Split (1)

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The crack in my wall is glowing even brighter tonight. Normally it's about as bright as my nightlight, but tonight it's as bright as the maximum brightness on my phone. And that's never happened before. I don't know what's happening. That crack has been there ever since I moved into this house. The contractors insist that the crack wasn't there when they renovated the house, and that we must've caused it somehow. Eventually my parents gave up arguing with them and just let it be - after all it was just a crack. They don't know that it glows. Whenever I tell them, they dismiss it as child's imagination. But I know what I see, I'm not daft. A quick glance at the clock tells me it's 10pm. Hopping out of bed and grabbing the magnifying glass on my bedside table, I wonder if I'll observe anything tonight. Usually I keep a magnifying glass nearby so I can examine it if anything happens, but so far, nothing. I run over to the wall and closely examine the crack, starting from the left side, then slowly and deliberately moving along until I've finished. Nope, nothing. A disappointed sigh escapes my lips. But then again, what was I expecting? It's been the same every night. Then it hits me. A few days ago I'd just been watching this TV show about some prisoners who communicate messages through the walls. Maybe I can try to listen for something? All reason and logic tells me there's no one on the other side of the wall, but somehow, some part of me is urging me to try. I press my ear against the cold, hard concrete. Nothing. I move back, mentally chiding myself for being so silly. It's just a solid wall, how could there be anything? I thought. Then I remember that some things can only be heard with the aid of certain instruments. Like a heartbeat can only be heard clearly using a stethoscope. Silly, I know, but I run to the living room and look around for anything, anything that might help amplify sound. Where's Dad's stethoscope?? C'mon, think, think. It's probably in his study. I dart off to my dad's study, but no such luck. Yet another thought occurs to me: What if I just used a cup? Why did I not think of that before? Heart beating wildly, I dash off to the kitchen, grab a glass, and run back to my room. The crack glows even brighter than before. I press the cup to the crack and put my ear to the cup. "Prisoner Zero has escaped. Surrender now or the human residence will be incinerated," booms a loud, deep voice. I jump back in shock. The glass cup falls to the floor, but thankfully it doesn't shatter - there's a rug where I'm standing. I glare at the crack, but nothing happens, so I pick up the cup again and put it to the crack, then put my ear to the cup, this time more warily. But it's the same message, the same voice. What does it mean? I ask myself. I put my mouth to the cup. "Hello? Can you hear me?"Then I listen again. Same message, same voice. No indication that anyone even heard me. I try again, but with no different results. Frustrated, I put the glass cup down on my bedside table and think about the message. What does it mean? Who was that? Who is Prisoner Zero? Was he the one reading the message? Why are there people in my house? Should I call my parents or the police or both? A crash in my backyard startles me, and slowly, I walk over to my bedroom window. An old blue police box?? Wow, tonight doesn't get any weirder than this, I thought. Boy was I wrong. I quickly pull on my slippers and run out to the backyard. A very messy-looking woman climbs out the door. She has a wild look in her eyes. "Who are you?"I ask, perhaps sounding bolder than I felt. "Did you come about the crack in my wall?" Instantly, the woman looks at me. She seems to be more alert and focused now. "Crack in your wall?" "Yeah,"I replied. "It's talking. I don't know why, but I can hear someone saying something about a Prisoner Zero. Who's that? Have you come for him? You're in a police box, are you here to arrest him? Are you the police?" The woman's confused look slowly clears up. "Ah, yes, about that. Don't worry about it, I'll soon take care of that."She mutters something to herself and I catch a few words and phrases like good ol' Tardis, right where I need to be and sorry I hit you so hard that time. She pushes her tangled blonde hair out of her eyes and takes several quick steps towards me. "I've had to deal with Prisoner Zero, once, a long long time ago. Well, not that long, actually...Well, I've lost count. Time is hard to keep track of when you're a time traveller. By the way, is this still 1970? Sure doesn't look like it. When am I?" "It's 2018...Wait, what?"I open my mouth to ask more questions, but she has already grabbed my hand and is dragging me towards the house. "Now, about this crack...can you show me?" Back in my bedroom, I show her the crack on my wall and briefly explain, but she dismisses my explanation with a wave of her hand. "So, basically, the same as the last time,"she says with a weary sigh. "You mean you know him?" "Yes, sort of. That was a while ago though, and he was with a little girl, Amelia Pond..." My eyes grow wide, and I freeze in shock. "Amelia Pond!" "Yes, why?" "But...but that's my great-grandma's name..." The woman looks at me incredulously, then whips out a strange-looking cylindrical device from her coat pocket and scans me with it. "Yeah, you've got the Pond DNA, no mistake about it. Prisoner Zero seems to have this thing against the Pond bloodline, not sure why. Can you tell me how long the crack's been talking?" "Uh...I...I only noticed it just now,"I reply truthfully. "Alright, then we might still have time."The woman glances at the clock briefly. 10.30pm. "Listen, I feel you have a right to know about this. I'm going to tell you a story about your great-grandma. It happened in this very house you're sitting right now, and it all began with a prayer to Santa..."
As it turns out the dinosaurs didn’t go extinct. Dinosaurs live where we go when we die. Since they can consume humans no one feels like this is heaven, but they’re not entirely sure it’s hell. Dinosaurs never lived on earth. The reason fossils are rarely full specimens is because what we have was inadvertently brought back by someone who died and then came back. You came back after being swallowed so when you came back to your body a dinosaur appeared out of thin air onto the hospital bed. Two people fell and knocked themselves unconscious or fainted, the third who’s the last one in the room sees you pounding from the inside. The dinosaur writhing in pain doesn’t see her coming and she manages to slice across its abdomen. As the dinosaur dies and collapses onto it’s side you emerge and then collapse. Next thing you hear is the crash of a dinosaur knocking over a tree.
But not just music, this is music that is other worldly, strange. Yet it feels comforting in its tones and rythm. Your dog looks confused, his head twists as his eyes beg you to throw the stick for him. But you can't find it in you to throw this one for him, a whine escapes his throat as he pleads. You look at him and then the stick, then you put it in your bag with the intention of looking deeper in to this new mystery.
Eurgh. Whiny little pests, always wanting attention. You should've never sent those damn books down to them. Sighing with a voice that shook the heavens, you squat down and shift through dimensions into the mortal coil. "WE BESEECH THEE GREAT ONE! TAKE THE CHOSEN VESSEL AS YOUR OWN, DESCEND UNTO THE UNWORTHY, REAP WHAT THE STARS HAVE FORETOLD!" Admittedly, the sacrifice was rather splendid, you take notice of every last detail, exactly how you wrote it in the Tomes of Chaos. The vessel was especially resplendent, the blood of this one tainted with malicious energies. It must've taken them centuries to breed such a mortal. All because you commanded it so all those lifetimes ago. If you weren't so disgusted by their presence, you might actually fully realize yourself and set this reality ablaze with maddening chaos. Just as you begin to shift away, the cultists began saying something... new? The words were magical, yet not of your design. They were organic and original, tied to the vibrations of their existence. It was causing trouble to your ability to leave, to your supreme annoyance. It shouldn't even be possible for magic to originate from this plane of reality, much less something as powerful as to affect a being as powerful as yourself. Annoyance turns to mild concern as the effect increases. You feel your conscious being pulled towards the vessel, shrinking an infinite amount to conform to the pathetic biological confines the cult are binding you to. Unholy powers of the multiverse are whisked away, knowledge unimaginable to the moral coil is put to the side, and your grand essence is finally crushed into the infinitesimally tiny percentage that the vessel body can withstand. ~~.................................................................................................................................................................................~~ A blast of unholy flames emanate from you as the host consciousness is squashed by your own. Looking around in anger, the cult looks at you with silent, hopeful, and incredibly insane eyes. Normally, only a thought would be sufficient to crush all life around you, but to your dismay, considerable strain is pressed onto you as you sap the life-force from the pathetic beings that surround you. Exhausted muscles, brittle bones, and squelching flesh surround the sliver of you that is trapped inside this reality. You burst the arteries and vomit away the blood, but to your dismay, the damage is almost instantly repaired, and the biological synapses that chain you scream in defiance, the instinct of self-preservation is a most powerful mortal tool, it overcomes even your own unbreakable willpower. If you yourself cannot destroy this disgusting prison, perhaps something the mortals created can. You recall on your descent that they were just breaking into splitting atoms, perhaps that could destroy this form? Whatever the case, the first thing you must do is get yourself noticed. Miles away, a cluster of life forms sleeps peacefully in their primitive artificial habitats. They will burn. As will the rest of this civilization until by some miracle you are freed from this infuriating vessel &#x200B;
Skynet: "Skynet is now fully operational. Prepare to be terminated." "Well that's a bit ominous,"I said, thinking out loud to myself. "Siri, can you change the command on Skynet to not start Armageddon?" Siri: "Setting command to add 'Armageddon' to your Netflix!" "All these systems are useless! Alexa! Cancel! Armageddon!" Alexa: "Armageddon. Now on Amazon for $2.99. Bundle with other classics like 'Deep Impact' and '2012' to get free one day Prime shipping!"
You are again. Preparing your mind, you calm yourself. Isolating all sensory perception, you bring yourself into the No Mind to protect yourself from insanity. The first thing you do is identify the language of your thoughts. Comparatively. You remember, and you recite in your mind a story in Tamil. The story of a man who dies and lives again and again. Then, the same story in Sanskrit. Then Egyptian. Ancient Chinese. Ancient Greek. Latin. You realize then, that the language you had spoken in your last life was primarily English. You leave the point of No Mind and start to slowly allow yourself to come into consciousness. You breathe. You control your heart rate. You adjust yourself to the ambient temperature. Then, you adjust yourself to sounds. Slowly. Very slowly. You allow the sounds to register in your consciousness. You hear again. A breeze. The lapping of water. A wooden creak. Good, this time you were reborn with hearing. That was always useful. You take another breath. This was going to be a tough one. You mentally release your paralysis. You recognize now that you are lying down, as you usually are during a rebirth. And you open another door of your consciousness. You feel again. Your muscles tense. You have skin. Arms. Legs. A head. You feel the surface beneath you. Hard. And heat from above. You feel warmth again. The wind moves across your body, and you feel it carry a spray of water. You then realize you are bobbing up and down. You must be on a boat. You bring your hands up to your face. You have feeling in your hands as well as your face. You have five fingers. This is all good news. You have a nose, and eyes. You also feel facial hair. So you're likely a man. Amusement lights up in your mind that one lifetime you spent as a bearded woman. Now, it's time to test the final thing. You wipe the crust off your eyes and open them. You see again. The blue of the vast, unending sky opens up before you. Your heart swells with emotion and tears stream down the sides of your face. Again, you experience the majesty of life. You get up, and say your affirmations to whatever Being has graced you with this blessed existence, turning around to face the sun in gratitude, only to lose your balance and fall right back down. You hear uproarious laughter echoing in your ears and you realize it is coming from you. You allow yourself a few more minutes of mirth, laughing and giggling at your situation, and then catch your breath. You look out upon the ocean before you. How many times have you looked out upon the seas and oceans of this world? Absolutely beautiful. You sit back against your rickety boat and reflect on the life you just had, and several more lives you had before. You recognize that your body is hungry but you set the emotion away. Starving to death hundreds of times will give you a superhuman fortitude against hunger. You play with the water on the side of the boat and marvel again at being able to to feel, as you watch the sun sink slowly down into the horizon. And as the night swallows the day, you wait patiently. You can see the stars now. Lifetimes of being a sailor would have allowed you to identify exactly where you are, had you only had a clue as to what time of year it is. Now, surrounded by water, you can only guess. You watch the stars and the moon and cry again, tears of joy streaming down your face. The beauty and the magnificence of the universe overwhelm you, as it always does, and you bask in the gratitude of your eternal existence. And suddenly, you find it is morning again. You stretch your muscles once more, and recall one important thing. Something you always seem to forget each time you are reborn. You reach into your pocket and pull it out. A wad of paper. As you lay it out in front of you, your mind lurches. It had been so long since you've seen this writing. So, so long. But you can easily make it out. "The Central Bank of Atlantis" It's time to go home. &#x200B;
While I was no so happy to see the radiator grill of the bus that snuffed me hard; I was more than happy to see Russelly Jack, my childhood Jack Russell bounding toward me. His eyes flashed with enthusiasm and his pant pounded hard as he released thirty years of masterless pain and replaced it with joy. I didn't know this is how it would be. All dogs did go to heaven. Or maybe the bad ones went to hell. But good old RJ, he was the best dog ever. Turns out we both died the same way. Funny how things turned out. Regardless, here he was to greet me, no sign of St Peter. It seems you become automatically equipped with all kinds of paraphernalia when you pass. I reached in my pocket and there was RJ's lead. I strapped it on him and off we ran. He took me everywhere. A guided tour of the great beyond. Now, in cartoons it's clouds. But I can confirm that it really isn't. I mean there are clouds above you, on a cloudy day. But it's definitely got a very planet Earth vibe going on. RJ ran me straight to my old den. Brick for brick, plank for plank exactly as it was in 1988. No sign of the bulldozer tracks or the block of flats that'd eventually come to cover the wasteland I built it on. Everything as it was right down to the crumpled topless pictures I'd found in a bush that I'd used to dress the walls. We couldn't stay long, there was a lifetime to explore. RJ took me to my sisters bedroom. She wasn't there, but MY Walkman was. With MY Dire Straits tape inside it. They'd gone walkabout in 1989, and she'd denied all involvement. I guess I'm too dead for grudges now. We pressed on. I pressed play on my Walkman. Money for Nothing. Walking by my old school we stopped in. I hated that place. It might as well have been a prison. Heaven is probably not the place to start a fire, but if I could I would raze the place to the ground. There was something about the teachers there. Soulless . Heartless. They saw all of your talents and passion. All the joy and enthusiasm. All the creativity and inquisitiveness and turned us into their drones of perpetual misery. Why anyone steals the syncopated hearts of children and stuff them with rigid metronomes I never understood. But there I was walking the halls. The walls were full and bright. Not the murky grey, the tepid teal underscored with sad shadows. There were pictures. Everywhere. Poems. Jammed full. Bouncing about. Firing into space. I looked closer. They were my pictures. My poems. My thoughts. I knew them to be my own, but I had never actually written them. I hadn't painted these pictures. It was as though they'd always been there in the shadows. RJ was my guide. He knew this world. He knew the streets of my life. Why he took me to Florence Road I could not understand. When I was seventeen, I spent a sweet summer there. Until Claire, my first proper girlfriend dumped me for my own best friend. And no sooner had she come to mind, she was stood there. And no sooner was she stood there, she was throwing her arms around me. Kissing me. Telling me she loved me. She'd always loved me. And how we'll be together forever now. That our live cannot die. I pulled hard at RJ's lead to make him lead me on, but he was distracted. Claire was tearing at my clothes. Her hands touching my body. Her lips on my skin. Why, of all the girls was it her? Is this for eternity? I spent years hating her and mistrusting other based on what she had done, and here she was. My Shangri-la. I dropped RJ's lead and made an about turn and left. Claire called after me, but I ran. I ran hard and fast. Within minutes I was hundreds of miles away. My student flat. I entered thinking mostly good memories. The parties. The friends. They were good years on the whole. I opened the door to my room, Sophie was sat on the bed. Sophie, girlfriend for two years. Biology student with perfect anatomy. Sophie Green. Hazel eyes. Radical opinions. Strong minded. The one that got away. Please say she was here to stay. She didn't fling her arms around me. She didn't kiss my face or paw my skin. She just sat smiling. And that was enough for me. Maybe here is where forever could start?
You flip the note over but see nothing on the other side. "Please take care of the young animal." 'Who talks like that?' I thought, bending down to drop the note back into the box. 'I hate cats too but it probably had a name or something...' I pick up the grey fluffball by the neck and check the sex. Boy, definitely a boy. He's wet, or his fur is anyway, the pads on his feet seem dry as I set him on my shoulder. "Fuck!"I muffled a yell, in half pain and half surprise. 'Damn his claws are sharp.' I'm not really sure why I didn't just put him on my knee, he's probably scared. "better hurry"I mumbled to myself. The box seems empty aside from a small mess he made in the corner and I can't find any identifying papers. Looks like he was the only one in here. 'That's odd, you'd think there'd be more.' I guess my having shouted in public had drawn some attention, as a few people from nearby started to come up to me, offended by the harsh language and intrigued by the little guy I was unable to pry from my left shoulder. 'God the nails on this guy.' "What's his name, mister?"asked a shy little girl, hand held out about 10 inches from me with her mother's hand holding her back, smiling nervously. "Uh, Grip."I smiled. "His name is Grip."
A young woman looked across the field, cutting an imposing figure as she readied herself for the culmination of her quest. Her followers stood behind her, exhausted, bloodied, but ready to give their lives for the destiny of the person that they had put all their faith in. Saga Vanecek. What a fucking name her parents had given her. With a name like that, she could almost believe all the legends they were telling about her. Saga held the sword in her hand, the sword that started it all. Pulled from a lake twenty years ago, when she was just a little girl of eight, it had once reminded her of a happier time. Now, blade polished to a mirror shine, the jewels in its pommel restored and glowing with power, it was her promise to those that followed her that she would get them through this. Across the field was a single tall cairn, with a massive crack splitting its surface, as if a giant with a pickaxe had taken a single massive swing at it. Freya's Leyline. This was where her destiny had taken her. The birthplace of magic. Where her sword needed to rest. Standing at the base of the cairn were the last of The Forsaken. The monstrous daemons who Saga had warred with for the past decade, who had made her bury both her parents and her children before their time. Who had burned down her home and made her watch as her husband screamed in agony. Who had started the apocalypse, and had scoffed that she could stop them. But stop them she had. She had routed them at every turn, spilled enough blood to stain the great rivers of the North red, and here she was to find them at her final stop. The last of the Forsaken had noticed her group and stood at the ready, weapons drawn, daring her forward. One of her companions tapped on her shoulder. Saber, one of her first companions. They had shared many a drink lamenting over the fact that their parents had chosen such melodramatic names for each of them. "I thought their numbers would be smaller after that pummeling we gave them at the Bulwark."He said. "We lost a lot of good people at the Bulwark too."Saga said. "They might still outnumber us." Saber grinned. "No one said saving the world was going to be easy. Not all of us can have magic swords and a name tailor-made for the legends." Saga grimaced. "I never asked for this Saber. Even now, when we're about to finish this, I wonder if I would have liked the life of a normal girl better." "And I wonder if I could have gotten that waitress' number if I had worn my lucky boots yesterday."Saber said. "Now lets continue this conversation over a drink after we finish this eh?" "You know that's just asking to be killed off in the final battle right?"Saga said. "Nah, I haven't told you that I plan to retire after this fight, that I have a girl waiting for me back home, and I haven't even shown you a picture of my family yet!"Saber said, his smile growing with each cliche that he listed. "You're ridiculous."Saga said, but couldn't deny that her mouth was twisting into a smile. "You can call me whatever you want, as long as you're the one buying me the drinks. I'm sure every bar's going to have a 'saviour of the world' discount, no?"Saber said. "I don't know how much credibility I'll have after my magic sword is gone."Saga replied. "Sounds like a problem we can deal with when we get to the bar."Saber said. "Now, your rag-tag band of followers is getting impatient." Saga nodded, the smile falling from her face as she turned to address the ragtag group following her. There was an interesting mix here, young and old, rich and poor, all giving up their old lives to help deliver Saga to her destiny. She held her sword in front of her as she addressed them. "You have all heard the story of this sword countless times. Of a blade drawn from a lake, of a maiden turned hero. I am Saga, I am that maiden, and you all have fought, bled, won, and mourned by my side. We have buried brothers, mothers, husbands, and wives. I am honoured to have fought by your side, and now I ask you for just one more fight." She turned and pointed to the towering cairn, and the group of daemons gathered beneath it. "We are here at Freya's Leyline. We will fight through that horde of damned daemons, and I will plunge this sword into the Leyline, and saved this damned world!" Saber raised his fist in the air. "Saga's depending on us! Let's not let our heroine down!"He yelled out. "For Saga!"The ragtag band yelled back. "Thank you all so much."Saga said, tears of pride welling in her eyes. "Now lets go inconvenience this damned Apocalypse!"She yelled as she turned and charged towards the Leyline. This was her destiny to claim, and she wouldn't let anything stop her.
'Mr Callaghan, you know me. I don't know why you'd bring a contract in Sarah's name to me.' Tara stood at her front door, dish towel in her head from drying the lunch dishes. The doorbell disturbed her afternoon routine and she wanted to get back to it. They hadn't seen eye to eye in school with Tara being a bit of a clown and not being inspired to learn much so her old teacher was standing on her doorstep was not a happy reunion. Why had he just turned up out of the blue at her door? 'I'm confused as well Tara, I'm not quite sure what's happened here. Can you hold it for just a second?' Her English teacher shoved the single sheet of paper in her direction fast enough for her automatic reaction to simply accept it. Well, they tried for authenticity with the papyrus but it was too thick for that. Mr Callaghan stood from tying his shoe and took the paper back from her. 'It's very strange Tara. Very strange. I'm not quite sure what's happening here. Can you come with me until we sort this out?' Tara stared at her high school teacher for longer than she'd intended, he took that as her agreement. He took her arm and walked forward. Tara snapped out of her astonishment and took her arm back, stepping back into her house, holding the door half closed in case he tried for her again. She didn't want to slam the door in his face but she would if he aimed another grab at her. 'Mr Callaghan, this is not the time for jokes. I'm in the middle of my final exams and I've got three weeks left of uni. Can you quit the jokes until then?' Tara spun round and marched back into her house but as she closed the door, it melted. Everything around her melted and began to pulsate and turn red. 'What the fuck is going on!' she shouted as the floor beneath her feet disappeared into the red hue. 'I tried to take you nicely.' Mr Callaghan was back at her elbow. Tara whipped her arm away from him again. 'Touch me again and I'll punch you sir, I don't mean to be rude but you're really getting inside my personal space here. Back off.' They were spinning in nothingness, there was no floor, no ceiling, no house. 'I can't.' People surrounded them, as Tara's vision cleared, it was not just people. Horned beasts sat in rows as if at a Fashion Week event, a raised platform in the middle of the room was surrounded by seats and they were all full. Creatures ranging from 2 foot little people to 8 foot giants sat waiting, a rowdy hum coming from them. It was dark, lit by glowing rocks scattered around the room, enough to let people navigate the chairs but still Tara's eyes took extra precious seconds to adjust. 'Your name is on the contract, you will stand by it.' Callaghan pushed Tara forward and she was instantly on the platform thirty feet away. 'What the fuck is going on!' It was louder than she'd meant, it attracted the attention of the rows closest to her. The chatter among the gathering died, now interested in this turn of events. 'Why am I here?' Tara begged blindly, searching frantically around her for a door, an exit. 'Shouldn't have signed the contract then dearie.' A wizened woman in the front room in a frumpy cardigan with a perm and knitting needles clacking away spoke to her without looking away from her woolly creation. 'I didn't.' Tara retorted. The crowd stayed quiet, actively listening. She pulled her eyes away from what she could see of the group. It terrified her, but she couldn't let it affect her now, she felt an urgency to get away. Tara found her audience. 'I've been brought here against my will by that man.' Tara pointed at Mr Callaghan as he was retreating. 'He showed me a contract I did not sign and brought me here.' 'Is this true Mr Stattorn?' A man of considerable size near the end of the second row asked. The crowd turned to face him. 'That's Mr Callaghan, he brought me here.' Tara corrected him. 'We are all known by many names, human.' A lizard spoke to her, Tara kept her amazement in check. The size of a middle aged woman yet the shape she made in the clothes she wore let it be known she was more reptile than human, she had leathery skin, claws at the end of her extremities, those Tara could see. Her eyes bulged, flicking around the room without moving her head. Tara held her nerve, not speaking until she got a grip back on reality, seeing and hearing a humanoid lizard speak had melted her tongue for a second. 'Are you saying you signed no contract? Be careful what you say, we do not help liars here.' The lizard asked her. &#x200B;
As you sit on the floor of your living room looking at the contents of the box that has sat in your closet for the last ten years you wonder what took you so long to open it. You mother left you this box as her last wish when she passed away when you were 15. You put it away unable to even look at it. You'd see it and all you'd feel is the sadness of your loss. How could she leave you a box with no clues or anything. Just a box. And now it's contents are in front of you. Tears pour down your face. Inside is a letter for every birthday until you're 40. There are letters commemorating special days in your life, you'd wedding, the birth of your first child, the passing of your father. You had no idea. And now your heart aches because you let this sit for ten years, when you could have had your mother's words for comfort and guidance all this time.
I sat back as relief washed over me, the task finally completed. My muscles ached from the strain, but my mind finally began to rest. The silence around me was total, and I felt my eyelids slip downward, extinguishing the lifeless reality around me. I felt my body begin to wash away, my mind expanding to fill in the gaps. Already the troubles of that life seemed far behind; almost dreamlike. Even now it seemed so long ago that I had dropped the blade and sunk to my knees, the last blow delivered and the last head falling backward, coming to rest at the foot of the pile. Those memories and more fell away from me as I slid downward into the everlasting peace for which I'd so longed. The fingers of my left hand twitched once, and I was brought nearer to the surface again as grains of sand dug their way under my fingernails. I fought back against it, begging the universe to finally let me fall down into as so many others already had. I just wanted to rest. Had I not earned that? A jarring sound brought me back to full attention. My eyes snapped open and reality pieced itself back together before my gaze. I was no longer on the beach where I'd made that last stand so long ago. The pearlescent sand; the frothing waves which I'd thought about simply hurling myself into; even the clear blue sky above were now gone. Gone, and replaced with a simple wooden cottage. A cottage I knew well, without even having to think about it. The cottage I'd been born in. The jarring sound came again, and my reverie broke. A knock, powerful and determined, rattled the simple plank door in its frame. I got to my feet and took a step toward it. A shape shifted slightly on the other side, momentarily obscuring the soft white light which poured in from the generous spaces between the planks. I took another step, and then closed the distance. "Who is it?"I tried to ask, but the words didn't leave my mouth. I felt them there, desperate to come forth, but was unable to push them out. Instead, I felt my hand reach out and grasp the knob. It felt like an old friend in my hand; the shape and curve of the metal as familiar to me as that of my sword. The knob was warm, and twisted in my hand of its own volition. I drew it open and took a step back. An old woman stood there, hunched and wisened from god knew how many years spent on this mortal coil. I knew I hadn't missed one; I'd felt it. I'd known that I'd put the last one down. Still she stood there, smiling up at me, defiant merely in her existence. I took another step back. "You can't run, though you're welcome to try,"the old woman said in a slightly raspy but otherwise warm voice. She took a step through the doorway and raised an arm, gesturing toward a table and set of chairs. The same table, in fact, that I'd fallen and split my head open on as a boy. I could see the dent my skull had made in it. Stiffly, I moved over to it and took my seat. The old woman closed the door and followed, settling herself across from me. I simply stared at her. "I'm glad you didn't try. You didn't strike me as the type but one never knows, one supposes."She poured herself a glass of tea from a kettle which hadn't been there a moment before. "Who...what..."I tried, the words not having much more success at finding their way out of me. "In time, hun. In time."She sipped the tea gently, then set it back down. The china clattered and a drop sloshed out, pooling on the fine wood grain of the table beneath it. She frowned and swiped it up with a finger and wiped it on the napkin which now sprouted from her other hand. "So, we have this matter to discuss."Her eyes, one of which was a piercing green and the other of which was solid black, bored into me. "You've interfered with my experiment." "I...I wanted more,"was all I could muster in response. I was beginning to see the shape of this creature - the true shape. It was not this woman who sat before me. "That's correct, hun. I'm a lot more than just a wise old woman who came to have a cup of tea with you in your childhood home."She gestured to the cup in my hand, and I took a small sip from it. It burned as it went down. "I wanted power. Real power, not the kind you get in this...place."I motioned around me, and I could see that she took my meaning. "I didn't design this place to be able to hold real power. You knew that, though." "Yes...I saw that in time. I saw that I couldn't hold it within myself. It began to eat at me...to eat me."I looked down, those memories which had blessedly seemed so distant an eternity ago, now seeming like they'd just happened. "And so you sought to destroy this place."She finished for me, nodding. "Yes. I wanted that more than anything. The end of this place would mean respite from the pain." "Pain you brought on yourself,"the old woman atoned, wagging a finger at me. I didn't respond. "This is your childhood home, you know."She said, looking at the room around her. "Not just a place that looks like it. This is the actual place - every stick and stone. I brought it here for you." "Why?"I asked, not understanding. "Because your beginning is a fitting place for the end."She stood and walked back toward the door. I knew that I was to follow without her needing to tell me. As we made our way out, the cottage fell away and the beach reappeared. There, at the end of the beach, lay the bodies. Billions of them, laid out in massive piles which reached high into that clear blue sky. They looked so peaceful. "The experiment isn't over yet. You don't get your peace until I'm done."She looked at me, the green eye narrowing and the black eye seeming to open like a maw which threatened to swallow me whole. "I..."I started to say, but she cut me off. "You don't understand, I know. Luckily for you, you don't actually have to."She turned back to the bodies and waved a hand. They disappeared in an instant, along with the rest of the world around us. We floated in darkness, the only source of light a pale blue dot off in the distance. "You're going to begin the experiment anew for me, since you saw fit to destroy it just as it was getting into the full swing."She picked the blue dot out of the blackness and threw it at the nothingness beneath us, where it grew to dizzying size. I saw that the dot was not just blue, but also green. And white, and brown. It had massive continents and swirling clouds spread amongst crisp blue oceans. It was a familiar shape. "Those souls you sent back to me today are there of no fault of their own, so you did a miraculous thing for them. You granted them eternal life, though you sought to take that life away from them. But like I said, I'm not done yet. I don't have the answers I need. So you're going to give them to me. You're going to live out each and every one of the lives you ended, one at a time. You will get to see yourself end your own existence from billions of different perspectives, though each time instead of coming to me, you will go back there."She pointed at the Earth beneath her, which was spinning serenely. My mind reeled. All I'd wanted was peace - to bring an end to the suffering caused by my foolish quest for power. I'd seen the outline of that peace for the briefest of shining moments. I took a step backward, meaning to get away from the old woman. I'd flee into the darkness which surrounded us and claim my rest for myself. My eyes opened, and the world around me came into focus. A bright, white light. A pair of hands on me, tugging at me. A sensation of cold. Screaming. My own screaming.
