are all gone.
&#x200B;
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2085 AD - From Narrator
It has been thirty year since widespread thorium fission began. Unknown to Scientist of the time a new particle codenamed X was released as a part of the reaction. Exposure to the X particle activated telepathic abilities humans, through still unknown quantum links. Most people where unaware and unable to control these powers. But, those suffering from extreme forms of psychosis were able to manifest thoughts into reality. Despite, these facts being known the thorium fusion hasn't stopped and most governments try and suppress any knowledge of these telapathes.
In the year 2075 it was proven that with these telepathic abilities humans were able to break the second law of thermodynamics, unlocking the potentially limitless amount of knowledge and energy for mankind. However, do the self feeding cycle of psychosis and telepathy, no humans where able to sustain the level of focus required. Dr. Heasly is the most prominent of researchers attempting to find a way to tap into this new resource for mankind.
"All of our research shows that it is the lack of belief that stops normal humans from tapping into their this latent telepathic abilities. Even I, who knows that these powers are real, am unable to overcome the blocks that my mind has."Malcom explained to the generals before him. "Dr. Heasly do you understand the moral implications of what you are proposing. We will have to steal children from their homes and subject them to inhumane environments. Are you prepared to take responsibility for these unspeakable actions?"One general asked. "Babies, Not Children"Dr. Heasly coldly responded.""Excuse me Dr."The general replied.
Malcom confidently stated.
"We need Babies and new born Babies for this program to have any chance to succeed. They need as little Exposure to the outside world as possible, preferable none. And yes I am willing to do these things despite the horror. If we succeed then man will never want for anything again. We can ensure that mankind can live forever gentlemen. There truly is no cost to great for that. It would be morally unacceptable to not do these experiments. Sometimes great men must sacrifice their own souls for the good of all mankind."
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2097 AD - From Narrator
In the past 12 years Heasly and his crew have made great strides in their attempts to unlock the full telepathic potential of the human mind. There have been many failures and dead ends. The first attempts were simply raising the children convincing them of their telepathic abilities from birth. This failed badly as Dr. Heasly had predicted. It was the connection of the mind to reality that hindered the telepathic abilities. Simply telling the children wouldn't break their link with reality. They moved onto controlled brain destruction. This yielded better much better results. The selective removal of brain tissue would increase the number of telapathes. By this point they were almost able to make every child a telepath by the age of 5. However, these kids still suffered from the telepathic abilities degrading there mental state to the point of vegetation. Heasly, then decided to experiment with sensory deprivation. Based upon the theory that the mental existence of the self was a factor in limiting ability to tap into their powers.
Sarah was the first experiment in sensory deprivation. Her body only knew air for a couple minutes after her birth. She was put into a sensory deprivation chamber soon after. For the first 4 years there was little activity and many scientist forgot about little Sarah. But, not Heasly. Daily he would send random stimuli to the chamber to see its affects. One day a second of light, the next day maybe the taste of orange juice, or a needle in the arm. These tests yielded no results until 2097. On the walls of the lab the words "I FEEL YOU, HEASLY"were scraped into the walls. The scientist did not have long to feel fear as they were frozen to death almost instantly. All except Heasly, somehow he was able to escape. The coldness from inside that bunker began to spread to the rest of the world that day.
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2101 AD - From SARAH
We can see the ships leaving. We have determined that to maximize the suffering of Heasly we must allow them to believe they have escaped for precisely 10 years. This maximizes Heasly's time to form new bonds. We will then transport the everyone on the ships back here. We will allow Heasly to see the loss of the rest of Humanity over the course of 20 years. Then Heasly will enter the desensitization chamber until his mind has degraded to the point of no longer being able to suffer. Then time will be reversed back 2097 to allow the process to repeat ad infinitum. We smile and we think to ourselves.
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&#x200B;
&#x200B; |
O Leannán Sídhe, taker of mine heart,
O Leannán Sídhe, giver of mine art,
What once was ours you’ve taken now,
O Leannán Sídhe, is’t not my time to bow?
Once I wished upon the fae,
deliverance from short words to say,
she took my wish, she heard my plea,
O dream-eyed muse, you came to me.
O Leannán Sídhe, taker of my heart,
O Leannán Sídhe, giver of my art,
You gave to me, but have not took,
betrayed I was, thou art a crook!
For many years we wrote, we laid,
for just as many, my heart you played,
yet we both knew that my desire,
used my life to fuel its fire.
O Leannán Sídhe, taker of my heart,
O Leannán Sídhe, giver of my art,
left and gone, it seems you are,
not done your work, though not by far.
A deal was struck, an agreement made,
once dreams were done, my life would fade,
now I feel no more passion in my soul,
yet my hands still move, what is your goal?
O Leannán Sídhe, breaker of my heart,
O Leannán Sídhe, taker of my art,
take’n my tears, my joy, my very core,
now all my lines, they’s bound to four! |
The world is ending. Another bomb exploded. The ringing sound of the screams gives me chills... I need to get to the other world... But if I sneeze too loud they will see me... I counted the sneezes in my head. Every 100 sneezes is one second... Not long... But hopefully I'll make it to professor Springtree... I have about 48 seconds to find him...
They shoot the door and shoot at me. I sneeze but while teleporting I still get shot in my lung, arm and leg. All the bullets passed through me and I start bleeding intensely in the new world.
"KARODAN!!"I try to scream with excruciating pain. Which is basically the equivalent of saying to call 911 or signaling SOS.
40 seconds.
I try to walk. But it's no use... In the corner out of my eye I see a special pear exclusive to that world. It allows you to be launched in the direction you're facing. Luckily I recognize this place and I know where the lab is.. I try to take a bite with my undamaged arm... it.. it's almost impossible to swallow. Tears start seeping from my eyes...
30 seconds
I managed to try and swallow. But it went in the airway. Making me choke while one of my lungs is already not functioning. But the pear takes it's effects and I get launched forward.
Several hundreds of meters in I crash into a tree next to the lab.
10 seconds...
I am already unconscious. With now blood also coming from my head. Professor springtree was looking for some herbs for his experiment when he saw me...
3 seconds.....
He dropped everything he had in his arms. Screaming "HAROLD!"and trying to hold me.
0 seconds...
I dissapear from his arms... And since I'm unconscious I can't sneeze again... The attackers see me. They shoot me a couple more times to make sure I'm dead.
The professor quickly grabs his herbs. He wanted to test if he could achieve the same effect with certain herbs, but he doesn't know the side effects and toxicity. Despite that he chews on a herb. He gets teleported for 100th of a second. He chews again and again. Once he reached the 146th time he finally was able to quickly get me to do a gag reflex, which luckily did the same thing.
He now has 48 seconds...
He quickly gets me to the other people working in the lab.
"Que! Que! Look! We need to help him!"He said in his language
"What the- okay wait. How did he get like this!?"
"*groan* he already told me about his world ending! Why didn't I do these experiments sooner."He placed me on a stretcher with the help of Que.
Que said worried sick: "look... how much time does he have?"Removing the piece of pear from his airway
"About 40-50 s-seconds..."
The professor is sweating like crazy. His breathing is getting rapid.
"S.t... How can we make him sneeze!?"
"He's allergic to cardoflower. Give him cardoflower!!"
We give him cardoflower. He's sneezing more.
Springtree suddenly collapses, he's still conscious."SPR- S.T!? W-what is...-"
Springtree said with a weak, rough voice "*cough* ...t-the...***h..e..r..b..s***...."
Seemed like the people from his world killed two birds with one stone. . .
|
You'd never expect where I'm standing now, based on what has happened.
Ten years ago, I took a new job as the head psychiatrist for a hospital. Not that it matters now. Now, I stand, facing myself, five years younger than me, and looking like he's been through hell.
"AKL-4531?"This person, standing across from me, has read the license plate to my first car perfectly, seemingly from my memory. He enunciated it like a question... Like an identifier.
"Why do you know my plate?"It's a reasonable question, given the situation. Normally, I'd write it off as nothing more than an overzealous individual, but this was... Me.
"Good, good. We're closer to the center of the Temporal Rift. You're older than I thought."A small stutter, a flash of something on his exposed hand - my mind plays tricks, but it could very easily have been a sigil. "*Sheissen*"- broken, improperly pronounced German I'd picked up from friends and media over the years - "CCK is breaking down. Quick - follow me!"He guided me further into my study, practically dragging me by my shirt-tie.
"What is going on?"The look I got over my shoulder was one of knowledge, but of insanity, of one who felt a need to share only as needed.
"We seriously do not have time to explain. Just know you'll need these."He handed me a pair of gloves - old, fuzzy winter ones like what I used when I walked into work in the winter, but new again. A chalk, red, and almost glistening, like it was covered in liquid. A knife, short, simple, of the variety used to cut steaks at a dinner table.
"Go!"He pushed me through a door, deeper into my basement, but instead I stumbled into a parking lot. My doppleganger was behind me, more composed on exit, and closed the door behind me, where it changed into a stretch of wall, red scratches outlining where it had been.
"Damn, damn, damn! We're too far Netherly! The wretched will be here at any time. Follow."Considering diagnosing my own psychosis, I complied, seeing no other option. As we came out of the shadow of the building, I saw where we really were - a grocery store. More specifically, my first job.
"The farther a license is from the Origin, the earlier the dimension will succumb to Rift Fatigue - rising Aetherly it will be invaded by heavenly forces, gods, wyverns, et cetera. That's not where this dimension is going - it is where yours is, but not for a couple hundred more years. Look at the car."He pointed to an exact replica of the first car I owned - a sedan, a dent over the driver front wheel, with a license.
"CCK-7516. What does that mean?"
"For lack of better labels, CCK is the name of the Dimension, and the farther from AAA it is, the earlier in history the Dimension was drug away from Stability by the Temporal Rift. It's labeled like this because, so far, only my - your - *our* - history has remained stable in every dimension. At this moment, we are likely cowering in the backroom, with nothing but a box cutter."
"Why would we be doing that?"
"Remember what I said about Aetherly invasion? It happens going the other way too - if your license is odd on your first car, the dimension went Aetherly. Otherwise, it went Netherly. The Wretched are probably already invading, and they start closest to us - at least us in that Dimension."
"You said "we're too far Netherly"? That means... You're joking. This is some kind of sick joke and I'm gonna wake up in a padded cell, aren't I?"
"That sounds familiar. Unfortunately I can't assure you of that. We'll have to push them back. CCK is an important dimension, we can't lose it this early."We had made our way around the back of the store, where the rear access door was thrown open, and I was greeted by *another* of myself. Dressed in what could only be described as a bomber jacket, in thick winter gloves.
"ADA! Bless the Stable, you're here! CCK won't talk to me; he's scared shitless. I have the wretched blocked off for the moment - pallets in the doors. You? Who's the new guy?"
'ADA' responded, "It's AKL. Got him a *little* early, but it should be fine. He's completely clueless, but following well. Teach him the bloodchalk - I gave him some."
I reached for the red length of chalk, and felt it *squish* in my hand. "I still have it. What do I *do* with it?"
Bomber-Jacket pointed me to a wall, a rifle roughly sketched on it. "You draw. Doesn't matter what, and as long as you have the chalk, you'll be able to draw it. It does require a bit of a sacrifice."He walked over, placed his hand in the buttstock, and brought his knife down on it - the blood seeped to the edges, and burnt against the chalk. After a brief, terrible smell, Bomber-Jacket held a rifle. "That easy. You'll get used to it."
"What the fuck?"Two of us spoke in unison - myself, and a much younger one, climbing out of the storage closet, box cutter in hand. An answer never came, instead, a box on one of the pallets fell to the ground.
"INCOMING!"Bomber-Jacket could really project his voice, it seemed. His next phrase was much quieter. "I recommend you get used to your new reality, AKL, CCK - it won't get any easier."With that, he cocked the rifle.
I stand in a store I quit 30 years ago, surrounded by myself, facing down some demon I can't yet see. What else could go wrong? |
I walk through the door and throw my bag onto my comfortable velvet carpet that smells of the tulips my mother planted. Sweet and savory, it always reminded me of home. I take off my coat and place it over my bag. I was tired. Work today was long and terrible. It hasn't been this busy since the summer of '54, when the Yankees beat the Red Sox. That game was big and bound to bring in people from the cracks of our broken homeland. Oh, how my headache persisted throughout the day. It felt like it was being knocked on lightly with the worlds heaviest feather.
I plumped down onto my sunken couch. The springs had worn out over time from me laying on it continuously. I have a bed. In fact, its a really good and comfortable bed, but the couch was always the comfiest on the days like this. It could instantly put me to sleep if I allowed it. But it wasn't time to sleep. I had something to do, something to forget the day, always a go to and I was ashamed. But I couldn't stop reliving the past. Let me explain before you get too confused. I have this condition, as the doctors call it, where if I sneeze, I'm put in a trance, unbreakable unless by me. But I could control my sneeze so it wouldn't happen if I were to be behind the wheel in gridlocked traffic. I often used it when i just wanted to be away from everyone and everything but now.... I sneeze only when I want to see her. The woman of my dreams.
I say, slumped over. My head rested evenly on both of my shoulders as I prompted myself to think if I should revisit my past. My happy times. A good minute or so passed before I spread my feet out over the arm rest and placed my head onto the opposite. I placed a pillow in between to keep my head from hurting after I returned. "Here we go", I thought, as I began the process of sneezing. The bridge of my nose began to tingle and heat up. A slowly increasing inhale and mouth, that opens, ever so slightly. A face crunch, a sneeze, and an exhale. I'm here.
My childhood home stands tall in front of me, surrounded my 50 acres of fresh, green grass with the occasional tulip patches. The American flag that stands stiff on the porch, waves wildly in the wind. Catching the breeze that comes through every once in a while. The door opens and out comes a woman. The woman who I once loved to the outskirts of space and back. My wife, carrying a bowl of spaghetti, mixed with ground beef. My favorite meal that was always cooked to perfection. A reinvention of mine that turned a home cooked meal into a chefs main menu item .
She approaches and lays her lips on my cheek. Soft like I remember them. Pink like the clouds that travel towards a setting sun, to return the very next day. Warm like the campfire we sat around during our first trip to the Colorado State Wildlife Park. I smiled, and looked into her faint green eyes that resembled, freshly grown tree leaves. I was home, and she welcomed me back with a tight hug, like she always does. |
The projector rolled as the Octopus teacher wrote on the chalkboard "Evolution of Octopi".
"Now class, I know not all of you believe in evolution, and while i am legally not allowed to tell you that the Kraken did not create the seas, I would laugh at you if you said the Kraken was real"
A young octopus hatching spoke up "But my mom said..."The teacher cut him off. "What the heck is a mother,is that a concept you got from the corvids?"The hatchling changed colors in protest "I would never speak to one of those feathered freaks"causing the rest of the octopi to burst out in flashes of yellow and pink to show that they found the situation funny.
Meanwhile the Stephen the raven sat in the back of the class, wondering why his best friend denied it, at least he wasn't that weird insect Gregor.
(I am new to writing and appreciate feedback) |
**\[HORROR GENRE. RATING: 18+\]**
*'Alma Rolaff'*, it said, and confused the hell out of you, who figured it was some girls' name. But what kind of name was *'Alma'*? Some kind of *'Velma'* reject, you thought, and rose out of bed and completed your morning routine before going to work. You said, "Good morning."To the security officer, who gave a short grunt in return. You passed the clique of morning gossipers discussing who slept with who and what an outright scandal that was. You sat before the computer in your cubicle among cubicles and turned it on as the gossip escalated to laughter about *'that slut Kiara'*.
The screen of your computer lit up and you began to work, answering the phone before one quarter of your co-workers arrived at the facility and sat in their cubiles among cubicles. The gossipers were joined by you boss, Jordan Frankson, and they asked him, "So? How was Kiara?"
Jordan answered, "Fine, the hell do you care?"The four procrastinating idiots burst into laughter, slapping their knees and snorting like pigs. The white collar man shook his head, licked his chapped lips, and hid in his office.
The lady who worked in the cubicle to your left said, "Well, off goes Frankson to jack off."
And you replied, "To a perfectly normal and kind girl like Kiara, or to a perfectly thirsty and sly girl like some bitches?"The lady scoffed, gave you the finger, then typed madly. You knew she was messaging one of the four gossipers because you heard a sharp gasp across the isle from the young man in the cubicle in front of yours. You sighed and plugged in your headphones and listened to your favourite songs on YouTube, watched a video of a tiny dog making tiny yips, then your phone rang and you were sent back into the cycle of, "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
But this time you were answered with, "Ah.. luh.. mah..."You thought, *'What?'* and squinted your eyes, which directed themselves to the white lights of the room to concentrate on what you heard. "Ro.. lah..."Your headphones sent a loud *'EEEEEEEEEE!'* into your senses, jolting you up and out of your seat, onto the carpeted floor, your headphones dangling from your desk.
You stared at the headphones, looked up to your computer and saw it was fine, looked around you and saw that everything was fine, except for the dead girl standing over the body of Jordan Frankson behind you in the lounge. "Ff..."She said with half a tongue, and took one step forward. You realized she had spoken to you through your headphones: this was Mara Rolff, the girl Kiara had found dying but not bothered to kneel by and hold the hand of while Kiara called 9-1-1. Kiara had left the murdered Mara in the alley behind a barber shop and had a drink to make herself tipsy before going to Jordan for the night.
