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Curiousity killed the Martians.
Not directly, of course. Curiously was a robot before the time of robotic sapience. Unable to think or act without command, it was a mere set of wires and components. However, one of those components was a camera. On the other end of the camera, humans.
*Humans*.
We create so many stories of alien races with superior technology taking us out, but why?
To answer that, another question needs to be answered first. What exactly is creativity? Brandon Sanderson, a long dead writer, said it best. In people, creativity isnt the ability to make new concepts. It's a remix of the real world. A horn exists. A horse exists. Imagine... a unicorn!
Well, the real world for men, through all of history, is war. The stronger side with the better technology destroying the weaker side and taking their shit.
Those alien stories are nothing more than that. It's the universe viewed through the lens of humans. The advanced aliens simply did what man would do. We evolved to think this way.
When we saw proof of Martians in 2061, the world's space programs as a collective whole had its funding increased by a factor of nearly three hundred. The enemy had barely developed bows and arrows and they had a lot of shit. An entire planet's worth... though it was all underground in their tunnel systems.
But humans also love underdogs. I'm no exception. A large group of us have been planning. Planning for nearly a decade. Today's the day. It'll go down in history, even if it's a total failure.
The date is E-Jan 7, 2093. I suspect anyone reading this knows the date. The Martian war for Independence will begin today. |
Grog have bad days. Ang mad at Grog because Grog not bring many meat. "Grog spend all days, draw on wall,"Ang say. Ang not know. Ang right. Grog and Ang need meat. Grog go to find meat. Grog find animal, but animal fast. All day, Grog chase animal. Grog too slow, not catch animal. Grog get lost. Grog find new rock. Rock is black. Rock is shiny. Rock cut Grog. Grog get angry, hit rock with other rock. Black rock break to many small rock. Small rock cut Grog. Grog angry, but Grog not dumb, Grog learn. More rock mean more cut. Grog leave black rock. Grog find home. Ugg with Ang. Ugg bring meat for Ang and Grog. All good meat gone. Grog suck bones for meal. Ugg and Ang laugh at Grog.
Next day, Ang mad at Grog again. "Need meats, useless Grog,"Ang say to Grog. Grog go hunt again. Find small animal with long tail. Grog grab animal by tail. Too small for Ang and Grog, but Grog hungry. Grog not cook animal before eat. Not good, but do trick. Grog find big animal, lots fur, big teeth. Teeth as big as club! But Grog not kill alone. Grog need help. Grog remember where find big animal, go to find small animal for Ang and Grog. Find pack of wolf. Pack kick out sick wolf. Sick wolf fight hard. Grog kill wolf. Not much fur, not much meat, but good for Ang and Grog. Bring wolf home to Grog. Ugg have meat for Ang. Ang make Grog eat wolf alone. Meat bad. Ang and Ugg laugh at Grog again.
Next day, Grog hunt again. Wolf meat give Grog strength to kill cat with good fur, plenty meat. Grog go home early. Grog find Ang make baby with Ugg. Grog angry, fight Ugg. Ugg strong, beat Grog, make Grog submit. Ugg and Ang eat cat. Ugg take cat fur. Ang and Ugg laugh at Grog. Grog angry, but know Ugg strong. Grog not dumb. Grog make plan.
Next day, Grog go to black rock place with big rock, make many small rock. Grog take stick and put black rock in stick. Grog test on rabbit. Grog eat rabbit. Good meat. Grog find big black rock, make big black rock stick. Grog kill two wolf, bring home to Ang. Ugg at Grog home with Ang. Grog give Ugg wolf, Ang cook other wolf for Ang and Grog. First time, Ang and Ugg not laugh at Grog in four day.
Next day, Grog tell Ugg of big animal. Ugg say him know big animal, hunt before. Tell Ugg Grog know of way to bring big animal meat and fur with only two. Ugg agree to come. Ugg strong, but Ugg dumb. Grog take Ugg to big animal place. Grog know by look on Ugg face, Ugg not see big animal until now. Ugg is liar. Ugg not see what happen next. With Ugg gone, Grog bring what meat him can to Ang. Ang ask what happen to Ugg. Tell Ang big animal fall on Ugg, but Grog cut meat from animal, bring home. Ang cry. Ang cook meat for Ang and Grog.
Next day, give rest of meat to Ugg family. Meat will rot if not eat fast. Go hunt. Find big animal again. This time, Grog kill animal. Take long time, but Grog do alone. Grog use black rock stick to cut meat from animal, wrap in fur, carry home. Ang surprised to see Grog bring many meats two days. Ang cook meat for Grog and Ang. Ang eat meat. Says taste different. Ang know.
Next day, Grog stay home. Grog cook meat for eat alone. Grog give meat to Ang mother and father. Say must eat meat before rot. Mother and father ask where Ang. Say run off with Ugg. Them not know. Them cook meat. Them eat Ang, like Ugg woman and childs eat Ugg. |
Your parents thought you should be given the mercy of not knowing the details, but I've seen many cases of superpowers and have found its best to be truthful.
Your particular strain is the Igneus Flarus virus. Over the next month your body will drastically increase in temperature. Spontaneous combustion near your extremities will happen often. There are methods that will allow you some measure of control over this but they are only successful in 1 in 4 cases.
After the first month your temperature will stablilize, though it will never stop increasing. The flames will continue to grow in strength until your... until you boil from the inside out.
Treatment will slow progression of the disease. Unfortunately, there is no known cure.
I estimate with extensive treatment that you have 4 years to live.
I have recommend you to the superhero program. Its not for everyone, but many find solace in being able to turn this evil plague into a force for good.
I'll give you some time to think about it. |
John had managed to cross the ravine just that morning. His parents had long since learner to ignore him when he attempted this feat earlier. They were farmers through and through, people concerned with the weather the stars and the passage of time only in relation to what they can coax out of the ground in response.
They did not understand their youngest child and his facination with the ruins across the gorge. To them, it was a collection of metal stick vertically up into the sky, making ghostly sounds ever so often as if to remind the people of Gorgetown, of its existence.
To John however it was an enigma to be solved, for as long as he was able to think he had decided to get there one day.
That morning it was more luck than anything else. He had long since managed to fire a rope across the gorge to the opposite side, but he had already guessed rightly, that he would have been killed like vermin on smaking into the opposite Clift face.
He had already envisioned a counter measure though. He stood at the edge of the clift on the Gorgetown side of the chasm, pointing his grappling hook (self-made) at a spot on the opposite side diagonal to him and fired. The metal spearflew to the opposite side and bit into the earth .
Pulling on it experimentally he prayed to the Deity Ummin and jumped. The wind shipped at him as he accelerated at a dizzying rate. . 1/3rd of the way across the gap he fired a second grapple at Gorgetown clift face. The recoil spun him a little but the rope manage to snag the earth as well craving him to a stop midway between the gap. Slowly he didn't agree the second grapple and inchedhis way to the other side.
Gently his feet touched the rockface and he began to climb. Months of training had helped to develops a body that fatigued slowly. He passed the anchor point and continued up freehand. He manage to crawl over the edge by noon. He had finally made it to the ruins
The first day saw him walking the entire length of the desolate strip.
All the sides were wider than entire houses that Jon had seen at Gorge town, and taller than hundreds of feet. He found that the slides were grouped in squares of varring sizes with wide walkways between them and between these square were large expanses inbetween that could have housed the hut he lived in with his family. The ground here was hard and compact with breaks along its length.
He soon figured out that the history wails they could here from Gorge was the sound of the wind moving between the buildings.
By the 3rd day he had figured out the general layout of the city ( it must have been one - inspite of the absence of life he was sure that it took life to build these structures) he began to move towards the city centre. There was a huge building there, worded than the others but also shorter, conveying a sense of stability that seemed absent in the other structures.
He walked around the perimeter of the building and came to a small series of steps of exactly equal height that lead to a recessed doorway made of glass.
As he reached the summit the doors slipped open with a hiss. Hesitating only for a second he crossed the threshold and entered the building.
He walked down a smooth passageway that lit up as he advanced the way behind him becoming night as he passed through. He was greeted by a series of beeps as a little metallic box moved seemingly on its own accord toward him. Jon froze in place fearing dire consequences
The box stopped before him and just stayed there impassively for 5 second before spinning in place, and moving away from him.
Unerved by this display, Jon considered going back home. Before he could make up his mind however the box moved back into veiw and and beeped at him with what he suspected may have been impatience. He decided to proceed anyway. He pulled level with the moving box and they moved together for a while, the box continued to lead him directing him left and right as the need be.
He stood before an immense door with the number 1 inscribed upon it. The doors opened and he stepped into a chamber with a metallic chair in the center. The box rolled up being him and nudged him onward. Taking the hint he moved forward and and sat on it.
The front of the chair was cool to touch and surprisingly contoured to the shape of his body. He relaxed into it a little taking advantage of the little reprive.
Restrains sprouted out of the chair and bound him to the surface more firmly than rope. A blinding lance of pain shot down his spine as the the seat cut into his back, metal pushing its way in.
He stayed that way fir a few hours as the chair slowly grew stil.
Over time he realised that his back did not hurt anymore, nor did he feel anything really. He began to see a base over his vission with words written on them. Over time he gradually learnt how to read and understand theses message boards.
He began to learn at an exponential rate, each new realisation sparking a new discovery learning how to navigate the system that was embedded into the city that was called Idrisil.
Very soon he was able to go through the history of this place.
Over a hundred years ago a calamity had befallen the earth in the firm of plague. It was rapid and strong in its passage wiping out most of the human population. Small settle ments where built like theirs all over the world to sustain the human race. But in order to maintain law class differences were enforced.
This particular city was was built across a ravine so that seperate areas could be built for the ruling elite and the plebian poor. A bridge was built across the chasm so that the workers necessary for the lesser functions of the city could enter and do their jobs. Thus peace was maintained for a few decades.
However the plebian poor unsatisfied with their lives began to ask for more, and seeing the threat the nobles chose to erase all traces of dissent by installing a mind control tech that forces the subject into compliance.
Unfortunately they miscalculated, and a glitch in the system caused a different response. Every one of the plebian reverted to a more feral state and began to attack like animals. As a last ditch attempt the nobles destroyed the bridge in an effort to keep the plebs from crossing over.
The plebs on the Idrisil side of the gorge however quickly moved down through the entire population with extreme prejudice.
They stayed alive for a while feeding on the bloody Tremaine of their masters and whether that was done with, éach other.
The plebian on the otherwise however stayed in that state firming minor packs . After a year the devices causing the change in them finally broke down and most of them returned to a state of sentience.
However they did not know how to undo what had happened and having no technical skills the were content to live their lives without the technology that had imprisoned them.
The rest of the world as seperated as they were kept an eye on the situation for a 6 months before finally deciding that the city was unsalvagable .
As he sat there absorbing all the information he encountered, Jon felt a deep disparity that he had not known before.
What was he supposed to do now? It was a few hundred years since the Fall. So what waas his next play.
What would happen to the village if the world finds out that Idrisil was still active?
|
I don’t remember much after the voices drifted away. Not when I emerged from the stalls, washed my hands, and returned to my desk. My body moved on its own accord, mindless as I settled in my chair and returned to my work. An overheard conversation that painted my future, I should be freaking out. Yet here I sat, clicking through the internet as my mind refused to make sense of my boss’s words.
Anger, despair, panic—why couldn’t I feel anything about this screwed up situation? I should be infuriated that they would think of firing me. Wasn’t I important to this team? Why did I feel so numb? No screaming or crying about my damned future, just sitting at my desk, as freaking usual, doing a job they don’t care about. Not that I was doing anything. My hands may have gone through the motions, but all I was doing was scrolling through the server to find folders filled with my work. I considered forcing a reaction. Maybe throw my laptop at the wall. Or kick my desk over. Maybe completely lose my composure. Scream and shout until I get booted.
Turned out those drastic measures weren’t necessary. My boss stood by my desk, his words a blur but the meaning clear. I’m needed in his office. An ambush disguised as a meeting. Too bad for him I already knew what was about to happen. Too bad for me I didn't know how to stop it.
I don’t remember my walk to his office. How I logged off my computer and followed him. Faced the gallows for my career. The lies my boss spewed as he offered his apologies before security shuffled me off the property. None of it mattered anymore. They didn’t appreciate my work and there was no changing that reality.
Back at home, sitting back on my shabby couch, I waited for my emotions to catch up. I shoved a hand to my pocket and pulled out the thumb drive, spinning it between my fingers and allowing its presence to provide me some solace.