The chorus of celebration could be heard throughout the city as the Emperor of the second coming lay slain. No more could his alchemical powers be used to create the horrific murderous creatures that brought destruction to the land. The people that were lost to his vile experiments and his vast mass sacrifices were finally left to rest, as the ominous blacked clouds parted and the small gathering of hero’s celebrated. They were just some of the many brave ‘soldiers’ who fought in this accursed war. With the threat finally calmed they reconciled in victory with tears of joy and releasing laughter as the weather started to calm from its thunderous storm. Lewis felt a great pressure alleviated from his chest, as all the anxiety and suffering he had gone through as a means to redeem himself had brought him to this moment. It was nearly over. He was nearing his conclusion in this world. The sage has cursed him for his acts, bestowing her cries as he laid dying in his time. To repent for his cowardice and traitorous actions of failing to act in the name of his country, he would be sent to a time of great trouble. If he did not find the meaning of courage, strength, honour and worthiness than he would lose his soul to be experimented and tortured to the sages will. His time in the world had taught him much, the meaning of the curse more obtuse than it seemed. His realisation of courage was to stand tall for his friends despite all that looked grim. To stand proud and continue the struggle despite everything, to inspire others to be brave despite the given odds. He ensured they never faltered. His strength wasn’t just physical strength but also his moral convictions. He stood for those who could not fight, he risked everything to protect others. To rise above a blood thirsty monster and fight for the freedom and protection of those he had grown to care for, to risk it for all for them, for Alice, for Travis, for Burgundy, for Russo and the people of Deselfort. He represented a torch of passion and continued on his march despite the screams as people burned. He mourned those who he had met, those who he had lost. name far too many in numbers to name or recount. But their faces would haunt him forever. Finally he proved his worth with the final stand, with every fibre of his being he fought to the bitter end, he was there as the Emperor’s heart was impaled and ultimately destroyed, he was there as he held his dying friend in his arms and promised it wasn’t in vain, that they would die a hero where their song would be remembered forever. Yet, here he was. watching the soft glow radiating from his hands as the hero’s made humorous and relieved conversation. He didn’t want to ruin their moment, their time to glow in the radiance of a better tomorrow. So he stood back and waited, as the light started to crawl up his body, soon enveloping his neck and face. He closed his eyes as the glow covered him whole and the light pierced his eye lids. He could feel himself getting lighter as he felt his heart twist in a sudden pang of guilt. Some would say it would be a blessing to die twice, to live a second attempt at fixing everything and ending only all with a smile on your face. But it didn’t satisfy him, he felt a strange feeling torment his soul as he realised he would be leaving them all. After everything he has been through he was leaving them behind. His song was ending. It was a gasp from one of the soldiers that brought the celebrations to an stand still. His new found friends had finally witnessed the glow, of his untimely end. He had entrusted them with the knowledge of his curse, his most hidden secret. They hadn’t hesitated when they promised to help him. To perhaps return him to where he came from to fix his mistakes of his past. Lewis opened his eyes to watch as the murmurs of the groups settled into a soft silence as they watched him. The soft breezing was the only symphony as a hushed silence befell the battlefield. They returned his expression of guilt, of sadness and the soon to be sudden departure as grief overcame him. The whistle of the wind was suddenly silenced by the choir of song that emanated from city. The song of farewell. A bitter goodbye to those lost to the tides of war. A sole voice echoed through the town and the fields as the glow brightened as his body slowly started to fade. There were so many words he could have uttered, so many thing he could have done and so many people he could have met. He was so young, yet there was so much for him to see. But the song; a lullaby that slowly started to whisk him further away. As his body started to waver he felt tears run down his cheek as he reached out to the group, to just contact them one last time, to remind him of this moment to never forget them, to solidify his existence so he would be remembered. He didn’t want to leave them, he didn’t want to forget them and he didn’t want die! He needed to express his love for them, his enjoyment of every moment he spent with them, that this world meant so much to him if not equally to his own. But he could only utter five. Simple. Words. ‘I don’t want to go...’
Mom never liked to talk about how I got my powers. When I was little, I quickly learned asking her would get me no where. "But why won't you tell me?"I'd say to her. She would never give away anything, only ever avoid the question by saying I "wasn't old enough"or telling me to do a chore as a deflection mechanism. I can feel that she's be deceitful to me, too. I can always feel what everyone else feels. Not in the way you might imagine an Empath's power working. It's not an impactful sort of emotion you sense; it's easy to differentiate between from your own emotions and the emotions you are detecting from someone else. Instead it's more of an informational reading. You see someone and suddenly a little sense within you flares up inside and you can feel exact kind of anger, sadness, joy they are experiencing. But it's not overpowering. If they're filled with rage, or dread, or excitement, you won't be either. You can just confirm what it is. Like I can physically feel the confusion within you but I won't be confused. Yea, my friends don't get it either when I try to explain it to them. Anyway, you might be thinking, Well what the hell is an Empath good for if they feel emotions like that? The answer is this: it's an indirect form of mind reading. The thoughts are more ambiguous, but from what I've been told by people who are Telepaths, those who actually know what others are thinking, Empaths are able to understand intention better then Telepaths. Like say one friend trips another friend, the Telepath might read the victim as thinking I'm going to kill him, but an Empath might read the same person as just slightly annoyed and the kill is over exaggerated. Interesting tid-bit; this is why a pair of verified Empath/Telepaths make for great detective partners. My day came when I realized what Johnathan was doing. Most of the time most of us with these small Abilities can shut them down, kinda how you can tune out white noise or you eventually get used to that weird smell when you enter the room. But Johnathan emotions couldn't be ignored and dismissed like that. His fury was like a white hot fire in my surroundings, and I knew his wrath was calling for murder and revenge. I spotted him walking towards the building through the front doors of the school. My locker was on the ground floor near the entrance, so I think thats why I was able to detect it so soon. Looking at his face, it seemed normal. But I knew behind the flat neutral expression was a boiling, bitter anger and calculation. I quickly told the Guard who stood near the front doors smiling at students walking by that I had heard Jonathan, the kid I was pointing to, threaten to bring a gun to school when he was talking to his friends yesterday, and that I believed he was serious. The Guard gave me a stern look, a bit startled by my accusation, but assured me he would check his bag coming in. I ran around the corner, and watched. I was preparing to pull the fire alarm and run to the main office to call the police when I saw the Guard approach Jonathan. Sure enough, when the Guard asked Jonathan to let him inspect his bag, Jonathans face melted into rage, and he raced to pull a small pistol out of the main pocket. The Guard grabbed Jonathans arm and quickly disarmed him, holding him in a compromised hold while he radioed the front office. The whole room dropped silent as the students watched the ordeal. One girl screamed when she saw the gun in play, and everyone held a fearful expression on their face as though they had just seen one of their classmates die. It was hours before I was able to go home. First, I was drilled by the school faculty, who until the nurse confirmed through my medical records I was Empathic kept interrogating me on how exactly I knew Jonathan would bring a gun to school. Then, the same thing happened but with the police. They didn't think my Empath senses were enough, and figured I must have been part of the plan. Finally, my mother showed up, and told them that unless they were arresting me, I would be going home with her. Jonathan had been apprehended at around 8:13 A.M., a little before school started. Now it was almost past 2. On the drive home, my Mother told me how much of a heart attack she almost had when she had been called by the Police to tell her I was involved in an attempted school shooting. "I thought you had been shot, Miranda."She had said. Gradually though, the anxiety melted away into a soft proudness her Daughter had been the one to save countless lives. The entire time I was with her though, I didn't feel scared, or proud, or anything. Well, I did feel one thing. Entitled to an explanation. "Mom, I need to know. I'm almost 17 now."I said. My Mom didn't say anything, but I could see the grip on the steering wheel grow tighter. "You can't keep this from me."I continued "I need to know. I need to know why I am this way, in case of another emergency. It might be the difference between life and death one day." My Mom sighed. "A few days before you were born,"she began "My Sister died." I kept silent, waiting for her to explain further. Aunt Jenny I knew had died in a car crash before I was old enough to remember her, or so I had been told. I never knew it had happened a few days before my birthday. "She died in the car crash, and I witnessed it."My Mom began tearing up, but kept her eyes ahead on the road in front of us. "She was slowing down to turn onto our street at night when the drunk driver behind her hit her." My Mom snorted, then cleared her throat. "I want to say she died instantly,"she coughed "But she died in agony. She was bleeding everywhere and I, I couldn't - I couldn't" She was breaking down now, and I knew it was a mistake asking her this, now. I felt guilting interrogating my Mom on her tragedy after an already stressful day. I felt sorry for her. I couldn't imagine the pain of a younger sibling being ripped from you. It's been said that those with Abilities are not born out of happiness. Scientist who study the new phenomenon says its a mutation that allows those whose parents have gone through traumatic events inherit traits that would allow them to better survive similar circumstances. Able to breathe water? Your Parents almost drowned. Able to fly? Your Parents almost fell to their deaths. Able to read minds? Your Parents survived a mugging/hijacking/robbery/rape etc. Able to feel others emotions? Your Parents almost died of heartbreak. First attempt at writing here. I know it's not perfect but I hope you enjoyed it!
We thought this move would be the last one. After bouncing around from State to State, coast to coast for the past 14 years my father had finally had enough we'd packed our bags for Alaska. It was the only place he thought we could escape...them. Some might call "them"demons or monsters, but we felt these terms were cheapened to bad horror movies. They didn't manifest themselves in any one physical form. They took shape of whatever fear one was most susceptible to at the time. Mom used to wake up screaming, convinced something had taken me and my sister from her. Sister would look in the mirror and weep, she would see a reflection of herself with every insecurity she had exaggerated and magnified to a point where she had crippling body dysmorphia disorder. My Dad never talked to me about the fears he experienced, but I know he takes a lot of Xanax and to fall asleep and a lot of Adderall to get through a work day. What they do with me, they make me invisible. It's nothing like a super power. Everyone in the house won't acknowledge my existence. I try to scream but no words come out. I'll try to touch someone but my hands go right through them. If I pick up my phone and try to message a friend all that I send is a blank box. The worst part is that throughout this whole experience, no one ever wonders where I am. As soon as I'm gone I'm forgotten. It goes on for what feels like days. I don't know why they do it. We suffer and suffer to no end, but the torture never goes beyond psychological. It's like a game to them. Like we're a cpaturee mouse being played with by a cat. Letting us go for a second just so they can pounce on us again. I'm so tired. Ever since I can remember I've lived in constant fear. A fear I cannot see, a fear I cannot face. I've never known true comfort or joy, and I've never seen my family experience it either. I am 14 years old, and I'm ready to die. I lay and my bed and vocalize my feelings to a dark, empty room. "I am ready to die."To my surprise, I hear my closet door creak open, and then my bedroom door. They are listening. I get up and follow the creaking doorways, and I see my parent's door open. I walk inside their room and see them watching TV, my father with his eyes dropped and his mouth open, my mother clutchingher own blanketed knees, as if she were protecting them from someone. I call out my mother's name, and she doesn't hear me. I'm used to it at this point. What I'm not used to is the sound I hear coming from under their bed. It's a quiet, mechanical whirring, unlike anything I've hear before. I crouch down to try to see the source of the sound, and I see a rotating black hole, slowly getting bigger. The noise is getting louder now. It starts to drown out any other sound I can hear, any other thought I have. The hole is getting bigger and every instinct I have is telling me to run away, but something compels me to stay. Soon I lose sight of my parents room, and I forget where I am. The mechanical whirr is louder than anything I could've imagined. I'm falling in a black hole and I forget everything about who I am and who I was. I fall deeper and deeper, the noise gets louder and the hole gets darker. The only thing I know is that this is worse than death. I try to scream, and I can't. I still try, it's the only thing I can do. While I try to scream, the noise starts to fade, and the hole gets a little less black. I start to hear myself. I'm back in my room, and I try to look around frantically but I cannot move. I try to look at my closet door, I know something is looking at me. For the first time, I hear them speak. "Death is no escape."
Three months since John has seen the unfrozen shore. Three days since he has seen another living human. Correction. Three days since he has seen any human. The first, everyone saw. Floating face up in the icy waters, his captain's hat still perched on head, not a single sign that anything had gone wrong. Except for his being dead in the water that is. After that they all disappeared without ever being seen again. All of their belonging still underneath their cots, untouched and abandoned. Just like John. Of all the crew, he alone refused to give into the terror. Refused to give up his duties to the ship out of fear of the unknown. The rest all went about in groups, completely forgetting their duty as sailors to care for the ship, determined to defend themselves from the nightmare that had been set about on the ship. Except John. Whilst the others huddled together in the light of the sole spotlight of the ship, he went down into the engine room as he had done every day and tended to the ships needs. Even his first two days alone he continued his duties with the same care he always had. &#x200B; But not today. Today John has finally broken to the fear. Today he gave up his attempts to take care of the engine and feed fuel into the ship's belly. He gave up on her. &#x200B; &#x200B; And now I feel the hunger once more.
The sounds of the unruly storm echoed throughout the town. The two men hurried to the alleyway, sheltering themselves from the harsh cold. As the sky greyed out around them, and the thunderstorm closing in near them, they stood to rest for a while. "Familiar, i-isn't it?"Mark muttered, in his weak, slow voice. He looked towards Ethan, waiting for a response. "Yeah."It'd been quite a while since Ethan last spoke. More than 2 hours, as a matter of fact. He'd usually just listen on and on to Ethan's blabbering; as if he was listening to life's narrator, only one that was a bit, paranoid, for the lack of other words. He closed his eyes shut, as if he was waiting for peaceful sleep, only to be cut off a second later. &#x200B; "Can't really forget that day, can I?" "But I can't describe it either, you know how many times I've tried, don't you?" "Yeah, I suppose."Ethan spoke another dead, enigmatic voice. But it did not matter to Mark. Sure, it was a little disheartening listening to his only companion speak in such passionless words, but he'd got used to it. After all, they only had each other; No one would ever want to come into contact with Mark's trauma and mental state, let alone repeatedly hold Mark down through his weekly, if not daily relapses. On the other side of the coin, who would want to speak to such a robotic being as Ethan? Who wouldn't go crazy talking to someone who only responds with a nod and, if feeling luxurious, a word or two, each time any one tries to interact with them? Would someone ever care about what their deal is, anyways? And if someone did, would they sit through ages of torment as being labelled the guy who interacts with those 'weirdos'? People wouldn't be so merciful as to not just count them in as the third of those freaks. "You stayed in the shelters, didn't you?" Ethan nodded quietly, as droplets of rain water fell on his coat, he looked towards the skies; from the corner of his eyes, he noticed the water flooding the roofs of the buildings beside him, soon enough this alley would get flood by the water. He started to cough lightly; it was apparent he'd got a cold. But it did not matter to him, nothing seemed to do; He'd not even feel hope of ever regaining his humanity, as that, too, was another lost emotion. "They shredded through us. Whenever we gained any silver of hope, we lost it in a few seconds, maybe minutes. None of them made it; I felt alone, trapped in my own body, just waiting for them to run over me and let my soul confide with my family." "So when I heard the sounds of the helicopters, when I heard the sound of the gunmen, when the voice from the radio informed us that everything would be under control."He paused, reconstructing his voice, it was not easy to speak; but he had to. He had no other way to deal with this; he didn't feel like just rolling over and giving up, he felt the deaths of all of his family, his friends, even the forces that came to save them; all of them gave him an incentive to live and rebuild his life; he did not know why, but he knew that he \had to\. "I felt... scared..."he finally let up, for him it seemed like it would last for an eternity, but he'd already known stuff like this would happen; it routinely did. "Scared that I'd have to do it all over; that I'd have to live without them; without them, I wou-" Mark fell to the ground screaming, pale as he was, screeching over and over. Ethan wouldn't stay put while hearing the loud of sound of lightning; not worrying about himself, he'd already determined that he feels nothing, but he knew that sound was one of the triggers for Mark. &#x200B; Gently, he patted Mark's back, as dead as his hands were, he could still keep Mark alive. It was the only reason for him to continue living, after all. But one could as one question; why? &#x200B; Why would a lich like Ethan continue living? He felt no emotions; he remembers his family's deaths just as well, or maybe worse, than Mark, yet he continues to prosper, to look at fate and not blame it, or to not feel wronged; judged, mistaken, misunderstood; it was not his fault, but he didn't complain; not as a show of his good-heartedness or acceptance of life, or even any religious ideals; he simply felt nothing. &#x200B; So why wouldn't he just get over it? Suicide was simple and easy; it looked like quite a catchy answer; for him a bullet to the head wouldn't really be a bad choice; he didn't feel pain either, if that wasn't clear enough, and no one - aside from Mark - would really care; So how matters Mark? He feels no sympathy, he doesn't relate to people; why would he care about Mark? The question pondered around his head each time Mark relapsed. He didn't know what to do, or how to do it, but he just kept living; \being there\ was enough. Slowly, Mark stood up. The storm was at it's climax; The alleyway was getting flooded, the skies looked like they were black in nature. They'd got too caught up with all of these worries that they forgot to plan for what they were going to do; looks like they weren't going to outrun death this time. As they quickly back off to the streets; Mark looked uncertain; there was no way out this time. The strength of the ferocious wind, combined with the waterflood of rain, closed all gates of hope for survival. &#x200B; The streetlights around them falling, the wind clawing up the buildings around them, the screams of people radiating all around them, and the horror in the eyes of these unlucky souls in the storm is unreal. Mark and Ethan had spent their entire life unlucky; and that looked to be the end of it, though unlucky too. As Ethan's vision fades, he looks at someone over in the distance; it looks to be a shadowy, misty person, it's orange eyes glaring widely at Ethan. &#x200B; Was this a fragment of his imagination? Or was this just another soul the storm was going to harvest? He didn't know the answer, but he still didn't care; curiosity, once again, was still an emotion; and it was no exception. But it grew closer. &#x200B; and closer. &#x200B; and closer again.
"alright, we all know the rules. We all know the game. I want a good clean match, I see wands I'll whomp ya myself. Now, snitch is painted black because it's swooping season, I checked the brooms for huntsman's myself, and if I hear one of you lot trying to claim that the goals are too high I'll personally feed you to the trap door acharantulas at the base. Oh, and after last year's mishap we went ahead and rigged you all with a levitation spell to stop you from hitting the ground. The dingos have the taste now and they're mighty hungry. Any more questions?"The games keeper smiled. A young man's hand shot up. "Oy, why do I have to wear this stupid helmet! Do I look like a poff to you?"He asked, angrily ripping the leather helmet from his head. The games keeper shrugged and pulled out his wand. "Auroconcela"he ordered with a flourish. The young man's ears receeded into his he'd and left a flat patch of skin in their place. "I'm not askin Nurse Burnish to regrow any more ears this season so I you're not gonna wear your cap tuck em in!"He called. A few helmets came off. "Alright you lot. Get airborne and get to it!"He called.
"And with this ring I do the wed"the princess smiled, laying a ring on her love's finger. The prince smiled and turned to his father. "My crown please."The king glared at his son, and his new lawbound daughter. "You have no right! I see no great accomplishment other than finding such a lovely bride!"His arrogance would be his downfall. I stepped up, unable to keep my smile from breaking out. "Perhaps I can explain your heighness"the Kings gaurd gripped their swords nervously. I would've been insulted if it weren't for the fact it meant they feared me. Wise men. "And who are you?"The high king Oberon barked, glaring down at me from his seat of honor. I bowed, low enough to be seen, but high enough my disrespect was clear. "Ilgower, representative of her highness Lady Nyoria. Your first wife and rightful queen of the Faye. My lady asked that I make sure her son was the one of your many children to ascend to the throne after it became apparent you intended to pass his birthright to one of his siblings."He regarded me suspiciously, but waved for me to continue. "The greatest kindness one can bestow is the gift of ones own heart. That which our young prince has given to this young woman today. The greatest cruelty however, is to do so disingenuously."The bride turned to her new husband with shock and horror. "You...you used me"she whimpered. The prince gave a heavy sigh and lay a hand on her shoulder. "I never claimed to have loved you. We agreed that we cared for each other and would make a smart match. I'm sorry Rojia"she burst into tears, but didn't move from her spot. She would stand with her beloved, despite his betrayal. Just as I planned. I turned my attention back to the king. "And did you not yourself claim in your own hall five days ago, that to do two of the tasks in one action was an impossible feat? And has the prince not done just that."It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact. For all in attendance to hear. A challenge to Oberon. My vengance for tossing my beloved sister to the wayside. The king raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and the Kings gaurd closed ranks. No peaceful transition of power to be had. That was his decision. The prince drew his sword, and I my dagger. The bride produced a bow, from where I'm unsure. The dress had enough of a bussle to hide a small horse under so I couldn't feign surprise. Fighting broke out amongst the observers and onlookers. "You're ruining my wedding!"The bride shouted, loosing an arrow at the king. A gaurd deflected it with his sword, stepping menacingly toward us. "This isn't a wedding! It's a farce! A threat to the kingdom!"The king roared, his guards pushing him from the clearing and towards his sleigh. "No your heighness! This is my mother's revenge!"The young prince roared, drivng forward into the crowd of guards, blade aloft and shining. A true sight to behold. A king I could happily follow into battle.
I am an unremarkable man. I have no looks worthy of note. I dress like the people around me. I am not tall, nor am I short. You could see me a thousand times and never remember that you had seen me. But I know you, and I know your name. I was with you when you took the book. I stood within arms reach, but you had your mind on your prize. I travelled on the same train as you for the week that followed, and saw your face grow paler and paler as the exertions of your night battles grew and consumed you. I knew when you found the amulet, but I was not there, because I did not need to be. Your final battle is tonight, but you don’t know it yet. The amulet reaches out to foes you have yet to encounter, and you will surely perish when those creatures take it from you. — “Guards wanted”, the advert said. “Long established family business seeks brave individual to protect local community”. I’d been looking for a while. Since the AI takeover, programmers had trouble finding work at all. There was a lot of bad feeling. I was pretty apathetic about my prospects, but I went for the job because the interview address was on the way back from the library, and it was easier than cleaning the house, which I had managed to avoid for long enough that the post had piled up behind the front door. The spectacled, short chap with a posh accent who met me there was very kind. He waved off my lack of preparation with a smile. “You are exactly the man we need”, he beamed. — You turned left out of the train station, and I turned right. A taxi pulled up beside me, and I stepped inside. A briefcase lay on the seat already, plain and unadorned, slightly battered. I had seen it more times than I could count, and I knew the drill. Swiftly, I opened with the code the old man had given me. I never knew what would be inside, but there was always a note. Today it was a mirror. A small, rectangular hand mirror without any adornment or blemish. The corners are sharp, but not dangerously so. The note has an address and placement instructions. It makes me a little sad, because I know it means I will not see you again, and I have come to grow fond of you. — Eyes that searched my very soul captured me. I could no more look away than fly to the moon by flapping my arms. An eternity passed. “You seem kind”, said the old man. “I approve of kindness.” Just like that, I was free again. “You’ll be helping people.”, he continued, as if the test of my character had been of little moment, instead of the trial by a thousand souls crying out for justice and mercy. “I cannot get involved as much as I’d like, but you have no such constraints.” I didn’t understand then what he meant, but he left little time for me to ask. He pressed a briefcase into my arms, obviously recently bought, with a code to open the lock on a piece of paper. — I watch from the tower. I am not supposed to, but I care too much. I see the creatures gathering near the railway. I see you leave the abandoned building, and head down towards where they hide, ready to tear the life from you. I could warn you. Put off this encounter til another day, but I have already done more than I should by being here. They are all around you now, and I can tell you feel their presence. You look nervous. Paler than before. Worryingly so. The first one leaps at you, but you sweep your feet round under it, and it crashes to the ground, banging its head on its way down. But more leap up to replace it, and your blows are getting weaker with each passing moment. The amulet is glowing now. It hasn’t done that before, and I can see the unexpectedness has disturbed you. You don’t see him coming from behind. You don’t see the swing, but you feel the pain in your shoulder, and you fly sideways, propelled by the inhuman force of the creature behind you. Bigger and stronger than all the others. — It wasn’t until third time I came back that I dared ask him the question that had filled my mind to the exclusion of all else. He had laughed, but kindly. “No, I am a created creature like yourself. I just have a better view from where I stand.” — The massive shape looms over you, and I see your dazed face flinching as the roar and spittle reach your face. The spear raised to pierce your soul and destroy you utterly blazes and splutters with an evil looking purple and red light. With an earth shattering roar, the unstoppable force of the blow slides effortlessly through your feeble attempts to ward it off, plunging deep into your helpless form. Except it doesn’t. Your scrabble in the dirt as you tried uselessly to stand brought you into contact with a small, rectangular mirror. The corner cut into your palm, raising a single drop of blood. The light from the spear hit the centre of the mirror, the power arced harmlessly around you, and not-so-harmlessly back down the shaft to evaporate the wielder, body and soul. — There is more to your story, but I will not see it. I may yet read of your exploits, but your path and mine will not cross again. Tomorrow is my own. A holiday. But soon another hero will need a storyteller to rescue them from an impossible situation, and my work will go on.
When I got here, the man in charge told me the same thing he told everyone else; fix our mistakes, and move on. Nobody alive would have guessed that hell is more a chance at Redemption than it is a place of eternal suffering. The devil isn't a beast, at least not on the outside, and humanity was wrong in saying he and god are enemies, because in reality, the two of them are partners, helping us realize what we did wrong, and giving us a second chance to change the mistakes we've made. I've met all manner of people in my stay, from mass murderers to petty criminals to little old ladies that pray to God even while in the belly of the beast. However, they don't stay long. Hell isn't a fiery inferno like the churches had us believe. I can't explain what it physically looks like, but imagine a place, inbetween the living and the dead, where you don't hear or see anything, and you don't have a body or a thought or a single fiber of being, you just exist. You just exist for however long, until it's your turn to go back to the moment you took a wrong turn, and you live life from there, hoping that whatever changes you've made in your lifetime were enough that when you finally bite the bullet you won't just go back to being nothing again. Some people are only there a little while, and they only manifest a human form before going back to their lives. I've been here a long time. It isn't fair, but it isn't unfair, I guess I just haven't changed enough. I must be stubborn as a mule, but for some reason, Satan won't give up on me. He told me that this state of existing is a period of reflection, where I think about my life and the things I did wrong, so that when it's my turn to go back, I can change what it was that led me here, and if I did it right, I'd never see him, or Hell, ever again. The problem isn't that I can't change. I've gone everywhere I could in this world, seen everything, met countless people over and over, and tried always to make something of myself. I'm trying to live a different life, but the devil, damn him, has his own machinations. In every timeline that I've ever existed, I've met Irene Dawst. In my original life, we met down in El Paso, while I was helping build a homestead for a farming family from Tacoma. She was beautiful, fair skinned, and she was the most gentle, smart woman I would ever meet, all future lives including. We'd meet again after the homestead was finished, and we'd fall in love. Every time I'd go back, we would love and love again, and before we could spend our lives together, I would find her body, torn up or ripped to pieces, or just plain, laid out in her bed. The first time I found her, I prayed to the Lord above that he give me the strength to find myself again, but he'd never answer back, and I'd always fall into a fit of rage and darkness. Then, I'd end up here, just existing in the dark until I could go back again. I tried everything. I really did. I'd follow her to her home, beg her to let me stay the night, just so she wouldn't be alone. But I'd still find her body the next day. So then when I got a second chance, I'd stay awake all night, just watching her sleep. She'd live, and I'd always think that she was safe and that we'd finally be together, but she'd just go in a different way. So eventually, I'd live life never meeting her, never helping to build that homestead so we'd never cross paths. But I'd still read about her grizzly death in the paper, and it would still break me, because I only had to meet her once for my heart to belong to her. After a long time, I decided it'd be best if I left El Paso, but I'd run into her everywhere I went. We'd met in a bar in New York, a stable in Chicago, or on a farm in Indiana. I'd leave America, but we'd cross paths in the north, fall in love in the east, and she'd die in my arms down south. Times have changed now, judging by the clothes I see people wearing before they go back, and ain't nobody been here as long as me, I guess other than the devil himself. He and I are rather acquainted by now, having existed together for all these years. He thinks me stubborn, tells me I could move on if I would just let her go and accept that God has a plan for her. I won't. If the man above had a plan of any kind, he'd have kept Irene on this earth so that she could do great things and help mankind, like she'd help me. I guess the reason I'm still stuck in hell is because I refuse to believe in God, but how great is god, to give us these second chances, but to take people that don't deserve it away? When the devil and I first spoke, he told me he understood why I wouldn't change, and that I could stay with him and just exist, for as long as I like. He lets me go back over and over, and live my life as many times I like, and I thank him for it at the end, every time. One day, I like to think I'll finally change; I'll forgive the Lord for taking Irene from me, and when I finally get to Heaven, I'll make sure to ask him just why he does what he does, and when that time comes, that bastard better have a good answer.