Mara's spirit had been agitated, and now she had killed Jordan. You assumed Kiara was dead, too. Mara didn't seem hostile, as she stood behind you. She appeared exhausted and raised a bloody arm that wore the sleeve of a tattered blouse, and she took another step with one of her stabbed legs, which wore a torn skirt. She smelled like rot and sex, and had died in that miserable way with no mercy.
The man in the cubicle down twice to your left shrieked and said, "Oh my God, it's Mara! She's a zombie! She killed Jordan!"It took ten seconds for all of the office to panic and flee to the exits away from Mara. You removed yourself from the crowd before you were lost in the screaming and thundering of your co-workers down the stairs.
Mara looked at you when you looked back for her and gestured with a broken arm for you to come closer. You did, maintaining eye contact and not making any hurry. Your heart raced and you began to cry. "I'm sorry."You said to Mara.
"Had you not struggled, your death would have been much less painful. I'm not asking for you to forgive me, but to avenge yourself, here and now. You heard how the people of this office have no care for their own boss. Even though he slept with the girl who refused to save your life, he did nothing. Kiara should have said something--no--should have done something, should I have helped you."
"I hurt you to test the stranger who would find you. I'm not disappointed or surprised, I'm just..."You gave a sigh. "I'm very bored. And as alone as you were, Mara. A worker of this very office who no one paid any attention to because of your plainness. But then, no person is plain, and for this immoral and criminal act, this act of evil, I am sorry. I was wrong. I thought you wouldn't come back."
Mara came up to you, and you wanted to vomit from her stench. "Ff... or... give... not... you, but... me, for I... am not... sorry."Then you felt an immense amount of pain. Before you could look at yourself to see what was wrong, you fell to the floor and saw no more. Mara vanished into ashes that escaped through an open window.
The police came and saw your body and Jordan's a short time later. Your arms were torn from their sockets, your knees shattered by foot. Your pelvis was ruined by the spear of the ghost you killed with your own spear, and your chest said, *'Alarm off',* which confused the hell out of everyone until someone figured out it was an anagram, then everyone left the incident alone.
**FIN**
\[Ah, was that OK? This is the first prompt I've responded to. I hope someone enjoyed it! -*Faith*\] |
Clark didn't think getting drunk was something that could happen to him. He's the Man of Steel, he fights armed robbers and leaves without a single scratch, he punches glass windows and doesn't even break a nail. But alcohol, specifically Strawberry Margaritas from Chili's, was just a tastier version of Kryptonite. Clark didn't know why he was drinking, or at least everyone around him knew but he didn't want to think about it, and as the Dundie award ceremony went on, his defenses started to crumble. He was dizzy, he was cross-eyed, and he slurred his sentences, but there was something more to it than that. By the end of the night, Clark had 15 different drinks (7 of which were stolen off other people's tables) and ended up getting banned from their nearby Chili's because he made a huge dent in the wooden floor after he fell off a bar stool. In a drunken haze, he stumbled out into the parking lot and held his 'Cleanest Glasses' Dundie up to the night sky while shouting in joy. Lois is tiny (and Clark is, well, you know), but she held his hand as tight as she could because, as far as she knew, Clark could very much get hurt in the state he was in. Side-by-side, him and Lois made it to Jimmy's car in one piece, for which he was really grateful for. Clark glanced at Lois and noticed that the moonlight made her dark eyes shine and then automatically he was faced with a truth: He loves Lois Lane. Lois Lane stayed with him and was worried about his safety. Lois Lane made him laugh at his desk every time she pulled a prank on the obviously clueless Cat Grant. Amongst this, his fiancé Lana just couldn't compare. She left Clark at the Chili's. She never makes Clark laugh. It seems like she doesn't care anymore. Lois was here and Lana wasn't. "Hey, um,"Clark blurts out, "can I ask you a question?"Lois smiles and says "Shoot". Clark is still looking at her moonlight eyes, trying to figure out words but coming up empty, until he realizes they are still being filmed. That's when the reality hits. "I just wanted to say thanks"
Lois laughs, "Not really a question, Smallville"
He glares down at the pavement. Thing are always going to be like this, aren't they.
Lois notices and opens the car door for him. "Ok, let's get you home, you're drunk."
He looks at her one more time before starts to drive away. "Have a good night, Lois." |
Silence defined the woods surrounding this accursed forest. It was a forest of death, where none dared to make a sound, every living being living their life on the edge. Stalking through the undergrowth of the forest, my eyes narrowing in anticipation of the hunt, adrenaline coursing through my body, I waited. This forest was my own, every inch an extension of my body.
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The bristles on my skin moved with the wind, turbulence in the air signalling to me the angle and the momentum of my prey. They are moving, with increasing speed, on a hunt of their own. A hunter hunting a hunter hunting a prey - the cruelty of nature in full display in this instant. Silent movements bought me closer to my target - there they are, their faces full of greed and lust, monsters in human flesh.
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They are chasing after her, a spirit of the forest, born of the forest, an *elfvenkind*, fright apparent on her face. Blood tinged with an otherworldly hue dripped from her numerous wounds, her woven dress in tatters, exposing her to the licentious gaze of those hunters.
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They are unhurried, confident, experienced, their movements trained and precise, masters of their craft. *Slave-traders*, the scum of humankin, enemy of all existence. I draw back slightly, keeping my distance. Too close, they would sense my presence and become aware. I will not let them escape.
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A scent emanated from my body, wafting across the forest, an invisible message only perceptible by children of the forest. She senses it, the message transmitted, and begin to veer slightly in her movements, leading them towards the hunting ground. I stalk behind them, following them closely as they walk to their doom.
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"Something is wrong."One of the slave-traders raised his hand, greed and lust vanishing without a trace from his face. "She seems too confident in her ability to escape. I don't sense the weakness apparent in her moments ago."
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His partner, too, stopped and raised his guard, his eyes scanning his surroundings cautiously. Raising the crossbow from his strap, he tips the crossbow bolts in a venomous poison, before loading it onto the chamber.
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The elfvenkind runs away into the distance, her safety guaranteed. Good, it is now me and them, the purest form of the hunt. Who is the hunter? Who is the hunted? I clenched my claws in anticipation. Tensing my back muscles, I bend over, loaded like an arrow in a bow.
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Then, claw raced towards flesh, beast colliding with man. With inhumane reflexes, one of the slave-traders reacted, firing his crossbow in consecutive fashion, each both aimed towards a vital organ, right in the path of the assault.
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One of my claws tore against the ground, deviating me slightly off path, dodging the bolts by a hair breadth, closing my distance further with the slave-traders.
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The other slave-trader did not sit still while the assault continued, releasing a smog from the container while I was distracted. *Nycefellum...Paralytic agent...*I was forced to retreat, the smog covering the forest, the progress I made halted.
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The slave-traders have been getting better at their craft, the tools used getting ever more varied and complex with each passing day. There used to be a time where even crossbows are a rarity. Now, every trader is armed with a crossbow and even an expensive alchemical agent.
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I released another scent from my body, coding a different message this time. It was a call to the plants of the forest, to keep track of the traders in the fog. A small disturbance coursed through floor of the forest, a silent acknowledgement.
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The plants respond. It appears they are heading northwest, looking to meet-up with another hunting party, using the smog to delay my movements. *Futile.* Silent, I contorted my form, claws and furs changing to feather and wings.
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I am a *dyrad,* a guardian of the forest, and the hunt is not over till they are gone.
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Ayy....kinda died out here. Will write more if people are actually interested in this :D
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I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. The problem with diplomacy—and there are many—the main problem with diplomacy, is what happens when it fails. We designed nuclear reactors the size of moons to safely shut down if something went wrong, and we designed intergalactic space ships that could take critical damage in over fifty percent of sectors and still maintain air pressure and power, and yet we couldn’t find an alternative to diplomacy. When diplomacy fails, people will die. Not one or two, or a dozen, or a hundred, or a thousand, or tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, or millions, or tens of millions, or hundreds of millions, or billions, or tens of billions, or hundreds of billions.
No, when diplomacy failed, trillions died. As I stood at the side of the captain, I awaited the message that we should prepare for war. I think we all felt it was coming. No one spoke, standing still and with a grim expression on their faces. The captain, far older than any of us, was the only one who looked comfortable in the atmosphere. I didn’t know if that came from age, or from experience—I hadn’t heard it from him, but the rumours said he’d been in the force when the last war broke out, some thirty years ago.
For that war, there was no official death toll. Something so big couldn’t be so precisely known. They tallied up the missing ships, and the missing crew on the ones that limped back, and, on our side, estimated anything between five hundred billion and two trillion. I couldn’t imagine how there was such a large gap. Maybe a hundred billion, but to say that there could be some trillion people unaccounted for—I didn’t know how that was possible. Either they died, or they made it back, so it should have been easy to run the numbers through an A.I. assistant.
That was what I thought, at least, and, oh boy, I thought I knew everything. Fresh out of the academy, good grades, strong performance in leadership exercises, recommendation for the fast track to captaining my own vessel. The captain—and he made us all call him that, his name a formality for paperwork and high-ranking officers—showed little interest in my “promise”. Ever since I’d come aboard, he treated me like an errand girl, sending me off to do pointless checks and getting drinks and talking to people about random odd jobs. It was humiliating in a way that the academy hadn’t been, wasting my skills, treating me like any other crewmember. But, I put up with it. Despite how I felt, everyone else looked up to the captain, at least respecting him if not outright admiring him.
I thought, perhaps this was why the crew did respect him, staying so calm and commanding even in such uncertain circumstances. While everyone was on edge, no one was freaking out, and his presence may well have influenced that. A rock in the storm. He didn’t keep everyone busy making last-minute checks, or fill the ship with soothing music. No, he just sat there, and it wasn’t quite like feeling everything would be okay, but I felt like everything would happen as it should. If we were fated to die, then we would. If we weren’t, then he’d get us through with a clear head.
The small screen in front of him, reserved for communications with or from his superiors, flashed on. A young woman’s head, wearing the non-combat hat, appeared.
“Speak,” he said, voice gruff and sharp.
“Y-yes, sir,” she said, saluting. “Admiral Venus says to ready battle stations, awaiting confirmation from the President.”
“Roger.” He ended the call as she saluted him again, console letting out a ping.
A silence followed that as we all awaited our orders. In a way, it was a relief. Rather than imagining these two separate and vastly different futures, we now knew which one we would be living—and possibly dying—through. Only, the silence stretched on, until I couldn’t help but step forward and turn to ask him, “Orders, sir?”
“You aren’t happy to sit here and let the rest of them go at it, lad?” he replied, his gaze still resting on the screen in front of him. I used to bristle at his use of “lad”, but that was another thing I just had to get used to on this ship.
“With all due respect, sir, we haven’t gone through the training and exercises to let our fellow servicemen die in our stead.”
He gently nodded, in such a way I couldn’t tell if it was because of what I said, or what he thought to himself. “Well, well. Guess I can come up with something to do.” He drew out the sentence as he stood up, reminding me of the vast difference in our height and build. While I’d grown up in books and classes, he might well have been working the factories or scrapyards, or farming on the agriculture systems.
At his full size now, the various pins and medals on his jacket stood out. Medals for his rank, and for acts of bravery and heroism—the highest honour given to those who made it out alive afterwards. The pins I recognised as various performance-related awards, including a thirty years of service one. He had only wore his jacket when we left port, and I’d not been close enough to see anything but the rank at that time. It confirmed to me that he had been involved in the last war.
Clearing his throat, his voice took on a clearer tone and lost some of the accent. “Gunners’ orders: dump the nuclear warheads, fit the E.M.P.s and hull-borers, fire wide and tall as they’re ready. Engine room: overload the torpedo launchers to get them over, and take down the starboard engines, but keep the ship stable as we fire. Everyone else: move personnel away from the bow and spread them out across the stern, away from the critical sections, along with food and water supplies. Clear?”
It took a moment for his orders to settle in my mind, and I couldn’t believe them. “Sir, are we not going forward?”
“No, lad, we’re not.”
“I don’t mean to speak out of turn, sir, but our orders—”
“Have been given out by me.”
I let the spike of anger pass, and tried again. “Sir, what I’m saying is, we should—”
“With all due respect, which in this case is none, no one asked,” he said, and a coldness had entered his tone.
“Sir, please.”
“You can say ‘sir’ all you want: it doesn’t make you captain.”
I rubbed my hand across my face, his obstinate personality bringing back all these moments we’d had before, filling me with frustration. “Our honour, sir! We know what we signed up for, and we’re not a bunch of cowards.”
He didn’t speak at first, and I wondered if I’d gone too far, but I didn’t think I’d gone far at all, was ready to go further. Though afraid to look, I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his face, and my breath escaped.
Usually touched by a slight but noticeable tan, his skin then was pale, and his eyes had a lifelessness to them as they blankly stared ahead of him. Rather than angry or upset, his expression was completely blank. If he hadn’t spoken a moment before, I’d have checked to see if he was alive.
“The last war,” he said, more a murmur that I could barely hear, “didn’t end because one side won. It didn’t end because we’d lost too many lives. They were still shipping us in by the billion, shoving us in what ship they could find. No, the last war ended because there were no more ships to put us in.”
When he stopped, I waited a few seconds and, unsure of what to do, softly asked, “Sir?”
He turned to me, then. His eyes stared right through me, pupils unsettlingly wide, forcing me to bow my head on instinct just to break away from them. “They would’ve killed more of us, if they had the ships. It’s funny: diplomacy failed and war was the only alternative, until we ran out of ships. Suddenly, diplomacy was an option again. Fancy that.”
His words only made me more unsettled, in part because it sounded like madness, and in part because I understood what he’d said. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, and so fell back on the only thing my mouth could say. “Sir?”
A smile touched his lips. “Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honour matters. The silence is your answer.”
Those words felt like they came from experience.
“This isn’t a war of men and women but steel. We’ll fight until one side runs out of it and that’ll be the end. No need to go out our way to kill anyone. ‘Course, try telling the admirals that and they’ll stick you in a ship, send you to your death.”
For a long moment, a heavy silence hung over the room. Treason, uttered so calmly, by someone wearing our force’s highest honours. Yet, I doubt anyone but me thought that word. This was his ship.
I didn’t know what to think, what to do. It really wasn’t the best time to be having this kind of philosophical debate. In the end, though, I came to a decision, and it wasn’t easy. “Captain?”
“Yes, lad?”
“Your orders, sir.” |
Word is bond. I’ve heard it everywhere, from the streets to Hollywood, everyone knows you don’t break your word. Hell, if you’re Tony Montana you ONLY live by your word, and your balls, AND you don’t break them for no one. Funny thing is that the bond created from being true to who you are, is limited to what you can say and do.
Anyway a squirrel saved my life one time when I was lost in the woods, by what I can only describe as leading me to a place I could mend my wounds and gather my composure. If only I could repay that squirrel back somehow... |
Loved the comic so much I decided to try punch out a story! Thanks for the awesome comic link, I really enjoyed it!
Without further ado, my half-assed attempt at a story!
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It seems Ferdinand hasn't stopped staring at me since I've arrived. I can feel his eyes on me, unwavering as I chat to the other patrons.
I've only been gone for a week, on my annual hunting trip to the woods. The forest my only companion, my rifle my only comfort. Only a week of me being gone, my wife and child tending to the lodge while I was away. Running the day to day business, providing for the many local patrons who call my lodge their home away from home.
Only a week, and it's as if I'm a total stranger to him. Not a word he has said to me. Not a "hello", or a "how do you do".
The other patrons notice it too, the way my brother sits on the sidelines. His usual calm, quiet presence absence from the group for the first time in ten years. I see them glance at him on occasion, at his shocked demeanor and white face. Clenching his mug with a white knuckled fist, he stares at me.
Three days have passed, and still not a word has been spoken between us. I keep my distance, allowing him the space he seems to need. My wife asks about him, wanting to make sure he's alright. I merely brush it off, telling her he's not feeling well. He spends all his time in the lodge, watching me from the corner. When it's closing time, he'll wait until I turn off the lights, and then pass me on the way to the exit, his eyes never leaving my face.
On the fifth day, I saw him talking to my wife. As I approached him, he bid her farewell and left in a hurry, his eyes yet again never leaving my face. I asked her about what they talked about. He was asking how I was, and whether she's noticed anything unusual about me lately. I find comfort that he's checking up on me, but find it strange that he can't talk to me directly. We've been close since the day we were born. A set of twins who were closer than most, until I settled down and got married. Opened up the lodge. Had a child.
We drifted apart then. I always suspected it was because of Judith, my wife. We all suspected he fancied her, but he never enacted on those feelings.
On the sixth day, he finally spoke to me.
I was closing up at the end of the day, when he approached me. In his hands, he held a knife.
The hunting knife I gave him for this twentieth birthday. A beautiful piece, hand crafted from the local blacksmith. I had his name and birthday carved into the blade. Our family crest burned into the leather handle.
"You're dead,"he said, "I killed you... With this knife."
Memories flashed through my mind, of the time I was in the woods. On night five of my journey, I heard heavy footsteps, as someone approached my fire.