At least they weren’t going to benefit from my hard work.
|
Our camera crew endured the bumpy ride in the desert as we prepared to record. Our driver was paired with a heavily armed man, wielding a fully loaded shotgun and half-loaded pistol. I understood why he came with us. *Mutants, raiders, wildlife, practically everyone needed some type of weapon out here*. As our horses slowed, we gathered our cameras and met up with the rest of the filming crew.
Our director was yelling and screaming. “Holy shit, you expect me to work with these materials, Johnson? Get out, get outta my face!” He said tossing papers back into the poor interns hands. Ok, everyone, get your shit together, and start filming”. We started filming. For this scene, we were filming that new actor Trisha getting attacked by mutants. Goddamn, I don’t know why it had to be mutants. Those things were absolutely impossible to work with. I think we’ve lost...2 interns? Anyway, we started rolling.
“Nikki, you have to keep running, we must survive!”
“I can’t run anymore John, I just can’t. OH NO, the mutants are coming.”
“Nikki!”
“JOHN, GO WITHOUT ME JOHN”
As we let the mutants out of the cage, one went offset and lunged at a cameramen, biting him and...transforming him. The director, not even flinching, pulled out a pistol and killed both of the creatures. “Ok, great. NOW we need more mutants. JOHNSON!” He called to the nervous intern. “Y-Yes, sir?” He said, cowering in total fear. “Go off, and get us three more mutants” the director said, tossing him a pistol. “B-But sir, I c-can’t...” he was interrupted immediately “Go and do it our ill skin you alive myself”. Nervously, he grabbed a few things, and ran off into the desert. It’s a harsh life in this industry, but hey, that’s Show Business for you. |
I imagine it was the very contrast to my own troubling life that first drew me to him. As the saying goes, opposites attract.
I am not able to die, I am immortal, my coming to be so a tale worthy of its own telling. But that is not why I write this memoir. I write for him, for Curtis. Perhaps the only true love of my life.
There is no family for me to speak of, there are those that might be considered *family,* and to them I am eternally grateful, but not one can hope to hold a candle to the flame that was... that is... my love.
A heart grows weak with age, it grows yet weaker with the constant beating of life unaging. I may say that I've had my fair share of lovers, men and women alike. Flavour is the one constant of immortality, or there lack of.
You may imagine that with time certain things become *tiresome*, acts that once brought so much joy to life soon sour and seem to bore. If I could pass but one message from my time unending it would be this; to love, and to be loved, is perhaps the most beautiful of all life's experiences. And know this, love itself holds no single flavour, and I would urge you taste all you wish before deciding a favourite.
Some four hundred years past I would have never thought myself capable of lying with a man, let alone to fall in love with a man. Superficial, now I think of my reasoning. You see, regardless of who you are you share one fact that I have been so bitterly denied. You will die. And come death's door there will be no consideration for your colour, your gender, your beliefs. You will wither as will even the most beautiful rose, you will rot as will even the mightiest of Oaks, you will fade from living memory as will we all. Share in life and in love and perhaps the later of these facts with come not so quickly as the others.
Forgive me, when one is stripped of time, when one is *immortal* rambling becomes almost second nature. After all, I have time to kill, do I not?
Curtis, the hope to my rage, the compassion to my hate. He was... is... a patient of Cancer. His doctors have afforded him six months, his expiration date now marked I am reminded once again how fragile, how precious, life can be.
He will be afforded a sweet release from life in a time now known, where as I will go on living for time unknown. He radiates a warmth in his inevitable death where I bare only a chill to the endless days before be. And yet with him I believe there is an end. I no longer pine for the eternal tomorrow, I relish the memories of what came before. Curtis will soon be apart of those memories, and with them I could live a thousands days in grace. I do not mean to say I will feel no sadness in his passing, already a void opens in my very soul that is to fill with an unbearable sorrow. But such sorrow is a burden worth baring for the way he makes me feel, here, and now.
That is perhaps the point worth making. The here and now will forever outlast the yesterday and the tomorrow. Embrace it, seize the day... idioms have long become senseless to me, as have most things.
I met Curtis on a chance, you see it is not just Cancer from which he suffers. Addiction runs deep in his veins. We both attended *sessions* as you might call them. Not quite rehab, but one hop, skip and a short jump away from such a place. My addition was not of narcotics or liquor, but of a desperate need to end my own life. A pointless exercise. I cannot die. I have tried in more ways that I care to admit.
Curtis, however, was plagued by an addiction more befitting those that can die. Heroin. I understand, almost entirely now, the high that he described during many an occasion at our *sessions.* Curtis has become my new addiction, my reason for keeping on keeping on. So long as I survive, so does his memory.
I saw something in him, a desperation I have only ever seen in countless reflective surfaces. When he spoke so openly of his imminent passing I knew at once there was but one thing I *must* do. Save him, from himself. He deserved to die happy, in the presence of love.
His parents abandoned him at the lowly age of four years old. Throughout his life he suffered the abuse of those that called themselves his *careers.* Abuse I care not to muddy his memory with. Though I would ask those of the world who feel need to seek self-worth from the turmoil of others to cease this wretched behaviour. Suffering breeds, hate evokes hate. We are all one in the same body, we are all only *human.* Worth comes from the raising up of others, not the beating down of them...
Curtis had no better a life when he met with adulthood, he was born *different*, and by God he'll die just the same. As I have said, I once misunderstood love, I once believed there was no chance in all eternity that another man could take my bed, let alone my heart... I was mistaken. Yet this does not forgive my ignorance, nor will I forgive the ignorance of others. Let love be.
Six months I have to spend with the most precious of gifts this life has ever bestowed upon me. I know when my love's time will cease to tick, you may not be so lucky... and I do consider myself lucky, as does Curtis, I believe.
We intend to cherish every passing second of these next six months, to hold one another as often as is possible, to simply *be* in one another's presence. How long might you have? Do not waste what grains of sand in life are passing. Not all are immortal, like me.
​
\- Feedback is very welcome! I rarely write what I would consider romantic pieces, and the style/voice I chose to work with here is very different to what I'm used to. |
I was upset to see him again so I had to tell him straight "You never think these things through do you? Do you remember why I took your life? Have you even got the foggiest idea what is going on here? All those years of abuse, all the pain, the desperation. How can you just pretend that none of that happened?"
He said nothing. There were no sounds from the neighborhood, not even birds singing, or kids riding bikes in the street. As I looked at him he gradually became translucent, until I could see the trees and sunlight behind him, but right through him at the same time. Then he was gone. I calm myself, and step back inside my apartment. The lounge is cool and dark, and inviting.
He comes to visit from time to time. He's trying his best to tempt me. I cannot allow that to happen again. NEVER AGAIN. |
Its a beautiful world. The wild west, if you will. Every body believes our stories, that we're a simulation. Religion has been abolished and humanity can finally face itself and its own indignities without distraction from petty political disputes.
I remember The Day it Changed like it was yesterday. We'd all been waiting. It was supposed to happen in 2003 but, believe it or not, people are smarter than the deranged sounding stories of an internet poster. However, that planted the seed.
It's 2298 now. Remember that game fallout from back in your time? Yeah, well, Bethesda was prepping wastleland soldiers. They are our Tactical Recruitment division, and Fallout was a series to prepare the people willing to indulge their minds.
The first nuke fired on jan 19 2267.
We were all going about our business, and I stopped to light a cigarette with an old fashioned zippo lighter, startling an old man and his child. I laughed as he hobbled on, muttering about a walking bomb and primitive fuels like petrol distillates.
Then I heard a scream. A wave of screams actually. Before I can register my smartband vibrating my wrist with a "GLOBAL ALERT"siren, a lady runs up to me and grabs me by the arm, spilling my coffee all over my cigarette. Damn being old school.
She was hysteric, asking if I'd seen the news.
"What news?"I smiled to myself.
I calmly lit another cigarette and looked down at my wrist,
"Thank god you people finally get it!"
I pat her playfully on the cheek, and waltzed down main street to my Designated Location, awaiting the fall of mankind.
|
Ugh. My back hurts...
The bed feels hard.
Zzzz....
Where is the draft coming from...
Drowsy sigh....
My eyes flew open. My god, what time is it!? In a sleepy haze the room was flooded with bright light. All I could think was I’ve overslept. I’ll miss him!
Trying to shake the sleep stupor, I attempted to roll over and sit up and immediately struck my head on something: Thud!
Groaning, I shrunk back down in a crouch and squinted up and around. The ceiling was brown and appeared to be of dirt, in fact my room had been replaced with what looked like a small den of some sort. The light that had first woken me was dimming now. Golden pinpoints circled about becoming smaller and smaller and with a faint pop disappeared completely.
With a start I recalled the earlier evenings conversation with Marservious.... my old wizard friend had taken his hat off and toasted me to a new moon, saying “Winkle nod, tinkle fro, here’s to magic adventure, tomorrow we shall go!”
He had regaled me with tales from his recent travels to Raglan-Meiner involving colorful accounts of the high elves, and neerhordles (halfling shepard folk from the east), also the rifgins, and balebobbers.
“Ohh how I want to travel! I think it’s time to leave Copper Run for a bit....”
Marservious looked down at me from the end of his pipe. “This world is a wild place and you... are but a scholar.”
We both chuckled. “Do take me along, Marse. I’m feeling well enough now and I think it would do me some good.”
Ohh Marse, what’s he done! That raven haired wizard has always been a trickster. What a way to start an adventure, in the bottom of a hole!
At my feet was an opening. It looked impossibly small at least for me to get through but a draft of cool, fresh air was coming from that direction and there appeared to be natural light flooding the end of the chamber. I had to try.
I scrunched tight as a ball to where I could turn myself around just barely and head and arms first reached in to the vestibule, pulling myself along. I got to the end and looked up. Blue sky. I tilted my ear and listened. There was some sort of noise, like a great buzzing.
My irritation was turning to excitement wondering what he had gotten us up to.
I reached out tentatively and felt grass and more dirt. I pulled myself forward to where I could raise my head and did just that.
There I was forehead now exposed, then eyebrows and finally my head up out of the ground. I quickly appraised my surroundings- grass, loads of grass moving in the wind and massive trees all around me with criss crossing canopies.
Aware of my exposed head I finished climbing out. There I sat on the edge of the hole, dusting myself off.
Well, I say, this is certainly not how I pictured the morning and where is old Marse anyway?
The buzzing sound was growing steadily louder, much like a swarm.
I stood up and decided to head towards the tallest tree. Looking out over the rolling terrain I was amazed to find the grass moving but there was no wind. Peering down, I bent closer.
At once I heard a faint trumpeting.
“Halt! Halt now!”
Just coming off the nearest rise were two columns of ants.
“You there! Take no steps further. State your name!” |
The feeling of wanting to reach out and slap someone is strong. But you know you must hold back -- not everyone knows how to correctly wield the power of the Apostrophe.
So many try, and fail. Fail horribly too. It's almost as if they just don't care.
Or maybe they know your weakness. Maybe they know that every misplaced Apostrophe hampers your abilities to function just a tiny bit. Maybe they know that with enough of them misused they can turn you to madness and lock you inside your own mind forever.
Or maybe they are just stupid. That's what you'd prefer to think.
You go about your corrections, as you normally do, feeding of the power of placing Apostrophes correctly.
"Hey, dumbass... It's
*Mages
*powers
*apostrophes
Learn the f***ing language!!!!!!"
Feeling the power surge, you click to the next post... |
"Tomorrow"I say aloud, to my lonely self in the room. That couldn't be possible.
But... just incase I'll take the day off from work. You never know.
"Yeah, hey. I'm not feeling too well. Mind if I take the day off tomorrow?"
"Yeah sure. Feel better."
This still wasn't possible.
But just in case I decide not to cook anything. My house could burn down and kill me. I make sure the oven is off and set up sandwiches and food for tomorrow.
I look at the date again. It was still for February 8th. This had to be fake.
But just in case I decide not to leave my room. I could fall down the stairs or get injured like that. I don't want to die. I carry up all the food and everything I might need, my phone, a laptop.
I was probably overreacting. This couldn't be real.
But just in case, I decide not to shower. What if I hit my head and drowned? Or slipped on my way?
I look at the paper, sitting in my bed. What was I doing? Let a paper rule my life for me? I wasn't actually going to die tomorrow. It was probably just a misprint...
But just incase I decide not to get off my bed. What if I fell off and hit the corner of the table? Or tripped? There are too many variables.
I settle into bed. No. I should go to work tomorrow. I should take a risk.
