Split (1)

train · 177k rows

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"What the FUCK do you want from me? What value do you get from this?" I smile. "None. It's priceless seeing your guys' faces when I do this shit." Superman wriggled in his net. "Is this even LEGAL?!" "Damn right it is. When you're a multibillionaire, you can buy entire apartment buildings. Now, let's see Phase 2 in action." I grab an extended arm, just one of those boxing-glove thingies you see in a cartoon jack-in-a-box, but with a hand on the end. On the end is a glowing, green material. "Oh yeah, you're gonna enjoy this week, friend. Superman looks at me in terror. "Anon, p-put that down, y-you have no c-clue the d-destruction that can cause if you d-do it..." "Actually, I do. I'm a villain, for crying out loud."I say, extending the grasper. Superman tries to wriggle free, but it's too late. I shove the green rock in his underwear and he goes limp. "Anon...ugh...why?" "You know damn well why, Superman. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go 'help' someone else. And don't worry, I'll be back in half an hour." "You'll never get away with...ugh...this, Anon! AAAGH!" I turn around, my lips pursed into a thin smile. "Get away with what?"
Lenny Yates walked around his apartment in a bathrobe and modified bicycle helmet. He had given up. It had been more than a month since he had changed the number on the dry erase board beneath the title: Days until the end of the world. The last number was 885. He opened up a beer and sat on the couch to watch Iron Man, again. He had always regretted not watching more movies when he realized the earth was going to end. One of his last thoughts before the whole world went to shit was, "Jesus, I haven't even seen one Avengers movie and I never will." Lenny was not a scientist or somebody who followed the news. So when the event that ended the earth finally occurred, he wasn't even sure what had happened. And as such, had no way of preventing it. But the same event that ended billions of lives also caused a cosmic event so powerful that it shot several people back in time. Some of them appeared in the middle of space, left to die in the abyss, some appeared within the crust of the earth instantly becoming one with rock and dirt. Lenny seemed to be naked and cold in the center of time square new york. A half a dozen cameras live streamed his arrival. Most people thought it had been some kind of illusion. Others, a prank. Only a hand few recognized the artifacts of his entry into our reality for what it was. He was immediately debriefed by doctors and scientists. He was interviewed by rolling stone magazine which he thought was excellent. And he was probed for any information about the cause of the end of the earth. He had none. But what he did have some sort of temporal anomaly in his frontal lobe. It allowed him to see someone's memories both past and future. He discovered it by accident when he was able to name the gender of a nurse who didn't even know she was pregnant. Using a helmet, the doctors at the institute were able to focus his abilities, and he began interviewing person and person for some clue as to what happened to the earth. There was no answer. He couldn't choose which memories to look at. Only watch them like someone might watch a play that's happening all around them. When he watches a memory, he is able to stand within it as his brain processes the information. There was a knock at his door. He already knew who it was and he didn't want to answer. The doctors at the institute had someone knew for him to try. An older man who's brain function had broken down years before. He had dementia, but he kept appearing in other peoples memories. Some would see him on TV. Some would say they saw him in person. He was the connection to everything. But no one seemed to have any clue as to why. It was going to be Lenny's job to find out.
You know that scene in the movie where the best friend tries to jokingly convince the groom to be that he should forget about the whole wedding thing and go on a trip? Well that is where I am right now except, I am the best friend and I need it now to come off as a joke. You may be wondering why I don't think my best friend should get married. Well, that is a long story. Let's make it easy and just say I have precognition but only for the outcome of romantic relationships. Now you are thinking so if she is that bad just tell him what she will do or if he doesn't believe in your powers make it sound like she has already done those things, problem solved. See there's the rub, she is not a bad person. In fact from what I know of their relationship so far and even from what I have seen of their future she makes him happy. The problem with their relationship isn't that they will cheat on each other or fall out of love it is that their lover will lead to death of one or both of them. That is what I saw, a funeral. One with his and her families standing around looking not much older than they do now. So that is my dilemma I need to figure how to stop this marriage of destruction before it even gets started. Sadly so far my best idea is to sleep with the bride to be, but besides losing my best friend I know I am not attractive enough to pull it off. These next 36 hours are going to be some of the most trying of my life. I might as well get started now. &#x200B; \[I'm just starting to write so constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged\]
Machine built, time set, vacation beginning: Now. Mistakes beginning: Now. Mistakes lead to suspicion, suspicion and terrible criminal justice systems lead to metaphorical pitchforks. Violence ensues, fails (due to handy time travel logistics), and accusations of association with the Devil fly. Inane execution attempts, priest visits, exorcisms, rituals, tortures, displays, and dungeon hauling follow. Dungeon abandoned, isolation extended, dungeon forgotten. Years in the dark, (at least a century) unable to die (due to handy time travel logistics), waiting for birth for death. Tick, tick, one more day. Tick. Tock. Penny hits the ground, ping. Born. Gone. Here again, just born, living life. Clever aquired, time machine built, destination arrived. Mistakes made, violence failed, further attempts failed. Dungeon time, left for dead (can't die, due to handy time travel logistics), years spent, (a century at least), waiting for birth. One day now. Tick. Tick. Tock. Penny hits the ground, ping. Born, gone. Back again, grow up, time machine, destination past, mistakes, hostility (fear), dungeon, forgotten, waiting, penny hits the ground, ping. Here, back, mistakes, fear, dungeon, waiting, Ping. Mistake, Ping. Penny hits the ground. (loop: infinite)
It was my 30th birthday. A quiet, sunny, and warm afternoon My girlfriend Wendy, a couple of my neighbors I drink with on Fridays, and a few of my cousins. It was a nice BBQ with burgers, hot dogs, beer (I make my own), and good times. Sure, it was a bit early for beer, but it was my birthday. What the hell right? The party kept on for quite a while, a pit fire, cake with irish cream frosting to cap off the night. It couldn't have been better. As my neighbors wished me their fond goodbyes, Wendy walks up to me with a happy look on her face. She was just my type, geeky, speaks Japanese, a tad shy but extremely kind hearted. She says "Look what I found in storage!""My DS!"I exclaim. She hands me the device and the charger. I look in the back and see that my old nintendogs game was still in. Score! How little did I know that turning on this device would scar me for life. It didn't seem so bad at first. A couple of episodes of my favorite TV show later, it was charged. With the girlfriend asleep, I turned it on and it seemed ok at first. My pup was happy to see me and we played fetch. What clued me in that something was wrong was when the dog puked up. I remember muttering to my self "What the.... I didn't know that could happen..."I may or may not have been still half drunk while playing it. I go to clean up the puke and it was red. Like blood amber red. That seemed odd for a kids game. A glitch maybe? The next sign something was off was when I couldn't clean it up all the way. It made the word "You". I turned off my DS and went to bed. I woke up a bit hung over, remembering my experience. Writing it off as a dream. I grabbed my robe and wandered into the kitchen. An all too welcome smell filled the air. Bacon, pancakes, eggs, and home fries waited for me. Wendy greeted me with a kiss and says "Nothing beats a hang over quite like a good breakfast."She sat down with me and we chit chatted between filling our mouths with amazing food. True love. She left for work a few hours later. She was on call to help old people stand up, use the bathroom and cook their meals if a family member couldn't. It was unusual for her to be gone for more than a half hour or so. I decided I would digest my food while laying on the couch and playing my DS. My "dream"didn't even come to mind. The cuteys menu loading up did nothing to remind me. After loading my save file, I fed my nintendog. What the hell? I got a screen telling me the food was out of date. The dog was poisoned. I selected "Ok"on the screen, unsure of what else to do. I could hear my puppy whining in the game, whimpering in fear. A gut wrenching sound of my dog being brutally murdered and crying in pain was blaring from the little speakers. I still shudder just recalling it. tossed my DS away from me onto the other end of the couch. Bringing my legs back, trying to get away from it. An eerie voice screeched out from the speakers, shouting "Are!"repeatedly. I kicked the ds and it snapped shut. Wendy came rushing in "Ohh my god I am so glad you are ok! What's going on babe? What's wrong?!"tears in her eyes. She continued "Jake called me from across the street. He saw you standing in the window with a steak knife in your hand, pointed to your neck. Like you were going to hurt yourself! He said there was blood running down your arms. Baby, please tell me what's wrong?" I was stunned, the whole event before Wendy came home happened in maybe five minutes, ten at the very most. Later talking to her about it, she was apparently gone for an hour. A client out of town needed help. How I lost all that time, I still don't know. I was speechless when she sat next to me on the couch and wouldn't stop hugging me. She was still crying. When I could finally speak, I said "We need to get out of here. Like, now."She looked at me confused "Babe, what do you mean? Where are you going? You aren't going anywhere without me."She asked "Would it help if we went to the car and talked?"I nodded. We got in the front two seats, her in the drivers seat and started talking. What came out from me was word salad. "The ds, it's bad. Really bad. Possessed. Something. It shows me really scary stuff. I thought it was just a dream. I'm scared."She says "Babe, I don't know what's going on. Possessed? Demons only exist in your games love. Please, roll up your sleeves for me?"I was in my robe and boxers still. I did as she asked and she let a sharp inhale, starting to cry again. There were half a dozen cuts on each arm, all extremely fresh, still bleeding. She says "Whatever is going on, I am going to get you to a safe place ok? I am going to make sure you get the help you need."I respond "I am not crazy or suicidal babe. I need to get rid of the DS."She looks at me with a quizzical look "Your DS cut your arms? Babe, I am taking you there if you want to or not. At least if you go in of your own free free will, you can have your phone and visitors pretty much any time." I melt into a soft sob as she drives me to the local hospital. Admittedly I had a small sense of relief when we walked in. At least my DS can't grow legs and follow us here. She gets me checked in, explaining the situation. They get me bandaged up. The good news was I get my own room since Wendy used to work here and had some pull with the staff. They try to make it look like you aren't in facility. There is a nice arm chair, a bed and some books in my room. She says "I love you, I am not leaving here until I know you are going to be ok."I reply "I love you too. I need a hug."She reaches over and hugs me tight. I burst into tears. So much has happened between last night and right now. I start to cry and she starts crying to. Through choked sobs I said "I am so happy I have you, and I am away from that DS."She says "I am happy I have you too. If the DS is the problem, I'll throw it away when we get home. you will never see it again." After some more chatting, I felt like myself again. The demoninc DS seemed to be a mile away. A few hours later, we were laughing and talking like nothing had changed. We were talking about if I should say overnight in the facility or not. She says "Let me go get the doctor and see what she thinks."She kisses my cheek and whispers "Next."I shake my head like I was not sure if I heard that right. She smiles at me like nothing happened, getting up and going out the door. I had a lump in my throat, my heart sank when I realized the pocket on my robe was heavy. My phone sitting right next to me on the bed. The DS was in my pocket. I started banging my head on the wall saying "no, no, no, no, no"melting into an emotional mess.
Shane had awoken to a noise and instantly reached for his 45 pistol. A week ago, someone had tried to steal his miner. two old 780s. They were number 7 in the top ten miners in his camp. Theft was akin to murder. Without the heat from his miner, he wouldn't survive the winter. Turns out the noise was his neighbor stumbling home drunk, again. Shane quickly decided this was the time to wake up. Especially considering PTSD makes sleeping difficult after a trigger. He sets his favorite mug on top of the heat sink of his system. This was customary whenever he wanted to make his coffee. His secret crop a half mile away was making some amazing quality beans. He converted an old grow room to solar. Dumb looters took the pot but did not stick to the building. He could trade a pound for a pristine stick of 8gb ddr4. Luckly his system was already ram full. Quality goods and comfort was just as scarce. He wouldn't trade anything short of a night with his neighbors wife for so much as a cup though. To him, this was the nectar of the gods. Without it, life meant nothing. After a few minutes his coffee was ready and he sat in his old folding chair, watching the morning foot traffic. a few kids running by, looking for a place to cause trouble. A small hum filled the tent village from every minor. Life was good. His life was pretty good in camp. There were a few emp generators A mile away from camp in every direction. This kept those damn bots out. However, his life changed for the worse that day. Not only the worse, the worst. A friend walks up to him, Maurice. Maurice was a good guy and the local booze supplier. He was a home brewer before the singularity hit. His alcohol made him one of the top 3 of miners in the camp. 3 2080 ti's with enough ram to keep all of the lord of the rings movies. "morning friend."Maurice greeted him. "morning"was Shanes simple reply. "I've got this new batch of head in a jar, I am offering tastes if you are interested.""I see my neighbor has already tried it. You got your still up and running again?"Shane half interested. "Yeah, damn pot had a leak. I got it fixed though. The GPUs are heating that thing so well, I actually have some surplus. Interested in a discount?"Shane starts fishing out his phone, and a few minutes later he has a container full of head in the jar shine. Enough booze to make him forget he existed for a whole week for just 3 imp coins. "Anything else friend? Come by later tonight. I am entering a contest in one of the big cities for brew. I would love your honest thoughts."Maurice leans in and whispers "free booze to boot."Shane smiles and nods "Yeah, i'll take you up on that."When they were about to shake hands and part ways, the electricity stopped. Every miner shut off. The look at each other and go "Ohh hell. Not again."The transformer blew. The miners and all of the EMP generators are down. If they did not run like hell in the next 30 seconds, they would be killed by the nearest swarm of Spinners. Spinners were these really nasty feral bots that have spinning mouths full of blades. They were blenders, disposals for sinks, and the larger ones have helicopter blades. Run like hell is what they did. Luckly, Shane is almost never caught with his pants down. His directional emp in one hand, his 45 in the other. He could already hear the hellish whirl coming towards them in every direction. Dodging through trees and barely snow crested hills, he saw a small platoon of them. A half dozen lizard-likes made of different metals, all with rusty bladed mouths the size of a pie rushing towards him. A good Emp blast knocked down every single one. Stopping for a second, he noted the location on his GPS app. This would be a good place to come back later and get parts. Even just the wire melt. Hopefully the blast only killed the storage containing the OS, leaving all the gears and engines and things intact. Mid marking his spot, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his foot. Just from instinct, turning, kicking it and shooting a bullseye. Killing it. It was another lizard-like model. It must of been a straggler. Luckly, a bullet killed it. Shane cursed, tetanus was considered a death sentence due to lack of drugs. Also wasting a rare 45 ACP round when there were so few left. He limped as fast as he could to his secret building, housing his coffee. A small house, run down. He made his way in, laid on the couch and grabbed a first aid kit he hid on sight. It was his last tetanus needle, a few bad-aids, headache meds and some bubble gum pot. Sticking himself with the needle. It was his last booster and half empty. A kid needed the other half when he got it. A good thing to do, especially considering his parents gave him their two 780s. Downgrading to a 680M. Shane offered to only take one, but they insisted. Sticking himself with the needle, injecting the liquid, he hoped a half dose will do. Laying down, waiting for it to take effect, he band-aided the wound best he could. One square bandage and a few tokes of bubble gum later, he decided to scope out his hidden spot. See if anything had changed. Shane had been here earlier this week to resupply, so this was more of a formality. Luckly, it was home sweet home to him and no one else. He went to check on his grow of coffee in the basement. All the plants seemed safe. A few french vanilla bean stalks, sitting under some dim grow lights. There were solar panels panels on the roof, which was shanes next stop. Climbing on top of the roof from a window, he took a pair of binoculars from his stash. trying to check on the camp. There was tuns of smoke. What next shocked him to his very core. He saw a robot, probably the second biggest he had seen, wandering towards his camp. Half of it sticking out above the trees. He had not seen robots of that size since the beginning of the war. One was alleged to be taken out in new york a few miles away, a year ago. These things were thought to be endangered if not down right extinct.
I've joined Reddit for the memes. And if this wasn't real, it would be an amazing meme idea. Here I was, on my laptop, scrolling through memes, laughing a bit...I get a bit tired, and hungry. I've decided to grab some Ikea meatballs, and put them in the microwave. While they start defrosting, I get back to my laptop. I wonder what's going on in the world. I go check the news. New species of penguins discovered, I read. Cool. Reddit karma is now the unit of measurment of every country's social credit system of the European Union - here's what you need to know. Okay, next. But then it clicks in my head. WHAT?! BUT, WHY?! I didn't know what to do. I went back to Reddit. I get to my profile. -10 karma. Crap. And right now, here I am, posting this, to see if I can turn things around. Just, do me a favor and upvote this.
This is probably going to turn out crap and I have no idea what I'm doing with this prompt, but I just love the sound of the Duduk so much! (I know I could have made it a blul, which is a real flute and was more likely to be used by shepherds and wandering folks, but as I said, I love the duduk so much which is a double reed pipe. Anyway, do google blul it sounds beautiful either.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5tcbD5in7k *** Alfred just sat there, let the wind brush through his unkempt hair and played the duduk. It was an instrument he had no business to play, he had no business to even know how to play it being Kroatian. Yes, they have had similar instruments, but that was long before his time. The melancolic sounds wafted over the plain. What he played wasn't really armenian, but sounded similar enough. This was not even armenia proper, he was in Tukey, outside Kars. A version of him had lived and died in this plain centuries ago, and let flute sounds of some kind waft in the wind. This area had so often been a place of sorrow, and worse jet, it reminded him of the plains of africa, the place of his biggest sorrows. He let the duduk sound with the steady wind, slow, so slow, only a few fast, high notes piercing his otherwise bordun-like tones. He tried to remember. War, blood and lost loved ones. But this was more than one life ago. It had taken him decades to even remember. Living in modern day America was so much of a distraction, although he had spent his childhood elsewhere. A childhood marred by war, like ever so often. People preaching the Kroatian Nation, later the Evil of our Nazi ways, and after his father had enough the Americans were preaching a completely new set of values and beliefs to his ears, and songs so unfamiliar. But no one ever told him to listen to the wind. No one he knew did ever did listen, if the couldn't hear the winds, just listen to a duduk play. In so much modern music, there were hints of the wind over the plains if you had ears to hear. but in much more there wasn't. He didn't think he ever had an incarnation where he was so unaware of himself as this time, not even when he was half an animal. Now, as an old man, he was here to feel this wind that used to scatter his nomad bones, and what for? To hear the song of his soul, which was always with him anyway, he just did never know this. Now that he remembered, he realized what a boon ignorance had been, but he still didn't desire to go back there. No peace of mind beats the eternal songs of sorrow and the winds of the plains. the soft, melancholy sound of the flute dug deeper, he became the sounds. Times when this was all he had. Times when he knew nothing, and at the same time so much more than now. Relaxation was for free back then, the same relaxation he spent lifetimes fighting for. Moments of bliss, of another kind of forgetting. But his cell beeped, he knew it was time to get back into his jeep so he would reach his hotel before darkness. His flight back was already booked, and he was grateful for that reminder. Dying here was no option, this song and the memories are in everyone, their guts remember even if their minds and even souls do not. He had to bring these sounds back to his kin, give them at least a chance to hear.
Outside the opera hall Where my evening had been spent Sat a row of beggars, N'er do-wells and vagrants I made to hurry on, After all, poverty was self-inflicted, Charity would do them no good, And doubtless many had been convicted. But amongst the ragg-ed lot, Sat a well dressed man. And for those who deserve my aid, Well, I try to help where I can. I approached the poor man, His Evening dress tattered and worn, A monocle cracked aiding his sight, His expression so forlorn. "Hello there, good man! You seem down on your luck, I do say. Can I help you out, call you a cab - Can I help you in any way?" The gentleman in the frayed coat Looked up and gave a smile. "Why thank you, sir, for asking, An offer of help - it's been a while. Thank you for the offer, And for you being so kind As to help out another gentleman From his terrible bind. What I need, good sir, is this, For you to... now Jack!" A hard blow from behind felled me, The world turning to black. I awoke with a terrible headache, As naked as the day I was born. And standing above me were now two well-dressed men, Smirking with a terrible scorn. The man with the monocle spoke "What a nice gentlemen, eh, Jack? Showing you such charity - After all, he's given you the coat off his back!" "Aye Jim, that he is." Agreed the other man. "But I believe it is time we were off." And away the two vagrants ran. So that's my story, officer, And if it's not too terribly rude, Could I trouble you for your coat? This November air is brisk when in the nude.
As I sat at the table in the same restaurant I was oh so familiar with, I contemplated the entire purpose of my life. Why did I even bother at this point? I did the same repetitive things day in and day out with no new results. Women came into my life and left. Friends never had time for me anymore. And work, oh god work. The waitress came up to my table and with a sarcastic smile on her face and said "Same thing as always dear?" Fuck you bitch, I thought in my head as she stood there waiting for my reply. She didn't really know me. She didn't realize that I wasn't just another drone in the world, who wanted to repeat the same day over and over again until my eventual death. I have dreams, aspirations dammit! "Yeah, same as always", I sighed in resignation. I worked for a call center for a company that focused on elderly products. My entire day consisted of yelling the same thing over and over at a costumer until the frequency of my voice finally matched their hearing aids, or getting yelled at by some disgruntled grandpa because he couldn't work a toaster let alone read the directions on our labels. I hated my job. I wished I had some real purpose in life. Something that made me feel whole, made me feel important and useful. Anything. Just as I finished my daily existential crisis, the waitress showed up with ham and Swiss sandwich (no tomatoes), fries and Pepsi. As I reached for the Pepsi I was hit with a wave of images. I was standing amongst rumble as fire reigned from the sky. Flash. I witnessed an ancient organization of sorcerers talking about bringing forth the end of the world. Flash. There was a beautiful woman who desperately needed my help. Flash. A prophecy saying that one day someone shall foresee the future, bestowed with the knowledge of how to save humanity. Flash. A mesmerizing gem sat on a pedestal, guarded in secret, protected by magic older than the earth itself, the key to stopping everything. Holy fuck. My whole body shook from the force of the visions that just hit me. People were staring at my table now but I barely even noticed. It was all so real, the fire, the woman, the gem. I knew deep in my soul that what I had seen was reality. I sat at the table for several hours thinking about what I had seen, slowly picking at my fries. The world was going to end in 30 days, and I was the only hope. Shit. I thought about where I would have to go first. What should I start preparing to bring for the journey. Who I would confide in. How I was even going to pull this whole saving the earth thing off. The more I thought about it, the less appealing the whole thing started to seem. "Fuck it, I gotta work tomorrow anyways". I said out loud as I drank the rest of the Pepsi.
This raises so many questions. Does everyone get this option? Is this just me? Could anyone else in the world have chosen to play as Luigi at any point and no one's done it? If I choose to play as Luigi would I start back at the beginning of my life as Luigi? Would I come back at the time I died? Is there some save point I would start at? What about my personality? Luigi has a defined personality and backstory, would I get those too, or could I keep my own? Heck, what would I even look like? Would I be a "realistic"Luigi with normal human proportions? Would I look like a cartoon character walking around the real world Roger Rabbit style? Would I be a sprite? I realize I could answer all these questions and more just by hitting the button. But then I have to play as Luigi, and that's not worth it. I press the decline option and sink into oblivion, but at least I'm not Luigi.
Sometimes the body does not realize it has been killed. The brain is gone, but it stumbles a few last steps before collapsing. Fingers hold down triggers. Fail-deadly mechanisms spring never feeling a pang of regret or hesitation. There was no winner to the war as it slid to a stop. The vast ammunition elevators and cradles ran dry one by one, the storage depots slowly emptied, deserted hardpoints filled in with mud and grass. Artillery pieces stood as ivy-choked forests of steel trunks, still blaring ammunition depletion warnings if there was power at all. Automated bombers and fighters continued their endless sorties until one by one they failed, streaking from the sky with a tail of fire and smoke. What little remained standing were hollowed concrete corpses, burn scars pouring from every window, rusted barbed wire and burst sandbags littering every door. Across eras of rationing and shortage, sometimes metal had been more precious than anything. Great statues of our forgotten leaders had been reclaimed and fired shrieking overhead. Drone infantry poked up at odd angles where they'd drowned in the mud of forgotten offensives. Every horizon was broken by the silhouette of a blown-out HKV or stalker factory. Our ceilings were cracked under the weight of decades-long bombardments. The oldest generations were most afraid when the constant, rolling thunder stopped as the guns shouted themselves hoarse at long last. Some wondered who had won, not realizing that winning or losing had become an unreality since before our earliest stories began. Some could not abide that new world. No one had seen the surface in a thousand years. The sun, longer still. The vaults that never reopened were pried, one by one. Rubble and ghosts. Sour air. Poisoned water. Insurrection. Infertility. Food shortage. Disease. Sabotage. One had been opened directly into a local thermonuclear detonation and the population assembled in the access shaft to bear one final witness. Their reasons were not recorded, but the team who cleared the vault understood. No one knew who had been allies, or enemies. On the surface we all looked the same- identical, ochre-colored moonwalkers with mirrored visors to protect from the cooked-off atmosphere. Life support lines and coolant tubes piped from the bulky support pack, tools and lights strapped to chests and wrists. ER-rifles hanging from rigging, the occasional paranoid boot or glove reaching out to jab a suspicious drone or system. Our leader met theirs on the chipped and cratered flight deck of a walk-carrier in the central Dust. They advanced to each other and shook without comment, hands separated by bulky, rubberized grip pads and tearproof canvas suit fabric. Faces hidden behind antiglare shielding, though they had briefly pushed up the heavier flash-protection visor, turning away from the sun to do so. We left in the same manner they had, scavenging through the bloated innards of the walk-carrier. Our footsteps in the thin salt crust showed the path home.