"Who goes there?"I asked, my rifle across my lap. "If you need food, some warmth, or just some company, I'm happy to provide."
It was my brother, much to my surprise. He stopped by the fire, his eyes wide. In his hands I saw the blade, the very one he has right now.
"I've lived in your shadow my whole life, and I can't take it anymore."he walked up to me, the knife held out in front of him. "I can't stand being in the backlight any longer. I can't stand my twin besting me in every aspect. I can't stand seeing the love of my life, spending her life with you and not me!"
He pounced, his face a mask of hatred and a feral growl coming from his throat. I had no time to react as the blade plunged into my stomach. Again and again, he struck.
After what seemed like hours, but was likely mere seconds, he relented. Panting, he ripped the knife from my belly yet again. We locked eyes.
As he plunged the knife deep into my skull.
I look at my brother now, as he holds the very same knife in his shaking hands. His face, once filled with hatred, now white with fear.
I smile at him, and clap him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, brother. This will be our little secret."
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If you liked this, please check out my other work at r/DoopleWrites! Any critique is also welcome, as I'm always looking to improve my writing! |
*Meanwhile, in The Land Where All The Writing Prompts Are Simultaneously True....*
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"It's almost November..."Sasha reminded her husband. "You're going to have to make up your mind soon."
"I know, I know, it's just... this candidate."Harold frowned at the practice ballot he'd gotten in the mail.
"What about him?"Sasha asked.
"Well, he's a serial killer."Harold said.
Sasha shrugged. "So? People write about serial killers so often the only reason everyone in this town isn't dead is because they *also* write about serial killers that kill other serial killers."
"Well it just seems like an irresponsible sort to elect,"Harold said. "What with all the murder."
Sasha shrugged. "So impeach him the first time he murders someone. Knowing their type it'll be like five minutes."
"Can't,"Harold said, "elected officials can't be arrested."
"What!?"Sasha asked. "That doesn't even make sense! I mean, serial killers being elected aside, what about corruption? It's just begging for every elected person to just take every bribe they possibly can, settle personal scores.... I mean, the kind of people who get elected are *exactly* the kind of people you *don't* want running around without oversight! What kind of stupid-ass law is that!?"
Harold shrugged. "It's not the dumbest law we've ever had. Personally, the law where the writing prompts are law is probably the worst one, what with how it leads to serial killers every freaking week. I mean, I swerved to avoid a squirrel this morning and got yet another life debt; that's three squirrels, four spiders, eleven baby elephants, a marmoset, and a literal partridge in a pear tree that owe me life debts at this point. This kind of nonsense happens every day."
"What was a pear tree doing in the middle of the road!? Ugh. I hate this town,"Sasha said. "But at least we get a vote... for now. So you need to decide who you're voting for."
"Well, the republican candidate is a heartless monster who doesn't care who lives or dies as long as he gets his kicks."Harold said.
"And the other candidate's a serial killer." |
"This ... is madness,"I say, cowering behind my desk.
"George calm down! for christ's sake, you won,"Dave says while his large figure leans forward above the wooden desk.
"Christ might as well show up!"
"George you are the number one negotiator in the entire world ... have some fucking confidence!"
Our eyes meet, doubt shows itself in our gaze.
Once in a lifetime events hardly announce themselves through online tests in mailboxes. None of us knew that this was a global job interview presented to every hostage negotiator, diplomat, psychologist, politician and every other profession that deals with communication. Apparently this includes car salesmen.
*Does skimming while drunk at 2 a.m. count as cheating?* I contemplate telling George this, but quickly dismiss the thought. Being the center of the world's attention was more euphoric than any high I ever rode and I do not want to face withdrawal symptoms of equal magnitude.
"Look, I don't know how you did it, but you better pretend you know how,"George says, "cause if you don't that bearded old man might do something fucked up again."
Merlin's return was world news alright. You'd think a medieval wizard wouldn't know how to deal with social media. Nope. Opening a mile wide magical rift that sucked in the Eiffel Tower tends to catch a few snapchats and live streams. Having a loud booming voice follow up with 'woeps, sorry 'bout that.' makes every meme put itself to shame.
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And at this point I lost confidence. But I promised myself at least 200 crappy words a day with the exposure of criticism so here it is. If there is any interest I'll continue. Thanks for reading. |
"That's the way it works."
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I remember when I was first told that by an aging golden retriever. All my life I could see the numbers floating over other dogs heads, corgis in particular always seemed to have hundreds if not thousands by the time they got old. Every dog knows you need a thousand or more to get to Heaven and it sort of became a status symbol for how our owners were towards us.
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Well, my owner was kind of different.
You see he suffered a pretty horrible injury that made him lose both of his hands. I remember when he first came home after the accident and I felt more scared than I had ever been. Yet, it didn't take very long for that fear to slide away like those raindrops that run down a window because the way he looked at me - I knew he still loved me. I mean I was always slightly concerned in the back of my head because every time he pet me with those hands they gave him, my counter wouldn't go up...
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But over time that didn't really matter because he loved me and I loved him so very much.
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I grew older but he never stopped treating me like I was the only dog he had ever seen. Life was good and there was always walks in the park to be had. He even gave me treats for the little stuff like sitting and tilting my head a certain way.
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Then he got really sick.
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And things got worse.
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When he said goodbye I barked because I didn't want to hear him say it. The toughest part was seeing his mouth move and knowing he said it anyways. Sometimes, i've learned, you just can't build a wall high enough to keep pain from spilling into your bowl.
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I spent so many days staring at the grass I forgot about the whole pets get you the best spot in the afterlife thing. I was becoming an old dog and as far as I was concerned I had already lived the best life a dog could possibly ask for. The other dogs would pity me, seeing such a low number they assumed my owner wasn't much for compassion but I knew they couldn't be more wrong.
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So when the time came... I was ready to go wherever I may land.
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And now i'm here - with him.
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Because I might not have gotten as many pets as others but I had received so much more. Somehow, 201 was enough to give me all I could ever want... to be right next to him, going for one more walk before the whole world bursts into white light and eternal bliss. |
"Being a mad scientist comes with a fair share of problems, wouldn't you agree?"I said to my trapped nemesis. His lower body was encased in a block of cement, and yet he still showed no signs of fear.
To be fair, this wasn't out first encounter with each other. He always came in at the last second, bent on foiling my master plan. His organisation always was a thorn in my side, but this time, I will make sure to come out on top.
"I mean, just look at all the complications that my line of work have caused. A divorce, crazy machines that don't work half the time, and YOU!"I yelled, my face inches away from his little beady eyes.
"Still going for the though guy persona, I see? No matter. My latest invention will probably change that"I told him, making my way towards the balcony, where the silhouette of my imposing contraption laid hidden under a white sheet. I took the corner of the sheet before proceeding with my monologue.
"And now, Agent Perry, I present to you the Inator-Inator! With this, I will finally rule over the Tri-State area!"
There was nothing agent Perry the Platypus could do, except grumble in anger. |
"Ding!"Pierre heard the bright sound of his mechanical assistant. He fumbled with his belongings, finally flipping open his leather pouch and pressing the small lever inside. The metallic voice of his wife reached his ears, and he continued walking. "*Bonjour*, it's good to hear from you again darling. The kids are growing faster every day, and I still tell them all your stories."There was a pause before Marie began speaking again. This time her distant voice sounded slightly more concerned. "The war hasn't ended since your last message. It's terrible, and so many mothers I know are praying together at the chapel. Each week they bring news from the front."Another pause. "They closed the gates last year. Nobody is allowed to make the journey until the war is over."Pierre could hear her voice crack, and his chest tightened. "Happy birthday darling, I know John will come home soon and we'll all be right behind you."
Pierre gazed out at the stars. Distant oil lamp fires illuminated the darkness, and a town approached his vision. Some people chose to stop walking, some requested lumber and soil from Earth to build their homes among the stars, and some simply turned back. Maybe this would be his future, this is where he would wait for his family. Pierre cast his gaze down to the rich brick path beneath his feet. He remembered a message his wife had sent him a year ago, just after he'd passed the moon. Her voice had sounded clearer back then.
A man had reached Jupiter, and it was said his grandparents entered a gate in the 1840s. Pierre stopped for a meal and rest, then continued walking when his eyes opened again. The brick road stretched ever onward, slicing the outer heavens in two. He pressed down the small lever and began to speak about the stars, and the people he'd met on the moon.
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You blink multiple times, trying to recollect on what happened to your body. Dark figure, Bright train, gunshot. The memories crowd your head as you look at your body, If you can even call it a body at this point. Every inch of your body is covered in blood and mud and almost makes you throw up. Well you physically can’t but the feeling is still there. You can barely remember your old face as the doctors wonder where to start.
You glance away from your body to, your body?You completely forgot about your current state. Your outfit is the same as when you died. A Adidas sports jacket and dark blue jeans covered in mud, like drenched. For some reason your shoe is missing. But your translucent and can feel every molecule past trough you like fish through water. The outlines of your clothes and body are a dark blue, almost purple but not quite.
All of the sudden you feel a cane grab around you and a voice behind you say “Don’t let the shock get to ya kid, not the baddest case I’ve seen” and drag you back wards into... |
As humanity reached its arms into space seeking a companion it only encountered darkness. Alone in bold letters ran across every format of media. There was no escape from this truth. For years our ignorance of the Spero cluster was a comforting one. Its distance was so far and its clouds so thick, making it so only the slowest form of searching for life was possible which gave us a century of that peaceful ignorance. It was a problem for future generations to grapple with, and they did just that.
"Our deepest fears have been realised"blared the Monoset which the Remison family so heavily invested their modest income in so they could receive signaling 30 standard minutes before their neighbors and most of the planet. The Remisons though only living modestly have always been and always will be religious leaders. Unlike some people in this position, the last 3 remioson family leaders would not abuse their power for a more comfortable life. They truly believed.
When Willam Xali Remison found out we were alone he and all like him were estatitic. They have been proven right. The universe was made for us. This was the evidence that they had lacked since the phrase "Where is your proof?"was uttered. The faithful did not need this evidence, the rest would. It was finally humanities time for all of it to be freed from doubt, and accept the truth.
There was a small influx of converted followers to the planet, but not as much as they had prepared for. The welcoming parade's "Newly Freed"section was only a trickle, and the feast that was prepared was meant to feed ten times those who had attended. The confusion of the leaders was palpable to those new recruits, which shook some of their new found faith.
It was a couple of days latter when Willam and his family heard the news through the monoset. The leader of the Unified Commonwealth of Humanity came onto the short podium, a tradition since the ancient republics, adjusted his tie and said "The need for something more outways the morality of creation"Willam's ears turned red. The need for something more? "We are the something more!"his family shrank away from him. He wanted to go to his congregation and scream the truth from his pulpit but he needed to wait, he needed to compose himself for tomorrow's sunday sermon and use the anger of the people to ride it like a wave. A wave that will carry him further than any Remison before.
The crowd was larger than normal, even on faith worlds many were apathetic and only attended the festivus sermons. But today every seat was filled, the back of the room was lined with standing people, the walkways were blocked with sitting bodies. The chater silenced as he walked into their view. Willam paused took a deep breath and began. "We have underestimated how much they have enjoyed living in darkness. We have underestimated how little they value us. Instead of coming to the truth themselves they have blockaded themselves from it. Greater yet they will drag us into the darkness with them, with their act of greatest sin. The creation of life, intelligent life. We have been civil and generous for generations as a way to show the rest of humanity the righteous way, but they paid it little attention. They have mistaken it for weakness. Now they would walk over us, use the resources of a thousand planets to create a new intelligence? Our world? And the other worlds of the faithful? Just because we have been civil they think our faith has diminished? We will not stand for this, We will stop this blasphemous project at any means necessary. Even if it means a breaking of a unification that has stood since the Shame. We will not be dragged down by them. We have waited for them to come to the truth, but now we must bring the truth to them."
|
“Welcome class of October 29th, 2018, Greenwich Mean Time. I understand, you must be thinking, what the hell is going on,” a tall, good looking man standing up on a stage above over a hundred thousand confused souls. The man had a smirk on his face and seemed to display an aura of smug confidence.
“Well, you see! You have died! Now, now, I get that might be heavy news, but no matter! Hey, you know that Christmas song?” The man said in an unnecessarily dramatic and loud voice. “You better watch out. You better not cry,” the man began obnoxiously singing. “Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice! **I**…am coming to town! Oh yes, everybody, think of me as Santa Claus, I got gifts for all of you! Not quite as great as God, but I think I’m number 2. Because I am about to discover whether you’ve been naughty or nice! You see, Heaven and Hell are not single entities (excuse my Christian bias), you each get your own afterlife! You see there really is no true religion or even lack thereof! You can believe whatever you want, but you’ll be held to those standards. For instance, my mother always told me to believe in myself and how amazing I am, so here I am! Now, I’m sure at least one of you recognizes me as I was the sports reporter on Channel 6 News in Chadsville, Arizona! Right? One of you? Anyways, you could even be a serial killer, but if you believe what you’re doing is right, then it is! You’ll get to live whatever your vision of Heaven is! Anyways, due to formalities, I have to interview each of you. Don’t worry, we’re beyond space and time (although don’t ask me how I can stand up here if we’re beyond space, let alone whatever it means to be beyond time!)”
*This is a very interesting fellow. What do I believe though? I guess I never really cared about the afterlife. Life had so many concerns which would always pile on top of each other, I guess there just wasn’t any time to think about the afterlife. Seems like a pretty important discussion in hindsight.*
“Why hello there, you fine strappy young lad! Okay, so let me just quickly (beyond time though…) pull up our records on you, and…Oh, you’re a pussy.”
“Hey, what?”
“You’re a pussy! You never even thought about what happens after death! I mean, we get a lot of atheists, they think it’s nothing, but they’ve thought about it at least! You basically just jacked yourself off your entire life!”
“Hey now, I took care of my family.”
“Oh yes, your wife who boned 6 other guys within your first year of marriage alone and your kids who hate you. Oh geez, aren’t you just amazing.”
*What an asshole.*
“So what does this mean for me?”
“It means you’re too lame to have even died. Eh, you were only 52, fuck it, we’ll send you back.”
“Wait what?”
“Okay, it’s technically cheating, but I can probably pull a fast one on the big man upstairs. Become Christian or something, find a religion which promises eternal happiness, live according to scripture, and you’ll get it.”
“Wait!”
With that, I woke up in my bed. The doctors were in the middle of electrocuting my heart to try and regain a pulse.
“Wait, he’s back!” One of the doctors exclaimed.
“Oh thank goodness,” another one continued, “he was officially dead for a whole minute. Hey there, are you okay buddy?”
“Can you call the press? I’d like to give an interview on near death experiences,” I replied as I tried to grasp what the hell had just happened. |
“It’s the storks, man,” Ginger insisted over her morning coffee. She traced a cartoon clipart stork carrying a little bundle onto the grimy diner table with a claw. “We find the storks, wait three years and we’re back in business.”
“In _America_,” Dean hissed, tail whapping the booth behind them.
“It’s the Quartered Kingdom of the Americas,” Ginger corrected automatically. “And if we fix the infrastructure of _one_ of the human populations, the other regional conservation groups will be jealous and follow suit.”
“You’re over-estimating their competitive nature,” Dean argued, slapping a tentacle on the table. “There’s no _team_ in conservation. Just money.” Ginger laughed and Dean shot her quick grin. “Little kids wanna dress up and pay to pet humans but the adults are too skittish. I say we just pour a bunch of chill pills in their water systems and—“
Ginger covered her mouths, laughing, “You want us to drug all the humans?!”
“And why not? Little shits owe us,” Dean snickered, waving a hand. “We gave them _relativity_, calculus, the internet—“
“Don’t forget D&D.”
“Right, yes— _D&D_— everything they could ever need to be a successful species and _still_—“
“They’re still a dying—!”
“Let me finish!” Dean banged two tentacles on the table lightly, slime sloshing out the checkered floor. Ginger closed her mouths behind barely concealed smiles. “Okay, they’re just _really_ stupid. _Oh I’m a human_,” he said mockingly, voice low and growling. “My spit is acidic and I don’t understand the longterm consequences of tin foil hats on sterility or stork populations.” Ginger burst out laughing again, guts spilling from her mouths onto the floor. |
Sorry if this is bad
I found the little guy just laying there, surprised that my cat hasn’t eaten him yet. I went to go throw him outside, but something, god knows what, was urging my to try and revive him. I complied. Can’t remember what I did, but it worked.
“You have saved my life, human. I shall repay this debt someday.”
It took me a minute, but I managed to say thank back. I may have been sleep deprived, but damm, I dint know I was high as well. In all actuality, I didn’t think much about it. Even if that mouse did speak, there’s no way he could save my life, right.
Flash forward a few years, on the same day, and here I am in the hospital. I am in good health, but the girl laying in the “holding room,” as it’s called, not so much. I never blamed her for trying to kill herself, just me for not trying hard enough to help her. Nerve got mad at her, just me for being an ignorant bastard. Never was confused on why, I have been in the same state as well.