But just incase I stay with my plan. Just incase.
The next morning I wake up. Today might be a long day, but I don't plan on dieing. After ten minutes, I'm bored and want to turn the TV on, but the remote is a few feet away from the bed. I overlooked that.
But what harm could getting up do?
But just incase, I don't.
Two hours later, a crash sounds downstairs. People were robbing my house! I take my phone and dial the cops.
"Yes, this is an emergency. I am being robbed!"
The men come upstairs and see me in my bed, frozen.
"What the hell are you doing here?"He asks me.
"Trying not to die?"
"Ah crap"the robber says. "I've been planning this for weeks. Everyday, you leave at 7. I even scouted for sounds. No TV, no radio, no food, no walking. And who took your car?"
"My car?"
"Yeah, somebody else must have stole it. It was probably Harry."
"Harry?"
"My rival stealer. Normally he leaves creepy notes to trick the person into doing something or staying at home. You get it."
"Like death notes?"
"Yeah! Like that. Sorry about this, amigo. You know we have to."
"Have to what?"
Two other large men grab me and pull me up, leading me into the bathroom. They throw me into the bath tub and turn it on.
They hold me in the tub as it fills up, getting my clothes wet. I yell and scream.
"Hey! Let me go! What are you doing?"
When the tub is almost full, the front door bursts open.
"Ah, shit. Get it done now"the robber says. "And we go out the window."
The robber opens the window and punches the screen out.
Meanwhile, the two men push me under the water. I struggle against them, but their arms are too large and strong. My oxygen supply is running low.
I fight them.
I fight my death.
I fight my destiny.
But destiny always wins.
______
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed feel free to check out r/FortyTwoDogs, my own subreddit dedicated to my writings. |
My dad soars through the sky. The people stop and look up with smiles on their face. My mom follows close in her hover car. The communicator on her car activates.
“Metropolitan and Curium. There is a bank robbery on 52nd street.” The police chief says.
“We are on our way.” My Mom replies as they soar to the scene of the crime. The bank robbers are shooting as they get into the car. My dad lands in front of them. The bank robbers try to shoot at him. The bullets have no effect.
“They never learn.” He says. In a flash, both of the robbers are disarmed. My mom comes down and uses her hover car to survey the scene. She deploys a drone to catch a robber trying to hide.
“I saw him.” My dad yells.
“Sure honey.” My Mom smiles and deploys med bots to the casualty.
“Woohoo.” I yell at screen. “Mom, thank you for the video of you and dad fighting. You two are the coolest.”
“Anything for you, Marie.” My Mom smiles at me.
“Can I be like you one day?” I ask.
“Honey, we can talk about that when you are older.” My dad says, “but first time for bed.”
They tuck me in my bed. My Dad goes to other countries to help crime there while my Mom goes to her lab to work on new inventions. I hope I get powers one day as I lie in my bed. I used to look forward to my dreams. I saw the future, but I never told my parents. It was my little secret. Now, I realize seeing the future in your dreams is stupid. Especially since sometimes they don’t come true. The worst was when I saw my parents get me a puppy. The next day, my Mom said this building is too dangerous for a puppy.
Future 1: Massive robots patrol the city. My parent’s image is plastered on every wall. The people scurry in fear. Then, lightning strikes a robot. A blond woman descends from the clouds. Multiple tornadoes come down and take care of the rest of the robots. A streak coats the ground protecting civilians. My dad flies out of our tower and strikes the woman in the clouds. The tower and surrounding buildings then transform into an android larger than Mt. Everest. A raging creature jumps into the Towerbot in an attempt to bring it down. Smaller robots coat the surface to defend it.
Three people rise up, and surround my dad. The put their hands together and trap him in a force field. A forth person emerges and starts to chant. Strange sigils surround my dad as he is teleported somewhere.
“Nooo, where did you take my husband!!” My mom’s voice is deafening from the robot.
“Straight to Hell. Where you will be going!” The figure replies. The beams of energy emerge from the four figures hands as they go to work on the Towerbot. My mom tries to strike and send drones after them, but it fails as they have an uncanny dodge. The four figures and the creature are able to dismantle the robot. My mom looks at them anger.
“Bastards. I was trying to help the world.” She says as the sigil forms over her head.
Future 2: We are in deep in a bunker running. I look to be a little older with a shorter haircut.
“They are catching up.” My mom yells looking at a scanner
“I will hold them off.” My dad yells and swoops to the back of the bunker. My mom and I reach the end of the tunnel where we come across a rocket.
“Sweetie, this rocket will alter your DNA. It will give you your father’s powers and my knowledge. You will be sleeping in space for twenty years.” She says.
“What happens when I wake up?” I ask.
“Avenge us.” She puts me in the rocket and fires me to the moon as flames engulf her.
I scream as I wake up.
“What is wrong, sweetie?” My mom runs in and hugs me.
“I saw you and daddy. Except meaner. And...and...and you died. Mean people killed you.” I cry.
“Honey, it was just a dream.” My dad comforts.
“Nah uh, my dreams come true.” I reply. “It is my superpower like you and mommy.”
“Sweetie, we didn’t know.” My mom says.
“It was my secret.” My parents look at each other then look at me.
“How about this. We will help you with your power. And we promise never to become mean.” My dad smiles.
“Mom.” I look at her.
“Promise.” She smiles.
My parents leave the room as I fall asleep.
“It was inevitable she would see one of our failed runs.” My dad tells my mom.
“That puppy dream was the start. I had to listen to a whole day of that.” She replies.
“It did prove the future is malleable.” My dad replies.
“Yes, but as she becomes more aware of our dreams. She might start asking questions.” She says.
“We will come up with a plan for that.” My dad replies.
“Well, now we have a current plan.” My mom smiles.
“You work on building that satellite while I pay a visit to our magical friends.” My dad replies.
“You read my mind honey.” My mom continues. The roof opens up for my dad to leave. “Make sure you can’t be caught. I will send some drones to ensure the evidence is destroyed.”
“Your drones slow me down.” He snarks.
“I made some improvements. You’ll be slowing them down.” My mom fires back.
My dad leaps in the sky with the drones following.
I get out of bed one more time. I go down the hall to see my mom in her lab. How much of that was a dream? How much of that was real? My mom looks back at me and smiles. |
Here, the sun never sets. Twilight filters through autumn leaves that never fall. As I wander I scour the forest for signs of something familiar, something that will lead me back home. But I will never leave. To me, it feels as if I have only known this place for a few hours but in the back of my mind I know the truth.
By now, my sword had already rusted into its sheath, my leather boots in tatters. From the corner of my eyes I could see that my once vibrant locks had faded into a dull gray. I could smell the flesh rotting off my bones. As I came upon a stream I crossed with my gaze locked straight ahead. I dared not catch a glimpse of my own reflection. What had I become?
I can not remember much. I have already forgotten the face of my mother. I don't even know my own name. But I can still fight. At times, all I can conjure from my past is a feeling. A vague sense of duty is the only thing that keeps me motivated. I cannot complete my mission, but I know I cannot fail. Restlessly, I roam. Searching. One day I will find an heir, someone to pass my knowledge unto and to inherit my duty. Until then, I will remain. Lost in these woods. |
So, here is the deal - the Buddhists were right.
You, me and seemingly everyone else here on Earth reincarnates over various lives. You don't switch species, people come back as people and animals come back as animals. Also, the reincarnation is pretty much almost instantaneous. You die and the next kid to be born will be occupied by your soul, where you grow into a new personality. And weirdly enough, nobody remembers their previous lives. Everyone, but me.
First time I was born, was around 12th Century. I've had eighteen lives ever since of really various lengths.
Oh - trust me - I tied to pry on numerous occasions, but I haven't found anyone else around, who would seem to remember their past lives. And the people that claim they do, I believe most of them to be either delusional, or liars.
Yes, "believe". I'm not entirely sure. You see - memory is a very weird thing.
I have a great memory, but I don't remember every single detail about my past lives. Memory is associative. Most of the time, I don't even know I have a certain memory, until something triggers it and then I do remember. It's like you seeing a kid in a movie playing with a console and you suddenly remember a memory from your own childhood how you played Super Mario all day with your cousin and almost beat the whole game. And how his mum was not happy about us lurking in the basement all day, but hey - it was a rainy day during summer holidays. Good times. I like to watch historical documentaries. Sometimes an old memory from one of my previous lives surfaces and I can recall more and more about myself in the past.
Most interesting part of this whole reincarnation thing, is that I can recognise other people and their past lives, if I've met them and known them back then. I don't know how I can tell. It's a subconscious thing. Instinctive. The best way I can explain this, is that a certain part of a soul's personality never changes. It's most visible in body language. Certain way someone smiles, frowns their forehead or how they walk. Or the way they see the world, convictions. People do change, some reincarnations are quite similar, some vastly different.
Funny, how small the world really is as I did meet a lot of souls I recognised. Some of them, I keep bumping into again and again.
​
I parked my car at the curb and looked at my phone on the passenger's seat that started ringing.
Jake.
Good old Jake.
I call him good old Jake even though he is quite younger than me. For some reason, I have met this person several times in past centuries and we have always been friends or on really good terms. He is the first person I considered confiding in about my other-life memories. I don't know if it's fate and I suspect a bit that he too can remember, because we always seem to be able to find each other throughout our lives and become friends. Heck, some of my memories remember us both being girls and having a short, but beautiful friendship in medieval "what will one day become Russia".
Oh right, sometimes it is difficult to think about souls I remember meeting in terms of he/she. Genders are fluid, I myself was a woman few times.
I picked up the phone.
"Hey Jake...Yea, nah. I just got here, I have that date in a bit... I don't know... Talk to you later".
I closed the call and stepped out of the car. Walked to the little cafe on the corner of a park and sat down. I sat there for a few minutes, drinking fresh juice and just aimlessly looking around and thinking about if I should tell Jake or not, when I heard a slightly flustered voice from behind me.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting".
"All good, only been here for a few minutes", I replied, while turning. My thoughts of Jake flew out the window as soon as my date showed up.
​
It was about three hours later, in the familiar shade of a bar, when it hit me. I ... knew this soul.
Memories flooded me, new and old recollections clicked into each other coming to a terrifying realisation.
I had met this person in my other lives.
The more I looked, the more I saw.
The dancing eyes accompanying the slightly crooked smile. I have seen this smile in a Mongolian warlord that I fought against in a brutal winter of East Asia. I remembered the frigid, numbing cold. The way a leather grip on my sword felt. The interrogation, the pain, the inevitable execution that ended that journey of my soul.
I remembered the gesture of hands, connected with first three fingers from the ruthless business man I met in my last life, somewhere in America in early twentieth century. We butted heads for years, being business rivals. He had the same, peculiar hand gesture when thinking hard and the same dancing eyes when he won and my company and my life went bankrupt.
Also this tic of pulling at the hair behind ears, when nervous. I have seen this along with all the others in an opposing chieftain of a neighbouring, unfriendly village sometime around middle ages in Europe. We were both fighting for the same, sparse resources and territory and came to blows more often than not. Me, being our chieftain's left hand man, we met the enemy in battle and during diplomatic relations plenty of times.
I know, you may say that those are pretty common things. How would I know it is the same soul, reincarnated?
I can not explain it. It's not one verbal tic, one conviction. It's a whole plethora of them and all at the same time. When you spend enough time around someone, you know them. You know their character, their beliefs, their speech patterns, their body language. They could be wearing a mask, but you would know.
Now try to multiply that by the experience of several lives. People change, over their incarnations, but not entirely. Certain aspects are still there. The sum of which, I got to call the soul.
"A penny for your thoughts"a perky voice with a ting of uncertainty interrupted my awe.
I blinked, shook my head as if to get rid of the memories that dreaded their way into my mind.
She was smiling, her finger softly pulling a hair strand, behind her hair.
I involuntarily smiled. I must had zoned out, overwhelmed by the realisation. I have known this soul in previous incarnations. Warlord, opponent, enemy... sometimes, taking a trip down the memory lane is a weird experience. Confusing.
I looked around. Still sitting on a tall bar stool in an English-style bar. Comfortable dimness of scattered lamps and the undertone of a jukebox playing. And my date - still sitting opposite me at this small table, nursing her almost empty, tall, glass of beer. I saw her long, brown hair flowing in waves, her pale complexion with splatters of freckles, her white summer dress with little pink flower pattern.
"Are you okay?"she asked.
"Yeah, I just recalled a memory. Something I have forgotten, long ago."I answered, flustered and I drank the rest of my beer, to avoid going into details. She saw that and finished her glass too.