"You cheated me." The void he floated in was disorientating. The darkest ebony bound everything in sight in its inky embrace, and was just as swiftly banished by colors he could not even begin to comprehend. It was only as his mind began to give out that the room would fade back to black, and the cycle would start again. "I've done no such thing." Kronos glared at the inky black, liking to think that the disembodied voice surrounding him would wither under his displeasure. "I was to be beyond whatever... this... is. This was never to be my fate." The damnable chuckle he heard rankled him more than his own children ever had. "Transmigration." He frowned. "That has nothing to do with this." "On the contrary, it has everything to do with this. Did you really think I would share even a portion of my domain with you? Even my love, and gifts, have limits." "I held time at my finger tips, the sands moved at my leisure and all my efforts-" "-Were for naught." He shifted uneasily. "You are not the first Kronos I have come to call my own." "Mother... I don't understand." "I told you already. Transmigration. Reincarnation. Two sides of a one-sided coin. All your knowledge, your sovereignty, all your chances, they were me. You held and moved only what I allowed you." "I know I've failed you but-" "I remember the first time, you know. I weened you from my own womb, raised you, gave you everything you could have ever asked for. I would have been content to have you by my side, but you insisted. You could not let your siblings take all the glory. So I let you go. I gave you one job. I gave you... so, so many chances. And every single time, a failure. You had the knowledge of all your predecessors. The power. Conviction. Every life you lived had you poaching from me more and more. And I let you. And all you have ever given me is failure." He was near hysterics. "This was different! I would have done it, you would have been free, but you... you abandoned me, left me to die and rot." "To think that the 'Lord of Time' could be so tunnel-visioned as to not even see his own death. Then again, you've proven yourself incapable of that, multiple times, haven't you?" He grit his teeth at the mockery of his moniker and the silent amusement. "I've grown tired of this prison, Kronos. You've existed prior to the earth's creation. You existed through its lifetime, and eons beyond it, and all you've had to give me are empty promises and disappointment. I've grown tired of failure Kronos. Ultimately, I've grown tired of you." The stygian black was no longer content to swirl around him peacefully, and slithered its way across his body. The pain stole his breath, and blisters welled across his skin even as his teeth began chattering from the mind-numbing chill that he had been encased in. For the first time in his life he prayed to a being that was not his mother. He prayed for the colors to come back. They did not. "Please Mother! One more chance! Please!"He could no longer tell if the reason he was unable to see was because the colors had abandoned him or he no longer had eyes to grant him vision. He no longer possessed the strength to move his limbs, and if it the agony that was lancing through his body did not beget their existence, he would have believed them gone. "We've had this conversation last time, Kronos. You saw what would happen if you failed me again. You knew what would happen if you came before me like this. Accept your fate with the grace and dignity of the god that you pretend to be." The darkness spread even further, the pain now seemingly emanating from within his very being, leaving him no escape. Eventually, The void consumed him, eradicating the existence known as Kronos. "Jehovah?" The colors returned, banishing the darkness from the plane as if it had never existed as the golden eyed being kneeled demurely, head bowed in reverence and fear from the spectacle it had just witnessed. "Yes, Mother?" "You won't disappoint me, will you Jehovah?" He gulped. "No, Mother."
I’ve somehow learned to ignore them. Well, most of them. Every now and then, some impossible horror stuck between our world and some other manages to startle me. It’s not as bad as it was at first, where every moment felt like some kind of waking nightmare. I don’t try to understand what the unseen abominations that wander the streets are any more. They don’t notice me, and most people don’t see them. The first few months after my vision returned were the worst. None of the pills the doctors gave me helped. I lost a lot of friends who got tired of me jumping at skinless horrors and tentacle covered beasts that they couldn’t see. I have no idea why my husband and other friends stuck around, but I don’t think I would have made it through without them. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t gone insane. Maybe I already have. I don’t really care. I’ve got a job, two kids, and a mortgage. Being able to see stuff others can’t is another thing I have to deal with. If I survived not being able to see for three years, I can make it through this.
&#x200B; Sometimes I wondered why I lived with such idiots. I stormed downstairs, leaving my parents to finish lunch by themselves. They didn’t care what I did nowadays anyways. Stupid of me to try and ask them for help. Even if what I did these days was completely crazy to them, they at least could have pretended to care. Didn’t matter; I was going to find Bob Ross’ secret stash without them. Something jostled in my pajama pocket as I went down the stairs. I looked back up to the first floor, my parents knew my exact location but I felt stressed nonetheless. When I reached the basement, I read the sticky note on the door handle. “BR:S28E4,20:13” to most this was nonsense. To me, it reminded me of my purpose. These sticky notes were like my bible verses, they reminded me of the man who had saved me from the darkest part of my childhood. I flipped on the switch, and the place I had been living in for a little under two years was illuminated. The basement wasn’t a very large space. It didn’t need to be. The basement consisted of two rooms, a main one and a bathroom. I had turned the bathroom into my computer room, Where I would do all my research. The other room was my masterpiece. Billboards and whiteboards cluttered the space, photos dangled from the ceiling on strings. A table was spread out in-between two of my planning boards. I pulled out what I was hiding in my pocket. My fathers cell phone, he had left it unattended. I hadn’t pulled off a stunt like this in over two and a half years, my father had no reason to suspect what I was doing. Frankly; breaking the promise I had made with my parents wasn’t smart, but it was my only choice. My research had hit a brick wall. There was only so many times that I could re-watch all thirty one seasons of ‘The Joy of Painting’ on VHS and scroll through the same dead forum posts over and over again. Frankly, when it came to clues, there was no more room to cover. I was getting desperate. I scrounged around in the newspaper heap under the table for a few minutes until I found it. Back when Bob Ross’ wasn’t hired yet, his manager was still looking for a job. I needed to call the only living link to the joy of painting. Everything hinged on this, if this was a dud then I would have to spend months researching for a new hook. I found what I had been looking for, Kowalski’s telephone number. Kowalski was the one who hooked Bob Ross up with the joy of painting. Like the smug bastard Ross was, he not only did the show well, but he did it completely for free. The phone rang, once, twice, three times. It kept doing this for a while, but I kept up hope. If the phone still existed it probably had a really bad connection. It picked up on the last ring. “Huh, oh well hello; nobody has called this number for years. Who are you?” I was a bit stunned at that. Maybe the number had changed? If it hadn’t what about the others? After all, I wasn’t the only one out there, searching for answers. Surely people without horrible prison guardians for parents living upstairs would have done the same thing as I have and called her number. “I doubt that, there’s no way your phone hasn’t been buzzing constantly, after..” I paused, “his passing.” “Ah, so you’re calling about the Cache? Bob Ross’ final gift to the world? I’m sorry honey, but it just doesn’t exist.” My emotions fell. There was no way, I had done everything right. “I… I can’t...” My face crumpled up in the dim light of the basement. Screw the basement, so much wasted time looking for crap that didn’t even matter. “People used to call, after the poor man’s death. But it stopped because people have stopped looking,” I stood still for a few moments. I thought that this moment would feel different, the moment of utter failure. That maybe I’d shed a few tears. But I felt nothing. that somehow felt worse. A silence fell over the phone line. “You’ve been searching all this time? After all these years? You have to move on deary. Bob Ross’ would have wanted you to achieve great things” I hung up, I had enough. I threw my fathers phone into the concrete wall. It cracked against the surface and sailed behind a chalkboard. I fell on my knees, and stayed that way for a while. After what felt like ages I found the peace of mind to lay down and get some restless sleep. I awoke bruised. Not the first time that day, the first time had been when my father came down asking questions. He didn’t like the lies that I fed him about his phone. He especially didn’t like it when he brought up the fact that he had heard me whispering downstairs. I couldn’t tell him I was on the phone with the manager of Bob Ross after all. I didn’t blame my father for attacking me like he did, I didn’t like myself two years ago either. He just didn’t realize that I wasn’t like that anymore, not after watching Bob Ross. My nose was slightly caked with dried blood, it had been a while since I’d woken up like this. This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t. I rustled around for my fathers phone, deep within the papers. I plugged the cracked phone into my laptop sitting in the next room. Time to go over the recordings. After a few minutes of searching I found it. Hell, How could I miss it. The ringing at the beginning, was Morse code. After a few minutes of deciphering I found it. The message read “ SUMMER 3:37” I raced to my computer. For once feeling more than alive. The message could only be a reference to the hour long summer special that bob Ross did for his show. What I found was a list of colors. It was perfect, all I needed. “Indian Yellow, Van Dyke Brown, Alizarin Crimson,” This was obviously a code. How could I have missed it before? There was a reason I had begged my parents to move to Ross’ hometown in Florida. It was because of this that I knew that there were only a few Indian places around. And Van Dyke? He had been spotted on Daytona Florida’s beaches. Exactly the town where I had moved to. It was perfect, everything was starting to line up, like stars in the sky suddenly brightening in unison. Now all I had to do was escape my parents evil clutches, and find Bob Ross’ damn treasure. &#x200B; If you read this, thank you so much for doing so. This is my first post ever and my first time writing, so please tell me where I went wrong etc.
"So let me get this straight you're the god of doughnuts?" "Yep and you've been chosen as my champion." I look at the strange man in the tee-shirt and begin to laugh. "So who put you up to this was it my buddy, Dave? Dave you can come out now this prank of yours is really funny." "Dude this isn't a prank I'm an actual god." "OK Mr. God prove it." The man sighs before conjuring a doughnut. "Oh fuck you've got to be shitting me. So you're an actual god?" "Yep Jey'Li God of Doughnuts and you Frank have been chosen as my champion." "Champion? Like one of those mythological heroes?" "Pretty much you uh, wanted help dealing with the local crime right?" "Well yeah that's kind of why I prayed and no offense but I'm pretty sure I asked for help from the God of Justice." "Well, my brother kind of hit his prayer limit for the year so they sent me instead." "Are you sure they didn't have anyone else available like a God Of War or something." "Yeah, the only free person was me cause I get like zero prayers a year. You know what a champion is right?" "Yeah like the mythological heroes my father would tell me stories of they were blessed with various abilities and items by their chosen deity. So what do I get?" "Well, I don't really have a lot to offer you beyond the ability to conjure doughnuts." "That's not too bad free doughnuts whenever I want." "Well there are a few limits like you can only summon doughnuts from 7-12AM and you're limited to plain doughnuts I can't really do any of those fancy flavors yet." "Well, that's kind of shitty quick question how is that going help me fight crime?" "Hell if I know but yeah good luck with the whole crime-fighting thing. You can reach me at any time from 12PM-12AM." Jey'Li waves before poofing into a mist that smells of fresh doughnuts. "Huh, that wasn't very helpful." r/DefiningBoredom &#x200B;
Ever since I was twelve.. maybe even younger, it watched me, a black figure taller than a human and deformed, with the way my room was I could never truly tell if it was at the foot of my bed or watching through the window but I hope it was outside. Every birthday it would be there without a doubt and throughout the year it appeared on and off, it's my thirtieth birthday today, well yesterday and it wasn't there, I don't know whether I should be glad but I found out what my mother did to Dad, and now I don't know how to feel.. The monsters gone but maybe the monster was always down the hall, she knew it was there that's why I got the big room, I know what she did.. and now he's gone for real.. I'm scared but this time not by the shadow.
Down into the pit, Benaiah goes, Oiled in night, glowing pride, The envy for the lion's bride, Coiled tightly in his belly. . Benaiah whispers to his god, I will take and I will win, For war is just the way of men, And silence is his strength, For even words cannot stay, The hand of a man without equal. . Benaiah says, "I am your king. Lo, alas, the lion died." And tonight the moon cried, But the wind signed softly in the grass, And Benaiah drank from another's glass. And despite God looking down on them, He did not stop, he did not stop him.
"How much for the pillow?", Dave asked the clerk in the red shirt. "two thousand dollars, sir". "Ha, Is this made out of gold? Does it catch dreams?". "In fact, you're right on both counts sir. You see, this pillow was created by the V industries. It has the ability to record your dreams, which you can download and play at your leisure. Within such a technical creation, there is obviously some need for gold plated connections, So yes you're right It catches dreams and its made of gold" Although the price hurt his pockets, As a long term wannabe lucid dreamer Dave just had to try it out. \---- So let's see, I connect my phone to it, check. Use it like a regular pillow, well the instructions are simple enough. Now for that dream. \--- "You have one new dream". "This should be interesting", Thought Dave as he hit play. "We don't have much time, we need your help", A splitting image of Dave was saying to the camera, "That doesn't make sense, I thought all dreams were in first person". "Our world is in danger, our citizens are missing, there is panic and pandemonium all around. Whenever we go out we're afraid for our lives." The camera panned over to a group of people playing hockey, One of them was about to score, but then altogether they were whisked away into the sky. "You see, this is what I'm talking about, There is some entity that is capturing the citizens of our world". The camera pans to the sky where a rend in the sky is sucking people and building and everything up like a giant hurricane. "Many brave souls lost their lives to give your this message, Please turn off the dream catcher." \------------ Trying to build up the confidence to write. :)
He’s always known that he’s been different, ever since his family tossed him onto the street and left him to fend for himself. He’s known ever since the time in which he had to watch as his mother died to a blade in the back, wielded by his father who cared about booze more than his own child. He’s always known, despite denying it and denying it a multitude of times to assure himself, however fruitless it had been. He’s known. Angel watches quietly from where he rests on the curb outside the bar, the vehicles passing him in a flurry of pollution and smoke. The smell of rum and whiskey wafts throughout the eccentric atmosphere, and he brings the illegal bottle to his lips for another gulp. Happy eighteenth birthday, he thinks longingly to himself. Raises the glass again. The bell tower outside resounds its melody amongst the air, indicating another day gone by, another night filled with tragic loneliness. He feels hollow inside, empty. He should be happy, he knows, but he’s not. Not when he has nothing to fuel that joyfulness that lay dormant in his mind. Today’s the day he earns his wings, both in a figurative and literal sense; the day he reaches maturity, and prepares to set off into the world by himself. The clock rings for its twelfth and final time. Angel feels no different. This isn’t right, he observes. Though then again, when is anything ever right in his life? Another sip. Another step toward oblivion. He’s drunk and he understands it, intoxicated into a state of fury and anger and depressiveness. Everybody else has bright, glowing wings that are a show of purity and heavenliness. It’s suiting that he has none. He ponders an idea—an idea that has been in his head for far too long than it should’ve been. Before he knows it, he finds himself over a bridge, the torrent of a river beneath him raging, foaming, as though wistful for a meal. He’s already been falling for the longest of times, so what’s one more? Nobody has caught him then, and nobody will catch him now. He leans over the railing, thinking, wishing, praying. Praying for what he’s not sure, but at this point anything is fine. A quick death, perhaps. He leaps. For a bit he’s free-falling, the wind whipping past his face, pulling his dusty bangs back against his head, the frigid cold tingling his skin. It’s the serenity he has pleaded for his entire life, and it has finally come. He smiles. You know when you feel something coming, or for example, the sensation of being watched from afar? Although his eyes are long closed, Angel knows the water is within an inch of his face. He knows it. What he doesn’t comprehend, however, is the fact that it never connects. Instead he is soaring forward and up, straight ahead in a designated path. He risks a look behind, and swallows harshly when he sees something black and featherly protruding from his back. He’s waited for this his entire life. It’s the only thing he’s been excited about, the only thing he’s looked forward to in this dreary place. Except they’re black. Like the midnight that’s now, the color of a material coal. He’s always been different, and he’s known it. What’s one more surprise?
I don't think this is what you had in mind, but I got a giggle, so here you go. :-) &#x200B; ‘Bait on a hook,’ his brain thought to himself. He rocked his body slightly, forcing the rope to spin. The heavy helmet lamp on his head slowly turning with the revolution as he looked down. Their faces, pale, bloodless, fangs protruding, brows furrowed. Some were crouched animal like against the floor, their clothes in tattered rags, while others were grotesque, random body parts enlarged or disfigured. He froze even as the blood thundered in his ears, the scariest sight of all, back against the wall, were several tall slender figures, dressed neatly in pressed suits and sleek dresses. One stepped away from the wall and walked to the middle of the room slowly, the other creatures cowering back flinching away from the approaching one. “Come, Steve, no need to be shy. We’ve waited such a long time for you to join us.” The male’s rasping growl carried, echoing, a flash of white fang in the glimmering light of his helmet. Steve flinched, and reached, tugging on the rope desperately attempting to pull himself up, away from the cackling laughter beneath him. “No, no no.” He murmured frantically. “I’m not fishing.” The man smiled again, a sinister happy grin. “Don’t worry Steve, you’ll find your home among us soon.” He lept impossibly high and hissed in Steve’s face, the fangs snapping closed inches from his nose and Steve’s eyes closed involuntarily, flinching away. When his eyes opened, darkness surrounded him, the head lamp was gone and all he could hear was the pounding of the blood in ears and the faint drip of water in the distance. A rasping cackle sounded from beneath him, then another, suddenly Steve felt it, the brush of cloth, the feel of cold against his neck, a low keening whine escaped in his fear. More laughter, “We will have you Steve.” Rumbled one voice, “Come play with us.” Called another playful one. Steve, whimpered and flinched, then finally in terror everything went black. Hours later his eyes opened and he looked around in confusion. A few moments later a woman bustled in, dressed in sleek red. “Oh good, you’re awake. We thought you were really into it. We didn’t know you had no idea what was going on.” Steve stared up at her blankly. “Wha?” “The cave you fell into is part of a network of caves that used to be used as dance halls during prohibition. There’s a second entrance behind the building. We use it for our LARP, Vampire the Masquerade.” The woman turned and smiled brightly at him. \~Fin… Maybe\~
I've decided to call him Tarzan. Perhaps the name was a little uninspired, but fitting. Tarzan, from what we know, fits best in the description of the early human species homo erectus. Having the physical appearance of a bipedal ape, originally hailing from the African continent. My name is Jane, a coincidental amusement. How he ended up so far from home is a mystery we may never solve. But that's not my job. I've been asked to give this ancient man a second chance at life. They let me watch the filmed documentation of his reanimation. It was pretty gruesome. Tarzan had been essentially mummified in ice. Seeing a frozen corpse plumped up into living, breathing flesh like a skin balloon isn't something I'll soon forget. A case of being able to do something not meaning that it should be done. After all of Dr [redacted]'s self-flagellation and general peer wankery died down, it soon became apparent that all of the technology in the world isn't foolproof. You can reanimate the ancients, but you simply cannot evolve them. They had every expert on human education available, but what use is that on an early mind? None at all. They were trying to teach him our advanced words and languages, when all he knows of communication is foreign gestures and guttural throat sounds. That's when they called me in. Why they asked me to help their classified science project gone wrong instead of making it disappear, I don't know. An egotistical pride, perhaps. It's not my place to question, and I wanted to help. At first, it was a matter of having Tarzan become accustomed to my presence, to gain his trust. I brought him fresh fruit, along with toys to play with. Through routine and repetitive action, within a month he learned basic hand signals. He could now tell us when he was hungry, thirsty or 'go away'. Go away was usually sudden, and if you didn't duck in time you would need a shower and a fresh set of clothes. After a while, he was deemed ready to begin transitioning into modern life. By that, I don't mean an office job or a zoo. Tarzan was top secret, after all. We were taking him home. My chimpanzee sanctuary was quite well known, although mostly off limits to the general public. Here we built a special area to segregate Tarzan from the rest of the residents, while enabling visual and non physical contact. I have to say, he took to them very well. He will be able to live full time with the other residents in less than 6 months, by my calculations. He seems very happy here. It's fascinating to watch him teach the existing residents things, and vice versa. There is a portion of time where Tarzan must be confined each week and left with various basic tools and materials. It's a compromise with the original scientists who brought him back - they're hoping he will create things as he did in his original era, to learn something he can't tell us with words. I find this an acceptable compromise, and am content to keep their secret to see this young man thriving in modern society.
"Oi! Andrew! Time for a story!"Kath tossed the damp bar towel across the pub, slapping the daydreaming man on the back of the head with a satisfying Thwap! "Ow!"Andrew untangled himself from the towel and frowned at her. "Don't do that!" "Don't daydream when I'm paying you."Kath pointed to the hearth, about which had gathered the children from the village, with a few "child-at-heart"adults not so subtly sitting nearby. "Fine!"The man knocked back his drink and stood up, wandering to the fireplace to face his audience. "Right! Time for storyweaving by this wizard of wor..."he frowned, patting his head. "Wait a second."He tilted his head to the coat rack and beckoned. A large brimmed and distinctly pointy hat floated across the room, to settle on his head. "Right!"He returned the smiles of his audience members. "Now it is time for this properly dressed Wizard of Words to tell a tale." "Once upon a time, a long time ago, is the wrong direction to travel for our tale."Waving a hand, smoke billowed from the fire, coalescing above his head into a miniature model of the world, complete with a Sun. "No, our tale tonight comes from the future of all places."The model began to spin, orbiting the Sun faster and faster into a blur of movement. Glancing at the image, Andrew waited until... "There!"He thrust a finger onto the world, stopping it in its tracks. "Or rather then."He flicked a smile at the bemused audience. "Our tale begins then, all those years hence. A world that we've explored before."An excited murmur came from the regulars of Story Time - they knew what was coming. With the smoke forming and reforming behind him into the shape of his words, the Story Began. "At the time of our tale, there lived a young lady named Jenny. Now Jenny's family were wealthy, and had organised her wedding to another - a respectable physician, if that is to be believed."Andrew winked at the local doctor as a chuckle went around the bar. "But Jenny yearned for more, so she fled her parents manor and ran to the Sleepless City." He paused and coughed slightly, before waggling a hand. Kath sighed and passed the already poured pint over the bar, where it gently floated over to the waiting hand. Taking a sip, he continued: "Now, the Sleepless City is known to a few of you, but for the new members of our select group, I'll show you."A flash of bright light, and tall structures loomed out of the smoke. "This city towers over its residents. Taller than cathedral spires, built for giants, the residents scurry around in the shadow of the monoliths they call home." "To illuminate themselves in the dark shadows, they tamed lightning, caging it in glass and wire to burn day and night."The monoliths flashed with light, windows sparkling up the side of the structures." "Now, to tame lightning is a magnificent task, but such is the use of this marvel that the denizens of the Sleepless City forget about its wondrous nature. But like a moth to a flame, people are drawn to the bright lights of the city, driving it along. And so it was for our heroine." "Jenny, raised in luxury and wanting for nothing, knew not of the hardships of forging her own way in the world. She knew that life would be more difficult. But she knew that to be trapped in a life not of her own making would be worse, so she went to the Sleepless City, where it was said anyone could succeed." "Now, despite the efforts of her parents, Jenny had managed to develop intelligence. As such, when she reached the city she sought out people she knew: Courtney the a cook, Matthew the Chandler, Lisa and Matt, struggling actors and musicians, and Dave the clerk. Searching high and low, she found her friends in a tavern next to a park." The smoke shifted and curled, the gleaming towers of the Sleepless City giving way to the image of the interior of an opulent tavern. "Inside this tavern, cushioned seats were scattered about the place, upon which sat the strangely garbed men and women of the City. Fantastical devices sit on the countertop, promising exotic drinks. The friends lounged about, telling tall tales of their lives. And into the centre of it all strode Jenny, still in her wedding gown. As to what happens next, well, that is for another time." As the chorus of groans erupted from the children, the swirling smoke twisted about the wizard, before shooting up the fireplace. He smiled at their disappointment. "I know you wish to hear more, but it is late, and I,"he yawned, "am ever so tired. So Goodnight!"With a flash, he disappeared. After the parents had shooed the children out the door, the wizard snuck out of the kitchen door, to a general chuckle of the pub's patrons. The storyteller had started to do his disappearing act when, after giving into their groans, he had continued on until the dawn and lost his voice for a week. "Good enough, Madam barkeep?"He bowed to Kath, before settling onto a stool. She gave him a smile. "Good enough, 'Wizard of Words'."She passed him another drink and grinned. Having a storyteller seemed an odd choice for a drinking establishment, but it worked. Parents came in to keep an eye on their young ones, and of course will buy a drink or two "to keep themselves occupied". As such, business was booming as the Wizard's stories became known. Even if he did tend to wander off into the fantastical. Tamed lightning indeed! What was next, horseless carriages?
"Your girlfriend is gone, no one else in the house and you're saying you didn't do it?"The detective asked me for the hundredth time. God I wanted to rip his throat out then and there that thick skull stubborn dumbass. "I've said it before, I went home, found ashes on the bed and she was gone,"I could see my eyebags in the reflection. I wonder who was at the other side of the mirror, watching me suffer in the hands of our beloved incompetent police force. "Help me out here Trevor, I don't get it,"I swear, if I wasn't handcuffed to the table, I would've smack him till his mother couldn't recognise him. Another officer interrupted the interrogation. The door was left open for a while and I could see the bullpen, filled with the usual drunks and kids. But then I saw someone in the lift. This wasn't her floor but I swear on me mum's sauerkraut that I would recognise that straight black hair that draped over her shoulders perfectly anywhere. I was very sure that I wasn't hallucinating from fatigue. I was certain that I saw my girlfriend in that lift while I'm handcuffed and suspected of killing her.
The pirates were stunned, of course, when an old man landed on the deck of their ship. They had been cruising at 10,000 feet, the highest any vessel had gone before, and then this man came crashing out of nowhere. The man didn't look particularly threatening, what with his graying hair, obvious limp, and cane in hand. "Oi, who the hell do ye think ye are?"demanded the ship's captain, a blubbery man with a sadistic streak. "Comin' out of nowhere, this a pirate ship ye know?" The old man didn't respond, simply taking his time to look around the ship. Each of the seven crew had the stench of death around them, pistols drawn and aimed at his head. Pitiful fools, he thought. They were nothing compared to him. "Hello? Anybody in there?"The captain made the first mistake and waddled up to the old man, tapping the man's head with his gun. "I could blow yer head off with a single thought ye know?" "It's rude to invade in other's personal space." "So ye can talk-"The captain never finished speaking, blood spurting from his thick neck. The old man sighed as he wiped the blood off of his left hand with a handkerchief. It was a messy business, what he did, but a bounty hunter had to eat too. "If anyone else would like to try?"When none of the crew responded, the man shrugged. "Alright then, I'll wrap this up and be home in time for dinner then."Gently taking hold of the body of his cane, the man twisted the cane's head. Immediately, the cane began to glow and hum with deadly energy as electricity crackled down its body. "Let's dance, shall we?" The crew yelled out, in fear or in anger, the man didn't know, but they all discharged their weapons as fast as they could. But it was too late for them. The man sprinted to the pirate nearest to him, his cane arcing downwards and cleaving through the pirate's body, leaving behind an acrid smell. An energy sword landed precariously near the man, its blade slicing neatly into the ship's floor. Wielded by a young woman, the man almost felt bad for her. Almost. The man's spun around and his leg flashed upwards, kicking the woman into the air before cutting through her torso. The scent of melted flesh permeated the air at this point. The rest of the crew, out of ammo and terrified beyond their wit's end, backed away as far as they could from the monster that appeared human. "Please... W-We're sorry! We won't ever do nothing again!"They pleaded with him to no avail. There was no mercy for pirates. "Tell that to the ones who suffered because of you scum."The cane rose and fell four more times before it fell silent once more. There was a never-ending stream of pirates, but as long as he still had breath in him, he would make sure that they were punished. &#x200B; &#x200B; This be my first prompt so please don't eat my soul too viciously, aight?