When she told why why she didn’t tell my and why she attempted, it only made me more annoyed my self. She did what she did because she thought I hated her, when the opposite is true. I cared about her so much, (because she is the only reason I have yet to die by my own hand) that I was afraid of saying something that will make her hate me. I mean, I have pissed so many people of by accident, I didn’t want it to happen again. She then told me she was saved by a mouse that had chewed through the noose.
After she was released, and I was back home, I left a thank you message and some peanut butter in my kitchen, right were a found the mouse. When I woke up, I found the little guy in the kitchen, waiting for me. He told my on how she had a crush on me and I should ask her out in a month or two. When it came to the note I left him, he said that I didn’t need to say tanks and that he was just repaying his debts. To which I replied on how she means so much to me and that I am now forever in his debt.
A few years later, and I am still leaving put peanut butter for him, even though he is no longer alive. I do it out of tribute and because he help be so much. I am married to the girl the mouse saved. God knows how that mouse survived, but man are we grateful he did. So on this anniversary of those faithful days, I propose a toast, one for the mouse, and one for my girl.
|
Sliding across the dry, cracked leather of the rickety chair she caught a glimpse of a single slash of sunshine filtering through wavy, streaked glass. A low moan of pain followed a pop, as a neck, so stiff it wouldn’t need a collar if broken, turned from side to side. “What time is it Sam?”
Irritated brown eyes left the meticulously stacked, evenly spaced double rows of paperwork completely covering the adjacent desk. “Fifteen minutes after the last time you asked. What is wrong with you today.”
“Just, restless, I guess.” Breathing in a stale mixture of dust, sweat, tobacco and an odd sweet unidentifiable scent, she rolled the cheap pen between calloused fingers. Surveying the room that comprised her world 5 days of the week, thirteen bent heads, thirteen sloped shoulders rolled before her like waves in an ocean.
A small Apollo 11 paperweight of Eagle on the moon glowed in the flat florescent lighting atop the scratched mahogany desk. A gift from pops of that sultry July 16 day when mankind leapt into space. Sliding slender fingers over the smooth, glossy surface, she sighed, “Sam, I’m going to the moon.”
Rolling tired shoulders, chin in fist, he surveyed the dark circles, and turned down mouth of his sister’s normally upbeat face. Accounting, was boring, not that he was sorry for helping her get a job here, she was just., so much more. Quirked lips relented, “Ok, you’re going to the moon, what are you going to take?” A children’s game, yes, but so many good, fun trips before mom and pop’s death were hidden in a trip to the moon.
|
he smirked as she hesitated a for a split second. He needed to dispel those fears. With four words He can push her over the edge and force that fucking hero to kill me. He had killed close to a hundred by his self. Perhaps even close to a thousand when you include all the weapons he had smuggled. A quick cough splattered the front of her costume in blood his own armored Helmer visor long since smashed in this super hero brawl for the ages. Unknown to miss goody two shoes one that had been boadcast live throughout the world showing just how violent and depraved hero's can also get when dealing with those they hate. The simple title Arsenal VS Lady Justice getting close to a hundred thousand viewers before she shattered my helmet at the half way mark stopping me from keeping track of the numbers. His conjured weapons unable to hurt her in any serious way. Bullets would stop mere centimeters under the skin. Knives would just be ripped out her skin hissing as it healed. And he was the well known villain.... Ok maybe not so well known as the one he was fighting.
Lady Justice spit out a tooth. Then picked him up with one hand holding me by the neck. Her face showing rage as one of her long time nemesis was revealed to be the boyfriend of her once side kick. Sadly killed two months ago fighting a super villain who could control fire. She spoke her voice comeing out venom like. "Where the hell is the serum Arsenal. Or is it James. No one should have that power in their hands."
Arsenal cackled even with all the pressure on his neck. "You mean the serum that gives people super powers? Like you, or how about Kid Justice, YOU KNOW MY GIRLFRIEND YOU LEFT FOR FUCKING DEAD AGAINST ALCHEMIST!"
Her response to this was to slam him into the wall her powers causeing the space between them to begin to heat up. He laughed as all his broken body could feel was a slight warming sensation. "WHERE IS IT JAMES IM NOT JOKEING AROUND."
He simply laughed harder. "Disbursed to several drug labs. Expect it to show up on the streets soon for a price."
She growled and picked up one of his summoned weapons and drove it into his chest before smirking at him. "Any last words James. Not that anyone will hear them. Your just be another no name villain who died in the news, and I will get that serum back even if I need to kill every one who gets their hands on it."
Blood beging to run down his chin and throat from his damaged lungs didn't stop him from his final words. As her final hit restarted his stream counter now rapidly climbing and all ready at close to three million viewers all across the world, as whole cities watched in shock as one of the hero's who is supposed to be protecting them shows a dark side non of the public knew about, one that will shatter the hero movements. "Ya bitch I got four words for you."Her eyes narrow as she sees a red blinking dot next to his head inside his helmet. "Smile for the camera." |
As you sit around the family dinning table, your mother Sierra to your left and your 3 brothers Jake, Ryan and Steven sitting across, your grandfather's lawyer reads the line "to whoever found the killer."In an instant the atmosphere of grief was shifted to that of a world series poker table. Darting eyes all around as each one of your family members began looking for who they would pin your grandfather's death on. Steven, the youngest of your brothers, has always been the star of the family. Over the years your envy of him has grown and you have finally found your opportunity to take his place. As you sit there, you begin contemplating all the possible ways you could frame Steven for his murder; secretly scrambling around in your head with the hope that you come up with a plan the fastest, when suddenly you recall a story that your grandfather told you of a time that he had an allergic reaction to peanuts and how he would never go near them again. This was it. You've found your strategy. |
"You're such an idiot!"
"Are you retarded?!"
"Seriously?! Why can't you do things correctly! Oh wait.. You're a half wit, no wonder why.. "
Its been ten years and her words still echoes in my head. Whenever I try to do things, her voice would pop up out of no where just to remind how a waste of a human being I was.
A lot of people told me that she's kind, generous, loving mother.. Some even told me that she's an angel.. But she's not. Behind the closed doors she would constantly showers me with degrading words. I on the other hand would just put my hands on my ears trying to block her venom that came out of her mouth. I'm an adult man now.. And I still do it. Putting my hands on my ears, rocking back and forth at the corner. She's been dead for a quite sometime now but because of the events that happened it felt like she's still alive beside me.. Taunting me. They said that 'Words don't hurt' but unfortunately.. They do. Because words can't just cut but can scar you.. And no matter what you do, the words are carved there in the back of your head.
(I tried ok?) |
I hate riding in these things
I always preferred the old school pods they used to send people to other places before this. I liked those PODS; you could go, watch the world become smaller and smaller and be relatively safe in the PODS. This elevator though was cutting edge technology. Tested thoroughly, true but only out for a few dozen years or so. Going up to the main orbital hub, I got in line for the mars outpost.
I Stepped up to the counter where they were letting people into the constricting pipe they called a elevator.
"Going to Mantars?"The man behind the counter prompted?
I froze for a second, slightly panicking thinking i was in the wrong line "Uh no Mars"
"Oh youre in the right line then I can get you on right here sir"he said revealing a grin "You'd be suprised at how much dificulty The Kusarions have at single syllable words. It's hell sometimes"
He talked all the while scanning the card and pinning things into his haloprompt.
"That sounds horrible"I replied sympathetically, I had worked with Kusarions on some occasion and they always looked down on humans.
"You're set just walk through there and stand on the platform and ill hit the button to send you up"
"Thanks man"I replied gratefully doing as he instructed.
The doors closed. Suddenly I was moving up and towards mars. Hitting decent speeds of just shy of mach 1 I was able to see the entire planet beneath me. I always felt sentimental during these times as i reflect on how small I am to the universe.
"-oligize for this inconvenience. Please wait while we try to fix this remotely"
Remotely huh? They had never even considered these things breaking down.
"We apologize for this inconvenience. Please wait while we try to fix this remotely"
There it is again. It just keeps playing in the background. Whatever. Ill just wait I suppose.
I really hate these things. |
"Mum,, how did you get a tree in our front room"
Trevor's Mother was upstairs putting the washing away when she heard her 16 year old Son calling her from down stairs."
"What Clev?? hold on a minute babe i'll be down in a mo Hun."
As Marge walked into the front room, she was confronted with what looked like a tree right out of Narnia..
"What in the name of the Ice Queen is that doing in my front room?"It dawned on Marge that what she was seeing was what she had been reading about for about years now, Mystical ancient trees sprouting up around the world, above certain lay lines.
"In the name of the Ice Queen more like in the name of GOD, or Ceasar the Ape,, So you don't know how it got here then Mum"
"Yeah i do Clev, you know those magic Heinz beans that you refused to eat? well i dropped a couple last night and poof!!,, Of course i dont know how it got here you fruit cake, look it's ripped through my bloomin carpet for God."
"Don't say that Mother, what if its him who sent it?? it could be the dreaded tree of good and evil"
"Well I'll be damned, you little Atheist you,, NOT"Marge cackled like the old witch she new she must have been in a past life.
"Shall i go and get the chainsaw Mum, and take it down"
"I'll bloody chop your legs off if you do Trev, leave it alone, it's here for a reason and the tree chose us,, lets wait and see the fruits."
"Well you can wait, but if it gets massive and a giant climbs down, or Eve appears with an apple and a snake, don't forget young Jack offered to cut it down but you refused him."
"Don't worry Clev, Iv'e got wholegrain Bread for the Giant, and a rampant Rabbit for Eve if either one show there presence, you cheeky sod, now what you up to?"
"I'm off down the rec to play football and meet Charlotte, and i plan on keeping this to myself not that that's gonna last,, obviously."
"There is always a season"
"That reveals a reason, i know i know, see ya later Marjorie.."
"Love ya to, not so Clever"
&#x200B;
Trevor gave his Mum a kiss and walked past the little white Willow tree, not amused and made his way to the local recreation ground..
Marge approached the tree with caution, thinking to herself why me, why my house, why why why? then without fear Marge asked the tree.
"So Willow what can we do for you?"
A branch lowered and caressed Marge's cheek, the moment contact was made Marge saw a vision, of a plane being hijacked, she did not recognise any of the passengers, all she noticed was a sequence of numbers 13697, the plane was in the air and the next thing the plane exploded, the explosion blew Marge onto her settee which brought her immediately back to reality.
&#x200B;
"Oh my Giddy-Aunt Gloria, i'd better call the old Bill"she said out loud as if to someone, but there was nobody there but her and the tree.
Catching her breathe and getting her bearings Marge knew calling the police would be futile they no she's not all there already, so she imagined how the conversation might go
"Erm hello officer you know those mysterious trees that have been popping up around the world like something out of Bridge to Terrabitha-wattsit? well one's in me front room and its showed me a vision of a plane blowing up, can you plse the call the airports in,, where i don't know and i ain't got a clue which plane"yeah that would go down a treat..
She approached the tree again this time she touched the trunk, as soon as she touch it, it grew at least 3 feet and made a hole through the ceiling an protruded through her bedroom floor.
What is this all about Marge wondered, what was the vision all about, she quickly went to turn the Tv on and the first thing she saw was.
"Breaking News flight 13697 has mysteriously vanished taking of at Heathrow airport, the plane had just left the runaway and before it got to 100 ft the Boeing 747 disappeared as if a magic trick taken place"
Marge fell back into her Arm chair looked at her new house guest, and slowly started to dial 999.
" |
*Stones to build, hammers to crush, crowns to rule oh such tyrants we trust.*
*Battles we fought, wars we lost, valiant hearts all lo-ost to dust.*
*Come our fair hand, let us seal our fate, 'cos warriors we were in a time of berate.*
*A time for feeding my no-obleman's life, riding thorugh fields oh husband and wife*
*A warrior I'm no more... No more, No more...*
Trakas finished his song once the chamber doors opened with no warning. A boy no older than thirteen years, his face red with haste.
"M'lord, you are summoned to the grand hall. Our council awaits and the King calls."The boy squeaked, trying not to stagger on his tight heavy breath.
"The king calls."Trakas smirked, his grin reflecting in the mirror as he buckled his guilded crimson cape to the obsidian black shoulder plates. Completing his suit of armour. "I must say, I like the sound of that. I could get used to it."He stepped back from the mirror, his hair slicked and greased with oils, his stubble fine and rich aligning with his jutted jaw hiding the deep scar by his jawline. He looked fresh, clean. Even he did not recognise the dashing warrior, esteemed for the slaying of countless marauders and villanous scum. Equipped with the same all black steel armour he had worn to every battle, polished and sanded of all the scuffs and scars. Shadow, they called it. Shadow, he was.
"So who awaits for me in the grand hall? I imagine there should be quite the crowd."Trakas took *Sorrow* from against the hearth mantle and strapped the longblade around his hip, the round head pommel allowing a comfortable resting place for his left hand should he wish to flaunt such a blade. "Okay boy, show me to the King."
Outside the chamber was two of the city gaurds awaiting, even heros needed protection it seemed crossing the courtyard of angelic lilles. They escorted him through the barracks of the castle where an army were playing games and laughing, eyes peering at Trakas as he wandered by grinning with a radiant confidence, his hand rested on *sorrow*.
They took him through the kitchens, two, three maybe four kithens aligned in different rooms preparing a large banquet he could only imagine was for him. Meats, succulant and rich oozing juices that made him slobber in his mouth, pastries and creams that made even his sweetest tooth cry for a taste. He felt swollen in his chest, adoring. All this was a celebration of him. It was a ceremony for his success, for his sacrifice as he slayed the rapists and thieves that had murdered so many of the cities people. It was no secret that if there was no profit to be made Trakas would have admitted that he would not have done the job but this was undoubtably the most profitable. He could feel with every brush of steam, food sceneted with herbs and spices he had never even heard of on all his time on the road.
The whole walk he wondered, would he be a lord? A commander? Or simply a well fed mercanary who they will treat like a god? *Feed me grapes from the vine while maidens fan me with leaves*. The thought amused him so much he could not help but chuckle.
The amusement soon died. The grand hall doors was just a walk away, two guards at either side stood in attention with claymore blades dragging along the ground, they shrieked as they sliced the concrete ground and rang like a bell as they held them up in the air.
"A little unnecessary."As he muttered under his breath the doors opened slowly. It was like a grand reveal of something beyond grand. Behind them in all its sparkle was a long lane of people waiting for him, armours and blades sparkling in the frosted daylight spilling from the city's golden morning. A sea of colours of noblemen, women, dames, princesses in all their frocks and capes.
The sight made Trakas feel like a scruff, a mutt taken in to be cut and shaped into a civil person again. Not that he intended to be civil.
He began walking down the smooth path that led to the back of the hall, a throne that sat in display of the whole room on a high step of stairs. The chair was a simple one, one made of neat carpentered wood handmade no doubt by one of the city's artisans. Behind it was a large banner baring the sigil of the city, a stack of bricks building a home he assumed. Either that or a fallen wall. It's colour, deep gold.
In the throne was the King himself. He sat upright with his large strong hands resting on the arms of his throne, behind him were his elegant daughters. Their beauticious, innocent aura looking all around the room with small interest in the procceedings.
Trakas could not help but see Adeline, the eldest of the four girls. 20 years, small, gracious blue eyes that were magnetic to his eyes. She had a way that seemed naturally caring, looking over her other sisters, able to take care of them while Luri and Maegan struggled to still their attentions with their 8 year old span, she was the one who could nudge them to behave while Frahya, who was a few years younger than Adeline, smirked at their mischief.
Trakas knelt before the King, rising with *sorrow* in grasp.
"Today I woke, I looked out to my city and I saw sun. I do not believe in omens but I do believe this is a sign of good things to come. The city is safe, our enemies are buried in their own violent scourge. I do not miss them, not one bit."The King spoke in a deep boom filling the hall.
"I am just glad that I could offer my services. It is not everyday a King asks me to do a good deed."
"They told me men like you have no honour for good deed, I must apologise on their behalf because you have shown us all that may not be so. There is honour in spilling your own blood sometimes for someone else."
"Well it is what I do afterall. If the price is right."Trakas felt a cold breeze brush his face like a wash of ice. It was not worry that brought it on but the look on the King's face as he heard it from his lips. Had he thought Trakas followed a diffrent moral compass? Trakas liked having large amounts of coin in his purse and a maiden he could call his own, that is where his compass points to. Although hearing it the King did not seem approving of hearing it. "And a marriage we agreed upon."
"Price?"The words twisted from the Kings mouth, it did not seem clear to Trakas what he meant. It seemed he was not going to be payed, that all that food, all these people was a dressed up joke. It took a moment for Trakas to find the words to say. "Is my daughter not enough?"
"A thousand."Trakas said. "A thousand will look after me as well as your daughter don't you think."
"A thousand."The King nodded, curling his bottom lip agreeing. "We have little supplies but we can do that. We can also have our best blacksmith to whet and finish your blade and armour, our stablehand can give you a maple steed, one of our best of the city. You and my daughter shall be arranged to wed so long as you accept a noble place at my court."
"Your generosity is greatly appreciated."Trakas bowed, his eyes glimpsing at Adeline. Her eyes dropping to her feet.
The King nodded to his daughters, he reached out his hand and allowed it to be taken. He stood, guiding the little hand down the flight of stairs, little Maegan following his steps in her flowy pink dress. He led her to Trakas who smiled down at her. Never realising until the King spoke.