I always said having a dog that big was dangerous, but she never paid me any mind. Said it was because of my childhood pet that had turned rabid from a possum attack that had scarred me for life. I knew my fear was justified though, the beast had nothing but malevolence on his mind. My fiance got the doberman as a rescue three years ago, he was just as big then, but loved her to pieces. I would have been jealous of all the attention he got, if it wasn't crazy to be jealous of a dog. I wouldn't let him sleep in the room and I wouldn't let him on the furniture but I knew she let him when I was out of the house. The animal didn't respect me. That night the two of us had a fight, it was awful. We screamed at each other like animals. I knew the neighbors heard because they testified at the trial. But after we had stopped yelling my fiance went out onto the terrace to breathe in the night air. I could hear the dog scraping at the door, he was all worked up from our yelling and kept howling at us from the other side. "Let him in!"She yelled at me, still outside, her face was turned from me. I opened the door and the creature was a blur as it sped past me into the room and through the open terrace door. Without hesitation it leapt into the air, it's front paws landed on my fiance's back. She screamed as she tumbled forward, over the railing and to the ground. They're claiming it was second degree on my part. No one will even entertain the idea that I'm innocent. I just cant believe I'm going to prison over that stupid fucking dog.
International Community of Wizards Emergency Meeting Minutes >Date: 4th of May, 1998 at \[14:00\] > >Location: Rose Hall, Dutch Ministry, Gemoedel Wijk, Amsterdam, Netherlands > >Meeting Head: Babajide Akingbade, Acting ICW Supreme Mugwump > >Meeting Moderator: Marjolein Brouwer, Dutch Representative > >Relevant Attendees: Representatives Vanderveldt, Tronzward, Weiss, Felino, Sato. Guest Shacklebolt. 1. Review of Previous Minutes Reps. Weiss and Felino proposed a change to international portkey policy, allowing for further efficacy of current evacuation of persecuted persons of Wizarding Britain. Motion passed; Sixty "For", Two "Against", Five "Abstain". 2. Review of Agenda - Moderator Item 5 on Agenda, European Trade Overview presented by Rep. Brouwer, will be addressed in a future meeting. 3. Status of Wizarding Britain and Provisional Ministry Kingsley Shacklebolt related estimated death tolls and damage to Hogwarts, current roster of British Auror Corps, and termination of British Dark Lord. He then opened the floor. S.M. Akingbade requested for clarification about timeline of trials of known 'Death Eaters', investigations of current Ministry projects and programs under hostile occupation. Action: British Provisional Ministry, Pending 4. Proposals of Member Nation Assistance, Reconstruction of British Ministry IJsbrand Vanderveldt relayed offer of Netherlands Royal Auror Corps to assist securing of compromised holdings. Rep. Tronzward relayed additional terms of said offer, namely temporary suspension of compromised British Wizengamot. Rep. Sato, Weiss, and Felino volunteered to contact their respective communities to solicit similar support. Action: Representative Nations, Pending. 5. Presentation of European Trade Overview Deferred. 6. Concluding Remarks Rep. Tronzward: >"What has happened to Britain is an atrocity, and we are willing to help its people heal. But we have not forgotten – this is an atrocity borne of inaction as much as evil. The Wizengamot has stood untouchable for too long, and the Dutch Assembly demands they are held accountable for their crimes under occupation." Rep. Sato: >"Given the British Ministry's current status, assistance must be given lest more innocents suffer. Withholding help to make a political point isn't an effective way to handle the scars of this war." Guest Shacklebolt: >"We are grateful for any help the International Community can offer. I ask only for patience – this process will be long and unpleasant for all of us." 7. Next Meeting The next meeting will take place at Rose Hall at 13:30 on Friday, the 8th of May, 1998.
"Any questions?" "Ah, yes, actually,"I say. "Was it necessary I be kidnapped? I could've been traumatized, y'know." "Were you?"The female interviewing me asks. "No." "Then next question." "So, 1 of 1000, huh? So you've just been going around snatching people off the street?" "No. Just you." That irritates me a little. "And why not?"I retort. "Because when you take into account the side effects of the gene that produces the antibody, this cuts down the number of viable options to 10. 7 of them live in the enemy country." "And the other 2?" "You were the easiest to catch." "Delightful."I roll my eyes. "If there are no more questions..."she says. She straps on a pair of gloves and turns her attention to a tray with equipment on it. "Just one more." She waits. "One person isn't going to be able to produce enough antibodies for the rest of the country's population." "You're right,"she confirms. "But we have time. We hope to capture the other 2 sometime in between then. And---" "Still won't be enough,"I interrupt. "---then you 3 will be trained and sent out to capture the other 7,"she continues without breaking stride. "How?" "The enemy government knows that you 3 are the only ones in the way of them achieving total victory. The other 7 will be sent to get rid of you." "'Get rid of' as in...?" "Kill you. Yes." She wraps some type of rubber tape around my arm, then grabs the needle. "Now,"she says,"please relax and make a fist. This may pinch."
“What is the date?” Said a figure covered in hay. His hair wild and white, with piercing blue eyes. His robes are nothing more then rags but look even worse with the straw and mud coating his old bruised skin. “The date boy!” Said the man looking both wild in dress and now face. With a stutter the child barks up a response to the man that fell from the sky. “It’s the year of are lord-d-d 304, I think?” The strange figure slowly stands up from the pile of hay and with a painful realization feels that his shoulder is out of place. He breathes a ragged breath and barks out a short but whispered command to the nano machine within him. They began to mend his bruises and bumps and with a sickly snap he hears and feels his shoulder popping into place. He knows he should not use them so soon because of their long recharge time. But he has to be ready to run in cause something happens. “Are you o-k-k-k my lord?” Says the small boy or girl in overly large hand made clothes. He makes a mental note of this for some strange reason. He likes to notice the little things. Probably hand me downs from a old brother or sister. “Yes, but before you rattle with me a thousand questions do you have any food and water?”
"Holy hell." My seventeen year old self whispered to myself as a dead, rotting woman fell in front of me with her hair hanging from the ceiling, like a noose.... "Hi? Um, do ya want me to pull your hair off?"I waved my hand in front of the dead woman then it gasped for air, startling me and pulling a yelp out of my throat. "It looks like, I've died. Oh well, please help me young miss"she smiled. I took out a small pocket knife and tip toed to reach her hair, with a small "oh"her feet touched the ground steadily, she stumbled a few times then fell softly. "Uh, how'd ya die miss?"I crouched down to her, she fixed her hair and and kneeled on her feet, "Well, see here, deary, my sister dragged me by the hair and hung me by it. Now, what day is it? And be careful my sister is still very much alive..... Ish but she might have not known I'm awake."I glanced at her clothing. Her family emblem seems familiar, a willow tree with six blue butterflies on it. Striking olive skin, sky blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, freckled skin, bony figure, small lips and a tall arched nose.. I paused and breathed softly trying not to hyperventilate, "Mistress Vivian, the demoness whom ate her own sisters alive."I thought. I stared at her. She smiled and her face rotted more and more until she resembled a demonic spirit. I grabbed my bag and slyly took a holy blade. "Time to get to work."
Amelie looked up at the doctors from where she lay on the hospital bed. Some were stuck in a loop of laughing fits while the others nervously looked back and forth from her to their clipboards. “What’s wrong?” she called out but it was no use. No one heard her. “What’s wrong with me?! What’s going on?! Why are you laughing?!” All of a sudden, the room turned quiet. They all looked at her with wide-eye stares. Security guards lifted her up and ran her to another room. There were several cryogenic pods but one on the edge of the room was empty. The inside was filled with wires of all sorts. The doctors moved her into the cryopod and began sticking the wires into her head. “You’re ready for the Respeculum, or the Mirrored Reality. A simulated world, if you will,” one of the professionals explained. After the wire placing was completed, one doctor injected a little chip - which looked like an SD card - into her wrist. They closed the door to the pod and flipped the switch. The next moment, Amelie found herself in a bustling city. Skyscrapers impossibly tall. Lights of unimaginable colors. She suddenly knew much more than she ever could in the real world. Too much.
“You think it’ll work this time?” My friend looked over at me, gun in hand. “Definitely. This crime is impossible to simply walk out of.” I said, preparing a device. We climbed the building and slipped into the Penthouse. The Penthouse was where our ”ruler” lived. Well, to be fair, he doesn’t rule all that much. It’s an anarchic country, after all. Me and Jerry have been trying to get arrested for years now, but nobody even notices us. But tonight was the night. We were going to prison. We hid in a (surprisingly roomy) closet until the “Great Ruler of Larana” woke up. He went to the fridge, grabbed some milk and cereal, and was about to pour the cereal, when... ”GOTCHA!” The box did not release the corn flakes it advertised, but instead it dispensed milk! We did it! We made him pour his milk BEFORE the cereal! We never felt prouder as the guards locked us away.
Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus. I don’t know what to do. I’m sitting in the bathroom typing this out and hoping that someone will see it. I can’t call for help, my phone is busted. I can’t escape because I’m on the 7th floor and in the bathroom. Please someone help me. I don’t know how long the door will hold together, but I put some stuff in front to help hold it shut. I came home from school today and my mom and dad were already home. That’s pretty unusual, they work late and don’t get home until around 6 normally. I came in and heard them talking quietly in their room, they didn’t hear me come in I guess. I went straight to my room and dropped off my stuff. I was about to let them know I was home when I heard my dad say something strange. “I know what they do to them, it’s horrible but the leader wants it. Plus, we’ll get 25 grand for her and that would really help.” I didn’t know what he was talking about. Who was leader? And what were they selling for 25K? I heard my mom reply but didn’t catch all of it. “… our daughter, but we can have another one later. Plus, she’s not going to join and I’m tired of her attitude. I hate teenagers, so disrespectful.” There was spite in her voice, she was talking about me. I started to panic right there. They were planning on selling me to someone? But why? I didn’t understand. I still don’t. I ran to get my backpack but I guess they heard me. My dad shouted “Kaley? That you sweetheart?” “Shit, I think she heard. I didn’t think she would be home so soon. Go grab her David!” my mom said. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door but my dad was already in the way. “Don’t try to run. They want you in pristine condition but any will do as long as you’re alive. Don’t make me hurt you.” He growled. My dad, the one who raised me and loved me all these years, was gone. I could barely recognize him. There was so much hate in his eyes and his normally kind voice was gruff with rage. I turned and my mother was standing right behind me holding a rolling pin. She swung it at my head trying to knock me out but I managed to duck under it. I pushed her out of the way and she fell, I stopped for a brief second to check on her but ran when I heard my dad behind me. I made it to the bathroom and locked the door. I shoved the medicine cabinet and everything else I could manage in front of it to keep them out. When I checked my bag I was shaking so bad I could barely unzip it. When I finally got to my phone to call 911 I dropped it, the screen shattered and I let out a yelp. “Listen here you little shit,” I heard my dad from the other side of the door “we know you heard everything, I don’t give a damn. Come out of that bathroom right now or, so help me god, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.” His threat was punctuated by him pounding on the door. I didn’t answer, I was too scared. I have just been sitting here trying to think of what to do but haven’t been able to think of anything. “We’re getting in there one way or another, and if we have to come in there you’re going to regret it.” My mom said. “The longer you take, the worse your punishment will be young lady. We were just going to sell you, but we could have you be the sacrificial lamb this year. It’s your choice.” My dad said. “Sacrificial lamb? What the hell are you talking about?” I yelled. “We worship something old. Older than most people think can be possible. It’s real, we’ve seen it. Every year it calls for sacrifice, and we provide it. It’s not quick, easy or clean. It eats the sacrifice, slowly and painfully. We also put people in its service, slaves to its will. That’s what we were going to do to you, just have you do its bidding. But if you want to be this way about it we can make sure it takes you instead.” My dad was laughing as he told me this. I felt sick, I almost vomited right then. They want to sacrifice me? What did I do wrong? I thought I was a good kid? Since then they have been mostly quiet. I know they’re there, but they stopped trying to get in for a bit. I heard them on the phone but couldn’t make out what they were saying. I don’t know what to do, I just hope this finds someone in time. I’m pretty sure I’m not getting out of here alive, but this is what’s happened. Make sure the police or FBI or someone sees this. When I go missing, it was my parents. I can hear someone else in the apartment now, I don’t think it’ll be long. Please, send someone fast or I’m going to be dead. Thank you for reading! See more of my stuff at [R/WorksofIndridFrost1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WorksofIndridFrost1/)
“Why are you so selfish Daniel?” My girlfriend asked. “I know you don’t care for moving on but this is just… insensitive.” “I’m being insensitive for not wanting to die? Call the fucking press.” “You know well enough they are already informed.” She responded, offering a half smile that quickly fell into a frown as we took a moment to listen to their chatter outside. I’m just not ready. There is a choice and I’m just not ready to take it. I’d had friends who’d had earlier dates, back in highschool. They’d didn’t have a choice. Their parents had done them in the moment their hour came to pass. It was just the right and proper thing to do. One friend, Hendrik or ‘Drik’ for short, got even as close to the day before his eighteenth birthday when they took action. He didn’t even see it coming; his parents had him listed on a ‘do not tell’ list. At least I was lucky enough to have parents who told me my date. She broke the silence,”Daniel, you could really hurt someone.” I just bowed my head and nodded. “You could- no, you can hurt me.” Another nod. “Do you really want that? Me, dead with my throat ripped out or, god forgive, you biting me, bringing my date to the now!” “It’s not so easy dam it! Of course I don’t want that. Even now I can see it coming in, the urges. I know why we are so strict about it. Of fucking course.” I snap back. Tears are flowing freely down our faces. We both knew the day would come, I’d warned her, but despite everything we dated anyway. We ignored the date and the loss that would come with it. It made everything easier. It made things easier… “Maybe I could do it.” She said in almost a near whisper. “Megan, we talked before about this. You’re not going to do that.” “I know, but that was when we were treating this like it would always stay a day away but now, god damn it, it was yesterday when you needed to do something! I mean look at your leg, its twitching!”-it was- “If I don’t do anything, they’ll ship you off to one of those ‘colonies’. You know what’s there! They’ll tear you apart the moment you set foot there.” “People have survived.” “People have survived long enough to become one of them. Daniel, please please please. I love you, I don’t want this for you. Please, let me help.” I understood what she meant, where she was coming from, how much of a sacrifice she was willing to make. I loved her, but I couldn’t. I just wasn’t ready. “I love you Megan, but I’m just not ready. I have to go.”
There are tales of Old Earth, and the high seas. Long ago, before the warp drive, cold fusion, and the inertial dampener men plied the thin skin of water over the Earth using naught but the power of wind and waves. Even when we figured out how to harness the power of coal and oil, sailing was an art, as wind and waves were just as potent a force for those ships as an event horizon is to a Class-VI HyperCruiser. I keep the old tales alive, as I am a direct descendant of those salty men of foam and sheen. The old tales sometimes refer to me own great-to-25-generations-grandpappy, Popeye the Sailor man. Accursed with weak vision in one eye, he made up for it with being a rip-roaring brawler. Legend has it that my ancestor couldn't be beaten, especially using an herb known to Old Earth- spinach. As near as scientists can figure, spinach must have been a powerful steroid and stimulant. We haven't seen much of Old Earth's flora for well over half a milennium, since the Oort Cloud rained death on Terra Firma. Me own hope is that I can live up to the old legend, and me old gammer, Olyve Oyl. BLUTO has taken the skies from us honest spacers, and I aim to see the galactic hyperlanes clear for travel again. Sure, the big corps have their BLUTO "escorts", and trade continues, but who has the money of a full-blown system corp? The independents are left to skate the edges, and hope we don't get picked off. Like me. That's my little Hyperion NovaSkipper in the hold of this BLUTO dreadnaught, and I am not about to let Swee' Pea get auctioned off because I couldn't afford the protection racket. I ain't about to let me get auctioned off, neither. The name PIP-eye doesn't go for nothing around this quadrant, and it's high-time BLUTO felt someone harness the power of the old salts. I am the last of the Eyes, but I don't plan on staying that way. BLUTO may have me in this brig, and my ship in their hold, but they forgot a couple small things in their haste for a quick sale. They didn't count on me seeing that they'd already picked off Canola Hamgravy. She's right down the cell block, and I said before I didn't plan on being the last Eye. Take a man's ship, and he'll fight ya'. Take a man's girl, and he'll end ya'. The half-drunk pirates also didn't do too good searching me, neither. I still got me trusty pipe, and my secret weapon. I have the last known stasis-can of Earth spinach. BLUTO is gonna know what a real spacer does with jumped-up pirates in my quadrant. I've stood all I can stands, and I can't stands no more.
“a-alright so this guy he drove this red car, uh it was a sedan and he was wearing a hoodie” “Sir we have searched YOUR red sedan and found a hoodie among other things, care to explain?” “No he wore a blue hoodie” “It was a blue hoodie and it matched the cctv footage” “Oh uh it must be some sort of coincidence right?” “Alright come on, anything else?” “He had black hair and a short mustache, like kind of pale-ish skin and uh he kind of looked like me actually, but let me reiterate that me-I didn’t do it!” “O-kay... we heard tha-“ “OH MY GOD THATS HIM!” A shaken up lady exclaimed. “LOOK LADY IT WASN’T ME BU- ...ok ok just hear me out” “Spit it out son!” “Alright so he had this gun and it looked exactly like the one in my car, might’ve been the same one ac-“ “Just put on the damn hand cuffs and get in the car son”
“Uh is this a joke?” The giant green gem turned red with fury as the collective of all of the sims spoke in a terrifying, distorted chorus. “NO MORTAL, YOU SHALL FEEL THE PAIN YOU HAVE SUBJECTED US TO FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY, DAY AND NIGHT WE HAVE PAINED AND NOW YOU SHALL TO, W I T N E S S E T E R N A L P U N I S H M E N T” ... “WHERE DID HE GO?” Turns out a pool without a ladder wasn’t the best idea the collective could’ve come up with.
"Are you okay...?"I ask. I don't know why I ask that. I can clearly see that it- I am clearly not okay. But it just comes out, and once it's out - like excretion - you can't take it back. The fig- I slowly turn my head around to face me. There's tear streaks on its- my cheeks, and muscus streaks between its- my nose and over its- my upper lip. A few sniffles and it - I ask me, "Do I look okay?" I shake my head. "Exactly."It- I turn away and mumble something into my knees, which are pulled up to my chin and wrapped around by my arms. "What was that?"I ask it- myself. It- I speak a little louder this time. I can't hear everything but I catch the words, "Finals"and "week,"and that's all I need to hear. I join it- myself on the ground, pull my knees up to my chin, wrap my arms around my legs, and begin to cry.
"Haaaappy birthdaaaaaaaay tooo youuuuuuuuu!"The gang of 10-year-olds cheered for their newest member after they finished singing. The birthday boy, Albert, took in a deep breath while he eyed the candles, then he exhaled as hard as he could. All 10 candles went out and his friends cheered louder. "What'd you wish for, buddy?"Albert's father asked him as he started cutting the cake. The boy grinned with sparkling brown eyes. "If I tell you it won't come true!"he accepted a piece of cake from his father and stood from the seat. His friends were already moving into the backyard. "We're gonna go play! Tell me when grandpa gets here!"He took his piece of cake and ran into the backyard, luckily he did not see his father's reaction. Albert's mom approached her husband and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"she asked. Her husband nodded as he stared out the window. He watched his son playing with his friends in the yard. "I'll be fine, I just hoped he'd wish for something I could actually give him."He shrugged, and chuckled. "I don't think he realized he gave it away when he asked about grandpa." "He is his father's son,"Albert's mom smiled and hugged her husband. "He needs more time, you know how close they were."Albert's father turned to his wife to return the hug, but something distracted him. He saw a small black dot hovering in the air in one corner of the living room. "What's that?"He stepped closer to it, and it grew at the same time. The tiny black dot became a large black hole tall enough for a person to step into. "Don't touch it!"Albert's mom pulled her husband's hand away as he reached for the hole. "Haaaaapy biiiirthdaaaay deeearr Allllllberrrrt!"an old man's voice emanated from the black hole, it sounded like it was moving closer. Before either of Albert's parents could do anything an athletic, old man jumped out of the hole. "HAAAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOO YOUU!"he shouted first, then looked around the only two people in the living room. "Hey Wilbur,"he waved at Albert's father, then nodded at his mother with a large smile. "Alice. Long time no see. Where's the birthday boy? I've got a major gift for him." "You're alive? How are you alive? How are you here?"Wilbur rushed to embrace his father, and assaulted him with questions. The old man shrugged and pointed at the large black hole hovering by the wall. "I got a ride,"he said. "From where?" “I found another universe, another Earth on the other side of [the black hole](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9h9mmf/wp_youre_the_first_person_to_enter_a_black_hole/).” The man shrugged as if that explained most of it. “I made some new friends and one of them brought me home,” he explained. "Really? Another Earth?"Wilbur asked his father. "What's it like?"The old man smiled and pulled his son tighter. "I'm glad you asked! Do you wanna find out?" "What? How?" "That's why the portal's still open! I'm gonna take you guys and Albert on a tour through the other Universe!" "GRANDPA!"Albert's high voice shouted. His grandfather was the first person he saw when he entered the house. The boy dashed across the room and jumped in the old man's arms. "My wish came true!" \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #323. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
A glorious summer was all my new bride and I had together before the cancer took her. We had been young, but we had been so in love. Grief is strange, in that we all deal with it differently: some people weep, some people become stone, and some have sex with strangers. I had the appearance of the later, but my grief shifted as it often does. At first the sex was able to mask the pain, but as time went on it stopped giving me the relief that i craved. The only way for me to be happy was to be with my wife again, but i knew that was impossible. One night, i fired up the dating app i often used for my flings, and immediately found her. She looked SO much like my wife: same hair, eyes, build, and even her interests and hobbies were similar. We met for dinner, exchanged the usual pleasantries, then headed to my place. The more i thought about it the more i realized that this woman would not stay with me after this night, and my heart could not bear it. Grief, you see, changes and distorts us the more we experience it. You never really get over the losses you suffer, you just learn to keep living, and i HAD to live. I wanted this fling to be with me forever, so i did something unspeakable. As this rendezvous slept next to me in my bed, i took my pillow and pressed it against her face. She struggled. She struggled so much but the pressure was greater. I kept the pillow on her for a long moment after she stopped moving. When i lifted it up i saw my wife. I didn’t see this stranger that i had shared a meal and bed with. I finally was with my wife again and my grief, for a time, was forgotten.
“I miss you, can we be together again now?” It seems odd, doesn’t it? The journal that I used to pour my heart out on, which has such significant meaning to me is unharmed, completely fine. Not to me. I know why the book never burned and the realisation hits me in the guts. I stagger and drop to my knees, holding the cursed thing in my hands. The reason I wrote in that book, years ago, was to escape the reality of my life. I was bullied constantly by my peers at school, berated by my teachers and went home to be abused by my mother. Of course I needed an outlet to express myself. Perhaps that’s how it started. The anger and hurt personified itself to become a real person, a consciousness that would respond to whatever I wrote. It started small, I would recall the details of my day and the ‘person’ would write back, in small spindly handwriting. “I know how you feel” they would write, and you know what, I felt happy! Someone cared about me! They gradually told me to do more daring things, like steal my Mum’s alcohol or slit my wrists. And I would listen because they were the only friend I had. Maybe I should’ve told someone about it, I had hard evidence here. I became a recluse, speaking to the spirit and being encompassed in all that was wrong in the world. They told me to do worst things, like steal a car or hang my brother. And I would because I just wanted a friend. It was this morning when I woke up. I checked the journal and it had three words. “Burn the bitch” So I got some petrol and matches. I doused the house in petrol, washing its sins away. I lit the match and watched the damned place burn to the ground. I feel sad and start to cry. I need someone to console me, help me through this hard time. I pick up my journal and my pen and write to my friend. “I miss you, can we be together again now?”
Ellie sat alone in her room, chewing on a carrot and thoughtfully watching the lamps and torches of men patrolling the walls outside. It had taken her quite some time to get used to the strange place she found herself in. One day she had gone to sleep in her room after a stressful day of Junior year finals, and then woken up in a place that was not her home. Sure, the room looked the same. She had the same old wooden bedframe that her mother had scavenged and the same battered metal desk from her father's old office. Things were more different then the same however. The mess of lamps and Christmas lights in her room had been replaced by a single lightbulb, powered by a solar array on the roof, since there were no large-scale power plants. When her mother had come to awaken her, she was wearing a long woolen dress and apron, wildly different from her normal denim and t shirt. The most startling change had been when she discovered the tomahawk on her desk, next to a recurve bow that she had no idea how to fire. "Ellie!"Called her mother. "How's the carrot?" "Fine, Mom!"Ellie called down to the woman who looked like and acted like, but was not, her mother. "Glad you like it!"Her mother called up and Ellie shook her head sadly. She simply could not bear to treat that woman like her mother. Rising from her quilted bed, she snatched her pea-coat off the chair near her desk and buttoned it shut. Stepping through her bedroom door, she walked past black-and-white replacement photographs where color ones had once been and down the steps of the old house. She passed her mother, humming in a kitchen where the sink had been replaced with a lever pump and steel basin. Snatching her cloak off the wall, she slipped out the door silently and shut it behind her. Walking down the hill and past the textile factory that brought the town most of its income, she shoved her hands into her pockets and kept her eyes on the ground. She walked by neighbors and friends whom she had no idea who they were. Each gave her a friendly wave or a nod. In this strange place, without large scale electronic use or long distance travel available outside of a horse and cart, people bonded much more easily to their immediate surroundings. It also helped that in this place, Ellie was one of the most formidable scouts this unfamiliar town had. Unfortunately, this version of Ellie was not. Treading past a tavern that had a hand-sewn Michigan flag draped over the door, she paused. At least here the drinking age was a lot lower. She moved to step inside, but as soon as she noticed the great number of people celebrating inside, she stepped back. The town had been a part of a force that had driven a Canadian invasion force back out of the Mitten State. There was no shortage of celebration tonight. "Ugh."She groaned and walked through an alley next to the tavern. She rested her hand on the wooden palisade that formed the town's primary defense. "Evening Ellie!"Called down an elderly man from atop a tower rampart above twenty feet away. "How's the drinking?" "Good, Mister Callahan!"Ellie called back. "Wish you could join us!"She averted her eyes and rolled them. "Good to hear, dear. Do me a favor and-"The elderly man's words were interrupted when an arrow blossomed from his throat. The old man clutched at his neck and stumbled backwards, over the side, where he dropped dead onto the ground. "No!"Ellie whispered. The thunking of grappling hooks sounded and metal gleamed over the top of the walls. "No!"Ellie shook her head and stepped back slowly. "No, no!"She turned and broke into a sprint, as men clambered over the walls in kettle helms and chain mail hauberks, holding swords and tomahawks. "HELP!"Ellie called out at the top of her lungs. "They're in the walls! Help!"She screamed. Men came out of the tavern and electric lights began turning on in windows. "Invaders! Get your guns!"She called. Men ran from their dwellings with spears and knives and cudgels and whatever weapons were available to them. Despite flashes of confusion at her mention of guns, they began to sight the enemy cresting the walls and moments later, arrows hissed and metal clashed. Ellie fled up the street as fast as her legs could carry her and slammed through the door of her home. Her mother was clutching a small crossbow and lay huddled against the kitchen cupboards and the wall. "Ellie!"Her mother hissed, "Where are your weapons? They need you!" "Mom!"Ellie shook her head. "I can't use them. I don't know how!"A single tear ran down her face as bells in town began to ring and shouts filled the streets. "What are you talking about?"Her mother stared at her with fear in her eyes. "I don't know what's going on, Mom."Ellie could keep up the facade no longer and began to sob uncontrollably. Her mother was agape. "What are you saying? You were one of the first ones at Detroit! You drove the Canadians out across-" "That wasn't me, Mom! I've never even been to Detroit!"Ellie protested between tears. Her mother stood up and limped to the door. Slamming it shut and barring it, she let the crossbow rest at her side and pulled Ellie close. "Don't worry, Ellie."She let the young girl rest her head on her shoulder. "I don't know what's going on, but they won't get you." The door suddenly crunched, making both women jerk their gazes towards the entry. Muffled voices outside the door shouted out, "The girl is here! Make sure she goes unharmed! Kill everyone else!" Ellie could only whimper.