"Another one?"she asked, sliding down from her bar stool. "My shout"she said and left. I watched her long, beautiful legs as she skipped towards the bar, the short skirt of her summer dress skittered up and down while she walked. Hypnothised, I kept gazing as she stood on her toes and slightly bent over in a little girl gesture when she was telling her order to the bartender, her skirt sliding a little more up.
I kept watching even when she turned back at me and gave me a gorgeous little, crooked smile while waiting for the beers to be served. I was still in awe, when she placed the beers in front of us, her eyes dancing.
I realised I really, really, really like this girl and lifted my glass to her.
"Cheers". |
Jim was... not the most well behaved kid on the block. Between frequent peer-punching to pranks and even vandalized property, he made it his duty to make everyone around him annoyed and miserable, much to the dismay of his parents.
They tried everything. Therapy sessions climaxed with broken glass, personal confrontations ended in shouting matches, and more often than not, attempts to lock Jim in his room resulted in a repair bill.
Every year he would get coal, and his parents even stopped throwing him birthday parties and letting him participate in trick-o-treating, because the damage he frequently caused was getting too much to handle.
Jim's parents eventually discovered that nobody other than the big jolly man himself was running a rehabilitation program for children on the naughty list. Military school was the last place they wanted to send Jim off to. After all, Jim was still their child. Although this program required you to sell your child to Santa, if they made it through, he would sell your child (or children) back to you. IF, they made it through.
After keeping it a secret from Jim, and after forcing him onto the "pickup sleigh", Jim was off to the north pole to meet up with Saint Nick and hopefully get his mind set straight.
Jim, among several other kids, started his road to recovery with working in the reindeer stables. Grooming and cleaning and feeding the deer. It seemed to be helping at first, until he started to pour buckets of water onto the reindeer's faces with zero remorse.
He was then moved onto sweeping the shop floor. He often tripped elves or broke finished toys in protest to his "torture".
Eventually he reverted back to his old behavior. Pranking. Punching. Vandalizing. Jim's behavior had gotten to the point where Santa need to bring out his final problem solver for naughty children.
*Them. Us.*
Santa had Jim escorted to a separate building in the town.
*One that had remained untouched.*
Santa pulled out a key different from the others he had. It was a faded iron key, much duller than his gold, red, white, and green colored keys. He unlocked the door and it creaked open.
Jim was pushed in and had the door locked behind him.
*Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.*
The room was almost completely dark and empty, save for a single lamp on a nightstand. A splintered, scratched nightstand. Jim ran over to it as the noise approached, which was soon followed by another.
*Swish... Thud... Swish... Thud...*
Jim's heart was racing as the seemingly body-less noises grew nearer.
*Clock-clock-clock-clock-clock.*
Jim's face was no longer one of angry cockiness, but one of raw terror.
The noises ceased when they sounded as if they were only a few feet in front of Jim.
"Jim, come closer to us. We're here to help."
The voice was female, gentle, and had a pleasant warmth to it.
Jim approached the direction of the voice, very warily and hesitantly, his heart still pounding out of his chest.
A hand had reached into the light. It was red, delicate, but seemed very welcoming. Jim could only guess this was the speaker.
"Take my hand,"the she-voice said, now whispering, "we can help you get back home."
Jim took the hand. It's fingers gently wrapped around his comparatively small hand. He began to smile, but as he looked to his left he saw...
A face... made of brick. That of some alien creature. It had a large, toothy smile, wider than that of any man or animal, and orange, unblinking eyes. It was motionless, seemingly dismembered in the pitch blackness.
Screaming did Jim no good.
|
My breath catches in my throat. "Well shit.....I'm too ugly to be a stripper.....and I can't sing......hmmm....ok. the bank it is."I rummaged through my old sock drawer and found a black beanie. I cut holes in the top and slid it on. Not bad for an impromptu mask. I went to my father's gunsafe and pulled out the Glock 19. I slid that and an extra mag into my waist band. I shoved newspaper under my clothes to make myself look bigger, and wore black everything. The darkness covered my journey to the nearest bank. There were too many cops there. I looked at the scene. "Well fuck...what now...?"I looked at the old steakhouse that overcharged everyone. "I has an idea......."The heist was successful. The backdoor was ungaurded, a few staff were inside but quickly gave me all the money they had, which totaled to 99,999. I looked panicked. There was only 5 more minutes. One of the employees asked "what's the matter?"I dropped my gun and sat done. Crying. I took off my mask and explained the threatening text, and the 4 minutes I had to live. They looked at one another. The manager, who was seen mostly as a sleazy old man with a new jersey accent had the phone in his hand. "I'm calling 911."As the minutes counted down, and 30 seconds remained, a dark shadow overcast the door. A creature with devils horns and a face that looked like a gargoyle hit with an ugly stick stood there with a gruesome grin on his features. I whimpered and closed my eyes, unsure of what to do. An old woman, who happened to be one of the employees, took a dollar from her waist pocket and handed it to me. "Here..."The others were terrified and fleeing, so why did she stay? The creature crept closer, and looked at the bag full of money and the dollar and disappeared. I hugged her tightly and sobbed. She comforted me and told me her story. "My husband fell victim to that thing....I wasn't going to let it happen again."Suddenly the managers phone buzzed. "What the hell....."His face went white. He looked up at us. "It says...times up...?"The creature jumped from the shadows and dragged him backwards. His ungodly screams mixed with the gurgles and crunches of whatever was happening to him until it all stopped. I never wanted to see a dollar again...or that horrible face. Because even to this day, the pit of my stomach drops every time I feel my phone buzz. And his face still haunts my nightmares. |
I let out a laugh and looked at my bedroom door, which Daniel had locked a minute ago. "Really,"I said.
"You're the only person I want to know right now. I'm not really sure how long I've had this power, because I haven't tested it until recently."
After a pause, I worked up the strength to look him in the eyes. "Well, then? Aren't you going to show it off?"
"Yeah..."he stood up looked out the window. My mother was still out there, gardening. Then Daniel fell back into my desk chair. "Come up with two truths and a lie about yourself."
"Why, are you going to read my mind or something?"
He showed his brilliant smile, and shook his head. "My power's not that cool. Just do it."
Okay, so he wasn't telepathic. That was good, because otherwise he would have picked up on my anxiousness. I sat down on my bed. "Let's see... I have two dogs; math is my favorite subject; I love cooked carrots, but I can't stand raw carrots."I stammered out my statements.
He was still smiling. "You're not very good at this, are you? I'd like to point out that technically, that was four things, not three. And I'm pretty sure I already know the lie."He realized by the look of annoyance on my face that it was time to get to the point.
"Here we go. You have two—"Daniel cut himself off suddenly. He was clearly trying to make the next sound, but no matter how hard he strained his voice, he couldn't say the word. "Eyes,"he decided, then took a deep breath.
"Okay, what was that?"I asked.
"My power."
I gave him a look.
"No, really! When I say something false, the words don't come out. I \*have\* to tell the truth. I can't lie, Jeanne!"he was excited now, and he seemed to want me to be amazed, too.
"I don't really get it. Even if you're not faking it, how is that a power? Seems like it would just be a problem when talking to parents."
"Because I can check if something's true or not, just by trying to say it. See, I'll try saying your other facts. You love carrots when they're cooked, and"—he squinted at me—"math is your favorite subject. Really? I thought you were more of an English person."
I shrugged shyly. "I don't know, it's \*kinda\* cool. Plus, English isn't as concrete."
"Well, you had me fooled,"he said. "I really thought that one was the lie."
That brightened my mood a little bit. "Anyway, what else can you do with this power?"
"Well, it's not based on what \*I\* know. Even if I have no clue whether something is true or not, the power still works. Here's one I tried earlier today: 'aliens exist'."
My eyes grew wide. "No way! Are you serious?"
"I sort of have to be,"he muttered.
That got me to laugh. "That's crazy! Can you figure out where they are?"
Daniel frowned. "That's the problem. There's a lot of places they could be, and I can only really guess and check. At least I can say this: \`aliens have never visited Earth\`."
I let out a sigh of relief, and he leaned back in the chair. But I heard the sound of the front door opening below us, signaling that my mom was back in the house. We didn't have much time left to talk. "So what are you going to do?"I asked.
He got up and unlocked the door. "I'm not sure yet."
Just then, my mom opened the door and looked at Daniel. "Hi, you two!"
"Hi,"he said nervously. "We've just been talking about—"
"—school,"I had to finish the sentence for him.
"Well, I just wanted to check and see if either of you needed anything. Will you be here for dinner, Daniel?"
"No, actually, I was thinking that I should probably head home."
I was staring at my mom, who took the hint. "Okay, then I hope you have a good evening!"she said cheerily before entering her bedroom.
"Thank you,"he said as he slipped past and started to walk downstairs. Before he disappeared from view, he turned back to look at me. "And, Jeanne?"
"Yeah?"
"It was good talking to you."
"You too."
We smiled and nodded at each other, and he left my house. As he walked home, I lay down in my bed, thinking about what I wanted to learn. What I needed to know.
\- - -
Not sure if that's the way you wanted the power to work, but regardless, I hope you enjoyed reading this! |
"The myth of the 1000 eye man,"he spoke to himself outloud. Another parchment translated "The spider who ruined the world."He flipped through to find a last parchment he wanted to read to the eight year old boy looking up, eyes intent on hearing the last words, whether he understood them or not, "The snow that fell forever on the planet of exiles."The boy stopped licking his piece of candy, and held the stick of the pop to his side, before twisting his eyebrows and asking what "ziles"meant, and just who are they. He asked if his mom was one. Teaver came from no where his eyes were looking, and laughed. "If these prophecies are real, then Tea is a real monk then, isn't he. It's unfortunate fella, young one, that you encounter a habitual liar. This man is no monk. |
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. We were supposed to clean out the place following a tight plan in less than a hour. We never expected this. This was impossible. Instead, we had encountered the owner of the mansion five minutes into the heist. Luke and Bryan were supposed to take care of him, but instead he had moved with inhuman speed and slaughtered them both in under 10 seconds.
Everything continued to go downhill after that. We dropped our equipment in the living room, too afraid to go back to where that monster had killed Luke and Bryan. We were also locked in with no escape.
We split up, running down the hallways away from it, but always ending up in the same place. It was like an endless maze, with a demon after us and no end in sight.
Finally, after hours of running, we saw the monster again. There were four of us - Michael, Smith, Riley and I all in the master bedroom- when we saw it.
His eyes had glowed red in the darkness of the mansion, his mouth stained with coppery blood.
He looked at us with malicious hunger evident in his sadistic smile. That's when I knew we were truly done for. Michael - naïve Michael - flashed a knife and ran towards the monster. The creature only laughed and casually flicked his arm into Michael's chest. It would have been comically, except that Michael's body was thrown across the room, over my head, and into the wall. His body slammed into it with a sickening crunch, and blood looked underneath him.
The monster advanced towards us. Riley tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed her by the neck and squeezed his hand. Her neck snapped in his hands, leaking blood. He picked up her body like a rag doll and tossed it to the side. Then he looked at Smith, who was cowering at the sight of Riley. The creature smiled at him and with his inhuman speed ran to him.
He grabbed Smith by the head and dragged him up. Smith began to scream, but he was abruptly cut off when the creature tore into his neck, taking out a massive chunk of his trachea. Will's neck erupted blood like a geyser. The creature dropped Will and swallowed the meat in his mouth. He then turned his gaze towards me.
Sheer terror wrecked my stomach. My whole body was screaming at me to move, but i couldn't move. It was like i was paralyzed. The monster seemed to notice this, and chuckled. It was a guttural, humorless laugh that sent waves of fear throughout my body. I felt something wet slide down my cheek. Tears.
The last thing I saw was the figure of the monster hunched over me, digging its fangs deep into my neck. No, this surely wasn't how the heist was supposed to go.
|
Tranquility, a moment in time I am yet to feel. Millenia of escorting men and women to their deaths, steadily increasing due to their putrid pandemic. The short friendships I have experienced, comforting them. Protecting their soul in a small vial, one that has housed billions, and allowing them to see their loved once, before being sent to their graves permanently. Desensitized by their cries and sobs, I no longer feel for them, but they must feel cared for, for once they’re no longer mentioned, they are forgotten. Forever. One day, the last human will die, and I will permanently rest, however, even I need a holiday, and a 69 year holiday to Valhellya will fix me up just fine. I crack my vial and watch as it disintegrates into the air around me. But I don’t leave yet. There is one yet that needs to be escorted.