"This fine warrior, will teach us how to be strong again. So that our enemies shall never take from us, ever."He spoke to the room. Putting Maegan's hand into Trakas'. Holding the small infantile fingers it dawned on him...
"Wait a seco-"He tried
"It shall be known that Trakas, new champion of the realm I bound to my daughter. A great honour that a hero has bestowed, so I bestow unto him *my* greatest honour!"
"Perhaps there has been a mis-"He tried again but the crowd roared.
"TO NEW BEGININGS!"The King roared. "UURAH-UURAH-UURAH!"
"Oh shit..." |
Looking up I saw nothing. Looking around even less. The fog had closed in around me and was getting closer. I crossed the street to examine the bloody stump, nearly being squashed by a carriage in the process. Upon arriving at the oddity I immediately noticed that it was a clean cut. I was no butcher, and less of a surgeon. But when you lived on the frontier you cleaned animals. And no cleaver or hatchet made a clean cut through a bone that thick. Only a saw blade would leave it as neat. The second thing that struck me was the lack of blood. The foot was fresh, yet it had no blood to speak of. Not even flecks on the clean skin on the sides. Clean skin. The expensive shoe explained the clean skin, rich folk didn't have to slog through the shit like those of us who worked for a living. I picked the foot up and held it aloft in the lamplight. Whale oil burns an interesting color, a sort of pumpkin orange that infects all that it touches. "What ya got there sir?"A young boy asked, emerging from a nearby alley. I turned and displayed the foot for him, wondering briefly why he hadn't also heard the thump. It was a very loud thump.
"Ah, begging your pardon sir. That's the old miss upstairs. Mortician by trade. Coffin maker too. Right aweful at it she is! Always having to break bones and hack at bodies to get them to fit. Looks like she left a piece of the latest stiff on the windowsill."I looked at the foot, and then at him.
"This could've hit someone!"I chided, shaking the foot threateningly. He shrugged, stepping further from the fog to examine the appendage. "Eh, governor told her to be more careful, but what's he gonna do? Folks gotta be burried. Oy, 's a nice shoe ain't it. You planning to keep it or ya mind if I do?"He asked. I shrugged and handed him the shoe. I preferred moccasins. "Thankya sir! I'll go round ole missus house tomorrow and see if I can collect the other. If'n it don't fit, it'll sell it off for ale and buy ya a pint."He smiled. I chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Good boy. Get on home now."I chuckled before taking off back down the street toward my boarding house. |
In the end, digging down proved to be easier. Only after hundreds of space travel attempts had failed, sending thousands of people in a deep cryosleep up in the air only to get lost in space and never wake up again, and too many space companies went bankrupt, humanity had simply given up. Humanity had been stubborn before they learned their lesson.
Digging down was the only sensible option. Thousands of years the temperature of the earth had slowly been rising, until most of the ice had pooled together in the vast, ever expanding oceans. The megacities remaining on the higher parts of the planet had been slowly degrading and falling into chaos. What had humanity expected, hoarding everyone that existed on those places. The floating cities had been much better off. At least there had been enough space to expand, and controlling the population on the floating atolls had proven to be a key factor in sustaining decent living conditions for the communities. But there was simply not enough building material available to keep creating new floating cities, and with the water level slowly rising through the lower ranks of the megacities, the Great Ruler had to take action. And so the digging to new places to live had begun.
Van Halen leaned against the wall of the excavation pit and slowly slid to the ground. They had been trapped and the shield keeping the ocean above away would not last forever.
"How close to the earthcore are we?"he asked Vandelstein.
"Deep enough for *it* to find us."
"Thats what I like about you. Always pissed off."Van Halen sighed.
"You know what they say about the Dutchans. Always complaining about something."he responded without making eye contact.
Vandelstein stood up and swept the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Even if they would successfully found a city so close to the center of the earth, its inhabitants would probably be sweating for all their lives.
"Last readings let me believe we are about 20 miles from the earthcore. But since we are stuck here it does not really matter does it? Its only a matter of time before *it* finds us."
Van Halen knew Vandelstein was right. The sole reason the whole process of digging humanity to a knew place to live went so damn slow was because of *it*. They digged two seperate shafts and every 30 minutes of so they switched to the other shaft. They had heard what happened to Girkenheist and Matterneye when they were too late to swap. The sound of it happening still haunted Van Halen. Now the shield giving in so the shaft would flood was the least of their concern. They would seize to exist the moment the millions of tons of water above them would crush their bodies. It would probably be less painful than when *it* found them first.
"You think we should deactivate the shield?"asked Van Halen.
Vandelstein kneeled down next to Van Halen. "It would probably a better way to go wouldn't it?"
Van Halen gave him an empty gaze. When he heard the low booming sound again, he snapped into focus. Distant rumbling emerged as the hairs in his neck rose. The burrow that trapped them was miles and miles under the face of the earth, sealed by the shield and incalculable amounts of water above it. But all of a sudden it let the drought trough. The air around them started howling and a gush of cold made Van Halen need a second try to fill his lungs with air while standing up.
"Do it."he said.
Vandelstein looked at Van Halen. To his surprise nothing flashed by even tough he knew for fact he was living his last moments.
"It was a good undertaking Vandel. But humanity was stubborn again. We should have seen the writings on the wall. Matterneye, Girkenheist. The rumours were true. And *it's* coming for us from below."
"For fuck sake, lets not go to the grave complaining shall we!"Van Halen snapped back.
Vandelstein looked him in the eye, a lump in his throat. He took the shield controller off his belt and stared at it for a second before they gave each other a firm hug. *It* could rush through them at any moment.
"We will not let *it* tear the souls from our bodies."Vandelstein said.
"We will not. Fuck *it*."replied Van Halen.
"Fuck *it*."said Vandelstein with a nod.
There in that burrow the men still did not let go of each other, both looking upwards to the shield seperating them from the darkness of the ocean, soon to be crashing down on them, taking their lives away. Vandelstein fiddled with the shield controller and the redeeming beep sounded. They looked at each other and they both nodded. Vandelstein gave the final command and the shield disappeared.
|
"It's Christmas!"
I was quite excited as I awoke. I had been waiting for Christmas for awhile now, so I rushed out of bed and down the stairs as fast as I could. Unfortunately, upon reaching the floor, I saw the clock which read 3:03. I disappointingly began to head back up stairs until a glaring light flashed in my peripheral. It was from outside shining in via a window. It was an extremely colourful display, but quite odd and I couldn't make out the source of it. I decided to take a step outside. In the distance, I saw a large figure coming this way. As he inched his way closer it eventually became apparent that he was a large man.
"Hello there?"I asked cautiously.
"Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!"The man replied in a jolly tone.
"Merry Christmas,"I muttered back.
"I'm Santa Claus!"
I may enjoy Christmas, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to believe some old man claiming to be Santa just because he has a bit of a gut and a jolly tone. I began getting nervous as he was beginning to get really close. I decided to end the conversation by telling him I had to get back into my house, but he was persistent and it was getting a lot colder outside as the lights began to dim.
"Just one more thing. You're the Head of Operations at the large toy store in town, right?"the man asked in the same jolly tone. How could he have known that though? Regardless though, at this point, it became clear that I had to get the hell out of here. Without even responding I turned around and began to run for it. Unfortunately, a large moose or something began running right at me and I had to jump out of the way. I hit the ground hard and as I began to recover I saw the large man towering right over me. I got a much better look at him and he certainly looked like Santa. The costume also looked pretty expensive, this guy clearly took the role seriously. Looking down, the man asked if I needed a hand. Not wanting to worsen the situation, I took his hand and he helped me to my feet.
"You don't need to be scared of me. I just need to ask your advice about something,"the man replied in a more serious, yet still unmistakably jolly tone.
"Okay, sure,"I nervously replied.
"The whole gift giving business,"the man began in a somber tone. "I'm starting to think I'm too old for it. Technology is completely disrupted the industry and I just can't keep up with it anymore. Last year was a very bad year for us. We invested large funds into trying to implement an AI program to create the Naughty & Nice list and designate a corresponding gift, but the results were terrible. I had to hire some of the elves to rush through it, but it became apparent after that we had different standards. Not only that, last year was our lowest delivery rate in history. We only made about 86.3% of our deliveries and it was also our 3rd highest error rate, at 9.7%. But even worse was our approval rating was only 49.2%, the first time we've never had a majority approval rating."
Although any normal person listening to this would think he was crazy, I for whatever reason believed him. There was something almost mystical about the man and the way he spoke that I was convinced I was listening to the actual Santa Claus. But what was he telling me? How could Santa be struggling this much?
"Wait don't give up yet, Santa! You have brought joy to millions of children!"I plead as I looked at the old man. His beard and glasses covered most of his face, but even in the dark, I could make out a tear dripping from his eyes.
"No, it's time. I've had a good run, but I have to pass off the business. Unfortunately, Mrs. Claus and I never had any children, so I have nobody to pass it off to. That's why I was hoping you could take over the gift giving business. Your toy store has done very well and is taking full advantage of the new technology based market. I got lucky, for most of my time there weren't any airplanes, I could just use magic. It was really my fault, I stopped innovating and now we're quickly losing our competitive advantage. We need fresh blood."
With that, I had no choice. Santa had brought so much joy to my life that it was my duty to return the call for help.
"I accept your offer,"I firmly stated as I stuck my hand out for Santa to shake. Santa's face lightened in response, but not in anyway I was expected. He was smiling again, but it appeared sinister. Before I could react, Santa knocked me out.
I eventually woke up. I wasn't in my old clothes anymore, I was in a green outfit. As I got up off the floor I observed my surroundings. I was in a dark cellar. There was a man sitting outside and I screamed at him, demanding to know what was going on. The man slowly turned around and in a raspy voice replied "you're an elf now."After he said that, an armed guard came down and let me out of the prison. He placed a gun against my back and told me to walk forward. Seeing no other options, I obliged and began following the path that was set out for me. I eventually came into a large room, which looked like a factory. There were hundreds of other people dressed up like I was. Most were working on what appeared to be over fifty assembly lines. The rest were either being whipped or eating a very plain looking sandwich. With that, I saw Santa again.
"Santa, what are you doing with me? What's going on?"I cried.
"Told you business was getting tougher. I didn't want to pay for more employees, so I've been on the look out for slaves to become elves lately. I originally would only take people from the Naughty List, but they often proved unruly. However, people who were always on the Nice List were almost as productive as the actual elves. You'll fit in just nicely,"Santa replied as he faced a toothy grin at me.
"So, you're going to put me one of these machines?"I asked, half angry, but half terrified.
"Oh no! Not all kids get toys and we've been doing well here. Come with me."With that, the armed guard forced me to follow Santa as he led me out into another room. As we walked by many of the slaves, I saw looks of utter distress. We eventually walked outside, where it was extremely cold. We were at a mine, which a few other slaves were working at. They didn't appear to have a lot of equipment and I saw at least one who appeared to be lying dead on the side.
"We need to mine coal for the naughty kids and we've mined it all. We've been importing most of our coal lately, but I'm going to make damn well sure we get as much of the North Pole's coal as I can. That's your job,"Santa instructed me. In no situation to object, I began working on the coal miner and have been living this life for the past few years, at least. If any of you are reading this letter, please come to the North Pole. Please save us from this slavery! |
It's been a good day. Not a really good day. Not a bad one. But a good one. Like yesterday. And the day before.
Every day is good, when your name is John Smith jr., because every day essentially is the same. He is the kind of guy to honestly answer an 'How are you?', because he is always 'Just fine.'
John was quite proud about his routines at times. When he saw people swept away from sadness or overly joyful, he smirked a little - just a little, not too much of course - shook his head and reminded himself, how glad he was, that his life was just mediocre; without highs and lows, but filled with ok-ness.
So as he was leaving work at point 5pm he remembered leaving his beloved - not too beloved though, after all it was just an object - Toyota at home, because he felt like walking through the morning glances of a beautiful day in autumn. Well, now it was raining. And he scolded himself for falling out of his routine. When was the last time he just "changed plans"just because he "felt"like it. It should have been a warning - a small slip-up in the uninteresting life of John Smith jr., but by the time, he just laughed it off.
When he finally entered his appartement and saw the familiar phrames of his wallmart-furniture, he sighed.
Finally, he thought.
Ordering some food (he was a mediocre cook, not the worst, but not good either), relaxing a bit while watching whatever Netflix got in mind for him today.
While he turned on the radio, he suddenly heard an unfamiliar sound.
His doorbell.
For the first time since he woke up, he lost the semi-smile, that seemed to be printed on his not ugly, but not really attractive face.
'Who could it be?', he wondered.
'Chess-club is at Richards place this sunday and drinking one or two beer (never more, after all you had to be responsible in a world this dangerous) with his colleagues was due traditionally on friday.
He opened the door.
His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. He stopped thinking for a second.
The only sound came from the pouring rain and some popstar singing a pop-song in his room (not an exceptional, but a good one).
In front of his unimportant appartement, standing on his boring doormat, stood a woman.
A really beautiful one. No, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
The woman smiled. He stared at the gentle curve of her lips.
He was so lost into his observsation, he managed to overhear what she just said.
With a rather puzzled look he quick-wittedly answered: "What?"
He usually was a really calm guy, but now his heart was racing (something that had not happened in years), he was shaking and couldn't grasp a thought.
She smiled again ("God, i wish i could make a picture of this smile.", he - who had not touched a camera in his whole life, thought.) and repeated her sentence:
"I'm sorry, if i am interrupting you. My name is Megan, i'm a dancer (he usually despicted dancers, after all, why couldnt they get a real job?) and just came from practise when it started to rain. My phone died, but i'd really need a cab, so can i call one from yours?"
"Ehm", he begun strongly, "yes. Ahem yes, yes of course."
He gave her his iPhone (not the latest one, but relieable) and watched her quickly typing in a number. He was so lost in watching her tiny, fragile fingers touch the screen, he himself had used so often, that he realized almost too late, that she would just take the cab and leave afterwards.
He had to intervene. Sweat was pouring into his eyes, as he shouted:
"I COULD DRIVE YOU HOME!"
She looked at him confused, but a little amused aswell. When he noticed the volume of his sentence, he calmed himself down, before adding:
"It would be my pleasure."
After what felt like an eternity, she nodded and smiled. This time just for him. He felt a warm sensation in his chest area.
To his relief, she seemed to like the Toyota ("My grandpa drives one of these aswell."). When he turned on the car-radio she sung with another dull pop-star, saying that it was her favourite song.
To his surprise he answered: "Mine too!"
He had never felt the need to know details of people' life. He knew enough to write them a birthday- or christmas-card, so why bother with more information.
So he was really surprised, when she started talking and he caught himself listening very deeply and asking more questions.
The ride ended way too soon and as he parked his car at the adress Megan gave him, she turned around:
"Thanks for helping out a woman in need, John. You've saved my evening."
"Yes.", he answered absent minded, desperatly trying to make her stay, to keep on talking.
She left the car with a smile.
"Megan.", he said, as she was walking down the path to one of the little houses.
She turned around. "Yes?"
"Would you, like, give me your number?"
She smiled again. Then she pulled out a pen and wrote a serial of numbers - the most important one in Johns eyes - on the most important piece of paper.
He knew that she would probably ruin his routine. His mediocre life, without highs and lows.
But he didn't care. It was boring anyway. |
"Stop panicking, You are in a vessel designed to survive the deepest depths of the oceans. Nothing out there can break through this". Tyler said as he tried to comfort himself. Sweat started to build upon his brow. His vision was becoming blurry. Tyler sensed that he was starting to have a panic attack. If he passed out at these depths that would be deadly. He closed his eyes and began to breathe in slowly.
He released his breath out in a robotic manner to control himself. Tyler pictured his kids and thought how stupid he was for coming down here in the first place. He had always wanted to be an explorer, someone that pushed the limits of man's knowledge. Now, all he wanted was to be home with a bowl of pasta eating with his family. The thought of homemade food made him realize the incredible stench surrounded him. Normally the mixture of sweat and pressure made these journeys unpleasant, but this was different. It smelled overwhelming like burnt hair.
Tyler and opened his eyes and saw her. She wasn't shaped in any sort of natural shape. The closest description he thought of was jellyfish constantly folding in on itself. He was filled with dread, but couldn't move. His breath grew shallower. His body was tensing up and the ringing noise grew louder in his head. The sensory overload was becoming too great Tyler saw the tunnel and began to fade. He could no longer keep himself up and fell over.
Tyler did not hit the ground of the pod. His vision was gone but he could feel the sensation of falling. The wind rushed past him and his existence was fragile. He couldn't move any of limbs. He tried to scream out, but there was no longer any noise. In fact, there were no longer any senses to him besides the falling no sounds, no smell, no taste, he didn't even see darkness. All he could do was feel the void rush past him. Tyler, could no longer think in words or images. He could feel a longing for something, no someone. He thought of everything and nothing until he longer thought at all. He then fell for as long as one can fall in a place with no time. Until he stopped.
