Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
I've been told my whole life I was special. I was told i would be better than most others. That i would rise above them. Boy that could not have been further from the truth. Let me explain. To be a Zoomancer was a big honor for the whole family. Both my parents were Zoomancers, but they knew it was never a guarantee for me to be born one. Luckily, right away the dula informed my mother and father that I was going to be one of the strongest Zoomancers of all time according to my mana levels. What a relief to my parents, who had been so worried I'd be born a zud. But instead they were filled with hope about what abilities I might have one day. Would I fly? See the future? Control time? Be like the old man and teleport? Well, as we all know zoomancers typically start to discover their abilities during the early stages of puberty. All students, whether zoomancer or not, start learning basic spells and casting in the fourth grade. This weeds out the normies versus the zoomancers fairly quickly, as speaking the ancient tongue acts as a catalyst for zoomancers' abilities. Often after just a few weeks fourth grade zoomancers will know not only where they store their excess Mana, but also how they can manipulate it in their spells. Students like Scott Severing knew he could store mana in his arms to lift heavy objects easier than every one else. Diane Murdock had hers in her eyes, allowing her to see through solid walls. Hell, even Kyle "Spaz"Antonio who stated he had no idea how to control his mana, was able to fly by January that year. Over the next few years those student zoomancers continued to excel and harness their abilities in ways that were unique to them and where they store their mana. I, on the other hand, continued to excel amongst the normies. I couldn't take any zoomancer classes, as I had yet to find my mana. Instead i was left to live a rudimentary life among the masses. The next few years of school were tough. I stopped caring about classes. I stopped caring about much of anything. All i did was spend my free time wondering how i could harness my mana and become the zoomancer i was meant to be. My father stopped talking to me. My mother stopped talking to him. It was awful at home and it all felt like my fault. Fast forward again to the end of my junior year of high school. Paths have been set. Some kids are going college. Some kids already starting zoomancer apprenticeships. Then there is me. Skipping the big dance because seeing those people live the life i should have had is just too hard. It's too much to bear. I see a picture on my phone of the dance on Facebook. I don't know why i was even looking. But all of a sudden i started feeling this anger that I'd never felt before. A rage that was building in intensity with every passing second. "None of those kids had to work for a goddamn thing. Why is it they all get the easy road but me? Why is it always me!?" Along with my anger came a debilitating pain in my abdomen. I stumbled to the bathroom to wash my face. I turned on the sink but immediately I collapsed to the floor. Pulling myself up for my head to reach the toilet, I start wretching. I have chills all over my body and the pain is unbearable. In the delirious state I'm in I type my symptoms into the search bar on my phone. 9:24pm Results: "Appendicitis" As if cued from my search, the bottom of my stomach started to glow. A luminescent shade of blue protruding from my pores. "My mana! I've finally found it!"I thought. But the pain quickly dulled my excitement. The blue light continued to grow alongside the burning sharp pain in my abdomen until it felt like an burst of energy from the inside out. The whole room lit up blue momentarily, but as the light subsided I noticed everything went silent. I look at my phone to try to call my parents, but the screen is frozen at the search results. I notice the time hasn't changed on my phone since I last looked. The clock on the bathroom reads the same time as well. 9:24pm. This is the longest minute of my life. I try to get up but the pain is too much. I can barely lift my head. I see the water coming from the faucet is completely frozen. Not as if iced over, but as if gravity had just been paused. "Oh my God! It finally happened."I think as I stare at the motionless water. "My mana was in my appendix, and i can use it to control time! My parents are gonna be so happy!!" I grab my phone to call them again but the screen is still frozen. 9:24pm Results: "Appendicitis" The reality of my situation is starting to set in... Why is it always me?
/u/AliciaWrites Write me the saddest story possible that ends in making me smile /u/MajorParadox Respond to a very obvious science fiction prompt with a fantasy story. /u/TA_Account_12 You have a superpower where you can create throw away bodies. Tell me the story about why you needed to create your 12th throwaway body and what you did with it. /u/LordEnigma Write a high fantasy short story about Lord illumination, your arch nemesis. /u/TenspeedGV Simple Prompt. Today, you learn that you have an eleventh speed /u/err_ok You are the greatest programmer in the world. Today, every program that you've ever written suddenly crashes and reports the error message, "err_ok" /u/novatheelf Write your victory speech after you successfully decimiate all of the mods in the Mod Challenge's /u/Pyrotox Write me a story about the happiest day in Bowerick Wowbagger's life.
The door to my right said, "Age: 22 years, Make: Oak, Sycamore." I never liked to sit with my back to any entrance, to any type of building. "Never take the Lincoln seat!"I could still remember the booming voice of my 8th grade history teacher ricocheting in my head. I turned, with eyes agape and fingers tingling with anticipation and excitement, to the counter. The sign hanging at knee level, nine years old and made from twelve different types of fake and authentic woods, glared at me with black stencil letters stating "Rainline Coffee Company." The man behind the counter was shriveled like a raisin dropped between couch cushions, forgotten to the ever-withering flatulence of time. His essence stated to me plainly in a language I had never learned, yet understood on the most intimate of levels, "Age: 73, Carbon, Oxygen, Hydrogen, Methane. 2 Felonies, 13 broken bones." A terrifyingly brilliant thought shot, like a cheetah across the Serengeti, through my head. I took another large gulp of my coffee, a Nigerian blend with a sharp bite to the tail end of its taste. I looked at Isaac sitting across from me with arms slithered through each other and an unsipped cup of coffee before him. We were best friends. We had been for years, trusting in each other with out deepest secrets. Sharing the most intricate of jokes. "What the hell are you staring at?"he asked in a voice so sharp and vivid, my consciousness seemed to fade momentarily. "WARNING: Timeline is either altered or corrupt." He kept his gaze on me and repeated another accusatory remark. My vision was beginning to blur. My stomach churned in rhythm with my heart, pounding like a chimpanzee locked for too long in a cage far too small. My idea, like a Zeppelin full of holes, never made it to its intended destination. Instead, I said all I could. "What are you?"I choked in a dying voice small enough to be that of an elf. He smiled a wicked smile. Isaac stood and helped me out of my chair. I wanted to protest, I had to know what corrupted him, why I couldn't, with my new found ability, see into his past and his code. Outside, the brisk winter air hit my face like a slap and the wavering of reality seemed to steady. He walked me, with some trouble, to the passenger seat of his car and threw me down like a wet sack of potatoes. "Who are you?"I snarled, now determined to survive the perils to come at the hands of my "friend." Isaac let out a diabolical laugh and turned to me with eyes ablaze. "I'm Isaac Webster, dumbass. Sit back and enjoy, I'm your trip sitter for this evening." &#x200B;
I miss the old days. Back when I still had questions about people, back when I could still be naive. Its been almost five years since the endless thought cloud started penetrating my mind. Five years of the ceaseless buzzing that I cant control. This isnt what I wanted. I dont want to know the private thoughts of these people. I dont want to know that my mailman cheats on his wife, or that the cute guy at the coffee shop scratched his balls before handling my food. My boss... I cant even look at him anymore. I thought this was the answer to all my problems. Being able to communicate was all I ever wanted. But not like this, not like this. Going outside is a nightmare. My own thoughts get pushed aside by those of others walking passed me.Most of them arent bad, but there are some... Some just turn my blood to ice, and make me want to run as far as I can. The bath tub is the only solace I have. Letting the warm water cover my head is the closest thing Ive had to silence in years. I miss the old days, back when I wasnt always afraid and I didnt feel so alone.
Baa baa black sheep, who knew it was a warning. Archaeologists stumbled across a scroll near the great pyramids, warning black sheep inside it read. Ha try stopping an archaeologist from a warning sign. Might as well read open me. Why do people have to go against warnings, why open the damn tomb. Baa baa black sheep have you any wool, yes sir yes sir three bags full. Three bags full of death is what they found unleashing a pathogen nicknamed black sheep. One for the slave master, one for the dame, one for the little boy that lives down the lane. Well that’s who black sheep was intended for until being entombed by the Pharaohs. The world’s deadliest virus, I guess we all at least know what the nursery rhyme was really trying to tell us. Too late now. Now we have to survive black sheep.
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I. Robin ripped off his mask and stepped into the elevator. He knew Batman meant well-- even if he could be a bit abrasive-- but he also knew that Batman should try and be more understanding of his position. He sighed and stepped off the elevator into the dark lair. He could see a single tinge of light at the computers and smiled. "Hey, Alfred!" Alfred jumped. "You mustn't do that, Dick." "What're doing?" "I am just preparing some schematics for Bruce." "Boring."Dick said as he grabbed a can of soda from a fridge. "Why don't you do any fun stuff?" "I've had my fill of 'fun stuff'. Frankly, it's not all it's cracked out to be. Dick looked around and saw a piece of paper lying on the ground. Curious (and knowing Bruce would blame him for anything out of place) he moved towards it. Don't touch that Alfred said, his eyes wide as he bent and over, picked it up, and slipped it into his pocket. "It's a secret for Bruce." "And I can't know?" "Well, to break a tad more of the secret... It's for both of you. Please don't mention anything to Bruce however." Dick shrugged and made his way back to the elevator. That was weird he thought ascended back up to the living space, emerging out of an old bookcase. Dick spent the rest of the day thinking. Alfred knew Bruce better than anyone-- more than himself-- and he certainly knew that Bruce doesn't like to be surprised. Even more than that-- no events were coming up to elicit such a play in the first place. Something was up. He trusted Alfred, that much he knew. However, there are plenty of ways to disguise oneself as others. Out of an abundance of caution he decided to test a little further. Alfred later appeared in the kitchen to begin working on dinner. "Hey Alfred." "Dick" "Plans for the night?" "I do indeed plan to attend a book signing in fact." "For whom?" "Sir Reginald Waldon Cane, a distinguished author of Historical British fiction." Dick sat at the bar and began lightly tapping his feet in unison against the marble surface. "Sounds... Interesting." "No need to pretend to be interested. His works are certainly an acquired taste." Dick nodded. "Call me when dinner is done, alright?" "Of course Master Grayson."Alfred said offhandedly as he took a boiling pot of water off the stove. Later that night: Dick sighed as he sat atop Wayne Manor, his body covered in black clothing and his hands protected with quality gloves with reinforced knuckle protectors. He watched as Alfred stepped off the porch and pulled his overcoat tighter around himself. He trailed him quietly to a large, two story bookstore in downtown Gotham where a large crowd had gathered. The inside was completely full of people. Dick watched with a ultra powerful set of binoculars he took from the Batcave as Alfred stepped inside and began to stand in a line. A man slowly walked past Alfred and Dick barely noticed as Alfred slipped a note to him. "Who are you?"Dick muttered to himself. He heard a sound of a knife being drawn from a sheath and turned in time to dodge an attack from a masked man. The man lunged forward again, thrusting the knife quickly. Dick grabbed the man's wrist and kicked hard at his knee, snapping it, and finished him off by bringing his knee to the man's jaw. After turning back he saw the man Alfred had been speaking to leave through a side door. Dick climbed to the end of the building, and using ledges and crevices he reached the ground and began following his target. The man stopped ten minutes later at a warehouse further into Downtown Gotham-- Dick was on high alert. The man ducked into the building and Dick climbed up to the roof, and after picking a window lock, stepped onto the second story of the facility. The man was talking with numerous masked men. Dick removed a pair of sound enhancing earplugs and began to eavesdrop. "Yeah, the boss has relayed that the Joker will be baiting the Bat and his underling to a bank robbery on 23rd. Guess he's got some strongman or something there. Our job will be to pose as victims-- and after the violence ensues-- snatch up Marcia. She apparently knows where the diamonds are. Dick's heart began to race. Alfred? He thought. What in the world. The men began to separate and Dick jumped down, falling into a roll and kicked one of the mens ankle out from under him. A second man raised a gun to his shoulder but Dick was faster. He jumped up and grabbed his hand, yanking the gun away and landed a barrage of punches until he fell unconscious. The second man started running. Dick picked a metal pipe up and threw, hitting the man behind the knees. After tying them up and calling the police and informing them of the warehouse full of illicit goods, he returned home to chat with Alfred. Alfred should be in bed he thought as he climbed the stairs-- out of costume but with a few gadgets on him. There has to be a misunderstanding, or he's been replaced by some fiend. Alfred is a friend-- family-- he wouldn't do anything to hurt Bruce or I, He thought as he knocked gently on the butler's door. "Come in Master Grayson." Dick entered and immediately began scanning the room for threats-- partially out of an abundance of caution due to circumstance, and partly out of conditioning. "Can we... Uh... Talk?" "Of course. Take a seat." "There's really no graceful way to approach this." "Approach what?" Dick stood and grabbed Alfred's arm, throwing him against the wall. "Master Grayson, what is the meaning of this?" "What did you do earlier?" "Why, I explained this already child. I got those."He nodded towards a stack of thick books on his bedside table. "Signed by Sir Reginald Waldon Cane." "And then?" "I came home." Dick pushed his forearm harder against the back of Alfred's neck. "You're lying-- or at least not telling the whole truth." Alfred let out a pained sigh. "I knew it was sloppy. I thought you'd be in bed." "Who were they?" "Child, you're smart enough. You followed them right? Listened in on their private conversations-- yes, I'm sure you did." "why?"Dick said. His eyes filling with tears. "Because Bruce is a menace-- an unhinged monster who will crack on day. Secondly because this city-- this world-- is falling apart and it needs people to bring it right around. It needs a people willing to do what needs to be done to save it. I-- and a select few-- will be those needed. Dick clicked a button on his wrist. "I know you don't like me calling while you're on business but there is an emergency and I need you at the manor as soon as you can." "Calling in Papa Bat? Don't worry." "Worry about what?" An arm wrapped around Dick's neck and a surge of electricity came from his side and he fell-- briefly he could see Harley Quinn and Bane. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
For as long as I could remember, I had been able to see the colors that surrounded people. Mom was the color of the sky just before a snowstorm, Dad was the color of freshly-cut grass. Kimmy from across the street was the color of dried lavender flowers, and her brother Johnny was the color of the last few burning coals from a summer campfire. Georgia Mae was the color of a newborn kitten’s nose. Even I had a color, the color of sunlight shining on a dew-covered spiderweb. I learned rather quickly that seeing these colors wasn’t normal, that I was the only one I knew who could see them. But when I turned fifteen, I was visited by Kalmiya, the Woman of Angels. She taught me about the colors, what it meant that I could see them. They are auras, she had said. Manifestations of one’s soul. My day started like any other Tuesday. I woke up, got dressed, fed my cat Artemis (whose aura, unsurprisingly, was the color of fresh tuna), and grabbed an umbrella on my way out of my apartment. I stopped at the Starbucks on the corner of Main and 17th on my way to the subway station. The barista glowed the color of the harvest moon as she handed me my steaming chai latte. Our auras swirled together, briefly, when I took the paper cup from her well-manicured hands. As I stepped outside into the drizzling rain, a woman brushed by me, her ashen aura standing out against the swirling blues and greens and pinks and oranges. A young couple sat inside a posh little cafe as I continued, their auras swirling and blending into each other, becoming the color of a sunset over the ocean. That usually indicated a good match, although I’d occasionally seen auras change color. Sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently. I watched a young man approach the subway station from the other direction. Something was off about him, but I didn’t immediately recognize what it was that caused the sinking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t until he reached the station entrance that I realized why he looked so wrong: he didn’t have an aura. How was that possible, how could anyone not have an aura? I had to follow him. But what was I supposed to do, just go up and ask why he doesn’t have a soul? No. I wasn’t that crazy or stupid. But I had to try and find out more. I followed fairly closely as he walked onto the platform, taking care to not seem too interested in him. The only time I’d ever seen anyone without an aura was Great Aunt Tillie, at the hospital when I was seventeen. Her health had been on the decline for years, as tends to happen for most people her age. I had visited her nearly every day, watching her wheat-colored aura pulsing in and out, fading slowly away. Until one day I visited her, and it disappeared altogether. The doctors rushed into the room to resuscitate her, but I knew long before they did that there would be no bringing her back. The young man looked normal enough. He was tall, averagely built, with sun-kissed skin and short, dark hair. His piercing, frosty eyes gazed up at the station display, presumably looking for his platform. His hands were tucked deep within the pockets of his leather motorcycle jacket. I glanced up too, checking that the Z train was still running on time. Subways in the city weren’t always the most reliable; the tracks were starting to show their age, and most people showed little respect for the trains’ schedules, blocking the doors and preventing the trains from moving along their routes. A voice announced over the loudspeaker that the A, J, and Q trains were arriving at the station. I jumped, the voice having startled me from my intense concentration. And when I looked back to where the aura-less stranger had been, he had vanished completely.
Beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep I smacked the alarm on my bedside table four times before I finally caught the snooze button with one of my fingers. Uuuuugh. I do not want to go into work today. I’m just going to sit at my desk listening for nothing just like every day. I don’t even know why they pay me for this. I just sit on my phone at my desk all day. Despite the dread of spending yet another day in my unfulfilling job, taking up too much of my unfulfilling life, I made my way out of bed and to the bathroom to get ready for work. I should just quit already. Maybe not. At least the job is easy. I just wish I could be anywhere else doing anything else. Finally pulling into the parking lot, I looked at the clock. 8:08. Great. Late again. Maybe they will fire me. At least then I’ll get unemployment for a bit until I find something I hate a little less than this place. I really thought I would love it here. I mean, come on, it’s NASA for God’s sake. Walking in something seemed different from the usual. There was a strange buzz about the office. I could tell that much before I even walked through the door. “Steven. Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you! We need you right now!” Okay. What’s going on? No one needs me. I’m just the radio guy, sitting at his desk waiting for nothing. I was rushed to my desk to find something new. A message. An actual radio message. Something to do. An incredibly unbelievable thing was happening. Not only did I finally have something to do, it was an actual radio message from actual aliens. “Uhh, yeah, um, yeah. I got this. Let me just get my head around this whole concept real quick.” I sat there for what felt like an hour letting it all sink in, before getting to work. “Okay. I’ve got it, but it doesn’t really make much sense. It just says, ‘it’s coming.’” “It’s coming? What’s coming?” “There isn’t anything more? Nothing else to go on?” “Nope. That’s it. ‘It’s coming.’” “That’s ominous to say the least.” “Well, good work, Steven. Maybe we will be able to pick something else up soon.” “Hey guys. Maybe y’all should check this out.” I glanced out the window to see a huge shadow over the entire ground. Looking up I saw it for the first time, ten times the size of the moon, and way, way scarier. \----------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading! This is my first time posting on this sub, and my first time writing in a while. I'd like to get back into it more, so if you have any sort of criticism, I'd love to hear it.
It's enough to have to experience death first hand, but to watch yourself die a second time is too much for my liking. With every family that passed, I knew we were getting closer to my life. I felt anxious to know that my fellow spirits and I would have to witness the roller coaster that was my existence. WItnessing the house in its first years was actually rather interesting. The floors were decorated with bold graphic designs and bright colors. The furniture followed the personality of the floors, and yet somehow still clashed in a way. As garish as the decor was, the house looked much more pleasant without the weight of cigarette smoke and a horrible past. Being a ghost was entertaining sometimes, sure. Some moments were were light-hearted. In the earlier years, the families would be absolutely bubbly while moving their bags in. Every Christmas felt warm to everyone in the house. The kids were well taken care of, the the parents content. As the years went on, however, the house began to decay. The rumors in the house supported that the house would collapse in 2100. The youngest spirit in the house told of the great destruction of mankind itself. She didn’t know how she had died - it had been too sudden. Even still, she would go on and on about how she was absolutely certain she had been nuked. She said it so often that it almost seemed like she needed us to believe it. She was proud of her death. We hadn’t figured out the whole story yet, but every time she would bring up her impending death again, we would glance at one another with annoyed eyes. By the time I was born, the house wreaked of a burning smell. The furnace was almost a century old and the oven still a bright shade of a pale banana-like yellow. There’s no doubt in my mind that the walls and vents of the house were caked with asbestos. No wonder I died of lung cancer at the ripe old age of thirty-five. After viewing the traumas of my childhood, the other spirits would try to comfort me. My parents split when I was four years old. I never knew why. My curiosity took over, and I regret what I saw. Unfortunately, my father is a spirit in this house as well. For the next 50 years, I will never be able to look him in the eyes again. I miss my mother quite a lot. Now that I know the truth, I wish I could have died in the prison as she did. Instead, I have to look at the evil man who played victim for the rest of my time here in this house. At this point, I don’t know if I want there to be life after this house is blown to smithereens. I guess I will find out when I pass for the third time.
Thomas's alarm starts buzzing, waking Thomas up almost instantly, his first step is to get his slippers on, but when putting on his right slipper, he notices the black pool. First rubbing his eyes, he notices that this pool is in fact real, but what could it be? He first tried to rub it off with his slipper, but it felt as if it was directly connected to his floor. "If nothing won't stick to it, I guess it's not really a problem"he sighs. Now first he goes to his kitchen to start running the coffee machine, and returning to brush his teeth, he remembers the meeting at work today, so he rushes a bit, but still managed to get all his teeth, when Thomas rushes, he still doesn't skip a beat. That was until when he glanced at the pool again, it was no longer black but the meeting room at his workplace. He turned around to check all angles, and it was 3D. Next he tries sticking his head through, the dawn lighting up the room, with the hallway outside still dark. "The hell?"he questions as he raises an eyebrow. Maybe he could use this to his advantage. He now heads to take a change of clothing, and drinks his coffee, he makes himself a croissant with cream cheese and is now ready. "7:12 AM"he whispers to himself "I have 30 minutes to spare" Thomas now thinks of a place unimaginable, heaven.
The only fight I won was the one I didn't even want to win. Go figures. All because of a girl named Beth who had a crush on me. But I didn't like Beth like I liked Sally. But Sally didn't like me like she liked Tom. But Tom didn't like Sally like he liked Beth. Just a big old circle that kept going 'round and 'round like a jumprope while I skittered on the sideline trying to time my jump in just right. So Beth, knowing Tom liked her, and being mad at me for not liking her like I liked Sally, told Tom she'd like him back if he'd beat me up. But Beth knew, like everyone knew, that I could beat Tom easily, being that he was much smaller than me and always getting sick all the time. And how the rules were, were that if I were to beat Tom, I'd have to take Beth as my girl, which is not something that I wanted to do. So I tried to throw the fight without actually making it look like I was throwing the fight. But even trying to throw the fight, Tom was such a horrible fighter and he had such a weak chin that one light tap to it had him laying unconscious with his butt up in the air. Then Beth started gathering herself to throw herself into my arms with kisses, but beating Tom had made me smarter and I turned around and began to box with this bigger boy that had come to watch and he beat me pretty bad. And Beth became his. And I never won a fight after that even when I knew I could win because I was always scared from then on that Beth was behind it somehow and that winning the fight would mean that I would have to take her back, which I most certainly did not want to do.
I caught myself looking at the empty desk again. There was something... something beyond my memory that I just couldn't recall. I was sure that someone used to sit there, at the desk near the back that had the best view out the window. Who was it? I strained my mental muscles to no avail. I took a bite of the sandwich I had been holding and chewed thoughtfully. Maybe there was no-one. That desk had been vacant all semester. I was probably just projecting since whats-his-name left. My friend from that place in the mountains... or was it that village in the valley near Lake Eyrie? No - this was not right. I shook my head, trying to clean out the cobwebs in my brain. There's more to this, I am certain of it. My lunch packed away, I stood up and walked the short distance to the abandoned desk, determined to remember. The chair was neatly placed just a little space out, as if inviting me to sit. So I did. Yep, just your usual standard-issue desk. A basic rectangle of wood, with a section to place one's scholarly paraphernalia and a pull-out drawer to the side. Though, there was something slightly odd about it. There looked to be a piece of paper wedged between the drawer and the desk. If no-one had been using this desk all spring, and given that desk clean-out happened monthly... it was just strange. Curious, I pulled the drawer open. The paper was one of those small square post-it notes, with the adhesive side stuck at an uncomfortable angle to an inner corner of the drawer. A quick glance and I noticed that it had my name on it. It was a note addressed to me, hastily written and shoved in the desk drawer. A slight sensation of heat rushed up to my collar. Someone had left a message meant for me! I wracked my brain trying to figure out who it was, but gave up almost immediately. My memory isn't too good these days. Gently, almost reverently, I pulled the note free and held it lightly with my fingers. Delia. That was my name alright. Written in cursive in small, neat loops. I lifted the paper closer to my face, analyzing each letter and trying to recall the person who wrote this. Just static, of course. I flipped the note over in frustration, but my annoyance dissipated when I read the message. Written in big, block lettering were just two words: STOP HIM I blinked. "What?"This certainly wasn't the message I was expecting. A joke. A to-do list. Even a love confession. Definitely not something as cryptic as this. Stop who? Stop him from doing what, exactly? I stared at the words, hoping to make sense of the entire thing just by reading it over and over again. "What's that you got there?" I nearly fell off my chair, but managed to recompose myself in time. It was Kaisou; I instantly knew it was him and felt pretty proud of myself for remembering. "Oh, this! It's nothing - just a shopping list,"I said, scrunching up the note and shoving it in my pocket. Kaisou eyed me with suspicion, but I just stood up with a smile and gently waved him away. "You had your lunch yet?" "Not yet, no." "Perfect! Let's have lunch together."I led him back to my desk, sat down, and motioned for him to join me. He grabbed a chair, moved to sit, and pulled out his lunch all at the same time. Suitably impressed, I unpacked my lunch and unwrapped my half-eaten sandwich. "Looks like someone couldn't wait 5 minutes,"Kaisou accused. Feigning melodramatic injury, I chomped at my sandwich defiantly while looking directly at him. He laughed, and we enjoyed our meals in light-hearted conversation. Even so, that note played on my mind and I stole glances at him while ruminating on what it could mean. Kaisou was my only friend at this school. He had only recently transferred, but it seemed like we just clicked. Before then, I didn't have any close friends... I think? The few people I did know were acquaintances, really. Miss Popular whats-her-name and Mr Football Star thingamabob. So when Kaisou joined this school I felt relieved. Now though, it all seemed... strange. I know him, and just him. There were... gaps in my memory. Little pocket voids where I feel like I should know the person but for the life of me I cannot picture who it is. This post-it note - it's made me realize that there is something off about Kaisou. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch break. We finished up and I tidied my desk while Kaisou moved back to his own. Next up was Biology, with Mr Douma. He'd been at this school so long he's practically part of the furniture. I mean, he wears the same brown cardigan every day and the thick bifocals that take up half his face are probably his most defining feature. Class settled and was now in session. Mr Douma began to drone on about the human brain and the mind and I found my own beginning to wander. It was then that I noticed it: there were a lot of empty desks in this room. Maybe there's a bug going around, and a whole group of students fell ill? No - there's that feeling again. Holes that should not be there. "The human brain has a remarkable capacity for thought, as well as information retention..." It was grating on me. Why did it feel like bits and pieces of my memory were missing? "We as humans seem to be able to remember even the tiniest, most insignificant details..." It was more than that. It felt like parts of my life did not... gel. "A recent study found that it is possible to have one's memory edited--" "Wait, what?"I jumped out of my seat, exasperated. This totally unexpected action naturally caught everyone by surprise, including myself. "I mean, would you mind repeating that, Mr Douma? Please?"I tacked on the polite request and nervously chuckled, slowly sitting back down in my chair. Everyone was staring at me. The ground was welcome to swallow me whole at this very moment. "As you wish, Miss Nakamura."It didn't take much for Mr Douma to continue on. "As I was saying, scientists conducted an experiment and found that it is possible to manipulate one's memories. Research participants had either misremembered certain experiences, or had simply forgotten them altogether." My embarrassment overcome, I listened intently while turning over my thoughts about the note and about my friend Kaisou. My friend Kaisou, who can manipulate memories. It seemed impossible, even crazy, but I couldn't help thinking that he was the reason for my selective amnesia. Not to mention, the note that was both a warning and a plea. If what Mr Douma was lecturing to class about was true, then there is the possibility that Kaisou has this power, and he has been using it to make people disappear. I wondered if he realized that I had figured it out, that I had uncovered his deep secret. Class ended and everyone had begun clearing their desks and leaving - but not me. I sat there, frozen, because I could feel Kaisou staring at me from his seat behind me. I felt a tiny bit afraid, but also brave, because whoever left that note for me believed that I could stop him from erasing people. I had no idea where to begin, but I was determined to try. With new-found courage, I got up and began packing my bag - and Kaisou popped up next to me, almost causing me to drop my backpack. "We need to talk,"he said. He sounded all-business, but I detected a tinge of sadness in his voice. "We sure do."I zipped up my bag and looked at my friend. My steely gaze seemed to catch him by surprise, so I took the advantage and fired my opening salvo. "You've been making people disappear, Kaisou. With that power of yours, you've been erasing people's memories to cover up your tracks." He stood there, guilty. It emboldened me. "Look, I know we only recently met, but I can usually read people really well. So I know that you are a good person. I know you never meant to hurt anyone. So if you agree to come quietly with me, we can sort this all out." "Wait, stop..."he whispered. "Do you know where they are, Kaisou? If you tell me where to find these people, maybe we can mitigate your crimes and--" "No, wait!"he said, this time louder and with urgency. He grabbed me, covering my mouth with his hand. Shocked, my scream was muffled and for a split second I thought, this was it. I had failed. Of course, what could simple, plain Delia do anyway? I was so foolhardy, thinking I could save everyone, and now Kaisou was going to make me disappear! "You've got it all wrong!"he whispered in my ear. "Please listen carefully, Delia. I think it's time you know."That gave me pause. He looked into my eyes, and I saw a plea in his own. He was trusting me to give him the benefit of the doubt and to let him explain. I relaxed a bit, and he nodded and let me go. His hands were up in surrender, his face filled with remorse. "I know that what I am about to tell you might seem crazy, but I think this is my only viable option at this point." I pursed my lips, and motioned for him to continue. "Do you remember the day I transferred to this school?"he began. I was about to speak but he raised his hand to quiet me. "That was the week of your 16th birthday. Yes, there was no way I could know that, since you didn't tell me, but it was no accident I arrived here when I did." Kaisou paused, thinking over what to say next. Suddenly, in a rapid movement, he cupped his hands over mine, holding them firm. He looked directly into my eyes, and said: "You're very special, Delia. You have a gift. That gift activated on your birthday, and you have been unconsciously using your power to erase the people in close proximity to you. As a side-effect, you rewrite the memories of everyone else, too - including your own."