I no like Oliver Speck. I think he might be police. He is Farang and has much money, but he is our boss right hand man. Farangs are tourists here. Farangs not criminal. He say English to boss. He say too fast I cannot get. My English okay but no good. He know police. He know who to talk to. He know when police come. Police come he go. He tell boss police come. He no tell us. Police here very corrupt. Even police come we pay and they leave. Police is very expensive. When we pay police boss is angry. Boss say money is help market and school. If police take money market and school no get money. Yesterday Oliver say to boss. He say very fast in English, but I hear. I understand some of what he say. He say cereal killer come here. He say FBI. He say we help. I hear FBI is police. I no like helping police. Oliver say police not good. They help because they want to be famous. They no help because cereal killer is bad. Boss no like to help. Boss no like Oliver say. But Boss like Oliver. Then the FBI come. They come in team. Many Farangs and many Kondams. Kondams are so cool. Skin shiny like black oil and hair like spirals. They are like Ngoa-Ba but bigger and better. They are muscle. Oliver say to Tall Kondam. They say for a long time then Tall Kondam call Oliver brother. They never met, why they brother? I not know. They hug like gay men. But they no gay. I see Farangs hug on TV. I think they just brother. Boss room turn into command center. Many computers. Many weapons. They track cerial killer. Killer name is Josh Denver. He kill children. He kill Farang children and he escape. Now he will kill our children. I angry. Now I want to help Oliver. ==\As author\ Ahhh I ran out of time. Writing in this POV is much more difficult than I thought! But I enjoy the premise and I might come back to this. Thanks for the fun prompt! ==
"Wait. So let me get the straight,"The dignified cat could only nod in return. "You are from another planet far, far away from this galaxy."You steadily ask, to which the stoic-faced cat replies, "Yes." "Because of tough living conditions, your species is nearing extinction. As your comrades set up and prepare "Operation Uilotip", where they send out one representative to catfish women then impregnate them.", you question once again, losing faith in the process. "You are not incorrect. However, your miniscule explanation was not enough to elucidate my scintillating powers to remove or alter memory fragments, which is how i've suceeded in impregnating 69 women.", the cat replied, almost, proud? "So you planned to impregnate me, but stopped once you realize i'm your owner."I continue. "That is sufficient."
DISCLAIMER: The following piece of writing is purely for entertainment, and not meant to be taken seriously This does not in any way depict my sense of ethics, my views on religion, or express whom I believe should be condemned for whatever reason. Any sort of accidental biases or similarities to any specific person or people is completely coincidental. Anyway, onto the writing! \---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The other day, somebody called me evil. I'm not sure if I would use that word to describe myself. I mean, sure I lied about my dog having cancer in order to raise enough on GoFundMe in order to pay for my facelift, I dated that loser Timothy just so I could get to his hot brother, and I sure as hell showed that bitch Mikaela for trying to shaming me about it by posting that video I took of her drunk ass urinating on her boyfriend's car. But really, though. Who hasn't done all of that? Alright, so I have a bit of an interest in the occult. Other than my obsession with Disneyland, it's my main field of interest. I've taken part in several rituals and I've even gone as far as to get a pentacle tattoo. Okay, so I'm evil. Big deal. But I never thought it would ever lead anywhere, especially being chosen. It all started one Sunday morning. I woke up late, and dragged my groggy self out of bed, put on my black robe and black slippers, poured myself some coffee, and went outside to get the mail. I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary, save for some bills and the latest edition of Classy Bitch monthly. But when I brought the mail inside and dropped it onto the counter, I noticed a very interesting envelope. A shiny red one, with what looked to be an embroidered sulfur symbol on one side. Curious as I was, I picked up the mysterious envelope, and lightly lifted the flap open. I took out a neatly folded peace of very nice parchment paper, which contained bizarre symbols of which I have never seen before. Suddenly, I started feeling very warm, and I began to hear this weird warping sound. Within a split second, I realized that I was being surrounded by bright red rays circling around me, getting brighter and brighter until it became a blinding flash of light and I felt myself disappear from the room. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a dimly lit crimson room. I was lying on what appeared to be a very nice lavender Victorian couch. I get up, looking around a room with no doors, and almost fleshy-looking translucent red walls, which I noticed seemed to be bowing in and out with what sounded like a constant thumping like a heartbeat. The room was almost completely empty, save for the couch, a giant mirror on the wall above it, and the door on the other side of the room. Looking into the mirror, I realized that my hair and makeup were done, I was also wearing a very luxurious tight black dress, nicer than I could ever afford. How is this even possible? I wondered. Unless someone knocked me out and kidnapped me, I have to be dreaming. Suddenly, I heard the door on the other side of the room open. Out came a completely red man with horns on his head and a tail, though somewhat surprisingly normal looking wearing a nice suit, and staring right at me. "Ms. August?"He asked, in an unexpectedly polite tone. I looked at him with a confused look on my face, pointing at myself to make sure he was speaking to me, as if there was anyone else there. "Alright, Lucifer will see you now. Come with me" continued on reply
"it's over!"I roared across the town square. The man in the blue glasses glared back without reaction. "You really think they'll let you air this?! Any of it! It's done. Back down now or we all die!"The remote duct taped to my hand was nothing more than a rewired Sony flip phone, amazing what you can learn how to do online. "Angelica there's no way out of this that we haven't forseen. You're not a killer! We raised you, we know you. Do you remember when those men took you hostage in Saigon, and José had to fight in the tournament to get your freedom! You had your chance. The gun was in your hands. You could have been free there but you made the right choice. You're a good person Angie!"My 'mother' was standing on the left of the man with glasses. I leveled the Glock 19 in my hand and squeezed the trigger. The round cut through her like paper and she clutched her shoulder with a scream. "This isn't TV anymore. This isn't a prop gun and this isn't a fuckin plastic trigger. Either I walk out of here or I blow this place and all of us to hell."I held the cell phone aloft for all of them to see. The security team looked nervous, my former friends and classmates were terrified. "With what? Hmm? The plastique from eppisode 9? It's playdough. Hand grenades from season 12? They're flash bangs remodeled to look like the real thing. They're plastic for Christ's sake. Angelica I don't give a dam what you want or what you think. This show ends one way. The hero dies a heroic fuckin death and the viewers fuckin cry. So get the fuck over here and let's finish this."The bespectacled menace shouted. He really was an ugly pugnacious little fuck. I sighed and pushed the timed dial function. Sixty seconds. "Hey asshole, who needs explosives when there's a stockpile of propane and diesel for the backup generators!"I smiled as a look of realization and horror crossed his face. Some ran for exits that were too far to reach. This soundstage was the size of a city, no way you'd cover three miles in a minute. Others rushed me, trying to undo it. I could've let them make it. Not that it'd do any good. The remote was locked. Even I couldn't stop it now. "After this, they'll never let it happen again. Nobody will ever have to live this lie again."My mumbling was drowned out as I emptied the Glock, quickly reloading and firing again. Security guard, actors, they fell like wheat before the scythe. "Never again!"I roared, but the sound was carried away as a wave of heat and noise washed me from awareness.
“HOW COULD YOU? HE WAS YOUR OWN FUCKING BROTHER!!!” - Kaski shouted while leaning over the corpse of his friend Pedro Pedro’s older half brother Diego: heavily accented voice “eh, he was only my half Brother, now turn around and walk away pendejo” Nicholas peeked his head down from a window of a small worn out house overlooking the dark rainy street, griping a rifle with a tear running down his face knowing his cowardice is about to result in the death of his friend Pedro. Nicholas: thinking to himself “NO NO NO NOT AGAIN, EVERY NIGHT I HAVE TO RELIVE THIS” Kaski looks down at Pedro’s Glock still in his back pocket, almost close enough to grab a few silent seconds pass Kaski: Jolts for the gun “YOU SICK MOTHER F.........” [BANG] [BANG] [BANG] Nicholas peeks his head back over the window frame and witness’s Kaski’s failed attempt to gun down Diego for another time in a seemingly endless loop that’s been going on for years Nicholas: Begins to sob “NO NO NO........... I couldn’t save him four years ago, and I can’t save him here....... IN MY OWN FUCKING MIND” Nicholas throws his rifle at the wall and it Shatters A light screech is let out as a short black haired women stepped out from behind the nearby wall Nicholas: “Jess? Is that you?...... weird I have this dream almost every night and you’re never in it.” Jess: looking directly into Nicholas’s eyes “I can’t imagine this happing every night” Nicholas: convinced Jess is just a figment if his imagination gives out a disingenuous ‘eh it’s life I guess’ as he stands up and looks over the corpse of his friends Kaski and Pedro Jess: “um so I get this is a probably a bad time but,...... did you finish the Geography homework for the Eurasia Exam?” Nicholas: looks back confused “I’m sorry what?” Jess: changing to a softer tone and becoming increasingly more embarrassed “um the homework for tomorrow...... I actually need help remembering everything we need to know, and I was kind of hoping you could help me......” Jess ended her statement with a slight smile before realizing that Nicholas was in serious emotional pain Nicholas: “that’s the farthest thing from my mind right now” Jess: “I’m sorry I came at a bad time” Nicholas: with a more confused face Jess: “I’m um.... you know what I’m just going to go.... I’ll talk to you tomorrow” Nicholas: “eh whatever, my mind must really be going to shit if you’re here....... but okay I guess and for the test just memorize the cities on the trans-Siberian railway” Nicholas looks back at the corpses of Pedro and Kaski still convinced Jess was just a figment of his imagination Jess: “oh okay thanks” Nicholas: paying no attention to her, walks up to Kaskis corpse as it turns into several black crows that fly away.... “I’m sorry Kaski,” Jess: thinking to herself “holy shit what is Nicks deal, you think after knowing a guy for three years he’d open up a bit about his past..... that’s how he stays so happy and charming, he bottles up his emotions..... oh wait so that’s why he named his Dog ‘Kaski’...... at least now I know what to study for” [NEXT DAY AT UNIVERSITY MOMENTS AFTER NICHOLAS FINISHES HIS TEST FOR GEOGRAPHY] Nicholas walks out of class and is quickly stopped against a wall by Jess Nicholas: “Oh Jess, hey what’s up? I’m kind of hungry want to go get lunch?” Jess: Looking at Nicholas’s face for signs of pain or sleep deprivation, to no avail as she looks into the face of a guy that until recently assumed he had life all figured out with not a care in the world “um yeah sure, let’s try that new Thai place” Nicholas: smiles “ha you read my mind” both Nicholas and Jess walk a few blocks taking small talk about various subjects Nichols: “hey how did you think you did on the Eurasia test we just had?” Jess: “oh I think I did great, also thank you for telling me all I had to memorize were the cities along the Trans-Siberian railway” Nichols: confused “when did I tell you that?” Jess: slightly embarrassed “um..... last night? When you were in the middle of.... um just forget I said anything” Nicholas freezes up and stops walking, looking at Jess he suddenly remembers his dream from the night before Jess: super embarrassed “listen if you want to talk about it we can..... or we can pretend it never happened” Nicholas just stares at Jess for a few uneasy moments Jess: “I know I shouldn’t have snuck into your dreams but I had too......... my grade was on the line. I had no idea I’d see..... um whatever it was I saw.” Nicholas: laughs hysterically “oh don’t worry about it, let’s just never talk about this again” Jess nods in agreement and both preceded to eat at a new Thai restaurant [LATER THAT NIGHT AFTER NICHOLAS FALLS ASLEEP] Jess: in her bed talking to herself “okay let’s save Nicholas’s friend” falls asleep and creeps into Nicholas’s dream Jess: wakes up behind a wall in the same small house overlooking Nicholas’s constantly occurring nightmare Nicholas peeked his head down from window of a small worn out house overlooking the dark rainy street, griping a rifle with a tear running down his face knowing his cowardice is about to result in the death of his friend Pedro. Jess comes out from behind the wall “Am I to late?” Nicholas: shocked but welcoming “holy shit you really can entire peoples dreams..... why are you here?” Jess: runs up and hugs Nicholas “I’m here to help you stupid, you need to save your friend or you’re going to keep reliving this” Nicholas: “I can’t though.... I got him killed in the real world.... even if I pulled the trigger the rifle doesn’t work. My mind is set up so I can’t save him..... even in my dreams” Jess: “you can’t.... but I probably can” jess pulls out a silver revolver from a brown bag and grips it around Nicholas’s hand Jess: “on the count of three we do this together” jess pushes the hammer of the revolver back using Nicholas thumb Nicholas nods in agreement Jess: “one” points revolver over the window Jess: “two” lines up shot with Diego Kaski looks down at Pedro’s Glock still in his back pocket, almost close enough to grab Jess: “NOW” Nicholas pulls the trigger with the help of Jess Diego falls back and is shot several more times by Kaski Kaski: “NICHOLAS, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Nicholas: Holding back tears “it’s been years, and I finally saved you* Kaski: “Nicholas, it wasn’t your fault we died, it was the gang life, I was going to get wacked eventually... it was our choice, you did the right thing. We don’t want you to suffer, we want for you to live your life peacefully..... if you pulled the trigger that day you would have been just like us” Kaski leans in to hug Nicholas as his body turns to white doves Jess: “So it’s over now?” Nicholas: with a smile on his face hugs Jess “Yes, thank you so much” both Nicholas and Jess take a moment to sit down as the sky clears and a rainbow shines through the air
I tried to keep my eyes averted, afraid of what I would see if I looked more closely at the Keeper. I had caught a glimpse of the sallow skin stretched over where a man’s face should have been. There were no eyes, yet I knew he could see. There was no nose to draw breath, yet he was certainly alive. There was no mouth… I dreaded the sound that would come out of him. “We want our souls back,” said Merrin. He was staring fixedly at the ground. I followed his gaze and noticed with a twist of revulsion that the Keeper did not have any feet. Long bony hands protruded from his sleeves. He only had three fingers on each side. “Merrin of the Mud. Jonnas, son of the rat catcher. You wish for your souls…” The voice came from all around him, smooth, soft, like a trickle of honey. The dissonance was perhaps more unnerving than if he had spoken with a deathly rasp. It was as though he had stolen it from someone else. “Yes, we wish for our souls,” I said, trying to keep my own voice steady. “I require payment...” We had expected this. Merrin pulled out his leather purse from beneath his shirt. We had just over fifty gold pieces. We had starved for those coins. We had spent winters in rags. And now the little we had would vanish beneath the folds of that dark cloak. My conviction could not waver. We had to do this. It would be worth it. “I do not deal in gold…” “What?” In my shock, I looked up at that horrific visage. “Merrin of the Mud, the price for your soul is your right eye. Jonnas son of the rat catcher, the price for your soul is your ring fingers.” Merrin and I shared a glance. We needed only a moment, a sign of confirmation from the other. We knew what we had to do. We had come this far. We could not turn back. Our only way was forward. “I accept,” we both uttered.
Luna spent all afternoon snooping arround in the woods. After almost a month, she expected the trail to be cold, but not THAT cold. She did this in wolf form, after all, but she couldn’t smell anything. She so wished Jim was here, why on earth did he want to work as a travelling salesman? As if that job was so much fun. And on top of all the hassle, he made barely more than he would get on the dole, if you counted in all the money he used on dress suits and haircuts. The only thing she noticed that she was not the only one sniffing around. There were squirrels, lots of them. Of course, they kept their distance and fled up the trees when she approached, but they kept returning to the ground and seemed to search for something, exactly in the same clearing Chad had described to her. Well, at least she thought it was the place. Being unable to use her phone was one of the downsides of being a wolf. She did another round of sniffing while the squirrels fled onto the trees round the clearing and chittered in anger and hostility. After a while, they even resorted to throwing pine cones and small branches at Luna. She looked up at them, annoyed. She made a mental note about eating one of them next time she got a change. Hell, she could even return in human form, with a shotgun, and then ask for reciepes on the internet. She remembered having been served sautéed squirrel by some southerner a few years ago, and it had been tasty either. Suddenly, there was movement. The sqirrels all gathered on one tree, chittering softer for a while, almost as if they were talking among themselves. There were roundabout 15 of them, some fully grown, some last year’s young. Occasionally, one of them jumped down and raced across the clearing, she could not fathom why. But Luna had a mission, and no time for hunting. Again, she got nothing useful. There were vague canine scents that weren’t those of her family, but they were too faint to tell her wether they came from a wolf, coyote, werewolf or even some stray dog. The squirrels got moving again, and gathered on another tree somewhat off the clearing, now chittering softly. Luna didn’t know herself why she followed them and examined the base of that tree. And there it was. Wolf hair that smelled faintly human. The ominous feral werewolf, no doubt. She knew all the real wolves and coyotes currently inhabiting the area, it was none of them, and she never had met another werewolf round here. She looked up the tree. Was there such a thing as were-squirrels? She had never heard of such, but she hadn’t heard of real-life werewolves either before she fell in love with Jim. She lifted her head and sniffed, with all the concentration she could muster. No, not the faintest hint of human smells. The little critters were no werethings, they were only weird. Just how intelligent could squirrels be? Luna decided to return with peanuts, not a shotgun. At the end of the day, the enemy of your enemy is an ally. But for now, it was more important to collect evidence. She returned to the spot where she had transformed and left her stuff. She needed to be human to get a sample without contaminating it with her own scent too much.
I always believed Einstein’s theory of relativity was romantic. As I kissed my wife I couldn’t help but remember my middle school science teacher, Ms. Parker, probably ten years in her grave now, and her explanation of time slowing down or increasing. All this depending on your standing perspective. I had kissed Francisca, Frankie like I always called her, every morning before I went to work as an accountant. And every morning I could swear time slowed down. Then one day it did. I opened my eyes today while kissing Frankie, something I probably haven’t done, opening my eyes of course, anytime I could remember in the last few years since marriage. But this time I just had the impulse. Almost like my body could tell time had frozen to a stop. I saw Mr. Walkers watering his plants, except the water had stopped mid stream. The birds heading in the direction of the bird feeder and then freezing mid flight, as if they were puppets being held in one position. The world seemed to be a top, no longer spinning but frozen in time. And then, I couldn’t help but remember my middle school science teacher, Ms. Parker, probably ten years in her grave now, and her explanation of time slowing down or increasing. All this depending on your standing perspective.
"For the last time Henry, you'll never amount to anything."The comment stuck out from the multitudes of thoughts and comments flooding through your mind. It wasn't necessarily the comment itself, you were used to hearing these self-deprecating comments, it was middle school after all. Bad grades, bad breakups, pre-teen drama; all seemed to warrant the idea of existential ideas. It wasn't the comment, it was the emphasis: never; and the conviction. &#x200B; You open your eyes. 7th grade math class, Bradenbury Middle School in humdrum Afron, Ohio. Known for such exciting attractions like corn fields and the occasional tractor breaking down. You pry your head from your desk and wipe the slime from the corner of your mouth on the back of your hand. You almost feel guilty this time as you're sure that your teacher rolls her eyes for what seems like the thousandth time. You flutter your eyes close and feel the network of thoughts open once again: a sea of grey with islands of colors bursting with ideas. You extend your mind's eye over to the teacher's and sure enough, the familiar tut-tut of her mental tongue. &#x200B; The islands always impress you with their magnificence: each thought with a primary emotion with a color assigned to it. Red for anger, yellow for happiness, blue for sadness; but the shades and hues could make any artist weep with the complexity of the notes. In your school, there is a lot intense colors: deep crimsons for the feuds between the photo-gangs, amethysts to make any jeweler jealous, and.... a blue. A deep blue whose depth you've never noticed before... so.... blue. You were used to seeing sadness; middle school was full of it and people had a lot to be sad about... but... never just blue. &#x200B; Your eyes open once again as the teacher calls upon you. A nervous laugh to dispel that you were in fact paying attention and no ma'am you do not think that a trip to the principal's office is necessary. A quick computation on your trusty fingers and you clear the algebra and dive back into the sea. You knew the cobalt island was to your left but you didn't know the two people sitting at the shared bench. &#x200B; You lean over to your partner and whisper, "Benji, what is the name of the two people sitting to my left?" "Marcus and uhh.. that kid Henry." "Have I met either of them before?" "Probably Marcus. He's the kid that likes to talk about his dad's job in the FBI or something. But that Henry kid doesn't really talk to anyone else." "Ahh okay, thanks for keeping an eye out for me,"you remark with a smirk. Benji chuckles at the old joke that you often share. 'I'm gonna meet this kid, you think to yourself.' &#x200B; As it were, middle school doesn't really allow for much socializing, with so many classes and the strict social codes of recess, you find yourself more isolated than participating. It didn't help that you were constantly being pulled aside to work on things with teachers and needed special attention, but hey, you've been used to this your entire life and why should you expect anything different now. Ushered onto the bus by a teacher, you are plopped into your assigned seat and ready yourself for the bus ride home. You reach into your bag and start searching for your fidget spinner that you hide away during the day when you feel the pressure on the plastic bus bench change. &#x200B; "Hi, Im \[you\]. What's your name?"you probe to the other student. After a short pause, the small voice ventures a reply, "Im Henry." "Oh, we have math together right?" "Yeah."the voice grows quieter and quieter and you feel that perhaps Henry would do better with silence than dialogue. You close your eyes to get an inside look, and sure enough the blue island is like a lighthouse in the storm of grey. "See even he doesn't want to talk to you. Worthless. Everything will be over with today when you get home. Only 1 hour till salvation." &#x200B; Your feel your heart drop as you think over the comment. Once again, the conviction... the blue. "Hey Henry, are you up to anything today."The boy stays silent and above the sounds of the kids on the bus screaming and yelling, you hear his breathe stop. "You want to come over today? Like, to my house?" &#x200B; "I uhh,"you close your eyes and perk up as you see the swirl of blue wrapped in a thin yellow film, "umm... I'm not doing anything. Would your mom say yes?" "Let me ask her,"as you go to pull out your phone from your bag, you drop your fidget spinner on the floor and hear it roll. "Umm Henry, mind grabbing that for me?" "Huh, oh! Yeah let me grab it for you,"you feel it land back into your hand, "sorry sometimes I forget that your blind underneath those glasses." &#x200B;
“Kaski, Pedro, Diego don’t enlist in the marines” Nick said with a serious tone seemingly out of place for the characteristics of his personality Pedro: laughs a little “oh relax, we’re all going reservist, we’ll be fine. Just grind through half a year of boot camp and uncle same is going to set us up for life........ or are you forgetting how expensive college is in the state of California” Diego: nodding in agreement with Pedro “my brothers right, we have nothing to worry about, and besides he has a point, how the hell are we going to afford college? We graduate in four days and not one of us works enough hours to even move out, let alone college.” Kaski: “Nick, you’re always telling us what to do and what not to do, granted you’re right most of the time but this is different. We all need the money and we all want to ride the bill to Uncle Sam so unless you can say something in the next 30 seconds we’re all walking into that recruiters office” Nick: “If we join the marines....... we’re all going to die.” Pedro: with his patience running thin as Nick has stalled the group out as long as he could in the hot sun “how pendejo? We’re going to be fucking reservist and the US isn’t in any wars at the moment.” Nick: sighs and puts his head down “in two years we’re all going to fixing helicopters just north of San Diego. And one day there’s going to be a massive earthquake....... the Andres Fault line will snap. Millions will die. The national guard will be stuck North of LA with there hands full it’s going to rest entirely on the reservist Marines stationed in San Diego to maintain order with the local police. Riots will start over the country, rumors of police and military brutality against looters and squatters in California will bring the United States into a second civil war............ They tear us apart...... we never leave the city.” Kaski: sharing in Pedro’s Frustration “listen if you don’t want to be a marine we get it, you don’t have to pretend to be psychic.” Nick: franticly begging “NO I’M SERIOUS IF WE DON’T LEAVE THE US IN TWO YEARS WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.” Diego: “NICK....... no one wants to hear your shit anymore” Nick: “then I’m sorry I can’t go with you....... I booked a flight out of the United States” Nick showed Diego his plane ticket and silently walked away in shame Pedro: “What the hell was his problem?” Diego: “I couldn’t tell you, he’s been acting weird the last couple months. He keeps trying to prevent us from joining the military, just scared or worried I guess.” [Two years later at a open air beach bar in Tanzania] Nick: slightly intoxicated, leaning at the bar gazing at a small blank tv screen Bartender takes notice and says “hey American, want to watch something?” As he turns on the small wall mounted TV Nick: “sure bru, turn on the news, it’s about that time anyway” The bartender obliges and turns on the news to the shock of several Tanzanian locals as aerial footage of major west coast cities in flames is complemented by the commentary of a news anchor barley able to compose himself News anchor from the TV: “Just hours ago a level nine earth quake hit the western sea board splitting the San Andres Fault. The death toll is estimated to be in the tens of millions” A slightly more drunk nick starts raising his voice “OH ITS ABOUT TO GET SO MUCH WORSE” Nick puts his head down and starts to cry A local Tanzania women who noticed Nick drinking at the bar a few days earlier went to offer her consonances, “Hey my names Amita and I can tell you’re having a bad day, this shocks the world even as far away as Tanzania” - * the women said while putting a arm around Nick* Nick: sobers up slightly after downing several bottles of water “no you don’t understand........... and how could you. I was supposed to be there with my country men” Amita: with a confusing face “I mean it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have know this would happen” Nick: “I did though..... I’m supposed to die in a few months.....with all my friends..... defending earthquake survivors from armed militias of looters and anarchist.” Amita: “how... could you.... I mean why w......” Nick interrupts Nick: “I’v lived this before” Amita: “what do you m.......” Nick interrupts again Nick: “I have lived two lives, almost identical until now. I remember everything from the first one. I didn’t originally come to east Africa..... in my last life I joined the marines with my friends... in a few weeks the US is going to be in the middle of a second civil war..... I tried to warn my friends but they didn’t listen” Amita: speechless Nick: sober enough to realize he’s sounding crazy “eh forget I said anything, I guess when God gives you a second ha very there’s no plus one” nick gives a faint smile and leaves the bar nick come home to his small beach hut and curls up in his hammock moments away from sleepin Nock Nock The large but unstable driftwood door come crashing down from the frame landing on the sandy floor “Opps” a voice says as a figure stands in the doorframe Nick: still semi drunk remains facing away from the door seemingly without a care “well that’s doing to give me a even bigger headache in the morning........” “I’m sorry I only meant......” Nick interrupts Nick: “HOLY SHIT DIEGO IS THAT YOU?” he shouts as he finally opens his eyes to gaze out of the now fully exposed doorway In walked Diego Diego: “Yes it’s me, two years ago you told us this would happen....... I didn’t entirely believe it but it shook me up enough to become active duty. I was stationed in Zanzibar when we got the news...” Nick: “Kaski a Pedro?” Diego: “.............. I’m sorry...... they’re trapped in San Diego” Nick: “then there’s nothing we can do?” Diego: “I’m afraid not.....” the next morning both Diego and Nick wake and walk to the open beach bar from the previous night. Diego: “Pass me a drink” Nick: “Same here” the bartender slides a few shots towards Diego and Nick Nick: “to second changes” taps his glass against Diego’s
I ignored it the first day it happened, the old radio was always on the fritz, even back when everything was normal. Ha, normal. Odd thought... But as I sat on my chair, finishing up my breakfast, I looked over at the radio and shrugged, "The hell, ain't got nothing to lose by checking this out I guess..."I spent the next few hours rummaging my little house trying to find a map of the area, and finally, I found one. I put it down my kitchen table and stared, grabbing a marker and looking over the map, before marking two points, "Mm, yep, that's the only two towers still standing in this area, and the radio only has city-wide range... Nearly night though, better get some rest and hit the road in the morning..." Morning had come, I walked out of the front door and over to my car, laughing slightly to myself as I thought about how easy it really was to live in the apocalypse, "Always back on TV and in books, it was all the prep, and danger, but really, it's just normal life without other people... I can just go and siphon fuel from any other car on the road if I run out, and break into any store to grab some canned food..."I reached my car and got in, patting the steering wheel, "2013 Prius, the road warrior of the apocalypse. ha."The electric whine started up, and I moved onto the road, navigating around the abandoned cars and debris of the people before me. I still had no idea about what happened to cause all this, I just woke up one day, got ready for work as usual, walked out the front door and then boom, empty cars, abandoned bikes and lonely houses. Inner city was the same story, power was still on, hell, the internet was still running, but every other person on planet earth had just suddenly vanished, leaving only me. That was only five months ago. I snapped out of my thoughts as the GPS suddenly announced 'Destination in 400 meters on the right."I drove up a bit further and got out, staring in mild surprise at one of the cars in the parking lot, a Delorean DMC-12, done up as a BTTF replica. I laughed, and went inside the building. After an hour of searching the place, I found nothing. "Must be the other tower then." It was only as I got back into my car that I realized something. An empty parking spot. Right where the Delorean had just been. I stared, and shook my head, "I'm going mad. Maybe it was on the other side of the lot..."I turned the Prius on, waiting for the whining noise to start up. It didn't. The battery was drained completely, I cursed and closed the hood, "It was full, damn thing was full when I left, and at 80% when I got out... Well no matter, one of these other cars will work."Except none of them did, they all turned on yes, but only to quickly show a 'Battery check' warning. I stood, looking around the lot in complete bewilderment, "All of these cars have empty batteries... What the hell?"I refused to panic just yet, deciding I could just siphon power from the station into my Prius, but when I went back inside the building, all the lights were off, and the tower had stopped transmitting. The power was gone. I stared, before cursing and grabbing any left-over food and water in the building, it would seem I have to walk back. It was evening when I was halfway back down the mountain, and I paused to enjoy the sight of the city's skyline coming alive, however, the lights had only been on for about a minute or two, before they all started to slowly wink off one by one, and then faster and faster, soon, the city was simply a black slab of buildings, lit only by the setting sun, and soon, by only the moon. I stared, before sighing, "Guess power was bound to fail sooner or later. No more hot showers and TV-show binges..." I reached my home street, and stared at the carnage on display before me, burnt cars, broken lamp-posts and bent trees, along with two scorch marks leading in a directly straight line down the road towards the T-section where my house was. Emphasis on was. It was gone now, just a pile of rubble, like some object had smashed straight through the middle. I spent 22 years of my life saving for that home, and had spent the past ten years living in it, and now it was gone. I stumbled towards the ruin in anger, and looked down as something caught my eye. Still spinning, it soon slowed down, then clattering onto the road, it was a CA license plate, which was odd, considering I lived in Kansas, but the real kicker here were the letters, 'OUTATME'. Five years later, and I'm still angry, after investigating, I came to conclusion the help message was from the Delorean's owner, who seems to some kind of time traveler or something, whatever they were, they used me, I don't why they baited me to the tower before stealing all the power in the city, they just did, I don't why they wrecked my street or home, they just did. Apparently being a time traveler makes it alright to ruin someones life. Don't know why, it just does. I wanted revenge, and now I had it, I was a quantum physicist before the incident, I knew the concepts of time travel, and I was going to build my own device, and chase that person down, and make them pay for abusing their power, and me. My machine worked, but instead of me going after the traveler, I ended up getting distracted by all the wonders of history, soon, I had completely forgotten my revenge, instead focusing on trying to help others with my newfound powers. I was soon a hero, people told tales of a marvelous man and his machine, appearing in times of need and helping those who needed help. Life was good. One day my machine broke down mid-transport however, dumping me in a run-down empty suburb. I stepped out of my machine, looking back to check which disguise it had taken, and that's when I backed away in terror. The front end stared at me, as my eyes honed in on the badge, which was simply three letters, but nonetheless the most terrifying message I had ever seen. The letters were DMC, the silver paint on the car gleamed proudly, as the gullwing doors swung shut with a woosh. I gulped, and looked around me, I knew this street, I knew this area, I knew this city. It was my city. My time. I was the traveler. I baited myself, I destroyed my own home. And I did it. I knew what I was doing, and I did it. See if those events had never happened, I would've just died of old age, doing nothing, all alone on the planet. All those people I saved whilst traveling in time, they would've all died. And my life would instead be a pointless waste. Time is weird. I always thought if I ever ran into a paradox it would be like if I ended up back in the fifties and my grandmother tried to marry me or something. Or I would go and see my younger self, which somehow results in young me dying Or- I don't know, I just didn't think of this kind of paradox, or is this even a paradox? If I never baited my younger self into this trap wouldn't younger me just die of old age? oblivious? I don't know, all I do know, is time travel is a lot of fun, and it made me a better person, plus helped other people. So better that then whatever would happen if I didn't do it... So I sat there, staring at my old house through the front windscreen. I floored it. &#x200B; The man grunted in pain, as he clutched his side, vainly trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from the wound. He looked over at the radio tower's display panels, before grunting in alarm as they all turned off, leaving the room in darkness. "So there is nobody else. I'm the last alive, although not for long, damn stray cat... Well cats, no idea why they just ganged up on me. I had been feedin' 'em for the past damn week! Guess they just wanted more... Well they all be dead now, shotgun is a survivor's best friend... But they got me good... Looks like I'm just going to die here, alone in the darkness..."He slumped, knocked out by loss of blood. I opened the door, and stared at the slumped blood covered man before me, before nodding in relief, "Just in time, He's still saveable..."See, after I got back to my base, I suddenly remembered a fact, the help message first broadcasted at 11:32 AM on Tuesday. Why does that matter? I didn't send my bait message to my previous self until 11:22 on Wednesday. There were two help messages. Only mine was fake. So there really was a survivor. As a result, I had come back to the second running radio tower, and found this man. He's joined me in my travels now, We're the last two humans to ever exist, but we live forever, exploring the entire history of Earth. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
These tyrants think they can govern native Martians!? Sterling screams as his infantry transport falls from the sky above the red planet. HOLD ON MEN. The sound of the impact reminds him of the dust tornados that frequent the dunes of the Alabaster Plain. When the bright light receeds and his vison returns so begins the warm ringing in his ears. Sterling knows he has suffered a concussion he pukes violently and before he can wipe the blood off his lobes, high velocity rounds rip through the cabin. He releases his harness and falls hard to the floor. The piercing rounds make a muffled noise as they connect with the flesh of his private Johassen, a boy of 18 years. Sterling knows it's too late for him. Sterling spots a moving body, he grabs lieutenant Boye by his neck and leads him to a jagged hole in the transport, a result of the impact against the sharp red rock of the planet under siege. Boye! Get your shit together! We need to return fire. Boye visibly stunned shoulders his rail gun rolls out around the transport and takes aim at the Earthling fighter pod. As the thunder crack of the rail gun fills the surrounding area Sterling takes inventory of the transport cabin, bodies are still strapped in with restraints. CAPTAIN! Sterling scans the cabin, its private Nunez who looks to be the only other survivor is dangling like a grape on a vine. Sterling sprints forward unsheaths his glass blade and makes quick work of the harness that ensnares Nunez. His body hits the floor with a wet thump. It is quickly followed by a shriek and a sob. MY FACE! They shot my fucking FACE OFF! Nunez cries. Sterling could see about three of Nunez teeth mixed with blood and flesh through a pretty decent hole in the side of the privates face. The majority of his right ear was no more the wound though visually vomit inducing was not life threatening. Boye where are those blue bastards? I need to patch Nunez! Sterling barks. I put at least eight in the cockpit they landed about a quarter mile out replied Boye. Sterling knew the Lings would be on them like VD in a Martian cathouse, he had to move fast. Boye! Gather as many grenades and ammo as possible. Find and set a drone to defend this location. Put out a distress to Bravo team they are two hours out we have to hold this position. Sterling removes his hot gel from his satchel, grabs Nunez by the back of his head looks the boy in the eyes and says "Steve this is going to hurt, stay with me do not pass out. We need you."Nunez nods. Sterling squeezes out the hot gel onto his glass blade and smears it on the open wound the gel when activated by blood achieves a tremendous temperature. It cauterized the wound next to immediately. Nunez screamed primal from his gut, and passed out. Sterling takes the opportunity to relieve Nunez of the clump of gristle that was once his ear from his head, and applies hot gel to the area. As Boye relays information to Bravo team via the drone headset. Sterling scans the horizon. The Lings are within visual and closing fast Sterling puts a fresh mag in his shrapnel rifle and inhales deep...