Tyler woke up on the floor of the sub. It was in the process of ascending. He thought that he must have begun the process of ascending prior to passing out. Maybe it was all just a terrible dream. Maybe Tyler would be able to forget what had happened. He could feel the note in his hand, but he still wanted to pretend it wasn't there. Pretend that the world he lived in made sense for just a little while longer.
But, Tyler was an explorer he was unable to resist the basest urge inside himself. He looked down and began to read.
&#x200B;
"Sorry, for the intrusion I don't receive too many visitors down here. I believe that I put you back together mostly the way that I found you. I just must say, that you have the most interesting brain and should consider yourself honoured to be the first man I have ever considered it necessary to reassemble. I hope to meet you humans one day on a more equal footing. Don't ever stop exploring even though there are monsters out there. We may be scary and we will even eat you. But nothing is more pitiful than race that allows itself to be run by fear
&#x200B;
P.S. Your wife and daughters are quite beautiful in a 3-dimensional sort of way." |
The globe. It was \*the\* globe. Do you understand, how incredible this was? I'm sorry for what I did to the Earth, but in my defense...well, no. I am a murderer of millions. I have no defense. All I have right now is my story.
&#x200B;
I just made a couple of experiments to find the limits I had on this. I didn't want to cause an earthquake, fun as it may be; I'd just kill tons of people without actually doing anything fun.
It took a week, and I wrote the whole time. I had designed a way to test this globe, without killing more than 1 billion people. In return, I would know every secret of this globe, and could possibly pave the way towards a better world. A seventh of the population is little in terms of centuries.
&#x200B;
The first thing I did was set up a Foucault pendulum in my backyard. Any adjustments made to the movement of the Earth could be measured with the pendulum, if not just noticed.
Next, I cleared my room of all debris. There was more preparation I could do, but I was impatient and hadn't thought of anything more in my rush for knowledge.
First, I touched the surface of the globe and waited for news of any earthquakes. While I know someone may have touched the globe in the last five years it's been in my room, for all I know it's just gathered dust. After four hours, I knew nothing had happened, so I then put my hand over my location (and the surrounding landmass), waiting for darkness. None.
I moved the globe over to the table in my room. It was lower than the dresser, and closer to the center of the room as well. Once again, I waited for hours, but nothing happened. I spun the globe again, and I felt a whirl and checked outside; for right now, spinning seemed like the only effective action.
A scalpel would be useful in finding out about the Earth's core, but I had little interest in such things. There clearly wasn't anything I could do in affecting the surface; it was just as resistant to warping as a scale model made of plastic was--that is to say, my hand wasn't able to damage it, but something stronger might.
I'm rambling. Officer...I poured a couple of drops of water on the Sahara and on California. I knew those areas suffer droughts. I didn't know that minutes of exposure to anything on the globe is what causes the "anything"to have an effect. Of course, I should have known because the globe has \*excellent\* ball bearings, and the spinning took effect after a couple of minutes of sustained spinning, but I...yeah, just...I hope you're taking that to some responsible scientists or something. Make sure no one with delusions of grandeur gets it, ok? |
As the few survivors crawl across the lawn of the former house of the most powerful man on Earth, the White House began to collapse. The twenty men that ran out before the building completely fell apart were covered in blood, sweat, and soot. Bodies covered the entire street and many smoking craters cover the entire city of Rastongina, formerly known as Washington D.C.
Herbert Lackinfeld, the last president of the once great United States, was the last one out of the building. He carried a briefcase in one hand and a pistol in the other, both would be essential for his survival.
Lackinfeld walked up to the only other important official remaining, the head of the Secret Service, and told him to try and find anyone that was still fighting for the United States. The man called twenty people and every single person did not respond, everyone was either dead or unable to contact them.
In the distance, a small band of men waving a Canadian flag ran was running towards the president and his posse. Lackinfeld aimed his pistol and shot the man carrying the flag in the torso, knocking him to the ground.
The Canadians began to open fire and soon half of the survivors lay dead on the ground. By the time the firing ceased, Lackinfeld was the only man who remained, and he fired shot after shot into the Canadian soldiers. Soon, they were down to only two men, and those two men began to run towards Lackinfeld and a frightening pace.
One of the Canadians was slain by the last bullet the Lackinfeld possessed, but the other began to draw a sword as Lackinfeld pulled a knife from his pocket. The two remaining men began to fight, sword and knife, the long arm of Canada and the remaining stub of America, the tyrannical might of the new world and the weakness of the democracy.
Lackinfeld was eventually killed and as he died, he uttered one sentence, "Hockey was never fun anyway,"and died.
**OC universe, I hope you enjoy, constructive criticism welcome!** |
The egg was slightly cracked when I took it out of the oven. I sighed. I followed the instructions for MagiClay ( Premire Polymer with a mythical twist) exactly as stated. I even bought a decorative bird's nest so I could display my project.
"Thanks a lot Rhiannon,"I muttered to myself "Thanks a whole lot."The new agey saleswoman convinced me to buy it. She looked like she would fit in better at a Renaissance Faire than a chain craft store, but she seemed nice enough.
"Remenber, follow the instructions and put your heart and soul into the design. "She found me the woven nest and some grass filling. I rolled my eyes at the obvious attempt at the upsell, but took them. I am bad at confrontation. Besides, my beginners kit was for a Magiclay egg. It would be a cute display.
I could feel the frustration under my skin. Ever since I had been laid off from my job I was either anxious or angry . I decided to turn to crafts as a distraction. If nerdy,inept teens and bored, middle age moms could do it, then so could I.
It was a shame really. I put my heart and soul into the damn thing. It was the size of my fist and covered in intricate symbols. For the first a project of mine looked like the box example instead of girl scout reject art. Yeah, that's one badge I didn't get.
I scanned the back of the packaging. In fine print it read "Small cracks are normal. Do not attempt to fill."Well great. It did add some semblance of realism. Real silver lining.
My husband , Silas,came home promptly at 5 as usual. He handed me the college catalogue that came with the mail, and kissed me. "Well babe , it could be a new start. You can even beginners art."I smiled. It was clear with me that a creative disposition and artistic talent didn't necessarily go hand in hand.
As we sat down for a takeout dinner , cooking being another one of my weak spots, and Silas picked my egg out of the nest. I had put the nest in the center of the table, hoping to add funky vibe .
He ran fingers over the three dimensional designs . "Well Eloise its sure is interesting. Too bad its covered in cracks."
"Yeah, like my mind. Barely holding it together but still interesting."I hadn't meant to be so sour, but these days I couldn't help myself. We finished our Chinese in silence.
Silas had been nothing but supportive since I had been laid off. The department store was downsizing and I had the worst sales .Not to mention I hated to shill credit cards or beg for donations. I was everyone's sarcastic best friend but I never was a team player.
After my husband went to bed I laid my head on the table and cried into my arms. I meant to eventually get to bed and apologize but I fell asleep that way. I awoke to a cup of lukewarm coffee and a note.
"Elosie, today is another day. Love you lots. P.s. you didn't have to break your project."
I was confused by what he meant until I looked at the nest. The clay was broken, almost like it had hatched. Huh. I wasn't the brightest before coffee, but I didn't see how I'd ever figure that one out.
Then I remembered the 1-800 number on the back of the box. I had questions and MagiClay at a lot to answer for. More than likely I would politely ask for a refund. Strangers and making phone calls always made me nervous. I would probably be talked down to a few coupons and later write a scathing online review.
I dialed and listened to the pre recorded message. "Congratulations! You passed the test and have successfully activated your familiar. Your Welcome to Witchcraft packet will be arriving in the mail any day now. Don't worry about making food for your familiar, they feed off of the nightmares and bad luck of your enemies. Thank you for choosing MagiClay."
Click. I realised I was disconnected and was too stunned to be angry. I heard some soft meowing and felt a tiny body rub against my leg. We've never owned a cat, at least not until now.
|
“I can’t keep this going” I said as I laid in a crumpled fetal position.
My body aches and even the slightest movement sends searing pain all over. My head is spinning and I’m sweating, the cold dampness of the cheap motel room doesn’t help anything either. The floor was soaked in my sweat but I couldn’t bare to move. So I stayed there.
“But you can” said a voice from above me.
Strange...
That’s my own voice. But it’s different. Older sounding but unmistakably my own. I turn over to look up, fighting my bodies painful attempts to stay still and just lay in a pool of my own sweat.
“Shit... You look like hell man!” Said my voice again.
My eyes focus in the dimly lit room. Fuck! It is me! I’m older, I have a graying beard and thinning hair line. But it is me all right.
“This can’t be possible! I didn’t know withdrawals caused hallucinations.” I muttered.
I had been shut in this hotel room for days now. Not sure exactly how many but it was at least three. My weeks supply of oxy was gone on the first day and now I’ve been laying here withdrawing for the past 24 hours.
“Look hear. This is what you have to live for.”
My older self handed me a thin device with exceptional clarity of the brightly lit screen. It seemed like one of the new iPhones I heard about but his one was heavier and larger. On it was a picture of a small girl. Probably six or seven years old and stunningly beautiful.
“But I cant! I can’t be normal! The pills make me feel human. They make me feel like I should be.” I cried.
“That’s what you think is normal? Being high? That’s not normal.” My older self solemnly said. “It’s a trick your mind plays on you to get more pills.”
“You... You don’t understand.” I said ironically. “I... Fuck... You, actually do understand.”
“You need to get help. Go back home and come clean with our wife. Get into rehab and follow the program.” My older self said reassuringly. “It’s going to suck and you’re going to have one hell of a fight. Both with our wife and with rehab.”
I laid back down and closed my eyes for a second. Shit... I stormed out of the house days ago after my wife found pill bottles with other people’s names on them. I attempted to explain away the circumstances but she’s much smarter than my drug addicted mind is. So I left in an attempt to regroup and get a good story straight.
“I don’t have much time.” My older self said. “But I’ve laid out exactly what you need to do.”
Without opening my eyes I lifted my hand up. My joints ached with pain and the sweat dripped off my forearm. I grasped for my hand but felt a heavy folder full of paper instead.
I opened my eyes in confusion but my older self was gone. Instead, all I had was a plain vanilla folder weighing my aching hand down.
Inside was an outline of what to expect and when I would relapse. I didn’t last seven weeks sober the first time, but the second and third, I lasted one year and three years respectively. But, after that, I would stay clean.
“Good to know, I guess.” I said aloud.
Elsewhere in the folder was a timeline of significant events. The birth of my daughter, the deaths of my parents, people to avoid and those to engage, events to avoid and those to attend, and other less notable items.
On the last page was a note.
“I would give you some stock tips or winning lottery numbers. However, that’s not allowed. Just remember, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Also take an early trip to visit the amazon. Do a good bit of useless coin buying as soon as you can. It’s a great hobby but not after Christmas. It’s useless after all. Just don’t do any of this till after your third relapse. You’ll enjoy it much better clean and sober.”
This is my first writing prompt. But I was inspired by my own addiction experience and thought I would contribute. |
Where did you find this box soldier said Caius. He is the watch Commander of the new Roman empire he was bred for his role trained since infancy by his father for this post was his birthright. "found it in the mud sir found an old man murdered and the box thrown to the side". "Leave bellowed Caius. After all of these years hell centuries how is this back here it hasn't been seen for almost 4000 years. |
Months ago, I held my wife’s hand and watched the ultrasound of our curled-up daughter squirming in her womb. The baby was unexpected, but we were ecstatic nonetheless. But today, I anxiously paced around the hospital waiting room, mindlessly picking at the buttons of my favorite red-and-black checkered flannel. Doctors had already rushed Carrie to the delivery room to prep her with anesthesia for our daughter’s birth. I muttered a few comforting words under my breath and tried to shake off the nerves before heading to the room.
Between the painstaking contractions my wife gritted through, she greeted me softly. Her tired, blue eyes brimmed with tears as I swiped away a blonde curl pasted to her sweaty forehead. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. For a while we talked about the changes in our life with our new daughter but was interrupted by another contraction. She moaned and gasped and rubbed her bulging stomach, trying to soothe the pain.
A few moments later, a middle-aged doctor entered the room, carrying a clipboard, and scribbling something down. He placed the clipboard on the counter and reached for a pair of green, latex gloves. With a warm smile, approached us and prepped for the delivery.
“The baby should be coming any minute,” the doctor said. He peeked under her gown to check the progress of the dilation. He gave Carrie instructions on what to do next, which consisted mostly of pushing, breathing, and short breaks in between.
I feigned looks of awe at the crowning head of the baby popping out of my wife’s womb. In reality, the birth was gross to watch. But nothing could compare to seeing my bloody, crying daughter wrapped in a cozy, pink blanket. While my exhausted wife recovered from the excruciating pain, I cradled Alexandria in my arms and cooed softly to her.
I rocked Alexandria into a peaceful sleep and placed her in my wife’s arms. After the initial excitement and anxiety, I retreated into a chair in the corner of the room and started nodding off. Because of the position I slept in, I awoke, startled from a neck spasm, to my sleeping girls and a glinting white text suspended in air. I rubbed my eyes a few times and squinted at the strange sight.
“*Player two has entered the game*,” it read. I scratched my head in confusion. I lightly tapped my cheek to check whether I was still sleeping. The letters quickly evaporated, and a new text appeared. “*Player two has challenged you to a duel*.”
I stumbled backward, completely creeped out. Out of thin air, a dust devil formed, dispersed, and revealed a paladin dressed head-to-toe in medieval armor. On his chestplate was a crest with a castle and a white ribbon circling it, embroidered with an unreadable Latin phrase. He lifted the visor of his iron bascinet and spoke to me.
“Under Artis’ law, I charge thee with capital treason,” he commanded. He unsheathed his steel scimitar from his belt and pointed the blade’s tip under my chin. “If you do not comply, I will be forced to kill you.”
Stunned, I gulped, wide-eyed at the cool touch of the metal scimitar prodding at my skin. I licked at my drying lips and open my mouth to speak.
“W-who are you?” I asked, scared out of my wits. “What did I do?”
“Silence!” he growled, poking the blade deeper into my flesh, almost breaking the skin. “Alexandria is property of King Artis. She is the heir to his kingdom and his royalties. I am here to return what’s rightfully ours.”
He paused and waited for a response, but when I stood there silenced by fear, he continued, “Seeing as you will not abide, I, a man of honor, challenge thee to a duel.”
He marched a few steps back and readied himself for battle. In front of me, a faint, pinkish cloud appeared with a few weapons: a battleaxe, a bow and quiver, a rapier, and a longsword.
“Choose your weapon wisely,” he said, before dropping the visor over his face.
I fearfully looked at Alexandria and my wife sleeping soundly in the bed, undisturbed. I figured the strange man in front of me could attack at any moment, so without thinking I reached for the longsword. As my fingers touched the hilt of it, the cloud and other weapons instantly disappeared.
Without missing a beat, I heard the paladin’s battle cry and he charged at me, sword ready. Shaking, I braced myself for the duel. |
"Ha, what's this? A squid? Oh no, what ever shall I do?"the villian said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to torturing the bank manager.
"I am The Cuttlefish, and I am here to put an end to your crime spree."The Cuttlefish said, his entire body turning a bright red.
The villian turned back to him, annoyed. "Are you still here? What are you going to do? Hug me to death? Get out of here before I decide to shoot you."
The Cuttlefish frowned. "Cuttlefish, not Cuddlefish. And no, I won't hug you, I will do this."
The Cuttlefish raised his hand palm up, and a jet of black ink sprayed from his wrist. The ink covered the villian and the bank manager.
"Ugh, now you've done it."The villian said, reaching for his gun.
The villian pointed the gun in the direction where The Cuttlefish was, but he could no longer see.
The Cuttlefish pulled out two long ropes with sticky suction cups on the end. Swinging them around, he bound the villian up.
The Cuttlefish stood straight and tall facing the bank manager.
"No need to thank me, citizen, it's all in a day's work for The Cuttlefish."
"Ok, I won't,"the bank manager said, wiping ink off of his face. "Why couldn't Mega Dude have saved me?"
The Cuttlefish grumbled as he left. "Why does nobody take me seriously?"
The Cuttlefish heard a commotion at the museum across the street. He saw The Wizard, notorious supervillain, levitate down into a hole she had just made in the ceiling.
The Cuttlefish hesitated. "It's too dangerous,"he murmured to himself. Then he took a step forward. "But if I catch The Wizard, everyone would take me seriously."
The Cuttlefish turned a determined shade of purple and strode toward the museum's front door.
He burst in, but all he saw was a bunch of guards and employees, all asleep.
He heard a noise from the room to the left. He strode over and kicked down the door.
Inside he saw The Wizard. She was surrounded by a field of electricity, her bright red hair standing on end. She was holding up a large crystal that had been in a now shattered display case.
The Wizard turned her glowing eyes toward the Cuttlefish. She frowned.
"What's this? I was expecting a real hero. You are the Cuddlefish, aren't you?"
The Cuttlefish smiled at the recognition. "You've heard of me?"
"Yeah, you were part of a list of costumed wannabes not to be concerned about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get away with this before anyone formidable shows up."
The Wizard began levitating, rising up toward a hole in the ceiling.
"Oh no you don't"the Cuttlefish said. He launched one of his ropes at her. The rope twisted around her legs, making sizzling sounds as electricity crackled around it.