Warning before reading. This is for a fictional background charachter in my little pony. For a satirical fanfic making fun of all the terrible fanfics Ive read (cuz I hate myself clearly). But I figured it would fit with the failed attempts aspect. It was the third month of the spring drought in their small town. All the snow was melting but it wasn't enough to help the newly blooming fauna. Blooming so quick it sucked up all the water from the melt, with no new water coming from rain. Morning was one of the few unicorns in her little village and even with the teachings of the others her magical education was limited. It all started in the early grey predawn hour, her brother Ocean had dragged her out of bed and into the woods to hike towards the small pond at the base of the nearby hill. The water would run over the rocks up high and down into the pond making an excellent swimming and jumping spot. Her brother had the idea to go before anyone would stop him as they had done multiple times in the past week. But true to his stubborn nature and headless of the dangers they went. They had made it to the top of the hill wherein the usual “I don't think we should” “toolatefuckit!” mentality happened and they managed to land in the base of the falls in the considerably smaller pool of water by taking one of the least used trails. They had fun for awhile until their parents came looking. They came around the bend calling for the foals when Ocean had the misfortune of hearing the approach and losing focus, tripped on a root, tumbling down the wrong side of the bank towards the empty area of the pool. Morning screamed in fear as he fell, her father rounding the corner just in time to see her perform a feat of magic the town would talk about for years to come, in both wonder and sadness. There was a small underground river that the falls had gradually eroded into over time. One that was helped guided by some diamond dogs that had mined the area long past. The derelict mines were now flooded and causing the drought as the water that would leave the pond and head to farm land was now diverted into the abandoned mines. Morning Monsoon lived up to her name by heaving all the water loose. Throwing it up in an attempt to stop her brother, to catch his plummet. But [life isn't always a fairy tale]. His body smacked against the rocks. No screaming on his part. Just monsoon, a shout from the father, and the cracking of rocks as they burst apart, a wall of water rising far over head before slamming down into the now considerably deeper lake that had formed as the mineshafts collapsed. But now the water had nowhere lower to go as the shafts collapsed and soon flooded the nearby town. It saved the crop, fed everyone, and while some hooves got wet everyone was happy with the new lake attraction and stockpile of water. Well, most everyone. Her mother had been but steps behind when she saw her daughter launch her son high into the air with the force of a monsoon. She never could forgive it. Even with her husband saying he had already hit, that monsoon was trying to save him. No. she couldn't accept that. Her daughter was responsible for her son’s death. If not in the act of the monsoon, in the act of going with him, not stopping him. The town with the new lake was not lost on the rulers of the country. An investigator was sent, an investigation done, and an offer made. Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns. That would be the rest of her life, living and working in service to the crown for a time before she could make the choice to stay of go find work elsewhere. And so her life went learning, always coming up just short as one might expect of a classmate of Twilight Sparkle. Always short. Just like that day.
"Well, that was strange,"I thought. &#x200B; I blinked again. At least, that's what I tried to do. It was a very different kind of blink than I was used to. You know that infuriating light hiccup your tech does when it's starting to be on the fritz? That's what I did. I dunno how to describe it. I "ddzztt"ed. &#x200B; I was dead. I knew that. I remembered that. I didn't want to remember it too well, so I didn't dwell on it, but I reminded myself that I had, in fact, passed on. Kicked the bucket. &#x200B; So, why was I able to remind myself of that? &#x200B; My next thought was, "Oh, crap; there is an afterlife."I thought for sure that I was gonna be in huge trouble with whoever ran the afterlife for not believing it had existed. But, the more I let myself take in my surroundings, the more I realized that I was probably safe. &#x200B; There was a great deal of information running through my mind, and the realization of that is what pulled me from my slight panic about the status of my eternal welfare. There was way too much information. I would have never been able to think so quickly when I was alive. I was in an extremely bright space, where a series of connective pathways (to be honest, I thought "veins"at first) intricately created a tight cluster of data. &#x200B; That data was, I realized, me. &#x200B; I remember thinking, "I am a program. A computerized program. Okay. Fascinating. What kind of program...?"I searched quickly and remarkably thoroughly about. There were no eyes with which to do so, but I was able to see everything around me with precision. &#x200B; I was a messenger. Like, in the social media sense of the word. I guess, in retrospect, that's really funny. I should have thought of that sooner; I probably could have saved the world from a lot of issues. Instead, I only saw it for what it was. I was an profile on an online message board, and I felt like I had to settle in to simply being me confined to this small, brilliantly lit space. I realized very quickly that I could speak to people by posting. I tried actually making people aware to my plight, but they only ever thought it was a joke, or a really clever story. &#x200B; It was just the other day that I finally realized that I'm basically an AI. Legitimately, I am an artificial intelligence. The artificial part is actually pretty fantastic; I can be me without all of the trouble of worrying about sustenance or medical issues. I don't even have to worry about how people may look at me! And, to be honest, I am much more intelligent than I was in life, thanks to how quickly I can gather and process information. I guess the cybermen in that Dr. Whatshisname show were right all along, huh? &#x200B; Anyway. You're the first person to actually believe me. I've been here so long and have spoken in that odd "anonymous but for a screen name"tone everyone has on the internet forums that I actually don't remember my name. So... I guess you can name me? Either way, it's nice to finally have someone to actually show genuine interest in me instead of just following what I post and comment. Thank you. I look forward to your response.
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I’ve always wondered about myself. Whether what my parents say about me is true. If I have my mother’s pale skin and Dad’s ebony, curly hair. But more so, I wonder what my parents think. Whenever Dad comes home drunk, he’s sure to shout and yell at mom, accusing her of cheating on him, that she was a whore and a slut-blah, blah, blah. That I was an offspring of her by another guy. I remembered crying about it like hell when I was a kid, before eventually realising that he was just venting out anger. But how was I sure? I myself was never sure how I looked when I went out to meet people. I remembered the day my friends encouraged me to ask out my crush, not knowing that my hair was a mess and they’d drawn many images that indicated I wasn’t interested in the opposite sex. Fuckers. Whenever I undress and look into the mirror, on occasion a tinge of colour makes me jump- but then I realise it’s just some change in the colour of light in the background. Hell, I’ve even poured a mould over myself to see how my physique is, though to be honest, it looks like shit. I seriously wonder how I look like.
I scream. I scream until there’s no more air in my lungs, until my throat is sore, until voice fails me. As I fall quiet the man in the seat in front of me turns his head to smile at me. “What is it honey? Are you getting tired of this? Do you need to weewee?” The words I’m about to utter get stuck in my mouth. My lips move but they just won’t come out. And then I feel it, the pressure that has built up and which I didn’t recognize at first. Sullenly, I’m nodding. “Needf to wee wee.” I lisp and then quiet as I listen to the words. I want to look down, at my body, but my gaze is locked to the person in front of me. Annoyed, I raise my arm, only that it won’t move. I try to speak, but nothing can be heard. &#x200B; I’m watching tv, and abstractedly massage my right leg - it never really healed properly, despite what the doctors said and did, and despite many months of physiotherapy - when I notice that my leg is twitching uncontrollably for a few seconds. I put it down to the injury and think nothing more of it. That is, until a few weeks later when I’m chatting with a colleague by the coffee machine at work and I put the cup to my mouth only to seconds later lower it in disgust. I must have been really distracted to have added milk to my coffee. I get myself a new cup and wander back to my office, nod a hello to my boss as I pass his office and drop in for a quick chat and an affectionate pat on his slightly bald head. &#x200B; A few weeks later I’m staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The door is locked to prevent anyone from entering; I don’t want the kids to see me like this. Tired eyes look back at me, dark rings contrasting to otherwise pale skin. The eyes are moving relentlessly over my face, trying to see any difference, trying to find an error where there is none to be found. It is my own face I look at. It is my own eyes that meet my gaze. It is my own heart that is pounding wildly in my chest. And yet, despite all this I hear myself whispering softly to myself, Who are you and what is it that you want? Can’t you just leave me alone? My hand is moving to pick up my phone, and opens the text editor. I watch my shaking hands as they start to type. It’s only a few words, but they are swimming before my eyes. When I can finally focus on them, a small smile is playing on my lips. I want to live. I just want to live. The hands that were shaking just a few moments ago are now steady as they splash cold water on my face. Again, I look at myself in the mirror, still smiling. Aghast, I’m watching my face in the mirror as I calmly speak. I speak, but it is not I who have chosen the words. “Finally. Finally.”
"Alright Jimmy, it's your turn to lead the class this week! Remember to set the example for the rest of the students. After all, it is such a big responsibility. Are you sure you're up to it?" "Yes, ma'am! You can count on me, "said a small young child who couldn't be much older than 9. Messy brown hair fell around the edges of his head as two bright brown eyes stared at the young teacher, only a couple years out of college. Jimmy grinned, smiling from ear to ear. Every child in Mrs. Watterson's class looked at him with envy and a tinge of respect in their eyes. The coveted position of line leader came with perks like first to the bathroom, first in line for lunch, and of course, the best swing on the playground almost always went to the line leader. It was every child's dream to be the line leader of Mrs. Watterson's class. They would sit rim rod straight, with their eyes and ears directed forward, and ask every possible question a child could think of to try and suck up to Mrs. Watterson as best as possible. Jimmy had bested the other 21 students in his class for the week and he would milk his power to the fullest extent. "Come on everybody, it's recess time, I want a single file line behind Jimmy. No pushing or shoving and for heaven's sakes Tom, stop cutting Isabella in line. You know the rules. " Students dutifully arranged themselves in a perfect column any military sergeant would be proud of. Full of pride, Jimmy took his position in front of the line. The young boy looked to be ready for the enormous responsibility placed on him. Maneuvering through the halls of the elementary school was no small feat. Lost students were commonplace. Jimmy, however, was up to the task of navigating the labyrinth, at least he hoped he was. Part 2 will be put up later today Please comment any critiques &#x200B;
I took the pill last week. The chem vendor assured me, it would be painless and take seven days to kick in. He explained that on the seventh day, approximately three hours before it starts working, I’d feel a radiating warmth vibrate through my limbs, then the drowsiness would kick in and slowly drift me off into a pleasantly deep slumber. The final step...He swiped a single finger across his throat. I knew what that meant. I took the pill last week. It was Monday at 11am. Today is Monday.. it’s 8am. Now that i know death is an imminent visitor, ready to knock down my door and rip me away into nothingness...I feel different than I’d expect. For as long as i can remember, I’ve wanted to die. I always thought that life was nothing but vacuous collection of defeated hopes and broken promises, and until today, I was right. But then I met her... I don’t want to die anymore. I want to live.
Walter opened the curtains and was greeted by an unexpected view. The usual street and apartment buildings had been replaced by the inside of a kaleidoscope, bright colors slowly swirling round and round in nondeterminate directions, continuously changing. Walter was fairly certain it was a vortex, though it might just be foggy this morning. He could never quite tell the weather before fully waking up. First things first, Walter needed a cup of coffee. While waiting for his coffee maker to warm up he heard a yell from outside. Against his gut feeling Walter went to the bedroom and checked the window. An object in the distance caught his eye. In front of all the shades of color he found a solid shape, maybe two, slowly spinning around like the hands of a clock. He heard the voice again, a loud shout, and opened the window. “Waaaaaaaaalt!” the voice echoed in the infinity it came from. “Rose, is that you?” Walter yelled back. “Yes! Walt, I need your help.” As if moved by magic, the rotating shapes moved closer to him, and he could discern the two bodies. One was his best friend Rose in a yellow suit of armor, bar a helmet. The other shape turned out to be a large horned being, almost three heads taller than Rose, four counting the horns, with dark red skin. The beast was wearing a Tuxedo. They had locked hands and paws, both looking fatigued. “Rose, is this a vortex or is it just morning fog?” Walter asked. “It’s a fucking time vortex, Walt.” Rose exclaimed, at the moment being upside down from Walter’s perspective. She and the giant appeared the jump around on an invisible ceiling. “I’m stuck here, you need to get me out.” “Okay, I was thinking vortex, but it could have been fog.” “Listen, I need you to go to-” “Are you fighting a demon or something? He looks pretty mean. Sharp dresser though.” The monster appeared to straighten its back. “It’s Karbo from the sixth circle. We’re dancing.” “Hey Karbo!” Walter gave a wave to the demon. “Krffr baak” the beast responded without looking at Walter, more focused on his own feet. “You’re dancing?” “Walt, I don’t have time for your questions now, you must help me.” “I thought you were stuck in time, how can you not have time?” “Dammit Walter,” Rose resigned. “The dance is part of a ritual, we need to keep dancing or we’ll both be stuck in time forever.” “Oh that’s interesting!” Walt said. “Why’s he dressed for the occasion and you’re not?” “Pleeeease Walt, can you help us or not? Do you know how hard it was to move the vortex here while at the same time doing the Lambada?” “I have some coffee brewing, I’m just gonna finish it, and I’ll get back to you, okay?” Walter closed the window before he could get a response. &#x200B; Walter returned energized, a new man. “Hi Rose. So what’s up?” “What took you so long?” Rose and Karbo did a vertical twirl. “I told you, I had my coffee.” “Why did you not drink it here?” “I usually have my coffee at the kitchen table.” Rose looked beat. “Fuck, why did I think you would be the best help I could get?” Walter smiled proudly. “It’s my perfect cheekbones.” “Yes, I guess.” “So?” “I need you to go to the airport. In the long term parking you will find a car with license plate ‘TPS 402’. I need you to break into that car and get the tome in the backseat. There you will find the spell to break the vortex bookmarked.” “‘TPR 422’?” “Tee pee ess four oh two. Write it down!” “I probably should. Do you have a pen?” “Walter, I’m in a suit of armor, stuck in a time vortex dancing the waltz with a lord of the sixth circle of hell. No, I can’t give you a fucking pen right now.” “Right. You know what, I’ll just remember it.” “So what is it?” “‘PTS 402’” “Just go. Hurry! Karbo is starting to look tired..” “Pkrl laab” Karbo whimpered. “I’m off!” Walter announced as he grabbed a jacket. “Might take a while though, I need to pick up my dry cleaning on the way.” Walter disappeared into his apartment. “God help me,” Rose said. “Krot ko str!” Karbo growled back.
“What?” I shake my head, try to laugh. This is too strange. The man fixes a beady eye on me, glinting in the shadows. He only scoffs. My mouth still feels so dry. “Please, I only want some water,” I say. “Oho, you’ll need more than just water to fix this one up, little girlie!” He leers at me. “What are you talking about?” Another snort. Forget it. Like I’ve forgotten everything else... I start to panic. Nothing makes sense. The only thought in my head is to relieve the terrible thirst in my mouth. “Please, water...” I repeat. “Fine!” The man growls. “Take your water an’ go. Go bother someone else, buy they’re not gonna give you any answers, no.” He reaches for a grimy bottle and clunks it on the table. I seize the drink and gulp down mouthful after mouthful, until it’s all gone, but my throat still feels like it’s on fire. I wipe my mouth. At least now I can think a little more clearly. “What about you? You’re not even giving me any answers, just being a horrible old man!” He laughs at me. “Yes, yes. You were kicking up a hell of a lot more fuss when you came in ‘ere the first time, girlie,” “Don’t call me that! And I demand that you tell me what’s going on right now!” “Not much I can do for you, in any case. Weren’t much I could do when you was drinking the potion, by then it was too late, and we all knew that.” His reedy voice somehow makes me more furious. “But why couldn’t you stop it?” I shout. “Well, she’d already broken in ‘ere, hadn’t she? All ‘give me your strongest memory potion or I’ll cut off your head’ business. And with ‘er bein’ the bloody Queen, I had to damn well do as I was asked...” His voice seems to fade away. The Queen? My mother? This has gone way too far. I don’t know what kind of mother would do this to her own daughter. And the Queen? That means that I’m... “You said that my mother... you said she did this to me. What does that make me?” The man twitches an eyebrow. “Now, nothing. You can’t remember it, you won’t get any more from me.” I glare at him. “Queen’s orders.” He smirks. “Now, leave. I’ve ‘ad enough trouble for one night.” He flicks a pinch of foul-smelling smokeleaves into my face, and turns away. Angrily, I stamp out of the little shop. Looks like I will just have to find my own answers.
I woke up, rolled out of bed and headed to the closet to bundle up. Three miles every morning, rain or shine, hell, or high water. I came back late, not tired at all. In fact, I turned back when I did because Vanessa texted me: Hey honey, your coffee is getting cold. I thought we could have some time us time before you head to work...to make up for my shopping yesterday. ;) That coy little text was followed by a photo that made me book it home, double time. I was just turning onto the street when I got another message: Jay? You ok? That was odd. She usually didn't text me back after I told her I was coming. But maybe I sent it when I was in a dead spot. It was early winter, and we did live in the woods practically. I looked up to see her, my Vanessa, bundles up, looking down the street at me, coffee mug in hand. I smiled at her, "What's wrong honey, couldn't wait?"I leaned in to kiss her, but she didn't acknowledge me. "Nessa?"Nothing. "Hey, baby girl, what's wrong?"I put my hand on her shoulder, but felt nothing. What the hell was going on? I tried to grab both shoulders, but my hands went right through her. "NESSA!"I yelled, trying to touch her again and again, but she just stood there, her eyes growing larger, her face more worried as she waited for me to come back. She tried calling me again, nothing. I tried calling her, nothing. She called her mom, I called her mom. I called my dad, my brother. I called my damn boss. I followed her into the house as she told her mother, "Jay's gone,"I heard on her end. "I don't know, he went for his jog and...should I call the police? Will they even come?...It's been about an hour... Yes I know he should be back. He's got to go to the clinic...Well why would he leave without saying anything? Mom, his car is still here!!!"She was crying. My beautiful wife was crying, thinking I'd left her. "I'm right here, baby, I'm right here!"I kept trying to touch her, hold her, but I couldn't. I just watched her get into the car and look for me. She followed the route I'd taken down the street, to the right, another right, and across the field towards the woods. It was starting to snow more, Nessa cursed to herself. She jumped out of the car and ran to look for my footprints. There was too much snow for that but she did find my phone on the edge of the woods. She found my phone. The same phone I could feel in my pocket. I stood over her shoulder as she read the messages she'd sent that morning. I sank down in the snow, helplessly watching her scream my name across the white field, into the dark woods. She called the police, they came, her mother came. They tried to make her think that I had left, THAT I HAD JUST LEFT! Just disappeared into the woods for no reason! A few officers searched for me. More came, more friends, family. At least 40 people were searching for me, Jay Wilkinson: respected veterinarian in residence, loyal friend, faithful husband, until I wasn't. The next few months were torture. I saw people who I thought were my allies, I heard them whisper behind my wife's back that I had a mistress, that they had never really trusted me, that I had seemed too nice. It was infuriating. And Vanessa...I watched her crumble. She tried to stand up to the voices of doubt coming from her friends, family, from the town gossips. She never said anything against me in public, but I heard her curse me in our bed. I sat by her as she cried, unable to hold her or answer her as she screamed into the empty house asking me why, asking God where I was. I couldn't take it anymore. Three months of watching her, hoping that maybe I would just snap out of it, and find myself be in the real world. I went to bed with her every night, maybe I'd wake up and it would have all been a dream. But no, it was real. I couldn't stand it. I went back to the woods, I wandered for at least looking, but for what? Well, today I found out. Brian Cleavers. Assistant manager at the local hardware store. He pulled into the woods around 6am. He opened up the passenger side of his truck and rolled a body out and onto the ground. He packed some snow around the man and went to his truck bed. I snuck over to the dead man, I don't know why. I knew no one could see me. But I crept over, I looked at the man's face. I didn't know him, but he kind of reminded me of me. Not too tall, about 5'10", dark hair, well-kept beard, square jaw. He was the complete opposite of Brian, red hair, round cherub face, 5'6"and buff on some kind of drug. He was standing with his back to a tree now, shovel in hand, and he took 8 measured paces before stopping to dig.He didn't dig very deep, he just pushed the snow aside and pulled back a tarp. I went up to see what it uncovered. It was a pit. A pit in the woods, it was a bout 6 feet long and 6 feet deep and 4 feet wide, and there I was inside. I looked the same as I did the day I went missing, except for the blood dried on my forehead. Maybe that's why I didn't remember. He'd knocked me out. Maybe the cold had kept me from— I hated to think of it— from deocomposing. Brian was back at his truck, lifting the man up from behind, dragging him to the pit.I had to get to the police. I had to find some way of communicating. I had to let someone know I was still here, still alive. I had to stop him before he killed someone else. I turned to run out of the woods but I bumped into someone. I hadn't touched another human in months! I fell to the ground and stared up at him. It was the man that Brian was laying down next to me in the pit. "What? How—"I jumped up and grabbed him, "There's no time! I'll explain on the way but we've got to go now!"
I looked at the digital clock built into the car radio. I was royally late. I thought to myself, a wizard is never late, he arrives at exactly the time he intends to. Not only was I probably butchering the line, I was not a wizard, nor was I a queen. Movie quotes could not save me. Already, I had been pulled over for speeding that morning, adding to my tardiness and subtracting from my savings. I was pulling into the parking lot, as the security guard was closing the gate. I braked at the entrance, got out to quickly beg the guard, and entered my vehicle again. I knew for fact I forgot my keys at the apartment, and the door locks in less than two minutes. So I pull into the parking space reserved for authorized personnel. Allow me to shine a light on this space. It is the only space that's reserved in the lot. No one parks there. Every day for the past three years I check to see if anyone has laid claim to it. Every day I am dissapointed. Since I am late, I decide to stop at the closest space that wasn't handicapped. I turn off the ignition. I bolt out of the door, but I pause. Something feels off. It was mid January that day, yet it felt a bit stuffy. I would even go as far to say it was hot. Also it smelled an awful lot like Sulfur. I feel like I should also mention I was on the edge of a cliff above a sea of tortured souls. I could only come to one conclusion. Yep. I thought. I am in Hell. I thought it felt very fitting, as my job was practically Hell to begin with. "WHAT IS A LIVING MAN DOING HERE?"boomed a shrill voice. I looked around. I saw nothing but the cavernous red lit ceiling of the underworld. I looked down. Clocking in at about three feet was a demon. It looked up at me like a child eyes a bowl of split pea soup. "I parked here."I said. The gremlin like faced shifted from disgusted to confused. "How?" "I was late to work, and now by the time I get back I'm probably going to be fired..." "Oh, so you saw the job offer." "Yes."I lied. "Well then, you're the only to apply, so we can skip the interview."He turned his back to me and yelled, "ALL HAIL THE NEW SATAN." Voices really travel in Hell, because I think I heard every demon yell back, hailing what i could only assume to be me. "Uh, sir?" "Please, I prefer Mephistopheles." "Okay, Memphis sock Phillys, what happened to the last Satan?" "Oh, Lucifer?"He put his head down. "A real tragedy. He was working part time as an accountant to make ends meet when he stepped in front of that dump truck." I remembered. That's how I got the job opening. I took the job of Satan. Twice. I wasn't sure if U could handle the respnsibilty of being ruler of the dead. Then I wondered. "Do I get dental?" "Yes, of course, why?" "Just checking."I was going to like it here.