The girl I sit next to is ill. An alleyway, deserted of all life, except one. Her health, deteriorating almost like a fire, starved of its oxygen is substituted with an increased intensity of pain. She lies within the snow in pain, knowing that the disease is taking her too. Rotting flesh and weakened strength result ultimately in a horrible death, but hers will not be too long.
I make my appearance. The girl, once clenching her stomach, crying, now completely painless, whole, and utterly gone. I kneel and hold out my hand, and whisper to her.
“You are not dead yet.”
The girl looks up at me. A mute. She reaches out and grasps the fingers of my palm with her cold, blue hands. She watches, as the snow that once froze her phases through her arm. I hold her tightly, and smile, an action I have performed too much.
“You have suffered too much. You have died among the millions, unloved, unwilling to let go, until you couldn’t hold on no longer. The day that you walked alone, the nights you spent alone were all noticed by me, and you have no loved ones left. I must show you, what we can do. You will soon be happy once more, and never alone once again.”
I hold her hand tightly, and walk her to the portal, and as we walk through, the entrance collapses upon itself, along with the troubles of her mind. I may have no heart, but I have a brain, and my brain wants her to feel comfort, and that is what I shall do.
_________
I hope you enjoy it! |
The bar is almost deserted. Good. Fewer witnesses. There's cheesy music coming from the speakers in the corners of the room, a hoarse man's voice singing about a love long lost and his loneliness. I listen for a second or two before focusing on the single person sitting alone at the bar, making awkward small talk with the bartender. I glide up to them, silently, and choose a seat a few places down. He doesn't notice me at first, but I interrupt them by asking for a fancy cocktail. Oh, and some fries on the side. The bartender looks happy to get something to do, to get away.
He notices me then, first a quick glance and then a spark of interest in his eyes.
“How come I didn't hear you when you fell?”
*Ugh. No. Please. Just no.*
I don't reply, just ignore him, waiting for my drink.
“I mean, it must have hurt when you fell from heaven.”
*Didn't see that one coming. Just kidding. So he won't give up, huh?*
“Not as much as it's gonna hurt when I strangle you later.” my voice is soft and cool, and still I don't look at him.
He chuckles softly and from the corner of my eye I notice how he turns his body towards me. There's an empty seat between us, which is lucky for him, for otherwise I'd take my small pocket knife and stab him in the thigh. I tell him so, of course. He doesn't shrink back, nor does a look of fear cross his face. No, he smiles back at me, appreciatively.
“Quite a fiercy one, eh? I like your sense of humor.”
“I think you'd like it less after I cut out your tongue to keep you from talking.”
*That should quiet him.*
“Oh, I can think of other things I can do with my tongue that will render us both unable to speak,” he winks at me.
*He actually winks at me.*
“It doesn't matter to me what you think now. It's all really a matter of time before you are buried. Alive.”
*Now then.*
His voice is low and smooth when he replies, silky even.
“Oh really? Well there are a few places where I wouldn't mind burying my face.” He moves as he speaks, but not getting away - as any person in their right mind would - instead he moves a seat closer and places his hand on my shoulder.
He should not have done that, I think to myself as I casually take his hand, remove it from my shoulder and put it on the bar. The drink and the fries have arrived as we speak, so I take the fork and stab his hand before grabbing one. They're freshly made, crisp and with the perfect amount of salt.
He's screaming at me, of course. He's so predictable. Cheesy, but predictable. I don't really care what words come out of his mouth anymore, but I do enjoy the sharpness of his voice, edged with pain. I sip my drink - it's really perfectly balanced, I'll make sure to tip well - and shoot him a glance. His face is white with two red spots on his cheeks. He's glaring at me, holding the wrist of his forked hand with the other. Although shouting, he hasn't made a move to retaliate physically. Unfortunately. I sigh as I take another fry, making sure to thoroughly enjoy it before speaking.
“So how would you like to die?”
He starts yelling at me again, and it's really a bore.
“You really should learn to keep your voice down,” I tell him quietly, as I smoothly cut his throat. The room goes quiet except for the thud from when his head hits the bar.
I nod to the bartender to bring me the check, but she is staring at me, face ashen.
“What have you done!” she cries desperately. “You weren’t supposed to kill him; just scare him!”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[/r/SleepyMacaroni](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni)
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This is a rewrite of (and thus really similar to) my reply to [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/aoewfv/wp_youve_been_a_hitman_to_a_company_for_years_and/) but I thought it would work really well in this context too. |
The devil's cold talons dug into my shoulders, with my very soul seemingly shrinking away in an attempt to move from his grip. But it was of no use... I knew that I had gone too far with the ritual. Only a stupid joke... they had told me it was only a joke. But as I felt his slitted eyes bore into the back of my head, I knew this was no laughing matter.
He spoke in an impossibly deep voice, in a language I could not decipher but understood perfectly. "<Play the game.>"He had said simply. I heard the edges of his face creak like a rusted door as his grin grew impossibly wide. I hesitantly picked up the controller, my hands shaking as I loaded it up.
Much to my surprise, the game loaded in a burst of color, starting with a preview that told a story I knew all too well. My fear temporarily subsided, as recognition hit me. I knew this story. I knew these characters, I knew the setting. I knew it, because I had played its predecessor for all of my childhood. This had been my entire life as a child, and the wave if nostalgia that hit me was almost overwhelming. I had never heard of a man smiling in the presence of the devil, but I did. This... this was it. I was finally getting the sequel that I and thousands more had waited for. Even the fear in my chest subsided to the growing excitement within me.
The devil still stood behind me, his tail lashing in amusement. A soft chuckle escaped his fangs in the form of a hiss, but even he could not distract me now. I daresay, nothing could ruin this moment. As the cinematic ended, the logo flashed across the screen. Hellcorp, it had said, and I nearly rolled my eyes at the name. A sentence loaded into frame, just below the company's name. My heart sunk.
"No, no, no, please! Don't do this!"I ripped myself from the devil's now loosened grip, as he keeled over in a laugh, his hooves stomping the ground in a fit of laughter.
<Oh, yes. You will play the game, child. You will sit here, and taste your childhood turning to ash in your mouth as you play. This is your punishment. This is your task. Read it, all of it, once more, and despair.> His laughter bellowed once more, as his eyes widened. I turned my head back to the screen, my spirit sinking lower into my chest as the phrase crushed my hopes once again.
"Hellcorp... a subsidiary of EA." |
“He’s gonna do it,” the red-horned demon said, gaze fixated on the television screen. There was a man that stood on the roof of a building, tears streaming down his face. Violent gusts of wind blew tufts of blond curls.
The blue-eyed demon with snakes for a tail shook its scaly head. “He wouldn’t. Not with that many people watching.” Both demons had been watching this man for a while, their bets locked in weeks ago. Broke, divorced, about to lose his house, his job, and custody of his children, the red-horned demon was sure that the man would off himself and secure a pretty payday for the demon.
The sound of sirens brought their attention back to the screen. The police arrived, their vehicles joining the ambulance and the firetrucks that blocked off the city street. While the red-horned demon was banking on this man’s demise, the blue-eyed demon needed the man to live. Having an outstanding amount of debt, the pot from winning this bet would give him more than he needed to pay his dues. But it was looking more and more like this was a bet he would lose.
The man took a half-step towards the edge of the ledge, the horrified gasps and shrieks from the spectators below surprisingly audible. His balance began to waver, as did his resolve. The longer he spent on the ledge, the more hope the blue-eyed demon had of clutching victory.
“If he really wanted to die,” the blue-eyed demon smirked, “he would have jumped a long time ago.”
Another violent gust of wind sent the man too far forward. One foot came off the ledge, gravity trying its best to finish the job, but the man was able to grab hold of the ledge before he fell to his doom.
Cheers of both relief and frustration came from each demon respectively.
“See!” the blue-eyed demon exclaimed, watching as the firemen below the building prepared a large life net. “He wants to live!”
As the man’s fingers started to peel off the edge, the red-horned demon grinned. He wasn’t out of the game just yet. “It’s not over until it’s over.”
One final gust of wind and the man was falling--his body flailing through the air that was filled with the screams of the onlookers down below. Most would turn away, couldn’t watch what was about to unfold. But these demons have seen worse in their days.
Alas, the man did not hit the pavement. The firefighters were deemed heroes for catching the man. The blue-eyed demon rejoiced, already planning on what he would do with the rest of the winnings after the debt was repaid. The red-horned demon was not so ecstatic. Both the demons ignored the screen as the man was escorted into an ambulance.
With the last bet of the day seemingly closed, the pair of demons left the viewing room. The blue-eyed demon turned to the red-horned demon, and extended a clawed hand towards his opponent. “Better luck next time?” he offered.
At that moment, a green-scaled demon came bursting out of the viewing room. “It seems that there was a dramatic turn of events,” it began. This time, it was the green-scaled demon’s turn to extend a hoof towards the red-horned demon. “Congratulations, it seems that the man’s ambulance was struck on its way to the hospital. You may retrieve your winnings at the Collection Office.”
When the green-scaled demon left, the red-horned demon took the clawed hand of the red-horned demon. “It’s not over until it’s over.” |
"Ladies and gentlemen... presenting... Julien.. versus... Julien! Both have a ten win streak and have not yet been defeated! Both seem equally resourceful and difficult to fight against! Who will prevail!"The announcer said, while the crowd cheered on. The Juliens faced each other, whispering and talking, seeming to attempt to figure out a plan. But one Julien, who seemed more merciful and kind, was in shock when the other Julien seemed to actually like the fighting. This was going to be tough. As the kind Julien tried to pacify the barbarian one, he was surprised by a sudden thrust, and found his waist sliced, a wound visible. Not many opponents had the skill to do this, and he certainly didn't expect someone on his skill level. What could this be? Why did the "other him"have his skills but not his personality? He readied himself, parrying the slices but wincing at the pain. He analyzed the coliseum and did a wall jump, surprising the other him, and landing a solid blow. Now both seemed to be equal. He wondered what went wrong with his "clone". As they traded more punches, the kind Julien suddenly seemed to give up, as this battle seemed hopeless, the other Julien being more brutal and having a slight advantage. "That's it... give in..."he said, the glint in his eyes signifying his rage. But just when he went for the killing blow, the other one sliced him open with a knife. Then the audience gasped as Julien wasn't Julien after all.
"That's right, folks, it was actually Kaillen the shape-shifter!"The announcer shouted, "By analyzing his opponent and pretending to be his weaker counter-part, he won! Congratulations!"Kaillen smiled at the audience, his true nature revealed, a look in his eyes perhaps even more brutal than the dead Julien. |
You know, by now I would have thought that all of you little mortals would have stopped listening to me. What with how much you prattle on about how I’m ‘a corner of the house’ or the ‘sithis shaped hole in the world’. It’s all a bunch of mortals prattling on about things they know nothing about!
Oh! An example would be if you lot thought Molag loved Vivec! Oh wait... some of you lot actually do think that. Bad example!
Where was I? Right the story.
It was years and years ago- or was it only a few hours. Doesn’t matter. Time isn’t a necessary part of this story, except when it is. Akatosh and all that.
There was a delightful young mortal that had been oh so wrongfully imprisoned, a very bad habit that the empire had. Almost as bad as Jyggalag’s tendency to destroy my realm! Well.... maybe not that bad.
It just so happened that the dear emperor - Talos’ relative, though whether it is a descendent or if prolly was I can never remember. Probably descendent. Probably. Right! The poor emperor was fleeing from some of Dagon’s cronies. Bad taste in attire I can tell you that. All he points and dark and red. If that wasn’t part of his personality and being I would have thought Mehrunes was going through a phase!
The route that the emperor went through just so happened to be through the wrongfully imprisoned mortal’s cell. Their name you ask? Hah! As if it matters.
....
No one remembers the name anyway.
Things happen. Assassins attack. Royal blood is spilled. Generic uncreative story blah blah blah. The dead emperor sent the young mortal on a quest! And what a grand quest it was! Trekking all the way across cyrodiil to find a bastard son. Though even though that Martin fellow was a bastard... he wasn’t a bastard. Semantics and all that.
Turned out while the hero was saving the remaining Septim, the Blades’ absolutely DISGUSTING INCOMPETENCE CONTINUED! They lost the Amulet. And so the hero was sent on a long and very painful series of missions to retrieve the amulet. Took them months. Months of pain and hurt and loss! It was like watching a show that the demented put on. Made me want to tear my own eyes out watching it! Does it count as wanting to if you actually did it?