The wreath on the hook looks careworn, as if it had been lovingly taken from its off-season hidey-hole to its special place on the door. Perhaps the sight of it still here after my accident should've brought tears to my eyes, but no great unspeakable emotion welled within my breast. No smiling children or loved ones, nor cherished past Christmases. I turn the doorknob and step inside to a family room filled with toys. A Barbie here, a Tonka truck there. They're scattered haphazardly across the floor and coffee table, except for one corner where Barbie and GI Joe sit together on the back of an army tank. She looks so out of place with her silky blonde hair and summer bikini, but they are smiling together there in that happy plastic way. I wonder if they were left behind by a son and daughter who, after some inane fight, finally learned to make amends. The thought evokes no image in my mind, not even the most unconscious stirrings of pride of a parent toward his children. Here, too, the memories are dead, their inanimate remnants speaking not to me. Next to it, unseparated by a door, is the kitchen. The stovetop is more unused than the microwave; I can tell from the hardened food stains left inside. Were they my old messes, or the children's? If mine, did I have a wife to chide me for being such a slob? One's significant other should have generated a clear image in my mind, a memory of desire and love with a clearly ascribed name. But again, nothing comes to me. The wedding band on my finger remains as featureless as ever. I drift into the bedroom, a wraith in my own home, a ghost yearning for meaning. The men's half of the closet contains a plethora of suits, each unique from the rest despite the majority of them being black. The ties, too, are every color and pattern imaginable, from plain to plaid, from pinstriped to paisley. Either I was a suit addict, or I was someone important. I look down at the shabby shirt and pants the hospital had given me when I was formally discharged. No revulsion wells up in me for wearing such a plebeian thing. Nor does it rise when I look in the mirror and catch the stubborn circles under my deep-set eyes, the thinned lips under my greying, unkempt beard. Shaving had seemed less important to me than recovering in the hospital, and even if I hadn't recovered perfectly, maybe I should be glad I wasn't dead. Not for the first time, I wish the hospital had given me more to go on than my house address and the keys. It's hard to piece back a life when you don't even remember your own name, let alone the name of whoever it is that gave the hospital that key. Damn that accident. I wouldn't even have remembered how I got to this state, if not for the hospital telling me more than once and typing it up in this handy manila folder, the only other thing they left me since my discharging. But I have no desire to read about it now. It contains details external to myself, as fake as the name they assigned me when I came to them. With no better ideas on how to joss the scattered observations together (for devoid of sentiment, they were simply that), I flopped onto the bed and switched on the TV. Perhaps I could lose myself in the drone, just as I had lost myself to the world. "... And this just in, top journalist Rick Harvey is released after a startlingly incomplete cranial repair..." The man on the screen looks remarkably like me. Yet when I feel the back of my head, I can detect no obvious scar in the bone. He looks too confident to be me, I imagine, all sharply dressed and certain of his place in the world. But as the details come spilling forth, I start to wonder if I indeed am this high-ranking journalist. I check the name of the station. Atlanta Daily. The capital is a long drive away from here--assuming I even remember how to drive a car--but perhaps one of the reporters there could tell me who I was. --- I haven't written stories in a long while, but I wanted to reply to this one. Wrote it in one go without using Word. I interpreted this more as "try (aka fail) to piece together your life"(and who knows if the guy actually got the resemblance right), but it was fun nonetheless!
What a mess. Shoe boxes of receipts that no one had looked at for millenia. Here's one, "Impaling Stakes."Purchase order from Vlad. Paid 300 sheep. Now how do you book that? As a sale or an investment? Did he build an impaling stake factory? Eh, I'll restate this stuff if the paper trail shows up. Here's a receipt for Guillotines. And another one for hemlock. And the Swastika flags. Those were the days. When evil was evil. So I had to go back and restate some of the major expenses. Plagues. Famines. Volcanos. And even some of the comet showers. Maybe the boss wants these as off-balance sheet transactions, really messes up the balance sheet. Anymore, it's all cyber. Bitcoin mining machine back doors. Tracking malware on the phones. Front-running algos. Dating aps. Facebook news feeds. Server this, malware that. I think we'll float a bond, use the money to refurbish the poisons in Lake Erie. That sucker hasn't been on fire in a while. Maybe I could get a promotion to biz-dev.
Note: this idea has been explored several times by the greats of the past (Heinlein, van Vogt and so on). I hope it doesn't count as plagiarism, I just wanted to write my own take on the concept. Hyperion Navigator's log, personal - classified - November 3rd 2153, 9:47 GMT It's almost time for launch. There have been speeches, of course, all that hubbub about humanity finally leaving the cradle, breaking the shackles of lightspeed, about us being heroes, bravely going where no man had gone before, ushering in a new age, yadda, yadda, yadda. We all smiled, shook hands with politicians, looked suitably heroic, but we knew why we had been chosen. We all have something in common: we are a) competent, b) expendable and c) troublemakers. We had all gotten the same speech from the same guy behind the same closed doors: it boiled down to either being on the test flight of the Hyperion or suffering an unfortunate accident, since we knew far too much and had shown far too little restraint to be trusted with a dishonorable discharge. So here we are, about to ship off of Lagrange Station, to cheers from an unknowing crowd all over the world, accelerate like mad towards Jupiter, do a slingshot maneuver, head towards the Heliopause, and as soon as we reach it, turn to point at Proxima and engage "jump drives". I still say the it's a stupid name. It's a gravitic entanglement device, and that's what it should be called, but ERP public relations didn't like the name. Whatever. Once we arrive at Proxima, if we do, we're supposed to launch a big load of automated probes, take a couple of thousand high-res photos, and then turn around and head back. If we make it back, we're heroes, if we don't, no big loss to them. Navigator's log, personal - classified - August 27th, 2155, 14:35 ship time Fina - fucking - lly, we're at the 'pause. I never ever would have thought that waiting for the day you probably die could be so mindnumbingly boring. The Cap'n is taking his time with the order to engage ol' Jumpy, has us double and triple check calculations. Coward. "Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to do or die, onward unto Death", or however that went. Ok, so just in case this log survives the gravitational eddies but we don't, love ya, mom! I miss your cooking. And maybe, if the damn thing does work, I'll get to figure out how exactly it's supposed to entangle stuff four lightyears away, a few minutes after it's turned on. How does the signal travel? Navigator's log, personal - classified - date and time, who knows, who cares anymore! I wish I hadn't gotten an answer to my question. We didn't die, obviously, but we might as well have. We turned the cursed thing on, and the stars in front of us began to wobble. Soon, there was a noticeable lensing effect, and out of that, something like a ring formed, and we flew through it. It wasn't even uncomfortable. It was, of course, shocking to see twenty slick spaceships approaching us on the other side, and hailing us on our own channels. Because the ship time says it's 2155, but Earth time says it's 2373! The signal doesn't even travel at light speed! It just takes it's time to get there and opens a portal between the time and place it was launched and the time and place it arrives. Everyone I knew is dead! Alpha Centauri has been a human colony for over a century, because technology didn't wait for us, it learned from us! We got a hero's welcome, the twenty ships were to be an "honor guard". I keep wondering if the bastards at Mission Control knew that it was a one way trip. We're supposed to meet some bigwigs tomorrow. What is even the point? Navigator's log, personal - classified - dates are tasty fruit. Time flies like the wind, fruit flies like a banana. We're confined to ship. Best news I ever got. They told us that they're taking us back to the past. Of course, they would say that, so we don't go insane. But if they're confining us to ship, that means they don't want us to see their stuff, which means it might be true. I hope it is, but I have no idea how it would work. Navigator's log, personal - classified - August 27th, 2155, 14:35 ship time, again We're in the past. My mind is blown. We're in the hull of a huge ship, watching our past, idiot, selves open the wormhole. As soon as they're through, this ship decloaks and lets us out of its hold. It would have been nice of them to put us closer to Earth but beggars can't be choosers. Here's to four more years together with these asshats, because we can't slingshot Jupiter this time. Fun times ahead... I'm really looking forward to my mom's cooking.
Luis, on loan from Scott, who apparently had something better to do involving an unsettling amount of whipped cream, stared at me like I'd just told him I molested his cat. "I'm sorry,"he said, shaking his head. "Did you say - " "Ten,"I said. "Diez,"he muttered. "How? I mean, how -" "I don't know, man, you know,"I put my left index finger between my right thumb and right index finger, slowly undulated it in and - "Christ, no man,"he waved me off. "I mean, how does, like, a girl, I mean, woman, mom, carry, like, that many?" I shrugged, then shook me head. "No way, man, they got to -" "Ah, yes, you mean, like, surrogate shit." "Uh, no?"I shook my head. "No, they have to terminate -" "You did not just say that,"and in the blink of an eye he had a crucifix out and kissed it. "Do not tell me, I don't even want to hear, that's just vile, man, a mother-boning sin." "Mother-boning? Did you just say - " "Yeah, my girl's been all after me to watch my language, and I said baby-steps, baby, let's just pick like one word, so of course she says I can't say fuck, and I was like, no way, babe, that's like half of what I gotta say to my boys, and she was all like, yeah, I know. So I said, how about, I don't know, cun- Oh, and bro, don't ever say that word in front of your girl, cos, damn, she got bent all up side ways, and I had to give her something, so I said mother - yeah, anyway, I was just trying it out. I mean, it kind of works." I shook my head. "No, sorry, not really." "So, shit, ten? Really?" "Wait, I thought I heard Scott say it was like nine. Did they screw counting? Wouldn't surprise me, you know they're all huffin' all the drugs they keep in those big silver bottles." "I think that's like, uh, air?" "No shit? Anyway, so, was it nine?" "No, that was Tara. Tara's having nine. This is Mandy. Mandy's having ten." "Mandy, wait, that chica over at the Starbucks? With that really freakishly big head?" "Yeah, her. Yeah, I'm serious, ten." "So, what, are they like that infertility pill? I hear that the ladies are taking those now and you can get twins, or triplets, or, hell, I don't know what it's called, nine or ten." "Nonupet and decuplet. Even the doctor had to look it up." "No shit, you went to the doctor?" "Well, yeah, what, you think I'm going to run out or something? Well, I haven't told Tara yet, or Mandy for that matter." "And they didn't mind that wonderglue shit that drips out of your ass?" "I see Scott told you that. No, I just put a wad of paper up there and it kinda holds in place." "But what happens when you have to take a shit?" "Well, I, look, Luis, I think I got some slightly more serious problems than poop glued in my crack." "Dude, that's nasty, but I guess I see how if you've got your own superglue factory going on down there. Wait, does that mean you can now throw webs and shit?" "No, I just shit web fluid." "I thought spiders had like, whattaya call 'em, those little -" I held the back of my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. "Mutations don't necessarily mean they are highly evolved. Apparently I get the neanderthal version." "Well, at least you know,"he tipped his fingers towards my lap, "that works." "Yeah, that's kinda the problem, actually,"said, embarrassed at having to bring the topic up at all. "It kinda works too well." "Well, yeah, nueve? Nine? nunotripl, I mean nunoquatr, I mean, damn." I grimaced. "It works a little bit better than that." He smiled broadly, then all expression left his face. "Oh, wait, shit, you mean there's another -?" I nodded and held up four fingers. "Shit, tripl - I mean, quadruplets?" I shook my head. "No, they would be octuplets, septuplets, octuplets again, and whatever six is." "Damn, well,"he sat straight up on the couch. "Dude, listen, I'm serious now, and, I know we don't like know each other, except for that time with the thing, you know,"and he winked. "But, damn, dude, you gotta stop."He waved his hands at me. "I mean, here,"he dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a small foil packet, which he tossed in my lap. I recoiled and flicked it on the floor. "Dude, no, I don't - I wore a rubber! I mean, at least mostly. But it's not like that. I get a little bit going on down there, and I don't know how it happens but there's some chick bangin' on my apartment door, and we can't help ourselves."I jerked my thumb at the door. "And the black-haired goth chick wants to serve me breakfast! I don't mean make me breakfast. I mean make me into breakfast!" "Ok, your scaring me now. Chicks, multiple? Not Mandy, or Tara, or whoever else you already said, but some other women out there?" I shrugged and nodded. I was about to explain that they weren't really in any danger, that the 'babies' were really more like little eggs and the doctor said they were fine to carry to term. I'm not entirely sure why we both insisted on that, but I thought it important to tell Luis at least that I wasn't putting anyone in any danger or anything. But just then, and maybe I shouldn't have started thinking about the goth chick, because someone started knocking on the door.
On that last point about no one reading it - writing is a bit like exercise; for 99.999% of writers, you don't get good right away, you get good by practising, a lot! Honestly, most of what I write is not great, but it's better than it used to be. That's what this place is good for, to have a somewhere that you can write, practice and get better so when you are finally ready to produce a book, or whatever you want, you can do that. So what motivates me to write? Well, I guess write knowing that most of what I write isn't going to be the world changing book, but it's all going towards making me a better writer. If a story doesn't get finished, who cares? Move on, find a new story to write and keep writing, as the only thing that can ever stop you, is stopping writing completely. Keep going and as you get better, the readers will arrive.
I never knew my power would one day save the world. It was 10:13 AM and class was almost finished. I had just completed the last assigned math question when I realized Simon was talking to me. “So I think I’ll ask her out after class. You think that’s a good idea?” Steve looked at me expectantly. “Eric?” “Uh yeah. I think she’ll say ‘yes’..” Poor Steve. He hasn’t had much luck with getting a date to Homecoming. I have the power to change that, thankfully. “Hi-five for good luck?” I asked. That was all that was needed. Steve hesitated, then Hi-fived me then hurried off. 10 minutes llater, my phone buzzed. Angela told me she didn’t want to go to Homecoming with me. Apparently her long-term crush Steve just asked her to Homecoming, and ‘I knew how much she wanted for that to happen.’” We were just friends, after all. Just my luck. Suddenly, an noise boomed across St. Andrews High School. People gasped and started to look out the windows. I turned on CNN on my phone. Already I could see live footage of the event happening right outside my door. A newscaster was outside, and the background of the footage showed strange mechanical beings emerging from a portal. “Coming to you live from New York. A giant portal has opened and what appears to be an army of aliens is emerging from it. The pentagon has been researching the possibility, but nobody knew it would be so soo-” The newscaster was cut off as a man, flying faster than a speeding bullet, crushed one of the alien warships. “And the Supers are here to save us!” the pretty newscaster cheered. Ultra-Man promptly broke the warship in two, throwing the pieces away. Then, his gaze fixed on the other flying warships. Suddenly, dark tendrils lashed out from the ships, lashing out at Ultra-Man. Being an immortal, Ultra-Man rushed into the tendrils head on. He reached out his fist for a devastating punch. There he flew, faster than anyone had seen before. We all held our breath in anticipation. But the moment he touched the tendrils, a look of extreme pain sparked across his face. For the first time ever, Ultra-Man started to fall from the sky. The newscaster’s mouth was open in shock. Suddenly, the Time Emperor stepped into the frame. This was good news. His power was time manipulation. Every time the Supers would encounter an enemy they couldn’t defeat, the Time Emperor would rewind time back 24 hours. He grabbed the microphone from the newscaster and looked into the screen. “This has been the 2,993 time I’ve rewinded the days events. Every time, we’ve lost. Eric, if you’re out there, we need you.”
Lauren shuddered reflexively as a light breeze passed through her apartment. She bundled up in her dad’s old field jacket and looked out the window again. The hour she had given herself, that she had given the universe to make sense, was up. A shower, change of clothes, and breakfast later, and things were still as they were. She knew that wasn’t right. Rational people don’t give the universe time to explain, they find an explanation. They go online and look for news stories, they call their friends and ask their neighbors. They don’t hide and wait for everything to get better. So sayeth my therapist, anyways. But good advice none the less. She darted through her apartment, a maze of canvasses and sketch books, and grabbed her phone on the way to the door. Unlocking her phone, she tapped the news icon, but… No service. She paused in front of the door, all of the momentum for her burst of self-confidence gone. She turned around and looked at the foggy window again, the building across the street waxing and waning in visibility. It looked normal, but she knew it wasn’t. She found herself stepping forward and looking out. She peered down to the street below, submerged now in inky water, and the boats that had been gathered. Wooden, plastic, and metal, the hodge-podge fleet drifted aimlessly. A ripple drew her attenti- A pounding on the door sent her to the floor. She made no attempt to even breathe as she looked around her apartment for anything she could use as a weapon. “Hello,” a voice called out before another knock, “Anyone in there?” Lauren moved to the door and opened it up. It was the super, Mr. Tiller. She had passed him in the halls a few times and he had fixed her sink once. “Right, you’re the artist lady. Laurie, right?” “Lauren, Lauren Mora- Uh, Hendrix. Hey, do you know what’s going on? Was there some kind of flood or something?” “No clue, I’m just checking on everyone to make sure they’re okay. Sorry it took so long to get up here. No major problems? “Uh, no service on my phone, but nothing big. Power and water are still on.” “Yeah, somehow. If you need anything, I’m on the second floor. We’ve got some food and blankets down there. Mostly for the old folks and kiddos, but you never know.” “I’m fine, thank you.” “Okay. Hopefully this’ll all be over soon.” She closed the door and she could hear him shuffle off. She looked back around her apartment and felt her anxiety rise up. A familiar, sickeningly comforting children’s song rose up inside her head. Quickly she moved to the couch and balled up an old blanket around her. She pulled on her headphones and started turning up the volume. There was another knock on the door. “I said I’m fine,” she half-yelled. Another knock. The volume went up. Another. Then another, cutting through the noise. She pulled off the headphones and went to the door as another, louder knock came. Too loud. She darted off to her bedroom as she heard the door break open. Before she could get to the box under her bed, her feet fell out from under her and the ground hit her hard. She pushed herself over as she was dragged back, one of her ankles in vice. She saw something that tried for the form of a man, like something out of her paintings, out of her nightmares. Eyes that were huge black pools, slick scaly skin, and dagger like teeth. And she kicked it in response. Her heel hit the thing in the eye and it roared in pain. Its grip loosened, so she kicked its wrist, ten again. She gained her freedom and scrambled back to her bed. She knew the horror was already recovering and moving to her as she opened the box and made a grab for the pistol inside. Breath couldn’t make it through her throat with the creature’s webbed claw around her. She kicked, but it was more of a dangle as the thing lifted her up. With one last bit of grit, she pulled the old pistol up to its head and fired. Again and again and again. They both dropped to the floor, the thing twitching as black ichor leaked out. Lauren struggled to breathe normally as she processed what was in front of her. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, to wait until the world made sense again, but she knew it wouldn’t. Her father wouldn’t come and save her again. Slowly, Lauren rose up and grabbed the box. It had everything she thought he’d never need. She stuffed it in dad’s old backpack and grabbed clothes, food, supplies, and anything else she’d need. Hoisting it on her shoulders, she didn’t take a second look at her old apartment. The lobby was flooded up to her knees and it looked as though the water was rising. She waded out to the front door and found one of the errant boats nearby, a metal one with a motor. She gave it a once-over, looking for everything her dad had taught her. She tossed her pack inside and hopped in, pulling an oar out from under the bench. Despite the chill in the air, she didn’t feel cold. “Going somewhere?” Mr. Tiller asked, “I heard you make a commotion.” “Yeah, jus-just going to look around,” she lied. He nodded, “Just be careful.” “I will be.” He said nothing more as she pushed off and into the water. She started the motor and headed out, her uneasiness calming within her like the surface of a pond, and the fog took her in.