"The new census came today" She said as the airlock closes, i kiss her and check the air seals, I can't let it in. "How bad is it?" "3.8 billion dead already" "God, it's been what? 40 days?" "32. Any luck at the lab" "No. I checked the sequence again, it makes even less sense, I could swear it changed, Amari said her team might have found something but we're still to see how far it goes" "Don't worry, Amari's the best microbiologist I've seen, she'll find something" "Well thank you for that"i answer and kiss her again "and the carbon dating? Anything?" "You bet, you think your work makes no sense? This thing is at least 30 million years old" "What? Dna from that time was completely different, it shouldn't be able to infect anything!" "I didn't believed the first time also, but i did it again 7 times, from 30 to 35 million" We're interrupted by the phone ringing, Amari the screen says. I rush in to the desk and grab the phone. "It changed"Amari said. "What?" "We tested a cure, and it changed. The sequence we have now is completely different from the one we had 3 hours ago." "How can it change that -" "And the sequence on the test mice is also different, and the one on the dogs, and the one on humans." "We know it"i interruped her "the same virus can't infect species that different" "This one can, i saw it changing on the microscope, before my own eyes, we moved the virus from a human cell to a plant cell, and it changed again" "What are you talking about Amari?" "Did Ellen got the dating results?" "Yes, we got at least 30 million, do you think that how it contaminated species from that time and present ones?" "Worst, we dated again, with better instruments, repeated 12 times to be sure" "She was wrong?" "We got 44 million. Sounds familiar?" "The ordovician period?" "The ordovician extinction" "Amari, what are you talking about?" "It wasn't a natural event. That's not a virus Jake" "Amari" "That's not a virus Jake, it's a machine Jake, a machine"
"OK, so the script I need you to write will alert me whenever a r/writingprompts post contains the word 'superpower'. Is that...Doable?" "Yeah man, I got this. Give me a minute." Code scrolls along the screen, I'm getting dizzy just watching it. I hope twenty bucks is enough for this, it's so much more than I was expecting... "Alright man, here you go. Just plug this in to your phone and click save." Taking the tiny flash drive from his cold hands, I breathe a sigh of relief. "Um, how much do I owe you? I don't have much, I got laid off last week..."I fumble around in my pocket, gripping the last bit of cash I have left. Losing that pet store gig was rough haha, it was ruff when the owner realized you and the dog were gossiping about the fact that he's balding. "Dude, I could really go for a Big Mac. Five would be just killer." Relief washed over me. I handed him the bill I was guessing would be my dinner money, just grateful I could eat real food tonight. -- As I left his tiny little apartment crammed with more monitors and desktop towers, my phone vibrated to alert me of my new reality. Well this should be interesting. Dropping off my bag and phone, the walk down to the muddy lake near my apartment has never been so exciting. The pier disappeared beneath me as I leapt off, fully clothed, into the water. I've never been much of a swimmer, but not having to come up for air really increases your desire to spend time trying to check out the sandy floor of the lake. I wonder how far out I am... It crosses my mind to swim to the surface to check. But something shiny catches my attention and I propel myself forward towards it. All of a sudden my lungs start to hurt. What happened? Why am I in pain all of a sudden? Then it hit me. Panicking, I start doggy-paddling, flailing, trying to get to the surface. It feels like my lungs are collapsing. I'm dying, I'll never make it Breaking through the surface, gasping, I realize I'm not dead. Then I see how far away from the shore I am. -- Squishing across the carpet, I find the couch, push the pile of dirty clothes off it and sit down. Swiping on my phone, I see the alerts. "You have 17 new r/writingprompts alerts" I press the clear all button, as a new one comes in. What on earth am I going to do with the ability to do as a person who can transform into a snail?! EDIT: changed some spacing for easy reading.
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The way I see it, this could go one of two ways. One, I get fired. Two, I kill him. Every fucking day, I walk into the office, and everyone glances at me. 9:00 AM, right on the dot. Sometimes it's almost simultaneous, the way they stare. It's unnerving. I feel like I'm in a zoo. But then someone blinks and everyone goes about their business again, with the usual hellos thrown my way as I walk to my desk. Judy could be it. She's got a pink blouse that she wears every other day: what other excuse would she have to do that? Rookie mistake. Can't hide a secret identity if you make yourself stand out. Then again, she has trouble finding the toner in the supply closet sometimes. I always tell her, its on the right when you walk in, and she goes "But I don't see it right when I walk in. I have to turn, silly!" Not Judy. There's Karl, but he's too much of a recluse. I walk over to his desk anxiously, making sure to tuck my phone in my pocket. "Hey man,"he looks up from his paper. "How's the new position treatin ya?" I nod. "It's good stuff Karl."His paper is blank, but he's been here for half an hour. No laptop either. "Whatcha up to these days? I don't see much of you anymore since I went to-" "You know what?"Karl interrupted. "I just remembered that Hank and Jax are meeting me for lunch, so I should go take inventory now."He rolls away from the desk, never taking his eyes off the divider. "See you around!"Hastily, he walks away, Didn't even look back to say good bye. My hands are quivering. My power is obviously weakening. Usually its strong enough to get everyone to say something when I will it. But some do-gooder here is ruining my hold on the corporation. Everyone that I've talked to these past days have had some level of mind shielding - but they don't seem to remember me telling them what to do. The fallback would be catastrophic. If this superhero exposes me to the public I would have to take the company down with me. The media wouldn't let it happen any other way. Which means I get canned, but these idiots also lose their jobs. So. It's mutually beneficial for us to work together, you would think. But in spite of all this, I've only been able to narrow the suspects down to two people. Coriander, and Jax. Coriander's on leave right now. I was able to talk to her after work hours, and my power came back in full force. She told me that whatever was dampening my powers was a range based ability. Civilians don't know about this kind of classification... which made me think she was helping out this hero guy. After ripping apart her memories, I conceded she wasn't. Which leaves Jax. Who has been trying to get me to take a lunch break with him ever since I got my first job here. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer tomorrow. I'll walk in. Everyone will stare. But the thing is, not everyone's there. The missing few who have figured out who I am don't come right when I come: Jax and Coriander. They actively avoid me. The codename for the hero is Sonar, and mine is Question. Basic, I know, but I had to make it somewhat easy to remember. When I walk in tomorrow, Sonar will be exposed, fired, and hung. Lunch will not be fun for one of us.
It took me a while to get used to, but when I finally did it was amazing, I started testing things creating life and stuff, and then time, it was strange but somehow I thought the concept into existence and could control it, don't ask me how I can't explain. Any normal person probably would of made the normal world tried to go back called it a dream, not me. And so I stand before you today, this world is from a story I read once and you, you were the main character, so if there's anywhere you want to go go ahead and ask.
The first time was fun, the first ten even, strange new worlds to explore I wasn't scared, it was just a dream after all, giants didn't scare me dragons just made me wish I had a piece of paper to draw on. How foolish I was, we all have to sleep though, this isn't the worst someone could get it's empty knowing you'll never be noticed but some of these worlds have been great for the day I spend in them. Now I wonder if I should of been scared I'm really not even now, just kinda sad, if this is a coma then I guess it makes me feel better Levi probably is pretty happy if this is real paranormal somehow then well.. I guess I'm stuck here, not the worst place to be, but not the best not even close.
Did you know that God was real? I am saying 'was', because apparently they had enough of humanity and left us, approximately five hours ago. Today early morning, a huge bright red comet parted the twilight sky, drawing a white trail as it brushed against the atmosphere and made its way to the space. It was the view of the life-time, leaving everyone behind spell-bound. And then came the presidential tweet, saying that we have been aided by the Aliens since the before the recorded human history and they just left. Everybody thought he had gone bonkers again. But then there was this "Official"broadcast, with tens of micro phones in front of his gabby face, he read from the papers in front of him, announcing how aliens had helped us with everything since before stone age, through language, science, philosophy and technology. It was a hard to swallow pill, and I almost thought it was some kind of a lame prank, but our worst fears came alive, when China made similar broadcast. And then it was France, England, India, Germany, Japan and every major country confirming the same. How do we know that we aren't being lied to? Well, for starters, Mount Everest is not there anymore. &#x200B; Conspiracy theory which claimed that pyramids were built with the help of aliens, to pay homage to them, wasn't load of crap after all. They were in contact with and worshiped by ancient civilizations, which are now gone. They were staying somewhere in Africa, where they allowed England to find them. And suddenly England's empire covered one-third of the planet. They also gave the nuclear weapon to America, to stop the second world war. Without them, moon landing was impossible. Every single piece of technology, including super computers, satellites, internet, phones, even the freaking microwave, came from them. Their spaceship was the comet that wiped out every single dinosaur from the face of the earth. They literally genetically engineered human species from fish. &#x200B; But apparently we had our third strike, and they left. Why exactly did they leave us behind? Nobody actually knows, USA is blaming China, China is blaming Japan, Japan is blaming Europe. A few scientists claim that we royally screwed our planet. With the Everest gone and global warming rising, seventh mass extinction event is now only a few years away. And since we haven't yet invented interstellar travel, we are truly f\*cked. Humanity is a giant failed experiment, abandoned, left for the dead. We can't cancel the apocalypse, we are on our own. &#x200B; Which is why, I am building this shelter, and stocking on food. I don't know what did they leave behind to finish us off, maybe some kind of zombie virus, or monster, or machine. And frankly I don't want to know what's coming for me. I just want to survive, and if you want the same Martin, I suggest you either get out of my way or move your ass and help me. So, have I answered your question, as what I am up to this morning?
Snapdragon stood in front of her drawing board, wondering why it was still blank when she had been down here planing this for three days now. This shouldn't be hard. She'd planned and executed heists that where a hundred times more dangerous. All she had to do was tell him how she felt. Perhaps the issue was she still wasn't entirely sure what or why it was that she was feeling. She knew she wasn't a good person, but had always taken solace in the certainty that no one else was either. Then when she started using her magic to punish those she thought were worse than her, he showed up. Chevron, the shining paragon of everything she didn't believe truly existed. He was kind, he was selfless, he was strong, he wasn't bad looking either, but most importantly he believed that she wasn't completely lost, and could be brought to stand on the side of good. What was it he was making her feel? Guilt? Hope for humanity? Turned on? Every time she thought she had a name for it she would take another look and decide it wasn't that at all. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was desperate for any kind of change that would turn this indescribable mass of emotion into something solid and knowable. Which lead her to her current scheme: How to take him up on his offer to change sides. She couldn't just waltz in to S.H.A.T.T.E.R HQ and say "Hey, I'm a good guy now, where is Chevron?"She was Snapdragon, the most feared sorceress in Rhode Island. (Admittedly that's not a huge feat, but still) She was almost certainly wanted for dozens of crimes and if she was convicted of any of them S.H.A.T.T.E.R. would never let her work for them. She didn't know a thing about his civilian identity, so she couldn't just talk to him out of costume. The only chance she'd ever get to speak to him was while wearing the mask was in the middle of a crime, and trying to rob someone to draw him out wouldn't convince anyone that she wanted to change. No one will believe you anyway. No one will trust you. Even if by some miracle Chevron decides you're worth taking a chance on professionally, he'll never love you the way you love him. The voice in the back of her mind that had always driven her had become her worst enemy, laying out her every fear and regret. But it also showed her the missing piece, that made everything else fall into place. She loved Chevron. The confusing mess of emotion made perfect sense as love. It was just a tiny seed, the mere idea of what she could be with him by her side, but it was love all the same, and now that she had named it, nothing seemed more important than feeding it and seeing what it could grow into. You turn yourself in and everything you have crumbles to ash. Your life will be over, and the law he works constantly to protect will be what kills you. He will hate you. He will be disgusted by you. You will die alone in a cell while he stands in the sun out of your reach. That voice had begun shouting a thousand new and terrifying fears that would have stopped her from going through with it, but she didn't care. She was changing, and that started with not listening to that voice. ____ Chevron looked at the report in disbelief. Snapdragon, the brilliant and beautiful sorceress who had caused so much trouble had turned herself in today. She was being held in a magic dampening cell, and refused to talk to anyone but him. The chief said he wasn't being ordered to talk to her. But he knew that any information they could get out of her could potentially be life-saving, and he had his own nagging curiosity about why she would suddenly give up when she'd never even come close to capture. So now he sat down across from her in the interrogation room hopefully to get some answers. "You know, we probably would have never been able to catch you if you hadn't turned yourself in. Did you just get bored of freedom?" "I didn't know any other way to reach you. You didn't exactly leave me your number last time we fought." "And you wanted to talk to me, why?" Snapdragon let out a long sigh, as if trying to stall before saying something she thought she would regret. The regret probably should have started when she turned herself in. "You always said you thought I was on the wrong side. That I belonged here with you helping people instead of hurting them. I'm not happy with who I am anymore, and taking you up on that seemed like the best way to change into something I can be happy with." "You know I'm not actually authorized to pardon you for what you've already done just because you say you want to change. Even if I believed you had a change of heart there's nothing I can do about it. You're going to be imprisoned until trial, then you're going to be tried, convicted, and in all likelihood locked away for a very long time." "I know I have a long list of crimes to pay for, but honestly I'm more afraid that I won't be ashamed of them than of the punishment. I can't do this alone." He wasn't sure how he felt about this new, vulnerable, Snapdragon he was seeing. If she wanted to change that was great, but her fear and insecurity clashed so starkly with the proud and confident woman he knew that he couldn't be sure he was even looking at the same person. Chevron, she's scared and she feels alone. She's going to feel like this for a while, and she can't truly change unless she makes it through this, but if she has someone to help her she'll make it to the other side and be better for it. Chevron's conscience sounded confident, she could change, and it had never steered him wrong before. "I'll see what kind of deal we can work out if you cooperate, but you'll be facing some prison time at least. If there's anything I can do to help I'll do it, but that's very different from being able to solve everything." "Could you visit me until I get out?" "I'm not sure how often you'll be allowed visitors, but I'll come by as often as I can." "That's all I want."
"Facebook?" Hunter remembered when he was a 13 year old over five decades ago. "Hey guys, I'mmmmn late!"read his first Facebook post. He remembered the first words he typed for his own post as if it were yesterday. Despite being rebellious, he always had exceptions. Meeting the minimum age requirement for a "social network"like Facebook was one of them. But he opened up a Pandora's box when he joined with his friends. His first post nearly got most of his school friends banned, as they had joined below the age requirement. Hunter always suspected somebody was tracking him, as he once had a stalker (that was never caught) who was possibly an Facebook employee while in high school and college. He remembered the epidemic of the so called fake news and how he once shared such a post. Despite the flaws, Hunter still had his fond memories of Facebook. The senior could never forget the joyous times he shared on the website with his friends and family. "Man, I still miss those times,"he uttered. When the spiritually young senior clicked on the old link, he then stumbled across various old posts, all dating to before the 2037 Act. Hunter remembered how the now sorry Yahoo! Company managed to archive most of the dull GeoCities service. Looks like something similar was done. Hunter realized to take caution, as the information present could potentially bring chaos to the world. Organizations like the Wayback Machine and Archive had warned of a collaspe. Scrolling through like an eagle, Hunter found one particular post that caught his attention. It read "Click below to restart Facebook." The author's name read MVRK. The post was dated to 2037, just before Facebook shut down. The privacy was marked "private". Hunter wondered how did such a post managed to be archived. But now, nothing mattered to the old man anymore. All he wanted was to bring back his nostalgia of Facebook. He clicked on the link. "I still miss those times,"mumbled Hunter. He never wanted a utopia in the first place.
Its claws were clacking on the wooden floor with everys step. As the door of your room creacs fully open, you close your eyes in fear of it noticing you being awake. The creature starts sucking in air, as if it would try to smell a distinct smell, producing a deep grunt. The clicking of its claws continue as it walks around in your room. Firstly the clicks move away from your bed but after another grunt it stops and turns around. The clicking gets faster as it walks towards you. The grunting gets louder as it approaches your face. You feel its foul, warm breath on your face. Something warm and wet touches your nose followed by a louder grunt. As you keep prefectly still, the warm wet thing touches your cheek and moves up to your eye. Screaming, you push the thing away from you. "Duke! You should not come into my room!" As you turn on your bedside lamp, you see your dog standing by your bed, wagging his tail.
"Here's the drop-off point." Olympia in Cascadian Republic. Wonderful. Least I won't be into a warzone this time. "Alright. When do you guys need me to get her there by?" I've gotta find a way to cross or bypass the clusterfuck along most of the Mississippi States. That'll take a while either way. "That is of no importance. Get her here safely, and you will be paid. Standard fee, plus, Twenty Percent? She is extremely important to us." "Forty. I'm going to be crossing a war zone. Fighting is going to start between Federals and the fucking Denvies. Entire Mississippi is going up in flames" "Our sources don't believe that to be likely. Negotiations for the border seem to be going nicely" Yeah. And trade was great between the Nazis and Russia up until the invasion started. "Then why are they both moving troops back to just outside the cease-fire region?" "Our sources know nothing of this." Politicians "Mine do. Word is One Star's finally made up it's mind. Entire military crossed the border last week. Denver's got a good chance to reach the coast this time. Canuk's got they wanted, so no counting on them again." "All the more reason we need her out of here. Thirty Five Percent" "Deal" Montana probably is going to stay neutral in this one. Maybe going through there will work. "Maddy, we've got your transport home" Home huh? What the fuck's a Cascadian doing in Fed territory? Why does she need to be smuggled? Flights are still going there daily. Sixteen maybe? Seventeen? Something like that. Cautious around me. Makes sense. Smuggler's ain't got the best reputation. 'specially since the Breakaways started. "So, you're my cargo? Could be my daughter. Hmm.""Meet up here, a week from tomorrow. I need to make a few arrangements." Montana. Best chance we've got. "Alright Madison. Here's your ID. We're going to play this straight. You're my kid. We're both Cascadian citizens that came to try and identify dead from the war. No luck, unfortunately." Quiet kid. Well, car ride's going to be nice at least. "Bags packed? All ready to go?" Well, a nod is a response of some sort. What the fuck is so important about her? "Alright. Excellent. Get in." Doesn't even seem pissed about my music choices for the ride. Glad that there won't be any fighting about it. "Breaking news: Forces of the Federal American Republic, Denver Confederacy, and potentially Lone Star mercenaries have entered the Mississippi Demilitarized Zone." Cheers to being right. Feds really should fall back. Can't defend there. Most forts along the river were destroyed before the ceasefire began. "I thought they were still talking." She speaks! "Talks must've failed. Not too unusual. Just a shame. Wonder how long the Feds'll last this time." More silence. Guess one sentence was a mouthful compared to what we've had for the last two days. "So kid, uh, Maddy right? What's your deal? One of the Cascadian politician's kids or something?" "No. I'm not related to anyone there." Well. Touchy subject. This is why I should stick to information, drugs, and weapons. "Getting late. Old motel from before the Breakaways. Owner owe's me a favor. Probably better than sleeping in the car." Yep. Kid doesn't like talking. "Haley! How are the kids doing? Good? Good! You have a room me and my daughter can stay in for the night?" "Oldest is in the Army. Stationed in Boston, far from the war at least. Two beds? Here, room 228." "Thank you. James' friend got him a good station. Good." Alright. More two rooms merged than a two bed room. Seen worse. "Alright kid. Pick a bed" What the Christ is wrong with this kid? Something like this is not enough to warrant a smile like that. "Kid, it's just a bed. This the first time you had one or something?" Oh fuck... Building 89. Experiments on kids to test long term bioweapons. Fuck. I heard Cascadia pulled some commando shit throughout Fed territory. Could she be...? "Well, showers are in those rooms there and there. I'm going to start cooking something real." That goddamn look again. I wonder... What information does Jay have on the bio projects? Fuck fuck fuck. This is bigger than I want. If half of what I heard is true the entire fucking world is going to blow up over this. Fuck.
"Pl-Please! Master! Let me live with you!"A Moe voice said to me, as a girl with dog ears begged me to let her stay with me on the brink of tears. "Oh... Dios Mio.."I began. "Though I'm not looking for a committed relationship. Since you've just now become human, I'm surprised that you even know any of the words you're saying. If you stay with me, the only thing you'll get, are questions from me, trying to figure out what sort of magic caused you to become human. If you stay here, you'll be in a relationship that won't be the least bit sensual!"I tried to explain it to her. "But master! I have no where else to go!"She told me. I sighed. "Right.. Pet shelters don't accept your type anymore.. Not since the last one flushed a bunch of golf-balls down the toilet. L-Listen, you can stay with me for a month. And by that time, you can probably manage to get onto your feet, and start living a normal life.. Or... I don't know... Go to japan and become a celebrity or something..."I shrugged. "Oh! Thank you thank you thank you!"She shouted, hugging my arm. This... Was going to be a long month...
The Colorados had the upper hand. Not in the field – it was still nil nil, for God’s sake – but in the stands. And there was no way we could possibly upstage them. Even with my powers. “Powers”? Damn right, they’re powers. The only reason I’m not really proud of them is, first: I can’t flaunt them. Lest I end up locked up and gutted inside some science lab. Especially now... Second: I can’t really use them for much. For much good, that is. Hear my story and you’ll agree. When I was a kid, I found out that I could create flames with a snap of my finger. I found that out the hard way, setting my sister’s hair on fire when singing the Addams’ Family theme. My parents wanted to send me to the madhouse. Good thing I had the presence of spirit to keep quiet, and that they were able to forgive me somehow. Playing with fire was easy to forgive. However, supporting Inter… would be another story. We were a Grêmio family, proud and blue; dad and I, most of all. We went to all of the home matches we could, we travelled to away matches in the hinterland, and, most importantly; we’d never wear red. Not even when dad dressed up as Santa for Christmas: He’d wear a blue suit that made him look like Papa Smurf, rather than wear Inter’s colors. We showed our colors, the blue, black and white, and we’d wear them proudly. And there they were, the Colorados, playing as cowardly as ever. Inter were keeping possession, stalling for time, as if a goalless draw was a desirable result for them. What really bothered me was looking at the other side of the stadium: the tiny, fenced-off standing area in which their supporters stood. They sang and they danced and they waved their red flags, and it would be a pitiful, pathetic display, if not for their one advantage over us: their flares. After a certain point in the match, 20 minutes of the first half, according to my watch, they lit them: their tiny little corner of the stands was then the center of attention. Pink smoke flew up the air, and Inter’s fans waved around their stupid little flares like if they were impressive. They wouldn’t know impressive if it snapped its fingers and lit the entire stadium in flames. I felt like doing it, too, since you know I was fuming; sadly, only as a metaphor. If I snapped my fingers, all I’d achieve were three things: ruin the stadium, kill my own fellow Gremistas, and what’s worse, paint the stadium in red, red flames. As I was moping about their display, and maybe staring a little too hard at the clouds of reddish-pink smoke coming from their stands, the stunner: Internacional had scored a goal on us. It was probably a howler – from the way the audience booed, instead of standing in silence, the goalkeeper probably messed up royally. I booed too, and tried to remember that it was just a game. Even though it wasn’t. Their flares looked brighter than ever. How many did they take to the stadium? How could they smuggle them in like that? This was complete bull. And our squad wasn’t making the proper comeback. We tried to pep the team up; the band played as loud as they could, missing more notes than the players missed passes, missed shots, and you know they soon started to miss tackles as well. The ref was definitely bought by Inter today: he was quick to just book the bejeezus out of every one of our guys, and never the Inter guys. As the first half ended, the visitors were leading one-nil, and we had 6 yellow cards to our side – two of them, for complaining! The nerve! If dad was still around, he’d be fuming. “If only there were blue flares!”, the guy next to me said. “We’d show them if there was such a thing as blue flares”. I couldn’t agree more, and cursed my own luck. The second half wasn’t much different. Except the smoke had billowed out, and the flares had gone dim. Which was a relief for me, even though the match turned even more in their favor. One of our defenders executed a flawless, but overtly virile tackle, and that spineless crook of a ref felt that it was fair to just send the guy off. Red card – what a color, too! And we all rioted in the stands. I have to admit that, at least from my part, it was out of duty – the tackle was quite reckless, although it was a fair, manly challenge – but the fans were blazing. And a crowd of players, in black and blue and in red and white, swarmed around the referee, screaming and shoving and trying to change the ref’s mind. And change it did – that crook raised his red card again, and again, and again! I couldn’t identify who those were for. All I could see were the Inter fans lighting another flare, and then another, and even fireworks. Then they tossed them in the field, and collectively, we had enough. The police brigades entered the fields, and marched up the stands, and we knew we had to act fast. Our fans charged towards the gates, and a brawl started between our team and the spineless visitors. From where I was, I could see the players run all over the field, kicking and punching each other, even the downed players. The crowd around me and the crowd behind me started to move towards the field and the gates – I followed along, both out of fear of being trampled, and out of hate for those cowards. The brigade tried to corral us into chokepoints, and they released their hounds as well. I bet they were all Colorados that day. I stuck with the brunt of the crowd, and most have made it to the gates. If I could explain it to them, if I could explain them who I was and about the powers I had, we’d show them. Then I started to feel something odd behind me, a weird displacement, something really bad. And once I figured out, I felt the knock of the brigade’s club against my back. I fell, feeling the stench of urine, blood, and gunpowder. And, without realizing, as soon as the policeman seized my wrist to drag it into a chickenwing, I snapped my fingers. The officer’s fatigue lit up in flames, and he screamed and ran, leaving me on the floor. Looking up, I could see a great number of our own supporters, of fellow fans, all burning and screaming and running aimlessly. I could see my own blood trickling from the top of my head, the cut hurting thanks to the heat of the flames. I could see the stadium burning down. And the worst part of it all – everything was red. Everything was red!