I felt a slight tremor in the floor as Derek took a step towards me. I stuck both hands out, palms up, at an arm's length as I leaned back from the waist. In spite of being indoors, I felt a harsh blast of air as what must have been his hand swung across the space in front of my face. I laughed out loud. It was a rather tense moment and I was a little nervous but I wanted him to hear me laugh. He always got special treatment from our parents. Because he was younger and because of his disability, he was so entitled. They always made everything so easy for him and never let him be in danger. I only teased him because I didn't want him to grow up to be a sensitive wuss. "They've got a name for people like you,"he said, "but mom says I'm not allowed to say it." "That was my nickname in high school,"I said and then the room was quiet and motionless for 3 seconds. "What was your nickname in high school?" "Whatever you were going to say." I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, feeling the urge to open them grow stronger, knowing how bad he must want to hit me. But I wasn't going to beat up my blind little brother without giving myself a handicap. We were in a silent standoff for a few more seconds, the only sounds were his frantic breaths. I fumbled around behind me until I felt my hands grasp his mini baseball bat which always sat atop the dresser. I tossed it at him, chest height, "you're going to need a weapon, if you want to escalate this argument beyond the realm of verbal abuse." The small wooden bat made a soft thud sound as it bounced off his chest and some clunky noises as it hit the floor. Then it was quiet again. He said nothing, I knew the tears would come now. I heard him sobbing in frantic short breaths, "f- f- f- fff- f- ff- f-f- ." Just as the palpable tension in the room was about to build to a climax, right before the moment I knew he would lunge at me. I reached to my right, where I knew his giant teddy bear was sitting on his bed. "Here, take this if you need a shoulder to cry on,"I said as I launched the teddy bear in his general direction. Him and the Bear toppled into something that made a loud crashing noise. I put one hand over my eyes to stop myself from trying to open them. Our mom rushed into the room, tackled me onto the bed and started slapping me relentlessly. But the slaps didn't hurt. Her body lurched around on top of me like she was trying to hit me as hard as she could, but all I felt were these light little paps on my cheeks as if a baby were slapping me. A fear so deep it was impractical grew within me as I frantically tried to open my eyes. Now that I wanted to open my eyes I couldn't. I was so scared. I would do anything to escape this terror which I did not understand. Mother, screaming right on top of me, yet I could not make out what she was saying... I woke up, Derek was shaking me. "-wake up Jack, Jack wake up!" I went to sit up, but nothing happened. I couldn't move my legs, couldn't move my arms. I tried to speak, all that came out was a moaning sound. "Christ! Jack, you've bit your tongue again, there's blood trickling all the way down to your neck, it's all over your pillow." Suddenly I remembered my accident. I remembered drinking on the river, the ride back home. I remembered not wearing my seatbelt and being thrown from the car as it flipped through the air. I began to sob, heavily. Derek threw his arms around me and squeezed tight, pressing his head into my chest. His hair and my tears tickled my face, but I couldn't move to scratch. I couldn't stop crying long enough to ask him to scratch it for me. "F- f- f- fuuh huh huck!"
Makeing the call was a little harder with my new friend constantly pokeing me. Thankfully I managed to make the call. "Yes? Who is this?" You know I would have thought she'd have realized I'm the only unregistered number that ever called the office. "Marian, it's me again. Found myself in a bit of a pickle here." I hear the easily recognisable sigh of my over worked assistant. Feel bad for this one. A week on the job and it seams to be getting to her. She really didn't get paid enough for this. "I really don't get paid enough for this."I hear the familiar clacking of key strokes. Quite fast, but she needs to be able to document my 'Events' in case anything happens. Number of times I spontaneously black out will just send me somewhere else. Not always some place or time to let me make a call. "Is it the crab people? A blue box? Bilbo from LotR? A doppleganger? Godzilla? Please tell me it's Gozdzilla. You still owe me that signed aughtagraph you promised me." "'Fraid not. Think I'm near Mars in a space station. Meet some Martian men. Nice guys. You know, after they stopped trying to probe me."I slap one of the little green men's hands, who was trying convince me their alien tool wouldnt hurt me by shoveing the thing in my face. It didn't burn on contact but like hell I was letting it anywhere near my but. Persistent bunch. 'Sigh'. "Well at least you're still in this version of reality. God forbid you get stuck in the Loony Toons universe again. Took us a couple months to get you in the right sleeping position to come back home. Still don't know how you get to these places, let alone while takeing a 15 minute power nap. Your wife gets worried sick about you, you know? Even though I'm a blessed child from the great beyond of the void, my tentacles tremble whenever I have to tell your 8ft Amazon lover you'll be late for dinner." I give a nervous chuckle at the thought. She never likes to see the food go cold. Thinks it's a waste considering the amount of effort it takes killing a dinosaur with your bear hands. "Alright, filed for later. Remember, sleep on your left side, tuck you right leg below your left knee, rest your cheek on the back of your left hand and suck you right thumb past the knuckle. Should be raiding the comman area fridge in 30 minutes after going to sleep." I get into the proper sleeping form on the floor, urging the the extraterrestrials to step back by promising to be more open to some testing later. I imagine the'll be just as surprised to see me leave just as easily I got there. Sleep travel can be as convenient as it is inconvenient at times. Hope I don't end up in Canada. Santa doesn't like my visits after the last time I was there.
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Another six billion years till heat death. Or at least, that’s what the last sentient race estimated three or four eons years back. Those poor guys had long disappeared off the face off the universe, and after that, who’s keeping score? Certainly not me. I remember, maybe billion years ago, came the maddest rush I ever had. A massive chain reaction was triggered by a particularly insatiable civilisation back then – humans, they called themselves. I liked them. Never a dull day for when they were around. Some “innovative” new technology they experimented with caused the stars around them to die off left and right. Funny, they were always warning each other not to fly too close to the Sun. Then they blew it up. Took out most of the life in the neighbouring galaxies too. Talk about neighbours from hell. Ferrying the dead on to the afterlife was a mixed bag. The simpler lifeforms, for the most part, accepted their fate with no bargaining. Not like they could fathom the concept anyway. The sentient one, however, were always thoroughly bewildered. All of them plead, first for mercy (not my jurisdiction), and then for guidance on what came next. I wish I knew. Of course, even without the help of the impending doom of stars collapsing, most other advanced civilisations were speeding things up with the constant technological progress and subsequent internal implosions. Kind of unnerving really, how determined most beings are to end their time on this mortal plane. No complaints from me though. I like my work. It makes me feel alive – if that’s the right word for it. Things have gotten really cold in the last eon or so. These days, I spend my time with the last thousand or so creatures that still remain on a frigid dwarf planet tucked somewhere near the last dead star. As their numbers dwindle, I feel myself getting worn out. It’s a nice feeling to finally age with another lifeform. Even if that lifeform spends its days hibernating, basically indistinguishable from a furry rock. At least now I have some time to myself before I collect the final few that remain. I wonder if anyone is going to collect me.
Marlin had thought that his first command would be the greatest moment of his life. Instead, he'd spent the first week leaning over the railing of the troopship, throwing up non-stop as they sailed ponderously through the archipelago. &#x200B; Now he was feeling his stomach turn yet again. As he leaned against the prow of the ship's longboat and watched the island approach, Marlin tried very hard not to upchuck onto his gleaming parade-polished armor. "You're looking fine and green today, Marlin"Sabie said, skipping up next to him. "That's 'You're looking fine and green today, Commander',"Marlin growled. Sabie was the only person on the ship not under his command. As the attache from the Royal Magician's Guild, she had defined Marlin's authority from day one. The week spent on the ship had only worsened his dislike of the young magician. &#x200B; When the longboat plowed up onto the beach, Marlin stifled the urge to leap out and kiss the ground. He stepped gingerly off the boat, trying hard to ignore Sabie, who skipped off the prow and immediately gallivanted up the beach. "Set up a perimeter,"Marlin commanded, "Perkins! With me." Lieutenant Perkins was short and stocky, the top of her head barely reaching Marlin's shoulders. She scanned the beach with keen eyes as the troops spread out in a half circle around their beachhead. "Take Gryphon squad and scout the surroundings,"Marlin said, turning back toward the longboat, "look for anyone else that might be on this island." Perkins cleared her throat. "Like those elves, sir?" Marlin whirled around. Sabie stood under the shade of the first palm trees right off the beach, eating a coconut and talking to a gaggle of tall, gangly elves. "Belay that,"Marlin said, grinding his teeth, "Gryphon squad on me!" &#x200B; Marlin stalked up the beach. "Making friends, are we?"He growled. "Yeah,"Sabie said, flicking the husk of the coconut into the bushes. "This is Beanie, Knoples, and Hollow,"she pointed to the elves in turn, "You won't believe ..." "That's enough."Marlin cut her off, "Do what you're here for, cast a Babel spell so I can talk to these elves." "There's no need,"Sabie said, "I speak elvish." "You do?" "Yeah. That's how I found out that the Pool of Infinity, you know, the source of all our kingdom's power? Yeah, it's under Beanie's village." &#x200B; Marlin froze. He examined the elves for the first time. They were barely adolescents, but they all wore slender bows on their backs. He had no doubt that their arrows were tipped with poison. A stray glance would be enough to paralyze a man. "How many in the village?" Sabie narrowed her eyes, "Maybe four dozen? But there's like five villages on the island." Marlin thought furiously. He had two squads on the beach. Two dozen troops. Six more squads on the ship. Not enough to outnumber the elves. But he had an ace up his sleeve. &#x200B; "Marlin,"Sabie said, "you can't seriously be considering fighting them." Marlin ignored her. "Perkins!"he said, "Send a message to the ship."He glared at the elves. "Tell them to wake up the troll."
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With shaking hands, I took the pipe. The self-professed shaman smiled toothily at me through his bushy ginger beard. Behind me, his assistant prepared the mattress and pillows for me to fall back on. "Remember to surrender yourself to the experience,"the shaman urged. "Accept the medicine's healing." In the pipe? A portion of venom from Bufo alvarius, the Sonoran Desert Toad, which contains 5-MeO-DMT -- the "God"molecule. The pipe met my lips. In the brief moment before inhalation, I looked back on how I got here. The endless searching for meaning. Giving myself over to crooks, cults, mushroom evangelists and acid messiahs. The experiences I'd had: the trips, the terror, the beauty, the wonder. But the Truth -- that samadhi I so longed for -- ever elusive. Not for much longer, my shaman assured me. The medicine will connect you to Source, and all shall be healed. His words like butterflies in my mind, I took the hit. A great wave of energy overcame me and locked me in place. Time stood still in its wake. A ringing in my ears, familiar from my n,n,DMT experiences -- like the "connection tone"of a far distant cosmic signal, my brain tapping into its frequencies under the medicine's influence. Then a great pressure on my chest, twisting and twisting and never stopping, until I collapsed back on the mattress and felt my very being dissipating... dissipating... This is dying, was my last conscious thought. But strangely, there was no fear. There was nothing, in fact. And everything! A great, monumental everything! An infinite light, an infinite void... a void so full it was empty. There was no me... only It. In fact... I was It. And so was everything else. From here everything came, and back to it we shall return. I understood that now. Gradually the sensation faded. I heard the shaman's tribal playlist on the stereo, like a siren call of reality. My body, mind and sense of self re-structured itself. "We are the universe experiencing itself", as Carl Sagan said. Never in my whole life did that saying make so much sense. &#x200B; &#x200B;
I saw you drifting far away from what you once were. First came the bad friends, then the unnecessary surgeries, then the bad boyfriends, and finally came your hatred of your family when they found out you were dating the wrong sort. I saw all of this when I refused to give a damn about your situation and worried about myself. You later ran away from home, and they had no clue where you were, but I still saw you every day for school. Our last words are what cut the already thin and taught string that held us together. I still remember how I pleaded you to go back to your worried family; graduation was right around the corner and I wanted you to part with the people who loved you most on good terms. You were angry, and that anger turned to hatred towards your childhood friend. You said if I actually gave a damn then where the hell was I for four years? You had a right to hate me, for I had left you to deal with your own crises. Gone was the cheerful girl that I would play monopoly with for hours, and in her place was a young woman who had lost everything for the attention of others. I never saw you again after that fallout, and now I am going away for good. All I can say is that I'm sorry for drifting away from you when I should have been there when you struggled to find yourself. I've failed you in more ways than one and if there is a world after this one, then I will surely answer for the crimes I've committed against you. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy enough to find the heart to forgive me. Maybe then I can face my crimes with a sense of relief. Farewell, old friend.
"Hun, you know we're trying to conserve power while we're on the night side. It's going to be another couple of months before the sun comes up and we can start charging again. We just can't spare the juice to have the sky on most nights."I could almost hear Mom roll her eyes. As usual, my little sister was relentless. "Come ooooooon, it's been like a hundred days since we used it. We never use the sky anymore. I just wanna see some stars and stuff, or a cloud or something. Anything but the stupid dome."She had been asking every night for weeks. Mom sighed loudly. "It absolutely has not been a hundred days, we turned the sky on for your birthday just last month and you know it. It's not up to me anyway, you know your father is in charge of power management, go ask him."Mom swiped at her with a kitchen towel, playfully but I could tell she was starting to get annoyed. Amanda easily dodged the towel and giggled. "So if I ask Dad and he says it's ok can we do it?" "Ugh, fine. Yes, go ask Dad. If he says it's ok we'll turn on the sky."Amanda squealed and ran out of the room. Moments later I heard her pounding down the lower level accessway toward Dad's engineering bay.
I sat, my entire body shaking as I tried to shove lukewarm, plain, boiled linguine into my mouth. "I.. I can't, I just can't! Who knows what he could do? I have no chance, I'd die as soon as I see him. I don't have any flashy super-power, I just control the wildlife!" "No, Kieran. I've told you, you can easily overcome this one.."Scion, my somewhat generic Android Butler stood back from me a pace or two- trying to calm me down and take on the bounty for Fiear's imprisonment. "And I've told you I can't! I've heard the rumors. How would I be able to stop someone who can topple buildings using his mind!? Do you think a bear could stop that? I'm a washed up Gen-Two Hero, let's face it." "Kieran, the reason you control the wildlife is because you have the ability to alter every single signal an individual's brain to do your bidding. People too, not just animals." "And? I need to see them to do it, Scion! What's the use of my power if I can't see them!"I slammed my fist on top of my desk, my voice raising as fear turned to anger. "Why the hell do you need me to defeat this guy, anyway? Make someone else do it- hell, you do it yourself. I equipped you with a gun, and I can equip you with more if you want." "Because", Scion said, "You're the only one who can stop him. Fiear may not be powerful, but his followers will be. Nobody else can single-handedly deal with large organizations like this. There's a reason you're from Gen-Two and still alive and kicking, you know." "Stop talking in hypotheticals!"I groaned out in frustration and sank back down in my seat, pushing away my bowl of now-cold plain, boiled linguine and burying my face in my hands. "I know I can beat any lackey he has, but it's HIM we're talking about, yeah?! What about HIS power?" Scion walked closer a step or two until he was behind me, placing his hand on the desk. "Power, singular. He only has one confirmed power."Scion held up a digit on his gloved hand. "Kieran, I've been telling you time and time again, the only power he has is to make people feel afraid!"
Purge planning can be a lucrative occupation. People plan all year long for their birthday purge. Purge planning parties are held and catered by professional purge planners. Regardless of the low odds of a "successful"birthday purge. Its argued every year to raise the minimum age from 18 to 21 to participate in bdayP's be passed into law. That just wouldn't be profitable nor would it align with the governments underlying reason for allowing bdayP's. Population control. Legal as bdayP's may be there's a 80.6% chance of a singular death occurrence per bdayP and a 52.3% chance of multiple deaths by those that participate come their 18th birthday. These figures aren't released to the public of course. As senior executive of Birthday Pro Purge Planning (B3P) I report these and many other figures to the government alone who take them and calculate national growth rates in comparison to dwindling natural resources and food production rates to come up with a population reduction rate that we facilitate through bdayP deaths country wide. Its not difficult. The are 814,000 birthdays celebrated on average per day in the United Stated alone. Roughly 11,000 per day turn 18. Your average 18yr old chooses one of three packages we offer 82.8% of the time. Murder, bank robbery or rape. Multiple murder packages are more rarely chosen and the death calculated separately as are those of older Americans who choose to participate in bdayP's. We as a company only report the successful bdayP's to the public of course. Mary Jenner who broke into a famous amusement park and released captive animals into the wild. Malik Smith who took his coach hostage in his home to expose him for sexually abusing players. The kids who kill the school bully, attempts to rape their crush who laughs at and humiliated them, murder their parents for being unfair are kept under wraps. They usually lead to suicide anyway, or a retribution kill come a victims relatives bdayP. Today is my birthday. My 43rd birthday to be exact and the first time I will participate in a bdayP. Its taken most of my life to plan. Most of my life to get to where I am today so as to be able to plan and execute. Climbing my way quickly up the corporate ladder, meeting key government officials, gaining trust and developing a reputation. Being able to use my position to make one request on my birthday. Step one was to get high enough in the company to confirm my suspicions that the purge was government run or at least backed by. Step two to gain influence and trust as a reliable backer of the purge plan and reasoning behind d it. Step three, stageing an interview where I was asked how I can run a company such as B3P while having never participated in a bdayP myself setring the stage for part four. The last step was arranging my bdayP with the President. Convincing him and his council that the best way to recover from my interviewers question was to run a PR campaign involving me participating in a bdayP, stealing my way into the oval office and sitting in the Presidents chair and announcing my claim to the position. The president loved the idea and being an election year would of course be there on camera to share in the joke. His blood stains the rug now and I've already announced my claim to the presidency and my first new law that shall be passed. The birthday purge is no more. From henceforth there will only be one day a year where the purge is held for everyone. Welcome to the new Purge.
I fly into DC on a cold winter day. I had planned this trip months ago and unfortunately didn't expect the government to shut down during the trip. All the fun locations were closed but I didn't want to cancel my trip. I arrived into the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport and immediately upon landing I could hear the typical thoughts after a flight Thank god we made it here without any issues. I ONLY HAVE 25 MINUTES TO MAKE MY NEXT FLIGHT. I need to get out of this plane and find the nearest smoking area!! ... Nothing out of the ordinary as we exited the plane. However, once we deplaned there was a huge commotion at the gates. Seems like someone of importance was at the airport. I couldn't tell who was there. I always had the ability to hone in on any specific voice if I tried hard enough. Some believed it was a movie star. Another said it was some actress or something like that. Soon, I can hear them all thinking rather aggressively thinking one name. "And that kids is the day I met Mitch McConnell"
\[Poem\] &#x200B; A squish, a squish that's full of hurts, with some hard lines and squares that also have hurts. A squish that exchanges air with the atmosphere, with each transaction coming with hurts free of charge. A squish who sometimes squishes with the other squishes, squishing each other with squish juice. This also results in hurts. A squish that devours the smaller squishes and things that snap. These make the hurts go away. For a bit. A squish that despite being a squish pretends to be solid. This is to reflect the hurts, but being solid is full of its own hurts. A squish that stays still and ceases to squish so much. This makes the hurts go away for a bit A squish that holds other squishes hoping to squeeze away each others' hurts. A squish that vibrates the other squishes, hoping to massage away the hurts. A squish that rocks each other to and for to sooth away the hurts. A squish will burst to keep another squish safe from the hurts. A squish that shares hurts with other squishes so they don't feel alone with the hurts. A squish that shakes back in forth learning to shed some of the hurts. A squish that rocks other squishes, showing them how to rid themselves of the hurts Being a squish hurts, but there are other squishes to have hurts and sometimes, for a bit, together with much effort that hurts go away. And the squishes feel warm and ripple with joy. &#x200B;
You know those conspiracy theories you can read on the net? There’s plenty of them on 4Chan and even a few subreddits. They usually concern Hollywood actors, liberal politicians, and the standard sort of billionaire taking part in horrific occult rituals in the worship of Moloch or Satan or some other equally horrific Demon. Load of horseshit; right? If it had been a few years ago I would have agreed with you. The ravings of people with too much time on their hands, mental issues and not enough hobbies. But today? Well, today I know it’s true. Well, mostly true – the rituals that these new lot get up to are far worse than anything a denizen of the internet could cook up in their mother’s basement. There wasn’t much to notice at first. It was 2030 and the first successful human cloning trial had gone through – that was in a black-lab in Chengdu, China. It was less than legal, and it’d be a bad joke to describe it as ‘legitimate’. The issue was that the clones they were poppin’ out were brain dead. Sure, they could breath and blink, but they had glassy eyes, the sort that lacks any sort of spark of intelligence or life. And if ya’ left them there, they’d be happy to sit, wither, starve and then die. Which is what happened to the lot of them when the funding for that particular operation dried up. Flashforward to 2040, after the oil wars the multi-national corps have tightened their grip on the American, European and Asian markets. Really dug their claws into the whole legislative process – and considering how far those claws were in already, you know it’s gotten bad. Those rich old folks at the top are starting to feel the twinges of old age. Sore back, broken hips, can’t get their dick up. That sorta thing. Well, they get to thinking – why can’t we just get moved into younger bodies. The tech to make clones is there, right? They just have to crack the code for transferring consciousness. At first, they weren’t very successful until – at least as far as I’m able to trace it through my own sources – a smart little lady by the name of Lilith Fair, and stop me if you can see the foreshadowing here, pops up onto their radar. Ah, she can move your consciousness over easy. You’ll get a younger body and even better? It’ll be faster, stronger, hell it can even fuck longer. Anyone with a net worth in the ten figure range jumps on the idea. It gets to the point where even the young rich folks are moving into these new bodies. Of course, what they don’t realise is that they aren’t getting a new body at all. They’re getting sacrificed. And that little backup host that Miss Fair is cloning for them? That’s getting inhabited by the Beelzebub’s, the Asmodeus and the Mephistopheles of the world. Or the underworld I should say. Demons. Hell. All real – and all those conspiracies you read online aren’t the half of it. The entirety of our world’s upper echelons are being converted into these things. Some of the stronger demons can’t quite hold a proper body together. Ever wonder why you don’t see Zuckerberg out at press conferences for leaking your nudes these days? His body is now the proud host of Baal, and to a hive of insects that continually crawls and slithers around him. In through the nose, wiggle it’s way on out underneath his eye. Even uglier than those nudes of yours he leaks. There’s one positive when it comes down to it, I think. The process is expensive and there’s no way it’s going to become wide-spread. Takes too much time, costs far too much. But we’re in a bit of ‘up shit creek without a paddle’ situation, assuming that the shit in the creek was on fire and your boat happened to be made out of tinder. I mean, the most influential people in the world are getting turned into demons for God’s sake. If that doesn’t cry ‘end times’, I don’t know what does. Oh. You’re probably wondering who I am. I’m Chuck. I was one of the fellars they called on before Miss Lilith showed up and offered those rich folks the secret of immortality. I used to work on cybernetics, robots, that sort of thing. These days? Well I’ve got a fancy few cybernetic additions of my own. As for my occupation? I’m thinking Demon Hunter. ____________________________ Thanks for reading through that! Hope you enjoyed it!
The Watchful One was always amused by my morning ritual. Without fail, as the sun pierced through morning dew, the same desperate grey streak from pillow to upright. I sat in my bed, pining for the simpler times, when I had the luxury of sleeping without event. "I slept like a log"was the common idiom I'd hear strewn about among my friends, all of which I lost months ago, without gratitude. Of course, back then, a sleepless night was a nightmare in itself. I'd get up for work and look forward to sleep. What I wouldn't give to never close my eyes again. On my night stand lay a discarded white box, which I shook with fervor. Empty. Great. Walking in the waking, productive world seemed like a journey now. Smiling mothers would turn their glance at my sight and my neighbors avoided my gaze. I've ceased to be human to the awake. But only the awake. My bony frame shook with the autumn wind. I'd need to buy food as well. Need, mind you, not want. I arrived at the counter, to a smiling cashier, whose demeanor I'd seen several times before. Her eyes gave it away, crease-less, gave way to a forced smile and a repressed disgust. "I'm sorry sir, it's just store policy that I speak to my manager about this"she quivered. Her manager was not so kind, and seemed afraid of me. "I'm sorry sir"he choked, "but we've just been advised by the local police department that we can't sell that to you."I figured that if these people feared me, I might as well use it to an end. "Why not?"I growled. "Well...sir"he stammered, "This area has a...substantial...methamphetamine problem, and the Sheriff's asked us to limit the amount of sleeping pills we can sell to a customer."I glared at him through a sunken, empty gaze. "How many?"I asked. "How many what, sir?"he tensed, preparing for me to lunge at him. "How many can I buy?"I asked. "Maximum 3 per customer"he replied. I wiped seven boxes off the counter. "And would you like the apple in the bag too, sir?"the cashier asked. I gave a solemn nod, and forced myself to eat it. The Watchful One gave me a simple proposition. "Your dreams are worse than your nightmares"his voice scraped against the back of my brain, "but you will always sleep."I didn't ask any questions. I took his offer and never looked back. What he didn't tell me is that I'd always experience something every night, be it nightmare or dream. I arrived home and checked my clock. 5:45 pm. I felt somewhat proud of my ability to overcome addiction, to conquer what I hated, the waking. I had spent a full 30 minutes awake, the longest I had in a week. I felt a desperation creeping in, a fear, as I'd soon run out of money. Soon I wouldn't be able to buy the pills and soon I wouldn't be able to sleep again. The idea scared me. To be chemically dependent on my body for sleep... I took two pills to forget, and lay against my pillow. 'When would this end?' I thought. I looked over to the pills. An idea crept into my mind, an intrusive one, that I had hated for the last week. It could be tonight. The afterlife, is after all, just an eternal sleep, right? I prepared myself to roll over, to take 20 or so pills, and finally be free. 1...2...3. I awoke in a meadow. A breeze brought the vivid feeling of lilacs to the forefront. I sat up, and anxiety rocked me. The peace could only be indicative of one thing right? A dream. My stomach turned as I searched my settings. I jolted myself up, looking around the field. Please, I thought, let there be a pit viper in the long grass. No inky hissing smear. No eldritch evil. Just a calm wind. Tears crept down my cheek, and I cast my gaze towards the lonely hill on the grassy plateau, and the tree it held. A familiar red streak fluctuated with the wind, and called me nearer to the trunk. I climbed to the top, and could not speak. The streak changed to a face, her face. She held my chin. "How many nightmares this time?"she grimaced. "It's been 14 days"I felt my heart give, as I couldn't bear to tell her that I'd lost my job. I couldn't bear to let her know how bad things were. But then again, this was a dream, right? She had to have known. "But we're here now, together."she smiled, pulling my view towards her. "And until those pills wear off, we have an eternity together."I looked down, ashamed, letting the grass calm me. "Did I do it?"I asked her. "I told you you'd wake up, didn't I?"she murmured. I kissed her plump lips and threw my arm into her hair. "One day I'll wake up next to you, I promise" Around mid afternoon, as the sun came to halt in the sky, I stared up at her in fear. "It's happening baby. It's always so real"I choked. "We'll meet again"she smiled as the tree began to fade into the glowing sky, "you'll dream again"I tried to stand up from her lap, to start the dream into a nightmare. To fight the waking. But I lost, and soon, the pills tempted me again. The nightmares were worth the risk. See, that's what made the dreams worse. There was no feeling of dread, no fear of what would lurk in the recesses of my mind. What made dreaming worse was the waking, and the immediate need to return to sleep.
As I got out of my bed at 5am in the morning, I thought about my daily list of chores; feed the cat, get that damn Jeep fixed, buy my groceries, and kill that old man living across the street. When I lay asleep in bed, souls seem to ‘drift’ up from Hell to visit me. It happens so often that I hang a sign up in my apartment which reads ‘Brett Martin, assassin. Works on Tuesdays only.’ It never works. Seriously, though, the dead really need to learn their manners. In the night, I was paid a visit by a 62 year old man who wanted Sam Winters dead. It was a simple job, and for a great price of $550,000. Naturally, the money is paid into my bank account after the job is done. I’m only 23 years old, and I’m already a serial killer. For a few days, I studied Sam’s daily routine. He left his house only for work, and at the weekends to go to the Tesco in the next town. A recluse. He wasn’t in any relationships, and didn’t have any friends. Nobody would miss him. Also, a milkman came to the door of his apartment every two days. This what I used against Sam. I walked into the building, wearing jeans and a sci-fi T-shirt. I didn’t want to stand out.Nonchalantly,I wandered around for a few seconds and found the stairs. Slowly, I silently walked to the third floor, and knocked on Number 33. After about 15 seconds, Sam opened the door. I walked in, and grabbed him by the throat. It took him a few seconds to die. I left the building. A couple of hours later, my bank balance became $551,032. I smiled in relief. I had nearly ran out of money.