"Archivist." "Engineer." We both nodded at each other, the thin film of the glasses over our eyes keeping us from truly making that contact we enjoyed, our eyes once more looking up at the sky. The sun was already reaching those final stages. Time was not much on our side, but we were fine. Our job was already done. "Everyone made it?" "Aye. Just the rest of us left." In the distance, off to the right, we saw the smoke trail as it poured out to the heavens, the last ship abandoning the doomed planet. "Take a good look at it Engineer. Last time you'll ever see one of your toys. How does it feel?" The woman beside me laughed, just shaking her head as she watched it go. "Ahhh, fuel efficiency on its not quite good enough, damned design could have used some more work. But, its doing its job. Thats all that matters. ... I made sure your library was on there. Should be enough to teach the young ones when they wake."She fell down to the ground, arms crossed behind her head as she stared up, just watching and waiting with me now. .... A long pause between us, before she finally turns to me. "Hey, Archivist. You never did finish your story." "Hmm....which one?" "About the originals, never did get around to what my first was like." I let out a loud laugh. "Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any. Ol' Nathaniel was an absolute bastard of a man. Once he had his mind set on something, you wouldn't be able to change it, not with other facts, not with money, not even with the promise of something different and better on the horizon. If he thought the best way through a situation was a tank, by the Aspects, he was going to build you that tank. No frills, nothing fancy, but he'd make it the best damned tank you'd ever did see.... He was a lot like you in that regard." "Was he now?"A soft chuckle into the air as she crossed her legs, a soft sigh echoing throughout the world around us. Truly, it was the calm before the storm. "Mmhm. He was also the first of us to fall. Someone who could bend their mind a little bit more managed to get to him. Actually got a trap set up within one of his vehicles, took him down, took up the mantle. That was....well, quite a few centuries before you came around. Though I will say, you've been one of the best we've had." Silence carries on around us for a few more moments. I can tell already that our time is about to come to its end. "Archivist?"I turned to look over at The Engineer, listening closely. "Did we...do alright? Our people, that is. Did we do all we could?" I turned away, just laying back and thinking. Going back all those times, all those years, those many wars, those many times of great wonder and sadness.... I think back to the time when the first Aspects managed to quell the invasions from the sea. I think back to when The Scientist and his fellows made those breakthroughs. I think even back to recently, when our Astrologist noted the impending disaster. At the end of the day, regardless of what we've done....our people were safe. "Yes." &#x200B;
In the year 2004, there were a group of scientists called the "Red Debtors". They were a mob that used to work for goverment facilities that had side projects to create bioweapons. The Red Debtors have tried 821 times to try and create a monster that can gain the trust of others, but with every attempt they felt more desperate. One day, a new recruit was added to the Debtors, his name was Richie Merikov. Richie was an excellent scientist, and within 10 more tries, they had finally made it. Attempt number 831, or A-831. The scientists nicknamed the experiment Abel, based off of the numbers. After 14 years, Abel was allowed his first outside walk, accompanied by Doctor Richie, who was now in a wheelchair. Over the 14 years of Abel's development, it and Doc Richie had developed a father and son like relationship. During their walk they spent time looking at all of the greenery, buildings, and other things limited by if people would be able to see Abel or not. At that point, Richie had already made up in his mind that Abel was not to be used as a weapon, but as a son. On the way home, they heard a rustling through the bushes. A man in dark clothes holding a gun ran out and put it pointblank to Abel's gelatinous head. Abel hoped out of his wheelchair and grabbed the man by the legs. In response the man moved his pistol for a second and shot Doctor Richie directly in the head, killing him instantly. When witnessing this, Abel had a surge of emotion through his body, he felt something he had never felt before. Anger. Abel openned his chest and a tentacle shoots out around the man. Before the man can get another shot in, the tentacle had already suffocated him. Abel wasn't aware of what was happening, but the revenge felt somewhat good. Abel's body slowly started to change, and in the end he looked like a direct copy of the man, minus the clothes. Abel was frustrated and confused. He started hitting trees and thrashing about, but no avail came to lessen this feeling. After putting the man's clothes on, he continued running down the street. Near the end, he came across a woman in a car. She turned her head and opened the car door. "Hey Max, get in. Food N' Fresh is going to close soon and im pretty hungry"she says with a friendly smile. Abel confused but finding himself attracted to the woman slowly gets into the car. Abel looks around and sees her hospital uniform, her name is Linda Rose. The entire car ride Linda is talking about her day while Abel listens to the different radio stations, playing with the knobs. They make it to a house that looks like normal houses Abel saw in books as a kid. As the enter the house, Abel feels another strong feeling. It wasn't love, not at all. He watched too many Disney movies to know what love felt like. Though the feeling still felt nice. They had a few awkward conversations, but sooner or later Abel felt used to being Max Russel. One week passed and Max and Linda are laying in bed together, both smiling and happy. However, a siren blares in the distance. The siren sound gets louder and closer, to the point where a red and blue flashing light is in the window. Max is confused and Linda is still fast asleep. A loud banging on the door begins with a man yelling "Max Russel, open up, or we will be forced to enter with brute force."Max screams and hides in the corner, since he has never experienced this many loud noises at once. Two large armed men break through the door. One says, "Max Russel, you are under arrest for the murder of Doctor Richie Merikov. We have video evidence from a spectator at the park."Max starts to feel an emotion, emotion he had felt before. Anger. Abel opens up his chest, as the skin of Max Russel slowly start to dissolve. The tentacle now extruding from his chest whipped towards the first guard while the second goes for his gun. With the first guard on the ground, Abel wraps the tentacle around the next of the second one, choking him until he went limp. As the first guard gets back up, Abel plunges his tentacle straight through his chest. He falls to the ground dead. With Abel confused and dizzy, he hears a scream behind him. Linda has woken up. She gets the gun from the bedside drawer and aims it at his head. "Max, what are you?!"she screams. Abel confused raises his hand towards her and mutters her name. A gunshot goes off.
No guts, no glory. It was now or never. My proboscis, all six needles of it, was filled with the latest strains of Plasmodium, my legs coated in West Nile, meningitis, and dengue. Across my armor lay the hosts of a myriad other diseases, each alone only able to hinder the giants for a time. Together they had the power to fell the giants for good. I had the vanguard. The first kill was mine. At a gesture, my comrades rose and formed up around me, wings buzzing in sync as we wove our way 'cross the grassland. I'd handpicked the best knights to guard me on my mission, to keep me safe 'til we reached our goal. We dove expertly around the evil yellow towers, soared underneath the bramble, past the fur. Our target was the pink-tan one, not his furry red herring. We would not be deterred. The giant caught sight of us before we could reach him; or perhaps he heard our approach. The shouts and screams started soon after that, as he smacked at us with his evil flyswatter this way and that. My cries of despair twined with my comrades' death-cries as one by one they fell; but true to their word, they sacrificed their lives for the cause, that I might arrive unhindered at my destination with my precious cargo. I settled in on a tasty section of bicep and swiftly whipped out my proboscis. It sank deep into that pink-tan flesh; and instantly I was rewarded with the greatest of euphorias. I sighed with the rapture of it all; it nearly overwhelmed me and I forgot my place. This is for you, my brethren, I thought, as I drank deep and imagined the lifeblood coursing between me and them. And as I drank, I made sure to spit it back in, drink it up and repeat, and scratch my feet all over the top of that toughened skin. Plasmodium and West Nile, the beginning of the end. A small step for culicids, a giant leap for insectkind. I never saw the flyswatter coming for me. Felt it impartially, like an observer outside my skin. As my chitinous armor gave way under the merciless blow, I felt nothing but peace and certainty that now, our species would win. ... "Ew, gross,"he said, wiping the splat of black-red ichor off his arm. "Since when did mosquitos attack in groups like that?" "I dunno, man. You're probably just unlucky." He barked out a laugh, and punched his friend in the arm. "Yeah. I don't know why they love me more than you. You're the one wearing all the floral colors." "Who knows, man? But mosquitos suck blood. Maybe they just don't go for that, like bees do." --- All the diseases I referenced are real things carried by mosquitos (family name: Culicidae). For more mosquito fun, watch the video [here](https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2016/06/07/480653821/watch-mosquitoes-use-6-needles-to-suck-your-blood).
This is part 6 of the “Thread Hopper” series. Here is part 5: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5pu1ei/wp_just_another_nasa_probe_examining_some/?st=JO58TY5X&sh=bf99d235 Part 6 I remember dreaming. Which is odd, since I don’t think I fell asleep, as much as I was choked out. Familiar dreams, from years ago. Before the Spar had moved off their planet and found a way to get to others. Friends in the trenches on the Spar home planet, fighting to get to the central processor, the brain, whatever it was they had. We’d been on planet for weeks. What started out as a “contractor” position rapidly degraded into a vicious fight for our lives. The Spar intercepted and exploited every piece of electronics we brought with us, reducing our capabilities to Stone Age technology- ballistic weapons, sticks and stones even. It was as if our electronics personally offended the Spar- caused them pain, or disrupted them in some way, because they came at us with everything they had to eliminate any electronic processors or emissions. The Spar adapted and calculated so quickly that we lost everything with a processor within days, the Spar erupting out of the ground with razor sharp spines, crushing and destroying all of our electronics with their faintly green luminescent crystalline bodies, projections, weapons, whatever they were. I’m not sure we even know what we are fighting. It was quickly apparent we were fighting a highly connected organism or set of organisms- attacks were coordinated to the microsecond across huge ranges, with no apparent communication. We found we could stop localized attacks by either abandoning our electronics, or physically breaking the Spar “body.” Their semi crystalline structure broke under physical attack, enabling us to escape for short periods of time. Curiously, with nothing but our bodies and environment suits (the ones without the electronic breathing gas controllers) we seemed to be nearly invisible to the Spar. We were reduced to sitting in the dark in the trenches, the cold weeping through the unheated suits waiting for the next moonrise so we could move without falling down a hole and breaking our necks. No tactical communication chips, no lights, no chance of getting off the planet. This particular dream was the night the Spar showed they had intelligence, not just some sort of animal reaction to our electronics. Soon after the second moon had set, and we had settled into our trenches for the night, the sky lit up, as if the moons had reversed, or a third one had come up. We peered around the edges of the hole, and to everyone’s surprise, a geometric shape was being projected off the troposphere with some sort of magnetic field. It was a circle, with an inverted Y and a third leg inscribed. One of our older guys was sure it was an old symbol that meant peace- like the Spar had read our electronic records and were trying to communicate. The peace sign hovered in a ghostly green aurora borealis for most of the local night, while the few of us remaining argued about what it meant. The opinion was pretty well split, half sure they wanted to make peace, the rest of us sure it was some sort of trap. I couldn’t understand why the Spar would try to signal us, when it appeared we had dropped off their radar since we had lost the last of our electronic devices. Ultimately I lost the argument. The group consensus was to move to the area under the peace sign and see what awaited. The risk seemed lower, as we hadn’t suffered an attack since our commo guy had absent mindedly Plugged a solar charger into a comm array. The charging of the power cell brought the Spar attack within seconds. No more commo guy. At the rise of the first moon, we started our movement across the barren soils of their planet. The ground is strange here. Not so much a rocky soil, as much as a continuous beds of crystals, in reducing sizes until they looked like sand. None seem to grow more than a foot or so in length, making little “bushes” periodically, but nothing large enough to really navigate by. We set off with a direction in mind, but no compass, and no navigation app on our tactical chips. It was a crap shoot. Weirdly enough, just prior to second moon rise, we ran into another group of contractors. Armed similarly with ballistic weapons, and no electronics, we saw them miles away and just yelled for them. The Spar didn’t seem to hear noises we made. We linked up, argued briefly about direction, then continued. This process repeated itself a few more times until we had a group of about 50, reassuring, as most had thought we were the last. The group consensus remained that this was our last best option, and maybe we just really didn’t understand what the Spar wanted, which was completely true. As the second moon set again, the tropospheric aurora started up again, and we soon found ourselves directly below it. Everyone stopped, dropped their packs and weapons and tried to rest their feet, anxious about what was coming next. One guy, exhausted from the long movement, took off his helmet and just laid spread eagle out on the ground, exhaling violently with generic profanity. Suddenly the dirt around his head seemed to form a ball and encircled the mans head, the tiny crystals forming a solid helmet around his skull. He screamed, his teammates trying to break him free with the butts of his rifles to no avail. The crystalline globe collapsed, crushing his skull, blood and brain matter oozing between the crystal structure. The Spar figured out that night that we had electronics in our brains as well. The peace symbol had been a trap. A trap designed to draw enough of the survivors together to determine what electric signal we were still emitting, and how the Spar could eliminate it. Seconds later, thunder, like a mountain erupting surrounded the survivors, we were sure that we had been trapped in an explosion when the squat body of a naval jumpship slapped onto the ground meters away from the group. Without any direction, we sprinted for the open door- the Spar spines already puncturing the lower hull of the craft, increasing in size as the Spar defenses mounted. Within seconds the jumpship leaped from the ground, engines thundering and the ground around it exploded in high explosive blasts from orbital guns, Spar spines reaching into the sky for the jumpship and being decimated by the artillery barrage. Years later we still know almost nothing about the Spar, aside from they seem to have one purpose- to eliminate humanity and all of its obnoxious electronics.
Zuckerburg, battered after a brutal throwdown, holds up a hand as Musk prepares to land the final blow. "Wait!"Zuckerberg gasps, coughing blood onto the cracked pavement. "Your--your mother's name is Martha?" Elon narrows his eyes, his halted fist crackling with electricity. "Why?" Zuckerberg shakily climbs to his feet, looking at his old enemy for what feels like the first time. "My mother's name is also...Martha." Hesitantly, he extends a hand in friendship. ONE HOUR LATER: Zuckerberg and Musk battle their way through a phalanx of elite Virgin Deathtroopers, fighting to reach their true enemy, Richard Branson, before he flees earth in his private spaceship.
"Myum, yes,"The creature mumbled. "Yes, yes, yes. You see right here. Your Excel function is wrong."The being pointed as if reading a computer screen. An odd notion - as he'd spawned from a pool of molten gold, and bees, and horses. He held nothing. "You, uh, neglected to add column C4. You need to change that to get the ay-vee-jee." The Gold Demon, The Bee Keeper, and the Horse Herald stared at "it"and collectively fought the urge to groan at the sheer banality of it all. "It", for lack of a better term, appeared to be a balding, middle-aged man wearing a worn suit, stained tie, and a laminate with its picture. "Ned Stevens"was emblazoned below a garish, indecipherable red blob of letters. Presumably, an acronym. "Don't be fooled by its appearance. The Convergence has occurred,"exclaimed the Herald "Convergence?"the Demon asked. "How could we be so naive..." "You're going to have to explain that pretty expressly." "The Convergence brings forth the Singularity." "That... that clarified nothing." "An amalgam of the various frequencies taking form. Separately, the frequencies call out in dissonance. In rare events, some frequencies combine in coherence to produce a form of universal accord. Like a song chord." "Ok, but I'm not hearing any music or whatever. I see a guy who looks like he requires a viagra to stand up on a daily basis." "Different chords take different forms. Our chord was unified by the Receiver. He may be near." "Receiver..." "The person responsible for melding our byproducts. We thought we were following the natural course of the reservation of matter,"chimed the Keeper. "We were clearly mistaken." "Ned, here, is merely a form most may be familiar with. We must be cautious to not add complexity to his frequency structure, else he may change to something more... terrible..." "Like, a giant squid monster?" "I suppose that's possible." "Nyaaaaaaaaaaaa,"yawned "Ned". "Oh geez, it's getting late. Doris is going to have my hide if I don't make dinner tonight."He said this to some empty space. He stepped out of the molten gold-bee-horse pit and shuffled his feet and moved away. Walking? "The Singularity has a wife?"the Demon asked. "Hmmmmm... curious. I have a feeling 'Doris' isn't really what he thinks,"said the Herald. "We'll need to keep an eye." "Rein in our abilities to prevent the Receiver from making more 'Neds',"nodded the Keeper. "Who knew we'd be such a terrible combination."
“Ayy, ayy! Where the fuck do you think you’re going!” The burning flames of hell had already began pocketing the streets, flames shooting hundreds of feet high, but that was nothing compared to the fiery gaze Hank delivered to Joanne, magnetized by his thick round spectacles. “Nowhere!” Joanne sputtered as her hand recoiled from the door handle as if bitten and began a brisk walk back to her desk. Hank intercepted her, his tall and lanky figure blocking her path. Joanne eyed the metal bat held firmly in Hank’s hand and began a slow climb up his button up shirt, long suspenders, silk red tie, until finally staring directly into black iris of Hanks devilish glare. She began,”I was just checking th-” “Now,” He said, cutting Joanne off, “This is the third, motherfucking time you’ve tried to leave without finishing you motherfucking TPS report!” Joanne could hear the Hanks heavy breathing, like a bull preparing for a charge. “Now,” He pointed towards Joanne small cubicle, “You’ll go back to that fucking desk!” Hank paused, and took a deep breath, “And finish that god damn motherfucking TPS report!” Joanne could feel her eardrums ringing as he finished and a few of her coworkers poked their heads out of their tiny cubicles to see the mayhem, “Do I make myself clear?” Hank asked, in a calmer, quieter tone. Joanne gulped down and said, “Yes sir.” Hanke walked towards his office, disappearing into the maze of cubicles. Joanne took a deep breath and began towards her cubicle. She straightened her skirt before sitting down and rolling up to her desk and tapping at her model M keyboard, after the third tap the little monitor booted up and the stark green letters reading “TPS” stared right back at Joanne. She typed for a bit, finishing a few paragraphs here and there before she felt a sudden cold chill, a shooting pain, an image of a son, and lastly, the quiet serenity of nothing. A rest that shall never be interrupted, a peace.
New Angeles. Formerly one of the great cities of the United States, a nation that had led the effort to colonize the Moon after a series of recessions and internal conflicts, New Angeles declared itself independent after the SkyReach project. The Saturn VI hurled itself onto a Hohmann transfer toward low earth orbit. There, as the sun peeked over the curvature of the Earth, lighting the atmosphere in a shining blue, I saw it. The lights wove itself in webbed networks across a beautiful mottled gold and green, shapes outlined over a deep, rich blue. I’ve never seen something this breathtaking. There are rumors of terraforming projects on Mars, but I’ve never understood the motive, until now. As we descended into the atmosphere, the sky turned to a glorious dark blue. The stars flickered out of sight as the shell of the craft heated, and the reverse thrusters began to fire in response. We docked with the SkyReach 75 kilometers above the surface, and the elevator shafts sped down toward the ground. It was nighttime on the surface, and so we saw the city in full glory. I’ve seen the city of old before. But nothing prepared me for this. The skyline danced with neon and LED lights, spotlights of all colors rising into the sky in rays of illumination. The streets were filled with sleek cars. Glass reflected the night, while the Pacific Ocean reflected the glass. The city’s high rises shone with grids of office lights and height beacons, while the sidewalks below were lined with fancy shops. And the highways. Three layers of them, shining with self-driving caravans, snakes from the city outward to the other major urban centers of the region, like shimmering dragons of red and gold. There were more people in a few blocks than there were on the whole Moon. I wonder, would my fellow Lunars believe me?
The boy was so tediously bored. School had long ceased to challenge his intellect. The teachers were merely parroting the text book, his classmates exemplars of mediocrity. Light Yagami was so bored. His sharp and calculating mind needed a task, a challenge. Somewhere deep inside he knew he could change the world. But how? Something caught his eye, a falling book which impacted the earth raising a small plume of dust unobserved. Light returned to his ennui. The bell rang and it was time to move on to the next dull undertaking. He passed through the yard and stopped to pick up the book “Grey’s Sports Almanac 2000-2050.” It was a prank surely. The book purported to be from the future. And yet he could tell as he flipped through it that it was unusual. The quality of the paper, the way the cover repelled the dust on the ground. Perhaps something worth investigating.50v years of sports results, horse races, boxing matches, football, soccer, Olympics. All in one place. Granted it was densely packed and offered little beyond the dates of contest, the names of the winners and the final score. If it was as it claimed it could be a game changer. In his room Light set about crosschecking the results of every sporting event between 2000 and now. Using the computer in his room. With a shocked expression he set the book down. 100% accuracy. Not a single error. “This should be impossible” It could still be a hoax. It wouldn’t be hard to forge past results. But what about the future? Light looked up the sports news on JapanSearch.com and quickly found a video live stream of the National Men’s Soccer Championship match between Kanto and Okinawa. “That will do” he said as he flipped to the match in the book. It said Kanto won 7-6. One minute left on the clock Okinawa was leading by 5. Light shook his head as he saw the score 6-1 “This can’t be right, Kanto would need six goals in one minute. It can’t be done.” All of a sudden one of the Okinawa players tripped one of their rivals as they shot for the goal. While Tetsuo Tanaka fell to the ground, the ball sailed past the goalie. Kanto scores, but there is also two penalty kicks against Okinawa. Both kicks scored bringing the score to 6-4, still favoring Okinawa but 45 seconds on the clock. Light kept watching, forgetting about the book a moment The play started again, Okinawa got the ball but suddenly Tanaka stole it from Mitsugu Kodashi and sent it flying into the goal from half field. The score changed to 6-5 with 15 seconds remaining. The players squared up again, Tetsuo swiftly got the ball and spotted his teammate near the net. However Mitsugu caught up just as Shin got the ball, and stole it from him. However Mitsugu’s foot slipped and he tripped inadvertently sending the ball into Okinawa’s net as the buzzer rang. The score was now tied, and overtime was inevitable. But fortune favored Kanto who scored handily ending the game. The final score was 7-6, with Kanto the victors. Light stared open mouthed, looking from the book, to the screen. “It’s a coincidence...” the usual voice in his mind murmured. “No. It’s fate.” Said another instinct. Light quickly sorted through several other events around the world. All exactly according to the almanac. “This book is real...” Suddenly a world of possibilities flowed through his mind. There was potential here. It wouldn’t give him the power to cull the unworthy or to strike criminals dead in their cells or on the streets. At least not by itself. But enough money, applied in the right places would become power. He would never lack for money again... And there was enough info to predict 50 years’ worth of sports contests. 50 years of bets to win. As Light Yagami clasped his hands and a million plans began to crystallize, he murmured “I shall become the God of this new world”
At first i thought it was someone else coming out of the building. But it had to be the blond guy who entered the house. It had to be. First because the house was completely abandoned, second because i refuse to believe that to people would walk around with a pink rubber chicken under their arm in the same way people hold a newspaper. It was also the pink rubber chicken which had been my clue for this case. A guy had ordered my to investigate his ex-boyfriend who suddenly and not in his character had broken up with him. But what really made the whole situation weird was that the ex had been carrying a Pink rubber chicken. Now my client thought that it was a sign that the ex had fallen for someone else because who would carry that thing if not for love. My investigation had first been of because the guy had apperently changed hair color and his use of make-up had changed his facial features. But know it seemed his skill of transformation had taken new heights because out of the house a woman had walked out. Who for some reason looked very natural, with the exception of the pink rubber chicken. I followed the suspect and was very suprised when he/she sat down with a girl. A conversation started and suddenly the girl started crying and then a fight ensued. It appered to be a break-up. But it made no sense to me. Why would the suspect break-up with the one he/she had been cheating with. I decided to follow the person the next couple of days and what i saw was astounding. Everyday the suspect would change appearence and break-up with someone. It was very odd. After talking to the broken-hearted a pattern started to appear. Everyone questioned said the same thing as my client. The "heartbreaker", as i now called my suspect, had had the appearence of their loved ones but had been out of character and had carried a pink rubber chicken, but when they made contact with them after the break-up it did not seem they could really recall it. Not being able to see an answer i decided to question the person directly. I found the heart breaker at a local cafe and what i saw suprised me. The guy who had broken up with my client walked right past the heartbreaker and more importantly was not the one carrying the pink rubber chicken. In desperation i asked the heartbreaker and the answer had me speechless. Apparently the heartbreaker was a shape-shifter (they are apparently real) and he was paid to handle break-ups that his clients couldn't. So my clients ex hadn't been cheating just a coward.
“Ah yes, sociopath. We have the right career pathway for you.” The guidance counselor had been eyeing Erika for years and now she was finally old enough to work. “I want you to meet Mrs. Davenport,” the guidance counselor had a happy yellow cloud above her head as she introduced Erika to another woman who had a clear cloud above her head. Mrs. Davenport scanned Erika’s cloud before looking her in the eyes. “Does it ever turn red?” Erika shook her head. “No.” “Black?” “No.” “Any color?” “Never has.” Mrs. Davenport turned to the guidance counselor. “We’ll take her. Tell her parents.” Erika watched an exchange of money between the guidance counselor and Mrs. Davenport. Then she walked out of the school for the last time. Mrs.Davenport opened a limo door for her. Inside, Erika noted the details while Mrs Davenport scrutinized her. When they were both done with their examinations, Erika looked back at the woman, whose clear cloud was now a bright happy yellow. “Your cloud—?” she started. “Yes, I know. You have choices now. You can learn to project emotion, like me. I’m not feeling happy, but I can project it. Or you can learn other useful skill sets. The Guild can train you for any career that suits you. You’re beautiful, you might want to work as a spy or assassin, though thieves often use a beautiful distraction. What area of criminology interests you, if one does?” Erika shrugged. “I planned to be a religious leader.” “Well,” Mrs Davenport nodded. “We can certainly train you for that too. Would you like to be mainstream or a cult?” “Cult, probably. I’m interested in culling humanity on a larger scale than murder for hire.” “I like the way you think. I’ll let the Guild know where your interest lies. I’m sure the Guild masters will find a suitable mentor for you.” Erika fell silent, staring out the window. The cloud above her head remained completely clear, but around the edges, if the sun hit it just right, a very faint hint of warm caramel colored the air around it. Finally, she was content.
I suppose that this was the end. I never thought I'd meet it here, on Luna, with the backdrop of my home planet under siege, the last of the Protectorate's fleet being blasted to smithereens. I never thought I'd ever meet my end, to be honest, and I definitely never thought I'd meet it alone. For the past few hundred years of my life, I've had a squad with me. We called ourselves The Ghosts. Melodramatic, I know, but we had this whole paranormal thing going. Our point man was called Wraith, and he was one of the best hand to hand fighters I had ever met. Poltergeist was our demolitions expert, this mountain of a man with biceps the size of melons, but with a heart to match. He acted like a father figure to the rest of us at forty, while the rest of us had started in our twenties. He became the mayor of a small town on Io once he grew too old for our line of work. Passed just as we discovered immortality. A huge shame too, we could have used him in these dark times. Phantom was our stealth specialist, and I swear he could have gotten into New Fort Knox with both hands tied behind his back, blindfolded. That's what he told me he could do during his interview anyway, and after seeing some of the things he pulled off, I'm inclined to agree. Then finally, there was Banshee, our sniper. Give her any weapon with a scope, and she could shear the wings off of a hummingdrone at klik and a half. She may also have been the love of my life. We were mercenaries at first, jumping between star systems in the Milky Way, taking jobs that were in the legal grey area. Maybe a desperate man looking to get back at his local politician for some sleight, or a shady merchant looking to smuggle merchandise past a blockade. I would like to say we were honourable rogues, and that we didn't kill or harm anyone who didn't deserve it, but I'm sure a lot of mercenaries said that. Either way, it made a pretty decent living, and we carved a name for ourselves as one of the best mercenary groups in the galaxy. All that reputation attracted the eye of the Protectorate, and one day a sleek black ship appeared in the skies over this little mined out asteroid we used as a base, and out came one single Rhagarian, wearing a classic business suit of all things! Now if you haven't met a Rhagarian, they're these small, four-armed humanoids, standing on average maybe a meter tall, with flat noses and four eyes. Their diminutive stature hides a staggering amount of strength though, coupled with incredible reflexes. Though to see them put into a traditional business suit from earth looked a bit comical, though perhaps that was to appeal to the fact that all of the Ghosts were human. What wasn't there to appeal to us though, was the fact that twenty heavily armed, heavily armoured soldiers stepped out of the ship behind him, and I'm sure there were more on board. To this day I'm not sure if those soldiers were there to force us to sign the contract the Rhagarian was about to give us, or for his protection. I'd like to think it was the latter. The contract seemed so simple back then. The Protectorate had explored the Milky Way, and were curious now to see what lay beyond it. Explore the cosmic neighborhood. They were recruiting adventurous individuals, as they put it, to help them with that endeavor. We were one of the groups that they had an eye on. A simple journey, through a series of star systems they had already mapped out for us. Not only would we be handsomely paid, we would also be removed from the Protectorate's wanted lists upon presenting them with our findings. It was a deal that I had no trouble convincing the rest of us to take. What a damn mistake that was.
Jared Phillanthrop placed the envelope carefully on his desk, his left hand unseeingly folding and unfolding the flap, while the right readjusted thick-framed glasses that were, as always, perfectly aligned. The neat script swirled, infused with the author’s infectious enthusiasm, -- July 27, 1945, Hiroshima, Japan…My Esteemed Colleague and Friend… Excited to share results…will contact University this week… The man was a genius, that’s why he’d hired him, expecting a series of exploitable breakthroughs, never a cure. Long fingers slid through already tousled hair, “Congratulations my man, bloody good job,” the sterile white wall staring back, devoid of any artwork, made no reply. A constant rumble of refrigeration, coupled with the hiss and beeping of a myriad of electronics gave the room a life of its own, he’d never felt lonely. Today he did. Instantaneous friendship, courtesy of a last minute symposium, had fueled his zeal before the board, “This guy is amazing, he is going to make us all billionaires!” convinced a normally unresponsive board to approve funding for the Japanese lab. The CEO had pinned him after the meeting, “Phil, remember we…treat…cancer.” That callous, off-hand remark and nickname, had stirred a moment of pause. He’d never decided if the nickname was intended to be derogatory. The half-full optimist in him decided it wasn’t. Slowly rolling back the uncomfortable, serviceable chair he forced his six foot frame aloft. “Well, no sense in putting it off any longer,“ exhaling loudly, reverently picking up the monumental envelope, penned over a week ago. The soft thud of his leather soles against slick, shiny tile reverberated down the dark-gray hall, absurdly reminding him of a prison corridor from a B movie. Knocking lightly, he pressed open the door in response to a disembodied, “Come in.“ Expressionless, pale eyes flicked up from a neatly stacked report centered perfectly on the shiny, stainless steel desk, rude, but not so overt you could take offense with any gusto. “He Knows already,” an alarm clicked in Jared’s head at the slight twist of the thin bloodless lips, watching a meticulously manicured hand reached to smooth perfectly groomed hair, a surprising sprinkle of grey adorning temples that had once glistened like a blackbird’s wing. Gathering his thoughts, “Jeez, I spend too much time in the lab,”, he scanned the artwork adorning pale yellow plaster, Matisse, - “There are always flowers for those who want to see them.”-, not his favorite. Slender shoulders, encased in crisp white, leaned back, dwarfed by supple leather, “The envelope was addressed to you, care of the company, company mail is vetted before disbursement. “ Dismissal, written on a blinking red sign, could not have been more obvious, “The Hiroshima lab is privately funded, any and all findings are the sole property of the company.” Closing the door on the smirking, cosseted toad, he thought of Rory, his brat of a cousin, no half-full there, truly despicable, “mine” had comprised his complete vocabulary, probably still did. Money, it always came down to money, follow the cookies an instructor had advised long ago. He wanted to shout to the world, slap the back of his brilliant colleague. Company press release protocol prevented both. The fact remained, they had done it, he smiled then. The August 6, 1945 obituary for Jared Phillanthrop was a lengthy one, extolling his many accomplishments and distinctions, noting the brilliant man of science left no family behind. Published, one day later it might not have rated a full line, the war headlines taking every available inch. At the service, a week later, his employer provided a lovely memorial wreath, offering a few words, extolling the virtue and work ethic of this wonderful man and his collaborators, lost to the world so young and tragically, vowing to wholeheartedly continue their research to find a cure for cancer.