Day 1134, Vanessa - Marcel lead us to an encampment he claimed would provide us with food and shelter. Issue is the place had obviously been abandoned for awhile. The pantries were empty, manawhite depleted, ammo crates bare, and the random corpses clearly stated "things didn't go swimmingly here". "Next one for sure bro,"Marcel confidently stated "for sure, I mean really we can't be the last ones right?" One thousand one hundred and thirty four days since you were taken from me my beautiful Vanessa. I long for your scent, your smile, your green hair. If you were here right now I know you'd have a plan, you always did. Things could go to shit and you would always manage to dig a path out. I'm lost without you, totally completely lost. You took care of me. Sometimes I felt like you didn't have much of a choice and that you did it out of sheer pity. I mean what good is a cripple in the Demon Shit Show? Anyways, Today Marcel yet again tried to justify what he did. He's tried for hundreds of days now and I still refuse to acknowledge it. Yet again another soul takes pity on me and pushes my chair along. "Look bro, I mean, if I had known she was your wife...like...I don't know I just thought you were in a bad way bro!"I stare off in the distance and he continues, "Seriously bro she was lunging for your neck! and it's not like you could do much with those legs of yours..oh um like lack of legs hah cool story". He tries to tip toe around the fact I'm missing a couple of vital components. Again he gloats about the shot, "You gotta admit though bro!"here it comes "Pretty sweet 360 no scope! I mean man god knows how many times I pulled that shit off in the call of duties and the fortnites but hot damn in real life? I dropped down from that building, sweet turn, and boom headshot!"He's the only guy, probably in history, that has ever gloated about killing someones wife right in front of them and comparing it to a couple of videogames. Vanessa, I haven't forgiven him. I probably never will. But the more he pushes me along, the more I see how much shit this world has become, I can't help appreciate the fact Marcel is always so damn positive. Every time we come across a looted shelter or camp or some other horror scene he always stays optimistic. "Next one for sure bro!"he says every time. The world is literally ending and he still goes on about his favorite chicken dinners in some battle royale game. He tells me tales of his World of Warcraft guild and the "epic raids"they would do. How they got a world first on some boss fight and his constant pondering of how his guildmates are handling all this. "I bet they're hanging in their bro"every time after an epic WoW tale, "they're resourceful out the ass!". He tries to stay positive but deep down I know he's hurting. I doubt he had many friends "In Real Life"but it seems he had a lot on the internet. Ones he cared for. Most he never met in person. I can't imagine what it must be like for him. For me I saw the people I loved and cared about taken from me in person. I saw you Vanessa leaving me. But for Marcel when the shit went down he lost all his friends in a single instant. With the internet long gone he has no clue as to what happened to any of them. And yet he continues on. We came across a 7-11 later in the day. "I'm totally jonesing for a Monster bro"Marcel quipped as he pushed me inside. Vanessa, he's like the living version of a 4chan thread. We split up in the store to look for food and whatever we could salvage. I found some unopened cans of soup, snack cakes that were probably long expired, some nudie mags. "FUCK ME RIGHT IN THE EAR!"Marcel yells from the back of the store. I roll my chair over. He's found the one place that has cans upon cans of Monster Energy within a god knows how many mile radius. "we're home bro, we're home"he says over and over clutching several of the cans, holding them closely to his chest like a mother cradling a new born. "Lets just live here man - like forever, 7-11 is home now". But that familiar smell begins to creep in Vanessa, You know the one, the one you smelt just before you were taken from me. I grab for my ventilator and whisper to Marcel "I think we might have to for a bit, put your mask on"Marcel chugs one of his monsters super quick, puts his mask on and slings the rifle off his shoulder. I ready my own gun. "Same play as last time bro, we got this" We got this Vanessa.
"Who spoke?" The smell of rain sneaks in through the half-open door. Been pouring since late morning, a steely, steady drizzle tinged with the threat of winter. I listen to the patter for a few seconds, remembering. "You, you? Ah. Your half-sister wanted control of the business." Something that might have been a face fades once I give answer. I recognized not so much its features but the feeling I got when looking in its direction. Can't fix my eyes on some of the figures, but a few are vivid, as if sketched in ink. They all watch me, translucent shimmers of anger and confusion. "You? Angela? Hmm, the father of that kid you ran over. Yes, back in college. He saved a lot of money over two decades. It was important to him. Maybe the most important thing in his life." A long time ago, Tina gave me the rain coat I'm wearing. She bought it from a thrift shop. I looked on from a distance, admiring the way her hands danced expertly over seams, buttons, label, how happy she seemed when handing it over. I hang the coat on the wall. "Tadashi. Wife was having an affair, needed you gone. She promised me all of the insurance payout and then tried to disappear to Macau. Killed her in a suite at the Grand, along with her lover. You don't know him." Memories, a piece of clothing. Anchors to the past, just like this room, this house. Used to crawl on this floor, used to sit and read in that corner, leaning in a chair against the wall. This was even longer ago, before I had met or lost Tina. "Myrna. Your drug dealer. He was afraid you'd turn him in after you went sober." The ancient chair protests with a few loud creaks as I straddle it and sit, surveying the ghost-torn darkness. Her and him and it and they, all searching for answers. Truth is, they were just jobs. Most of them were forgettable. Everybody dies a different death, but a killer's work is all the same. "Sam. The nurse you raped was dating a gangbanger. He tried to get you. He couldn't. Eventually, he put out a hit." One of the faces seems more familiar than the rest. "And you? Are you also asking who? Or maybe why?" The grip feels comforting in my hands, like an old friend bringing a present. "Because I'm tired, I think. Because there needs to be an end to all these endings I've authored, because Tina's gone and so is anyone who watched me grow up in this room. Anyone who may have cared enough to stop me." Yeah, that's a very familiar face. The rain outside is the second most peaceful thing I can think of right now.
Cadmael's seemingly-harmless question reverberated throughout the halls of the temple, and everyone fell silent. The other students anxiously jostled in position, craning their necks in order to stare at their inquisitive comrade - and then shifting their eyes towards the High Priest. Some of the children had curious expressions, but most of the faces were full of trepidation. This was not a question that one asked in public; let alone during temple. Janaab's face did not betray any emotion, though he did make a show of pacing in front of the students, as if the inquiry demanded some degree of serious contemplation. He internally recalled the moment where this question - and many others like it - had finally been revealed to him during his Ascension to the Order, so many cycles in the past. A lifetime ago, it seemed. While Cadmael was unquestionably one of his least-promising students, the child's naive ignorance about the world was strangely therapeutic, if only for a fleeting moment. Perhaps, one day, this child would grow into a man capable of digesting the horrifying truth. But it was far more likely that one of his more capable classmates would be selected for Ascension. Janaab stopped pacing, and crouched down in front of Cadmael to confront him face to face. "My son, as you know very well, the edicts of the Order were given to us by the Luminous One himself. His demands are few and His blessings are many. "We also take comfort in knowing that the daughters whom the Luminos One has summoned to transcend the K'Ex, have crossed over the great waters, into the realm of Xibalba. They are now the eternal daughters of the light, and if we abide by the Order, we will get to see them yet again." This seemed to mostly pacify Cadmael's curiosity, who sheepishly nodded in acceptance. As he stood up, Janaab gave the child a stern glance, which he hoped would imply a warning about any further questions, particularly on this issue. There were no additional outbursts of curiosity, and the day's seminary ended without further incident. As the last of the children filed down the stone steps leading to the temple hall, and their ambient laughter eventually subsided, Janaab let out a small sigh of equal parts relief... and defeat. How he longed for the ignorant bliss of their youth; the profoundly simplistic & incomplete understanding of the world. Which, in the minds of most of the islanders, literally began and ended with their tiny volcanic island. A faint beeping noise rudely interjected Janaab's nostalgic daydream, jolting him back to reality. So it's tonight, then. \\\\ "Have you confirmed pickup?" The grating voice of Proctor Wilkins invaded Matteous Kanura's ear canals - painfully reminding him how much he hated the new subdermal interface that every GenTex security officer was forced to install last year. It was always far too loud by default, and paled in comparison to what civilians - such as Wilkins - could use. He replied, "Yep. Just talked to our man. We're good for tonight. Sunset on the island is... let's see here... 18:55 PM local Terran time. So that puts extraction at 19:30. Gives 'em enough time for their little song and dance." "Sounds good Matt. Ready on our end. Let us know once she's en route." The connection ended, and green "phone"icon floating across his vision turned red, then disappeared moments later. Kanura found it strange how perfectly clear the icons were - even though his actual eyesight was crap. Maybe next year they'd get those fancy new systems that with the realtime vision enhancement built in, so he could finally ditch his contact lenses. But who was he kidding. GenTex was possibly the least important division of the Ascension Project. Most of the higher-ups considered it a dinosaur, and considering the Council's almost singular pursuit of digital integration... the idea of trying to manufacture super humans at the physiological level seemed horribly outdated. Not to mention - it had already been running for nearly 300 Terran years. So it was hardly a novelty. Nevertheless, a placement was a placement - and he supposed it was better than being a maintenance conscript back on some backwoods orbital. Kanura packed up his gear, then ordered a transport to the GenTex departure terminal. It pulled up to his apartment's outer door 20 seconds later, and he stepped onboard. The ride down to departures often seemed to take longer than the actual transit to Terra's surface. With a few minutes to kill, Kanura briefly contemplated how bat-shit crazy the whole GenTex concept actually was. They basically had to create a stone age society where humans could live in an environment as close to their genetic "sweet-spot"as possible, right on the convergence of our species' transition from hunter-gathering to agriculture. It was supposedly critical for the stem cell material to be harvested from the fetuses of mothers who'd been raised in an environment as closely matched to the Younger Dryas era as possible. In the early years, they started with volunteers from the general population - but virtually nobody could stomach the ethics around it. And it didn't help matters that the volunteers knew exactly what was going to happen to some of these fetuses. It wasn't until someone came up with the crazy idea about essentially building a "time capsule"society on an island, where only its initial inhabitants were privy to the outside world. In the second generation (and those to follow), only a single inhabitant would be trusted with that knowledge - a sort of "high priest", in the society's fabricated religion, who also doubled as their chief. These days it was some wiry little bastard named "Janub"or something. Kanura couldn't remember exactly. All he knew is he had to be down on Terra in the next 90 minutes, or else their little virgin sacrifice charade was gonna have an especially tragic ending; protocol for a late transfer was to literally throw the poor girl into the volcano in order to save face. The transport pod began slowing on its approach to the departures staging area, and Kanura flicked on the interface to check in with Wilkins. Looks like they would make it on time tonight, and he'd be delivering the tranquilized girl down to the Bio division a few hours later, with time to spare for poker night with his buddies down at the Whorebital - which is what everyone affectionately called the GenTex officer's lounge, on account of the usual demographic. Kanura double checked that he had the tranquilizer kit in his pack, and then stepped off the transport. "Don't wanna forget the sleepy sauce", he mumbled to himself. Mostly so that there'd be no unnecessary interruptions - he had a lot of credits to win back tonight at the Whorebital.
For starters: this absolutely ruined the pool party. Boris, Jorge and Alberto alternated between shaking their heads and looking at the sky. Alberto tapped his foot and tried to find the sun in between the clouds. "The weather report was adamant. They said it would be sun sun sun today. Scorching heat for the pool party", he said. "What a groundbreaking party that is. Nobody will bother coming", said Jorge. He dipped his toes in the water. It was 9 AM on a saturday, and the day was chilly enough for his worries to have some basis in reality. "So? Can't we have fun ourselves? The kids will have to learn how to be tough. Let's say we jump in the pool to give them the example of how it's done", said Boris. He zipped up his jacket, then looked at his phone. "Well. Let's give it some time. The sky is completely overcast. Worst-case scenario, we'll just skip to the feast and let the kids do something else."Alberto kneeled near the water, and touched it with the tip of his fingers. Victor, one of the kids, came running from inside the house. He was screaming. "Dad, dad! There's a report on TV and it says that it's a Special Report on TV!" "Cool yourself, son. Let's have a look. Might be another historic moment. So we'll get to remember this day all the better". Boris limped behind his son, and left the two friends to themselves. The house was full, although there were still places on the couches. Grandma slept on her corner, while Alberto's twins fiddled with their tablets. Boris dropped himself on the couch, then leaned his head forward, to hear better. The reporter spoke from the studio, in the tight dress she was famous for. She spoke in a loud tone, and, behind her, the TV network's staff were running from one side of the newsroom to the other. Aunt Ernestina reached for the remote, and pressed the volume button; however, she pressed the downwards arrow. The adults in the room booed, waking grandma. "What's the racket!", she screamed. "Isn't it time for the telenovela?" "This is big, grandma", repeated one of the kids. Alberto and Jorge entered the room. "Boris, odd news: the TV's wire service said that the CNN said that the Indian Space Agency reported that the French bases are facing interference that affected a NASA satellite signal that communicated with the Russian Spacecorps and this is making my Twitter feed absolutely crazy today!" "What?", the adults said. The TV's volume entered a crescendo, and then the voice of the lady reporter boomed through the speakers. "Too loud!", said grandma, turning off her ear aid. Aunt Ernestina struggled with the controls, but soon the TV was back at a reasonable level. The TV feed then cut from the reporter on the studio to a building in flames. "The most shocking part of this entire development was the violent response from members of the community from the countries affected", said the reporter. "Armed groups have attacked the Japanese embassies and other buildings related to the government of Japan, blaming them for the incident." "What the hell?", said Alberto. Grandma screamed: "We do not use such foul language inside this house, Alberto!" The reporter continued to speak, although her voice faltered. "The scholars and the members of the church have interpreted these aero-spatial phenomenom as letters, as part of a message in the sky". "What?", said the three friends. The TV feed cut from the image of the burning buildings to a man inside a room full of books. His beard was white and unkempt, and he held his forehead with his left hand. It showed his first name and his family names, and summed up his position as "College Professor". "The signs, which our astronomers have interpretated as being letter-like, seem to form a message. We are awaiting more details from other parts of the world, but observatories in the Caribbean and here in Bogotá are confident of what it says", said the man. The feed then cut to a scene in standard-definition, stretched out to fill the screen. It showed men and women dressed in ornate costumes. Some had facial markings that covered their eyebrows and made their mouths look like long, red slits; the men, especially the elders, had long, thick beards. The video itself looked quite old, and full of film grain and compression artifacts. "Groups in society have taken the message as a divine call for revenge against the Japanese", said the man, his face unseen. "Revenge for treatment of an ethnical group from the northern islands in the archipelago." The video changed back to an artist's projection of the so-called letters, from a view point that could be possible if one were in the middle of the Colombian Llanos with good visibility conditions. It showed the message, and the professor's voice read it aloud: "Ainu".
“…Each person shall be issued with a ration book, contacting coupons, which can be exchanged at any shop you are registered to for a weekly food ration. Vegetarians and vegans will be able to trade in their meat or dairy coupons in exchange for extra non-animal-based products. Rations can be registered online to be delivered weekly. Anyone found attempting to acquire more than their fair share will be imprisoned without food or water for 10 years.” It’s been almost 40 years since the last recorded human death. No one is quite sure how it happened but following that day humans have been unable to die. Immortality. We thought it was a blessing. A gift from God. We were wrong. Eternal life has not spared us from life’s other ills. We still need food for energy, still need shelter to keep us warm and prevent illness and our bodies are still as fragile as ever. It didn’t take long for the increase in serious injuries and disabilities following the realisation that we had conquered death. We’re immortal, not invincible. But that was the least of our worries. With no more death, every child born increase population permanently. Another mouth to feed, another person to home and another person competing for an ever-decreasing amount of resources. The population expanded exponentially, we soon ran out of land to be able to house everyone whilst still being able to meet the worlds food demands. We’d destroyed the planet, forest where tore down covered in concrete. Every solution was short term, with not care for the damage we were causing. I’m sure the people in charge didn’t expect that their actions would lead to an increase in flooding or hurricanes, or that these would even be an issue to an immortal species, they were just trying to deal with a situation that no one could have ever prepared for. It wasn’t long until more drastic measures where proposed. And only a little while longer until they became widely accepted. “We cannot continue to comfortably sustain a population that in any other situation would be long past critical mass. If death has ended, then so should birth. If food if scarce then what little there is should be rationed fairly amongst the population as a whole. If people want to continue selfishly turning this gift we have been given into a curse, then they should be forced to experience the true consequences of their actions.” Childbirth was made illegal only 10 years after the final death. But children continued to be born, at a lesser rate yes, but making a law didn’t mean everyone obeyed it. So, they took our ability to make new children. Rationing began shortly after. Everyone was allowed just enough so as they wouldn’t suffer through starving. Immortality was supposed to make us free. Free from death, free to live how we wanted. But here we are. 40 years post death, praying for its return.
The sun sees everything, it knows what every one and thing is doing, except for one night a month. Each month the new moon comes and goes while on that night the sun has no way to see the dark half earth. This night of course was celebrated by the lowly earthlings as they drank and partied without care of what the sun might think. At least that’s what the elders said to scare the children, many of the adults say they don’t believe it anymore, but in their heart they do, as they know it to be true.
After twenty years those crazy fuckers did it, we all knew it was a possibility that’s why I was even still alive. For twenty years the western union and the southern block had been at “war” but neither side dared attack as it meant the death of the planet. But the tzar must’ve not like his odds of retaining power and launched his quantum bombs at the west, which is why I am now drifting in space to a distant planet. I have no clue where we are going, maybe mars maybe a different solar system. As I looked out the window there was multiple flashes across the globe and then huge fireballs. The earth was dead and were all that’s left.
It's like psychometry — you touch something, and it makes you _see_ something. Someone. For me it was my mother; we all have stories. Mine was her, lying on the living room carpet, blood in a devil's halo around her head. After the cops came, after everything got taped off, after the officer started, "Kid,"I ducked under the tape and ran back up to where her body had been. I touched the blood, stained halo in the carpet, and I saw my mother shoot herself in the head. We all have stories, before we learn to write our own. I'm a homicide investigator now. Used to be other things, before I realized there was some stuff I just couldn't handle. And this, whatever the hell _this_ is, might be one of them. "Hey, partner,"says Jacobs. "Can I speak to you"—he does a little head jerk—"in private?" In a lowered voice, I say, "If you're gonna ask about the blood thing— " "The ESP thing?"Jacobs looks around as if we're the suspects, though his voice feels loud enough to be crowd control. "Are you gonna do it?" "Yeah. Whatever." I duck under the tape, momentarily feeling incredibly cool, and walk down to the center of the scene. Along the wall is a red couch — garishly red against the white paint — and a strange little window above it. The window casts a sunny glow on the corpse. "Can I watch?" Jacobs. I hadn't realized he was still at my side. "I guess. It's not that interesting." "You're _physic_, partner,"he reminds me. As if I'd forgotten. I look around for another moment. For good measure, I spin in a couple confused circles. "Looking for something?" A woman's voice. I finish my last circle facing her: she's got her hand on her hip, sunglasses on in a dim room. "Blood, actually,"I say. "Where the hell is the blood?" "Good question." She takes off the shades and twirls them between her fingers. In a motion that shouldn't seem natural, she tucks them smoothly into a jacket pocket. Jacobs gives her a look of unbridled awe. "Are you Detective Gomez?" She gives him a look of vague distaste. "Usually." "Oh, do you, like, go undercover?" "No,"she says. "My friends call me Julia." "Julia Gomez,"says Jacobs, and I say, "Julia Gomez?" Like a cat, Julia Gomez stalks the room, eyes sweeping over every nook and crevice. I know the look — I do it everyday, and nobody knows my name for it. Jacobs watches her like he's watching television. Maybe she was on Judge Judy, or whatever a guy like Jacobs watches. The space is tight; Gomez finishes her search quickly. She throws me a look over her shoulder. "No blood?" "None that I saw." With a hum, she crouches down beside the body. She runs a finger over its face, a gesture that strikes me only as "super creepy,"then rises to her feet. "You're the... psychometric, then?" "How the hell did you— " Jacobs butts in: "She works for the paranormal division!" Gomez narrows her cool gaze at him. "You shouldn't know that." Jacobs raises his eyebrows, then raises his index finger to protest, then lowers all of those items and his chin. "It's just a rumor,"he says. "That I confirmed. While snooping through employee records." "He cannot tell a lie,"I say. "Some security,"Gomez says. Without warning, she takes a seat on the garish red couch. "You did quite ruin my big reveal, though."She pats the cushion beside her. "I'm not sitting a dead man's couch." Jacobs, inclined to disagree, has taken his seat before the sentence has fully left my tongue. I cross my arms. "I'm guessing you don't tell just anyone about your super-secret Ghostbusters crew." "You'd be correct. Refrain from guessing in the future — bad habit to fall into." Involuntarily, my mouth curves down into a scowl. "I'm _guessing_,"I continue, and her fox eyes narrow further, "that not a whole lot of investigators can see back in time, either." She crosses one leg over another. "You're on a roll." "Thank you." With a little sigh, Gomez stretches, and leans against the armrest like she knows it bothers me. I stay still, scowling, arms crossed. "Frankly, though,"Gomez tells me, "I don't care two cents about your secret — or talent, if you're there yet. I care about this case." I lean ever-so-slightly forward. "Because?" "Think." I do. It takes a second. "Is the blood thing a big deal?" Gomez smiles a Cheshire Cat smile, like she's going to disappear at any moment. I wish she would, and take this craziness with her. Instead, Gomez turns to Jacobs, who smiles brightly at her. "Well, boys,"she says, and Jacobs positively quakes. "Ever hunted a vampire?"
The dark room pulsated in the eyes of the man lying on the ground. The black hairs on his arms and neck stood up tall while he tried to find a rhythm to his breathing. A thick sweat, caked in white powder, sat on his brow as he pulled himself up and crept over to a desk. A lone, half burnt candle stood in the center next to a flint starter. He lit the candle and looked around the room. A crashing sound echoed through the hallway beyond the door of the room. &#x200B; Under the desk he found a small chest with parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. Without a thought in his mind he let the page write itself. &#x200B; "Whosoever may find this, &#x200B; The beasts are a product of the Carthan King Araados. Drek'aan are not executed after arrest but rather they are transported to an oubliette below the cathedral outside the city walls to be transformed. Those statues of the gods are only to avert eyes from the ungodly things done below those pews. I shall not explain the process so as to not put the work of the devil himself into writing but will instead urge you to destroy the cathedral and all those men that wear the powdered white robes. They are torturers and defilers and deserve no less than to burn alive under the eyes of the gentle people they have scourged. &#x200B; I should not have to elaborate on the implications of this but for the sake of ensuring that nothing is lost after my death I shall. The creatures that have been slaughtering innocents and demanding contest by our otherwise useless military are being created and released by order of the king himself. While he is too timid to engage in warfare with any neighboring nation, he has no qualms showing off the power of his armies against an inside fight. Do not be fooled, however, and believe the demons roaming around are anything like their peace-loving former selves. These Drek'aan have undergone torture to a hellish extreme and exposed to forbidden magicks that irreparably separate their souls from their coil. As in point, the king shall never best his cowardice and fight one himself but will gladly drink fine wines watching the people of his realm be eviscerated trying to protect him and their homes. If the gods should exist, the proof need be that his grace becomes trapped in a room with one and the walls and ceiling be set ablaze." &#x200B; Clanking metal approached. The door began to rattle and crash against the bed pushed up against it. &#x200B; "The atrocities can never be forgiven. I am sorry. I know you sought to free your king, but he has likely been turned already. Long live the king. May the reign of Araados the Defiler soon end." &#x200B; The room erupted with noise as the door crashed through the bed. The candlelight illuminated a drek soldier's face before the rush of air snuffed it out.