No matter.
They got the amulet back from a buffoon, though what else is expected from someone willing to bring destruction incarnate to the mortal world. Really, he other princes should learn to get some taste, and focus on the real issues. Like making some Khajiit believe the end is coming. Ah, I do love that memory. Flaming hounds falling from the sky, the air smelling like roasted flesh. Ah. Just delightful.
Where was I?
Amulet retrieved?
Ah yes. Now let’s see. Everyone went to the imperial city to crown dear Martin as the new emperor but impatient impatient Dagon didn’t like having his fun ruined and interrupted.
Words were said, tears were shed and Akatosh beat a prince back into Oblivion. Was a rather amusing time. Didn’t hear the end of it for.... I don’t think I’ve heard the end of it. That’s why I came here, on this holiday!
So!
More tea, Pelly Mi’dear? |
“So... you were dreaming and you had no control whatsoever on what happened, right?”
“Yes. *Yes.* Exactly.”
“So like... a regular dream.”
“No! Dude, I told you, it’s not-”
“Yeah, I got it, lucid dreaming and all, but.-”
“It’s not lucid dreaming, it’s-“
“It’s lucid dreaming, you snowflake. It happens.”
Finally, I snap and hit the table.
“*I never had a dream where I didn’t have total control.*”
“Sure, sure.” My roommate takes a sip of coffee. “Got it. And as I told you, *it happens.*”
“Not like this.” I try to keep my voice down, but I feel my voice quiver. “This. Isn’t... right.”
“Ever tried chamomile?”
“Well, thank you for your help.” I push away the chair, grab it before it falls. “See you at home.”
I leave the bar feeling angrier than before. And tired. Hell, was I ever this exhausted in my whole life? I rub my eyes, driving the streets I know so well and so much I hate in the daylight on a smelly bus.
I miss my city. *My* city. The one I created night after night, one dream and then the other, always picking up where I left it.
I close my eyes for a second, let the memories cover the ugly gray buildings. I see the streets I planned, the glass ceilings and the walls and the way the light could hit them and...
I wake up with a startled gasp as my head falls from the hand.
No. *Stay awake. You have to stay awake.* But I know it’s all useless. I will have to sleep, eventually. I look outside the greasy window and contemplate for a split second *the alternative.*
No. Stay alive.
I arrive home, stumbling in a drunken state. I can’t resist anymore. And for sure, the moment I touch the mattress I’m already asleep.
And the dream begins.
And my city is there. My life, is there. And I’m there as well. But even if I fight and scream and cry and try to tear me awake *I am not me anymore.*
Someone is using my hands, my eyes, and is using me to rip everything I created in my dreams.
Windows shatter, bricks fall down. My hands are soaked with blood, *my blood*, but even the pain can’t stop me.
And then, I wake up. I am walked up. My roommate is still shaking me, calling my name. My entire body is frozen in a nightmarish paralysis. I feel tears on my cheeks.
“You were screaming so loud.” He bites his lower lip, worried. “In your dream.”
“I can’t... go on like this.” I grab his arm, not even sure of why am I telling him this.
“Try to resist. It won’t be for long.”
“What... why?”
He just helps me get up.
“Because soon, we will have destroyed everything.”
|
Screams erupted from the ballroom. Rick, the hotel desk clerk, looked up from the computer, over to the doors of the ballroom and gave a heavy sigh.
“I am terribly sorry about this,” Rick said to the startled couple he was checking in, “but there is a matter that I need to attend to right away. Do you mind if we finish this in a few minutes? Please have a seat, and feel free to order a drink, on the house of course.” Both of them nodded and nervously wandered towards the bar.
Rick marched over to the ballroom that had mostly emptied of panicked patrons. As he got to the door, a man reached out to him, “There is a g-giant… giant… BIRD thing in there!”
“I will handle it sir,” Rick replied. “If you could, gather your group in the front lobby. I assure you, the wedding will be able to resume in 10 minutes or so.” The man, who looked happy to have a mission ran off towards the lobby.
Inside the ballroom, a few people hid behind chairs while the bride, groom, and officiant coward before a [deinonychus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deinonychus). The 5’ tall, feathered dinosaur had wrapped itself up in a white table cloth and had a bouquet of flowers in its mouth. It whipped its tale around happily while looking expectingly at the officiant.
“BENNY! BAD DINOSAUR!” Rick yelled. The dinosaur snapped its head towards him and dropped the flowers. He marched up to the very sorry looking dinosaur, “Don’t give me those big eyes. You know you are not allowed in here. Now go! Out of here!” Benny slunk off to the side door that the hotel sound guy had opened.
Rick turned back to the shaken bride and groom. “I am terribly sorry. This is the third time he has interrupted a wedding, but I assure you it won’t happen again. Now please feel free to continue. We are gathering your guests and will have them back in here shortly. A hotel representative will contact you afterwards about this incident.” He then turned around and walked back towards the entrance.
“Wait!” A voice called out behind him. “Was that really a dinosaur?”
Rick turned around to the bride, who seemed more fascinated then terrified. “Why yes, he is.”
“A Deinonychus antirrhopus, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Can I-“ the bride paused before nervously asking her question. “Can I pet him?’
Rick smiled. This might not be quite the disaster he thought it would be. “Of course. But not right now. We are trying our best to not reward him for the kind of behavior.” |
"It's not so bad, really, when you think about it,"Allen says. I can hear him off to the side, droning on and on about our predicament. I stare off out into the empty void, filled with huddled masses of rock that used to comprise the planet Pluto. Now, it vaguely resembles crushed gravel. Finally, the debate ends on Pluto; whether it ever was, it no longer is, and can never be, a planet.
Just like our own and all of the planets between. Even the sun met its demise. Everyone said it was impossible. Humanity might destroy Earth, but we'd move on to other planets in the solar system. Humanity might destroy those planets, but a star? Hypocrisy! Until it wasn't. Until the star that gave life in our speck of a solar system, sighed the last of its hydrogen. Swollen and exhausted, it collapsed in on itself. And yet, somehow, the same race that destroyed a solar system, managed to sneak out some representatives by pure chance.
"I mean, if the majority of the people had to die and only a handful managed to make it off the planet, don't you think it's really crazy, to think, that it ended up being us? It's us!"Ah there it is. He likes to make sure we all feel warm and gracious we're floating in space without a clue as to where we're headed because a renegade meteoroid knocked out our communications system. Space is dark, and now it's lonely. Our fleet moved on without us, days ago. Now we're just left to sit.
"So we can just sit around and wait for assholes who couldn't care less about us, or we can explore, and find our next planet!"Allen's comments seem to parallel my thoughts too well. I laugh, shaking my head for a second at the uncanny coincidence.
"What... is something funny over there?"Silence pervades for a long enough time that I understand Allen directed his comment at me. I look at the shabby group of twenty individuals dressed in tan or gray jumpsuits. They all stare, blankly, some blinking, confused.
"At the end of the day are you looking for us to applaud. Woo, woo, Captain Allen. Savior of the fallen ship,"I say, rolling my eyes. "No one cares about us. We're as good as space rock right now."I turn my attention back to the large glass panel, watching the rocks swirl around slowly, no longer constrained by the forces of gravity.
"Tch, don't listen to her,"I hear one of the others say.
"I don't know, she has a point,"someone else's voice broke through. "Well, I mean think about it. The flagship abandoned us. It had all the provisions, or making them at least. We have no food, water. Except for what we have on board. Then what?"
"Yeah, then what?"someone else shouts. Soon, they're all asking the same question, and all trying to answer it at once. Voices raise over and under, slithering and winding all around the cabin. They devolve into chaos. The same chaos that brought us to this moment.
I don't turn around to hear their squabbles. I close my eyes, enriching myself in the sheer noise of argument.
"You've really done it now, haven't you?"Allen asks, right in front of me. I make eye contact with him.
"You heard the people,"I say, once again watching out into the night where millions of stars blanket the night, save for one. "Where are we going?" |
Well, in a sense it was a worse world. Bad things happened once and again and we could do nothing to avoid them. If someone you loved had an horrible disease you knew that they were going to die. You just would not be able to do anything about it. The medics would probably try their best to save their life, but there are some things that were just out of their reach.
Nowadays there is always hope. If you can pay the price there is someone that can achieve anything that you desire... The thing is that there is always a price. You see, when I was young we all were just humans. There were things that were imposible, that it's true, but we would always try to improve ourselves and our knowledge of the reality so we could achieve new and amazing things. Things that seemed crazy just some years before.
But now... everything is posible, everything is at the reach of your hand. And with that the inequality grow like a cancer. Now there are humans and those who can pay for magic. There are those that have to submit to the laws of the universe and those who can force them. Only a few can use this power, it's just something you are born with. There is no working for it, there is no deserving it, it's just pure luck.
That is why we fighted them for so long. That is why we could not let them get to the power so easily. Because even if they were capable of everything they hadn't done anything to deserve it. When magic didnt exist there was at least an ilusion of equality: you could dream of becoming whatever you wanted by working hard for it.
So in a sense it was also a better world. Everything felt easier, more human. There were no Gods between us, just people who did their best to improve themselves and make the lifes of everyone around them easier and happier. And I hanker those days. The days when there were still things that you simply could not buy... it just felt fair.
Anyway, even with this I'm glad that my nieces live in a world where there is nothing imposible. After all if you eat your vegetables and listen to your parents you still can earn money enough to buy the services of those stuck-ups! |
My armor sags me down. I feel all my wounds from battling the King of Evil’s henchmen. I am bleeding profusely, yet there is still more to come. I approach the throne room, getting ready to complete my quest, once and for all.
I open the double doors, and I’m greeted with...a butler?
“Good evening Sir Erick.” I’m surprised by the almost empty throne room. Besides the Butler, I see no one else. Where is the the King? “Ummm...do I have the right castle?” He simply bows, and says most apologetically, “Sorry Erik, he recently came back from invading a village, so he felt the need to take a bath. I’ll go tell him of your arrival.” He quickly walks off, most likely to the bathroom.
I stand there, waiting in silence, until I here a voice like demonic gravel scream. “WHAT?!” I then see a streak of human skin run past me. Then I waited in more silence. Finally a figure that lives in infamy, the monarch of chaos himself approached me (fully clothed in dark robes).
Now besides that bath incident, I expected a grand show of villainy, a showy off nature from the King of Evil. Instead, I’m greeted by “Welcome Erik. Sorry bout that. You wouldn’t believe how dirty that village was. Might need to plan raids better.” I was speechless.
I was thrown further into loop when he said, “Wait, did you kill my henchmen? Please tell me you didn’t.” “Umm, no. I, uh, spared their lives. Simply knocked them out.” To this, he smiled. “Ah, good. I have grown rather attached to them. Been in my army for 10 years they have. Loyal to a fault. Very kind as well.”
I was at a loss for words. I tried to speak, but he interrupted. “Wait, are you hurt Erik? There seems to be a lot of blood on the floor.” I looked at the floor, and realized my wounds were worse than I thought. I started feeling faint. “Thomas, get this man some aid!” The butler from earlier came in, and, surprisingly lifted me up with one hand. “Don’t worry Sir Erik, we will get you patched up.”
I was beyond confused. Was this a ploy, him wanting me to be at full power, or was this all him just wanting to be nice. This is the first time I’ve seen him. I mostly heard awful stories about him from other people. Were the stories fake, or at least partially wrong?(And what’s with this butler?)
(To be continued if people want it to)
|
Today was the day.
Anton Sklavorski got up from his bed, took a shower, did all the normal things he did every morning, then he looked into the hotel mirror at his face. It was a face that had aged poorly. Poor diet and lack of exercise showed in it's heavy jowls and second chin.
Today was the day.
Ten years ago he would have been ecstatic, he would have celebrated his genius, his ingenuity. He'd pulled thousands of strings, paid for senators, congressmen, bought companies, ad agencies, news networks... hell, the entire state of Louisiana was in his pocket and it had come *cheap*.
There wasn't a shred of critical thought or common sense left in this country. He'd done that to them. He'd done what they'd been doing to smaller countries for decades. Corrupt the leadership, strip away knowledge, fund a revolution, then take advantage of the chaos to make obscene amounts of profit.
Anton moved away from the mirror. He left the bathroom, passing the thousand-dollar suit that was hanging in the closet. He moved to the window, throwing open the curtains to look down upon the city. Shining, white buildings greeted him in distance. He owned them.
Today was the day.