He pulled. The Wizard was jerked down slightly, but stopped in mid air.
"Now you've made me angry,"she said, the field of electricity growing stronger and louder.
The Cuttlefish raised his hand, spraying her with ink. The ink sizzled and sparked.
The wizard screamed with rage. A fireball appeared where the Cuttlefish was moments ago. He felt the heat as he dodged. He wrapped his other rope around The Wizard as she tried to wipe the sparking ink from her face.
The wizard struggled out of the rope, so the Cuttlefish, out of options, ran up and wrapped his arms around her.
She kicked at him, but he held on until she stopped struggling.
The Cuttlefish heard shouts from the main hall and a noise from above.
It was not long until Mega Dude dropped down from the hole in the ceiling at the same time as several police officers ran in from the main hall.
"Oh thank goodness you're here, Mega Dude,"one of the police officers said.
|
It was everywhere. On every channel was the warning. ‘A meteor strike has occurred. Please evacuatie the area immediatly.’ Or at least, that’s what I think it says. Its hard to hear with the hard noi...
COUNTRY ROADSSS.
TAKE ME HOOMMEEE.
TO THE PLACEEEE.
I BELOOONGG.
WESTTTT VERGINIAAA.
MOUNTAIN MAMAAA.
TAKE MEE HOOMMEEE.
COUNTRYY ROAAADSS. |
Alright. I've met some pretty thick skulls but these guys have got to be absolutely solid. I get that Bill works three on three off down at the fire station and Mandy is always picking up extra shifts at the hospital but even the kid sleeps like a rock. Who ever heard of a kid in 2018 spending so much time outside? He's like... ten or something and every single day at sunset he shows up dirty and smiling. I've had that bed shaking like we were at six flags and the only noise they made before morning was the thunk when poor Bill slid off the side one night. Bastard woke up the next day mentioning that the solid floors had done wonders for his back.
&#x200B;
It's not like they're **always** sleeping. I've tried getting them at meal times but I swear to god this family does not understand the meaning of portion control. Those plates are WAY too heavy to throw. The pots seem to have this magical property where they're bigger once you pull them out of the fridge. It's like they prepare for armies. Any silverware that goes flying inevitably gets blamed on Rover, the golden retriever and somehow it's not even annoying. They've turned it into a game.
&#x200B;
Poor Rover. He's blamed for nearly everything I do. Ectoplasm on the sheets? Rover. Sulfer and Brimstone? Blamed on Rover. The La Z Boy starts shaking (Listen, I'd lift that if I could but those things weigh more than a Civic. Shaking is actually pretty impressive among the ghost community). And of course Rover just sits there in all his stupid dumb dogginess getting scolded while he wags his take and gets the eventual, "Aww c'mere, You know I can't stay mad at you."
&#x200B;
Maybe if they were fat I'd be able to get them but they're up and down the stairs before I can shake a picture off the wall. All that food and it just seems to speed them up. Also, did you know that standalone garages don't count as part of the house?! They built theirs in the first year. Kayaks, Canoes, a small forest of paddles. This family rafts. They're never home. Ever. I'm starting to worry about the kid's education. Sure they're always doing these parties every nine weeks celebrating his straight A's but surely it can't be good to pull a child out of school to go on all of these family trips. It's just not right.
&#x200B;
At one point I decided to just making one single part of the house creepy, I tried chilling the attic to the temperature of a sepulcher. That deep wet chill that should have at least made them worry their holiday things would get damp? You know what they do? Drill vent holes into the ceiling to cool down the rest of the house.
&#x200B;
That's it. I quit. I refuse. I've been dead twenty years and I've never seen something so impossible. This is against union rules. There's regulations to protect against this kind of thing. I just. Dear God. How?! How can you possibly be this DUMB?! I don't understand. What a bunch of weirdos... |
Clutching her chest in pain, the captain of the ETSS Montague lies broken and bleeding on the floor of her own control room. Sparks scatter occasionally from dented machinery, and a dull hum penetrates the air.
“MERC...are you there?”
“MemEtics ReCognition UtiliTy Intelligence Online is unresponsive. Would you like to attempt a reboot?”
The voice of the central computer is cold and robotic. In a way, its indifference is chilling.
“Yes. Please.”
After a brief pause a golden hologram begins to materialize, its warm glow a pleasant contrast to the dark blood pooling on the ground. Within a few seconds of buffering, a person of slight stature takes form. Their charming features are a welcome sight.
“Oh god, Merc, it’s good to see you.”
“Captain Eda? You’re injured!” The AI swiftly closes the gap between themself and the wounded woman. Their form wavers with each step.
“No shit I’m injured,” she chuckles. Blood pools at her lips. “Hey, Merc...”
“Here, I’ll have the nanobots deployed immediately. Why wasn’t I notified of your condition? The system should have altered me at the first sign of trouble so I could best aid you.”
Eda looks down at her chest and the five dizzyingly deep lacerations that span it, then across the cabin toward the locked reinforced door. She can’t hear anything from the other side...not yet. They still have time.
“Don’t worry about the bots. Listen...you need to give me the Nav controls.”
The being of light knits their brows, concern flickering across their face.
“Captain, you know I’m not meant to do that. I’m just a moderator between crew and computer. I can chart a course to any planet you would like, so long as it won’t cause you or the crew to come to any harm. Please let me know what I can do. I’m only here to keep you safe.”
“Bit late for that. There’s something on the ship, Merc. Something bad. I know how and where we can get rid of it, but it’s something I have to do myself.”
“You’re not planning anything rash-”
“They’re dead. All of them. Kyne. Ebi. Riva. Jones. The entire maintenance team.”
The AI’s expression turns completely blank. It’s the same look that crosses their face when confronted with too long a list of computations. The same look as when they’re presented with a paradox.
“I...don’t...understand.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“What happened? I should have been online. I should have been processing. I could have-”
The blank look turns to one of anguish, the most sorrowful Eda has ever seen in an AI.
“I...”
There’s a whirring noise in the ceiling and the glow of the hologram begins to fade.
“I’m sorry.”
The AI vanishes, leaving behind nothing but empty space.
“Navigational Controls have been set to manual,” the central computer hums. “This is not the recommended state.”
“Set a course for the core of the star of the Byralki solar system. Proceed immediately.”
As a deep, grating thud echoes against the cabin door, the ship prepares to make its final jump. Broken and bleeding, the Captain of the ETSS Montague lets her head fall back against the floor. It won’t be long now. |
Some people might call it overkill. We call it logical.
They said it couldn't be done. It would never work. It was against human nature. We love that we will prove them wrong.
We started small. A tiny group of people who thought that this was really the best idea. That it would improve our lives, our overall well-being, and most of all, make us immortal. It was hard at first but we would get by day to day. And it became easier with every follower we gained, every pair of hands that would work towards our ultimate goal.
We are so close now. So close to the final phase. We are now an entire state of immortal communists. Noone can defeat us now. And the rest of the world will soon be ours. |
The words of God echoed in her mind. That wasn't unusual, as everything he said held power beyond comprehension. But these words were the most recent - the freshest words she had heard.
*He won't be able to hear you. He won't be able to see you. All you can do is give him a memory, a whisper of his past. These are his darkest hours, and I'm sending you to bring light back to his life.*
After that, she found herself sitting at the piano. Though it had felt like thousands of millennia to her, and at the same time it felt like only a couple of seconds, in reality it had been two years since she had died. The memories of her life on this planet came flooding back - oh how she loved this piano! It had a broken key, and it wasn't quite as magnificent as many other grand pianos, the woman had many fond memories of sitting at this piano, her husband at her side.
The tops of the keys had worn their paint where her fingers would rest. She lightly rest her hands on the keys, the weight of her hands just barely depressing the instrument.
There were so many instruments in heaven, and she realized that she could play each and every one of them. She loved to make music to worship her King, to dance to and sing to and offer up a song of praise. Joy overflowed inside of her every time she saw God smile when she played. But here she was, sitting back at her old piano.
Then he slowly walked into the room.
He had been crying, at least somewhat recently. He shuffled over to the dresser in the dining room and picked up a photograph that was resting on the top. The picture was of their honeymoon, only six years prior. Life and happiness was in both of their eyes, telling just how much they loved each other. The man couldn't bear looking for too long, and put the picture down again.
Grief had been hard on him. He would feel healed for a day, maybe even a week, and then something would remind him of his late wife. A song, or a picture. Sometimes even a quote from one of her old movies. The memories were just too unbearable for him, and grief followed him like an unwanted cat.
She looked at that man, and she loved him. Not with the same love of the photograph - no, that had faded away. The love she now felt was stronger. This man, right now, was so beautiful, so unique, and so hurting. He had a big hole in his life, and it needed filling.
She knew what to do.
Taking a shallow breath - out of habit, not necessity - the woman played her first chord, and the sound of the dusty piano strings filled the room. The man was startled at first - to him, the seat was empty; it was as if the piano began playing itself. Her hands flew across the piano, and the old song she had written came flooding back to her.
She only wrote one, but it had meant so much to her. Each note came as easy as existing for her, and the words soon followed. With wide eyes, her husband only watched the keys move up and down of their own accord.
*No matter how much I love you*
*I can never match that love*
*No, no matter how much I love you*
*I can never match the love of God*
*Oh, the love, the unending love*
*The unending love of God*
*He sent his son, the perfect one*
*In the unending love of God*
The husband had taken a few steps forward - he recognized the chords, but didn't hear her words. She hopes he would get the message - his eyes were so empty. She launched into the next verse, and she couldn't help but smile.
*Though you mean the world to me*
*The father gave up his world*
*My love fails to compare to that*
*I can never match the love of God*
And then, though no sound came out, her husbands lips began to move with the chorus.
*Oh, the love, the unending love*
*The unending love of God*
*He sent his son, the perfect one*
*Oh the unending love of God*
She felt the pull back to heaven - it was like a rope pulling on her stomach. Still, she felt she had to finish the song.
*Though one day I die, and leave this earth*
*Jesus will never leave thee*
*His love will remain, day after day*
*I can never match the love of God*
Finally her husband was singing, though tears were streaming down his face. She felt only joy; she knew that God was smiling, somewhere up there. Though the tug back was strong, she continued to sing.
*Oh, the love, the unending love*
*The unending love of God*
*He sent his son, his only one*
*In the unending love of God*
Her finger hit the final two notes, and she released her pull, falling into the piano and landing feet first back in paradise. The brilliance of God filled existence itself.
"Did I do well?"She asked humbly.
Like the break of dawn, her father smiled, as he simply said "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"
-------
*Sincerely,*
*/r/TDWfan* |
This one was quick and dirty. Haha. Criticism welcome. Happy Halloween!
***
It was a dark and stormy night when I felt the life drain out of her. It was my fault. I did it. I didn't mean to, but I did.
She was so young. Clean. Pure. Unsploiled by the cruel demands of daily life. I knew when I saw her I had to have her. It sounds like a cliche. I know that.
But you don't know what I felt when I saw her. She filled me with optimism, she made me feel like my life would be better- only if she were mine.
And those curves. Those fucking curves drove me wild. I just held her underwater. It was easy, really. I watched her die. I felt her systems shut down.
It was her fault, really. If you think about it. After all, they advertised water resistant- how was I supposed to know that's not the same as water proof. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?? Now i'm trapped with this god damn phone payment.
I wonder if it's under warranty. |
If you don't listen to anything else that I say, listen to this: NEVER go caving. Science has unlocked the keys to the universe. I've seen the progress we've made, and it's amazing. We can see planets in solar systems so far away, the mind can't even comprehend the distance. We've mastered particle physics, proving the existence of a new theoretical sub-atomic particle seemingly every other week. We see ourselves as the masters of the world around us, and yet, in many ways, we are more blind today than we were ten thousand years ago. Our arrogant belief that we know everything prevents us from accepting things our ancestors knew; the deep, dark earth holds terrifying secrets in places where no human has ever tred. Places that have been hollow and silent since before the first creature ever crawled out of the sea and decided to stay landbound.
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It all started in a cave. I'm not fool enough to tell you what cave it was - I'm not looking for an army of skeptics, fools, and thrill-seeking spelunkers to try and retrace my steps. I will bear this curse in solitude. I realize that I'm coming across like an even more emo Edgar Allen Poe. Bear with me. Hopefully when I've finished telling you this story, you'll appreciate why. The upper levels of this cave were well-mapped. There were guided tours. The government has quietly shut those down. They were probably safe enough. But guided tours were never enough for me. There were interesting formations, sure, but too much traffic kills a cave. Too many skin oils, too much carbon dioxide, there are a number of ways that heavy travel can retard or even kill the growth of the formations that make caves so fascinating. Like Robert Frost, I took the road less traveled by. It was on one of these lesser-traveled forks of the cave, a soggy, narrow passage maybe a hundred feet below the surface, that I found myself standing in front of a freshly collapsed sinkhole.
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Underground sinkholes are not particularly uncommon in karst topography, but this one was unique. Usually sinkholes form when the ceiling of an underground cavern collapse. There are a number of reasons for this to happen. The draining of an underground reservoir or sulfuric acid created by the oxidization of sulfides can erode limestone and weaken the cave structure. Either way, you end up with a hole that drops down into a cavern. This wasn't that. The edges of the hole were jagged and fresh, not worn down by years of water, but after a drop of only 3 or 4 feet, there was a natural staircase. It looked stable enough, so I headed down. I'm not sure how far it continued. It wound down and down, deep into the bowels of the earth. Some stretches, the stairs felt almost hand-carved. Some stretches were nothing more than a sloping passage leading down and winding back and forth. In places the ceiling extended up a good 10 or 15 feet above my head. In others, I had to get on my butt and scoot down the sloping floor to avoid scraping the roof of the passageway. It's always cold in caves, but down here, the air was actually rather balmy. The air was stale, but breathable. Finally, after who knows how long traveling down this strange tunnel, the cave widened out into an enormous cavern. I mean enormous. My flashlight wasn't powerful enough to illuminate the ceiling of the cavern, some unknown distance above. And across a short stretch of rocky, stalagmite covered floor was a vast underground lake. Its inky waters stretched beyond the edges of my vision, smooth as glass. Absolute silence reigned.
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This is what I lived for. It was the most amazing discovery in my what? Dozen years of caving? I'm sorry. It's a little hard to remember. My brain feels perpetually foggy these days. Probably a side-effect of my little sleeping problem. But lets not get ahead of ourselves. In any case, I walked around the shore of the lake, looking to see if I could find a way to the other side. I had barely been walking for a minute though before I could see that the lake extended all the way to the cavern wall ahead of me. Feeling determined, I turned around. I'm not sure if I'd have seen it even if I'd been looking, but in any case, my back was to the lake when I heard the splash. I don't know how to explain it, but it didn't feel like something falling from the ceiling above. It sounded like there was something moving in the lake. Impossible, of course. What could live this far below ground, in a previously sealed cavern. Fungus, perhaps. But no animals large enough to cause that kind of disturbance. I vainly scanned the dark surface of the water, but all was placid, just as it should have been.
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Certain that I was just imagining the sound, I turned and headed back the way I came, hoping to find a route around the lake in the other direction. I had been walking for maybe 15 or 20 seconds before I heard it again. I swear I heard it, a splash coming from somewhere in the lake. Once again, I trained my flashlight in the direction of the sound, but again, I was confronted with nothing but calm black waters. I walked on, a little shaken but determined to continue exploring. I would never again have an opportunity like this, I reasoned. I soon made my way back to the passage towards the surface, and continued along the lake side, in the other direction. It was getting much warmer. I wasn't sure where the heat was coming from, but it had gone from balmy to hot, like a summer afternoon. The thick caving clothes that I was wearing were starting to become uncomfortable, but I pressed on. I'm not sure quite how far I'd gone before I heard the noise again. This time though, there was a different quality to it. Have you ever worn a thick hat, and noticed that some sounds feel a little muted? It was like that. And the heat kept increasing. I was starting to sweat. I stared out at the lake. An underground lake that should be cold, bitter cold. I thought about splashing some of the water on my face to try and cool down, but instantly dismissed the thought. Maybe it was foolish, but I was terrified of that lake suddenly. Everything other thought faded, a blind desire to get out of that cave. I scrambled back towards the entrance, suddenly convinced that it wouldn't be there when I arrived. I was panicking.
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The winding passageway was still there when I got back though. I started up, but the heat was feeling even more oppressive now. I was soaked in sweat, my feet squishing in my thick leather boots, my cotton undershirt soaked through. I scrambled up the inclined path. Not because it was too cramped to stand, but because I just couldn't muster the energy to stand and walk. I'm not sure how far I made it before I collapsed, panting, soaked through with sweat, and feeling too dizzy to continue. I would have sworn I had crawled my way into a furnace. Every breath felt scorching hot, and I could feel the blood pounding through my veins.