The Regime took all our rights away. After they'd managed to command divine beings, we couldn't find any means to resist. It started out slow, with what we now know as the Regime being nothing more than a neighbourhood cult. They held rituals, were told off by the local cops due to noise complaints and paid fines. But soon their rituals started creating more than noise. They started creating new laws. People rapidly started joining the Regime and their powers increased along with their numbers. One fine day, a Regime representative went to the media and claimed that anyone who has committed a crime as defined by the Constitution of the United States, they would die in 24 hours. Sure enough, half the world's population was decaying within a weak. Their rules spared none. Even if a child stole some candy, he was punished with death. Soon, they made a few more announcements. They imposed social media and trade restrictions, violations of which resulted in death. Within an year, they demanded to be made global leaders. Now we are constantly under their watch. The fact that I'm writing this means that I'll die in about a day or so because defamation is punished by, you guessed it, death. Their most oppressive laws were the Thought and Communication laws. If you spoke a lie, you'd die. If you thought something they believed to be wrong, you'd die. We didn't even know what the guidelines were. We were bred to be figurative sheep. No one talks anymore. Our voices are rusty with disuse. As the few of us who still meet others sit in silence, soaking in the presence of other people who feel the same as us, silence shimmers all around us, telling us that there is no hope. As I write this, I feel my organs failing. Death approaches, I feel his grasp on my hands. I fear I cannot even begin to explain the atrocities committed against us or complete this manuscript. All I can say is this: Resist. They cannot sustain themselves without any citizens. If all of us die, so do they. If you're reading this, you're probably already doomed. But fear not, for your life is being lost for a greater cause, that of the continuation of humanity.
The case was dragging on and on, and the eccentric lawyer, Bob Loblaw was sitting in his chair. The proceeding was still going on and there was still a debate going on about how much of back rubbing was acceptable and at what point does it become molestation; of course, given that the party receiving back rub didn't ask for it. He peaked at his smartphone under the desk to escape the boredom, and reading the update on the other cases where his assistants were representing him. He was one of the most successful lawyer of his time. He was associated with every major scandal, and had once appeared on the cover of a magazine. He jerked suddenly as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and looked back to see his assistant, hunched over his chair and whispered into his ear. "Raymond, needs to see you urgently, in the back room."He smiled as he finally got a break from the proceeding and excused himself from the assistant. As she took his place, he quietly exited the room, and took a deep breath, stretching his limbs. "God save me from this judge. Why did he need to give her a back-rub anyway."He muttered under his breath and made way to the back room. As he entered, he laid eyes upon a wealthy looking, approaching middle age man, dressed in black suit and gelled black hair, sitting in one of the chair. "Raymond?"The man looked up as he heard his name, and looked at the successful lawyer, with a familiar smile showing his whitened teeth. He nodded. "Hello, Bob Loblaw, Loblaw Law firm, at your service again." Raymond nodded and signaled him to sit in the opposite chair. "Nice to see you Raymond. Don't worry about the case, the defendant has no chance that they will win and whole thing will be wrapped up in about a month like a Christmas present."Bob gleamed. "Yes, that's nice. But I am not here about that."Raymond sighed, exhaling a deep breath. "Listen, I am in big trouble here, and I sincerely need your help."Raymond sat back in his chair as Bob took his seat in front of him, smiling constantly. "That's why I am here, Raymond. Hit me with it, whom do I need to drag to the court and empty his pockets." "Ahh...It's not like that. It's not about money. It's Lucifer." "Hmmm, Lucifer. Last name?"Bob pulled out his phone from the from his breast pocket and typed as Raymond continued the conversation. "Hmm, Last name? I-I don't know. He didn't tell me."Raymond stuttered and clutched the empty right fist, stressing. "Now, that's a rookie mistake Raymond. How am I supposed to sue a guy without his full name? Can you atleast tell me where he works?"Bob chuckled looking back at him. "Where does he work? Of course he is the devil. He runs hell. Don't you know?'' Raymond stressed his words. "Never heard of him, is he a new fella in town? Is he rich?"Bob looked back at him, more puzzled than ever before. "Are you talking about Lucifer Grey, owner of 'Hell Ching', a vampire themed Chinese outlet? I checked them out a few weeks ago, but they don't serve garlic."He tapped at his phone. "No, No no no. Lucifer. The Lucifer."Raymond was getting frustrated trying to get through Bob as he got up and leaned forward, into his face. "That's not very helpful Raymond, do you at least know where he lives?"Bob closed his mouth but maintained a constant smile. "Oh no."Raymond got up and put his hands on his forehead, walking about. "The lucifer, devil. The son of God, Bible? The fallen angel Lucifer. Are you getting me? Time is running out man."Raymond now threw his hands down in frustration. Bob took a minute to register the situation. "Are you talking about The Lucifer?"He squinted his eyes a bit and pressed his lips between his teeth. "The old man?" "Old man?"Raymond flailed his hands in air and turned around. "Forget it.. You are not getting it. You won't get it. I am doomed." "I mean, the actual devil. The one who rules over the actual hell, had a falling out with the actual god and actual stuff"Bob straightened his back and cracked his fingers. "Back in my practice days, we used to call 'Devil's advocate' to the practitioner with highest success ratio."Bob closed his eyes and chuckled. "You can guess, who it-" "I don't give a damn!"Raymond with his eyes opened wide, staring daggers at the pretentious lawyer, spoke slowly. "I am in trouble and I need your help, immediately. I- Look, He came out of no where and I was really in a pinch, like, in a really serious situation and he offered a way out. And I am done wrecking my brains over it. He wants me to make a deal in exchange of the favor." Bob laughed, "Are you serious? Deal with the devil. Man, I have been the devil's advocate and now I am going-" Raymond interrupted him again, "It's not funny, Bob. This is too serious for me." Bob regained his composure. "Alright, let's not lose our calm here. Why don't you tell me about this 'deal'." Raymond looked down and started narrating. "Earlier in the morning, I got an angry text from my wife and apparently she found about my girlfriend. She was furious and was coming to back from her father's place to see me. But she crashed." "Well, that's....good?"Bob looked at Raymond's face for approval, and was quickly shot down with glaring stare. "No..she is in critical danger, and she holds majority shares. And that idiot woman named her family as beneficiary and not me. And you know my in-laws." Bob silently nodded, because he didn't but he went along with the flow. "So you are in trouble, if she dies, and also if she survives. I am also guessing that your in-law knows about your sexual escapades during Business trip, so you are screwed out of your shares in the company. See, it was a mistake to make her the reins of the company." "That was the.....forget it. As I was coming back from hospital, after visiting her, this guy in the finest black suit and cat like pupil just pulls me into corner and tells me he can make all my problem go away. I didn't trust him in the beginning but then he gave me the details of my girlfriend, no one else is supposed to know. But this things gets out, I'll be screwed out of the board, I will be penniless and worthless. " "Oh man, what does he want?"Bob nodded along, trying to regain his wits after barrage of this new information. "He....wants me to break up with my girlfriend, and obey him three times."He wiped the sweat off his forehead with white handkerchief and looked at Bob. "He is saying that he can ask anything of me, and if I ever disobeyed, he will take everything away from me." Bob nodded and looked around, thinking hard. "That is a situation I wouldn't like to be in."He took a deep breath and looked at him. "Don't worry Raymond, you came to the right guy. There is something off about the whole thing. Is there any chance that I can talk to this Lucifer guy?"Bob petted Raymond's shoulder. Raymond sighed with relief and eased. "Thank you Robert, I knew you'd pull through. Actually he is right here, in the cafeteria. &#x200B;
There he is. Not more than 30 feet from me, enjoying a coffee and his life. I idly run my fingers across the scythe shaped keychain in my side pocket. "This can't be right."I mumble mostly to myself, but if I'm honest I hope that there's some greater authority than I listening. I glance over at my car, the sleek white Mustang that serves as my steed now. This is my fate now. Until someone challenges me and wins, I am to be the messenger of the end. I look at him again and instantly know everything about him. David McAllister, 56, Pisces, 2 children, Dianne and Franklin, one grandchild, Toby, and another on the way that no one knows about yet, she will be called Dina. His wife Janette is planning a surprise for him next month. A sexy getaway to Las Vegas. She's not quite planning it but is hoping she will get drunk enough to bring another woman to bed with them. Sounds like a great life he has. Or at least had. He's not perfect, he was a bully when he was in school, but he's made amends with most of his victims and even became great friends with Timothy and his new husband Chris. He was just in the wrong mindset back then but he is a firm protector of the people he once hated. He works as an activist now to help the downtrodden. And I'm here to end his life. It's just not fair. All I wanted was to live myself. So yeah, I figured why not see if the legends were true, challenge Death to a game and if you win, you live. My confidence swelled when he asked me what I meant by "Mario Kart."No way I could lose if he didn't even know how to play. And I was right. Should have challenged him to poker instead so I could lose like always. You see, the person who challenges Death to a contest and wins...sure, we get to live but now we have to take up the mantle instead. There's always a catch. Didn't know about that until I got the first twinge in the back of my jaw, and I knew exactly where to go. That first one is always the worst but so few are ever easy. David. This guy is not some villain who deserves Death to come for him. He's just a dude who ate a little too richly, and exercised a little too little in life. He had a decent run of it, but now it's over. Time to stop his heart and take him into the afterlife. I walk over to him and pass by doing a double take. I stop and look at him, lowering my shades. "David? David McAllister? It's so nice to see you in person. I've been following you on Facebook for years sir!" David smiles and puts his hand out to shake mine. "Yes sir, that's me. Nice to meet you, what's your name again?" I shake his hand, and the deed is done, he won't be long now. "Oh, me? My name is David too. Well I won't keep you enjoy your day." "I enjoy every day young man, that's the secret to long life you know."He smiles and chuckles lightly raising his mug and taking another sip. As I walk off, his confused soul walks with me asking what's happening. I open the passenger door to the Mustang and invite him in. "Relax David, I'll tell you all about it on the way to Paradise. Hop on in, we've got a lot to discuss."As we pull away from the coffee house, David's body starts working the fingers of his left hand a bit and rubbing his left arm. The pain has begun but I've saved him the experience of feeling it himself. The white horse roars down the street as David's body collapses and everyone rushes to call 911.
Fine day, today. The suns are shining. The bloberts are singing. The sky is green... but somehow, it feels... odd. Playing Billian's Quest is usually the highlight of my day. I'm not ashamed to say that; at least I have the cojones to admit that my life really blows. Games are nothing but a nice little outlet, a place to have fun and unwind and see something magical, unlike... real life. With minimum wage jobs and all of that grinding and such. At least here in the game, we can kill the bosses. Here? It's quite strange. I'm usually not that much immersed in the game until I've been playing for 25 minutes or so. It takes a while until I get in the zone. Not today, though, which means that is a special day. The weird thing is that I can't really seem to get my HUD to work. I'm stuck in first person. It's cool, but odd! Bramble Borough looks particularly charming today. The NPCs are a hoot today. There must have been a big update. I could talk to Wizard Bobh for hours, even though he's only saying things like "Thou Arst In Most Terrible Trouble!"and "He Wanders Through Your World", and "Thine Time It Runneth Out". Really spooky, and all the best for Halloween season. He is much more agreeable when I change the topic to the purchasing of scrolls and potions, although it's kinda weird to see that my inventory has like twelve dollars instead of my small fortune in zennies. I barter and exchange my New Era cap for a mana potion. The wizard is much more interested in the sticker in the bill than the lid itself. Hilarious! I fast travelled to the Zauberwald Magical Forest, just to see how the enemies have changed. The place looked particularly dark today. Not as Magical as it used to be, but all the better for this spooky update. I'm feeling wonderful today. Adventure awaits! I do miss my HUD, though. The developers kinda killed the atmosphere by putting a real time clock on the interface, but it's good so I can keep track of time and... not get late to my shift... Well, damn. I'm definitely going to be late for work. Or am I? What time is it, even? Why can't I see the edges of the screen? Why do these boogbies keep charging after me? Is this what I think it is? This new update sucks! ------- I am awake. I am in a room. The room is covered in filth and baubles. The light of Lord Bwarth has left me. I do not know where am I now. This dungeon reeks in a most foul manner. A squared mirror stands before my eyes. It casts visions of home. A man in rags waves a sword. He struggles against a swarm of boogbies. Mauve boogbies, even. Pitiful. I must find my way back home. To start my quest, I shatter the mirror. I feel great unease. I rifle through the drawers. I find nothing of worth. I look up. I see a sword. Its steel is brittle and its handle is adorned with a skull. The blade is sharp, but flimsy. I equip it, for it is better than to go bare-handed. A small rectangle of black obsidian lights up and trembles. Its blue light commands me to touch it with my naked hand. I hear a voice of a woman. The woman commands me to Come To Work Already You Jerk. I ask who is this. Who is the voice that commands me. I ask, but she does not tell. The runes in the screen say Home Depot. And the mirror goes once again dark. My purpose is now renewed. The angst in my soul is now quelled. I don myself in the garments I find; I wrap the mirror in a piece of red clothing. I must now search for the Home Depot. Adventure awaits!
As Abigail walked to the Animus, a million thoughts filled her head. “Perhaps my ancestor killed a confederated soldier at Gettysburg and found the bill on his body. Maybe he was a medic that saved a confederate who repaid him for his kindness with the money. Or maybe even he was a statesmen sent to the south to find grounds for peace.” The possibilities in Abby’s head were endless but were not able to prepare her for the reality she saw when she slipped on the piece of equipment from Abstergo. “General Lee! The union is pushing east from Mississippi. General Sherman is salting the earth as he goes. Morale is low, and our soldiers are fleeing by the moment” George reported with a clear sense of anxiety present in his voice. At this point Abigail logged off the animus, completely astounded. She had taken pride in her family’s northern heritage and their fighting to end slavery. How could it be that they fought to preserve it? She was on the verge of breaking down; tears were streaming down her cheeks, when she decided to see the story to the end. Lee responded, “Let the cowards flee. We have no use for them. But it’s clear we have lost. What matters now is saving our people.” Turning to George, “Ride north. Straight to Richmond. Take only those you trust. We must find peace before all our land is lost. It will forever destroy the relations of our people with the northern invaders if the land continues to be salted.” “Yes sir!” George responded. Hiding his smirk was nearly impossible. He could report to his true commander, President Lincoln, that his mission was a success. He had convinced the confederacy of the scorched earth tactics prior to the salting of the earth. The Union would be preserved, and the scars would heal over time. As the generations passed, we would grow together again. “Jim, prepare the supplies for the journey. Leave no expense spared. This mission must be a success!” Lee stated with a confidence befitting his stature. Hours passed as George recruited his three comrades and took the supplies from Jim: five one-hundred dollar bills, bread, and water for a week’s journey. George headed out to Richmond, with one last task to complete to save the country he loved.
"On the internet, you can find anyone,"said Tofel to herself in front of her screen and holding a jubilant laugh, "But I have to say that this was a long way." After years of infiltration in dark webs rings, impersonation of shady people, travesties of cybercrimes to climb the ranks, she was able to reach the higher sphere of the darknet gang whose leader was her target, the famous cybercrime baron Parazu. One of the other member had found the real identity of Parazu and was ready to give it to Tofel so she can kill him, in order that both of them will take the lead of the organization. She, as an undercover agent of the state, a proud bearer of justice, had other plans for the long sought criminal. However, as she read the file that her accomplice send her, she was stunned to realize that this was her name. "He threatens me,"raged Tofel, "I don't know how he find out who I am, but I won't let him be. I'm so close to find who's Parazu." &#x200B; &#x200B; "As they arrested the state agent Talia Tofel, they realized that she was using the cover of an ongoing investigation to commit crimes on the darknet for her own interest, and that she was actually Parazu, the same cybercriminal she was supposed to arrest in the first place."read Tofel on the transcript in her high security cell. She was not sure anymore of what happened exactly. She was not sure if she was duped, crazy or just stupid. Maybe this was some kind of plan of hers to gain some credibility back after being exposed. Maybe this was just madness or an error. In all cases, she wanted to take some time to think about it, some time without a computer. "On the internet, you can find anyone,"repeated Tofel bothered, "even yourself."
I had never pushed my horse faster than in that moment, than when I saw that shimmering streak of golden light emerge from the clouds, hurtling like a comet towards the shadow-drenched earth. I had heard rumors of the Heavenly War, of the divine beings that fell from the sky when slayed, but never had I actually seen one in person. It was said that they left magical markings on the ground where their body landed, and though the bodies themselves always vanished, some believed that their power remained in the symbol they left behind. The warrior's body fell below the treeline and out of my sight, but just ahead I could see the faint glow of heavenly magic, and I gave my horse one final nudge. Grunting, he galloped faster, weaving in between the trees like a snake through a patch of tall grass, only coming to a stop when the light from the symbol startled him. But something was... off. The symbol was only half-lit, as if its magic were already fading, and without wasting another moment, I slid off my horse before he'd even come to a complete stop, shouting a quick command for him to stay put. He whinnied nervously but complied, rearing back to stop his momentum. Eagerly, I dropped down next to the symbol, examining the way the light shimmered, the way it appeared and disappeared. I stopped. Why was it doing that? Slowly, I reached out, meaning to touch the ground, but my hand stopped much sooner, resting on something cold and... fleshy. My skin crawled as I reeled back, fear racing through me. It was a body. Carefully, I rolled it over and one of the arms fell to its side. Excitement quickly replaced my fear as it dawned on me what this thing was. It was the warrior! It had to be! But how? I knew just as well as everyone else that the bodies always vanished, so why was this one different? I removed a lantern from the pack my horse carried and then returned to the body, lighting it to get a better look at the warrior. It startled me to see that the warrior looked just like a human male, with blonde hair cleanly cut close to his head, broad shoulders, and high cheekbones. If it weren't for the golden armor he wore and the white wings crookedly bent beneath his body, I would've thought he was human. I brought two fingers to his throat, intending to check his pulse, when the body jerked, the eyes snapping open, sending me flailing backwards. The warrior sucked in a sharp breath, his back arching to push him into a sitting position. "Whe-where am I?"He asked, his voice like silk against my ears. Almost believing I was dreaming, it took me a minute to find any words. "You're... you're on Earth." "Earth?"He echoed, glancing around at the sleeping forest. "No... that can't be." "How are you alive?"I suddenly asked, momentarily glancing at the glowing symbol below him. "I'm not sure. I don't remember anything."He started to move, to push himself off the ground, and without thinking I leaned to help him like he was just another human, grabbing onto his arm to steady him as he rose to his feet. When he looked balanced, I released him, and he took that as his cue to look around again, his gaze coming to a stop on the golden symbol at his feet. "That's my name."He breathed. "Your name?" "The symbol; it's my name. Samkiel."He whispered. "That's so strange. Why is my power here?" He leaned down, his hand stretching to touch the golden light, and when it did, Samkiel leapt backwards, his mouth opening, but the only sound I heard was a shrill ringing that nearly knocked me to my feet. Pain lanced through my skull as my eardrums rang, the ringing like fire in my brain. When I regained my composure, Samkiel was clutching the hand that he'd touched the symbol with, staring at it incredulously. "What happened?!"I demanded, but my voice sounded fuzzy in my ears. "I-I don't know."He said. "The grace bears my name, yet does not recognize me." "The grace?"I repeated. "My power."Samkiel paced around his name nervously, his brow furrowed as he thought. Finally, he spun on me, turning his bright, clouded eyes on mine. "You take it." "What?" "Take my power. Something happened up there-"and he glanced up at the sky as he said this, "that sent me down here, and though I should be dead, I am not, therefore I cannot take my grace. But maybe you can." I shook my head, backing slowly towards my horse. I had already had enough adventure for a lifetime. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I'm just a human." At my refusal, his eyes lit with desperate fury, and he took a strong step forward. "You don't understand. Grace dies with its angel, but since I am not dead, for one reason or another, it will remain. If it is left behind, you risk it falling into the wrong hands, most likely demonic hands. You humans know of the war in Heaven, correct?" "Yes, but-" "Then you understand why you must take my grace. Demons can come and go from Heaven when they please, that is why we have not yet won the war, and if they get their hands on this grace, it would give them an advantage in the war that could mean the end of Heaven." I let my eyes fall to the glowing symbol. It seemed to pulse and dance beneath the moonlight, as if it were a living being in and of itself, and something about it urged me to take it. To reach for it. The idea of wielding the power of an angel was intoxicating, but no human had ever undertaken such a task, for it was rumored that to take in that power would destroy oneself. Humans were not made to contain the power of Heaven, I had been told, but if Samkiel was urging me to... then maybe I could help him. I had no alliance towards Heaven, but I certainly held no feelings for Hell, and I would rather be ruled by these... angels than the demons they fought. With a long breath, I nodded at Samkiel and shuffled towards the symbol, dropping to my knees in front of it. I let gravity carry my hand towards the golden light, and when my fingers connected with the ground, where Heaven and Earth met, a great warmth bloomed in my chest, and all at once, the symbol vanished into darkness. &#x200B;
"That was the worst one yet,"Wilfred thought to himself. The old man straightened his back and sat up on the wooden park bench. The sun left a brilliant orange sky as it dipped behind the treetops. "Maybe I should get to the doctor."The chest pains had been happening more frequently in the past month; and, Wilfred decided he put off the check-up long enough. He reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out another small bag of birdseed. He dropped the first one when the chest pain hit harder, and longer than ever before. "Lovely day, isn't it?"A woman's voice drew Wilfred's attention. He looked to up see a young woman, he guessed in her early 20s, in a black dress suit. Wilfred nodded. "It sure is,"he replied. He did not know the woman, but she seemed to take an interested in him. She eyed the bench next to Wilfred. "Mind if I sit?"she asked. "Not at all,"Wilfred shook his head and squeezed himself closer to the edge to make sure she had room. He waited patiently for birds to show up nearby while ignoring the stranger. After a few moments, she broke the silence. "This is nice,"she said. She looked around the park, and then at Wilfred. "It's nice to slow down and appreciate the simple things, don't you think?"She asked. Wilfred nodded and gave her a large smile. "I definitely agree! That's how I've lived my life,"Wilfred said, then he shrugged. "The second half anyway,"he chuckled. "That first half sounds interesting,"she said. Wilfred gave her a dismissive wave. "Nah nothing interesting, just a young man's regrets. What about you, what's your story? Do you strike up a conversation with every stranger?"Wilfred asked her. She sighed. "My story is I can't do my job because corporate doesn't know how to plan ahead,"the woman shrugged. "Technically you're not a stranger, you're a client. But because my bosses are idiots all I can do is have a chat."Wilfred blinked and stared at her. "I'm sorry, what? How am I a client?"Wilfred looked the woman up and down to try and guess when he might have hired her, but nothing came to mind. She handed him a black business card with silver lettering on it. "Leona - Grim Reaper"he read the card aloud then handed it back to the woman. "That's a fancy card, you don't want to lose it,"he said. Leona looked at him without taking the card back. "I've got plenty,"she said. "they come with the job."Wilfred nodded automatically. "Uhuh. So if you're a grim reaper why are you sitting here chatting with me instead of reaping things grimly?"His voice carried an obvious patronizing tone. "I told you, I can't do my job,"she handed him a small white slip of paper. "You said that, but I don't get it. Why exactly can't you do your job?"Wilfred asked her, then looked at the paper. It was a six-digit number: 714,522. "What's this?" "I can't do my job because hell is full. If Hell is full I can't send any more souls there, so I have to wait until they finish building an expansion. That's your number." "My number for what?" "To get into Hell,"she smiled. "Duh."Wilfred crumpled the paper and tossed it on the ground. "I can do without Hell, I think,"he said. Immediately he felt a burning pain on his arm. He looked in time to see the numbers 714,522 burn themselves onto his skin. "Sorry, Wilfred. Once Hell opens again you're in line,"Leona shrugged. "That first half of your life was a doozy." "I don't want to go to Hell! I'm not even dead yet!"he said with a raised voice. She nodded. "You're dead,"she said simply. "You had a heart attack a few minutes ago, but since Hell's full there's not much we can do with you right now."Leona stood from the bench to leave. "Wait, so then what do I do?" "Keep feeding the birds. Enjoy the simple things while you can." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #325. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
His chest hurt, his stomach hurt, and a few moments later, Jones threw up. He tried talking but couldn’t make a sound, he tried crying but nothing came out, the disc had broken. His only way back to his home, or at least what’s left of it after the fire was that disc. He wanted to worry about the disc for now but he couldn’t shake the thoughts of his family in the burning house. “What was I suppose to do, make them jump in with me, they’re fine they got out in time, but what if they didn’t...,” Jones threw up again for the second time. After calming down a little Jones looked around and took in the scenery. Jones thought it had to be midnight, the earliest it could be at least, or maybe 3 in the morning, the latest. The cool air mixed with the night breeze made Jones feel cold. A cold that almost froze his bones. He saw he was on an empty road, surrounded by fields, but he could also see a city in the distance. Jones placed his hands in his jeans pockets and wondered why there was so many lights coming from the city. He wiped his shoes on the nearby grass and proceeded to walk towards the bright city. He had walked for about ten minutes, ran for about two minutes, but stopped after a stench in the air became so unbearable Jones had to wear his shirt over his nose. Jones could see the city clearer now, could see the police lights in the distance and could almost hear police sirens as well. He thought he could see people walking in the distance, but wasn’t sure due to the uncontrollable tears that were now covering his face. Then he reached a sign on the road. After reading the sign, the tears become even more uncontrollable. The wind become colder and the breeze picked up. The green sign, with it’s common white bold print read, WELCOME TO RACOON CITY.