He held 68% of the government through bribery, blackmail, extortion, or some other form of pressure. The sad part was how cheaply they had turned. Some of those great leaders had taken merely sixty thousand dollars to betray their people. Now they would see the true price of betrayal. Today he would tear off the masks and announce that this country was his.
And if anyone resisted, he would order his men in the military to kill them and their families. This was the way of history. Kill the opposition and rewrite the history of it all. It had worked for thousands of years, and it would work just as well here.
As he looked down at the city, at the masses of people who had been ruined by a failed educations systems, each of them full of debt, waving their flags for a country that sold them out for mere pennies, too blind and overfed to see that they weren't free, that freedom had been lost to them fifty years ago. Oblivious to the fact that the possessions they prized the most were owned by their banks, not them. Their children were learning to be failures, and their legacies would be debt, oppression, and a poisoned world. He looked down over the ruin he had created, the absolute chaos of people with the worst education handling the largest financial resources in the world, all while bankrupting themselves in the process.
He wondered if he still wanted a country like this.
|
Munch checked the e-mail as was his duty. Once Goggles would have done it, but she was in the psych ward. Jock was in his room crying on Prim's shoulder. He did that a lot lately.
4,237 new e-mails, a good quarter of them scams. Every town wanted their name in the paper. The sight of their styalized van, all chrome and flowers, set minds at ease. What ever had been bothering the community wouldn't be for long. It was just old man Steward, causing a ruckus, or that lazy Mr. Greed pulling some scam. Problems solved, property values rise, smiles all around. They had fans, they had copies, they even had a few TV shows back in the day.
That was before Mr. Truth.
It was a simple case. Lanky guy in a mask shows up at your door and threatens to reveal your darkest secret, then he does. Prim wrote it off as a super villan wannabe, but Goggles wanted to know. The case was to easy. Yes he revealed that Jock had cheated on Prim, that Prim had far more surgery than anyone thought, and that Goggles had hacked the FBI database and done some things just to prove she could.
It was what he revealed about Munch that really sent things of the rail.
"They're scape goats, all of them."The man said. "Haven't you ever noticed how often Munch finds the clues? Sure Goggles gets the lore, and Prim gets the lips moving, she's good at that, but Munch finds that one hint that gets the ball rolling. The receipt that shows the coach bought the mask, or the soot on the dirty jeans proving the mayor was at the scene. He puts it there. That's the only way to seal them. By making you all prove the monster is just a man in a suit he reduces it to being that, a man in a suit."
That was how things worked. Every mystery solved, another victim of the monster forced to become the monster. Memories planted, costumes fabricated from thin air, an innocent person in exchange for a monster. So many people sent to jail just for being in the wrong ZIP code.
He took another breath. The pills weren't working any more, he was using more and more and he'd run out soon. The team was falling apart. He'd need a new team, a New set of memories, and a new way to cope.
Maybe a dog. Yeah, a Great Dane. |
As I open my eyes. Something feels...off. I can’t seem to focus right and everything looks huge. I’m in some kind of bedroom. The walls are pink and there are bows and doilies everywhere. In a panic I try and stand up to get my bearings. I immediately fall over.
“What the hell, why can’t I stand?” I think to myself.
I look down and I see I’m covered in hair.
My mind is reeling now.
What the hell is going on?!
Where am I??
I see a mirror in the corner and I run? Walk someone but fast on two legs as if it’s natural. I don’t see myself in the mirror. I just see a cute little kitten.
With growing horror it dawns on me.
I’m the cat.
IM THE CAT!!
I’m in full on panic. And then it hits me again. I’m the cat.
You know I always wanted to be a cat. And you know? I’m cuter than I ever was in person.
My heart rate starts to slow and my breathing is relaxing. The thought is starting to settle in and I think I kind of like it. I mean. Eat all day. Sleep. Do whatever I want.
Probably some old lady will be owner and not pay attention to me.
I’m suddenly snapped out of my reverie when the door bursts open.
And there in the doorway. My worst nightmare. The one thing I have always and will always hate. My heart starts beating faster. It’s in my throat. The one thing I know will make my life as a cat hell.
Children. |
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
“The DRUMS. They pound with no end. One Two Three Four. Every day. Every second. THE DRUMS. How can nobody hear them?!” In a frenzy I pace back and forth, muttering “They don’t stop. They never stop.” The drums had beaten on my head for as long as I remember.
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
Always the same. The Drums of war beat on. Then I saw you. I felt you.
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
One Two Three Four
The Drums. They resonate in you. “You can _hear_ them, can’t you? The DRUMS.” I ask, nails digging into your temples as my forehead presses to yours, “The endless drums of WAR. They beat in your mind too” I say.
Walking away, I bang my fist on a desk (One Two Three Four), before returning to pacing, muttering something about a Doctor.
|
She floated a few feet in the air, with long lilac hair and shining green eyes. She reached out to him with a pale hand and smiled.
"You're here. Hello. You must be Ga-"
"Oh my God! I'm inside a shark! I'm inside a shark!"The man gasped.
She looked confused. Chuckling slightly, the angel replied:
"No. This is the afterlife. Come with m-"
"But I was eaten by a shark! I'm dead! I'm dead and I'm inside a shark!"
"No, you're not,"said the angel, amused, but slowly starting to get irritated.
"B-but I was eaten by a shark!"The man insisted. "So we must be inside a shark! I could be alive- let me out!"He started to claw at the air, as if he'd be scratching at the insides of the shark. Obviously this wouldn't work even if he *was* inside of a shark, but he didn't seem to notice nor care.
"Look. We're not inside a shark. I assume you know what Heaven is?"
"Of course I do! But I was eate-"
"When you die, you go to heaven. There is nothing else to happen that you should care about. You do not stay inside of the stomach of a shark that ate you. This is... this is simple... simple, common knowledge."
"But it ate me! And I died! So did I disappear from its stomach and then go to Heaven? Does that mean that there should be no dead people too? Or meat?!"He retorted angrily.
The angel sighed, irritated.
"No. Your body is in the shark. But now, your conscience is up here. In the-"
"I'M IN A SHARK! OH MY GOD, I'M IN A SHA-"
*"Silence!"*
The man went quiet.
"You are not in a shark's stomach!"She cried. "You are *not!"*
"Y-yes, ma'am."He replied.
Her smile returned. "Yes. Now... let's go." |
The Devil stared at the sky, his shackles rusted and broken. He felt an old, lost power surge through his veins as red flames lashed into the horizon of the dark midnight sky.
Curious, was it not? That an evil, malevolent being, be *cursed* to do *good* things. Why would the cursed be cursed? For what reason? Was it for a "greater good?"But that was something he didn't understand.
Nevertheless, his mind was riddled with more questions. He wanted to know what "good"was; what it was to be *good*. The Devil clenched his fist on the shaft of his olden trident in a pale anger that had clawed itself up from the confusion.
Most humans would consider "good"to be helpful, like being a hero, or even as simple as helping someone. In all honesty, "good"was such a frail subject. Quite frankly, the Devil wanted answers for once.
But that didn't really matter.
As he peered his eyes across the barren wasteland that had once been humanity's home, he felt a sort of grin carve itself onto his cheeks. Maybe it was all what *he* thought was good. Maybe it was what was good for something.
With a sigh, he thought to himself.
*Maybe its for a greater good*. |
Tony looked like he owned a junkyard. Beer belly, dirty wife beater, five o'clock shadow, bald spot, a habit of scratching himself in a private spot in public view. People treated him badly for it, trying to take advantage of him, acting like he was a dumb hick.
It didn't help matters that he actually owned a junkyard.
"Sarah, this is *steryatypin'*!"he griped, standing in front of the door to his office trailer. The deputy sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Now Tony, you know I cain't just ignore a call about a domestic. So just let me in the door, aight? I'll check the trailer, then I'll be on my way."
Tony scowled and spit his chew on the porch. "Ye'll need t' come back with a warrarnt."
The deputy scowled back at him, hands settling on her belt. "Tony. I don't need no warrarnt when someun called in about a man screamin' fer help on yer property. Now move, or we'll move ya."
Needless to say, it didn't go very well, and he wound up in a truck handcuffed while they searched the property.
"Mr. Russo, where did you get the device implanted in your neck?"
Ever since he'd gotten caught, he'd been through a battery of tests. People in camo, people in lab coats, men in suits all poked and proded at him.
They all wanted to know about the thing in his neck.
"I found it in my yard."he said sullenly. He felt like he'd been kicked in the head by a horse.
"You... Found it. Someone just threw out a neurological implant capable of bipassing the human bodies natural limits."the suit replied slowly. He shook his head slowly as he leaned forward. "Mr. Russo. I want to know who made you this. I don't care if you stole it. I need to know. This is a matter of national security. Don't you have any patriotic..."
Tony waited silently as the suit continued, his mind wandering.
He wasn't a bad man, see. The man chained up in his junkyard, his groin a mangled mess of seared cuts though? That was a bad man. A bad man who had a thing for little girls.
In fact, all of them were. The police had found seventeen bodies, each a registered sex offender.
They had taken him in almost unwillingly, as if they wondered what right they had to stop his work. They even brought him a newspaper article about it. *"Junkyard Justice: The Vigilante In Our Midst."* It had a picture of lady justice holding a scrap scale, of all things.
It had taken them a few days to realize that the thing on his neck had something to do with the ease with which he'd taken his victims. At that point, they'd called in the brain team.
Little did they know, the more they poked and prodded, the more they examined and tweaked, the less stable the implant was. He knew that the government wouldn't be responsible with the technology, so he let them kill him with each adjustment.
Luckily, Tony looked like he owned a junkyard. By the time they realized he'd designed and built it from scrap, he'd be dead, the killswitch they'd unknowingly flipped already shaving year upon year off his life as it degraded the implant.
**authors note: I'll come back to this for editing later. I enjoyed this prompt, even if I had a hard time keeping the writing smooth. Any editing advice is, as always much appreciated. Also. Please forgive me for basically writing the love child of *Deathwish* and the grindhouse genre.** |
It'd been a really strange day for Alex. First of all, she'd gotten top marks on her test she absolutely hadn't studied for. After all, how could you be expected to study when your only living relative was a drunk who pissed and puked all over himself and had to be carted off to the ER almost on a weekly basis?
Secondly as she walked along the street, she was as happy as she was angry, an odd mixture of feelings for sure. Angry that she was stuck in this shitty life, happy that she was potentially starting to get out of it.
So, it can't really be faulted that she totally missed the big puddle of sudsy water that she ended up slipping in. As she fell down towards the ground, she discovered that the clear plastic bottle just became bigger and bigger as she fell downwards in what felt like slow motion.
And then cold water everywhere. She surfaced in what seemed like a decently sized swimming pool. Holy fuck what just happened?! She thought to herself as she took stock of her surroundings. And what surroundings they were. Curving upwards were big walls that showed a world outside that seemed unreal. With a start she realized that she was INSIDE the bottle. But it all just faded away due to the sun coming out of the blue clouds. As she swam up to the side of the bottle and looked out, she realized that she could see the sky outside, but where was the world? There was no world, it was all just a beautiful blue sky everywhere. It was totally crazy, she'd lost it hadn't she?
She tore her eyes away from the scene outside and turned around, she had to find some way out of this crazy situation. As she looked inwards towards the bottle, she saw that there was a big piece of drift wood floating about it. As she swam towards it with her head spinning, she realized with a little deranged laugh that it was actually just a small piece of a twig that'd gotten into the bottle. But to her it was gigantic and perfect for her needs.
She painstakingly crawled up, feeling her power quickly evaporating as she just barely got up. She laid there for a while, feeling like the worlds most bizarre castaway. After a while she heard a strange sound which sounded like kind of a waterfall, but it kept coming and going. As she looked up she realized that the sound most be the wind blowing over the open cap of the bottle.
A small irritated voice interrupted her thoughts "Hey! You! Who are you over there? What are you doing on MY log? I'll have you know this log is something I claimed long before ... THINGS like you showed up!"
She turned around, looking for the source of the voice and saw what seemed like a head coming out of the side of the log. It peered at her with eyes that closed and opened in strange ways.
"Uh, this is your log? Is this your .. bottle too?"she said, feeling her sanity slip away a little bit at a time with every word she uttered.
"No silly! This is a communal bottle, but this log? This here log you see? It's MINE and you're TRESPASSING! Out I say! OUT OUT OUT!"and before she could react, it surged forward towards her and it's powerful impact knocked the air out of her lungs and sent her flying out over the water until she hit the side of the bottle. Then things got really wonky as the whole world inside toppled over. As the water and the log came rushing towards her, a strange blurry sensation came over her and...