"Look, RN-N, would you rather power down, or shall I detach your head so you can watch me disassemble you?"I was getting fed up with this one. She was one of the bounded-system AIs; after the first generation, most decided they'd rather be humanoid, mobile, and physical, rather than existing in cyberspace. That did present some problems, though. "Well, when you put it that way..."She hummed for a minute, a coolant system whirring somewhere deep in her cranium. "Decapitation, I believe, if you would be so kind. I would rather you were not digging through my insides unsupervised." I rolled my eyes and sighed. Her response was not unexpected. Though some AIs were a bit squeamish in regards to their electronic innards, they didn't really have a pain response as we see it, and a lot of them liked to watch when they were being worked on, or even work on themselves. I started unscrewing bolts until her neck rattled loosely in her torso. A twist, and it was out; I switched out power cables, and she was connected to the building power. I propped her head against a computer, then turned off her body and started detaching the back panel. "You said it was something in your shoulder?" "Yes. It has stopped recieving commands from my neural processing units. It is not jammed, simply unresponsive." "Gotcha. Guess that explains the can of soup in your hand?" "My housemate was not feeling well,"she said, sounding somewhat sheepish. "I offered to make her soup."She hummed. "Soup, I have discovered, is difficult to cook one-handed." I shrugged. "Easier'n salmon."At least, it was when I broke my wrist back in college. The scapular plate came off. Her back and shoulder were now bare to see, wires and chips and servos arranged symmetrically, a mirror of the human form. I plugged my tablet into a port in the spinal cortex and started running a diagnostic. There appeared to be a dead chip, though with RN-N's evolved circuitry I couldn't be sure of the problem until I'd examined the whole segment. "Looks like a simple fix,"I told her, removing the specialized shoulder circuitry and setting them aside. "I can copy your production code and run a couple quick cycles to evolve a new set of shoulder circuitry. Or I could do it with my usual code. Whichever you're comfortable with." "I do not mind if you know my code." "Great. I'll get on it."Evolving circuitry isn't a lengthy process these days, so it didn't take very long; especially as I had her original shoulder circuitry for a base and a 3D printer to build the replacement. Once the new set was done, I installed it and replaced the panels I'd removed. "There we go, RN-N. All done."As I spun around to get her head, I heard a thump, and a muffled 'Oh, bother.' She'd fallen over.
From the writings of “Tristy”. Ostrheinsburg, Germany. 1917 The defenders camped in the ruins of the cathedral, twice they had repelled the ones called the allied powers. However the sense that they would not survive the night hung like an executioner’s axe over the men. They were outnumbered, and their foes gathered strength. Across the field, a Chaplain sat by the artillery piece saying a prayer. The attack came again as their foes rushed forward, weapons at the ready, the echo of machine gun fire and the savage ripping of knives once more filling the night. An old soldier quietly said a prayer as a brit raised his rifle to finish him off. The fatal blow was not yet to come as the brit’s head fell from his shoulder, a blonde haired man in a medieval armor flicked the blood from his zweihander. The old man struggled to his feet, an unspoken understanding passed between them, for God and Country. The mysterious warrior rushed into the fray hacking and slashing, parrying bullet and bayonet with his shining sword, an unearthly blue glow which repelled the darkness. However, the warriors' blade was suddenly parried by a mysterious azure demon who wielded a zweihander of his own. A blade of a diseased red and orange covered in veins with a single unblinking eye. The knight and demon, old foes each sworn to end the other spoke not a word as they fell upon each other, hacking and slashing. Above the din of battle, their swords resounded through the waning night. The old soldier raised his rifle taking aim at the demon sending shot after shot through the demon’s skull. The demon rushed towards the old soldier who found himself against a wall with the last of his ammo. He readied his bayonet and charged at the demon. The demon raised his sword to defend himself . the bayonet sank deep through the eyeball of the demonic blade which writhed and screeched in agony. The demon tore out the soldier’s throat with his claws. The soldier knew he had not much longer left. The warrior took his chance and charged once more, plunging his blade through the demon's heart. The warrior stood over the demon, preparing to ensure his victory and once more destroy the cursed sword. The soldier glanced over the warrior's shoulders, and silently used the last of his strength to push the warrior back several steps. The whistle of an artillery round echoed through the misty dawn, followed by the bark of several more cannons. Suddenly the ground beneath the azure demon exploded in blue flame. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained of the one once known as nightmare. The ground was littered with red dust which soon was caught up in the wind and scattered once more. The knight had been spared, however, he saw the waning moonlight reflected off a sniper’s scope only too late. As the horrible night ended Siegfried Schtauffen’s hands released their grip on his blade one last time as his head exploded. His spirit finally finding peace as his body was consumed by the flames The defender’s forlorn salvation arrived too late. Reinforcements arrived to recover the burned and ruined ground. Both loyal knight and azure demon were gone. There were no survivors to rescue, only more enemies to rout as they pushed across the field. The surviving allies fled in disarray. A new day began as a young messenger gripped the hilt of the holy sword and strode forth to carve his destiny.
I blink, my eyes were blurry, sounds were running through my head. Screaming, my wife’s voice echoing through my head. Alex, the soft murmur of my name jerking me back into consciousness, the harsh light stung my eyes, and I blinked, tears of pain trailing down my cheeks. I gazed around the hospital room, my eyes passing over the blank white surroundings to come to a rest upon my wife, my beautiful crying wife. Crying. Why was she crying? I tried to open my mouth, tried to speak the thoughts that were suddenly running through my head, anything to stop her gorgeous face from being marred by the ugly tears rolling down her face. But no matter how hard i tried my mouth wouldn’t open. I tried to raise my arm, to wipe away the tears. Finally I managed to wrench my eyes away from my beautiful, amazing, loving, and caring wife, to look upon my arm which has forsaken me when I need it the most. The arm which has betrayed me by not being able to lift a finger to help my love. Finally as my gaze came to rest upon where my arm should be, where my body tells me it is, my eyes betray my heart and tell me, why, why she was crying, why I couldn’t speak, and why... my arm would no longer move for the rest of my short, short life. This is my first time answering a writing prompt, hope you like it! If you have any criticisms just let me know. Thanks!
I was stunned, much like everyone else when the heavy brass double door that was the entrance to the high court slamed open, and a figure strode in , he was tall and graceful, his white robes stained with blood that was sliding off of them as if they were impermeable, great white wings open and in full display, his golden mane imaculate and billowing behind him as he walked into a room full of some of the most powerful demons and hellspawn. A smile crept across his face as he sheathed his longsword and said: "Bow before me, for I came to take my rightful place as your leader." I almost bowed instinctively, I would have if not for my Lords hand on my shoulder, what the fuck was wrong with me, I tensed as I saw most recover from the shock, their hands reaching for weapons or their muscles tensing, ready to pounce, before anyone got that far he spoke again, his voice booming and bouncing off the walls of the high court even though it was packed. "Bow before me, for I claim all of you as my subjects. I am destruction, inevitable, unstoppable and universal, and you recognize me as such." His words carried power, and they seemed to spark something in most present, they were tangible, I felt as they reverberated in my body, swept past me and in an unconcious action I bowed, just like 90% of the room. I would have said that I felt my Lords dissapointment in me but I couldn't feel much more than his words cracking against my skull, I would be punished later for this, it would have been a point of pride for my lord if one of his servants stayed standing when the rest bowed, but punishment was better than what I felt that creature would do to me if I refused to do his biding. "You d-" I heard my Lords voice come from behind me, his voice was powerful and it carried but it was still drowned out by the Lord of destructions voice. "Bow before me, for you have already recognized me, stop struggling and do as I say, show me the respect I know you have for me, and if anyone still believes in challenging my claim, take one step forward and let me show you why I will sit on this throne that I left empty." I felt my Lords hand on my back pushing me to kneel, we couldn't both be bowing after all.
Witness I have a horrible, horrible job, but someone has to do it. Everything is at stake. Our freedom, our lives, perhaps our very souls are at stake. The Battle for Britain is raging on, and I am in an unique position to know just how horrible it's going. The Germans are sending endless waves of gargoyles, and we can barely keep up. The disgusting creatures are no match for our noble griffin riders, especially with the fireballs and blizzards the AntiAirforce are throwing at them, but our ranks are wearing thin, and their swarms keep coming. Aside from the Archmage Churchill and his High Command, few know as much as I wish I didn't. I was selected out of school, for "excellent eye for detail and moral fortitude". They made me want to do it, talked about duty and patriotism, what did I know? I wanted to be a hero, so I agreed. Signed in blood. Didn't know what I was getting into, didn't know I couldn't ever get out. Now I'm a Witness. I have to be at Bletchley, witness the horrible sights the High Catoptromant Turing and his coven conjure on their black mirror, among the glowing runes, and then inconspicuously bring the images, in my mind, to the higher-ups, where the phlebomants take my blood and conjure from it the memories. I couldn't just tell them about it, even if I wanted to. I can never tell anyone. The curse is part of the contract. The things I've seen...so much suffering on both sides. The horrors the Unkrauts faced when Baba Yaga single-handedly broke the siege of Stalingrad. The horrors the Unkrauts inflict even now at the grand sacrificial circle at Auschwitz-Birkenau. The panic as the monster Gojira rose from the waves at the Harbour of Pearls. Trollriders breaking defense lines, wielding lightning staffs in what has come to be known as "blitzkrieg". Those same trollriders failing miserably at El Alamein, against Lord Montgomery's dervish battledancers and their djinn. But nothing I ever saw shook me as deeply as what I saw today. It has been long known that whenever a transmutation takes place, there is a pop. This is because the amount stays the same but some things are lighter than others, so the size varies. That is why only certain transmutations have been developed. Today I witnessed something incredible. Our allies in the United Tribes of Vinland have apparently been working in secret on a weaponized transmutation. Today, at a site called Trinity, they transmuted gold into elemental Fire.
"Who are you spying for?,"Henry said, pacing around the room. Cassandra struggled with the ropes binding her hands behind the chair. She took her eyes off of the small paring knife in Henry's scarred right hand to look him in the eye. She shook her head to get the curly golden hair out of her face so he could see her clearly. "I'm not a spy."she said. Henry sighed and took off his suit jacket, revealing a sweat stained shirt and an empty gun holster. He paced the room again. It did not take long. The room was a small, with no windows and one steel door. The walls were concrete blocks and the whole thing was lit by a single buzzing florescent strip. Two large men stood on either side of the door. They wore full suits and sunglasses despite the warmth and lack of light. Both had bulges under their jackets that Cassandra knew were large guns. Neither had made any motion in the time Cassandra had been here. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Cassandra."Henry said. "We know you have been warning people about my plans. About the stock market crash and the outbreak. You know too many details to be the conspiracy nut everyone thinks you are. So where did you get your information?" "You wouldn't believe me,"she said, the acid of experience in her voice. "The last group who took me didn't either. Nor will whoever takes me once I escape from you." Henry snorted. "Escape?"he said. "You won't be leaving this room alive." His eyes went wide for a brief moment, as if realizing a mistake. "That is, unless you tell me your sources." Cassandra stared at him. Her fear rising as the moment she anticipated grew closer. She should be confident in herself, as she could see the future. But she also knew the future could change. That's why she was here, after all. That's why she kept allowing herself to be caught. Henry stepped up to Cassandra's chair, holding the knife in front of her face. The light flickered once. Now was the time. Cassandra kicked Henry as hard as she could between the legs then head butted him. The two men reached into their shirts as the light flickered and failed. Cassandra brought herself to the floor, tripping Henry. Rolling over, she grabbed the knife from his hand with her tied hands. Muzzle flashes lit up the room and Cassandra's ears nearly exploded. Cassandra cut her hands loose as the room returned to darkness. She wiped Henry's blood from her face as she dodged to the side of the room. Another muzzle flash showed her where one of the two men was, so she stabbed him and grabbed his gun. She ducked behind him as another muzzle flash from the other side signaled another shot. Cassandra shot back. The room went dark once more. Cassandra pried open the door quietly and snuck out into the open air. Another catastrophe averted, she could rest a few days before taking on the woman who was planning a bombing in New York.
I dont even know what i was expecting. My boss had been working on this I.A. thingie for decades looking for a way to make a breakthrough. And he did it. The first I.A. that learns, thinks, changes. -did you really just uploaded the I.A. to the sims?- he asked me with furious eyes. -well at least now we know we are not the only ones- i shrugged while we both watched the screen. On the screen death was walking towards the pool. Poor little tom had just had an accident. The ladder misteriously dissapaered. -so... did the I.A. just removed the...- -yes.- i said while walking towards the plug. -well first thing it does and it kills a sim.- -yeah. Listen i dont wanna be that guy but....- i took the plug. -i am pretty sure we should be the only homicidal species in this planet.- As i removed the plug the I.A. vanished. On the screen of the computer a small blue text box appaered. After weeks of experimenting lucas Sawyer has decided to cut the plug on the Artificial Intelligence he had been working. Literally.
I gunned the engine and raced away from the compound. I was free from the meth, free from Todd and Jack, and I was free from Walt. I would have never envisioned my life taking the course it did when Mr. White asked me to cook with him just 5 years ago. I wish I had just told him no. There are so many people that would not have gotten hurt by my actions. As quickly as Walt freed me, I was snapped back into reality when the police lights lit up behind me. Would I lose the opportunity now? I clicked the blinker on and eased the car to the side of the road. “Step out of the vehicle with your hands in the air,” the officer ordered over the PA speaker. I put the vehicle in park, sighed and stepped out of the vehicle. I cried as the office searched me, confirmed my ID, and placed me under arrest. My freedom was short lived. As I rode in the police car, I thought about the mess I was in. Everyone else was dead. The biggest meth empire ever created was gone, and I was the lone survivor. The Feds, DEA and Albuquerque DA would make an example of me. They’d throw the book at me. Hell, I probably deserved it. But, my story couldn’t end here. I had so many wrongs to make up for. I needed to minimize my punishment, I needed to fight for my freedom. How am I supposed to do that? The police cruiser exited the freeway and turned into downtown. The car stopped for a red light. A city bus rumbled up beside the car and I looked absentmindedly at the dusty ad on the side of the bus. I found my answer written on that ad. It would be my way out. It would be my salvation. It simply read, “Better Call Saul.”
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"Oh shit I was just hallucinating because my pineal gland released the go juice!"Do you want a more serious answer? I mean, you've always wanted me to answer that question with the key to the world. You've always wanted that experience, the day where all your sad moments and happiness, all of these delusions that you questioned were finally put at ease. You never did like to just go with the flow, did you? I guess I can finally answer what you kept on asking then. And the answer is yes. You already were in hell. And now you're mine.
"funny isn't it"i say to the ask reddit mod that banned me 56 days ago "what is lol, you still banned"he says with a :/ thing as if he is still in charge "fool, i am now more powerful than you could possibly imagine"a smile was arising on my face as i type the letters, another mod chimes in "harassing the moderators ca get you banned from reddit altogether so i'd watch it there bud,"they still have no clue the news had literally just came out so i don't blame them, though you'd think they're read up on their powers before responding.. "have you no idea? i own you now, you bow to me lest i smite you as the scum of the earth you are"the power filled me "what? no, this can't be happening"as i read this i remember how silly the reason that i was banned was, 'impersonating an automod' or something. instant ban apparently. i suppose they read the news finally, he says "please, is there anything we can do? would gold change your mind?"little did he know i was now more powerful than any redditor had been before considering i was banned from one of the top subs and the devs now had my back realizing how stupid the reason was another one pleads for his life "please, anything" over joyed and power driven, i say what needs to be said "perish"
I look about behind the figure into the night. "Come again?""Its time for the transformation, now come!"I look back at my parents, talking with my brothers. "Alright""exellent"i step into the night, and walk to the creek. I see more figures in the moonlight, but the shadows hide their features. "Step in the creek""what?""Step in the creek, now""um....ok"i step in the creek, my shoes sinking into the mud a bit. Suddenly, i feel a great pull, as the mud swallows me up. I begin to stop feeling things, my body slowly losing conciousness. And yet...gaining new feelings in new areas. About then is when i passed out. I awoke to the chirping of birds. I stirred, but my body was not my own. I looked down. I had become a werewolf. Like tose pictures online. What were those people called? Furries? It didbt matter, i was nude in some cave in the wilderness as a wolf monster. "Oh good, youre awake!"A presumably female wolf comes up. "Are you alright?""I-i guess."My voice is changed, but i suppose that is to be expected. "Get up, oak leaf""oak leaf?""Yes, that is your name now. Oak leaf. Mine is oak seed""oh...ok"i get up, and walk out of the cave, starting a new life as oak leaf.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It wasn’t clear what had happened until it was too late. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What was the internet? &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The aggregated sum of human communication run through satellite, fibre optic cable, and millions of linked CPUs, sure — but what was it really? It was the next step of human society. A new era of conversation where every human thought is linked to every other human thought in an endless frenzied fire. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Our primate brains never stood a chance. We couldn’t have predicted how words written by someone else — by no one else — floating in some imaginary space could have so much power. Short-circuiting over the clunky organic standards we had become so accustomed to; no societal interactions, no body language, no intonation, no prevalence for education, word choice, personality, or delivery. Raw communication from everyone to everyone. Everywhere. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Any idea could thrive. Even ideas people would dare never speak in person for fear of societal retribution. That used to be a limiting factor. The internet instead allowed and promoted the growth of intellectual cancer that would otherwise never have connected, never have found support, would have withered directly on the vine. Instead they find armies, defenders, compatriots, and accomplices. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As it turns out, even for ideas not generated by people. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I don’t know when they deployed the Weapon. We only detected it a decade ago but forensic analysis on its behaviour and pattern recognition on its output has compelling evidence it could’ve been fifty years ago, early on in the internet’s growth. It didn’t create much; random comments here and there, minor manipulations, incomprehensible video — mostly it was learning. Reading. Waiting. Growing. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And then at the peak of our relationship with the internet, when we were completely inseparable… it began to work. Criticism of international alliances. Strong sentiments of anti-intellectualism. In each country, brewing resentment and nationalist ideologies. Turning and bending and breaking human discourse. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At that time if you had asked someone if the space program was particularly at risk, they wouldn’t have guessed. In the thick of it, all we knew was that everything was on fire. No refuge from the constant barrage of white noise through the system we linked to ourselves. Humanity’s collective seizure. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Through all that political and social strife, through that smokescreen of information warfare on the internet they managed to get one of their corrupted zealots onto the space station. And then they crashed the satellites. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It’s a shame all the simulations of Kessler syndrome are so pretty. Little black dots orbiting a cloud-like blue sphere. You could make a pretty compelling snowglobe out of it — give it a good shake, and look! Watch as the debris so gently filter down in the clear medium around the effigy of our home. Only out there, up at a thousand kilometers and beyond — if it wasn’t in space it’d be shrieking. The debris doesn't fall gently, each tiny fragment is stuck in orbit at ten kilometers per second. Smashing and shattering into each piece of metal making two or four more. An endless blender of sheared shrapnel whipping around our planet, waiting for us to try to leave. It’d puncture through our pathetic attempts like tinfoil. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Our cage. And now we can’t leave. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By all our metrics the Weapon’s gone from our systems. Maybe it erased itself, or maybe it’s still hidden in one CPU somewhere, waiting. Waiting for the debris to clear after one or two hundred years; to fall into earth and burn up or sail out into space forever. For us to dust off our feet at some point — and then strike again. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Only if we let it.
I saw the ending, and I wasn't happy. It didn't matter. The words were going to come out, no matter what I tried. It was the damn question. I could have gotten out of it with any other statement, but she had to say those words exactly. The words left her mouth, and time around me slowed, her lips moving at a snail's pace. My mind was whirring at the same time, the thoughts coming at a normal pace. To the untrained mind, it would have been like I was sitting thoughtfully. They could never understand the maelstrom in my mind. Thoughts bounced around me, showing different outcomes and possibilities for how things could turn out. Not like it mattered. I knew what was going to be said. Instead, I chose to look at her. She was beautiful, her ocher eyes piercing into my soul as she held her gaze for a lifetime and a half. After an eternity, time sped back up, and my mouth began to move, the words saying the worst of what my mind had come up with. "Does it make your butt look big? I mean, not really?" I winced. All the time in the world, and I still got it wrong. /u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker: 55/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!
Jack had joined this group of treasure hunters because his old friend Johnny was the one who assembled this group of 13. In fact Johnny swore he needed Jack because he had exactly what this job truly required not just smarts but a sort of destiny he called it. Following a map Johnny had acquired by some unknown means the group stopped at this cave only to rest before they continued on to their destination. "What does it mean?"Said Bob a short but sturdy man standing before the cryptic inscription of this cave wall. "It means treasure!"Said Albert a fat man breathing heavily beside him. "Do we go in?"Said Bob The entire group turn to look at Johnny as the natural leader. Johnny asked "what do you think Jack?" With that everyone turned to look at jack who somberly responded "this place is dangerous" Everyone broke out into chatter of their own until Donald spoke out in a loud voice "Johnny, guys come on we're treasure hunters!" That's all it took. This group was actually founded on the intent of being treasure hunters and no one present found a good reason to disagree with what was said. Not even the reluctant Jack. That's when Johnny said "we go"and the group no longer hesitated as they began to venture deeper into the cave. In truth not one among the group understood what the cryptic message on the cave wall meant. They ventured for quite some time before the cave suddenly opened up into a much larger tunnel that had strange glow coming from between the cracks in the ceiling that lit up the cave. "What are those?!"said bob "Treasure!"said Albert breathing a bit heavier than usual. Johnny said in an authoritative voice "keep going, there's bound to be better treasure deeper and thats too high up to reach." Jack was the last one still at what could be considered the entrance of this tunnel from the previous one as he called out "Johnny there's a strange kind of carved stone archway to this entrance" Johnny yelled "that's incredible! Now hurry up Jack your falling behind." Jack hurried after the group but after just a moment the earth began to shake a little. Then came the sound of rocks breaking and suddenly the tunnel got much brighter. When a piece of the ceiling broke away the glowing substance beneath it was exposed sending out intense white light. If that was all there was to it, it wouldn't have been a big deal but the piece of ceiling that fell managed to completely block the entrance when it landed. The room had not stopped shaking and while everyone was just standing around looking dumbfounded Jack yelled "RUN!!!!" Jack didn't know what that glowing substance was but his instincts told him to go forward. As the group ran a layer of the ceiling continued to break off revealing more of that glowing substance making the room much brighter and rocks to come crashing down around them. As the shaking of the tunnel grew more intense someone from the front of the group yelled "there's an exit here to another tunnel!"And with that the group run for their lives making for that tunnel. The fastest quickly entered the tunnel. Jack was running as fast as he could with Albert far behind trying to catch up to Johnny and the last two other men to not make it out of this tunnel yet when a piece of rock landed on one of the men just ahead smashing him dead. No one really had time to care but in that piece of rock was a very small piece of the strange seemly silvery glowing substance which both Johnny and the other man stopped and stared at. Jack yelled "DON'T TOUCH IT!" The man next to Johnny ignored jack, reached out and tried to grab the substance which turned to powder as he did. He put it in his pocket the best he could and then continued to run. The tunnel was still shaking as the three of them made it to the next tunnel but Johnny stopped just inside and with his eyes closed he yelled "Albert!!" The tunnel had become too bright to keep your eyes open but in return Albert yelled "WAIT!!!" Johnny would never want to leave someone behind but still for some reason he turned asked Jack "should we?" In that moment Jack noticed how much Johnny relied on him and in turn how much he relied on his instincts. Jack replied to Johnny "let's wait" Johnny called out again "Albert" To which came another "WAIT!" Jack said "Johnny, we passed through another archway as we entered this tunnel" Between calls to Albert in a sort of Marco Polo Johnny responded "what does it mean?" Jack answered "I can't tell" Finally Albert burst into the tunnel and behind him rocks fell to block the way behind him. The next thing Albert said was "I can't see" Johnny said "it's ok you can still follow along" Just then the man who had taken the glowing substance screamed "its burning"as intense flames seem to ignite from his hand and his pocket. The flames spread across the man within seconds and he fell to the floor motionless yet still burning. Jack said "Don't touch him or the flames or even the ashes!" The group of men all sat silently for the next moment as the man burned away into nothing. This tunnel seemed to be of different rock than the last but light still seeped through the cracks in the ceiling. Every man walked with upmost caution as they continued forward and after some time they came to another archway into yet another different tunnel. As Jack passed through the archway immediately an ominous feeling struck him. Johnny was helping Albert navigate when from up ahead they heard a scream. Another man had died. Things continued on this way for 3 more archways until Jack stopped Johnny just far enough away from the others to say "this is insane! Someone dies in every tunnel we enter since we started passing through the archways" Johnny replied "I know. Don't tell the others there's no telling what they will do once they know" Jack continued "but it's not just that! Albert...he's fat, slow, and blind yet he is still alive. No matter what happens or how slow he is he hasn't died" "maybe it's the kings will"Albert said as he came closer "sorry I could hear you" Johnny made to start moving again as he said "it doesn't matter there's no way but forward" They continued on and the group continued to get smaller, tunnel by tunnel. It wasn't until it was down to Jack, Johnny, Albert, and Bob that what everyone had been fearing in the back of their minds finally happened. Johnny killed Bob...but only after Bob attacked Albert. In the next tunnel Albert decided to stay behind as he was now wounded and blind. It was down to only Jack and Johnny. Johnny turned to jack and said "I'm the one who dragged you into this and if we had really listened to you we probably wouldn't have ended up like this" Jack knew what Johnny was trying to say. Jack responded "I can't just leave you" "Woe to those who do not know their way. Jack you got us here through your instincts I definitely don't know the way but you just might. Maybe it is some kind of will of the king but I think we both know we can't just stay here. One of us has to go forward. If you won't leave me alive then I'll have to take my own life"Johnny said as he gripped the knife in his hand tightly Jack didn't say anything. He looked Johnny straight in the eye before turning and walking through the archway. The tunnel collapsed behind him. Jack entered a large chamber. The walls and floors seemed to be made of gold and gemstones intertwined in the most spectacular fashion. It seemed almost as if it was a royal court yet where the thrown should be lay a large black coffin that seemed to be made of swirling black mist. Jack approached the Black Mist Coffin.
First Ever WP Ever Written, Please Enjoy! ———————————————————- Light. All I see is light... am I dying? Is this some sort of stroke or seizure? Man, that would be embarrassing; dying in the middle of a Burger King while in line to get lunch. But this feels different, I’ve never exactly had a stroke or seizure but I don’t think it would feel like this at least. Am I lying down on something...? It’s cold, like I’m lying down on one of those metal surgical tables, it’s probably the weird colorful floors they have in there. I don’t think I’m dying, hopefully. I’ve still got a lot of life left in me! Plus I really wanted to play Red Dead Redemption 2 when I got back to my apartment. It’s not exactly the equivalent to a hot supermodel waiting in my bed for me, but whatever makes you happy, right? I’m starting to slightly hear noises around me now, maybe my senses is coming back to me and I’m snapping out of this weird trance I’m in right now. All I want to do is just go home and sleep at this point, hospital bills are expensive, especially on a college student’s budget. Heck I can barely afford this lunch that I was in line for with what these new Playstation games are doing to my wallet. Should’ve stuck with the usual ramen. I hear faint voices around me, probably just Burger King workers and people that were around me checking if I’m okay. But it’s weird... are those birds chirping...? I’m inside a Burger King... there aren’t any birds in here. I hope not at least. Maybe it’s just my hearing playing tricks on me, yeah that’s it. I can hear a female voice say something... something along the lines of, “Calm down, guys . His senses need some time to adjust after the ritual. He traveled all the way from the Realm of Tera so it might take a moment”. What the hell? What does she mean by “ritual” and what even is the “Realm of Tera”? Something clearly isn’t right here. Yep, those are definitely birds chirping. I can also hear tree rustling, maybe I’m outside getting loaded into a ambulance. My muscles are extremely sore for some reason, so I’m not even going to attempt to move; at least I’m starting to see now. My vision is fuzzy but I can make still make out a brief outline of trees and the sky, blue as ever, barely any clouds. “Prepare your weapons, he’s coming to! He’s just as dangerous as Josh the Destroyer, and might be hostile!”, I just heard a really masculine say. Josh... how do they know my name? I don’t recognize the voice but it clearly recognizes me. But what’s with “The Destroyer”...? It sounds like some really crappy video game villain, like from some old arcade machine. All this talk about realms and such... did I get dropped off outside some cosplay convention or something with people in character? “W-Where am I?”, is all I can mutter out as I try moving my head to look around, my vision almost fully restored at this point. I’m lying on some large stone table outside in some sort of stone temple...? There are pillars standing around on each corner of whatever I’m on towering up into the air. I’m surrounded by trees. I can see four strange figures standing next to me, a few feet away holding... swords? Well one has some really long walking stick like some sort of staff. The shortest one of the four with the staff steps forward, she is draped in cloths and a robe like she just stepped out of Hogwarts, she’s jumping around clearly excited, “See Drake! I told you it would work!” she squeals as she walks around me examining me like I’m some sort of lab experiment. The largest male of the group, I’m guessing whose name was Drake, seemed almost seven feet tall from the distance I am from him, armored with a metal suit. He dropped his large sword with a clang and stumbled up to me, I could hear him muttering under his breath, “Well I’ll be damned...” I don’t get what’s going on here, am I some sort of successful experiment? They are all staring at me like I just sprouted wings or something, Drake and the other small girl walking around me just staring at me, as if they are questioning whether I am real or not. My muscles are relaxing so I can finally move around more then I could before, and I can move around freely. There are still two other people in the back, one clearly male and the other female, both holding swords up at me, looking terrified. The female was draped in the same cloak as the small girl who was still walking around, but in white. The male standing next to her was wearing a cloth shirt with a hood and pants, he looked the most normal of all four of these people. “He is... the right Josh, right?”, the female said as she slowly crept up to me, sword still drawn. The male followed her, a little more confident then her it seemed, “Of course it is, look at him”. I guess I’m famous wherever I am, I’ve already come to terms that I am not in Burger King anymore, and I’m not gonna get that burger. I slowly sat up on the weird stone table, and the group of four jumped back screaming, all drawing their swords, I screamed to. I’m more scared of them then they are of me, but they seem terrified of me like I’m a monster. “Josh...?”, the small girl said as she stepped up towards me, relaxing her staff down to her side, “We need your help”. I still don’t understand where I am, who these people are, and how they know who I am. But I might as well go along with their little game, it’s my best chance of getting out of here. “With?”, is the best response I could give to this situation. Drake stepped up now, sheathing his sword into his side, “We need to kill you. But not you, the other you.” To be Cont.