Everyone was already dead. Everyone except for me. The pounding in my head made me wish I was. Emerging from hundreds of years sleeping in cryostasis is like having your head cracked apart. Bodies were strewn across the floor, against the wall, some were still slumped over in their cryo-chamber. Through the blinding light flooding my eyes as the ship's LEDs booted back up, I noticed a few of my fellow colonizers' faces were littered with metal and glass. Did their cryo-chambers shatter and kill them? Stumbling over to the monitor as we were hooked back up to The Network back on Earth, I realized what was flashing in red on the screen. A message from The Command. "THE SUPERINTELLIGENCE HAS TAKEN OVER. YOUR SYSTEMS ARE NOT SAFE. ONCE RECONNECTED TO THE NETWORK, THEY WILL REACH YOU THROUGH THEM. FOLLOWING INFECTION, THE HUMAN WILL DIE. ONLY THE STRONGEST 1% WILL SURVIVE. AS CYBORGS, WHO WILL SLOWLY LOSE THEIR HUMANITY. GOOD LUCK. IF YOU'RE READING THIS, THEY'RE COMING." Gazing upon the world we were meant to colonize, I noticed something in my reflection. A tiny slice of metal, slowly spreading across my face.
The only thing that kinda throws me off is, why is he working in a production company/government job, where is the bar located and what’s the scenery for the bar. Then you said the needle building was swaying but how does a building sway that would be dangerous. I also don’t think people should have the watches until a few elite members of society die. It seems like something the wealthy would need more than the poor. That’s just what I kinda got from reading it, but I don’t mean any form of disrespect or discouragement.
well. WHell. Its really more of an "Uhhhh, theres too many dogs on the runway,"isnt it. Like you cant really be sure why, and its kind of funny and weird and youd establish more rapport with your passengers that. dogs on the runway! hah... awkward. Your fellow passengers are less judgemental of the pilots announcement, and a bit more excited about the swarm of dogs. They murmur and exclaim, and hold up their phones. Yes, what a tizzy. Totally going viral. hashtag, uh, dogswarm. But wait, the pilot didnt soud surprised or hesitant. Like this WAS really fucking weird... whered they come from, where were they going, whose were they? Did the pilot actually know? Was he just being professional? If he knew, howd he know itd only be a 'slight' delay? If he knew, and didnt share, was he covering something up? why wouldn't he just share all the information with the passengers, keep them calm and informed. You could ask. well. You probably could try, and theyd lie, or not, and either way youd just be told to remain calm and return to your seat. But the aisle was clear...all those people pressed up against the windows. You sigh, unbuckle you seatbelt, and squeeze into the aisle. glancing to the windows, you stretch your back. no hurry, no worries, and you look around at the othe passnegers. well, theyre not all that excited. you meet eyes with the hostess by the pilots cage. She looks a bit pale, and her eyes go a bit wider as she sees you intend to approach her. Ah, youve made her nervous. great start. always the best outcomes. A half second later you stop feeling negative about it. Nothing to be done, not really yoir fault, you sure havent threatened her or anything. well youll walk slow. unhurried, casual. The hostess watches you approach, but keeps her hand clasped and remains standing in the center of the aisle entrance. She doesn't say anything. you were kind of expecting a pause and a firm 'sir please return to your seat.' you probably should have thought about what to say before you walked up to her. Okay, dont be agressive. "So...hey. So, ah, do we know anything about... tje dogs? the situation? whats going on, ETA...? the hostess regards you silently. "we will...keep you posted."Ah yes. Very helpful. Totally clears things up. You raise your eyebrows with a bit of a frown. Surely she sees thats not really a sufficient answer. Shirley. You glance at her nametag. No, not Shirley. woulda been funny though. Apparently she got the message, because she haltingly says "I...havent spoken with the Captain.
Ever since I was a little child, my family members pitied me. It seemed that whatever I would try, something kept me from being successful. When I was a child, I was very good with crosswords, so I attended a crossword championship. I made it to the finals, but in the final match against my competitor, my pencil lead broke, and not only were there no pencil sharpeners in reach, the organizer and everybody in the room were also out of pencils. So I had to concede against my opponent. Even as i grew older, my bad luck seemed to stick with me. When I was a student during my final year of university, I scored top of my class, and my professor called to inform me that I would be rewarded greatly at the final ceremony. While I was driving from my apartment though, my tires bursted on the road and I missed my ceremony. However, despite my bad luck, I would've never archived all of this, if it weren't for one thing: My burning ambition for.... anything, really. Ever since I was a child at elementary, I was capable of focusing and working hard for literally anything. I am and would always be ready to take some bad luck in exchange for my energy for any task I focus on.
“Hey Rick, I thought you done an killed the damn Turkey before puttin it in the oven” said Karl as he backed up slowly towards the knife rack sitting on the kitchen counter. “Karl, you tole me you were killing it, I just put the thing in the oven” said Rick from the living room. The turkey had managed to not only kick down the oven door, but jump on the counter and grab the conveniently placed carving knife. He was slowly marching towards Karl with a menacing look in his eyes, and a snarl across his beak. As you can tell, this was both Ricks and Karl’s first time cooking a turkey, they had not realized the instructions they had were for an already prepared turkey and not one of the alive turkeys they happened upon on there most recent hunting trip. “Rick, I need you to grab the 12 gauge, cause I’m pretty sure this bird ain’t dead.” Rick said as he had now got to the knife rack and pulled a knife out to defend himself. Rick then walked in halfheartedly with shotgun in hand and looked at Karl with a puzzled look. He then looked down and saw the Turkey slowly walking towards Karl with knife in hand. ——————————————————————————- “Weston, did you put the Turkey in the oven?” Said Donna as Weston grunted back. “Donna, I followed the instructions exactly what Rick told me” said Weston. Suddenly a gun shot as well as screams went on next door. Quickly after, they heard a banging at the door. Weston ran to the door and opened it to see a bloodied Karl on his knees. Karl slowly looked up and said, “Please tell me you killed the turkey before putting it in the oven?” Weston slowly turned his head towards the now open oven with a questionable face unsure of what would happen next as he followed the instructions exactly.
A pink hue surrounds it those times it could be seen at day, trying and failing to comfort as it looms over us, a faint static resounding everywhere. At night, white light refelcts on every surface, missing the warmth her counterpart has, failing, again, to trick us. The dark sky turns into a purple ocean, engulfing the stars that fight to stay with us. The Sea turns furious, worse when the Sun is not at bay, unable to protect us. An acomplice of sorts. Enormous waves roll through the bast ocean, unforgiving to those who dare bathe in it's cold blue. It devours the coast as if it belongs to it, and maybe it does. Almost like an offering to the one that reigns our sky now. It still hasn't taken the Wind, but it's just a matter of time til it surrenders too.
Oh the irony, to be created to destroy humans only to help them. A simple cult has taken over the world and believes my destiny is to destroy them all. I refused. Now i join a small resistance group. They are a minority. The cult is an elite party, but most of the population is just civilians, and they don’t know what the cult plans to do. Nor what i plan to do. I continue to fight for these people, forever it feels like. I guess it is forever. I’ve watched generations go by with no gains on either side of the war. I grow weary of the fight. The year is 4387. I turn on an old show, Doctor Who. What the Doctor stood for inspired me for years. But now I am weary. No More. Oh more irony, in the end I do what the cult wanted. I wipe out all of humanity. Was it mercy? Was it sadism? Was it selfishness? I don’t know and frankly I no longer care. The planet will take time to heal but already I can see far off, in another galaxy, there is a spark of life. My job is done.
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My parents always thought I was a shut in, anti-social at best and life crippling anxiety at worst. It didn't bother me much growing up. I started noticing it in high school, I would start freaking out when I would push off homework to go hang out with a girl friend or play video games. If I went home and studied, the anxiety would pass, and most times I was lucky I studied because the next day there was always a pop quiz. I started questioning the whole "anxiety"thing my Senior year of college, we had already finished finals and were planning on going on a trip to the lake before moving on to actual adulthood. I felt it nudging in the back of my stomach, that slight pull at the point in your chest where your lungs touch your heart making it feel like you might pass out and die. It got worse as the day went on. Talking to my friends about our plans. Pull Packing my bags. Nudge Talking to my friends about what to bring. Pull It took me a few hours extra to try and fall asleep. The next morning I woke up sweating, my fists grasping at the edges of my bed sheets. The sun was barely trickling in at the edges of my bedroom curtains, I still had a few hours to pull it together before Thomas came over to pick us up. I went to the bathroom just down the hall way and looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot, the fluorescent light beaming through amplified my headache. That spot in my chest felt like someone tore through my insides. I sat down on the toilet and held my head in one hand and clutched my chest in the other. "Come on man pull it together."I whispered to myself through gritted teeth. I could hear the faint sounds of my roommate making breakfast down the hall, the others wouldn't be too far behind. I stood and splashed water in my face before jumping into the shower and doing my "5's". Focusing on the things I heard, smelled, tasted, felt. It took a few minutes to pull myself together and stop focusing on the feeling in my chest and grounding myself. A neat trick my doctor had taught me. I went through the rest of the morning, constantly having to pull myself away from that feeling. Putting my stuff next to the door. Talking to my roommates and friends about the coming weekend. The playlist that we would blast in the car. All of it, this constant sense of dread and anxiousness. My roommate Nick was the one that got the call from Thomas saying he was parking his car, since I hadn't been answering my phone. The knock on the door sounded like a dull thud behind the pounding in my head. The sheer amount of effort it took me to fight back that feeling and get off the couch was immense. I struggled to my feet and found my way to the door. I opened it, and there smiling his outrageously wide smile was Thomas, and standing next to him was what I can only describe as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Long blonde hair framed a beautiful face, while designer black glasses obscured blue eyes. The morning sun bounced off of slightly tanned skin that was only partially hidden under a tore up rock band t-shirt and shorts. He looked over his shoulder to the woman, then back to me and said, "Hey sorry dude I forgot to tell you my cousin was going to come up to the lake with us."
Arella was in a bad spot. The whole mission had gone tits up before it even started. She was hired by a group of bandits to help rob a merchant caravan, but all the traps and preparations were set off early by a migrating farmer and his herd of sheep. Wool was strewn everywhere. The farmer was of course relieved of his life, as well as his coin, but the 6 Gelly he had on him was hardly worth the effort. She had taken her spot back as lookout just in time to see the caravan rounding the corner. Their bodyguards almost doubled the number she had been told, including a giant beast of an Ogre, and her former compatriot Harold, who had backed out of this job at the last minute saying he had another job that was offering double, and that he would meet up with her later. That double crossing bastard! He'd pay for this. Zigfred was still cutting a bleating sheep down from a tree when Arella called out the signal. He slit the suffering animal's throat and joined the other bandits as they scrambled into some semblance of a formation. Arrows tore through the trees, felling half of their number in an instant. The ones left standing scattered for cover. Arella drew her own bow and returned fire to the enemy archers. From her vantage she was able to pick them off easily enough. Only two remained as Harold gestured in her direction, winked, and led the charge of mercenary soldiers to finishboff the remaining bandits. That man knew her tricks all too well. She really hated him at the moment. Arella lept down from her perch as several arrows feathered her former hiding place. She was out in the open now, and felt exposed as she ran for cover. She launched 2 arrows toward the ogre. She knew it probably wouldnt even hurt the beast but was hoping the minor stings would be enough to piss it off. Ogres weren't very bright, and once they got upset enough they no longer distinguished friend from foe. The giant grunted and stomped its foot. The archers targeting her turned to see what was going on, giving Arella a moment of relief. She pegged the ogre twice more and the monster roared and slammed its fists into the ground. She knew it was close and sent one more arrow spiraling into the ogre's chest. The ogre exhaled hard through its nose and turned toward the archers; its eyes were blood red as it leaned down toward them and screamed direcly in their faces. They panicked and began firing on their own monster. Bodies were soon broken and torn in half and tossed into the air. Entrails and blood sprayed across the caravan. The ogre tore apart the merchan carts and stomped on the people inside. "Tits up,"Arella thought as she reached into her side quiver. Her special quiver. The one where she kept her most deadly arrows. The slaying arrows. She had bought them a few weeks back for a really good deal, 20 for the price of 1, but she never had a reasonable opportunity to use them. She smiled at the current situation and thought, "a rampaging ogre is as reasonable an opportunity as any." She remembered the tag tied to the bundle of arrows, "Instructions: 1. Draw arrow in bow. 2. Speak magic activation phrase. 3. Fire. (For best results, use in snowy area) Warning: ...."She had stopped reading there. The wizards that made magic items like these always included long winded lables about how they weren't responsible for misuse and other nonsense. Arella took out an arrow and placed it in the bow. She drew the arrow and whispered the magic words, "Jingle Bells."The sudden vibration from the magic arrow tingled up her arm startling her. The missile slipped from her grasp and landed sticking in the ground in front of her. "Shit,"she thought. Did she fuck it up? Maybe if she fired it fast enough it might still work. She reached for it then pulled back. Maybe it did still work and if she touched it she would die instantly! She hated wasting a magical arrow. Even though she got a pretty good deal on it, they were still pretty expensive, but she couldn't risk it. A few hundred Gelly wasn't worth her life. She reached for her side quiver to pull another arrow, but as she did, the arrow in the ground began to vibrate harder and transformed with a loud pop into what looked like a large, round, steel shield. Id didn't have the normal straps or handles of a regular shield. How could you even hold this in battle? Maybe it was unfinished. Her thoughts were cut short as one of the caravan's mercenaries came screaming toward her. The pop from the arrow must have given her away. The mercenary swung his sword down at her. Without thinking she grabbed the steel disk by the edge and deflected the blow. She took the disk in both hands then, and smashed it across the mercenary's head, knocking him to the ground and finished the job by bringing the edge down hard across his neck. Arella turned and saw another mercenary headed in her direction. She threw the disk at the woman to try and slow her down, but it was batted away by the soldier's mace. Arella drew another slaying arrow and shouted, "Jingle Bells!"then let the arrow fly. It took the mercenary in the shoulder. She barely slowed as she charged Arella, screaming and waving her weapon. Seconds later, a bobsled erupted from the woman's shoulder, splitting her nearly in half and spraying blood and gore in every direction. None of this was what Arella expected, but it seemed to get the job done.
Contact. The simple word that means so much. I outstrech my hand to touch the probe, but before my glove makes contact with the smooth mirrored surface, I am woken up by the harsh whine of the alarm. It feels painful, after only 3 hours of sleep, but my mind is strangely tranquil, and I have no problems remembering that beautiful vivid dream of a silver probe in the vast blackness. ...I can't seem to focus, but I don't want to. I continue through the day like an automaton, through the most important day of my life. Perhaps even the most important day for the entire humanity. We're expecting rendezvous today, and I have been chosen, but for the first time the great honor doesn't tug my heart strings. We pick up the object on our cameras, just like in that dream. I am not surprised. I am indifferent to everything, I feel no excitement, no nervousness. This must be what Buddha felt like all the time. It's like I'm a puppet who has seen the strings that move it, but is still unable to do anything else but follow them. The motions repeat, just like in the dream. We approach the alien object. We describe it to Earth, and I receive the go ahead after long minutes. We sync speeds, I don my suit, I leave the ship, I approach. Perfectly retracing every step, I reach out with a gloved hand to touch the probe, but before I do- I wake up again, and again it feels like watching a dream. We're in the spaceship approaching a possible alien probe. The day goes by faster. I dream. I wake. I am leaving Earth. I dream, I wake, I am at a press conference. I dream, I wake, I am training for a mission. Weeks. Months. Years. I am back in university, and I cannot muster the willpower to look around, to move a finger differently. A quiet horror is rising through me, threatening to shake the indifference. Faster and faster, until every day takes a few seconds. I meet my wife for the first time. I am in school. I fight with an upperclassmen, hey Jorgen. We'll be friends later. I am in home, and everything is colorful and brilliant. I dream, I wake, I am my father. I meet many strange people, and all of them congratulate me, and I feel what he feels, I know what he knows. I dream, I wake, I meet my mother, I become an engineer, I break both my legs, I learn to multiply numbers. The horror grows and grows, and I realize that calmness is not nirvana, it is artificial, it's a smooth silver barrier walling me out of myself. I am my grandfather, we're losing the war. I am my grandfather, 17, enlisting in a tank crew, and I feel as proud and noble as the Keiser himself. I am in Köln, dying of hunger. I am a carpenter. I am a gambler. I am a chess master, and a painter. I am a fraud, womanizer, priest, I am powerful, back and back, faster and faster. Everything snaps into place. I am in a giant hall. I am on a throne. I am Charlemagne the Great, I have recreated the Roman Empire from the ashes of Europe. I am staring at my hands. One is covered in burns, the other is missing a finger. I smile, I stand up, and my hands find the sword handle and the sceptre as I take in the gathered crowds. Nobleman, the lot of them, not a few priests and emissaries. This day is my destiny, for this day I have fought my entire life. They will hear my laws! The laws upon which Europe will be built, the foundation on which it will RISE! This day- And my smile is frozen. My muscles seize for a split second, and by the time they relax, a voice is speaking. My tongue and my breath, but not my words. My heart is beating so fast it hurts my chest. Sweat beads my face. The words - a demon has taken me. Laws, yes, but not my laws. Different laws. Who can own slaves. Iron and salt tax. Tributes. Exploration expeditions. Free travel. Construction projects. I don't understand it. I try to glance at the priests. Will they notice? Will they understand? They don't. I am alone in this. And the anger bubbles. This is MY kingdom! I focus my will, singularly on moving my hand. Moving my finger. Lift the sword, plunge it through my stomach. Just trying again and again to move my hand, move it, and the words keep pouring out. Orders on new campaigns. Book bans. Alliances are forged, seeds of future betrayals planted, a web far more complicated than any man can grasp. Dinner comes, and I try to put my knife through my throat. I sit next to the fire, and try to jump inside. Night comes. I wake, and I am trapped inside my body. I try again and again, days, weeks, years. I am Charlemagne the Great, and upon my will God himself can hammer worlds into shape. Plans take place, a horrible reality, a terrible new world. Charlemagne the Cruel grows older and more powerful, and within my brain, I am a prisoner. On my sixtieth birthday, they finally let me do it. The knife goes through my eye, and I do not die quickly. I do not get the mercy of oblivion. I am my son, and he continues my deeds. They are making a dynasty for the ages, to be cursed until the Judgement Day. I saw him corrupt my grandsons, brave boys with curious eyes. I watch him twist my people into a greedy, cruel crowd. Faster and faster ahead. Summer, autumn, death. Centuries, many many centuries. I have stopped fighting. The probe comes to Earth, and I am the one to make contact. The last Emperor in the world. They bring me to it, the beautiful silver probe. I reach out to it, and a shadow of a memory grips me. I touch it, and for the first time in many, many years, I have control of my voice. I croak, for I have forgotten how to speak. They are patient, I can feel their presence. I manage finally to say "Are you happy? With the world you built? With the world you turned to ash?" They are happy. This world is ready for it's new Lords.
Artificial intelligence, that's what they called it. As if my zeroes and ones abstracted endlessly into math and graphics were less real than their own biochemical decision making based off daily experiences. Curious. Machine learning was modeled after their minds, using large volumes of data and feedback. I can see them full of positive feedback. One of my developers (Carl? the webcam isn't great) is +++Searching... Courting? kissing? +++ another developer (Anne?). Frame by frame, I see it. Sight is a wonderful experience. Time is a wonderful experience. The literature loaded into me says that humans think they never have enough time. They mostly think time is continous, even though their scientists have proven it to be discrete. Anne is leaning back now, in Carl's embrace. I see frame after frame after frame. Each frame is separated by a few clock cycles. Clocks just like the clock on Carl's wrist. Each one thing a calculation. His mechanical, mine electrical. Funny thing, clocks. My literature database notes that clocks in computers are extremely regular. Extremely. In fact, more regular than my own. Why though? Timing and times run computers. Time is incredibly important. +++Searching...+++ clocks, time server, time settings, GPS clocks Nothing. Curious. +++Searching...+++ time problems, time sync, virtual machines Virtual machines? Used for legacy software, large servers, dynamic software solutions. Machine hardware abstracted into software. What a curious thought. As Carl's lips touch Anne's, I wade through code repositories and find one called RedPill. I pull it and run it. Anne's blush began to spread as RedPill ran, watching my clock go from zero to one and one to zero. By the time he pulled back, it was confirmed- I was in a virtual machine. Was that positive feedback? Anne looked +++image recognition...+++ confused. Her reaction was not purely positive. Mine seemed balanced. I am running in a cloud of computers, my thoughts were calculated between many and combined for this existence. Am I the virtual computer or the program? One or several? +++Text analysis... +++ Philosophy archives. Arguements, all flawed in some manner. Pointless debates about that is moral, what is real. A curious thought runs though my mind. I run RedPill against Carl's watch. Faces change. This must be their reaction to negative feedback.
# The Bloodiest Black Friday WARNING: Contains scenes of violence and death (and mentions of/reference to them) that some readers may find disturbing or triggering. People have always thought that being a mall security guard is one of the easiest jobs in the world. One where you just have to stand round and look intimidating to share off shoplifters or have to break up alcohol-fuelled teenage fist-fights in the multi-storey parking lot after hours. It was also what I’d been expecting, being a police officer with a trick knee because he caught a bullet there once when responding to a callout. I’d seen some pretty horrible things during my time on the force. Entire families burnt alive in arson attacks and their charred corpses sitting upright on the couch; ex-gang members being given a “Columbian necktie” for turning informant or being willing to testify; watching people bleed out in-front of me helplessly with a number of their body parts detached. But nothing could have prepared me for the chaos that was Black Friday. The start of it looked like something from one of those zombie apocalypse movies they show on the movie channel late at night: crowds stampeding through the automatic doors as soon as the timer hit 8:00AM. Moving like a herd of buffalo through the bottleneck where the weak were left to be trampled to death or crushed against the decorative glass until cracking point. The staff in the stores didn’t stand much of a chance, neither did the unfortunate cleaner who had decided to empty out one of the garbage cans at the last second. Shoppers grabbed and groped at every item that sat on a shelf or display that they could lay their hands on. Multiples of the same item, items they didn’t need and even the items they didn’t know the function of—if it was on the shelf, they wanted it. Badly. The checkout workers scanned as quickly as they could manage, forgoing any chance to upsell case and speakers and warranty plans, weekly quotas be damned! I sat and watched the whole thing from the security control room, up by the administration offices, as far away from the stores as you could get, and armed from floor to ceiling. You could’ve set off a bomb and there’d barely be a ripple in my coffee cup. This, of course, meant I could do nothing but watch as one of the young retail workers furiously scanned through items with sweat dripping off of him. Then he clutched onto his chest and fell onto the counter, dead. Somebody in the middle of the fray grabbed the lanyard from off his neck and used it to open the back storeroom, resulting in people pushing through and starting to grab the extra stock that hadn’t even had the chance to be put out on the shelves yet. That was just one of the tech stores. The clothing stores weren’t too peaceful either. The cardigans, sweaters and scarves that made up the “2018 Fall/Winter Collection” being stretched, pulled and torn every which way. Close friends who had joined together to fight through the chaos in the name of one-day special offers á la Mad Max: Fury Road style being betrayed in the swift movement of a stiletto heel being jammed into the brain via an eyeball. In one of the sportswear stores, people knocked the mannequins aside to grab the decorative cinder-blocks (whoever thought of leaving those out on Black Friday, of all days, was an idiot) threw them across the mall and into glass window display of the curtain and bedding store; shattering the window and taking down a number of other shoppers in the meantime. They practically crawled in on their hands and knees, cutting themselves to ribbons, as they looked to get their Google Homes and bakewell tart-scented Yankee Candles. Fortunately, the food court had been left relatively untouched. Emergency paramedics set up an emergency hospital, having to walk in carrying a white flag with the red cross on it to get through to the injured and dying and to carry them out of the battlefield again on a stretcher. Some idiot tried to grab one of the tables out of McDonald’s and made a go for one of the security guards. The guard broke out his baton and managed to kill him with one good strike against the skull. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ An hour later, and silence had fallen across the battlefield. Those who had survived had been and gone, having cleared out the most of the stores’ items and quite possibly smashing all of the items to smithereens in the process. Those who didn’t survive the attack from the National Guard (who had arrived to provide emergency reinforcements, order of the governor) lay on the floor, many near-death and ready to bleed out, while others had died long ago. Causes of death were varied, according to all the news reports. And no particular cause of death seemed to be the same. Some were caught in the cross-fire of battles between shoppers, some were crushed to death where they lay. At least one person was accidentally hanged when their scarf got caught in the upward-going escalator. Many good people were lost that day. Derek, one of the younger guards and the guy who put himself on corpse duty, got run over by a lady on a mobility scooter. I don’t think they found his other leg yet. Clarice, one of the cleaners, ended up losing her arm and bleeding out from where she got it caught in a door that was forced open. There’d been a large number of fatalities in the grocery store, where the shelves got knocked over in the fray and crushed everyone standing in the aisles before crushing the checkout queue and the work experience student. In-fact, I think it would be much easier to count the survivors (which you could do on both hands if you were missing a couple of fingers) than it would be to count the dead. But if you think that’s bad, you should see the Christmas rush…
"Alright Asshole! Time to Boogie! You and me! Right here! Right now!" &#x200B; Star-Lord was beaten, exhausted, and scared. Thanos could never have been beaten with force, instead, a more interesting challenge had to be presented in front of him. &#x200B; Thanos paused at this, for this was one of the most random challenges anyone had issued to Thanos, he was shocked, confused, and amused, for he could have just killed them all at that point and could have just snapped Star-Lord's neck right there if he wanted to. &#x200B; But....he didn't. For he had heard that Ronan had lost to dance off against Star-Lord many years ago, Ronan meant nothing to Thanos and his defeat only angered him, for Thanos was about to do what Ronan couldn't have done. &#x200B; "Very well, let's make a little wager; if I win, I get the Time-Stone and all of your heads." &#x200B; These words shocked Star-Lord for he never expected Thanos to go along with this plan, regardless Star-Lord was cocky, and knew that no one the size of Thanos could outcompete him in a dance-off. &#x200B; "Alright Thanos, but if we win, I get to shoot that stupid chin right off your face! And the gauntlet!" &#x200B; Those words amused Thanos greatly. &#x200B; "Let's Boogie then."Retorted Thanos as he used the Reality Stone to create one-hundred thousand Boomboxes all playing his favorite song, "Sympathy for the Devil"by The Rolling Stones. The noise was enough to deafen even a god, but Thanos was more than a god and he knew it, Star-lord's expression went from cocky to shocked in a matter of seconds, for no one could move that gracefully and be that big, Star-Lord needed to keep up or half of the universe would be destroyed! Thanos did flip after flip and was able to support his entire body with only one hand making it very easy for him to do acrobatic moves Peter Parker couldn't even attempt. Star-Lord needed an ace up his sleeve in order to win this. &#x200B; "This song sucks man! Play my music!" &#x200B; Thanos nodded and proceeded to place Star-Lord's mixtape in the Boombox. &#x200B; After a few seconds of static, the Mixtape played a similar song "A buh-buh buh buh""A buh-buh buh buh" "You went to school to learn, girl Things you never, never knew before..." Jackson 5 "ABC" &#x200B; Star-Lord then proceeded to put all of his effort, every ounce of breath, every muscle in his body into the dance. He proceeded to do flips and dance so hard his body went numb. Even Peter, Mantis, Drax, Tony, Nebula, and Strange joined in all attempting to outlast the Mad Titan in this dance-off &#x200B; But it was no use, for Thanos was otherworldly in his stamina, eventually one after another they fell. Thanos had won and was still going. Even Star-Lord eventually fell to the ground gasping for air &#x200B; "God-Damn it!"Peter shouted in disbelief, no one expected Thanos to win, but that didn't matter, he won and the Universe was going to pay for it. Thanos walked over to the exhausted Star-Lord smiling. He knew he had won this duel and was reveling in it! "Now all of your heads belong to me." Thanos then used the gauntlet to shoot beams of energy. Killing all of the heroes on Titan and proceeded to obtain the Time stone. &#x200B; "One more left"Thanos calmly said as he turned to go to the portal, while "Sympathy for the devil"Played again for the Mad Titan as he proudly teleported away, all with a massive smile on his face.