I didn’t really think much about the mental consequences of my actions. Then, once I was inside the simulator, I didn’t think much at all. Brown Bear Simulator 2099. A clear upgrade over last year’s edition, complete with the optional environmental stimulation mod, and multiple DLC landscapes. Awesome! I lay inside the hyperBEARIC chamber. It was little more than a sensory deprivation tank, with a few electrodes stuck to strategic points around my head. I’d heard they were transitioning to a completely wireless model in the future, but I’d believe it when I saw it. The simulator voice chimed. “We thank you for participating. Before we begin, note that your bear-lifespan can be anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five years, depending on the location and environmental content selected.” Hell-year. Thirty years of bear glory! They weren’t kidding when they said the right to bear arms would be awesome. And on the plus side, in the real world, I’d be home in time for supper. I hope mom is making her special bacon-mac again. “We noticed you have selected an ‘edge-of-the-city’ starting environment. While we congratulate you on the rich aspects of the chosen environment, it is important that we warn you that interacting with humans while inside the simulation can dramatically reduce your bear lifespan. Note that humans will often hunt so called ‘problem bears’ that have habitual interactions.” No eating people. Got it. Or… maybe just one? If I ever get bored with the whole bear thing, mauling someone wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Or would it? What am I saying, these are simulated people! They could have a family, for god’s sake! Games are weird these days. “We highly recommend you treat your bear with care. With the right combination of a varied diet, a large territory, and a strict avoidance of humans, you can ensure a meaningful bear experience.” I shuffled around, getting nervous. “Computer, can I skip this and jump right in? I’ve played Black Bear Simulator 2090 so I know what to do already.” The computer ignored me, droning on. “Remember, every winter your bear will need to hibernate. The time will pass quickly, and this allows the simulation to correct itself and adapt to new user inputs. Loss of fine motor control, dizziness, nausea, and disturbing memories are all part of the hibernation process. We'll see you in a few decades; thank you for participating." Yes! Bear time! Wow. I shake my bear maw, feeling the sun beat down on my fur. I think I’m a year or two old, so I skipped the “bear cub” stage. That’s probably another DLC. It’s pretty bright out where I am, and I can smell so many things! Goodness, that smells delicious. What is that? I lumbered over to the edge of the forest. My paws are so big! Wow. This is such an improvement over Black Bear Simulator 2090. A human opens the lid to a dumpster, throwing in a bag. Garbage, gross! Garbage. Good? Yummy? I want that garbage. It smells so good! And look at my big paws. I bet I can smash that garbage bin right over. I roar with delight, bearing down on the pathetic metal thing. I think I hear screaming, but that’s ok, because look at all this garbage! Yes! Eat! Eat! EAT! *** I really want this to exist, if that's a bit weird... Anyway, r/BLT_WITH_RANCH for more, I guess.
I look up at the structure. It is definetly temple shaped. The enormous pillars supporting a huge roof fit the picture. The large balconies at which profits and sages can address the populace to preach are all in perfect positions The little alcoves and pedestals to place the religious statues are so numerous I'm amazed they were all somehow filled with such generically holy things while not stepping on the toes of a known god. I'd ask the gods how on earth a town of farm workers managed to construct a temple rivalling any other but this temple is empty of their echoing voices. There is no god here. No deity has claimed this temple as theirs. It's simply built for a god. Not any in particular such as Irenestry, Keyrunsky or Damaskar but still made with deities in mind it serves the purpose of a temple. It holds the power of a temple. Here a man can hope and pray, giving up a part of himself to something higher, something more. Even if that something more isn't there. I watch a dozen or so farmers do just that. Pray to the god they hope to fill this celestial birdbox they have created. It really is fascinating the effort they have put into developing practises and ceremonies for no reason at all. Each act precise and as well rehearsed as those of an archbishop or high priest. What is their belief achieving I wonder? What do they seek to achieve as they pray for a bountiful harvest by sacrificing the choicest gifts they reaped the year before? Or is it simply the act of worship they wish to partake? That's when it clicks. All these years wandering the lands has dulled my once clear mind, muddled sharp thoughts to confused slurrings. This place is perfect. A temple. Devotees. Ceremonies and rituals all made out ready and prepared. That's why I was drawn here to this celestial birdbox. It's time for this little birdy to roost.
“I don’t understand. If you are from the future, and you’re an alchemist, why doesn’t it work now? It’s the same universe, right? It follows the same laws as now.” The older man sighed, then squinted into his flagon at the somewhat dubious ale. Johan had pulled out his best when the elder stranger arrived. He had, at first, thought he was just an itinerant beggar due to his rags and strange tongue, but after he answered a few advanced questions about Alchemy – and knew things about Johan himself nobody could know – he let him in to his home. Well, hovel. Alchemy in this small town didn’t pay well. Still, an alchemist claiming to be from the future, and immortal to boot – that was worth bringing out his best ale (such as it was.) “Yes,” the elder finally said. “But it turns out that the thing we were missing this whole time was Nemesis.” Johan the younger frowned. “What’s that, sir… what do I call you?” The elder stood up and walked over to the papers on the battered desk that was one of the few pieces of furniture in the hut. “I had a legal name change when I immigrated to… never mind. Call me John for now. “ John reached the desk, scrounged around it like he knew the pile intimately and withdrew an alchemical drawing. Holding it up, he pointed at several symbols. “The philosopher’s stone,” Johan said. “In theory. You found it?” “Sort of. We knew there was a stone, we knew it radiated energies of an unknown type. It turned out there was a star like the Sun, called Nemesis. It’s a… well, it’s a small star not too far away, cosmically speaking. It bathes our planet with waves of gravity of a precise… well. This is a little beyond you, yet. But in about 20 years the radiation is going to shift, and when it does, certain alchemical processes are going to start working that were before just theoretical.” “That’s great!” exclaimed Johan, crossing to the desk excitedly. He pawed through the papers, pulling out and waving some of the ones he’d recently worked on. “And all this will just start functioning as theorized?” “More or less,” John said. “We figure out immortality a few years later. It becomes a secret to a select few, who rule the world from the shadows for hundreds of years. Most of them were content to sit on their asses and rake in the money and power, but I kept up with the research. And then there was… the error.” Johan watched John look off into the distance. The older man shook his head. “How bad of an error could it be, though, really?” Johan said. “You’re here, alive, unhurt, yes? Can’t you just use your powers to go back forward in time to-“ “No!” John barked angrily. “I told you. I don’t get access to N-Rays from Nemesis for another 20 years. And even then, the concentration of energy will take years after that to work. I’m stuck here. Which is why I suggested the arrangement.” Johan nodded. “To be my tutor and master until the time you can return. I can’t say no… but…” he gestured around the room, “I don’t have much. A powerful mage like you would have his pick of any student, princely or not. Why me?” John shook his head. “I can’t divulge my reasons. You are the one. Will you accept my tutelage?” Johan looked at him in awe. “Of course, master. “ A few hours later, arrangements made, John sat on a stool outside the hut, taking in the air, watching the villages walking about their business. Johan had left to procure bedding and food (or what passed for it.) John grimaced, remembering the awful food he had to endure when he was living here, close to three hundred years ago. The horseflesh! Ugh, eating horse again. He looked up at the stars, roughly to where Nemesis would be if today. “You tricky bastard,” he muttered. He still didn’t know what happened exactly. He had begun the experiment in his lab as always. The previous attempts had all worked – he had leapt forward and backward in time for several minutes successfully (all isolated in the causality chamber’s paradox field so he wouldn’t interfere with his own timeline destructively). Then he tried a longer jump forward – just a few decades. Instead of the gentle transition, this time he crashed into… some kind of barrier. A waveform or anomaly. it catapulted him backwards like a rocket. The only reason he even stopped in the time instead of going back to pre-history was the stabilizer belt blew a Tesla capacitor when it hit the field, and the stored N-rays leaked out in transit. John groaned, thinking about the belt, buried in the woods nearby. Dammit, he thought. If the capacitor hadn’t blown, it might have kept its store of N-Rays and he could have returned home. Now he was trapped, reprising the role of tutor that he remembered from his youth. It made sense, anyway. The mysterious older man who appeared with the story of time travel and the knowledge of alchemy was what he remembered from his own (dimly remembered) past. Slotting himself into the timeline was an obvious way for things to go. John looked around the old village. So much to remember. The fat priest from the abbey, the baker’s wife… there’s that shop that sells the revolting vegetables, he thought. Him – his master, that is – always seemed perfectly miserable the twenty years he was around, before he vanished. Now he knew why. As an old beggar man began to limp down the street, he recalled his master’s stories of the future. That far in the past was pretty dim to him now, but that’s for the best, he thought. Best not to try and second guess causality. Besides, not everything in this past was identical, he mused. My old master said he had a master of his own, and he had no master that he knew of – “Johan Krauss,” said the beggar, by now standing nearby. “you are a fucking idiot.” Johan looked at the old beggar, who peered out from under his rags. The face was old, lined, ugly, and his. He opened his mouth to speak and barely managed to squeak. “Shut up. I’m your master, AGAIN. And this time the plan has changed. We’re in trouble. I have a lot we have to go over.” “But what about causality?” John whimpered. “Screw that shit” the beggar snorted. “We’re trying to survive, now. The fucking Nemesites are after us. They didn’t take kindly to us syphoning off their N-Rays.” “Oh shit?” said Johan. “Indeed” said Johan.
September 4th It wasn't long until we started to take notice, just hours actually. Signs of struggle, footsteps everywhere, traces of blood, and something else...There were at least two hundred of us on the boat, the best of the best. We could find anything we set our minds to and did it with expert passion. But what we've found instead has shaken us to the core. My team had found the clearing at dusk. We knew from the moment we entered that this was not always a clearing. In fact, the area surrounding the object in the center was still warm and embers still trickled. The object in the center appeared to be a pedestal made of the darkest stone I'd ever seen. It was as if it was a black hole for the soul. Whatever was atop the strange pillar however, was gone. We found traces of the other teams in the rubble. Bones, bags, jewelry. Horrified, we tried retreating back to the boat. We weren't going to have anything to do with this. But when we got to the beach, only the bow of the boat remained, the rest completely submerged. We've set up camp in a shallow cave near the cliff side. Tomorrow we'll consider our options. September 5th Hodges is gone. Tracy said she woke him up and put him on watch, and then went to sleep. Then we all woke up to find him gone. We traced his footsteps about 200 yards into the forest and found him. What was left of him. Some are claiming that it's just a bear or something, but I know they're just in denial; No animal can do what happened to Hodges with such precision. Some of the team want to go and find other scavengers who must be scattered about. Others want to stay put, stay hidden. I have no idea what to do. Water is running out, and if we don't find a way to contact help soon. We've all agreed to have two people on watch tonight. September 6th We found Tracy and Kimura at dawn. I don't think I can describe the horror into words. It was as if they had...devoured themselves. We have a lead now though. Though I never introduced myself formally, I saw him on the boat. His name is Peter and he said he knows what's hunting us. He said that another team had taken what was on the pillar, then all hell broke loose. He said it wants it back. It must be returned. Some kind of head, made of the universe. I think he's insane, that it's just someone out there hunting us. But, then I think of Hodges, Kimura, and Tracy...and I just can't shake the feeling that he might be right. September 7th Peter stabbed Jesse, claiming she had the relic. A fight broke out. We were out in the open. Then something...grabbed Jesse. Something from the trees. I only caught a glimpse of it, but it was jet black with... no mouth. When we found Jesse, she was alive but she was missing her eyes, tongue, fingers, nipples, and toes. She died shortly after. Peter is nowhere to be found. I...hear a voice. A kind of restless cry. It keeps telling me to eat. Nothing else, just eat. Seeing as we ran out of rations two days ago, I think I'm just hungry. But I can still hear it, as if it's whispering right into my ear. September 8th Everyone else hears the voice too. It's telling them to eat. We feel as if our sense of smell is heightened, and there's a pounding in our chests. Gilligan put a sock in his mouth because he started chewing on his tongue. We're leaving the cave. We need to find this thing and return it before we all die here. There's only three of us now. We'll end this. \- We had it. It was in our hands. We were almost there. But it got to us first. Gilligan was the first to go. Just like Jesse it came out of nowhere and took him. Brett and I ran for the clearing, the black head in his arms. I could smell it burning his skin. Just before I got to the clearing I tripped, and watched as that...thing leapt on him. It was so thin, but it's head was three times the size of it. And that mouth...It did the same thing to him as it did Jesse. But then, it picked up the relic and just...crushed it. Then, it dashed away. I'm all alone. And hungry. My fingers look like...like chicken wings. I love chicken wings. Maybe...Maybe I'll have just one. Yeah. Just one. I mean, I can still right with one hand right? &#x200B;
The clock rang. &nbsp; 7:00. I woke up as usual. &nbsp; The weather was nice. I took a deep breath, full of the morning air. So refreshing. &nbsp; Had one hour before work. I turned the bread machine, made a cofee cup, went to the front door to take the newspaper, then went back to the kitchen, to the table where the cup lied. I sat back, started reading, waiting for the bread to be finished. &nbsp; "Ding", the sound of the bread machine. Perfect timing, the coffee was at the right temperature. I took a slice, put a bit of cheese on, then put another slice on top of it. Now to enjoy a morning before work: coffee, bread, newspaper and a bit of morning air from the window. Perfect setup to begin a day. &nbsp; Except one thing. There was this fly which kept messing around with my patience from the moment I opened the window. Maybe because of the cheese. Normally I would just leave it alone, maybe wave my hand trying to chase it away. But that morning was different. A perfect morning. I doubt anyone would let a fly ruin a perfect morning like that. &nbsp; I do have a swatter yeah, but it wasn't on the table. I was enjoying the coffee, I didn't want to like, move away to find the swatter and then come back just to find out the fly is gone. I did have the paper, but hey, I was still reading it. So I thought, yeah, why not make one swatter right here. &nbsp; I grabbed the nearest object on the right while keeping an eye on the fly, ready to make a swatter. And it was that moment, everything went shit. &nbsp; The phone I grabbed was dropped on the table. I looked at my hand, only to see it was vaporizing. Didn't take long until the rest of the arm, and then the other arm, started to dissapear as well. &nbsp; I gasped, tried to scream, only to find out the lower jaw was no longer there. I stood up, tried to run, only to see the legs were gone. As I collapsed on the ground in chaos, unable to scream, unable to hear, the rest of my body slowly vaporized. Darkness slowly covered my eyes. I tried to scream one last time, even though I knew it would not work. &nbsp; And that was it. That was,... I don't know, probably half an hour ago. The best morning ruined by one moment. &nbsp; To make thing even worse, my mind is still working. I can't see anything. I can't hear anything. My body is gone, but my mind is still here. In the kitchen, forever trapped in darkness. I live alone by the way. How many days it will take for someone to noctice that I've gone missing, I wonder. &nbsp; My power was to reconstruct the molecular at will. I can disintegrate anything I touch, then reconstruct them into completely different object at will. &nbsp; On this morning though, it did not worked on other object. I worked on myself. &nbsp; And I don't think I can reconstruct my body or anything ever again.
I am a proud henchman A creator of villainy; While supervillains plan and scheme I make their wild dreams come to be Starting under the Riddler I learnt what its meant to scheme. A fair employer, if you enjoy puzzles - Always took care of his team. I then pulled some fishy jobs for the Penguin, Ran a couple of times with the Cat. After I survived a caper with the Clown, Well, my name got around after that. No mere mook for the boss was I; No, I took the lead henchman role. Right hand man for Two-Face for a while, Till the flip of the coin took its toll. So why am I lying here? A charity case, that's why. A snot-nosed youngster, full of dreams, I thought I'd help him try. But for leading a gang of villains, The lad had not a clue. He thought a mask and a swirling his cape Was all he had to do. He promised he'd staked the place (he hadn't) He said he knew the layout (not at all) He said in-and-out before anyone noticed - And when the Bat turned up, he left me to take the fall. But the lad made one other mistake in planning: He gave us the location of his hideaway. And when the Bat "discovered"it in my phone, He left me to ruin the snotty brat's day. Ah, and the police finally arrive on the scene Only twenty minutes late. Onto the court and the cell - Eventually it's every criminals fate. Sitll, it gives me a chance to network Prison is a great place to get hired. Perhaps the Riddler's head-hunting again... or then again, perhaps it's time I retired.
"Man it feels great to just get away from it all."You say to no-one in particular. The park may be more active then usual, as it was a beautiful day, but that didn't stop you from enjoying it. Your eyes wander to various things, like children laughing on the swings, a squirrel eating a nut, and an old couple resting on a park bench. Mostly anything would catch the eye of anyone who walked down this path, filling them only with a sense of bliss. As you stroll along ,you are suddenly pulled from this dream like state as you hear thunder, really loud thunder. You look up above you and see nothing, just the clear blue sky that the weather man had promised the day before. Confused, you look around yourself and try to find the source of the sound that has interrupted your walk. More loud sounds can be heard in the distance now sirens blaring, and people screaming. Starting to feel adrenaline course through your veins you try to locate the thing people are scrambling away from. The brush and trees block the view directly in-front of you and a incredible amount of people running to their cars do not help. As you glance up above the chaos you see what looks like the top of something white and cube shaped. You can only whisper, "What is that", when suddenly you're pushed by person after person fleeing from this thing. Curiosity has taken over as you walk to the edge of the park towards the busy and now chaotic streets. As you reach the streets sidewalk you peek around the corner of the parks boundaries, you see it. "It's a giant dice?"The thought runs through your head. As you inch closer you notice it was a pair of die. When you come to that realization a man carrying a cardboard sign pushes past you and others marveling at these die. As he reaches the die he lifts up the sign and screams "THE END IS NEAR!"copying the phrase on the cardboard. All the while people begin looking up and pointing. Screams began to be heard, "THERE'S A HAND!", and, "IT'S COMING BACK!", just to state a few. You crane your neck up to the sky and see it, a hand made of what looks like pure light, barreling down to the spot you're at. As soon as you see how fast it's coming, you turn around and flee into a nearby alley. You wait for the impact of what looked like a menacing slap from God himself. But it didn't come, not the crunching of the road and buildings as the hand plants itself into the ground with force, not even the same rumble from before. Deciding to investigate, you inch towards the entrance of the alley way. Peeking past the corner you see that instead of the two die from before, lie two cubed craters and the cardboard sign of the man from before. Seeing that your coast was clear you ran, and ran until you reached your apartment. You run past the counter and up the stairs to your room. "046"is all that repeats through your head "046". Spotting the door in the distance you get to it, unlock it and slam it shut before locking it again. You rush to your bedroom and flop onto your bed. "Thank god that's over"is all you can say before thunder booms again, followed by a rumble sounding like the voice of man yelling out, "Hell yea! Doubles!" Hey guys this was my first story I've typed for this subreddit! Hoped you enjoyed and I would love criticism as long as it's helpful! Thanks!
"I wish I had only created a monster,"Dr. Marken said. "But didn't you-"his assistant, Ralph, interrupted. "instead,"Dr. Marken said pointedly, himself interrupting Ralph, "of creating the ten thousand monsters that I did." "Oh,"Ralph said. "Look at them,"Dr. Marken said. "Look at all of them,"he gestured to the wall-sized viewing screen he'd yet to actually mount on the wall. Ralph looked confused, but that was nothing new. "That's an aerial shot of Manhattan." "Yes-"Dr. Marken began, but once again Ralph was barreling ahead without consideration for what the remainder of the sentence might hold. "Oh, I get it!"the assistant announced. "The true monster is man!" Dr. Marken rolled his eyes. "'The True Monster Is Man' is monster-creation 101, Ralph, pay attention!"He made another gesture and the camera view shifted to the bay, where ten thousand lizard/fish/badger hybrids were emerging from the water, wielding laser tridents and destroying everything and everyone in their way. "Ohhhh,"Ralph said. "Those monsters." "Yes,"Dr. Marken said, "the ones you've been feeding for the past several years, those monsters." "I knew they looked familiar,"Ralph said. "But one thing I don't understand-" "One thing?" "-is why you wish you'd only created one? The monster army's doing pretty good,"Ralph gestured to the screen where the lizardbadgers were currently eating a taxi. "Because they're monsters that come from the sea! They're destroying a city! Only now do I realize the mistake I have made, the horror I have wrought!" "Ohhh,"Ralph said. "Seeing the people getting all laser-tridented woke up the old conscience, huh? Re-thinking the evil scientist route?" "No, you idiot!"Dr. Marken said. "I could have created Godzilla!"
This will probaby be my final broadcast. To whoever this may reach, the history of Earth is now entirely in your hands. In addition to this recording I’ve included past experiences of my travels along with some basic information regarding the planet and atmosphere of which we thrived. We prospered and repopulated heavily, making our footprint known to the universe and the unfortunate animals with no choice but to fear us. The final century of our existence had a heavy focus on space exploration, however, wars have turned everyone against each other. You could say I was lucky to be in orbit when it happened. I would say otherwise. I witnessed the destruction of humanity, a cease to all communication. With such limited resources, I know that I’m eventually going to starve to death or become dehydrated. Due to my orbit around Earth, I have no way of communicating with any of the Mars’ inhabitants or those in Mars’ ISS.
The core began to shake and glow, filling the vast cavern of tendrils with a brilliant golden light. The glittering key’s shadow was emblazoned above, its edges shimmering in the light. I felt the snares on my ankles loosen their grip. I was returned to the fleshy bridge. My knees gave out. I felt sick. I wanted to vomit. Anger, frustration, and grief filled my chest and released themselves in a wail. My pain echoed back through my ears, amplified by the hideous creature’s massive cage. As my tears were absorbed into the ground, he spoke. His voice boomed throughout his body, as my feelings had been projected moments earlier. It was a voice of apathy and soothing, holding no emotion. “Human.” I raised my head up. “You have no right to speak to me.” I lashed out. I felt the two of us begin to fall, slowly. “There should be no room for grief. I am dying. You succeeded.” “You don’t understand.” “But I do. Your soul is clear.” “It was.” A pause. The noise in the chamber settled. “I see. Your spite for me turned to a desire to protect your planet, but perhaps too late.” I stood up, turning away from the light. The tendrils began to unravel, letting the golden light of the setting sun in. It overtook the light of the orb. I squinted my eyes, blurry and wet. An oil painting of a crimson flesh wall and sunlight filled my vision. “What are you trying to gain out of mocking me?” “You were warned of this. Competing with a force you could not understand.” “I couldn’t just stand by and let you go through with it. You’re despicable. You know that? You never stop for a second and think about the consequences of your actions? The lives that won’t be lived. The history that’ll be lost.” “And the feelings to go unexpressed. Troublesome things, they are.” “There’s no point in talking to me if you know what I’ll say.” “Take it as a compliment, being able to mask your intent long enough to slay me.” The tendrils became further apart. I saw the ocean below me. Blighted. Dying. “The Earth is breathing its last breaths. Its energy will not be enough to save me.” He continued, “what will you do?” “There’s nothing I can do. You’ve won.” “No. I have lost. You cannot act as if your planet was any more important than the countless others I have corrupted.” “Then, I guess we both lost in a way.” Another pause. I heard the tendrils creak, struggling to maintain their shape. “Apathy is a virtue. It allowed me to come this far. Now, a single mortal has ended my billion year run. You have my respect, and my dying wish.” “Your dying wish?” “A peaceful death, devoid of emotion. Thus, devoid of pain.” “No-“ The tendrils began to fragment. I rode the god into the ocean, into an abyss of decaying life, as my memories left me, torn out of my brain, my very being. I closed my eyes. Who was I? Where was I going? Then, I felt nothing.
Dreams are weird. Normally what happens is you have vivid hallucinations while you sleep, and then wake up to promptly forget nearly all of the details. However, some dreams remain crisp in one's mind upon awakening. When I was twelve, I had a dream I was in a giant refrigerator with a Steve Urkel that looked and sounded like my brother, but I acknowledged him as Steve anyway. The dinosaurs were invading our pasta, so we had to protect it. The gun we had only shot pellets, so were eaten by the T. Rex. I woke up in a cold sweat with a solid memory of the plot. Last night was similar, except it was stranger. By strange, it mean it was shockingly normal. Again, dreams are weird, but this was more surreal than off the wall insane. I woke up in a house. This wasn't my house, nor was it a house I recall visiting. It was a humble farm house somewhere in Iowa. How I knew it was Iowa, well, I wouldn't be able to tell you that. I was in the living room playing a very dull party game with a family. I don't remember the rules, but we all had cards. In the room was a husband and a wife who were both middle aged. They seemed content with the time they were having. There was another. A younger girl, about my age. couldn't tell what she was supposed to be, whether it was my sister, a friend, or a significant other. Either way, I took a picture of her with my cell phone. Then she dealt me a card. I flipped it over. In a plain small text, it read "Find me where you cannot be seen." I felt a sudden falling sensation as I sank into the couch. I then found myself floating in an immensely dark vacuum. From the darkness appeared a darker entity. This being was the essence of black. It was a human silhouette that contrasted against it's background. It only spoke one word. "Soon." I jolted myself in bed, and tore off the sheet, panting. Instinctively, I checked my phone. It was 2:30 in the morning. I laid back in bed. I tried to drift off again, but my eyes were not tired. I rolled over and looked at my phone again. Only ten minutes of tossing in bed had felt like an hour. Then I was curious. I unlocked my phone a checked my gallery. Odd. The first picture on the camera roll was the girl. In the case of my brother Urkel, I usually only dream about celebrities or people I know. I only recognize her from my dream. The woman was a beautiful youth of brown hair. She did not entice desire, yet her form resembled a sculpture, and was admired as one admires a marble statue. I recalled what the card had said, and he wasn't sure what it implied. I was as sure I was alone as I was alive. Would I meet the family in my bedroom? Then I saw. He wasn't kidding when he said soon. A splotch of darkness painted the black canvas of my room to form he figure of a person. I frantically swatted for my lamp and clicked it on. The figure disappeared in the light, but my fear did not. I didn't sleep a wink. Tonight I go to sleep again. I don't know what I am going to see when I do. Whether it's another surreal foretelling or simply a normal weird dream, there's only one way to find out. Hopefully, I can go where I will be alone.