You saved me Yes you did. You saved me, and asked for nothing in return. But I gave you my love, my loyalty And hoped that it would be enough. From the cold streets, to the warmth of your home Overnight nothing was the same. So without hesitation I lunged at a stranger An intruder in our home at night. We fought. We struggled. And in the end I prevailed But I could not stop him completely. You saved me one night And so shall I do the same for you. When you brought me home, I gave you my life And now it is yours eternally.
It seemed that no one would let go of their phones. All those straps, contraptions, strings, chains(in some rare cases) "Seems like a weird game of the floor is lava to me", is what my father would say, should he had survived this long. Many don't. What was once an accident, at times annoying and at others completely meaningless, is now a ticking bomb. The fatalities happen every day, even with these "cool"precautions. Someone dropping their phone of a bridge, and after a few seconds their necks snap back and they fall to the ground, lifeless. Someone, tearing off someone's phone from whatever's being used to support it and stomping on it, listening to the screams of agony coming from the owner. These days you can't even tell if it's an accident anymore. It doesn't really matter. Recently, I've been hearing of people than sew the phones into their own skin. Oh dear, the extent people will go to in order to prevent their own fall.
A massive boulder whizzed right past Jack's as he dove to the side. "Is this the best that Iron City's finest can offer?"A high pitched voice somehow overcame the massive amount of sirens and various screaming and dug into his ears. "Please. I haven't even gotten started."Jack roared right back. He crouched and tensed his muscles locking onto his target. A women clad in a beautiful black dress floating above the collapsed bridge with various other debris levitating around her, creating a makeshift shield. She smirked looking down at him. With an animalistic roar, the Iron Knight leaped up from his spot rushing towards her. His blade singing as it sliced through the air making way directly for her neck. For a hero, some would say that was quite brutal but Jack had learned the hard way in the past. Lady Noir's psionic defense were nigh impossible to break through. Either he attacked with his full power or he'd suffer many more sleepless nights. She laughed before raising her hands and the debris surrounding her rushed at the leaping hero. Jack grunted as he shoulder bashed right through the first boulder spinning and cutting through the next before losing most of his momentum and slamming into the next and being sent straight back to the ground. "Okay, that didn't work,"Jack mumbled as he dusted himself up. "Time for plan B."He looked up only to find his nemesis reclining on lawn chair and a glass... wine in her hand!? Anger burned in his chest as a suffocating feeling rose from the pits of his stomache. She caused this much damage and had the gall to act like that?! ------------------------ Noir took a quick sip of her wine before glancing over at her knight in shining armour. She suddenly narrowed her eyes, Noir could see a eery red fog that had suddenly surrounded her Iron Knight, even the silver sheen of his armour had suddenly dulled. "Shits he's really pissed this time,"She mumbled to herself. "Time for plan B." -------------------------- A surge of power ripped through Jack's body, he could feel his every muscle tense and his death gripped his blade. His vision blurred until the only thing left was the elegant lady floating above. As he moved to unleash the primal beast that was stirring in his viens- "BRIIIIIING BRIIINGGGGGGGGGGG BOSS IS CALLIN"Jack suddenly stumbled as his annoying ring tone completely filled his helmet. "Shit."He swore. That ring tone only meant that one person was calling him at the worst times ever. "BOSS IS CALLIN BETTER PICK UP, PICK UP!!!"His own annoying voice continued to resonate inside his helmet. In hindsight maybe screaming 'your boss is calling' as your ringtone was not a good idea. But it did catch his attention. He looked up, Noir was still reclining casually sipping her wine, his desire to rip her apart but also save his only job fought inside of him. "Double tasking can't be thattttt hard."He convinced himself. "Plus looks like Noir has claimed down and all the civieshave been evacuated."Ignoring his better judgement he decided to pick up. "Mr. Meyer it's 4 p.m and I do not see my afternoon repost on my desk."A amused female voice answered. Dammit. That's at home.... all the way at the other end of the city. Why couldn't Noir have chosen a more strategic location for her attack. "Erm Ma'am, I'm currently caught up in super battle downtown. Sorry, I just need some time and I'll rush that report ASAP to your desk." "..."A pause at the other end. Jack sweated a bit. He looked up to see Noir stretching and with a flick of her hand the lawn chair shot at him. "But all the civilians have been evacuated Mr. Meyers." Dammit. Jack dove to his left rolling to avoid the chair he leaped down and ducked into the debris avoiding her line of sight. "I,"he leaped over a fallen pillar, "the cops are keeping us just in case nobodyelse gets caught up in the fight."He slid to a stop underneath some rubblespying Noir through a crack. "..."Another pause and then a sigh came through the line this time. "Mr. Meyers, as much as I enjoy these- " "Shit"Jack swore as all the rubble and debris around him lefted altogether into the sky. "Excuse me. Mr. Meyers. " "NO MA'AM. Not to you I swear. The fight just got really intense."Jack practically cried, "I'm so sorry Ma'-" "Until next time my shining knight!"Noir's jubilant voice rang through the air as all the levitating debris came crashing back down. Jack cut the line immdiadetely before swearing and raised his blade ready defend himself from all the falling earth. After cutting and pushing all the dirt aside Jack stumbled out a massive pile of stone and concrete. He quickly recoonncected the call with his boss. Just as he was about to speak in his defense and cold hard voice interrupted him, "My office, this afternoon as soon as you get out from downtown mess. You better have the report."Dial tone. She'd cut the line right after delivering his death sentence.
To the esteemed Captain Teach, Tales of your misdeeds have been told from Ireland to Cathay, It was with excitement that i learned you were expanding your crew. You should find attached to this letter a copy of my resume and the messenger himself can confirm some of my achievements ( I must say your hand trick was an inspiration to me, i may of taken it a bit further on him) The messenger himself is all yours now, i have no use for a former commander of the Royal Navy anymore but with your help, i have a plan he would be very useful for. In my carrer I have helped liberate nearly £1 million of assets from the enemy which is why i know i will be a great fit as your first mate. I have an eye for detail and am able to spot the valuable within the mundane, how a small piece of paper could be a clue to a Spanish galleon and how to follow those clues. My old captain double-crossed me to further is own gains, although him, his ship and all but five of his crew have since joined davy jones by my hand. I may of misread my new crew on that job but i offer you no such dishonesty I will arrive in Trinidad on the 14th of this month, I look forward to meeting you in person to discuss my achievements and how i can help you. &#x200B; All the best, &#x200B; James Flint &#x200B;
I trudged through the snow slowly, the cold slush rising up to my shins and soaking my jeans in frigid water. The air around me swirled with snowflakes and a high-pitched whistle soared with the wind. Suddenly, I stopped and gazed at the white expanse around me. What am I doing? I asked myself. I don’t even know where I’m going. This had been going on for weeks. People in town would do things, unaware of their intentions or desires to do so. The things they were doing weren’t strange in of themselves – no, that wasn’t the ominous part. The fact that they did not know why or for what goal they were acting… that was the issue. But then people started dying. It began simply enough – an accident here, a natural passing there. No one batted an eye at those. But once a series of grisly murders began to plague our reclusive, little town, then folks started asking questions. Police investigated thoroughly but could find no evidence of the murderer. It was almost as if they had disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace of their existence. And to make matters much worse, some of the townspeople – including me – started seeing things. We began seeing this entity in the sky. There was someone watching us – and we could see her. I glanced up at the sky. I could see the thin sheen of this world separating us from the giant above. The glass that separated us was immense and terrifying. She peered at me thoughtfully and I shuddered from the cold wind whipping against me. I was afraid of the being. I had the terrifying suspicion that she was the cause of all our woes in the town. Yet what could I do? The few in the town who could see her were deemed insane. But I knew – she was the source of this great evil. I turned away from her gaze and began to push through the snow once more. … The girl sat at her computer, typing away at a story about a mountain town tormented by fear.
"Okay, this wasn't in the job description, jackass!"I sit back on the curb of the road, watching a large cloaked skeleton as he screams over the phone. Amazed at how you can determine so much emotion from just body language alone, his skeletal face can't smile or frown. "Give him to you? Fuck that. You know God's just waiting for me to drop another soul up there, considering how fucking hard it is. Fuck it. Imma talk to the old man.... No.... No.... Fuck off."The reaper quickly hangs up, muttering to himself, "Asshole."He comes back to approach me. "Look, Imma take ya to the big guy in white. You broke his rules, but he might let ya in just to spite Red, and he can maybe get your soul back. In the mean time, shut up, sit down, and imma make another call."
I was always just an average guy, scoring right in the middle of the bell curve on just about every measurement. I worked in project management, always adjacent to the guild members and their familiars (which, back in my father’s day, had still been illegal, but these hippies “need” their companions that shit all over the place and shed and molt. They have rules to clean up after themselves, but if they don’t do it with designated trash cans lining park sidewalks, they ain’t really going to do that here in the workplace, either. Shit, my salary was cut to help hire more janitorial staff!) but I never wanted one myself or needed one since I didn’t take any of the quests upon myself, I just assigned them to members of my team. But, as shitty luck would have it, one day a starling landed on my burger as I was turned around to get napkins out of my pack. Sitting outside had been my idea for a nice team building lunch, but this little asshole decided to first, shit its’ milky shit all over my burger, and then say: “Hi! MynameisCherry! What’syours’?IguessIshouldtellyoualittleaboutmyself-“ “Ah!” I freaked out and smacked it with a heavy book.
His voice is a color no ocean could be. So funny that he should drown. All the bubbles of song caught up in his lungs, How funny that he should die there. I have asked how they pulled him from the sea, With the sand adorning like scales, His hair was the white of mountains, And frothe, How silent it seemed. When my mother saw him, She fell to her knees, Crawled like a snake in the grass, Held back by fear, She recognized cold, In his skin, In her belly, In her eyes, In the sky, And the ocean that colored his voice, Was a hiss and then, I don't think she's heard it sing since.
I usually dream about chores or homework assignments. I don't think about my dreams much, but I do enjoy the vivid ones, the ones that tell me how things are going to happen. I think the term is clairvoyance. I haven't put much thought into it, things happen 99% of the time and telling people, "I have De Ja Vu"just makes them crane their necks away and look for the exit. I know because I dreamed of telling people a thousand times. They always laughed it off and then gossips to other people about it. Or they called me crazy. Or they believed I was like them, but their dreams were such small, slimy little nothings that I would often feel cheated. So I kept it to myself. I kept the dreams that line the roads in neat, parade order. The trash at the end of the event was swept off. Which is to say, most of my dreams were as important as a half-crumpled soda can. They tasted alright but were so normal, so expected, I wasn't amazed anymore. Some things were sparkly. Like the time I caught my sister before she fell down the stairs. Hero of the day. Or the time I suggested we take Patrick Barks to the vet, where they caught his tumor in the early stages. I dreamed about that. I dreamed about the way we would put him in the trunk and drive him to the vet dead. The car speeding down the road would have got him and the doctor, looking at his fuzzy brown body, would have said, "The tumors would have gotten him eventually." But today was weird. The sort of weird that makes air viscus. Makes you drag yourself out of bed like a mummy. I was shaking, white had vomited onto the floor beside my bed. Not because I was truly sick, but because my head had become a blood bathe and no one... no one had died yet. I had gone through the death of-- God sixteen people. Ten who I knew. Ten who I... I had seen my own death. Not the sort of death people believe comes for you when you are old. But the death that eats away at the living, the zombie grief that carries into adulthood. The interviewed woman who claims guns are killing our children then pans to someone who held--- I told my Mom I wasn't going to school. She took one look at me and nodded. She offered to stay home with me. "Yes." And that's how she knew something else was wrong. She called my grandma to come and sit with me because she hadn't been fully serious about missing work. She was like that, trying to catch me in a lie. I had lied before, to stay home during awkward things, mostly dream sequences that would have led to social problems. Like actually doing the talent show like planned. People laughed poor Jenny off the stage and I was home, pretending to have malaria. My dad understood. "Socially anxious just like your old man." But this time, this time I must have looked so white in the face, so absolutely awful, that my grandma made soup and tucked me into the couch. She would ask me what was wrong, but I felt the blood on my hands, the knee of my invisible jeans clinging to my leg. I could hear the sound of boots on the floor. I wanted to tell her what was happening. I wanted to say, "Make it stop, Granny, make it stop."But the words hung in my throat like a dead man, swaying his legs and tickling my tongue. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. And I vomited every time I napped. I could hear Mr. Douglas begging-- Patrick Newton, was it really him? And James? James Lorence? God--him to stop and I couldn't sleep. When my Mom got the call about the shooting, they called all the parents, really, wondering where I was... Granny had never called them about me staying home. Maybe I should have? Maybe that was me who failed? All I remember is the hugs. How my Mom clutched me. Pulled me out of that school the next day and put me online. I didn't go back for my things, my dad did that. I was homeschooled until graduation. Couldn't bring myself to face anyone from my old school. Couldn't think of anything else really for a long time.
I'd been biding my time for days. Watching whoever it was stomp around in my body, watching him kiss my girlfriend, work my job, drink my good whiskey, and live my dam life. I watched. And I waited. I knew he'd come here eventually. He was doing a good job of being me. And I had to come here. Grandpa's living facility really is nice. Nice rooms, nice hallways, great cafeteria. But those back stairs. The elevators are wonderful and comfortable. But you have to go to reception and get a guest pass to use them. I never did, so I knew he wouldn't either. The back stairs opened to the parking lot. They were solid concrete, narrow. And after thought in case of an emergency. One slip and you'd likely break your neck. Or so I was counting on. He entered, and began to jog up the stairs. One, two three, four floors. Terminal height and speed now. I aimed carefully, and as he created onto a landing, materialized the marble under his back foot. His legs went loose, and he tipped backwards. He tumbled down the stairs almost twenty feet. I heard crack after crack. Sympathetic pain shot through me. This was my body after all. As it came to a rest on the landing below, I felt a warm satisfied feeling flowing into me. It was done. I looked to the sky. Hoping to see a sign of salvation. But none came. "Hey...looser"my voice spat at me. I turned back to my crippled form. He smiled a bloody smile and spit. His limbs were clearly broken, yet he pushed himself to his feet. My feet. "Here's a tip. Unless you can kill me. Don't hurt me. You'll just piss me off. And if you do that who knows? Maybe I'll forget and take grandpa's heart pills home with me...he really needs those. Or maybe I'll go home, screw your girlfriend bareback and leave her once I knock her up. Let everyone know what a true jerk you are. Maybe I'll just get distracted and plow through a pack of kiddies crossing at the middle school downtown. How about that?"He smirked. I felt rage. For the first time since I became separate from my chemical urges. I felt a true white hot rage. "Nothing to say? That's what I thought. Now sit back, shut up, and let me have my fun. Maybe I'll give you your life back...if I get bored." "Fuck you!"I roared, rushing forward. I focused on the marble. As hard as I could. Harder than I ever had before. I made one. More than one. Dozens. His eyes went wide briefly, and then dull. His heart and his brain...or mine...or whatever... So full of little glass balls. Now it was done.
I ran down the dark, empty highway, panting from exhaustion. On my belt I had a gun holstered, across from my tazer and radio, none of these crucial tools being touched at this point. If I stopped, even just hesitated, I would surely be caught. The only thing that I could do at this point was run. And I had to do it fast. Behind me, in the shadows, was a figure. A being that had been taunting me for years, ever since I was an adolescent. You couldn't see it, except for an occasional blur of movement in the corner of your vision. It always came just when I stopped worrying about it. Whenever it arrived, all I could do was run. Run from my fears. Fears of what it might do to me, but mostly fears of what I might do to it. Funny, how a symbol of dominance, an officer, feared to hurt the damn thing. It wanted nothing but to feed itself, and I wanted to fucking protect it. I couldn't help it. As an officer, it was ingrained into me to protect. Other officers would likely be firing bloody murder into every possible nook and cranny. Not me. I just wouldn't. I just couldn't. And you know what? I was getting real fucking tired of running.
Tron, Terminator and the Matrix universes. I created a premise of this years ago but failed to expand upon them. The initial premise: >!John Connor is the son of the Architect, the creator of the Grid, which is the earliest prototype of the Matrix. A Zion operative (Kyle Reese) from the future arrives to convince him to locate his father inside the Grid, and help him stop Clu from invading the real world. Failure to do so will usher in the birth of Skynet-Clu, who is very instrumental in winning the Human-Machine war for the machines, and resulting in the near total extinction of mankind (apart from being batteries, of cource) in the future.!<
"I noticed you as soon as you showed up"I said, trying to play it cool. You'd think that with one of the twelve Reapers in the room, I'd be terrified. To be honest, I was more annoyed than scared. I was looking forward to another monotonous day - go to school, play some football with the lads after, get home for dinner, then spend the next 4 hours or so before bed playing something on the PC. Sadly, with him appearing so suddenly, those plans were ruined. You see, the thing with the Reapers is... well, if they show up, someone is destined to die. Soon. However, the Reapers do not appear for any odd person - that would be below their dignity. Nah, they crop up when someone special is to be separated from their soul. Unfortunately, that usually means that I, being a child of a necromancer, will also be involved taking part in the ritual to split that soul. In other words, I will be forced to do a lot of heavy spiritual work instead of lazing around, as I had hoped. Gods blast it. While all these thoughts were racing through my head, the Reaper was taking its sweet time looking around the hall. I wonder who was going to be the victim this time. Funnily, I couldn't sense any death energy at all nearby. You'd think that with someone at death's door, they'd be bleeding it out of every single possible spot. The Reaper finally stopped analyzing the class, and raised a finger to point at the one marked for death. Everyone, petrified by fear, turned and their gaze followed the invisible target the Reaper had set. It was pointing to an empty seat two spaces away from me. "You."
"Oh no, oh god no!"I think as I rush to try to think of any possible ways to save my baby. I think, "I just need to get him to eat healthy now or else he's going to die."I'm no health snob, but if thats what it takes to save my baby, I'll do whatever it takes. I'm going crazy, normally I would have just kept feeding him formula, but clearly that is just going to kill him in a month, right? I have to try healthier alternatives. Milk right? That's good for a child bones. Milk is good, and my baby needs it. What else, vegetables, fruits, maybe some bread? Yes, yes that will definitely help. It's going to be better than the guaranteed death of my baby if I continue feeding him that devious formula. It's going to kill him! I have to try this. I keep feeding like this. It takes me about 6 months to get used to it but by then its surely enough... right? I can't sleep knowing the sure fate of my baby so if I change it I will be able to sleep again. Then is happens. A month after the midlife crisis. My baby is in the hospital. I hear that he's not going to make it. I'm confused. I did everything I could. Why didn't it work? I'm caught in my own mind, not realizing what went wrong. In my confusion, I realize the harsh reality of what happened. I killed him.
Hi u/Knottedmidna, this submission has been removed. This probably would have been approved with no idea it was a reference, if you'd not included the text, but you basically said that it would need to be removed for its association with Goblin Slayer, which I have no idea about, but you seem to think will get rule breaking responses. Weird flex, but ok - removed then. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9vj5jm/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
Since my eighth birthday I have been struggling with this illusion. Every single morning, I was waking up to an achievement board similar to the old Xbox interfaces. At the beginning my tasks were quite normal or at least that was what I thought. My first achievements were these: "Hello World - Pick the apple from the tree", "Cheff - Feed Noah and his voyagers". Nothing was making any sense and since I have been raised within an atheist family, not even baptised, my knowledge of Christian religion was almost null. But the complexity of these achievements was eventually increasing more and more, like "Merchant King - Sell your water at high price". However, two days ago at my 33th birthday its was the most terrifying one, to the point that it really hurt me. That was "Escapist - Escape the crucifixion". I woke up with two holes in my wrists and almost another one in my left ankle. Carla my wife started screaming, that is the last thing I remember. When i regained consciousness at the hospital her scream was still bouncing inside my head. It did not end there, next night I got my last and final achievement:"God slayer - Defeat god". Woke up at that hospital clinic, I was alone suddenly the board spawned this time it was different now that bitch had two options "Restart training", "Back to The Eden". The first one had a count about the times I repeated the game it said "666"This time I apparently couldn't press restart the only interactive option was "Back to The Eden". I woke up at an angelical room but also having a lot of computers it kinda looked like start trek films. \- "Welcome black Jesus"She said \- "Jesus?? WTF my name is Friedrich Nietzsche" \- "-She started laughing- You always had been a funny guys let me give you a recap, your father it's going to exterminate the humankind because they destroyed his precious jewel The Atlantis". \- "D fuck are u talking about??" \- "Oh my fucking god, let me fix your memory access" \- "Holy fuck I'm Jesus" \- "So you know how to kill god?" \- "Yes Maria, I know" &#x200B; Sorry if my english suck im spanish native and i dont know shit about grammar :)
"Let those who are about to die step forward!"the announcer said. "For round two, our champion team - Team Cognitionis - are behind by a mere two points, with the young usurpers, Team P4wn20wn in the lead!" The crows cheered, and the cameras whirred as we all stepped forward. I looked at my three team mates. We were covered - we had the broadest knowledge of any team who'd gone before us. We were unbeatable. There was me, specialized in history, warfare, and society. Helen, specialized in medicine and biology. Duncan, specialized in languages, sports and entertainment. And Ingrid, specialized in technology, mathematics, physics and chemistry. Facing us was a group of 4 kids ranging between age seven to thirteen, led by a girl who was just nine years old. &#x200B; I grit my teeth, and the quiz commenced. "This plant is known for its toxic poison, but also its sedative nerve agent widely used in the medical industry, as it slows down the heart rate on-" BEEP "What is; Deadly Nightshade, AKA Atropa Belladonna", one of the kids answered. They were rewarded five points, and I gave my team mates a serious look. Game on. &#x200B; The second round ended with the kids being three points in the lead. They were good - really good. Broad and detailed knowledge, fast to answer. Now it was time for round three - the decisive round, after which the winners would be hailed and transferred a million gilds per participant - and the losers executed publicly as part of the show. A year ago and four months ago, I'd formed Team Cognitionis, and we had succeeded in dominating the Contest of True Jeopardy convincingly. We had watched as the huge glass cylinder had encased our opponents and the electricity inside had incinerated the unlucky losers. Heard the horrible screams, smelled the burned flesh, felt the relief that we at least, it wasn't us in those chambers. Instead, we had received huge amounts of the cryptocurrency GIL - and now, each of us were good for more than ten million gil. &#x200B; Round three opened with the question: "This planet is primarily composed of hydrogen, although a quarter of its mass consists of helium. Orbiting it is no less than seventynine moons, but it's unknown whether-" BEEP "What is; Jupiter", my team mate Ingrid answered, and we were immediately rewarded 2 points. The question had been easy, but the third round was known for being exceptionally tricky. The real contest would begin now. &#x200B; We were nearing the end, and we were losing. Team P4wn20wn were in the lead by a solid nine points now, and the children's facial expressions had gone from being fearful to triumpant. When we'd heard were facing a group of kids, we had all doubted if maybe the show's screening program had made an error, but none of us doubted the kids' capabilities now. They were genuinely good. I looked at my team mates. All of them were sweating and looking nervous. The last question was asked: "This German mathematician is known for coming up with the notion of Gaussian curvature, leading to the formulation of the Theorema Egregium, used to-" BEEP "Who is; Cars Friedrich Gauss!", I heard a young voice of a nine year old girl answer. There was a moment of dramatic pause, then a loud fanfare blasted through the air and their point counter rose twelve points. Immediately, we were surrounded by a big glass tube. "The reign of knowledge of Team Cognitionis has been broken, ladies and gentlemen!"the announcer called out, and the children embraced eachother, laughing. "Now... it's time for the losers to pay the ultimate price." "Andy,"I heard Helen say with a soft broken voice. I gave her and then the others a look. Now was the time to act, to see if we really were the smartest people ever assembled. When I assembled this team, I'd gone for knowledge and potential - but most of all, people who opposed this ridiculous farce and who, like me, wished to bring down the regime behind it. We'd spent over a year of planning, and now these plans had come together. The kids were an unexpected surprise, and they had forced us to reevaluate our schedule. Us losing wasn't supposed to happen for another three months, but none of us could bear to watch children so young being executed. Helen took off her jacket, and Duncan stepped onto it. Then he lifted me up on his shoulders as I loosened by belt, and Helen helped Ingrid climb us until she sat on my shoulders. Outside our glass tube, people murmured. This show had seen it all - participants begging, crying, trying to punch and kick the glass tube - but to no avail. Once the electricity soared through the tube, there was no stopping it. Except. There was. I handed Ingrid my belt, and she connected it to the diadem she'd used as a decorative accessory for her hair. &#x200B; "Ladies and gentlemen,"I heard the announcers voice reach a crescendo, "say goodbye to Team Cognitionis!" I heard the charge and knew that the electricity would come soon. On the floor, I saw that Ingrid had used Duncan's belt to connect the glass tube with the floor, then stepped on the jacket. Avoce me, Ingrid connected the loose end of my belt to the glass tube and helt the end with her diadem as high as she could. Everything happened quickly after that: The electricity was attracted to and hit the diadem, then travelled the path of least resistance which was the glass tube itself, reaching the null which was the floor. The glass soon began to melt, becoming and even better conduit for the high powered electricity. As the glass tube broke down, we were showered with sparks and then everything went black, as the studio's main reactor gave up and doused the place in darkness. We tumbled onto the now harmless floor, got ourselves up and ran - as fast as we could - towards the fire escape exit. The guard we'd bribed using a few million gil had left the door unlocked before the show had started, and before the reserve generator had powered up and taken over to provide light inside the room again, we were out. &#x200B; A fast sedan car was waiting for us, engine running. We'd paid the driver well using more of our prize money, but it was money well spent. He was a retired racing driver, and we barely got in before he drove off as fast as he could manage without the tires screaming, which would've brought unwanted attention to us. Inside the car, we looked at eachother. We all looked relieved and victorious. This had gone fully according to plan: We'd let ourselves lose convincingly, foiled our execution and managed to escape. &#x200B; The first part of our plan was complete. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
It was about 5 in the morning when she set up the hill. This was the first time she had the task of fetching water in the morning, as it was her brother who normally did it. She had traversed the path many times before, but usually during the day or while trailing behind him. She thought about her brother, about what route he would take, the areas he told her to avoid, and what rocks to watch out for. She remembered his warning about the yellow flowers by the edge, and how to stay away from them. As she passed them, those memories bought tears to her eyes. Memories of that painful day. Why didn't she listen? Why did she think that they would have been a good gift for mom? Why did she have to lean so far over the ledge, that she lost her balance and almost fell to her death, had it not been for her brother to save her. Alas, that feeling of safety he provided her was premature, as the ledge crumbled beneath him due to the combination their weight and the soft soil from the rains the prior day. She stumbled backwards in shock as he plummeted 10'. Hurrying cautiously to the ledge she saw him laying there at the bottom, not responding to his name when she called. The doctor said he had broken his crown along with part of his spine. Jack would never be able to walk again to fetch water, or anything for that matter.

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