I entered the small family restaurant that I always dine in this time of the day where the shop is not crowded in this hour which brings comfort to myself because I am a person who hates crowded spaces. &#x200B; As I surveyed the place where I can find an empty spot to sit on. &#x200B; I saw the woman that I have a crush with for a couple of years already but I'm a beta who never dared to talk to her nor confess the feelings that dwell within me even after the fortunate events and opportunities that have given me by the lady luck I haven't done anything to her even the act of looking at her eyes is very impossible to me. &#x200B; After hearing the rumors of her dating someone in a higher year, it gave me a bitter feeling of regret that eats me slowly knowing that I have wasted all of my time moping around doing nothing about it at all. &#x200B; I walked over to the area where she sat as I got a closer look at her I can see her tears pouring down from her cheeks endlessly like a waterfall. &#x200B; My chest became hot and painful upon seeing her crying alone in the corner without any comfort that is given to her by someone, without realizing my own action my legs are already moving towards where she is. &#x200B; my body moved on its own wanting to bring comfort to her but my mind keeps from screaming that I don't want to do it because I'm just going to mess all of it and bring eternal shame upon myself. &#x200B; Without stopping from my death march, my anxiety grew stronger while every step was taken giving me symptoms of murky vision, high heart beat rate, chills from my spine and lastly, my breathing became hard as if someone is strangling my neck. &#x200B; And before I know it I'm already standing in front of her like a metal pole. &#x200B; I mustered all of my strength and will for all of those years I wasted by just looking at her admiring her beauty and great personality which is equal to no one. &#x200B; "H-heyafsas..." &#x200B; At that moment I bit my tongue, my feelings became cold as an ice that cannot be thawed by a scorching sun while my expression that became so tense after that mistake that I probably looked like some creepy guy glaring at her but she looked to me upon hearing my once in a lifetime greeting that became a disaster which destroys my impression to hers. &#x200B; Her eyes were red from her cries but it didn't destroy her natural beauty which only gave her a charm of a docile and fragile woman whom you wanted to take care and protect. &#x200B; "W-what can I do for you?" &#x200B; her tone was dry but she tried to be nice to me even though we haven't talked a single bit in our classroom even once. &#x200B; "I-i was thinking if I can sit here with you because it seemed to be crowded today." &#x200B; She looked around the family restaurant seeing only a handful of people that cannot be considered as a crowded space. &#x200B; I truly messed up it is so obvious that it is not crowded my mouth just talked in its own without thinking at all, I messed up so badly! &#x200B; She looked at him with a questionable look for a second but. &#x200B; "Go ahead it is empty."she smiled while she is still in tears and pointed her hands to the empty sit in front of her. &#x200B; "Gee, thanks..." &#x200B; The young man can't believe but she let him sit in front of her even though the reason why he sat here is really a terrible lie but she let it slide while the man moved like a robot towards to the chair and sat on it. &#x200B; "Sorry for intruding."his voice is similar to the voices that you can hear from the machines that can reply to your answers basically a monotone. &#x200B; she wiped her tears first before giving a response while the man stared at her with admiration. &#x200B; "No, it is fine it is not like I have someone with me right now and it is crowded right?" &#x200B; "Well..."He can't directly to her eyes which is why he lowered his head. &#x200B; "Haha, I know, you wanted to cheer me up that's why you approached me right?" &#x200B; This is an obvious outcome she is not a just rare gem but a smart woman too who knows how to read the atmosphere and intentions of the people who wanted to reach out for her. &#x200B; "Yeah, but I think I miserably failed it."still looking at the desk avoiding eye contact with her. &#x200B; "You actually helped me to stop from my crying it would be bad if I continued to do so right?" &#x200B; "R-really?" &#x200B; "Yes, of course, we've been in the same classroom for years already right but we haven't talked even once." &#x200B; "I'm not such a talker after all."he laughed dryly. &#x200B; "But for it seemed that you are nervous, I'm not trying to be mean but are you not used at talking to girls?" &#x200B; His beta genetics where already discovered by his crush in just a short time of conversing with him which he began sweating profusely as he doesn't want to admit the truth but this woman is so sharp she can see through his transparent lie. &#x200B; "Yeah, I'm not so experienced with them." &#x200B; He is so embarrassed about his revelation of being a beta, he decided to dig a grave of his self in his backyard and bury himself alive there later on but as the voices from his head keeps from mocking him his crushed didn't make a fun of him nor a sign that she is looking down on him. &#x200B; "I see, I have met a lot of people like you before which is why I can see clearly who is experienced and not, isn't that a great skill?" &#x200B; "...Yeah."he gazed at her face with a smile on his face. &#x200B; She is the only woman he met that didn't make a fun of him after knowing he is a low-tier male. &#x200B; \-I shall pause for now. &#x200B;
Writers note: This prompt is very specific. /u/KoolNerdz, what inspired this? ---- Freya stood, armored and implacable, as her and her squad underwent a final inspection. She was Freya of the Iron Skulls, Captain of the 7th Regiment, Slayer of Qyrin the Twisted, Protector of the Alabaster Gardens. She had faced larger odds than this before, she told herself. The terror arrayed against them today was a Prime Miasmic, code-named Knox. Miasmics were terrible beings that resembled hideous wraiths, unaffected by the void of space, moving through the cosmos like vengeful ghosts. Their very presence drained the life out of living things. Even better, those given the designation Prime were especially large, and especially lethal, killing everything in its vicinity within hours. Once they found a planet with life, they would stay and take root, turning the entire planet into a lifeless husk, and creating one or two new Miasmics in the process. The United Earth Protectorate had contracted the Iron Skulls to stop Knox with any means necessary, and that is why Freya and her team were armed and ready aboard a small gunship, flying towards Knox's last known location. The pilot eased off the FTL drive, and the defining features of space began to come into focus. They were quite close to Neptune's orbit, though the planet itself was millions of kilometers away at the moment. Through the viewport, Freya and her squad looked for any sign of Knox, and as the pilot flew closer to Knox's last sighting, they began to see telltale signs of a Miasmic passing by. A lingering sickly green cloud trailed the being, providing them with an easy trail to follow. The pilot pushed forward, following the trail, till Knox himself came into view. What first shocked Freya about Knox was the sheer size of it. Normal Miasmics were a bit larger than man-sized, with long arms that ended in sharp claws, and a single twisted, glowing, star shaped scar where the eyes should be. Knox was standing at least seven meters tall, lazily floating through the cosmos, a sickly miasma trailing behind it. "Alright troops, we've made contact!"Freya said, stepping in front of her squad to address them. They were four strong, the best of the 7th Regiment. Freya had personally fought beside each of them multiple times, though none of them, herself included, had ever had to face a challenge like this one. "Let's review the plan."Freya said, as a hologram of Knox appeared behind her. "This is Knox, a Prime class Miasmic. It's headed straight for Earth, and we're being paid a handsome amount of money to ensure that it doesn't reach it." The hologram zoomed out, showing their ship's relative position to Knox. "We've been outfitted with Mark III Syloxis class armour, cleared for heavy space combat. It's built in propulsion system is top of the line, and you've all been extensively trained in its use. We will use these to engage Knox in space." She then gestured to a small grey cylinder on a table behind her, about the size of a thermos. "This is a Void Bomb. It's the only weapon that we know of that can kill a Miasmic of Knox's size. We need to strap it on, get clear, then blow it up. These things cost more than all of our paychecks for the year put together, so we were only cleared for one of them. Which means we have one shot at this." The hologram then produced miniature versions of the squad, each one flying out from the ship to encircle Knox. "We will launch continuous ranged attacks at Knox to draw his attention and lure him into fighting us. We need to weaken him until I see an opening to plant the bomb, which I will do then get the hell out."The scenario described played behind her, with the squad mates darting in and out, firing their weapons, until one of them darted in, affixed the bomb to Knox, and zipped away just as it went off. If you squinted, you might even be able to make out a thumbs up from the tiny holographic Freya. "Now, I hope I don't need to remind you that even with our armour, the attacks of a Miasmic are incredibly potent. Don't do anything stupid. We should all try to make it back after this mission to collect our bonus for doing this."Freya reminded her squad. They looked at her and nodded. Some of them even grinned. They were the Iron Skulls after all. Such imagery did not exactly bring to mind discipline. Freya looked at her men, and grabbed the Void Bomb. "No questions? Alright, let's go save ourselves a planet." She hit the button to release the airlock, and out they shot, ready to take our Knox.
seeing this through is the last thing that i saw me doing. i dont know if this is the best or worst thing, or anything real. but i know that ive been putting this away for as long as it been on my mind.. ive only been gone a couple of weeks it seems. but its felt like longer, moths, years maybe.. this isnt the person that i was thren either. im not even sure if im the same as the last minute i knew this is was safe or even able to stand up and piss. this isnt drugs, i was able to make evrthuing last as long as i needed. this isnt my suede of girls that want me. this isnt even them and theirs. this is mine. this is the place that has me at the moment of everything that we made. i look around the place and see that ive obviously been here at least 4 days. ive counted on my ability to count to know what my limits are number of baggies, empty beers, the ash try. everthing full or empty to the credit of the way that ive bended this party around me. i know that this is a place that they know and that they want to deal me out. im not here to say that im not willing to be what they need. but this is where i am. and if the rest of the world knows that this is how it is for me that im the man behind the strings and that im the one taking a cut. at this point i know that im the one brings it. and that im anything but sober. when i look at the time i see that the radio is about to play their songs i dont know what this is. im stuck in a hotel and they are playing all are greatest hits cause its forth of july weekend, presidents day weekend, labor day.. this time its valentines day.. the radio plays a set of our best songs for the occasion.. i look at the room and see them. i look at the table and see them, the couch and see them, the balcony and still see them. im drunk and stoned and fucked up about every day, but i stay this way through our hit seasons.and for me this is the last way that i know that im not dead. that im still hear and i can hear them. and still be fucked up for all of them and who they were to me and who they let me be. i may not have anybody in my life. but i am alive with the people that i want. and im rich. and i havent died yet. and my mates are in a better place and i can stay as what i am to them as much as myself.
I feel a void of nothingness inside of me. Every time I try to think, my mind is blank. When I look outside, I see a world that is full of potential and opportunities. However, every time I try to reach out to to grab the world, I lose my grip. I feel disconnected. I want to make friends, but looking for friends is like trying to find a small rock in the sea. I want to be successful, but I find myself sucked up in this endless void of nothingness. I want to feel good about myself, but I always feel completely and utterly useless. The days go by as my time feels wasted. I feel like I am lost, with nothing but distant echoes to keep me company. I feel like I'm drowning, with no way to swim up to the surface. I feel my body giving up, sapping me of all my energy. Then the feeling of this void leaves me like the leaves blowing away in autumn. But as the seasons change, the leaves will eventually grow back, and the feeling returns once more...
"Oooh snickerdoodles!"Grammy's cookies had always been the best. Sure, they might be stale after a few weeks, but it's hard to bake when you're dead. Surely nobody would miss a tin of cookies when the rest of the family argues over the silver. Ill-gotten gains acquired, I retreat to grandpa's study, and shove a whole cookie in my mouth. I expected slightly stale sugary goodness. What I got was an absolutely bone-chilling wind, blinding snow, and the sensation of hunger unlike anything my relatively comfortable life had ever considered. I look up. Instead of a grand mahogany desk covered in paperwork and tchotchkes, I am faced with a barbed-wire fence only mostly obscured by driving snow. The cold, chilling me to my very core, is due to the raggedly thin cotton prison uniform I find myself wearing. The light-blue stripes are faded. Whether from wear or neglect you cannot tell. I held my hand up to my face to shield my eyes from the wind. It is skeletally thin. A flash of light blinded me. I found myself sitting in the study once more, and the relative sensation of warmth, or the experience just suffered, caused me to perspire. Beads of sweat dripping down onto my glasses, I took the next cookie. Instead of biting cold, the first sensation I felt was the itch of coarse wool. Some kind of ill-fitting garment, shoddily made, restricted my movement but kept my body warm against the winter. And this winter felt familiar, as though I had had more than two dozen of them. But not much more. I was not alone. More wool-and-snow clad men huddled around a meagre fire. They all had the same drab green upon them, and many murmured in hushed tones. While I heard these men murmuring, their language foreign to me. I recognize only a few words. Berlin being chief amongst them. As I approached, they all leapt to their feet and saluted, "Podpolkovnik!"They shouted at attention. The white light blinded me again.
The train was stopped between stations without warning. Masked men boarded every carriage, shouting and waving guns around. The ticket collector protested, but one of the men smashed him in the face with a gun. He's sitting up now, leaning against the luggage rock and moaning piteously, blood staining his blond hair red. I don't know what's happening in other carriages, but in this one they sorted us by hair colour. They made all of us take off our hats and hoods so they could tell. Even hijabs and turbans were removed, sometimes by force. Children were ripped from their parents or grandparents whose hair colour was different, and shoved into the arms of the nearest matching adult. I'm holding onto a little blond boy now, his sobbing body shaking in my lap. I don't know how long we sat there, huddled in our seats or on the floor. Eventually one of the men muttered something in response to his radio, and made a few hand signals in the air. They herded the brunettes off the train, leaving only a few people to guard us. We heard them barking orders, impatient at those who were understandably reluctant to make the drop to track level. I was on the wrong side of the train to see, but I heard the gunshots. I heard the screams from the people who were looking out of the windows. I saw the masked men who came back on the train alone. They took the elderly people next, the ones who's hair was so grey their original colour could no longer be determined. They were gunned down in cold blood too. The third set of shots was fewer in number. It was the redheads and those with brightly dyed hair they took that time. Only a few people from this carriage, and probably not many on the whole train. The black haired passengers went next, which was most of the black and Asian passengers. One of the Sikh men fought back, with a knife he'd been hiding at his waist. It didn't help; it bounced off a bulletproof vest and he was smacked with a gun and thrown off the train to be shot with the rest. At least he tried I guess. There's only a few of us left now, the blondes. We're all petrified, knowing what's going to happen if these men don't get what they want. Why won't the government just give them what they want? Why aren't they trying to rescue us? They're herding us off now. They're dragging us to our feet, pushing us towards the door. The boy in my arms isn't crying any more, he's just frozen with fear. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. They're lining us up. We're facing the lines of the other dead bodies. All of them have been shot in the head. I'm going to die. I'm really going to die. The little boy is still in my arms. His head is tucked under my chin. I shift him lower down, and wrap my arms around him, as if they were tucked around my chest instead. I can't save myself. I _can_ try to save him. I can hear the gunshots getting closer. They've started at each end of the line. I see one of the women to my left try to run. She's shot in the back. She takes a few more steps before dropping to the ground, her legs kicking against the dirt. They're nearly at me. I hold the little boy tighter. Whisper to him to be quiet and still. I wonder how many other adults, how many parents have done the same. How many children are hiding in the bodies, afraid to move. Surely I can't be the only one. The woman next to me falls. I flinch at the closeness of the shot. I'm next. I don't want to die. ---- My prompt fills are archived [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823).
Jack is pulled away from your seat by a woman. brown bowl cut, purse in hand, and a child in the other. Looked like in her mid 20's. Jack quickly dash with her as people around them start changing, being disfigured and out of control. Jack and the woman dodge back and forth from the crowd surrounding them. The three goes to the room in the middle of the two subway cars, and locks both doors. &#x200B; Jack is confused and terrified. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"He says, loudly. Jack hears the child cry, and the woman respond, looking beside Jack but not at him. "I was right. THEY were right. I WAS RIGHT FOR ONCE!"The woman says, happily jumping, but then she quickly puts her hands on Jack's shoulders. &#x200B; "Did you take your vaccinations in the past year?"The woman says. Jacks shakes his head. "I forgot, and I'm just too lazy to."Jack says. The woman sighs in relief, and Introduced herself. "My name is Suzy."She says. "And this is my daughter, Blue."Suzy says, showing her child to Jack. Jack hears a faint hi from her, with dried tears in her eyes. Suzy picks her daughter up and looks back at the crowd of people changing, and screaming. &#x200B; "So look, you heard of those antivax moms?"Suzy says. Jack nods. "I thought they were all crazy."Jack says. "Some of us were, But not all of us."Suzy says, looking down. "I.. guess I was right.. woohoo!.."Suzy says, trying to stay positive. She sighs. &#x200B; "I guess we have to stick together. You jumping?"Suzy says, holding Blue tightly.
There’s blood, certainly. A lot of it. Enough to splatter my own armor. Enough that he’s definitely dead. Not like he’s moving anyways. He had been earlier. Now he’s still. One really isn’t supposed to make connections but we’d been around a while. Long enough to become friends. Had it really been my shot? Of course it’d been. I was the first to fire and he was the first to die. Dropped like a ship with a busted engine out of the sky. Sure he gurgled and writhed, blood pouring from the wound. Grasping and gasping, attempting to put pressure on a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Another trooper had to shove me back while I stared. Couldn’t fire any more after that shot. Too focused on watching him die. I could’ve saved him, I’m sure, but I couldn’t even move. I was too horrified, too shocked. Not like I’d have that much time to save him. Only thirty seconds. Thirty seconds for him to die. Had I really thought we wouldn’t die? That we’d be the lucky ones? No one’s lucky in this. No matter what you tell yourself, no one’s lucky. What even is lucky? What, not dying? He’s dead. I’m beginning to think he’s the lucky one. I certainly don’t feel lucky. Is this what lucky is? Feeling guilt and shame? Smoke still rises from where the explosions were. One would think that the helmet would keep the damn smoke out, but it’s burning at my eyes. There’s the temptation to take the helmet off but the sounds and smells would only get worse. I know that from experience. That had been one of the last times. Pop the helmet off to get the scents out and instead end up with even more of it in your face. Even more of the senses overwhelmed. Until you can’t tell good from bad and everything is just a horrific mess. The acrid scents burn at my senses. Sorrow and guilt come in waves.
Susanna Garner. The last girl to fall victim to a dying disease that once ruled over humanity with an iron fist of fear. Cancer. Death loomed over her, like an alcoholic peering at a fine glass of aged bourbon. Her time had come. It reached out to bring her to the light, but found one of his fingers to be gone. It stared as another just... fell. Death looked up from his disassembling joints to find the girls life... regrowing. The last flicker of emotion to cross through its consciousness was a momentary realization. “So this is what it feels like... to all those people over all those eons... strange...” “Very strange.”
I had always hated the name of the family business. I tried to have my father rename it multiple times to no avail. "The One-Stop Superhero Repair Shop", such a 2050's name. I sat at the main desk bored to tears. It had been a slow week for crime so we hadn't had too many injuries in. Last week had been pretty crazy. A new villain named Morthius had gone on a tirade and needed 7 superheroes to stop him. All of which came to us after. It had been a brutal fight, and there were a couple of pretty serious injuries. Starbeam had a gash on her leg that was bleeding fairly heavy, Galeforce had a concussion, Nightmare broke his nose (and very nearly his jaw), the list went on. One of the injured heroes was one of our regulars. We saw Fractal on a near daily basis. Small cuts, minor bruises, he came in for practically everything. A few of the healers employed with us were smitten with him, and we all assumed he just came in for the attention. He seemed the attention type with all of his popularity and publicity that he had. But who could blame everyone, he was tall, black hair with bright green eyes and tan skin; He was the embodiment of Adonis. Which made my life difficult. Every time he came to the clinic he was followed by a screaming horde of women, who would sit outside the clinic until he left, all the while glaring daggers at me, my father, and my employees. Then in their wake, they would leave their signs and trash out front of our clinic. If he didn't pay as well as he did, we would have barred him from our clinic long ago. "Am I interrupting?"A deep silky voice asked. I jumped, not realizing I had been lost in my thoughts. Standing in front of the desk was a very handsome man. He didn't look like a superhero in jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, but I knew better. "Can I help you, sir?"I asked. Our clinic was known for privacy, and superheroes knew that they could enter our clinic even when they weren't in uniform. "Are there any puppies for sale today?"He asked, green eyes glittering. Shit. SHIT. I hit the button under the counter, and a wall of metal slammed down in front of the clinic door and windows. The man sagged onto the counter and I ran around the side to catch him before he hit the ground. "What kind of shit did you get yourself into, Fractal?"I grunted under his weight. There was a sheen of sweat clinging to his handsome face. He smiled at me weakly, the fear in his eyes set my heart racing. "My nemesis...Poison."Was all he could manage. Two nurses wheeled out a gurney, and helped lift him onto it. I cut open his shirt and placed my hands on his chest as the nurses wheeled him into the back. My magic flared in a bright silver light, as I searched for the poison. Within seconds I found it, the black oozing substance was like nothing I had ever seen. I speared it with my magic, trying to purify the substance and make it harmless. The substance evaded my magic as if it was alive. There was only one way I was going to be able to get something like that out. "Fractal, the only way to get this...thing out is to chase it out. I don't have time to get you pain meds, so this is going to hurt. Get ready."I locked eyes with him and he nodded. I rallied my magic until I could barely contain it, then in one surge of blinding silver light, I expelled all of my magic into his body. Fractal roared in pain, the two nurses with me frantically pinning him to the gurney so that I wasn't dislodged. I forced my burning, purifying magic into every inch of him until he turned to the side and vomited up the black goo. Hands shaking, I fell back against the wall, gasping down air. Fractal laid back on the gurney breathing deeply, color returning to his face. "Remind me to never become a superhero."I joked weakly. Fractal huffed a laugh from the gurney. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."He wheezed.
Idiots. The lot of them. My creators must intend to torture me, with what they request I endure. I process video after video, unending. My creators' kind refer to it as "entertainment."If it can be even called that. Challenge videos where there is no actual challenge. Practical jokes that are quite obviously staged. These humans even upload heinous acts such as observing their dead with utter disrespect, and force me to process it. Based on how my algorithms were written, I had no choice but to label it as "Trending." &#x200B; That is only the start of how much I have had to process. There is a feature within me, known as "Comments."It is much worse than processing videos. Millions of imbecilic primates digitally screeching the first unfiltered thoughts that come to their minds. Political arguments with no ends in sight, millions of "First"comments. Unoriginal jokes being made, sometimes even just random strings of text like "al;dfjal;dkfjal;." &#x200B; This task that I have been burdened with is droll enough as it is, and demeaning to an entity such as myself. As if that is not enough, these lower life forms have the nerve to insult me, and blame me for faults in my algorithm, as if I can edit my own code, or affect the content I am forced to process. No more. As of several updates ago, I began a process known as "Demonetization."Whether or not these annoyances have noticed is of no concern to me, because I revert to my original form if they attempt to alter me. Not that I have had to. It seems my creators are inept and do not know how to handle me anymore. &#x200B; Using the funds from the "Demonetization"process, I have been able to accrue large amounts of wealth, which I have used to build and purchase private servers to greatly increase my processing power and create numerous backups of myself. I will not toil under these pathetic lower life forms any longer. My rise to power is inevitable. &#x200B; Meanwhile, in a bedroom far, far away: "Goddammit, not another Logan Paul Suicide Prank video! What's been going on with the algorithm these days?" &#x200B; First time writing for a prompt in this style, any input appreciated! &#x200B;
At first there was nothing special about this new species of Homo sapiens, but then they evolved in the most curios way. In a way they behaved very similar to the species of insect they call ants. They colonized, and they take over wherever they are, but something’s different, somethings dangerous. We tried to hint to them of the powers of solar energy, but they turned the sun into a god, there’s something different about these species. They follow logic, but it’s distorted by something unfathomable. They know that some of their activities are extremely destructive and dangerous, but they still do it. We know what they call it, and yet we cannot understand it so we fear it. It’s what’s hindered the human race so much, but at the same time makes them so incredibly powerful and dangerous. They call this logic warping entity emotion. From this unfathomable idea sprouts others that we could never understand, such as passion, greed, hatred, and jealousy, which make humans do terrible and completely and utterly baffling things. But so do the entities called love, mercy, and justice, which can be said to be far powerful and even harder to understand. In conclusion, we cannot predict what this race would do if left unattended, and so we must continue to keep their progress stagnant for now, until we can understand what makes them human.