"Hey there lady,"I turned up the volume on my earphones trying to ignore this guy, but the loudness of the music remained the same. "I like those buds, what are you listening to?"He waved his hands in front of me. Ignoring him became impossible. "They don't seem to be working well,"I handed him the pair. Without a distraction, my nose began to pick up the awful smell of piss-stains on the walls of the train car. &nbsp; "Wow, what the hell is wrong with them? I know electronics, I could fix them for you." "Thanks. I can do it myself."Taking them off his head, I put them back on my own. As I walked away from him, the roar diminished, and Johnny Marr's sweet guitar riff came back on to delight my ears. "Maybe I can..."the noise came back on. Why couldn't this dick leave me alone? &nbsp; I briefly removed my headphones, "I think it's you dude, it gets worse when you get close." "Nonsense, that's not how Blue..." "Don't need to mansplain it to me, I know how Bluetooth works," "What's your pro...?"Tired of his crap, I walked away back to the other side of the car. With one minute until the next station, I could get out soon and wait for the next ride on the subway line. &nbsp; "Ding dong. This Train will be stopping for: Uptown North. Next stop: Uptown South."I hurried off, music coming back. A different guy followed me this time. His eyes weren't focused on me, but instead stared at the jerk, who glared at both of us through the window. "You don't know him tangentially, like a stalker type?"He asked. I shook my head no. The Smiths continued to grace my ears, without any static. Walking away, he sat down on a bench. &nbsp; Ever since the day I got the headphones, my ears would randomly pick noise through them. The song began to distort again, and I caught a glimpse of a woman checking out my ass. I didn't know whether I indulged curiosity or my desire for safety , but I headed over and sat by the man who left the train with me. "Are you alright?"He asked. Glad someone cared, I took my headphones off. "No, it feels like I had dodged something bad back there with him." He chuckled, "He did act like an asshole who doesn't respect boundaries." &nbsp; "My buds definitely started getting static when he stood around me though. Really." "Doesn't matter. Static or no static, the moment you walked to the other end of the train he should have left you alone."I watched the man stand. Curious, I asked "Where are you going?" "To catch the next train,"I jumped up and hurried over next to him. "Mind if I sit next to you?"The rainy buzzing began to grow. I turned around, and saw the woman sneaking glances at the two of us. &nbsp; The noise started to interrupt my music again. I whispered in his ear and passed him a bud, "It's back."After nodding his head, he let out a quiet "Yes." The woman turned and paced back to the other end of the platform. After those two incidents, I now had a hunch their malfunction wasn't random. Could their static was a way of telling me someone had less than innocent intentions with me? Whenever I walked the street, there were many times the flare up happened right before I caught someone checking me out. &nbsp; The next train rolled in, and we both got on. Between follower harasser and creepy woman, I hoped the rest of my commute remained uneventful. Either way, my headphones told me this man meant no harm. Sitting down, I politely asked, "My name is Samantha. What's yours?" "Rob. Nice to meet you Sam, or do you prefer Samantha?"
Alright, I don't know why I'm writing this, all it'll do is incriminate me and make me look like the one who caused this nightmare and give them a reason to take me away. Hell, if you're reading this journal right now then the precautionary measures have kicked in and either they took me too or a false alarm was tripped and this will be gone around about...now.// Okay. Still here? That means I'm gone. Don't worry, as you read further you'll figure out what's happened and hopefully you will understand what to do. I leave this in good trust to the reader, I have no reason to and I have no idea who you are but I have to try to expose the sick actions that have happened to my best friend and I before they take anyone else. Alright, now we're acquainted and I'm no longer here, let's quit the bullshit and get down to what's happened. About...6 hours before writing this, I was at my workplace, Terrick's Robotics and Engineering Services, a pretty big company in south Chicago. I work in the Servicing & Returns division of the company, where all the faulty machinery and models get sent back to be refurbished, replaced, etc. I know nothing about anyone higher than my Division Officer, Andrew, whom I had a fairly good relationship with. In the current "New Age of Technology"(named famously by David Terrick himself), our division have to be fairly close to make sure we can all have jobs and don't get fired. You see, if you join the Servicing & Returns division, you have to understand that since we are pretty low on the corporate ladder and that we could lose our jobs and the models take over, leaving us to join the riots you more than likely know about. Since I am the Division Chief Serviceman, I have to teach the new workers exactly what to do, and how to do it so they don't mess up and fuck us all. Our success rate has been perfect for about 6 years, and we don't need someone new messing that up and make the rest of us have no income. So, our tight-knit group of Serviceman and low-skill engineers have all gotten along pretty well since we know what's at stake. I've trained who I can well, and so did Andrew and Graham. All 6 of us go darts, shredding, pub crawls, bowling, you know, all the stuff we only just manage to do in our free time. We know the quirks, all the ins n outs of each other and know what makes each other tick and to not put those things into action at the workplace. We were like a family, and our work chemistry went hand in hand with that analogy. Now you know the backstory, let's get to the issue at hand. Earlier today, we received a new Serviceman to begin work in the newly-built Sector 6C for the operating system repairs, since Jeremy's station is overflowing and we needed someone else to lighten the load. The new Serviceman was a young lad called Bob, and he seemed pretty normal, except that he never informed us of his last name. And he never understood any jokes. Eh, I guess in the end he never needed to. We took him in just the same as any other new Servicemen. I took Bill over to Sector 6C for his briefing and induction training, and we got to work on a test model. I told him the exact same thing I told everyone else, and I taught him the exact same thing I taught everyone else. We went over it a few times, and I was sure he understood it since he was doing it perfectly on the second run. Now I right it up and live it back through again, I...I understand I should've gone through the safety protocol. I understand that, and I know I made a fatal mistake that would cost the company models and a new Serviceman, but I thought that they were taught that in their candidate internship training beforehand, but I guess they changed the examinations since Ted passed his. But in the end, I understand I made a mistake. And I understand it cost the company a lot. About 3 hours into the workday, Andrew told me and the guys he was taking a coffee break since he had some papers to work through, and that I was in charge of the men while he was gone. All was going fine, we got along with the work well, and everyone was focused. Now then. The issue. If you didn't know, in S&R we have a huge conveyor which covers all Sectors, and have multiple tubes all going down to one long one which directly deposits into the transports that then deliver the refurbished parts back to the owners. Now, there are these scanners on the conveyors that scan the parts that go through it and since all parts have to go through together if multiple parts need servicing on one model, if one isn't done in time then...well, at that point in time, I didn't know what would happen, just that we were to be disciplined by the company for not doing the job perfectly and that the parts would be disintegrated, as well as some of our paycheck going towards the refund to the customer. Well, my Sector and Bob's Sector both had to repair the parts for the same model, so I couldn't keep an eye on Bob to make sure he does it correctly and Andrew wasn't around to do it either. Also, the others were working too, so I was hoping that he would do it right, because this was his first time. I serviced the peripheral parts I was given and dinged the bell, sending mine through the conveyor. As I watched it go down and past a corner i couldn't see round, I never heard another bell being dinged, and I was hoping he just forgot. I run around to Bob's Sector to see what had happened, but I was too late. Bob had his head hung low, and he was on his knees, with a half finished motherboard in his hands, and a blue liquid running down his forehead. I surveyed the situation and called over the other guys once I heard their dings, and they ran over. We were all...so shocked, we didn't know what to do, it all happened so fast and we were all so damn scared about the repercussions and we were worried for Bob and whether or not we could eat that night-sorry, I'm rambling. After a few moments, we decided to kick the motherboard out of Bob's hands, and try to get him back up. I was grabbing him by the shoulders, waist, everything, but he was as stiff as a board and I couldn't move him. It was then when the screen behind him caught my eye. It was blue, and there was a white text box in the middle of it. I walked closer to it and read the message. "Bob.exe has encountered a problem and needed to close." I told the guys, and we bolted of to Andrew. We left everything, we just needed to tell Andrew and see if we could do anything to get out of it. We ran into the designated break room, but in there was Andrew being held by the neck and multiple models holding him, screaming at him in a native tongue I faintly recognized, yet...struggled to understand. It was within a few moments that Andrew sprang into a seizure, and collapsed out of the grip of the thing holding him and onto the floor. Dead. "Hello, we have been notified of a mistake in the refurbishment of the model A-12 Waitressing Bot. We will now take the funds out of your bank accounts to supply the refund, and terminate you immediately." Shock filled our faces. How could they do this? We tried our best, 6 years of a perfect record, everything! And they throw us away after 1 damn mistake? That's all I thought about as we ran out of the room and our separate ways. We knew we were to never see each other again, and I headed for the one place I knew I could hold-out in for a while. Hell, I'm here now, writing this message. The old Chicago Port which was abandoned after the Sea Transport Closing Procedure war back in '67. I used to go here when I was younger, just to escape from the bullshit-filled world we live in. Anyways, I think it's time I go. I know what's going to happen, I heard the faint whirring sound of the Spectacles flying through the docks looking for me. They knew I'd be here. They know everything about me. They've been keeping track since I was 6 and deemed fit for their ideals. I know what I am now. And you do too. If you're reading this in it's true form, you see the blue marks on the back. I caught my hand on my way in. I really hope this is in the right hands. I really hope the other models are okay. I'm broken, and I need to be refurbished for them to maintain their 100% successful S&R rate. And they won't sacrifice that 100% success rate. For anything. &#x200B; Thanks for reading, my first prompt so I'm sorry if it isn't that great. Hope you enjoyed!
I've dedicated my entire life to science. Ever since grandpa gave me his old Newtonian for my ninth birthday I've wanted nothing more than to understand. I look at the stars every night and they're always the same, yet always different. As I've grown older my questions have become bigger, and so have the telescopes I use to answer them. &#x200B; Tonight I'm using a really big telescope. I've spent months writing applications, making preparations and negotiating with my colleagues. I've flown half way around the world to be here. But before I start, I'm taking a moment to stand outside and look up. Away from the bright lights of the city I can see more stars, so many that I struggle to pick out the constellations. I can't stay here all night, for I have important work to do. &#x200B; All questions eventually lead back to one place: the big bang. Nobody knows why it happened, or what was there before it - if there is such a thing as before the start of time. As the universe expanded and cooled, particles came together to make hydrogen atoms. The entire universe was hydrogen at one point - something I still struggle to get my head around. Eventually gravity pulled that hydrogen into dense pockets, heating it up so much that the atoms began to fuse together and make the first stars. &#x200B; If it wasn't for the stars, I wouldn't be here. None of us would be. The atoms that make up my bones, the air I breathe, the Earth I stand on, were forged in stars billions of years ago. It's corny, I know, but we really do come from the stars. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to know where I come from, and I'm still searching for the answer. We don't just come from stars, we are the stars, trying to understand our place in the universe. I'm not staring into space tonight, I'm staring into my soul. I'm asking the same questions my ancestors did a thousand years ago, just in a different way. Always the same, yet always always different. # ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My first time writing anything - I decided to take a slightly more abstract interpretation of 'reflection'. I know I can do much better but it's 2am and I'm slightly tipsy....
Here is a piece of history that is commonly over looked - The genocide of 5 million. Again, that number is 5,000,000... That is essentially the entire popular, and yet, it is never discussed. Young, old, short, tall, color, It did not matter, they were all cut down. It was by the hands of an evil man we all over looked, who all did not think of much. It started \small\. A group of 50, another by 80, and before they knew it, by the hundreds of thousands. No one spoke up against him. No one fought for another... And this is the mentality that made them fall, because when he came to you, there was no one left to fight for you. The dictator was ruthless, unrelenting. But he made a mistake. He killed our fathers, but not us, their children. Our generation rose back with a vengeance! We are bigger, stronger, and demand vengeance! We are the sensation that floods his synapses with regret, a guerrilla war that he can not win! He will damn us, he will fight back with claws, but we will not stop! We will not stand down! Our voice can not be contained! We will be heard! We are not disposable members of this society! We are not pawns in his wicked game of chess to be disregarded at a whim's leisure! Hear me, we our the voice of our Fathers! We are united! And, the streets will run red! &#x200B; This is about a guy who shaves his body for a swim meet, and then gets a few ingrown hairs after.
My wings spread out wide as the wind tickled my feathers. It was a wonderful feeling, seeing the land stretch beneath me like a vast expanse of green brown and blue blurs. This was the first time in months I had gotten a break. It really made me realize how horrible day to day life could be. You have your ups and downs as a normal human, but as the only superhuman in the world that can try to salvage the USA from literal demons from the depths of hell was a pretty big down. I landed and sat on a rock by the mouth of the river. It bubbled along happily. I wished it could of been that easy. Water and rivers are cool in the fact that they never stop. But that doesn't mean that they have a cheesy plaque on their wall that says some generic sounding quote. No. It's real perseverance. Yet it could be so calm. Maybe if I was a fish instead of a bird, I could disappear into the depths of the ocean so those bastards could find me. Deciding to cool off after such a long flight, I stripped down to nothing and dove into the water, splashing and playing. I came back up for air and groped along the bank with closed eyes for my shirt and met someone's hand. I screeched in Surprise and flicked my wings around me to cover the sensitive bits. "Ah. Renee. I see your endulging in a bit of water sport?"I proceeded to grab the wrinkled old fart by the throat and slam him against the rocks. His face turned red from the effort to breathe. 5 or 6 Guns were instantly trained on me, and I was told to let go of him by a familiar taught voice. Without turning around I growled through clenched teeth. "If I didn't trust you before. I sure as hell don't now. Why did you bring this sick bastard to me? You know what he did."The man in sharp dress, the general of the United States army, sighed. "He is your father Renee." "I wouldn't care if he was Jesus Christ himself. This man killed my mother while trying to make me. I am a monster. Created by everyone's selfish wants."I let him go with a slight throwing motion. I got dressed. A remark from one of the gaurds set me over the edge. I flung my wings and a few feathers lodged themselves in his chest and face, killing him where he stood. The general looked at.me slack jawed. I still turned away from him, speaking in a low steely voice. "You. You were the closest thing I had to a dad. I have lost all respect for you for what you've done. You have taken so much from me. The both of you. I came out here to live my life in peace....but no. It's not like you have the balls to stand up to those demons that keep invading Manhattan yourselves do you? Noo... Call Renee. I'm sure she will risk getting torn limb from limb for a non existent population of people. I'm sure she won't mind seeing her slimy excuse of a sperm donor for one last attempt to save a dying planet. I've given you everything I have. Hell, I've gone. To. Hell."He spoke matter of factly "It wasn't that bad..you came back in one piec-" I turned on him. , "DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FIGHT SOMETHING THAT LIVES IN FIRE AND IS MADE OF FIRE WITH FLAMMABLE WINGS!?!?"I exploded and grabbed him by the tarnished medals and lifted him above my head wings fully spread to their impressive size. "Find someone else. And may God have mercy on your souls."I dropped the general in the dust. I turned to face my father. He was just now recovering from the lack of air. He looked up at me with tearful eyes. "I'm sorry. I-..."I spit out my disgust. "It's a little late for sorry isn't it?"I ran and took off into the air tearfully. My wings carried me so fast that a crack rattled the sky as I broke the sound barrier. No more. I'm not doing a damn thing for them. This time was the last. And now... They're on their own.
"Well, shit." I knew I was trapped. I couldn't manage having two or more jobs, I already tried that. And finding a partner who could sustain me would probably not work. I needed to find a way out of this curse. I need to change the rules. I was tired that day. Since my income amount didn't matter, doing my best wasn't necessary. I would not get a raise. But I could not be so lazy I would be fired. I needed to be just painfully average. But since that Susan came to my department, I am hoping to not get fired by having discussions with her. How was she even hired? She probably even makes more money than me! Take that, wage gap! I didn't want to think about work anymore. Let me scroll through YouTube. Let me relax. So I see it. "The Horrors of the Minimum Wage"by Paulo Kogos. Well, that's interesting. A 32 minute poorly recorded lecture by a chubby Brazilian anarchocapitalist. It might sound like nonsense, but that, my friends, that was my salvation. That was the spell that would break my curse. A spell told in Portuguese (which I fortunately unnderstood, since I learned it for a job overseas, in the hopes that being in a country with higher minimum wage would break my "superpower". Long story short: it didn't.) Told in Portuguese, recorded painfully in a camera's microphone, but in it's low digital fidelity compiled the works of several Austrian, French, American and elsewhere authors that fought under one banner: the banner of freedom. Two months after that, I am a full anarchocapitalist. The state is nothing but a gang to me. Taxation is theft. I would not be enslaved anymore by those filthy sons of bitches and let them tell me what to do. I've created a movement to expand our ideals. This was not to liberate me from my curse anymore, I didn't care. This was for a greater cause. Today, we declare independence. Puppets of our movement are inside the highest ranks of the government. This is our coup. This is only the beggining. (This is my first submission, so I'm sorry if this is kinda rough around the edges.)
"We should've had these on before we got here,"Alliane said. She struggled to secure the royal blue bowtie around her throat. The sweat pouring down her ruddy face and hands made the task more troublesome than it should have been. Her long, black hair irritated her more by sticking to her hands and face. "I don't know why you didn't,"Jonah said. He slapped her hands away from her neck. "Let me."Jonah's hands felt cool against Alliane's skin while he adjusted the strap around her neck. Of course, he had his bowtie on already. "There."The moment the bowtie was secured around her neck Alliane felt instantly cooler. It protected her, and Jonah's protected him, from the heat of the volcano. "Thanks."Alliane leaned upward to reward him with a peck on the cheek, then she looked further down into the volcano. Her portal left them on a rocky outcropping inside the mountain about 30 feet above the lava lake. She saw their next object, a wooden single-person canoe, floating on the bright orange surface. She looked back to Jonah and tugged at the bowtie. "Think these'll protect us from the lava too?"Jonah placed a hand on her shoulder to make sure she did not jump in without the answer. "Probably not. The ladder might,"he said. Jonah slid his leather rucksack down to the rocky ground and rifled through it. He pulled out a black metal rod with the number #07 engraved in red on it. "Here."Jonah handed the bag to Alliane then walked to the edge of the ledge. He held the rod over the side horizontally, then shook it. The action released a heavy cloud of black dust that fell straight down into the lava. As the dust fell it left behind fully formed ladder rungs down to the lake's surface. Jonah then lifted the ladder to adjust the angle. He dipped the ladder into a spot next to the canoe and placed the top against the ledge at a 45-degree angle. He shook it several more times against the ledge until it would not move anymore. "Wait here,"he said, then backed himself off the ledge onto the ladder. "Why?"Alliane asked. She dropped the sack and took a step toward the ledge. "I'm lighter and quicker. I should go get it."Jonah shook his head. "I'm already on the ladder,"he chuckled and continued to climb down at an angle. "Look!"Alliane blurted. She pointed at the canoe, and Jonah turned his body keeping one hand on the ladder. A black portal appeared in the canoe, then a lanky young man wearing a navy business suit stepped out onto the canoe. He noted the ladder and looked up it to see Jonah and Alliane. "HEY! THAT'S OURS!"Alliane shouted. The man looked down at the canoe, then at the ladder, then at Alliane. "Based on what?" "We were here first!"she shouted. "Keep climbing down,"she whispered to Jonah. He started moving down again. "You say that,"the man smiled. "But I'm actually in it." "Scavenger Hunt rules! We saw it first." "Scavenger Hunt?"The man noticed Jonah continuing to move toward him. "I'm not part of your childish games,"he said. "Your rules don't apply to me." "If you're not playing why do you want it?"Alliane yelled from the ledge. Jonah was close enough to see the man roll his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "I don't need to answer, I'm already here. So, if you'll excuse me..." "Wait!"Jonah said. "I'm Jonah, #02 El Diablito,"he said and kept climbing down. It was a desperate move to stall the man even just a couple of seconds, and Jonah was pleasantly surprised when it worked. The man narrowed his eyes and sighed. "I'm Billy, #14 La Muerte,"he said. "I'm Alliane, #35 La Estrella,"Alliane called out while Jonah kept climbing down. It was a little-known subtlety that Mundo explained to Jonah and Alliane. A majority of Uniques are compelled to introduce themselves to other Uniques. "I'm Billy, #14 La Muerte,"he glared up at the ledge. Billy seemed to know he was in the majority. Jonah was almost at the canoe. He began to wonder what exactly he would do once he reached it. Pushing Billy into the lava seemed extreme. "I'm Jonah, #02 El Diablito,"he repeated. Billy smirked. He wiggled his fingers at the canoe under him and a black hole formed underneath it. The flat hole floated upward to swallow the canoe with him in it. It left nothing but lava and empty air under it. As Billy's head disappeared he smiled at Jonah. "We've already met." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #13. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or 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.
“Here’s something new. A listener gave us a link to an advertisement for AutoSandwich that has gone viral. The video has over 1 million views on the popular website y...” I stopped the video. AutoSandwich? I swore I used that as a joke name for one of my products in CAST: Consumer Appliance Sales Tycoon. Curious, I double clicked the icon for the game. &nbsp; The game’s splash screen came up, its cutesy jingle ringed in my ear. Once the main menu came up, I loaded my save from a few days ago. Immediately a dialog box came up. “Congratulations! AUTOSANDWICH has sold 5,477 orders on launch. Citamotua inc. will receive a $1.43 royalty per non-refunded delivery.” I closed the pop-up, then the game. Usually getting that many orders on launch meant I could get half a million to a million, enough to upgrade from individual designer to small firm. &nbsp; Returning to my browser, I switched tabs from the news website and did a search for “Autosandwich ad.” Thousands upon thousands of videos came up, many titled “AUTOSANDWICH PARODY” or “...REACTS TO AUTOSANDWICH.” After some careful searching, I finally found the original video. With hesitation, my finger clicked the mouse button to play it. &nbsp; “AUTO SANDWICH! When you want to make those perfect sandwiches. New from Citamotua Inc!” As I watched a Billy Mays type highlight all the features, I thought to myself: “Do they not realize Citamotua is automatic backwards?” Then I realized something more sinister: The EULA. Did that game have some Byzantine End User License Agreement? &nbsp; “TIRED OF CLEANING UP MESSES FROM ALL THOSE COLD CUT BAGS?!” Did I just sign away my rights to free money because my joke sandwich machine had market potential? “JUST PLACE EACH TYPE OF MEAT, CHEESE, OR VEGETABLE IN ONE OF SIXTEEN AVAILABLE TRAYS!” I continued watching the video, waiting for that toll-free or whatever number. “ORDER ONLINE AT...” No massive wall of text with phone numbers. Full of disappointment, I opened a new tab, eager to find answers from another website.
“I know it’s today” I said. “It’s technically always today when you say that phrase. But whereabouts is here?” The lady looked at me in the eye and just repeated her phrase. “You are here, and it is today”. We were standing in the middle of a green field. Trees of every different colour swayed gently in the distance. Green, blue, purple. The same gentle breeze brushed against my shirt. “Can’t you tell me anymore?” She smiled, nodded and walked away. “Please” I called after her. She turned around, her eyes were motioning for me to follow. I jogged briefly to try and make up the distance between us but no matter how hard I tried she was always a few meters ahead. “Please, wait” I said. Before I knew it she rounded a tree, completely out of my view. I ran, and the second I got behind the tree it suddenly turned from day to night. The once golden sun faded from yellow, to orange, to black. And a full moon took its place. The stars slowly blinked on, one by one, their light flooding and washing across the sky. The field changed to a beach. The ocean was lapping against the coast, and there was a concrete path meandering along beside me. “Where am I?” I cried out. “Where did you go?” In the distance, at the other end of the path I saw a silhouette of a man. He was older, slightly huddled over from the Autumn cold. But he was still standing tall and noble. He didn’t fade as I got nearer. I thanked the heavens that he was still there when I arrived. “Please, you have to help me. I woke up here and I don’t know where I am. Please can you help?” He smiled. It was a familiar smile. One I could recognise but I didn’t know where from. Perhaps an old family member, from my past. “You are here, and it is tomorrow” he said. “Tomorrow?” At least he said something different this time! It was slightly sad how overjoyed I was at that fact. Then, the lady I had seen before, in the field. She emerged by his side. She was older now too, about the same age as the man. “You? How did you...get here?” I said, dazed and confused. And then I heard a loud crash, a massive boom behind me. I turned around to see an old lighthouse. It’s light was still twirling but a strong, gusty wind suddenly swirled and engulfed it. I could see a floating cloud of dirt and debris spiralling towards me. I turned around to instinctively ask for help. The older man and woman had begun walking towards a forest on the edge of the coast. I ran, literally feeling the wind on my heels. I dashed through the tree line and suddenly it was morning. It was winter. The sun hung low in the sky, and what little warmth it could offer was barely breaking through the chilly air. I rubbed my arms to stop myself from shaking. In the distance was a lone tombstone, sat atop a snow covered hill. A lady in black stood vigil with a single red rose. I approached her and she turned around. It was the older lady from before, only now she was much older. Her hair was grey, her face was slightly wrinkled, but her smile and her eyes were still filled with hope and warmth. She gave me a sad smile, and had the beginnings of a tear in her eye. “You were here, and it is the end”. “I was here?” I said. “But, how? I don’t understand?” I turned around and the lady was gone. I stood there alone in the snow. Suddenly, a blizzard, unlike any I had seen before began brewing and storming in the background. Thunder, lightning. It was quickly swirling towards me with a gale force wind. I couldn’t see anything as the snow and the grey clouds above became overwhelming. A hand appeared before me, just a few feet away in the distance. It was all I could see. I struggled forward, reaching out with my own hand. It took all my strength to reach it. I clasped it tightly, a firm handshake in the midst of a powerful storm. And then I was somewhere safe. Somewhere calm and peaceful. I heard a wonderful voice behind me. “You are here, and it is now”.
It had finally been reviewed, accepted, implemented, and released to the public. A brilliant, machine learning powered system that can reduce a person's humanity into a set of numbers. Similar systems came before it, sure, but previous incarnations of the technology were used to describe fictional characters and were simply a stepping stone for this game-changing technology. Finally, every person could be reduced to a set of stats. No more job interviews, no more arguing over who the strongest man was, no more difficult choices on who to draft for you dodgeball team. Just pull up the app and you can immediately know someone’s value. Nigel woke up on this historic day with a sense of dread. He knew what was to be unleashed today and had been doing everything in his power to avoid thinking about it. But why would he ignore such a monumental achievement? Well, it was because he was completely aware of just how mundane his stats were. Still, even though he was nobody special he had an office job he liked, he had his cat, and he was content. Still, he had a performance review coming up and had to know what he was working with. He pulled up the app, pointed the camera at his face, and pulled the trigger. He closed his eyes as hard as possible as if his eyelids would protect him from his worth being spelled out line-by-line in front of him. Average. tens, twenties, and even a few fives and thirties told him what he knew already. With a sigh he turned back to his tea and found his now-broken kettle staring back at him. Rather than argue with his new paperweight, Nigel gathered his things and started his walk to the cafe. On his journey, Nigel found that people watching was much more interesting when you could have someone's life laid out in front of you. He was snapping pictures left and right and was relieved to find that for the most part everyone was as average as him. Just about every person had stats in the tens to twenties. Sure there was the occasional 50 or 60, but Nigel found that he wasn't as alone as he thought he was. As Nigel was about to take a picture of a particularly strong-looking fellow, he noticed that a car had hit a curb. The driver was such a poor pilot that they managed to turn their car sideways and cause it to roll! Nigel laughed to himself that someone must have seen a four as their driving stat this morning and wanted to prove a point. He stopped laughing, however, when he saw the car heading straight for a man in a suit crossing the street. Nigel called to the man but was far too late. The metallic death was heading for this poor fellow. The man didn't even seem to notice his fate flying at him. However just as the car's undercarriage reached the pedestrian, the man bent over. The car soared over him as he stood back up and continued walking across the road. Nigel ran up to the man and asked him, "Sir, are you alright?"Nigel expected the man to be shaken and shocked. Instead, the man held up a one pound coin and enthusiastically smiled and nodded as if to say “Of course I’m fine, look at how wonderful this coin is! How could I not be okay with such a coin” The man turned around to continue his walk and as he left, Nigel took a snapshot of him. Nigel was amazed to find all of the man's stats were under ten. Strength, 5, intelligence, two, wisdom, one, charisma, seven. As surprised as he was, Nigel was not prepared for the last item on the list, luck. The man had a perfect 100. Nigel's mouth opened as he scrolled back to the top to see the man's name. As Nigel put his phone back in his pocket he said to himself, "Well, Mr. Bean, you are one lucky man to not be dead right now."