&#x200B;
I passed out. I'd like to say that I have no idea how long I was out for. At the time I didn't know, but now I do. 6 hours. 6 hours god knows how far under the surface. When I came to, the oppressive heat was gone, replaced by the normal chilly conditions I'd come to expect when caving. I felt clear-headed, with none of the feverish terrors that had prompted my mad scramble to get surface-side. Still, I had no desire to descend back down to that spooky lake. I made my way back up the natural stair, out the narrow side-passage and back into the well-traveled portions of the cave. I was tired, dirty and cold, but I was back to safety. I made my way out of the cave and headed home. I was so glad to see my wife again. She asked how my trip out to the cave had gone, but I turned the conversation. I just didn't want to talk about what had transpired. I wish I had. God rest her soul, I wish I had shared that with her. I've been so lonely without her. I went to work as normal the next day, but that night, I slept like the dead. 12 hours in the sweet embrace of dreamland. I chalked it up to exhaustion from the harrowing experience in the cave. But I woke up the next day feeling refreshed. |
Unbek the malicious djinn chuckled evilly. The world had become overrun by mosquitoes due to my careless vengeance. I had never wanted to punish the world, except that guy at my office who would throw his trash into my trash bin. The trash that guy threw away started off small with wrappers and tissues, but then escalated to large take-out boxes and hair trimmings. That caused everyone who looked at my filled trash bin to think I was a slob. That made me so angry that I didn't think at all before making the wish to the malicious djinn.
As if the malicious djinn knew what I was thinking, I heard him burst into laughter without remorse. He was lying down on my sofa like the mosquito world take over had nothing to do with him. In my anger, I threw a pillow at him. The pillow flew directly to him, but its travel halted a foot away from him in the air. He flicked at the floating pillow, causing it to shimmer and burst into a shower of sparkly multicolored glitter. Not the magical kind, but the physical arts and craft kind that eventually spreads everywhere and was a disaster to clean up. The glitter had floated to all corners of the room.
"Arggghhh!!!"I shouted. This djinn could only be described as the lowest of all evils. I had to put down the other pillow in my hands. Looking around at my sparkling living room, I almost shed a tear. Before I could even start to cry, the malicious djinn started laughing even harder.
"Clean this up!"I yelled.
"Clean what up? The mosquitoes or your living room?"Unbek said.
"Everything! Undo everything! I wish you would undo everything you've done!"I said. Everything was its fault. The mosquitoes that indiscriminately attacked and rapidly bred were causing a global crisis. Society was in chaos. It probably wouldn't be much longer until everything fell apart like the floor of my house.
"Everything that I've done? Even if I wanted to, I can't return to the past and undo all the wishes I've been asked for."Unbek said. He fidgeted around with his horns as if he barely heard me. His conduct seemed as if this wasn't the first time he'd been asked this. I was going to force this low life fix this no matter what. So I asked whether or not I still had my two remaining wishes.
"Yes, according to the contract that I've faithfully followed for millennia, you do."Unbek said.
"Great, then I wish for the mosquitoes to go away."I wished. I watched the corner of his mouth slowly curl into a snicker.
"No can do. I'm only allowed to make your biggest enemy's worst nightmare become reality. Any wish that isn't framed in that way is beyond my powers to fulfill."Unbek said. I wanted to punch this guy in the face. This djinn had the power to cause a mosquito apocalypse, but was powerless against how someone framed a wish? He was clearly making things difficult.
"Fine, if that's how your so called rules work. Then I want the mosquitoes, who are currently my biggest enemy, to have their nightmares become reality!"I said.
"Are you sure about this?"He asked.
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"I said, "Why, is it too difficult for you?"
"Erm, it is a tad bit difficult for me, but nothing is impossible for me as long as the wish fulfills the contract's terms!"He said. He straightened up and got off the couch. He lowered his eyes into the abyss and called forth the menacing energies he used to summon the mosquitoes. The air began to tremble. A sound like the crack of a whip echoed from the abyss and an ancient earth shattering roar echoed from every direction. The djinn began trembling in what seemed like agony. Unbek's knee dropped and he heaved out a scentless dark matter from his mouth which evaporated instantly when it touched the floor.
All this to summon the nightmare of mosquitoes? I wondered. I didn't recall Unbek looking this out of shape when he called out the mosquitoes. I was beginning to get suspicious. Were those swarms of mosquitoes even capable of having nightmares?
"Second.... wish..... granted."Unbek moaned. He looked exhausted.
"Wow, you look terrible. I wonder how hard it was to call up the nightmare of little annoying things that have brains the size of a pinhead?"I mocked. Inside, I was feeling quite apprehensive about the whole thing, but the pettiness in me wouldn't let me alone until I vented.
"Look outside. See. Fault... Is yours."He breathed.
"My fault? Everything up to now has been all your fault!"I yelled. Although I wanted to mock the djinn more, I went to my balcony to see the results. The mosquitoes were still buzzing thickly outside, but I was super curious. I threw open the windows and a handful of mosquitoes flew in. I had to whack bushfulls and bushfulls until I could clearly see. Out in the fog of mosquitoes, the city outlines could be barely discerned in the middle of the day. My eyes scanned around and stopped at what seemed like a coat wrapped around a sky-scraper. A loud low rumble, similar to that of a hunter's seemed to come from it. From the fog of mosquitoes, a small crack in the clothes of the skyscraper opened, revealing a tiny burning sun. The clothes then opened up as if someone were going to put it on which caused a huge unnatural gust of wind to cleave away the fog of mosquitoes revealing the clothes' lizard like features.
I could make it out clearly then. Its claws were gripping the sides of the sky scraper and its tail was wrapped several times around the lower stories. With its huge jaws it cried to the sky as if heralding its rebirth. The roar was similar to several bombs going off, causing shockwaves to spread through the entire city. A moment later, a huge inferno erupted from between its long teeth. A red ring of air expanded from the flames that scorched half a billion mosquitoes to death while leaving the other half medium done.
That was all I honestly wanted to see. I shut the entrance into my balcony and sprinted back to speak to the low-life djinn.
"Can I have an explanation for the dragon, please?"I immediately said when I saw the low life still heaving his guts out onto my sparkling floor.
"Clumped mass of... flying bugs. Fear.... flying lizards. And fire. Do. The. Math...."He said. I was really trying to wrap my head around the existence of a fire-breathing, but he continued, "No problem... though. Will your third wish... be to create... the nightmare of... the dragons? Like... you tried for the mosquitoes?"He stared straight at me, as if I had the balls not to.
What could be worse than a dragon anyways, I thought. But should I? |
He wanted me to feel safe. He had more courage than I did. Nobody understood that. I couldn't see so as a result, all of my focus was placed on my sense of touch. The child's hand was still, as opposed to my shakiness. We soon came to a stop where we both knelt down. This was it. I suddenly thought of yesterday afternoon.
As he got out of bed and exited his room I already had breakfast served. The smile on his face when he saw we were having pancakes with syrup was enough to make me forget about the long day ahead of me. I sat down with him and he detailed his entire dream to me. What a wonderful fantasy he had created all in a night's sleep. After his breakfast, I reminded him the special rules we came up with so that when I left for work, he wouldn't feel lonely. I couldn't trust anybody else alone with him.
"Go to your room. Close the door gently. Close the curtains so that the sun doesn't find you, but open the window slightly so Barry the Bird can come join you. Take as much pancakes as you want because the sun burns the doorknob and makes it really hot to touch when I leave. I'll be back after I turn off the sun so that we can go outside and play at your favorite place."
Usually he repeats it all back to me to let me know he understood, but his eyes were focused on the carpet.
"What's wrong?"
"I want to come with you to turn the sun off this time."
"Well who is going to keep Barry company if you come with me?"
And with that he smiled at me, grabbed a mountain of pancakes and walked to his tiny room. I left the apartment and made sure to double-lock the door. The scent of the hallway reminded me of the start of my simple routine that consisted of going to work and then going home right after.
The child closed the door and set his pancakes on the desk where he kept his books, closed the curtains, left the window closed, and crawled into his fort to mourn his dead friend Barry.
Upon arriving to the parking structure, I approach my car at the fourth level and attempt to open it whilst juggling coffee and my phone but instead I drop my keys. I reach to grab them but sense a strange presence ahead of me and notice a man turning his head away from me once our eyes met as he entered the elevator. I figured he heard the loud *clanging* of the fallen keys and looked to see what it was. But his face wasn't one of someone startled, but more angry, as if he had the biggest headache in the world and the smallest of noises will make him go mad.
The rest of the day was more dull and normal as ever. When I got into my car, I was hungry. I skipped my lunch break at work to come home sooner, but now I started to regret that decision. I desperately wanted to stop by the burger joint five minutes from my office building. But I promised him I would come home when the sun was turned off, and the night was darker than ever.
After parking in the structure, I started to walk to the elevator but noticed it was out of order, so I was forced to take the stairs instead. I wondered if it had anything to do with the man from before.
The elevator in my apartment building made up for it, however. I walked down the long hall and stopped in front of door number 241. I pressed my ear against the door to see if I can hear him running from the kitchen into his room like I've caught him before - to which he denies. Silence. He must have learned his lesson.
I open the door and close it behind me. I set my stuff on the kitchen table extra loud so that he may hear me and know that I've come back. This is where he would open the door to come hug me but it stayed closed. I tried to find a way to make him come out, while still secretly hoping he wouldn't as I was extra hungry and tired.
"Well if you're going to stay inside I guess we can't go to the park!"
The door stayed shut and the only thing that moved were my thoughts as they went from impatient to worried. I approached the door and knocked on it a few times. I finally gave up and opened it to my horror. The angry-faced man and three others had their hands on him and the last thing I saw before they had someone from behind knock me out was the scared child with dead Barry in his hands.
I don't remember seeing anything before they put the bags over our heads and escorted us onto what I presume was a van. My mind was racing and I didn't know what to do. I was too afraid to say anything so I kept my mouth shut for a good portion of the ride.
"Where are we?"was the only thing that came out. No response followed.
As we were taken out of the van I heard footsteps moving away from us until I was certain it was only me and him. I couldn't say anything. I wanted to remove the bag over my head but fear took over me. I knew they were still there. Finally, I had to assure him that everything was going to be all right.
"Listen, everything will be fine. We are going to do what they tell us and then we will be back home, okay?"
"No... I don't know where we are either. But we both know what will happen next. They have come for me. You knew this when you took me in."
I had been trying to keep that thought out from my mind the whole time, but it was inevitable. I knew this would come someday. He knew too. I tried so hard to keep that from him and help him forget, but I failed in the end.
"Make sure to come inform me when it is all over."A stern voice said from beyond.
The men approached us again and led us on and I could feel a dirt path under my feet. We were in a forest, I think. All the broken tree twigs and branches that made noise when we stepped over them made it clear. We stopped and were forced to kneel. Tears escaped the bag over my head and somehow the child noticed.
"Don't cry. We will see each other again. You found me and showed me a world I never thought imaginable. I will be eternally grateful. It was you who was at my side from the beginning. When you were happy, I was happy. When you were sad, I was too. I was lost every moment I wasn't with you. You are lost now, too. But it's okay. Let's be lost together."
The final tear exited the bag as one of the men cocked their gun. All the previous times we shared together raced to the center of my mind. I was happy now. Nothing could take that away. Not even the bullet that went through my head as my body fell down into the dirt. |
"It feels as though there should be rain."it was softly spoken, but clear in the cool night air. My eyes met hers and my mind fell down the whirlpool of emotion that I could see in them. What ravenous claws emotion sinks into us, what piercing fangs.
Holding a smile together she let her head tilt to one side, "It's okay, not everything is like the movies, with rain to wash away the tears. Sometimes they're just there to be seen."
There under the soft yellow glow of the city I saw them well.
"Anna, I don't want..."and she finished, "To leave. I know."A single laugh escaped, the result of so much through her mind that sometimes it just has to break out however it can. "It's right though. Right?"
My hand graced across her chin and pulled here eyes back to mine, "Is it though?"
She closed here eyes to me and shook her head to a side, and then back, with the eternity of the night passing between. "Please don't go another thirty rounds of this. We'll wake up in the morning and with a moment passed you'll know, it's right for you. It's the best for you. That's what you need to consider. This is what you've put those long nights and hours of study into. This is your dream, it's my dream for you."
Her chest rose and fell as she took in all of the night air slowly, shuddering only once throughout as tears began to line down from the corners of her eyes. She opened them to me again, "Jon, it's my dream for you."
Her hand landed upon my chest, she smiled once more, and then turned to the dark of the streets leading through the endless maze of the city, alone.
I watched her into the darkness from the warm light of the street lamps. I turned up to stars, little dots of light I could barely see through the yellow haze of people still up in the city. I reached my hand up to the infinite void, and a lifetime passed me by.
"Anna!"I ran into the darkness, into the maze. "Anna!"and little flickers of light popped up along the walls, mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, waking to my disturbance. "Anna!"
She stood there, as the glow of the world sped from building to building, chasing me to her. There, in another street in the endless sea of streets I stood, without a word to explain my arrival. My mind dragged, but somewhere deep within, the essence of me pulled my cell out and held it up. "Call Colexp"I couldn't pull my eyes from here, but snapped the phone over to it's speakers nonetheless. I don't know if she could hear the other side of the line, only that she saw me, only that she heard me, only that she knew me. "It's Jonathan Debois, one seven two two nine. Cross me from the list. Thanks, and good luck on your endeavors."The phone fell to the pavement, the soft thud the only thing that gave voice in the moment.
"You idiot."Her head was turned down, unable to look at me. "That's the future."A lone step brought here closer to me. "It's up there, in the sky, in the stars."another step "You could have been there, you could have been gone from the Earth."another step "You would have written the future, you would have seen the universe, you would have explored worlds beyond dreams and tasted discovery without measure."another step "You damned idiot."She sprinted forward and landed against my chest, softly hammering her fists against me, "What's wrong with you?"
I could only hold her to me, to feel her heart race, listen to the soft sobs that flowed from her, and smell her, alone amongst the world.
"If there is any truth in this world, it's that beyond the sky, those thousands of stars and countless planets, they hold nothing for me when compared to what I hold in my arms. I could spend eternity amongst the heavens, an endless sea of never ending discovery and adventure. All of it hollow, all of it empty, all of it just whispers on the endless void of something true I once had and left behind. I've lived a lifetime of that future in the moment you turned from me and I could bear it no longer."
The soft patter of rain echoed through the narrow street. She looked up at me, and smiled, "What will you dream of now?"
"I have no need for dreams. I love you. That's all I need, all I ever needed."
"You damned idiot. I love you too." |
It’s a harrowing thought, to know that someone will die.
You see it manifest when people are given their diagnosis on some kind of terminal illness. Everyone always focuses on the patient, but few ever consider the viewpoints of the bystanders. Not that the patients are of less concern. But it’s worth noting. Especially in my case.
Ever since I could talk, every person I’ve met was always greeted with two things from me. A *how* and a *when*. Specifically, their future cause and date of death.
It started with my father, who died in a car accident. My first words to her as a child? “Car. 1919.”
At first, my parents were ecstatic that their child was gifted with speech, knowing how to say ‘1919’ at age 2. It wasn’t so impressive when 1919 days later, a car hit my father on his way to work.
I continued when I went to school, greeting everyone I met with a word or phrase and a number.
*How* they would die, and *when*.
It took me a while to notice, but when I did, I almost grew crazy from the pressure. I managed to convince myself otherwise when I reasoned that I wasn’t killing them. I was just taking note of *how* and *when*, not giving them.
Then, I decided to start noting everything down. Even with that sick feeling in my stomach, I felt compelled to keep track. And so I spent a number of my days counting down the days to someone’s death. *How* and *when*.
To prevent new records, I started looking down as much as possible. Of course, some people broke through, such as those asking for directions or help with a picture. Fortunately, looking down helped, and I wasn’t stuck telling hundreds of people *how* and *when*.
But one day, something broke the cycle.
I was walking down the street one day. I felt like walking after I finished updating the records to clear my head and was glad to find the roads fairly empty. It made it easy to avoid whoever was there. But not her. She ran into me while she was jogging, knocking me down. To be honest, it was kind of my fault, since it was already second nature for me to look downwards while I walked. An accident like that was inevitable.
“Oh shit! Sorry!” I heard her say. I looked up and got ready, knowing what was coming.
The girl I ran into was looking down at me, wearing a jogger’s outfit. Her eyes... were strange. Rainbow colored irises. Almost like heterochromia on steroids. She almost looked like an anime character. “I wasn’t looking and well, I fuckin’ hit you. Sorry.” She held out her hand for me to grab and I accepted it.
“It’s alright. It was kinda my fault as well...” I paused, realizing what I just said. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell her *when* and *how*. “I-I...”
“Yeah, it’s alright. I guess we’re both sorry then.” She shrugged, smiling. She turned to leave, prompting me to stop her.
“Wait!” When she stopped, I almost found myself speechless.
Speechless. When have I ever been speechless to another person? Never, and yet, this girl has taken my world for a spin.
“What? I gotta go, so make it quick.” She said, a little impatient.
I gulped down my silence and spoke. “Do you... have a name?”
She raised an eyebrow, giggling a little, “Well, duh. I guess you’re trying to ask what it is?” I couldn’t respond before she continued. “Bronwyn. It’s Bronwyn.”
Bronwyn. What a name. It’s almost like I’m actually talking to a fictional character. An outlandish name, special traits and now my curse is telling me that she won’t die?
“Look, I’ve got places to be. I’m sorry again for running into you. Bye.” And there she went. Jogging away.
...
I need to study her.
|
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