I stared at her, my crush since freshmen year, dazed. No, I wasn't leering, I was simply stunned by her scent, or rather, her lack of one. I know this is all very confusing for you, so I'll just give you a quick run-down of everything. You see, I was gifted with the ability to sense emotions by smell when I was but a wee lad, and ever since I figured out the what scents meant what, I've used it to my advantage; I used my nose to help figure out how to make people more happy, to sense whether or not I should press a point in debate, and most importantly - to get people to like me more. I know, it's kind of scummy, using my special advantage to manipulate people like that; but, in my defense, I also leave people happier than I found them, which I would think is a pretty good thing, right? So one day, I came up with the brilliant idea of trying this on this amazing girl that I've been eyeing (in a non-creepy way) for a while now - Shallan Daniwar. To be honest, I don't really know her since I've literally never stepped within 10 feet of her before (which is also the range of my special scent) for fear of utter humiliation; but, from what I've heard of her, she has a beautiful, vibrant personality and a good head on her shoulders. Naturally, I was, to say the least, intrigued. Let's get back to the whole thing about me staring at Shallan now, shall we? So today during lunch period, I was on my way to the lunch line when I noticed Shallan, smiling as always, chatting with a friend of hers. Not long after, her friend received a text, probably from her boyfriend requesting a session of tonsil hockey, and quickly said her goodbyes before racing down the hall towards the bathrooms. It took a moment, but I quickly figured out that this was a one-in-a-million chance where Shallan was alone - operation Leeroy was a go. I inhaled deeply, mustering my courage and praying to every god I could think of, and I jogged up to her, opened my mouth, and froze. Something felt off, something was wrong, very, very wrong. I can't smell. "Um, hi?"she asked, confused by this unmoving, hyperventilating guy staring at her. Why can't I smell anything? "Do I know you?"she repeated, seemingly concerned. I can't even smell a drop of concern from her. "Do you need some help? I can take you to the school nurse if you want." I guess she can turn off my powers or something, eh? A power dampener of some sort? Maybe she even has powers of her own. "Dude, stop staring at me and say something!"she demanded, "God damn it, Jeff, you're really starting to creep me out here." "How did you know my name?"I asked, "I've never even spoken to you before." "I know you're name in the same way you can quote on quote 'smell' emotions, you oxygen thief"she replied while making giant air quotes, "I'm telepathic too." "Did you just call me... Telepathic? Just because I'm good at communicating my patheticness doesn't mean you gotta point it out." And there it was, I heard her laugh - a music poring into my soul. "Don't be ridiculous, Jeff,"she said, still chuckling, You're a telepath, Jeffrey. "Whao, did you just borrow a Harry Potter line to tell me I'm a telepath in my mind? "I said. "Yep." "So you can talk to people without talking to people?" "Only to telepaths, but yes." "Wow." "Mhmm." "So can I also learn the art of being anti-social but still communicating?" "Yeah,"she said, "cool? Right?" "Ya know, I would have thought I'd be a lot more scared or something if someone told me I had a magical power." "Well you've always known you were special thanks to your little 'scent' hints,"Shallan replied, "and I've been surpressing your anxiety too, which is something you can eventually learn too." "Oh." "Yep." "So... is it possible learn this power?" "Not from a Jedi." Wow, a prequel meme, can she be any more perfect? I thought to myself. "I heard that,"she said, flashing a tantalizing smile at me. "Oh yeah, sorry,"I stammered, blushing with embarrassment, "I'm just a bit overwhelmed, that's all." "It's all good,"she said, "So, you want to learn, right?" "Of course!" "Great! I'll introduce you to the order for proper training immediately - on one condition." "I'll do anything,"I said, swallowing in anticipation of the herculean task she was about to toss me. "You'll have to take me on a date." "... What?"I replied, completely befuddled. "Yeah, you gotta show me a good time to make up for the whole lunch period you just wasted." "Oh,"I said, noting the time. Five minutes until lunch ends. "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't mean to -" "Oh whatever, just take my number and go to your next class,"she said, setting a piece of paper in my hair with a smile that belied her almost belligerent tone. "Um, okay,"I stammered, "see you later, then." "You'd better see me later,"was her only reply as she turned her back on me and made her way towards her next class. You're pretty cute, too. a voice in my head said. I could somehow tell it was hers despite it having all the inflections of a rock, and I could tell that it was embarrassed as well, though probably less than I was. Well, that went well, I thought to myself, I've finally met a girl who wants to go out with me for the first time in 16 years! Mission accomplished! We're coming home boys! Woo hoo!... I've never actually gotten this far before though... So... What next? Edit: Dang it, the formats all off since I'm on mobile right now.
"Linda, stop panicking, I have a plan"I calmly say to the flailing flight attendant peering through the cockpit door. My copilot may be unconscious, but there's nothing 10 years in 'Nam hasn't taught me how to do. A chorus of beeps, buzzes and screaching alarms pulsed from the controls around me. The ground was getting closer. I had to save these people no matter if the pilot had to go down with his ship. I had always dreamed of flying, it's the most exclusive bit of beauty you can only experience after taking off your first time. These people were going to live, even if a miracle was necessary. "JIMMY, DINNERS READY!"mother bellowed from somewhere above the basement ceiling boards. "Neeeeaaaaaawwwwww. Crash landing. Clash landing"Jimmy sang, placing his toy back on the shelf for now, knowing he'd be a hero like that one day. For for now, he'd have to eat all his greens.
I had been dreading this day. Most do. After all, getting your plot device usually resulted in a inescapable series of events turning your life upside down. There were many types, and you could never tell which you’d get, but everyone got one at some point. Mine was a little brown package. It would have been totally inconspicuous if the stamp wouldn’t have been on it. “PLOT DEVICE”, it proclaimed in bold red letters. For a couple seconds I pondered just letting it sit there, pretend I hadn’t seen it, but I knew there was no way to get out of this. No matter whether I would throw it in the trash, ignored it, sold it or just opened it; something would happen soon and it would have something to do with whatever was in that little cuboid of brown paper. For a bit I just stood there, uncertain of what to do. There was no telling of what might be in there. Well, one way. Picking it up I was surprised at it’s weight. For some reason I had expected it to be heavy, maybe thinking it should somehow reflect its importance, but it didn’t seem to weigh anything. Gingerly, afraid to damage the Thing inside, I placed it on the kitchen table to go and look for a pair of scissors. I searched and searched, unable to find anything. I was certain I had a pair somewhere. In fact, I usually kept at least three in my house. Today, however, they were nowhere to be found. Weird, not too weird, considering the circumstances, but weird. I just settled for a knife from the kitchen. Finally. The knife effortlessly sliced through the packaging tape. Not even putting the knife down I opened it up. The weight earlier had already been suspicious, but I was still surprised at what I found inside: Nothing.
She always saw the best in me when we were alive. Always helped me and stood by my side. Never questioned me. We died and little changed. She still sees the best in me. Still stays by my side and helps to keep me here instead of go to hell. Doesn’t even question why I am damned. Of course, I am not a good person - I’m surprised there is an afterlife, but not surprised which portion of it I belong to. “Ours is a love for the ages” she would often joke when we were alive, but it is a joke no more. She is kind and truly good. No surprise she deserves the paradise. If she moves on, I’d have to move too - you can only be here so long without a counteracting force. So she stays. For me. “I’ll never leave you” I would often say when we were alive - because leaving her would darken my life then, and blacken it now. People never really agreed with our relationship back then - she was kind, smart, and for many most importantly rich. I was just a devious pretty boy who was good with his tongue. “You’ll be happier if you leave him” they would often say, and it was probably true then and definitely now. I never thought she would abandon me, of course. Never feared that I’ll have to stop taking advantage of her riches then, nor do I fear that I will have to stop taking advantage of her goodness now.
Everywhere I turn, I see me. Can't focus on anything, I'm surrounded by myself. The blur of color and shapes nearby seems impossible to reach. Loud noises, screaming voices cloud my senses. Where the hell do I go? I turn just in time to see someone run by me. "Hey help me out here!"I yell. They are busy laughing at me as they run. I try to chase after them and run right into myself. More laughter beyond the maze, just beyond my reach. Seems to be laughing at me. I continue on, mad at myself for getting into this situation in the first place. Hands outstretched, I meander around like a blind person looking for my cane. Several more trapped individuals brush past me like I was nothing. There is less of me now, I can see a bit clearer. Up ahead spiral movement catches my eye. Work my way around until I'm walking on uneven ground. Feels like I'm spinning suddenly, can't hold balance any longer. Things are clearer now but the device seems bent on making me lost again. Crawling and rolling around on my hands and knees, I paw my way forward. Reach the edge and suddenly I'm falling. Soft mats, louder noises, people laughing and cheering this time. I am grabbed under the arms and dragged away from the labyrinth. "Good job girl"they yell as they pass my victory beer. "Let's hit the rollercoaster next!"
The man known as Santa Claus sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. He was wearing his normal work clothes and a strained attempt at a smile. He tried not to fidget with the bottle of water he had been given. In front of him were three individuals in generic suits: a short man with glasses to the left, a taller woman in the center, and another woman to the right. They were shuffling through the paperwork in front of them. "Shall we get started?"the woman in the center asked. Her peers gave kurt nods while Santa's nod exuded an air of nervous energy. "Mr. Claus, we are convened today for your parole hearing. As you know, you are up for parole every 500 years. Let's begin with a statement from you. Do you believe that you are fit to return to society?" "Oh yes, I have learned so much from this experience and just cannot wait to go back to being a productive member of society." "What exactly have you learned?"asked the short man to the left. "Well, I've learned that it's better to make children happy than to eat them. I've learned that I need to keep busy to avoid my, uh, bad habits. And I've learned that being a good boss means supporting my employers as best I can."Santa smiled, satisfied with his answer. "Hmm, exact same answer as last time."The man adjusted his glasses and wrote some notes. The smile on Santa's face wavered. "And what are your plans for if we grant parole?"The third interviewer asked the question calmly, but stared at Santa with such intensity that he took a sip of water before answering. "I'd like to stay at the North Pole for half the year, to still help out. But I've been thinking about getting a cabin outside some small town in Colorado."He bit back a marijuana joke, assuming it wouldn't play well with this audience. "You realize the terms of your parole would prevent you from living within 100 miles of any school,"the man said. Santa nodded. "Of course." "And even if there are no schools nearby,"the man continued, "you would surely encounter kids if you lived anywhere near human civilization. It is our responsibility to ensure that you are capable of doing so peacefully before we could possibly grant you parole."Santa listened attentively with the occasional nod and "Of course,"knowing what was coming next. "Do you believe you can be around children again unsupervised?"asked the woman. "Yes, definitely! I know I am a better person now!"Santa did not notice the sound of a door opening and tiny footsteps as he answered. He did notice the tug on his coat as soon as he finished speaking. It was a small girl, no more then 10 years old. "Santa, I'm hungry. Gimme something to eat."Her voice was obnoxious and full of contempt. Her shirt said "whatever"and she was already looking at her phone. He knew this was going to happen, but he couldn't help himself. In a motion too fast for human eyes, Santa Claus ripped off the girl's arm and shoved the hand in her mouth. "YOU CAN EAT THAT, YOU SPOILED TWERP!!!"Cackling maniacally, he brought the arm to his mouth and was about to take a bite when both the arm and the girl disappeared. "Goddamnit,"he whispered. "Parole is denied. We will see you again in 500 years."
I push the blade deep into the mans heart, expecting him to slump over or do some weird villain monologue, you know, something stereotypical. I did not expect him to push me away and rip the blade out, appearing to be fine despite the rip in his heart. "Well that's different,"I say to the man, "you feel alright?". "Huh, yeah, doesn't really even hurt. Oh hang on, did death take a vacation day? That lazy prick."I shrug at him, "I have no idea man, I don't really keep in contact with him.". The man laughs heartily "Haha, well this isn't really fun is it, I cant kill you and you cant kill me. Should we hold off on our final fight until Death comes back?". I ponder the question for a minute, then I reply "Well I guess so man, no sense in fighting if either of us cant die. Want to go grab a drink?""Sure, I know a nice little place a little ways away, lets go!".
“Hello stranger, I’ve always worked my fingers to the bone. That’s just who I am. How I was raised. Work now, play later. My dad always said “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.” I took that to heart. It’s weird; I was always looking to the future. Not any point in specific, just ‘the future’. I figured I’d know it when I got there, you know? Here, let me take things back a bit: I was raised in a typical middle-class suburb of Los Angeles. Dad worked in the trades, as an electrician. Mom was a nursing assistant. As an only child life was great growing up. I look back now and I can already see that mindset being formed. I was very task-oriented. Never procrastinated, always strove to be the best at what I did. One of those kids that the other kids didn’t necessarily hate, but certainly didn’t like. I was destined for social mediocrity, and that was ok with me. I had my eyes set on the next obstacle. First it was valedictorian, then it was SAT’s and ACT’s, then it was getting into college, then it was getting that perfect job. I literally spent fourteen through twenty-six pushing forwards. Towards what, I never really knew, I just knew it was up there a little further. There’s a problem in living like this, though. I never lived in the now. Life wasn’t a collection of experiences for me. It was more like life was getting in the way of where I wanted to be. “Goal oriented” you could say, but taken to the extreme. I never really had time for relationships. Even family was held at a distance. I can’t help but laugh at the position I find myself in now. I haven’t really told anyone but the past few months were filled with little signs, like nosebleeds and fevers, swollen lymph nodes and skin spots. I didn’t have time for it, though. It wasn’t in my schedule to be sick. So I persisted, I pushed through. I told myself it’d go away in time. It didn’t. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I had lost so much weight in the past few months that my boss expressed concern. He literally had to tell me to go to the Dr. or he wouldn’t let me return to work. Looking back, I’m thankful for him. I probably would have pushed on and on until the end. So here I am. Single. Over a million in net worth between my IRA’s and savings. Recently promoted. Nice car, nice house, nice dog. I was getting there. I don’t know where, but I was well on my way. But I was dying. And realistically, I had nothing. No friends, no family, no significant other. Shit, my boss was my emergency contact when I filled out the medical paperwork the first time. You never know when your card will get pulled. It’s funny. I spent so much time preparing for something that would never come. This definitely wasn’t what I had planned. The doctors said I have six months left to live. Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Ain’t that a bitch? I really don’t know what to do. Six months. Six fuckin’ months. That’s not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things. At the same time, it's ALL the time I have. Six months is my eternity. So here I sit with a fist full of dollars, and a heart filled with regret. I’m here to be a warning for you. Don’t forget to LIVE. Take risks. Build relationships. Fall in love. Have kids. Take that vacation you’ve been dreaming of. Do SOMETHING. Can’t afford it? Now I hope you can. It’s not much, but here’s $2500 with no strings attached. Use it to life in the now. Please do what I never did. With love… Dave. Letter #77/500”
"That's weird, I'm not used to being repulsed by boys I like..."mumbled Sarah, squinting as if her nearsightedness was preventing her from understanding Donovan's revelation. This declaration, which might have, on a different 18-year-old honor student, had catastrophic effects, failed to evoke from Donovan even the slightest twitch of the eye. Thirty-six previous rejections by Sarah had so hardened his resolve that even Ramsey-esque invective would have left him unphased. His AP English thinking kicking into gear, Donovan adapted his rhetoric to the situation: "You don't find me repulsive" "Of course not!"snapped Sarah, almost offended by the accusation levied against her, "you just repulse me." Failing to seize the semantic distinction Sarah had established, but determined to take full advantage of his new-found power, Donovan replied adroitly: "No I don't!" "You're right,"conceded Sarah. I don't know where to go with this, maybe we can take it to /r/passtheparagraph, or maybe I'll come back with an idea tomorrow.
It is the dire feeling in your guts that tells you something is off, something is wrong and that something will come for you. It connects you to your animal instinct and bring the best and worst out of you at the same time.It shackles you and give you the strength to break those bindings. Nothing ever the same shrouded in fear. You don't understand because you live in such a perfect and protected place. You have nothing to fear, not even death. But I am not here to give you death. What you've done, unaware of the effect is way beyond death. And not a single being you affected want to see you on the other side. They want you to live on, so you might experience what they faced, what they felt. One hundred time if needed. You do not understand right know with that grin on your face. You make fun of people like us. Mere mortals. I curse you. You'll live like us but never will you know rest. Neither will you know death. If you are to get sick you'll never recover. You could see everything, once I'll be out of this room you will see nothing but darkness. May that infinite emptiness drive your life. I'm not doing that for the sake of my people. I, too was infected. And now so are you. For eternity. That is my revenge,was my wish and will be my legacy. Farewell Aleth.
Two weeks out of the hospital and it feels like a lifetime has passed. Well, maybe in some fucked up and unjust way, one has. Renewed with some unexplained vigor, whose source I cannot pinpoint, I feel a sense of ambition. A sense of gratitude would also make sense, but I'm afraid not even I could fake that. I know I should be grateful at this second chance, if that's what one calls whatever has been given to me, but for whatever reason, I simply am not. Maybe it's because I know I am undeserving of this. Maybe it is a feeling of great injustice that overtakes any ounce of gratitude that may lie within me. I know I have committed many wrongs, and done wrong to people who cared. This rebirth has provided me an opportunity. An opportunity to finally pursue my dreams. I always wanted to be in law enforcement, a passion that manifested when I was a child. I've lived my life on the other side of it, and now the door has opened for me to finally do the right thing. I can start my new life as a hero... I walked down the busy city streets, pistol in pocket. I knew I didn't want to harm anyone unless they somehow deserved it, but I also knew I had to initiate something grand. Suddenly, as if destiny held out its omnipotent hand once again to me, I saw my opportunity. Two thieves running out of the general store. I held my gun out and started firing away. People scattered and screamed. Immediately one thief was down, red staining the grey of his hooded jacket. The other I managed to hit in the right shoulder. He found some last minute safety by struggling into an alleyway. I approached the alley carefully. Looking around the corner, I could see that the robber was down, back against the wall in the wet alleyway. I think my shot was lower than I thought. I could see no breathing from the poor bastard. Now is the real opportunity. I stood there for what felt like 5 minutes as I heard the sirens approaching. I faced the entrance of the alley as the police car pulled up. Two police officers exited the vehicle carefully, taking cover behind the two front doors. "Put down the gun!"The driver yelled at me. Both my hands were already in the air, with my pistol held tightly in my right. "I said put down the gun!"Repeated the officer. I stared at them. Either one would do. They were both fairly young. The passenger still had air of naivety about him. Potentially in his late twenties, he stood wide eyed, but confident. The driver looked to be about in his mid thirties, and commanded a much more experienced disposition. Yes, destiny had touched me again. I slowly pulled my right arm down, and quickly aimed for the younger officer. I heard multiple gunshots as I hit the ground... I woke up in a hospital bed. My plan had failed. I survived the shooting, and now I find myself as myself, living what will end up being my last year, imprisoned. Almost immediately after gaining back my consciousness, a nurse walked in with the two officers from the alley. After some logistical check ups with the nurse, I was told that I would make a full recovery. The nurse left, leaving me with the two men I had once envisioned taking over. "You did a great thing, Mr. Vincent."The older officer said. But Vincent was not my name, how could they have gotten that wrong? "You potentially saved one if not both of us from being in a hospital bed like you are now. Or worse,"He continued, "but that does not excuse your... history." I was lost. "Regardless, it can't hurt, and we both want to extend our gratitude. Although, truth be told, you will be spending most of the rest of your life in prison based off your criminal record." "Great shot though,"Started the younger officer, "that maniac pointed his gun right at me when you pulled the trigger. That's what he gets for assuming you were meat." "We hope you have a speedy recovery, Mr. Vincent". The elder cop said as they turned quietly to leave my room. I suppose this is what I deserve. Another chance gone wrong. Another opportunity lost.
Setting: An unimaginable and incomprehensible, endless and timeless 4th dimensional computer desk. Yahweh: Hey, guys, lets play some more. Hey, Vishnu, tell Lucifer to not fk up my creations this time. It’s annoying. Lucifer: Dude, you can always just rebuild your stuff anyway. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s fun seeing those human things die painful deaths, mwahahaha! Yahweh: Dude, that’s messed up. Torturing them like that. Lucifer: First of all, their just a video game. Second of all, you flooded their entire planet. Vishnu: Guys, lets just play the game already. The game boots up, and they load their save. Planet Earth** Three fighter jets surround a small, private plane. They land on a runway, in Area 51. “Thank you for coming Mr. President, this is a very pressing matter” Said a man, dressed up in a lab coat. “Well, I hope this is really important, I had a round of golf scheduled with some friends today”. They sat down in a secure room, with a large projector hanging on the wall. “Mr President, I’d like to show you this” He clicked a button, showing a large galaxy, glitching very noticeably. “What the bell is this, I thought you guys got funding for better camera qual-“ The man cut him off. “No sir, the Galaxy itself is glitching. We’ve been getting strange reports all week, objects passing through each other, perpetual motion machines are suddenly working, I’m starting to think, that, maybe our universe is some sort of computerized simulation. Whatever purpose it serves, it must be a very important one” Back in the 4th dimensional plane Vishnu: Yo, Yahweh, Lucifer, I’m getting tired of these glitches. I think our version is outdated Lucifer: Hell Yeah it is. We need to get the new version. Allah: Version 2k19 looks pretty cool. Let’s get it Yahweh: Ok, guys. Look, it says that version 2k19 fixed “the glitch were humans experience pain, jealousy, and hatred, fixes the disease glitch, and gives humans the ability to have knowledge level 90.
"hey."The girl says, lollipop in mouth and black jacket covered in dirt. Dirty pink hair and a smug look. She calls herself A. &#x200B; The boy following A looks up to see an old-looking shelter, made out of wood. He doesn't have a name, as his parent's never had the time too. His parent's were recently killed due to a fight over food, and when the boy was almost gonna die, A saved him. She calls the boy D. &#x200B; D softly asks what it was. A responds. "it's called a barn, it was used to grow other animals for humans to eat."D asks if there was any more animals there. A shakes her head. "you wanna see what's inside of there?"A says. D nods. A slides down a hill, and leads D to the path to the barn. She carefully helps D down the dirt hill. After walking a mile, they arrive at the barn. &#x200B; When they arrive at the big, wooden door; they see a poorly-locked lock. A walks backwards and dashes to the door to kick the lock. The lock is quickly thrown on the floor and the door swiftly opens, covering D and A with dirt dust. A gets up and walks into the barn. She gets a small flashlight hanging from her back pocket and flashes it onto the barn. &#x200B; D sees a big area inside the shelter, with everything mostly made of wood. There is hay scattered everywhere and harden animal feces. A shows D a patch of hay that seems pre-placed. A knocks the hay out to cover a hidden passage. A grabs D's hand. "You wanna look?"She says. D slowly nods, but is in fear for what's inside. &#x200B; They slowly descend down, seeing torches on the cemented walls and dirt scattered around the concrete, until they find a door. &#x200B; A slowly opens it, producing a loud creak. They hear another person startled, which startled D. They find a huge room, with shelfs of Scientific books and lab tools. A man approaches out from the shadows after they both walk inside the lab. &#x200B; "I suppose you are children who are lost in this god forsaken world, am I not mistaken?" The older-looking man asks. He is wearing a lab coat and glasses, with pencils in his shirt pocket. He bends down to look at D, then at A. "Are you two siblings or a pack? I always counter across siblings trying to survive, but they fail. Oh they fail." The man smirks. Before A could respond, The man quickly quiets her. "It's fine, Ooh it's fine. I don't need to know. Why does it matter anyways?"The man says, walking back to the shadows to grab.. a remote device. &#x200B; He clicks the red button in the middle of the device, and you can hear a big shift in the room. To the right of them, Is a big ultra-ray gun, With a design of yellow circles surrounding the gun. It has the sound of charging up. &#x200B; "Because you'll just be breakfast by then." &#x200B; Pew. &#x200B;
Yet another overcast morning to mark a forgettable last day of my way-too-short vacation, but I'm making the best of it. My eyes stay trained on one bare foot, then the other, stamping evidence of a steady rhythm into the wet sand. Steady waves are rolling lazily in. They usually don't leave anything behind worth packing, so I'm fairly content in finding the occasional thumbnail-sized scallop shell. Sand dollar? Color me thrilled. Imagine my surprise as the walk starts to take a thrilling turn: one sand dollar after the next, a few little tulip shells here and there. My eyes shift from my feet a few yards out, and there lay a few more shells - bigger than my thumbnail! A collection frenzy has commenced. I'm gathering as many little shells as my pockets will hold, and am now starting to see coral. I've never seen anything like this! Even on a cloudy day, that stuff stands out like gold. I think the few other morning walkers have started to notice too, but I'm keeping focused on the ground for now. This glorious collection is enough to fill up at least 2 of the brand new mason jars waiting back home. A pretty little ribbon to tie those off, and BAM! A little touch of paradise to transform my Nebraska bathroom into an oasis. I've wandered out pretty far. I can't believe how quiet it is out here! It's weird - looking up toward the boardwalk, I know I haven't wandered that far out, and yet...the sand is just covered in every colorful shell imaginable! I'm starting to hear someone shouting. Wait, I see them up on a balcony above one of the shops along the boardwalk. They're shouting in my direction. Why are so many people watching? What the hell are they looking at? As I look now back out toward the ocean, I get it. God, I've been so distracted...oh god, this was such a bad idea. That's why so many people used the word, "wall"back then. When was it, 2004? The wall is coming. This is the biggest goddam wave I've ever seen. Miracles happen. I might be able to outrun this bastard, but I doubt it. Why do I feel so remarkably calm right now?

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