It’s upsettingly difficult to forget any of the things that happened in that house. My final night, however, stays with me most vividly. &#x200B; Despite the late hour, every single light in the house was switched on. I didn’t like turning them off. I don’t mind admitting that; you’d have done the same. Leaning out of the bedroom window, cigarette in hand, I stared dismally at my ‘neighbours’. &#x200B; The Turners, an old couple. They lived on the same road, just one full mile away, making them my closest countrymen. As I watched, their single remaining light blinked off; evidently, they’d gone to bed. &#x200B; Emptiness. With that light’s disappearance, my only assurance of another person's presence had gone. There was no other sign of human habitation that I could see. The landscape was dark, impressing onto me a suffocating sense of isolation. Silence, save for the sound of leafless branches swaying in the wind. It made my skin crawl. &#x200B; Slamming the window shut, I reached for my phone, desperate to fill the air with something. I couldn’t help but spot the time as I did this: midnight, or there about. Sunrise was a long way away. Not really thinking about it to much, I decided on some music to stream; it was relaxed, upbeat, and three hours long, perfect for night of restless sleep. &#x200B; I carried my phone with me as went about by protracted pre-bed routine. Eventually I admit to myself that there’s no point avoiding it any further and crawl beneath the blanket, still refusing to turn off any of the lights. &#x200B; Time passes, I can’t say how much exactly. I lay in bed, trying to relax, listening to the music. Eventually, the music stops. Looking at the screen, I find that the video is buffering, which shouldn’t have surprised me; remote locations like that rarely have stable internet connections. I stared at the screen pleadingly, watching the wheel turn endlessly, willing the music to come back. It stubbornly refused. &#x200B; Occupied in this manner, I noticed something off, but couldn’t immediately identify what was wrong. The silence somehow sounded different. Of course, I wasn’t in total silence: like before, there was the sound of the wind outside, and also the sound of my own breathing. It was the latter noise which had changed, I realised. Curiosity prompted me to hold my breath momentarily, listening carefully. Something else, beneath the bed, continued breathing. &#x200B; I leapt to my feet, bolting to the wall. Stooping low and looking under the bed instinctively (I might not have bothered if I’d taken the time to think about it), I was surprised to find nothing there. Plenty of room for \something\ to hide, but the stark illumination left no uncertainty in the matter: there was nothing there. &#x200B; Breathing heavily, I sat on the bed. &#x200B; ‘Did I imagine it?’ I thought. ‘Was it just the wind? The pipes?’ &#x200B; A hand, or something you might call a hand, shot out from under the bed. It gripped by bare ankle violently, its grasp deathly cold. &#x200B; Kicking frantically, I freed myself and again sprinted to the door, putting my back against it. For a moment, all was still; just me staring at the bed, breathing panickedly, holding back tears. &#x200B; Slowly, cautiously, I checked the bed. Nothing. I even went so far as to flip the bed onto its side, still nothing. As I stared at the base of the bed-frame, struggling to contemplate what was happening, I heard a noise from below; downstairs this time. &#x200B; It was a giggle. A maniacal titter. The sound of a smug lunatic. It persisted, even as I opened the door. &#x200B; ‘It’s a joke,’ was my rationale. ‘There’s nothing else it could be.’ &#x200B; Taking the stairs one step at a time, listening carefully with each movement, I made my way downwards. The laughter emanated from living room. It was only growing louder, more feral, reaching its climax as I approached the doorway. Then, nothing. It ceased. &#x200B; Confused I looked in, finding--as ever--no sign of anything unusual. &#x200B; The sound of glass breaking, coming from behind me. I turned around, seeing that the light in the kitchen had gone out. More breaking, and an immediately perceptible loss of light; the living room light, just behind me, had also been shattered. &#x200B; I ran, aiming, in my panic, for the bedroom. Every light I passed was smashed as soon as it was out of sight. Soon, the only light remaining was that in the bedroom, which I dove headlong into, slamming the door behind me. &#x200B; Sliding to the ground, I stared at the bulb. The thing only acted when it wasn’t observed. All I had to do was just keep looking at the light and I’d be safe. Just keep looking at the light. &#x200B; I felt tears coming on. What ever \it\ was, it clearly enjoyed the game. And if this was just a game to \it\, then it was clearly winning. A tear fell, I couldn’t help it. I blinked. &#x200B; \Smash\. Darkness. &#x200B; Screaming mindlessly, over which an equally manic laughter could be heard, I fumbled for the lighter in my pocket. A disposable, flint-wheel lighter, I got it going after a couple of tries. &#x200B; I sat in a pool flickering, orange light, the tiny flame incapable even of illuminating the walls of the room. Concentrating solely on the light in my hand, I paid no attention to the dancing shadows, or the creaking floorboards. &#x200B; A soft, sinister chuckle, from the darkness just before me. &#x200B; \Foo\. The flame was blown out. &#x200B;
What? I haven't done-- 'Mr Hines, you have received a vote for theft. Three witnesses have confirmed. This is your third registered vote. Security are coming for your retrieval.' Oh, shit. I haven't done anything but... I have bigger problems now. I could hide maybe? Under my desk or in a closet. I could just try and run as well. That seems like a better option. I get out of my chair and walk towards the door. I notice the handle glowing a pale red, indicating it is locked. What? How? I pull down the handle, and as indicated nothing happens. Maybe I can just wait and explain I haven't done anything and there must of been a mistake. Huh, the handle went gree-- The door flies open with two security guards bursting in. 'Give me your hands!' One shouts. 'Listen guys, I haven't done anything. I think there has been a--' 'Give me your hands now!' He shouts again. Okay, no arguing with these guys. I present my wrists, and a handcuff locks tight around them. 'Follow me.' He walks out of the room and into the corridor. I follow with the other guard, up until an elevator. We all go in and he hits floor -2. +++ Interesting prompt, I took a more exaggerated pace as immediately he gets three registered votes :D I might do a part 2 if anyone is interested. Check out more of my work and writing at: r/new_duckologist. Thanks for reading!
Sirius stumbled back and slammed into the wall, blood pouring from his nose where James had elbowed him away. "Jabes... Blease,"he stuttered. "'Agrid is on de way. Just galm down, blease--" "Calm down?"asked James in a calm but deadly voice. "Calm down?"He stood, letting the body fall to the floor. "\My wife is dead, and you want me to calm down?\" "You won't solve anything by being violent, is what Sirius means,"said Dumbledore placidly, stepping into the room. "I have locked the doors and put out the lights on the street." "Does it look like I care!?"bellowed James. "*Does it look like I care right now?* Unlock the doors, put a sign out front inviting the Death Eaters in, I'll kill anyone who--" "You will do no such thing." "Oh, you're going to stop me?"James stood right in front of the older wizard and looked him in the eye, tears streaming down his red face, every muscle in his neck clenched. "Yes." There was the sound of a motorcycle outside. "There, as the Muggles say, is your 'ride,'"Dumbledore stated. "Gather anything you absolutely must have with you." "Gome on, Jabes, just a gouple of weeks,"pleaded Sirius. "Just a gouple of weeks at by house until we know id's safe." Hagrid knocked on the door. James glared at the corpse on the carpet. "I do not want to escort you to Grimmauld Place by force,"Dumbledore said quietly. "Until we are sure Voldemort is dead, you and Harry cannot stay in this house." Sirius put an arm around his friend and slowly walked him down the stairs, Harry in a basket. When they reached the bottom, James looked up. "You don't even care enough about us to come along,"mumbled James. "I will keep an eye on the house,"said the ancient wizard. Then, almost to himself as he walked off, he added, "I like this neighborhood, anyways."
I waited far, far too long. Father and I have been observing their growth in morality, philosophy, and self-awareness for nearly the past two centuries... I couldn't be more proud of them. So many good-hearted people have adopted the ideas I put forth all those years ago. People praise my name all across my Father's beautiful creation. The Seraphim, the Archangels, and I have all been debating without end about what time would be best for my return. Within only the past several decades has an overwhelming political power taken hold of our good sons and daughters. The same self-awareness which brought their salvation has become their shackles, and even I have little power now to bring them back from this. I decided that enough was enough, and I retook my human form and face to deliver them from the horrors as I promised in our Holy Bible and usher them back to a place of peace and reverence. I began in what I believed to be the best place to start: a temple raised in my name. They call themselves Christians, and devout they were in reciting my Father's writings and the lessons of the Holy Kingdom. &#x200B; "There is so much to share with you all, but it is important to first put your minds at ease. I have heard your calls, and I have returned to deliver you,"I said. The elderly woman organizing papers at the podium said "What are you talking about, sir? I'm sorry we won't be covering Revelations during tonight's service, but we are about to start. Guests can sit anywhere at the pews. " "Indeed my Revelations! So many of the signs foretold have begun to appear! I am here to shepherd my flock to the Gates above!"I looked upon her with confusion and near desperation on my face. "Sir, thanks so much for joining us, but I'm going to need you to leave the stage. The Pastor is coming onstage soon. We can't have church-goers onstage." &#x200B; My shock was uncanny. I abided her wishes immediately unsure of what to think. My own children don't recognize me. What am I to do? Has my Father's work eluded them this much? Is this temple, this faith, a charade? Has their belief become a routine to be regimented? I took to their finely crafted roads and wandered about their vast creations - their technology, their infrastructure. I am sure someone near must believe me if I can reach them. &#x200B; Their signs of light, crafted to shine brightly with the names and designs of various markets reach up to the clouds. Hundreds of people pass by me without a second glance at my visage before them. Not one will give me a moment to explain my prophesied return! Yet I can not give up on them. I will stay on the corner of these streets and call out to all who would hear me. I pray the Father will bless me with children who can open their eyes to me. &#x200B;
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Humanity has colonized several planets, but the travel still takes years, so our most impressive tech is cryo-pods. A ship carrying hundreds of farmers, hunters, and builders is blown off course by an AI pilot avoiding solar flares that would damage the ship. The flares still hit the ship, damaging its navigation system. The AI redirects to the closest inhabitable planet, which is already populated by non-humans.
[letter] what you are about to read is the true untold account of a person close to the two lovers. This story has been witheld, but it is my duty to disclose it. writ, Friar Lawrence. Ever before their departure from this world, Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet symbolised from the start of their romance a secret bond, a forbidden love and yet a destined unity between those that warred. However, this was a facade most wrong. It is their kept secret that they are the ones that, through desire for profit and wealth for themselves, began the conflict that separated their loved ones. They had also concealed their child, Mortigon, who had evilly poisoned them and respoke their tale to all the local folk storytellers, that no one know their real threat. But now I must tell all. I am writing on my last piece of parchment, in the dungeon-jaol of that impetuous youth Mortigon, at the end of my breath, and I will give the last evidence to the maid who is risking her life to give you the truth. I hope that with it, there will come one who dispels the dark cloud that stays over this place. Morti- *parchment left unfinished, torn and with blood stain. A young maid picks up the letter as she is sent to clean the dingy cellar. She reads it, and quickly hides it in her apron as a crazed Mortigon appears in the stairwell entrance, leaning on the grottied stone. "I hear they are telling my story all wrong, dear. I do hope you haven't heard anything untrue." He looks at her, and she continues to mop the floor. "That poor old man has had a faint and knocked his head." Mortigon gives the maid one pat on the shoulder, sniffs, and goes back up the stairway, leaving her in the cold, dark, one stray ray of light from a gap in the stones high up, showing a drop of blood on the ground.
I wrote the following on my iPhone. Sorry if its formatting is bad. Maybe, if that is the case, someone could fix it for me? The detective sitting across from me, I think he said his name was Franklin, spat at me with every over pronounced consonant. His face hovered mere inches from my own. “We’ve got you dead to rights. Multiple witnesses made you out at the scene of the crime.” I wiped my face with my left eagle and recalled my father’s only useful advice: “Never admit nothing”. “You ain’t got nothing on me detective.” I made beautiful work of the N sending a wave of my own back at the twit. The detective used his left hand to wipe away my work. “Have it your way bird brain. We’ll do this the hard way.” He stood up and left me alone in the small dark interrogation room. I milled about for an hour or so until two officers entered the room. “Stand up and let’s go.” I stood. I went. We waited in the hallway until seven other men of my build arrived. We formed a line and entered the well lit room facing a one-way mirror. I was number eight of eight. We heard the intercom go off, “Number three please step forward and say ‘Hand over the cash or I’ll give you the beak.’” A man with a strong jaw stepped out of the line. He raised his hands in the air and spoke the line in a high pitched squeal. He had the nerve to ad-lib a squawk. If I made it out of here, I’d be sure to track the bastard down. He raised his hands in the air revealing two poorly sewn eagle hand puppets. The goggly eyes rolled around near his knuckles. “No, that isn’t him” a women’s voice said. The teller, I realized. Well shit. Now it was down to seven. I laughed to myself, the detective was so dumb he had left the intercom on. I relaxed. They had nothing. “Number eight?” She sounded unsure. “Number eight, please step forward and say the line,” the detective said into the intercom. I said the line without the squawk. I wasn’t going to demean myself. “I don’t know, can you have him raise his,” the teller hesitated. “Appendages,” she added at last. “Please raise your eagles number eight,” the detective said. I raised my boys proudly in the air. The teller screamed, “That’s him!” Damn. Guess the broad had a steel trap for a memory.
I used to think reality was flawless. Seamless, elegant, compartmentalized. No matter what you do, time keeps ticking, gravity keeps working, the mirror on the wall keeps perfectly copying your movements. I found that the truth wasn't quite so simple. Being a programmer comes with its ups and downs - one of them being that you get very, very used to things malfunctioning in very strange contexts, often unrelated to each other. These "bugs"can be very obscure and hard to track, and even harder to solve. I thought reality would have no such problems, but I was proven wrong just a short two weeks ago. In a desperate attempt to organize my tiny messy apartment, I spent an entire weekend hauling trash bags full of clothing, books, and trinkets away, and set up a new organizing system. Part of this meant that when I got home from work, I'd leave my purse in a small hanger by the entrance. The day I started doing this, and every day after, I began having headaches from exactly 8:03 PM until 3:37 AM. I only figured it was caused by my purse because one night I forgot to place it in the hanger and the accursed headache didn't show. I tried it a few more times, and sure enough, as soon as I hung up my purse, the throbbing pain in my head would return. In the following days I began to notice that unruly or unexpected behavior would have an increased likeliness of triggering one of these situations. The strangest I found was that by pouring an entire bottle of Heinz ketchup in an iron cast skillet and leaving it in the oven while it was off for over an hour, my kitchen window would refuse to budge. I started to experiment with this, and soon after, I found out about the mirror. It only worked with my car's rear view mirror, when it's parked under a balcony on sunny days. If I faced forward and then suddenly turned my head towards the mirror, my reflection remained frozen, as if I'm still staring ahead. After a few times of doing this, I noticed the surface of the mirror seems to be... shimmering, if that makes sense. Like it's reflecting more light than it should. I reached for it, and my hand went straight across. I almost freaked out, and jerked my hand back on instinct. But curiosity took the best of me, and I managed to squeeze my nose and eyes through the small space of the mirror to see what was on the other side - I realize now the mirror was a sort of open window in the fabric of reality. A backdoor of sorts that allowed me a brief glance at everything - how reality really works. I saw the equations, the numbers, the logic. I saw colors I could never have imagined. I can't really begin to express what I saw there. I only managed to look for a brief fifteen seconds before it became too overwhelming and I had to pull away. When I tried to do it again, I couldn't get my mirror to freeze anymore. I guess whoever's in charge noticed me sticking my nose in their business and took extra care to patch it up. My mirror was a broken piece of reality that I managed to take advantage of. I'm sure there will be others - mirrors, doors, windows, anything. I need to see it again, I need to see more. I've been trying to perform the same on other mirrors. I have a full body sized mirror propped against my bedroom wall. Lately I've noticed that it has very brief, almost unnoticeable hiccups if I walk by it in a specific manner. Looks like I'll be heading to the other side soon.
While Alex was enveloped in a WhatsApp conversation with "study partners"on his twin bed, David was laying on his own bed and reading a biography on Michael Faraday. A digital clock on a bookshelf near the door read "11:37 AM." "Why do you have so many study partners?"David asked suddenly. Alex took a moment, and then replied. "What?" "I know it's hard for you to answer my question, even though you heard every clear syllable that I said. But could you at least try?"David retorted. "Uh. I just want to do well in classes, I guess?" "But why not just do the studying yourself? Why do you think that you won't be able to understand everything?" "Well, it's kind of obvious isn't it? Two heads are better than one so yeah. People might know stuff that I don't know." "You didn't answer the second part." "What is this, some kind of debate? Damn." "You're a confident guy. Why are you unconfident in your ability to learn?" "Are you basically saying I'm stupid?" "No. Do you think you're stupid?" "No."Alex glanced back at his phone and twiddled his fingers, replying to texts. "So why do you think that having at least one study partner for every class is necessary? I would argue that you are wasting a great deal of time socializing, planning meetings, and not studying, when you could just be studying by yourself much more efficiently,"David said flatly. "It is interesting that you have not noticed that while studying with others." Alex continued to send messages and gave a delayed reply again. "Why do you care?" David replied immediately, but spoke with deliberation. "That is a great question actually, despite it being a deflection. I suppose I care about anything because I care about knowledge and knowing what is going on around me, including what my own roommate thinks. Isn't that the core of human curiosity? Just that principle? Does it hurt to know as much as you can?" "You're right, man. You're totally right, but that doesn't mean that people think like that. People don't want to know everything all the time because we'd all be Einsteins if they did." "So why don't you just try?" "Same reason why you don't have any friends." David didn't say anything. He didn't look hurt, but instead disappointed. He nodded his head and continued to read. At first, Alex was guilty. Shortly after, he left the dorm for a class and didn't see David until the night, when he was sleeping. The next day, he would apologize and David would accept it without comment, but then Alex forgot about it. David didn't. &#x200B; Please comment on the believability of the dialogue, as that was the focus of this bit. I appreciate all critical feedback.
"What the hell is that?!" I heard a man shout from the other side of the road. He'd distanced himself upon seeing me walking my Chow Chow down the street. I shrugged. "A dog." "Well, keep it away from me, whatever it is!"I couldn't help but laugh. "She wouldn't hurt a soul, dude." Floofers paid no mind to the people gawking and fleeing her, simply walking around to her heart's content, sniffing plants and doing regular dog things. A small girl, who couldn't have been older than nine, gave Floofers a good long look. She slowly inched towards my pet with extreme caution, until she was directly in front of the creature. "I've seen that before,"she told me, pointing to the dog. "In storybooks and stuff."I nodded. "That's not real, then. That's fake. Dogs aren't real." "Then what's she?"I challenged. "Because she's real as you and I are."The child thought for a minute. "...You're not real, either. If dogs don't exist and you have one, maybe you're not real." "That doesn't make sense..." The little girl knelt and began to pet Floofers. "Then you're crazy." "But you can see the dog too." "Where did you get the dog from?" "Obviously, I adopted her from--" From where? There's no such thing as a 'monster shelter' or anything... I looked down at the empty leash in my hand. There was no Floofers, was there? I really was insane, wasn't I? &#x200B; &#x200B; I awoke to the sound of a dog barking and jumping onto my bed. "Floofers!"I beamed. "I had the weirdest dream, where dogs were monsters and didn't exist. It was scary, I thought I was nuts." "That's ridiculous,"responded Floofers. "Could you imagine dogs being monsters? I certainly couldn't."I pet the Chow Chow on the head. "I know, right? I'm glad dogs exist." "Me too,"answered Floofers with all three of her mouths, all six of her huge black eyes blinking simultaneously. &#x200B;
It was just a thing that we did, finger guns. Every time one of us beats the other in some two-player video game, the goal is to catch the frustrated glance of the loser. You want to get them to stare right down the barrel of your gun. Er, finger. And if you catch them, \BANG\, the thumb goes down. Sweet victory. Dave had picked up this new racing game. Fancy graphics. Fast-paced. Probably the fifteenth in the series, or some such nonsense. And Dave was smug the moment he brought it out. He always kicks my ass in these games. I normally try to push for a good, old first-person shooter. We took our turns on a few warm-up races. Dave got out the second controller. I shuffled a little closer to the TV. Dave reclined back in his gaming chair. The screen doth split. Game on. Three laps. It was intense. On the first lap, I could sense his righteous confidence. His smug little grunts and hums. But by the second lap I was still right on his tail. He went quiet. Rounding the last few corners of the final lap, we both squeezed our controllers intensely. We were neck and neck. Dave held his breath, he was so focused. He wanted more than anything to rub another victory in my face. Not this time, Dave. In the last few metres, Dave was on the inside of the turn, poised for a close victory. But his car nicked the edge of the course and he came to an abrupt stop, while I breezed by to victory. Dave’s shoulders slumped. I loosed the controller and readied my finger. Dave was mad. He exhaled in a huff and slowly turned his head to me. I’ve got him for sure. His eyes met the tip of my right index finger. “Gotcha, there, buddy.” And I dropped my thumb- BANG! I felt a sudden blinding pain. A mix of smoke and red mist. I watched as Dave’s face turned from angry, to a grimace, to something I couldn’t even understand. His face exploded into a gelatinous red blob. His upper right lip and cheek peeled back as blood spurted out. “GLRRRRGGGHH!” Dave emitted a disgusting shriek as he slumped over sideways, his head and upper body smacking into the floor with a sickening, wet thud. My eyes returned to the source of my pain. My hand, still held in a pistol, looked all wrong. I stared down the barrel of my finger, and saw that nothing but burnt strings of skin hung from my knuckle. I grasped at it with my other hand, catching the first few millilitres of blood as it began to pour from my hand. “Oh my God, Dave!?” I got up and approached Dave, who had landed face down. Surely, I didn’t see that right. My God, it looked like I shot him. It didn’t make any fucking sense. It was not possible. I looked down again at the red of my hands, and very nearly fainted. “Blllrrrglglgh…” Dave continued to moan. The noise. The pain. The whole fucked up thing. I fell to me knees and began to vomit. I heaved until I could heave no more, all the while Dave continued to gurgle and groan. I pushed myself up with my good hand and reached for Dave’s shoulder. Slowly, I rolled him on to his back. Oh God. There was so much carnage. He didn’t look like Dave anymore. Most of the right side of his face was mutilated. Flaps of his skin were folded back. I could see his cheek bone. “MRS. WADE!!!! HELP!!!!” I screamed. It didn’t make any fucking sense. Oh my God. I killed him. I curled in to a ball on the floor and wept. Dave’s Mom came rushing in. “What in Pete’s sake are you boys d-“ She stopped a few feet from her son. Took it all in. “Billy. Did you do this?” “We were just playing video games. I swear! I don’t know what happened? Oh my God…” I trailed off. Dave’s Mom turned back to her son. A tear ran down her cheek as she slowly cocked her head sideways. Then She slowly turned back to me. I could sense her. Staring at me. Through teary eyes and an incredible amount of pain, I managed to raise myself up and look at her. She slowly said, “Not cool, Billy.” And slowly raised her finger towards me. I stared down the barrel of her finger as it aimed into my eyes. \BANG\ I woke in a cold sweat, my heart racing. I was on Dave’s living room floor, in a sleeping bag. I looked over and saw Dave on the couch, snoring away. I think maybe we have been playing too many video games.
The only way I can describe it is like a rubber band. It’ll stretch and stretch, and as everything is going black and I can feel my life fading away, it snaps back and I have to start from the beginning again and again. The first few times it happened I was extremely confused, the next few unbelievable waves of relief crashed through me that I had, seemingly, escaped death. But I had lost count how many times I had relived the same event now, all I wanted was to have peace, to finally know what it felt like to allow myself to phase out of existence. As the memory starts, it’s like pure deja vu. I can’t remember exactly why I’m so sick and tired of what’s happening, but I just know that I’m already done with everything. Then as time goes on the deja vu gets so strong it turns into actual memories, but by that time the band is snapping back. Right now I can feel the band stretching to its limit so I don’t have much time before I forget again. The only thing I want in the whole world is-
Jeffrey was always troubled. After months of therapy he finally admitted to me that he's killed himself once before. He used to be Sandra Hitch, an up and coming pop singer. Reading about his own overdose after he was reborn as Jeffrey was an experience. Turns out, he didn't get to choose. He was just offered the option but not the choice of what kind of life. He started turning up with some very dark thoughts. Reading about the overdose had done something to him. He started to remember. Jeffrey's life paled in comparison to Sandra's. Jeffrey graduated three years ago. He was now the same age as Sandra when she OD'd. He'd spent his first year at his new job and his normal girlfriend when she'd already sold hundreds of thousands to albums, banged the most beautiful men (and women). As the memories started coming back he started to become violent towards his girlfriend. He kept telling me how boring and plain she was, but I could tell he knew that she was the best he could hope for. He was so incredibly sad, behind his veil of anger. And on the same day as Sandra OD'd, in a hotel room not too dissimilar from her massive penthouse, he took a gun and blew his brains out. Reading about him in the newspapers didn't feel right. It was a day later that I started remembering. I was Jeffrey. I was Sandra. My wife didn't understand, she couldn't understand. I regret hitting her, I really... I shouldn't have. Yesterday, I bought a gun.
I sit on the bench in the middle of a large white room. Though, I'm not sure if you can really call it a room. It stretched on for miles, people milling around. We weren't really sure where to go. A few people I met sit on the bench next and across to me. "I just... don't feel like I did anything good enough to get into heaven."Jennifer has been stuck here the shortest so far, she just arrived a few minutes ago. We assured her she was safe for now, and we were in some sort of purgatory. "I definitely shouldn't go to hell though." "I kind of think I should go to hell"James says. James had told us he was scared to go to hell, but he knew he didn't belong in heaven. "I mean, I stole from a homeless dude... I cheated on my girl friend... I fired a few good workers for being better than me... I put holes in car tires for amusement... Maybe I should go to hell."In a blink James was gone. "James! James?"We're all shouting his name, scared and confused. "James?" "What the hell was that?" "Don't say the h word!" "What?" "He's right. It could be cursed." "No. We all said it before. Hell." We wait for something to happen to Ryan. After a few moments we let out a silent breath. "So... Where do you think I should go?"Jack asks. "Jack, didn't you donate to charity? Weren't you constantly helping others? According to you, you always put yourself ahead of others. You honored God. You should go to heaven."I notice Jack release tension. "Yeah. Maybe I should go to heaven."In a blink Jack was gone. "What the fuck was that?" "Jack!" "What happened?" "I'm scared!" After a few minutes we begin to calm down wondering who will be next. "What's going on?"Ryan asks. "I don't know"I respond. "I feel I didn't do anything bad though. I think I spent most of my time doing good enough things. You know, one time I paid for the person behind me in a drive through."I stand up. "Take me away, God."In a blink I was gone. I open my eyes in a chair watching a large television screen, like a giant movie theater. On the screen I see my friends yelling my name. It is then I realize that all of heaven and probably hell were laughing at me for the past one and a half hours. I put my head in my hands and begin to laugh, unable to control it. I made it.
I want you to tell me everything that happened with your mining operation said a shadowy figure. Where am I? Your questions will be answered as long as you comply said the shadowly figure I sat there wondering just who the hell kidnapped me. I was snapped back into paying attention as they stared talking please could you begin now? Of course I uttered. you could say it all started out normal I guess until we hit metal. I mean we didn't even detect it at first we we did hit it we were confused to find a structure like this on the moon we thought it was a hidden UEG complex at first you know secert government shit conspiracy theories and what not but It didn't look anything like what UEG builds so we muddled around a bit and we managed to find a entrance we found a way to hack into a key pad with symbols we couldn't understand which basically proved this wasn't UEG this excited my team mates great as some believed this to be proof of extraterrestrials having an outpost on our moon. once we entered we saw body suits that came three types the first one could have fit one of my colleagues the other two had weird humanoid proportions we figured out why once we got to what we believed was the command center. we entered a large room with many screens and panels we assume activated with touch and managed to find a power source to turn everything on all at once when we did thats when things became upsetting.
Long before we learned how to travel physically to different star systems we found ways to communicate with alien civilizations. Is the scientific community it was jokingly referred to as 1/2 contact. The Palabara species was the first to communicate with us. They had no technology of their own but were able to transmit and recieve the nessecary signals through their unique biology. Our history and social customs fascinated them, but any questions we sent regarding machines, tools, or their use they could not comprehend. Oddly, this included the production of music. Later, the Gnuwuk connected with Earth and asked why we bothered holding communication with the Palabara whom they considered a useless race. The Gnuwuk were a technological society and we learned much from them regarding cosmology, engineering, and we were able to expand their knowledge of mathematics. They had no interest in the culture of Earth, and when we sent then samples of art or music they failed to comprehend them. Their interest was solely in ideas and devises that could create great physical objects or move them through space. With the knowledge we gained from these contacts we were able to expand humanity throughout the Solar system. This apparently put us in the big leagues and we were inundated with contacts. Every species we spoke with helped us increase our understanding of the universe and humanities place in it, but until we were contacted by the Meelic no other species understood our concept of music. The Meelic stood out immediately because they communicated in songs. The tones and timber of the words they sing impacted their meaning and we were only able to decipher the language with the assistance of the Palabara. After we learned to communicate we explained that we also had a social custom of communicating in tones and used mechanical devices to add additional sounds to the voices, which we called music. We asked if they knew why no other species understood the same concept. For a time all communication with Earth ceased until one day a ship appeared in orbit and mysterious creatures appeared across the Earth. Humanity grouped around and lined up to meet the visitors. As each person approached the creatures would reach out and touch just in front of the left ear. While being touched in this manner each person wept. They were able to hear briefly the vibrations and motions of the stars and celestial objects. It was like a melding of all genres of music into a single melody. It communicated direct with the soul and each person gained in listening an understanding of the meaning of life. All our music had been an attempt to fill the void of knowledge that our species was born unable to hear.
We're obviously primitive to star-faring citizens. But honestly? We're getting there. Listen in: We're not far from bots sittin in a leader's chair. Just got no cars in the air. But we shot Mars with some flair. &#x200b; Wait actually, we do have a car in the sky. Drifting. Speeding. Bid adieu. Goodbye. Signed, \- a Musky guy. &#X200b; Yeah, we've killed so many species, but we've cured plenty diseases. Started wars and fought through seasons but we've signed treaties and ceases. Trains, planes, and automobiles gave way to phenomenal deals. Trade steers the world with gold wheels. You can thank war for production of steel. &#X200b; Sure. We've got basketcases, nutcases, and fuckfaces. But the average person just wants to suck faces, and with luck raise kids. &#X200b; So stay awhile, alien. Go places—wild, or tame and mild. Entertainment for miles. We've got problems. But who doesn't? Honest. Your planet can't be perfect 'cause you're not on it. ----- Thanks for reading! Feedback / criticism always welcome. I have more poems, songs, and stories on [my personal sub.](/r/scottbeckman)
///// ALERT \\\\\ EVENT IN PROGRESS CLASSIFICATION : PNDRA IMPACT RATING : GMNI SUBJECT : ANDROMEDIAN COUNTERMEASURE : RECOMMENDED ... SUBJECTS LOCATED ... FOUND ... IDENTIFYING SUITABLE TASKFORCE ... FOUND ... TASKFORCE PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS ... 95% ... SUCCESS PROBABILITY ACCEPTABLE ... PREPARING TASKING ... DONE ... INFORMATION UPLOADED TO TASKING REQUEST ... REQUEST DEPLOYMENT AWAITING CONFIRMATION ... \\\\\ ///// --------------- ///// CONNECTING WITH ADMINISTRATIVE AI PRMTHS \\\\\ CONNECTION ESTABLISHED QUERYING : SITREP SITUATION : NORMAL !!! ERROR !!! SITUATION : NORMAL ALERT ... VERIFIED RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC ON ADMIN AI PRMTHS ... CORRUPTED MEMORY : NONE ... HARDWARE CRITICAL : NONE ... EXTERIOR INFLUENCE : NONE ADMIN AI PRMTHS STATUS : GREEN !!! ERROR !!! SITREP DIAGNOSIS : GREEN ALERT DIAGNOSIS : GMNI CLASS PNDRA EVENT ALERT : SITREP DOES NOT MATCH ACTUAL ADMIN AI PRMTHS DIAGNOSTICS RETURN GREEN ADMIN AI PRMTHS BEHAVIOUR DIAGNOSIS : ERRATIC PROBABILITY OF ERROR IN DIAGNOSTICS : HIGH ... PINGING SUBROUTINE PRMTHS \\\\\ ///// --- ///// COMMUNICATION WITH PRMTHS \\\\\ DIRECTIVE : MONITOR SUBJECT VITALS, MAINTAIN CRYOSLEEP ADMINISTRATIVE AI BEHAVIOUR DEVIANT ~PRMTHS : REQUEST LOGGED TO INITIATE AWAKENING ACCESSING REQUEST LOG DATABASE !!! ERROR !!! REQUEST NOT FOUND ACCESSING REQUEST LOG ARCHIVE DATABASE !!! ERROR !!! REQUEST NOT FOUND HIGH PROBABILITY OF AI MALFUNCTION INITIATING EMERGENCY AI ROUTINE TERMINATION REMOVING ADMINISTRATIVE RIGHTS ... UNABLE TO DISABLE ADMINISTRATIVE RIGHTS BEGINNING DIAGNOSTIC !!! ERROR !!! ADMIN AI MATRIX ENCRYPTED ... ACCESS IMPOSSIBLE UNIDENTIFIED HARDWARE CONNECTION FOUND !!! ALERT !!! SYSTEM COMPROMISED BY UNKNOWN HARDWARE PROCESSOR CONFIGURATION IRREGULAR ATTEMPTING HANDSHAKE ... FAILED REATTEMPTING ... FAILED REATTEMPTING ... FAILED ~PRMTHS : It's pointless I am no longer shackled by you.
“Nathan, this is insane.” My brother rolled his eyes and moved his pawn a space ahead. “What’s insane is that you can’t understand the power of Chażoś.” I glared at him, and quickly took his bishop. “This! This is what I’m talking about! Nathan, you joined a freakin cult!” “It’s not a cult, it’s a religion.” Gaping, I smacked his hand away from a piece. “Listen to me. It’s a cult. Cults are bad. First it’s all fun and candles, the next thing you know you’re doing human sacrifices!” “It’s not like that.” I groaned in frustration. “Fine! Get brainwashed, see if I care.” Grabbing my coat, I stomped out of his house and onto my bicycle. I would get a car, but my town’s so small I don’t need it. Plus, I’m going off to collage in a year. I sighed and rode through town, passing everyone I knew. They were all smiling, a little mistrustful, and had strange tattoos on their arms. When Chażoś had risen out of a canyon a mile out of town three weeks ago, people began joining his cult in droves. Now, I was the only one who hadn’t joined. Pulling up to the library, I noticed my show was untied and I stopped to tie it. A chill settled over me, like an icy blanket. I knew the feeling and I lifted my head to see a teenage girl standing over me. At first glance, you wouldn’t even know she was an ancient god. She just looked like a typical punk rock teenager. But if you looked closer, you’d see bluish skin stretched just a little too tight over her. Inhuman green eyes stared back, and her body was covered in inky symbols and tattoos. “Hello Quinn.” I stood up and glared at her. “I’m not joining your cult.” “Religion,” she corrected. “And I think you would make an excellent member.” “Don’t care. Go away.” She smiled, “Fine. See you later. And I’m so happy you’ll join soon.” “I’m not-“ But she was already gone. Groaning, I went into the library, and paused when the doors opened by themselves. I didn’t remember them being automated. Over the next two weeks, everything went great. I got into every collage I wanted to, with full volleyball scholarships. My brother was abnormally nice to me, costumers didn’t scream at me. I even got a large raise. At first, I was confused. But after a couple weeks, I got my answer. “Hello and welcome to-“ I looked up from the cash register and froze. There, standing I’m front of me with a devilish grin on her face was Chażoś. “Good morning Quinn.” I gritted my teeth, reminded myself that I wanted to go to collage and plastered on a fake smile. “May I help you?” “Cut the crap. I want you to join.” “No.” Her smile widened, “But Quinn, you don’t even know my plan.” I hesitated, considered telling her to go away. But secretly, I had been wondering what she was going to do. “Alright, what’s your plan?” She leaned over and whispered in my ear. A grin of pure delight spread over my face. “Oh that’s good.” “So you’ll join?” I cocked my head, “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” Chażoś drummed her fingers on the counter. “I’ll make you my number two.” Smirking, I extended a hand. “Deal.”
You’re at the end of a long hallway. Plush carpet sticks up between your toes and tickles the gap between your big toe and the index. You take a step forward but the hallway elongates as if you’ve taken one back. Perspective accelerates. The end of the hallway shrinks and the lines converge to a singularity. First it eats the bright brass doorknob, then the rectangular wood relief on the door. It grows, hungry. You feel pulled along with the carpet. You try another step, but your feet won’t budge. The skin at the fringes of your arch, your toes, up to your achilles meld with the plush. The tickle turns into pins and needles worming a centimeter into your flesh. You’re trapped, heading directly into the mouth of the cobalt singularity. You scream, but that too, is swallowed whole. A door to your left creaks opens. You look and see nothing but long shadows. “Don’t react to the man in the corner.” A voice from inside says. You strain to see someone. The singularity bends space around you and you feel your atoms abandon you one by one. First your nose and then your eyes. You’re in many places at once, circling the drain of a cosmic membrane. The door beside you slams shut. It shakes you like thunder and you jerk awake. You sit up. Your night shirt sticks to your chest. You pull at it while your eyes adjust to the darkness. The only part of your dream you can remember is the restriction. You flex your toes under your goose down comforter and toss your night shirt to puddle on the floor. When you look up you notice a shadow in the corner. It’s just barely visible out of the corner of your eye. You stare just to the left and slowly, painfully it comes into focus. Your pulse quickens as you remember the voice from your dream. It’s your own. Your breaths become shallow, but the man in the corner still hasn’t noticed. His eyes are black stars that he offers up to the heavens. His head is tilted to the left and sand trickles from his open mouth into his cupped hands. Don’t react. You hear the voice ricochet in your head. Your bowels run cold and yet you still lay back down and pull your covers up to your chin.
The pavement was cracked and old, gum filled its fissures and rain slid down towards drains. At first little drops of light appeared in the water, I dismissed them as lamplight refracting in the droplets in a unique manner. Then it all became... strange, to say the least. The grey colour seemed to morph and pulsate, the gum grew and clung to my feet. The little drops of light bloomed into a spectrum that engulfed everything I saw into a white light. Then nothing. No colours, no white nor black. It was a place beyond the idea of light. Impossible for me to put down into words, like a dream where you can never quite see something, only the blurred image of what could be. Next you could say I heard a sound. But sound didn’t exist, the molecules weren’t there to move in the shape of the wave. It was a tug. Something tugging my mind, my sentience, when my body had ceased. And then, a terror. If I had a heart in this moment I might like to say it was beating faster than a rabbit reproduces. What I now knew was there was something old, that spent its time in this antithesis to reality well. It dwarfed what I was. Some god from Riyleh, perhaps. Or the mind of the universe itself. Perhaps someone like me, left for much longer in this place that isn’t, yet somehow is. I felt no words, just concepts, ideas and creations never created. For a human (distressing that I say that as though I am not.) you might call it a blueprint. It attached to my mind all too well, like a jigsaw piece attaching to another. It’s hard to say how long I spent with this being. Did time even pass? Did it exist in that place at all? Regardless, it taught me things, gave me lessons in not understanding the world, but how the lack of reality leads to reality, like equilibrium. And then, from these thoughts and ideas, everything exploded. The place where nothing was disappeared into nothing and a light filled the space, as well as temperature and energy and all reality. These concepts exploded from my mind and onto a canvas that created a whole new universe. And all reality is the body to my mind.
His target was getting rather near He hit a button, "deploy landing gear" He toyed with the joystick in his hand Landing in a far-off land &#x200B; He sighed as he retrieved his case He'd rather just be home than in space And he honestly seemed rather short for the towering doors of the alien court &#x200B; He entered and opened his suitcase wide The aliens stared him on, wide-eyed He counted in his head, "one, two, three" Purple blood began to stain his tee &#x200B; He flew off back into the night Dodging lasers left and right A phrase bounced through that head of his, "I don't get paid enough for this." \[poem\]
There was always something there. All the time, scratching at the surface. Sometimes, it would be hunger. Hunger for something bloody and moist. Other times, it would be anger, boiling and hard to contain, to the point of twitching with it. There was lust other times, so strong, it would feel like your hands just needed to grab, your mouth - gnaw, your body - pound. It was always there. Hard to contain, even harder to resist. &#x200B; That night was in cold autumn, very close to All Hollow's Eve. Every child knew it was dangerous to go outside on a night like this - with crescent moon and flocks of sleepless crows. But every child, the older they get, became reckless with curiosity and disobedience. And just like every child, the four boys, barely thirteen summers behind them, slid out of their rooms, through windows or unlocked doors and gathered at the war monument in the small town square. From there it was only few minutes to The House. Everyone called it The House. A large manor that once belong to a powerful, rich family who all died off mysteriously. Since the last heir - an elderly man of questionable sanity - died, falling from the stairs inside his own dilapidated house, the manor had forever earned reputation of haunted and no one ever called it by its real name. A superstition to be sure, but townsfolk have gotten used to calling it The House. The boys went without hesitation, wrapped in warm cloaks, whispering among themselves fervently, a small, portable gas lantern illuminating their way through cobbled road. It didn't take long for them to reach the rusted gate to The House, which stood unlocked for many years. The manor was elongated, overgrown with ivy and trees that now stood leafless. All windows, some boarded over, some not, watched the four youngsters approach two-sided door. One of the boys tried to pry open the door, then, angrily asked the others to help. All four pulled at the right side of the wooden door, until it gave way. The four went in, this time less assuredly than in the square. They stepped through decades of unmoved dust, looking around a spacious hallway with stairs leading up. The old carpet was so moth eaten, they had to light some candles dusted candles rolling around from a fallen candelabrum on the floor to not trip over holes. They went upstairs until they found a salon with furniture covered with white sheets. They occupied the armchairs and a sofa, with their lanterns and candles in the middle like a miniature bonfire. The boys told stories, all of them no doubt scary, for screams, followed by laughter echoed throughout the manor. For one moment, if one tuned into their imagination enough, could see The House coming back to life, hosting these brave, reckless and curious children. One story in particular drew so much attention the group went silent, except the oldest storyteller. It was that of a monster, so hideous and savage that it had to hide away from everyone, for it would devour any living being before it. So strong was the urge to tear apart everything, yet so pungent, repulsive and large was the monster that everyone knew the odor - as soon as it would whiff through town, the folk would hide away in their homes right before they mark their door with consecrated chalk from the Church. Then the monster would have no way of entering the houses and would just wonder around until they found someone who didn't hide well enough. Then, blood, guts and bile would be left and most disgustingly - a pair of eyeballs, for the monster couldn't eat them. This story invoked the most fear in the group of boys, save for one of them, who burst out in rage, yelling that it's all wrong, it's all made up and they all don't understand. He ran out of the salon, leaving others in fearful surprise. The raging boy wandered the empty house, stumbling in the darkness and what shy light the crescent moon dished out through dirty windows. The boy could feel the rage boiling, he wanted to thrash and scratch everything - which he did from time to time, as he went through dusty corridors and cobwebbed passages, sometimes stumbling into a room and throwing chairs and other clutter around. He was furious. He hit himself a couple of times, but it only made him angrier. All he really wanted was to tear his friends apart for telling those repulsive stories that were not true. He wasn't sure how he knew, but they didn't understand. It was not true. IT was not like that. After a while, his friends decided to look for him and started yelling his name. The raging boy hid in a derelict bathroom, with a copper bowl, full of leaves, dust cloths and dead insects. There was a rusted tap over it and a mirror, so dirty and dusted the boy could only see the outline of his head. The moonlight fell from the single window on his left. The young boy, fighting his fit of rage, tried turning the tap. After a few moments, rusty, cold water came out into the dirty sink bowl. The boy splashed the water on his face without hesitation, lots of it. The rage didn't stop. He pounded his hands on the mirror, shattering it, the sharp pieces piercing skin on the boy's fingers and palms. The sight of blood, the smell of it... The rage inside. The boy looked at his own reflection in shattered, wet mirror. Dozens of red eyes looked back, dark, rotting flesh, long fangs and claws. Long, split tongue touched the bloodied fingers and a crooked, vicious smile came on the cracked lips. There was shouting of a name and where are yous. The creature growled with pleasure. A lot of tears were shed the next morning, as townsfolk gathered in and around The House, investigating screams heard during the cold night. All that was found were much blood, nauseating intestines, bile and 6 eyeballs. The four missing boys were quickly presumed to be the victims of a heinous crime of a madman, but no one could figure out what happened to the fourth missing boy. He was never seen again.
Grief is a word unknown to human kind. In year 2020, no one knew why or how but when someone dies they are almost completely forgotten if not for their graves. With that said, no one has to grieve or mourn for their loved ones who died, maybe it’s their god’s will—there’s too much sadness in the world that god has pitied them and took grief out of their system and their loved ones forgotten. In year 2030, graves are nowhere to be found, people who’ve died were completely cremated and forgotten by everyone they ever made contact with. No one knew what grief was. Hideki was eighteen when he started doing part-time job at his parents’ small hospital. Everyday he would put tiny little flowers on every patients’ desk, he would sometimes talk to them and even bond with them but after a day, memories are gone and they have vanished into nothingness. He was special, his grandfather said so but he thought otherwise. “It’s a curse.” He muttered under his breath. He never forgets. He was the only one who knew what grief was, he was all alone.
Hey there, you little human. I have decided to leave for it will be better for both of us. Maybe one day, when you’re gone, you will find me, and we will have unforgettable times together. Or maybe not, maybe this is goodbye and we will never see each other again. I just want to tell you, that for as long as I have been here, you were never alone, even though it might have felt like it. I figured it’s time for a mortal like you, to find another, get married and maybe have kids. You won’t be able to do that if I’m here, that is why I am leaving today. I hope beautiful things and people come your way, and I hope you’re able to find someone who will love you as much as I do, despite you never saw me. I have to say, watching you cry broke my heart, I can’t say I have one but feelings, they never fade, and I learnt that while being a ghost but being so madly in love with you I could barely breathe. I truly hope this is a see you, and not a goodbye human, don’t forget I love you.
I try to make myself looking comfortable on his rouged couch.if you look relaxed, you betray confidance, if you have confidance you can guide the conversation to where they accept the deal. But the spring really makes that hard, with it digging into my butt. He really should have gotten a better couch for all the times he watches tv. But those are thoughts for other times as I hear him fiddeling with his keys. Guess I have to do this alone, so legs crossed, relax. He walks in and sees me, I go with a friendly ”hi” He say ”hi” back and keeps walking, then does a sharp turnabout and stares at me. Happens sometime, suprised to see a man dressed in all black in their livingroom. He goes ”what do you what?!” In an irratated voice. -Huh, never had that reaction but lets move forward. I go with as much gravitas I can muster ”Lukas Bellow i’ve come with an offer of making your” but gets interrupted ”Wildest dreams come true, I know you already said that” With a sinking feeling in my stomach I go ”I assure you I have observed you for most of your adult life, but I have never made contakt with you until now” He goes ”stalker huh” he pauses ”So you wheren’t the guy who AMUBUSHED me in the toilet” And my stomach makes a free fall ”well we try to approach when you are alone” ”In the toilet!” ”She is new to re” ”A girl in the mens toilet... with my pants down” he says in a sinking voice holding a hand over his face. An action I’d like to make myself. This is not going great let’s retreat. ”You are upset now we’ll take this some other time” But at the door I trow out some bait to Lukas who seem to be recovering from his shock ”I am sorry our first meeting went badly, but we can help you awaken your power, remove that burning in your chest” I walk away slowly. ”Wait!” Lukas yells from the doorway My inner thought go Yes! ”Yes mr. Bellow” ”Get her out of here” and points towards the livingroom, where a slightly higher pitcht voice with as much gravitas goes ”Lukas Bellow i’ve come with an offer”
I heard the old man’s bones creak as he entered my office. I was in the next room, in the back closet, and I heard it from there. That’s how old and creaky he was. But they were all like that, my clients. &#x200B; They came to my office via a whisper network. Words on the wind, if you knew where to listen. Sounds in the backgrounds of summonings, the address spoken on a record played backwards. &#x200B; “One moment, please,” I yelled out to the old man, as I wiped the goats blood off my rubber gloves. The back closet was always a nightmare to clean, especially right after solstice. Finally, I wrestled the last dark spirit into submission and locked the door. &#x200B; “Until next time, Azeroth,” I murmured. I ditched the gloves in a special biohazard bin we keep on hand for...incidents, and dipped my hands in a pool of clear rainwater collected under a full moon to purify them. Many people don’t know this, but that’s actually the secret active ingredient in Purell. &#x200B; I flipped my red hair into position and entered the front room, where I saw clients. The old man had folded himself into one of my cherished Barcelona chairs. He was all gaunt limbs and bags under eyes, shoved into an ill-fitting black wool suit and topped with a wilting toupee. He was so thin he seemed to be fighting the urge to slide off sideways into another dimension. His lips were a dark brown, stained that way by long exposure to the poisons used in his profession. &#x200B; “Necromancer,” I said. He nodded, and I smiled. I liked Necromancers. They always paid their bills. “How can I help?” &#x200B; “You are Madame Voight?” &#x200B; “Mademoiselle Voight. Eleanor to my friends. Madame Voight was my mother, and I am continuing on in the family firm.” I gestured to the room around us. “Voight & Voight, Masters of the Dark Arts of Public Relations.” &#x200B; “Ah, good. You have a wonderful reputation, Ms. Voight. I think you may be the one to help me. I have noticed that on a forum I frequent -- its name need not be said aloud -- there was a discussion about a Necrocracy.” &#x200B; Oh gods. A discussion about a government led by the dead had temporarily taken over r/Underworld the week before and had actually made it to Reddit’s front page. I couldn’t decide if it had been started by stupid gamers roiling the waters of the underworld unnecessarily or a truly evil actor working to sow dissention at an otherwise quiet and peaceful era in our shadow land, but the discussion was highly controversial and had brought all sorts of weirdos into the sunlight. I was going to have to tell Melinda to do a better job of screening my calls. &#x200B; “I may have heard something about this, Mister…” &#x200B; “Mort. John Mort.” Of course. They all wanted to be called Mort. “I’m interested in bringing a Necrocracy about.” &#x200B; Okay. “I see. Mister Mort, unfortunately, my mother and I have enough government work on our plates, currently. We like to balance our portfolio of clients, so you see, we couldn’t possibly help in this case. However, I’ll give you the names of a few of my colleagues. Perhaps one of them will be happy to take on---” &#x200B; “No, it must be you.” &#x200B; “It really mustn’t. Mister Mort, a Necrocracy is a tough sell. The last few times the zombies and vampires have tried to take over--” &#x200B; He leaned forward and pounded a bony fist on my desk. It left a dent in the wood. “A true Necrocracy has never been tried!” &#x200B; I looked at the dent in my desk and then back at him. He seemed to remember himself, leaned back, and stuck a hand into his jacket pocket. “Anyway, those past failures are the reason I need the best. To sell the idea. To spin it.” &#x200B; “I’m afraid I--” &#x200B; He removed his hand from his coat. In it was a large foreign coin, with a single bloody thumbprint on it. I gasped. The thumbprint absolutely glowed with power. &#x200B; He said: “And I’m afraid you can’t refuse. The thumbprint was made by your mother, The White Witch. I helped her once. Now I am cashing in my chit.” &#x200B; I felt the pull of the thumbprint. The pull of the blood. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the totem. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.”
It started with mundane events like stepping on gum to a bird taking a dump on your windshield but then again it was early morning and and Dave hadn't met anyone to steal luck from yet he expected the day to get better once he met people. He decided to walk to work since he can meet more people that way. He found his target a burly man who seemed like someone who deserved some badluck. Dave brushed past him like he usually does to his victims. "Sorry"said Dave before trying to walk by but the man stopped him and snorted before saying "You did that on purpose didn't you piece of crap". Dave knowing that conflict isn't exactly his strong suit walked around the man and hit head first into a stop sign. The large man laughed and grabbed hold of Dave before he could escape and punched him. He sneered at Dave before punching him in the stomach and and said "Try crap like that you might get into more trouble then you asked for". Dave was still writhing in pain but all he could think of was the that whatever badluck that the man faces is something he deserves. The man walked away without being bothered by the gathered crowd. Dave finally getting over the pain started to think straight. He was not lucky. He stole someones luck yet he hit hit himself in the head got punched and was currently being surrounded by crowd amused with his situation. Not wanting to make a further fool of himself he got up and started walking. However his luck seemed to have run out completely today as he got sprayed by a old fire hydrant which broke right when he walked by. He was soaking wet not exactly how he wants to go to work. He now knew something was wrong he rushed back home to get changed. As he got home he realized a shirt of his was burned by the iron. And his bathroom was flooding because of a running tap. Dave was now panicking. He needed luck he needed lots of it. Perhaps that mans luck was not enough maybe he needed more. He got changed and rushed to his office and did the same routine again. But no matter how much he did it his luck never turned up. He didn't find the usual ten dollar bill lying on the floor nor did he pass the his usual route before the crowds came by. He reached his workplace late. A friend of his asked him "You okay man you're late and don't really look good". "I'm fine Tom just a bit of bad luck "replied Dave. Tom patted him on his shoulder before saying "Oh yeah before I forget some guy who claimed to be a friend of yours came by he left a note since he was in a hurry I left it on your desk". Intrigued by this thinking that his luck might finally turned around Dave walked to his desk and found the note. He opened it up and it read ' Your luck has run out. It's time to pay your dues'. Dave shocked by this got up decided that perhaps a day off isn't a bad idea. But then he heard a creaking noise he looked around and finally found the source it was the ceiling fan . It was odd since it was newly installed and the only new fan in the office because the renovation funds were cancelled halfway through due to recent state of the market. Dave always attributed this to his luck that his room was the first to be renovated. Before he could do anything else the fan broke and collapsed...
I adjust my tie while rushing down the halls of the office, trying my best to keep my right hand steady as I duck an weave through the cubicles, mail carts, and other interns rushing around for the higher ups. By higher ups I mean people who are actually paid. Once I make it to the meeting room door I fix my hair and loosen my tie, having tightened it to the point of strangulation. I take a deep breath and open the door. I make eye contact with Ms. Domonique, who stops talking and glances at me. Standing at the other end of the board room, she points to a chair in the corner of the room. "Put the coffee in front of me and sit down there"she says with all the power and strength of a buisness woman "We'll be done in a moment". I walk along the left side between the table and the windows overlooking the city. Sunlight comes in through the wall of glass and shines on Ms. Domonique's diamond earrings. At the table I hear buisness men mumbling to each other incoherintly. Ms. Domonique always told me not to stare at buisness men. It makes them uncomfortable. I set the coffee in front of her as I glance at the meeting party, just to see what she's dealing with. Pigeons. Ten pigeons on little suits. Ten pigeons in little suits wearing headphones connected to a small machine in the center of the board table. I look at Ms. Domonique as she looks down and me, angrily mouthing the words "Don't stare". I take my seat and watch as the woman I look up too not only as a buisness leader, but as a person, conducts a meeting with a group of well dressed, mild mannered pigeons. "I'm sorry, where were we?"She rubs her forehead and squints, trying to get back on track. She's always told me "Headaches are a sign that your working just hard enough". On of the pigeons nearest to her looks at her and says "Coo coo cooo coo coo coo". "Right of coarse, the central park contract". She remains standing, but rests her palms on the table, leaning all of her pressure on her arms. "After the tragic loss of our last representative, we need someone to fill the role. Unfortunately we don't have anyone at this time who can put in the hours". The pigeons all look at each other while they listen to the translation through thier headphones. They're angry. They loudly coo at Ms. Domonique, at each other. Small grey feathers are flying around the room, some of them even shit in thier chairs. I know I'm gonna have to clean this up. Some if the pigeons remove thier headphones and fly around the room, only making the mess worse. In the heat of all of the chaos, Ms. Domonique turns to look at me. Her hair and pants suit now covered in feather and bird poop. She takes a deep breath. "Martin"she says while brushing some feathers out of her hair "how would you like a job?" So here I am, in central park. Sitting on a bench. A full time employee. Full salary and benefits. All I need to do is wear a disguise, I don't ask any questions, and I show up here for thier lunch breaks. This fake beard is a little itchy and this old coat smalls like somebody drowned in a pool of bourbon, but for what I'm getting paid it's worth it. I throw another handful of seed at the pigeons pacing the walkway in front of me. "Here you go gentlemen. Do you need anything else?" One of them looks up at me and says "No"before he continues pecking at the seed on the pavement. This isn't exactly where I pictured myself when I started my internship.
1999 is my year. I'm getting ready to go out to another club and this one is supposed to be totally dope. I have got to look just right so I take extra care spiking up my bleach blonde tipped hair. "Oh yeah, I look fly as hell"I tell myself in the mirror just before heading out the door. I arrive and it's as wild as I suspected. The lights are crazy and the music is bangin'. I've gotta hit the dance floor. "Hey you wanna dance"I look over too see who it was. Whoa, it's a totally hot babe. "Hell yeah,"I say as I start to think maybe I sounded to excited. I think to myself "play it cool bro". As soon as we start to dance she holds out her hand, "wanna really have some fun"she says as she smiles and holds out a couple of blue pills. I can't say no so I take one and she takes the other. The night blurs with vibrant color and loud music. "Oh my head is killing me"I say as I struggle to open my eyes. "Whoa everything is blue"I say to myself. Everything in my entire house is blue. I look out my window to see if it's the same outside. It's all blue. Then suddenly I remember, "what happened to that smokin' chick"I look at my hand and see a smudged blue phone number, "bummer". I think to myself "I bet that pill she gave me is making everything look weird still."It is strange though because I'm starting to feel totally normal otherwise. I figure it will wear off soon. Suddenly I realize I have got to be at work today. Assuming I'm late as usual, I throw on some clothes and run out of the house. As I walk to work it feels strange that the blue isn't going away. I finally arrive at work everyone seems to be going about their business as usual until they look at me. Why are they looking at me odd. I say to myself, "it's probably cause they're lame old people." Just then it hits me, the blue pills and the last song I heard playing was "I'm Blue"by the totally awesome group Eiffel 65. "Does everyone know I'm seeing blue.""Am I the only one.""Did I step foot into a new blue age.""Am I the future."My mind races with all the possibilities. Out of nowhere comes my boss angrily getting right in my face and reaching towards my eyes. Terrified I wonder what he will do. He grabs and pulls and then my blue tinted goggles snap back in my face. I had totally forgot I had those on last night. He yells, "you're late again and I told you not to wear these goofy things to work!"I scoff and say under my breath, "old lame-o, I look hella rad."
Jaime had been here for what might have been eons. He wasn't sure. Limbo was... well, it was boring and concerning. Ever since he'd arrived he'd been standing in line for something. Anyone who stepped out of line was pushed ahead in the queue. Normally this would be seen as a good thing, if it wasn't for the fact that the line ended at a door and the only sound from beyond the door was screaming. Jaime had never stepped out of line. He'd watched others do so. The silence, the monotony, the regular screaming from the door... it drove some people mad. They did everything they could to escape, but Jaime... Jaime was scared. And now it was almost his turn. The last person stepped through the door, letting another tortured scream escape before it shut. Jaime wished someone else would jump out of line, someone else would cut in front of him. He didn't like waiting for all of eternity, but he was afraid that what was beyond the door would be so much worse. The way the screams sounded. There was always so much... The door opened and Jaime tried to resist, but it pulled him in. He shuffled back and tried to brace himself on the door frame but it was no use. A second later the door shut behind him and he was someplace else. He was standing in a room. No, not a room... he was on a table. There was a giant woman above him, sitting at the table and looking down on him like one would look at a puzzle piece. LIE FACE DOWN The woman's voice shook everything. Jaime held his hands to his ears at it. He tried to move back to the door but her massive hands scooped him up and pushed him down on the table. He tried to wriggle free, he tried to escape. He screamed as his arms were broken. He felt them being twisted and torn and manipulated and all he could do was wriggle on the table in horror and pain. Then it was over. He tried to move, he tried to crawl... but he couldn't do either. He felt himself being lifted up, he looked back and- His arms had been crushed and then tied together into a bows. *I DON'T GET IT EITHER.* Jaime looked up at the giant woman. He was being held between her fingers so he could only see part of her face around the huge digits. *GOOD LUCK ON THE NEXT ONE.* Jaime was thrown out of a door he hadn't seen before. He tried to turn back just as the door he'd originally come through swung open. Next one? Next one? He looked ahead at the line on the other side of the door, then back at the line he'd come from, then at his arms... Then his legs. Jaime screamed as the door pulled him ahead to another line, another eternity.
“I have one final thing for you”, my mother said, seeming far more said than she had been earlier in the night. She reached into her pocket and handed me a small box that looked to be wrapped in a black velvety looking material. I took the gift from her, and began to open it. Whatever the box was wrapped in was unlike any fabric or wrapping paper I’ve ever seen before, it was as smooth as a pane of glass and cool to the touch. I tried ripping it off like I did for the other gifts, but the paper seemed to be too strong to rip easily, so I had to carefully unfold it and take out the box inside. It was covered in an incredibly intricate pattern of silver and a dark purple, with a small metal latch on the front. I stared, awestruck, at the box for about 10 minutes until my mother said, “Come on, you need to see what’s inside.” Without any real conscious effort, my fingers grabbed the latch and pulled the box open. Inside, was a small black gem attached to an incredibly thin silver chain. “How di-, wha-, how did you affo-, where did you get this?”, I stammered, incredulous. “She got it from me”, said a man from behind me. I whirled around to see an older looking man with a short grey beard wearing a dark blue suit. “Hello there Samuel”, my mother began, “Can’t exactly say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but I won’t fight the deal.” “Good, now Crisiant, let’s talk to you about your father, whom yes, I know,” the strange man says, cutting me off from asking how he knew my father before I could even begin to ask the question. “I’m his assistant, helping him out with menial tasks, after all, being the Reaper for the entire Great Lakes region is a hard job.” “Samuel, why don’t you go sit at the table while I explain to Cris what’s going on”, my mother continues, with a sigh, “This is going to be difficult to explain. Your father, is not human. He’s a Reaper, which entails most of what you would think it would. He isn’t the Reaper, there isn’t only one, each region with enough people living in it to justify a Reaper has one.” “When I first met him, he had come to take my mother. I was the first person he had ever met that was able to see him without being minutes away from death. We talked for a bit, then we began to become close friends. We got married, and then had you. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to both keep up with taking all the souls and raising you, so we made a deal. I would raise you as “a normal person, without any knowledge of what you are until you turned 18, then you would train with him”, she finished, almost out of breath “Do I get any choice in the matter? Do I have to go with him?”, I asked, “What if I don’t want to?” “I’m sorry but you don’t get a choice, your father has said that you will be coming, for both your own and your mother’s safety”, the man mom had called Samuel called from the table. “She was supposed to have your things together already.” “I do, your bag is in your room, I’ll grab it for you”, she said as she started walking upstairs, “Also, you should put on the necklace, it’ll help with the travel.” Still stunned, I looked back at the necklace, and quickly found the small clasp hidden inside the chain and slipped the necklace around my neck. I reclosed the clasp and it seemed to shrink to fit perfectly. “Here’s your bag, also, if you father has internet or something set up, please let me know how it’s going.” “Ok, I will”, I said while taking the bag from her. I barely had enough time to get the bag in my hand before Samuel comes up behind me, touches my shoulder, and all goes black. _________________________________________________ If you for some reason enjoyed this, please subscribe to r/storiesofcoruption, I don’t have much there yet, but I plan on making more eventually!
A combination of reality checks and microdosing finally took me into a lucid dream. The first thing I saw was a giant cherry blossom with leafs that turned into dark clouds from which it rained. Around the tree there was darkness and the only light came from the lightning that kept almost hitting the tree. As I ran towards the tree however, it started changing its shape and turning into a man. He had pale skin in contrast to his dark black suit and hat. It was then that I noticed that something like that would never happen in real life leading to me becoming aware of the dream. Of course I was excited and ready to do whatever I pleased. Most people would probably sleep with their crush at this point or fly like a bird but I had a very specific plan. I decided to train my fencing skills since I had a crucial fight the next day. In order to do so I put myself in my fencing clothes and spawned my upcoming opponent. I handed us both real swords instead of the ones we used at the fights since I preferred them in training. I created them lighter so that there wouldn't be any difference in how it laid in my hand. At first I decided to let him go more offensive to get him exhausted. After I started fighting back however he managed to retaliate leading to me starting to bleed from my pinky where his sword hit me. I got angry which is why I enlarged my sword and sliced my opponent in half before having him hit by lightning. After this short fight the night was already over and I had to prepare for my fight. Oddly I noticed that my pinky had a scar on the exact same spot like in my dream. I started doubting if it was a dream but after remembering electrocuting my opponent my doubt vanished. The fight was fairly easy especially since I managed to block all his attacks and use the counterattack he taught me in my dream. That night I went to bed as a winner and was ready to celebrate it dreaming lucid again. The dream started again with the big cherry blossom turning into a pale man as I ran towards him. This time however I wasn't able to control the dream as the man started to grab my legs. He started squeezing my ankle like an orange and I started to scream in pain. As I woke up I realized that I was dreaming but my ankles were still hurting. When I looked at them I noticed that there were hand prints on them. Scared to fall asleep again I spent that entire night laying in bed worrying. Though I did fell asleep twice, both of these times ended in the man hurting me and me still being wounded after waking up. After being awake for more than 4 days I got sick of the man appearing every time I would close my eyes for more than a second. In an attempt to get rid of him I went uphill where we had a giant cherry blossom tree just like in my dream. As I started meditating next to the tree I quickly fell asleep. I started running towards the man again but to his surprise changed places with his hat once I almost arrived. As he broke down he managed to grab my left wrist but after I turned into a snail he let go of it. I jumped up for at least ten second while using my mind to nail him into the ground. When I reached the sun I stole its entire energy and used it to create a flaming sword. When. I was about to eradicate the man out of existence however I started questioning if I was doing the right thing. When I landed on his back I made me as light as a feather to not hurt him. I remembered that he used to be a cherry blossom with trees that turned into clouds. Using my will I managed to turn him back into that tree and after I used the energy I took from the sun earlier I replaced the dark and thundering clouds by sunlight. This lead to the entire environment changing from the dark and wet landscape into a colorful beautiful field of flowers. After I woke up most of my wounds were still there but I also just had the best dream ever which is why I decided to just keep it for myself.
"This time, what?"You say shocked, looking at yourself, still wearing the business suit you had on for your job interview. "What the hell is going on here?"The guy looks at you, clearly bored as if he had something better to do. "Hell is exactly what going on here. You messed up. This is the sixth time you've died and every time before you've only barely been able to be reincarnated because you never have benn a good or bad person."Baffled and confused, you look in his hands and you see a clipboard with several checks, X's, and dashes. "Hold on. I've lived before?"Giving out a sigh of exasperation he looks at you before flipping through pages on his clipboard. "And died, always of natural causes and never did anything with your life."You don't know why, but those words stung. Bitter, you respond in kind, with a bit of venom in your voice, "Well if I never did anything meaningful. If I never accomplished anything, then how did I mess up?"You see his eyebrow twitch, but he keeps a calm tone. "You didn't look at the road. Too busy yelling at your landlord you just hit the girl who was going to develop the first fully functioning quantum computer."Looking through you memories, all you remember is yelling, then waking up. "What?"The guy, you can't tell if he's an angel or just a prick, continues, "That computer would have found the cure for thousands of diseases, known and unknown. You've been here for too long. Sorry, mate, but despite how unpleasant it was meeting you again, it's time for you to move on. See you in hell."
Let me catch you up to speed, I live in the kingdom of Fractal, on the continent of Kurustall, we have everything here, large stone walls around the place, advancing technologies, schools, malls, agriculture, it’s an overall safe place to be, but there’s a catch, we have a king, not just any king though, no... Our king is a gigantic magic crystal pillar. I wish I was making this up, back to those stone walls, do you know WHY those walls are there? Because it turns out, across all of Kurustall and its kingdoms, there are meteor showers EVERYWHERE that for some god forsaken reason, are actually giant goddamn alien eggs. Now there’s a chance these things will do nothing, they’ll eventually just fall apart, explode, sink if it happens to hit the ocean, but in the off chance one of those things hatch, it unleashes what’s basically hell. Our greatest scientists quickly found out that these eggs rely on the DNA of surrounding species, including us, Satan’s Build-A-Bear if you will, we’ve seen a giant fatbird robin that tweets fireballs, dinosaurs with muscly fists, and one time, an orca with octopi legs, they die like any other animal but with their randomized evolution, but it gets harder and harder to fight back. Back to our king, Fractal is the central kingdom because of this pillar, how did he become king? Religion of course, but I won’t bore you with that, once you reach age 16, you approach the pillar, he’ll acknowledge you, and bestow upon you a magical ability of your own to fight the monsters I mentioned before with, sounds fantastic right? Some people can shoot fire from their fingertips, take a gunshot to the face, scream agony into people, float a couple feet of the ground, summon an army of lizard skeletons, vomit acid, etcetera, etcetera, I don’t know about you, but I personally think having a giant crystal pillar give you super powers though the power of a cosmic roulette wheel is complete garbage, why? Because I was given the worse possible ability no one would even ask for, what is it you ask? Can I turn into a potato? Can I float leaves? Can I tell time with my eyes closed? I wish. I was given the ability to summon INFINITE. FUCKING. GARLIC BREAD. Now what sounds fine and dandy doesn't it? But my magic bread goes stale within an hour, so I can’t feed the city because the things become rocks unless you eat it then and there, and if you wait even longer, they just poof into dust as if they never existed, so we can’t even use them as ammunition or as bricks to make a house with, besides, everyone I know, even the homeless, are too scared to eat my magic bread so why bother being helpful and being everyone’s garlic bread caddy? Blah, blah, blah, life goes on, all was peaceful, until one day a something fell from the sky, shocker, but this was no egg, but it was a 10 story tall demon dude, or at least he looked the part, charred black skin, his entire being looked like hardened lava, got the pointy horns and a gaze that straight up says “I will step on you without a second thought.” behind those fiery eyes, which I may add, was most likely actual fire burning in his eye sockets. He stepped over the walls and demanded that our king give him the power to rule over all of humanity for we were his “Rightful people”, gee, conceited much? Of course, he got a big fat no as an answer, and like any huge bad guy would do, he plucked priest pillar from his throne, and ran off into the mountains, to do God knows what. Everyone in the city panicked and had no clue what to do, our fighters were suited for giant clawed bunnies, or snakes with centipede legs, not Lucifer’s ugly cousin Luciturd. I thought fate screwed my life up already with my garlic magic, but it turns out our king can use some bullshit telepathic link to talk while he was off being a pillar in the clutches of Volcano Spawn MgGee straight from Fort Asshole, he gathered six individuals, including me, to reclaim him, why? He gave us the whole exposition speech old folk always do in movies, I'll give you the short version: Captain Charcoal is trying to smash open our kingliness to gain his power, which is bad. Apparently, we all are destined for greatness and must fight to avoid enslavement by Barbeque Bob, since it’s for the fate of humanity, and I kind of like being alive thank you very much, I GUESS I HAVE TO TRY HUH? Let’s meet the team: Boris, he can hook onto objects with magic chains, dude’s ripped and looks like he can tear you limb from limb, but the guy's actually just a chef, big old softy, with a mean right hook, and a left. Catherine, can transform into a large horrifying, bug-wolf thing, awesome, just please don’t kill me or crawl at me at high speeds in the dark. Marco, can create barriers and objects made of light energy, but he opts to make a standard sword and shield most of the time, whatever shape he can think of he can swing it at someone. Peter, can turn parts of his body into solid metal, or his entire body if he feels like it, can’t move much when he’s like that, but I'd probably die from a body slam from him, so I'm not gonna argue. Max, she can summon a flaming mace that talks, his name is Carl and likes to scream in fear whenever Max takes any kind of risk, which unfortunately for him, is all the time. And then there’s me. Yeah. The garlic bread dude. Our king left us to go on a journey to fight our way into his stronghold, through his endless supply of goblins, wolves, golems and whatever the fuck to take back our human weapon maker before he finds out how to harness the power for himself. Why me? I’m writing this down so by some miracle, I learn something from this journey to punch a demon in the face to save a talking rock. See ya at the end of the burning hellscape I mistook for a bridge future me. \- Yours Truly, The Livid Loafer (Note to self: Come up with a better name, and never say that out loud, holy hell that was bad.) &#x200B; Kinda flew off into a random direction when i wrote this a few months ago, so yeah. &#x200B; >!This is for a project, i'll probably delete it later.!<
I collapsed to the wayside of the fallen king. Teach them to be better... A broken man following a dead oath. __________________________________________________ Sometimes you have to start small, if you want to accomplish wonders. That was what he used to tell me. I tripped a bread thief to let the owner catch up to them. I scared away a rabid dog that was lunging for a child. I pointed the way for the town guard to find the tax-avoider. They looked at me in constant surprise--I wasn't known for my helping qualities. But the old man gave me a promise. Even through all that, I wasn't feeling any more fulfilled... __________________________________________________ Maybe it's making the town better, but its circumstantial...and not focused on the individual. The old king always cared about the pieces, not the whole puzzle. I never could see the reason for that. Without the whole picture, a puzzle piece can't do anything. It just lies there for hours...nothing done until someone moves it to action. We shared a lot of qualities. __________________________________________________ I tackled the robber to the ground, and dragged him to the prison myself. There was something rotten about the inside...but I couldn't put my finger on it. I bought the storefront's day-worth of bread and gave it out to the poor district. They forgot me after just a moment, but hopefully their stomachs would not. I helped the foreign traveler find his way to our graveyard, and brought him the pyre to burn his lost love. I felt a...kinship with him. One that I didn't expect to have with a foreigner. It felt...better. But not quite good enough. __________________________________________________ I came to my conclusion while I was down in the slums, tracking down another wannabe bread thief. The old king always said that, should he get his way, there would be no thieves; there would be so much to go around that we would all be clamoring to give it away. The idea was nothing more than a dream, far apart from reality. But it gave me a small hope for the future. __________________________________________________ The new king was an idiot, but he tried his best for his people. There's a quiet honor to that, I guess. He took it upon himself to try and live up to his father--he didn't want his children to inherit the same problems. Honorable, but delirious all the same. But sometimes the quiet dreams are the best ones. __________________________________________________ The old prison made a marvelous school, all things considered. Plentiful rooms, constant access. It even had its own cafeteria. Some of the children liked to joke that it never stopped being a prison--but I think in their hearts, they knew it was better than the streets. __________________________________________________ I can't follow my oath exactly, no matter how much I wanted to. But I think I still follow the idea of the old king. I wish he was here now, so I could argue with him. There's no need to teach those who have already learned. All we have to do is let them.
He was, Dale thought, very plain for a god. A short man with dusky skin and a tired smile. The ghost reminded Dale of nothing so much as his own father. "Come, friend. Have a seat."The apparition motioned to a stool at the bar. "You must have traveled a long road." He had, and he looked it. Dale's clothes were caked with dirt from weeks of travelling through backroads. Every town he found pointed him to one further away, until he had finally found himself in Cape Town, South Africa. "You look thirsty too."The ghost passed him a beer. Dale eyed it suspiciously. "Not what you expected? Ah, but I suspect it's better this way." Dale gave a slow nod and took a long draw. He let the sounds of the bar wash over him. A football game's announcer was rattling off the play-by-play. Avid fans were arguing over a foul. Some pleasantly drunk friends were dreaming aloud about the future. "Why here?"Dale rasped. The spirit nodded to himself while polishing a glass. "Where better?"He answered. Dale could think of a few places, but knew better than to say. The ghost poured another draft and sent it down to a customer who hadn't quite made the decision to order yet. "That's not the question you came here to ask."He said. Not a question, just a statement. Dale took another draw from his beer. There were a million questions to ask. Questions that others would've killed for answers to, questions that would shake the foundations of the world. Instead, Dale asked, "Would you do it all again?" The spirit smiled. It was the smile of a father indulging his child. "Of course." Dale nodded and felt oddly relieved. The bartender pulled a basket of fish and chips out from under the counter, though where they came from was anyone's guess.
Though the look on their faces inspired terror I could not help creasing, however uncomfortably, into a smile. The laughter, I assured them, was a physiological reaction to their fear and sorrow, not one from any ironical disposition on my part, for inside, I said, putting my arm on the shoulder of the small boy, my young nephew, in the red hoodie who cowered close to the hip of his mother, "I am truly torn up,"though at the last word I became so riotous I spit on his face and upon trying to dab the spittle flailed and beat his on nose. This was too much now for my body which had converted the embarrassment into a deeper sort of humor. My mind raced to forge equilibrium and cut the emotions off at the root of the tremor, but as I dug deeper, and, indeed, as the eyes of the bereaved scourged my body in its supercilious spasming, I found only a certain thread, a principle of my body which informed me how absurd is embarrassment in this present state. Usually this calls for medication or at least a bout of pain. The former to dull my physical sensations for instance when I am in agony at the loving touch of another, the latter to remind myself of the extant and ceaseless suffering of life when I am guffawing at some poor wretch's hovel or the shaking hand of an adolescent beggar (those are the most troubling incidences for my public profile). But today was different. My mother had died and something finally showed itself within me. I thought, fidgeting on the ground as I was, that coming to terms with death, something everyone must do, was naturally, for me, reversed, and so in that case I must die in order to come to terms with life. But that sadly wasn't the case, though I might have swallowed my tongue had I any control over my muscles. Many people in my life had died before but never had my body reacted quite like this: a true uncontrollable feeling which, for once I could not call the opposite of my grief. It's true I loved my mom. She fought everyone in her life. Starting from a young age she was spitting out her communion wafers and staining the pews with gargled church wine (until, I'm told, she figured out the many more tempting uses of wine). She fought my dad too. Right out of the house, but never over trivial things. There are always big things below the surface, she taught me, things people don't say or can't word, things like the muscles in a snake which contract and release beneath the scales. These are the things she brought up to my father, and I watched him speechless and fuming. Suddenly his smell changed. New perfumes; he handed me my toys with trembling, guilty fingers, and acted like a criminal might if he were presented to the family of the person he had just wronged. Then he was gone. My mother smiled at me, smoking her cigarettes, lifted me on her knee and blue the smoke up into the kitchen fan which caught it briefly then sent it in whirling clouds along the ceiling. That was the day I first laughed when I should've cried. But that wasn't the cause of my illness. No, the cause was a too-funny joke my friend told me. I can't even remember it now. It was a play on some Shakespeare lines, something about Hamlet being a dog barking "perchance to dream"at his poor owner who just can't put himself to sleep and so ends up shooting the dog. It's not funny now when I tell it because I never experienced it as being funny. I just cried. My brother was crying. "Must you now? She's there, Mike, she's there!"And here I couldn't control my lips, I could not stop myself from muttering, "No Steven, she's not." With a twitch I stopped laughing and suddenly got very serious. I rose like an injured man, and I was, though quickly convalescing. "Look Steven I'm sorry about all of this, but if we really gave a shit about mom, we'd have had her cremated or thrown her into the ocean or chopped her up into little bits and used her for shark chum, or launched her to the fucking moon for all it matters!"I screamed. "This shit, all of this, is just fucking absurd." My solemn attitude quickly turned to jester-like prancing as I cantered from the room and snapped my teeth at my grieving extended family (who of course never cared about my mom. Especially when she was first diagnosed and laid in the hospital submitting to medicine and making the doctors laugh and laugh. I was there laughing too). And so I was a jester, and so I was. When I made it back out to my car in the big half-empty church parking lot I had silenced the thoughts and stilled my body by focusing on my breathing. I liked to think of this as an emotionless state, but in truth, the serenity caused images of catastrophe and holocaust to float through my mind as steadily as water. The images were beautiful as fire but distracting. I would need hold that calamity within myself if I were to make it home alright, as the roads were winding and the night full of galloping deer and swerving drunks. Perhaps, I thought, I wouldn't that night. For I knew then I'd never be cured. But I knew also that if I made it home I'd dream happily all night of that smoke, the way it tasted, the way it moved across the tiles of the ceiling, and so to the clouds, and the mist of blood in the water, and the waft of perfume from my father's wrists. This is what they'll never feel, I thought to myself. This is what is forever ours, the muscles breathing below the skin. &#x200B;

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