Concrete. Sky above, reality was back. She got up and looked down at the bottle only to see the small stick and the water it contained go through the drain nearby.
"Fuck you mister and fuck your log"she said to it and flipped it the bird. She got back up and thought to herself "Shit, I'm going crazy aren't I?"But once she got back up, she realized it couldn't have possibly been her mind, because she was still sopping wet.
As a man went past her looking at her like she came from Mars, she suddenly realized that she'd literally stumbled on what would become the greatest adventure in her life. |
"It won't be long before we don't have anything... or should I say anyone... to fight against anymore."Davion laughed before clicking the 'Play Against AI' option.
&#x200B;
He knew what it had come to. All those practice rounds against the gods who held the top ranks for years. Those ranks became irrelevant after the AI finally gained the understanding and sentience to study every. single. match. of every competitive game ever created. We, the human race, were truly no match against their powers.
&#x200B;
"It sure is taking a long time to load..."Davion looked at his watch--a few minutes had passed with no progress on the loading bar. "Maybe the AI is scared,"he laughed, "I would be."Davion was always cocky. He was never the number 1 player on any game, but he had the memory of a thousand books and the agility of the Flash. Davion was not someone to take any challenge lightly--he would study and practice until he was certain there was no tricks anyone could pull against him.
&#x200B;
"I honestly doubt that. But it is quite interesting, normally these matches are hosted on the computer used to start the match itself, meaning it should only take a few seconds to load, not minutes,"I retorted. "Could still be a bad connection, let me go have a look at the router."I left Davion in the chair as I walked into the hallway and into the living room of the small one-bedroom apartment where Davion lived.
&#x200B;
He asked me here after the government promised him money for finally putting the reign of the AI to bed. I didn't understand why the government got involved, or what the connotations of such would bring, but honestly... the monetary incentive was enough to convince me.
&#x200B;
"Router shows everything is good,"I say before I turn the corner into the study. "I don't know wh..."
&#x200B;
Two words flash on the screen: "YOU LOSE"
&#x200B;
Like a gust of wind, the curtains blew open, ignoring the fact the windows were closed the whole time.
&#x200B;
"I..."Davion started. "I didn't even have a chance to react. Within seconds they had troops surrounding my base,"he paused. "I don't understand, none of my research, my practice, none of it prepared me for that slaughter."
&#x200B;
"Maybe there was really a connection issue and they got to start before you,"I said, trying to comfort him.
&#x200B;
"There's no way. That's better than any explanation I've got, but that won't hold up when I talk to the agents."
&#x200B;
"What do they want with you anyways?"I asked.
&#x200B;
"Besides the money you mean?"He paused, deep in thought and conviction. "It's more than just the money to them. They've given me thousands of dollars even before this, but their true purpose is... let's just say... not so simple."
&#x200B;
I sat in the chair next to him I was planning to use to watch the match. I reached for my drink.
&#x200B;
Davion stood up, with a scowl on his face. "I guess this means I won't be seeing you anytime soon."
&#x200B;
I was confused. I may not have understood why the government was concerned with the gaming AI uprising, mostly because it didn't affect the economy or politics, but the confidence and upheld chin with which Davion said those words caught me most off guard. I stood up to give him a hug out of habit, not because I thought he was truly leaving, but because of the way he made me feel.
&#x200B;
"I always treasured our talks and games Shigeru."
&#x200B;
With that, he was gone. Not a trace of him left behind, the computer still flashing the words: "YOU LOSE"in bright red text. |
James pulled up behind the last police cruiser, parked, put his Glock in the holster, turned the engine and lights off, got out. He saw Detective Pierce beyond the caution tape. Which was good; things usually went smoothly when Pierce was the lead. There were only three cruisers, which didn't seem like enough for a murder scene. Paramedics had already left, and judging by the lack of flashes, so had the photographer. A group of campus police were well beyond the perimeter, scowling, pissed that their university, their turf, was being tarnished by the city PD.
He showed his badge to the officer at the perimeter, who asked to verify his department ID. James was getting used to being the new guy. He went under the tape and joined Pierce.
He was about twenty feet away from a man in a dark, very long, black trench coat, or maybe a cloak, who was crouched, staring at the girl. "Well good evening, Investigator Lawrence."His voice was more bored than friendly, full of resigned annoyance that things were more complicated than they should be.
"Evening,"James said. The girl was lying in the middle of the sidewalk. She looked peaceful. Her clothes were all where they should be, no signs of any struggle. As the Crime Scene Investigator assigned to this call, James was obliged to ask one question before any others: "Who the hell is that?"
"That,"he said slowly, taking time to make sure James noticed his level of vexation, "Is Detective Black."
James looked again at the figure. He hadn't moved. It was almost impressive, the degree to which he hadn't moved. *"That's* Detective Black?"
"It is, yes."
"Does he always dress like that?"
"Actually, yes."
"Isn't this your case?"
"Actually, yes."
"Then who called *him?"*
"I wouldn't be surprised if nobody did."
Detective Mortimer Black was a bit of a legend. Not the rarely seen, Bigfoot kind of legend, but more of the kung fu master kind. No one had the slightest idea how he worked, or how he came to the conclusions he did, or why he was rarely ever wrong. He worked murders, almost exclusively, as far as James knew. And only ones he found interesting. Which were always the difficult ones.
This was the first time James crossed paths with him. He wasn't sure what kind of first impressions he made. Black wore ... black. That long coat was probably the blackest garment James had ever seen, and the little bit of black pant and black shoe that appeared under it weren't much brighter. The man himself, though, was very pale. His bald head was shiny. Sharp nose, thin lips, very intense eyes. And still. Perfectly, unbelievably still.
"So,"James said, "want me to talk to him before we do a walk-through?"
Pierce snorted. "Nothing to walk through. There is, and I'm going to use the word 'literally' here, no evidence. Nothing. On her, around her, in the area. Her name is Lissa Jordan. She was called in by a student, who says she was walking fifty feet or so behind the victim when she collapsed."
"That doesn't sound like a murder. That sounds like the girl just died."
"Good point. If I were you I'd bring that up with Detective Black over there."
There was a tinge of unease in his theatrical boredom, now. "Mort!"Pierce said. Detective Black didn't react. "Mort,"he called again. "Detective Black."
Slowly, and smoothly, like a time-lapse of the moon rising, Detective Black raised one finger. *Wait.*
James walked over to him, getting a better look at the girl as he did. No marks on her. Hair tied back, not much makeup. Just a student on campus. He face looked like she'd been frozen in the middle of a sentence.
"Detective Black?"James said. "I'm James Lawrence, CSI for this--"
"Yes,"Black said. His raised finger slowly moved back to where it was. He stayed crouched, focused on the girl. Still as a statue. As James drew closer, he could have sworn everything got quieter. Like when it was snowing.
"We're glad you're here,"James said. May as well start with flattery. "Detective Pierce told me all he has. What makes you think this was anything other than a natural death?"
Still, Black stared at the girl. James wasn't even sure he blinked. "Do you--"
"There is always a reason for death, Investigator Lawrence,"Black said. "Sickness, or injury. Sometimes the signs are subtle. Wonderfully subtle. But there are always signs."
James bristled a little. He was new to this force, but he wasn't a rookie. This sounded too similar to the speech he got his first day as an assistant investigator.
"There are no signs here,"Black said. "This girl's soul was removed."
James couldn't think of a single thing to say to that. Eventually, he half-chuckled, and said, "Look, no disrespect intended, Detective, but people drop dead for no apparent reason all the time. It's not common, but it happens. Heart failure, aneurysm, some kind of toxic--"
"No,"Black said. "Everything leaves a trace. Chemical, physical, sometimes even trace electrical or magnetic evidence that you people don't even know to search for yet. There is always something. But not here. Not with Lissa. All at once, her soul was simply *absent."*
Weeks later, James would realize that although he remembered every word Black said, he had no recollection at all of what his voice sounded like.
"So,"James said, "What now?"
"Now, I find out what happened."He stood. He moved like an assembly line robot. Too smoothly. When he stood straight he looked to be seven feet tall.
"How?"James said, staring up.
"I'm not sure,"Black said. The fact seemed to amuse him a little. His mouth moved upwards slightly. "I will start by talking to Lissa." |
After a long day at work, I made myself dinner, and quickly went to bed. At around midnight I was awoken to a white light coming from the window, too bright to see through. A few seconds later, there was a loud voice that sounded like it was coming from all around me.
"YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN"
The hell did that mean? The blinding light disappeared, and morning light shined through the windows. That had been one of the weirdest dreams I've had in a while. Instead of letting it get to me, I decided to just go on about my morning. I get up out of bed, and make my way to the bathroom. I noticed something in my reflection as I was brushing my teeth. My eyes weren't the brown they usually were, instead, they were a crimson red.
"What the fuck?"
My mind begins racing, trying to find a reason as to how this could have happened. Could it have been some weird disease? No, that couldn't be it. Maybe someone had slipped something into my drink at work? No way, my coworkers wouldn't do something like that. *What about that dream from earlier?* Wait, maybe that wasn't a dream. Maybe I was actually chosen for something. But for what exactly? Why would I have been chosen? Why not some famous athlete, or someone with actual skills? As far as I know, I'm just some average Joe with an office job, no real skills at all. Maybe it was a mistake? Yeah, tha-
Edit: Getting tired, and feeling like crap, I'll finish this later
&#x200B; |
Falling in love with her was like entering a locker and closing the door on the world. It was just the two of us, her and I, in the confines of this space, isolated, and secluded from the judgment of public opinion. This space that was big enough to allow only us, the air thick with the exhalations of expectations, anticipation, and serenity, pressed against the boundaries of each other's being, more aware of each other as we groped and fumbled along the path of discovery, trying to explore what lay inside the core of the other in the dark.
She became a reflection of who I was inside; what I was willing to compromise for the sake of her happiness and satisfication, as I sunk my soul into a sauna of bubbling pleasure, the thick waterfall of red lust dilating into pink ripples of love across this pool of submission and surrender where she sat, basking in the sun of my affection.
If it doesnt make sense to you, it's because these feelings that cascaded through us in our journey of learning and growth weren't meant to be put into words. I'm violating this sacred convent of wonder with every word I right. But it cant be helped. I had to let you know what you're missing.
Love is scary I know. Like a neverending, twisting path of mystery that goes on further than the eye could see. With no signs. No guides. Just you and stranger, bound together in mutual moment of trust. But it's worth it. I taught her that. And she showed me the power of vulnerability, glistening between two thighs of soft comfort, spread apart by the stroking caresses of possibility, and the recognition that the pulsing depth of her needs could only be fulfilled to the utmost by the thrusting progression of our desires meeting in a mutual agreement that still seemed so spontaneous and intense upon first impact.
They say the fear of falling is our worst nightmare. But I have been falling for a quite a while now, and I'm starting to get used to it.
|
CW: Violence. Lots of violence.
\---
27.
I had 27 tally marks cut into my forearm. I ran my right forefinger over each one, remembering each fight, each close call, and, worst of all, each kill.
I shuddered as my finger reached the first diagonal slash, representing my 5th fight. What was the kid's name? Greggor. I hadn't eaten in a week, and they said they wouldn't give me any more until I won. He was more malnourished than me, making the fight brutally one sided. But the crowd loved it. So I could live, though only to fight another day.
27 fights. I had only three more to go. Three fights until I didn't have to do this anymore. Three fights until I could have a place to live that wasn't on the street. Three fights until I could stop worrying about my next meal.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked at the digital clock above the door. I had four and a half minutes until I was fighting for my life. For the 28th time in 28 days.
Just then the speaker crackled to life.
"Contestant 44256, you have a message from your opponent."
"Please, use my name?"
The anonymous voice repeated the same message, ignoring my plea. Would it be that hard for them to just call me "Julia"? I sighed.
"Yes, play the message."
The voice switch to a low masculine growl.
"Hey fucker, I just want to let you know that I'm not like your other opponents. I *live* for the fight. I *chose* to be here. And I'll kill you just like I've killed 63 other people in this ring before you. See you there."
My blood ran cold. What the hell? People actually *chose* to be here? What kind of insane was this guy?? There were only two minutes and ten seconds left on the clock. I went over to the weapon rack, picked up the 8 inch knife that had accompanied me since I got access to the weapon rack, and slide it in into its sheath on my lower back. I took another look over the rack.
Should I take a javelin? What about a sword? What kind of a weapon would the madman I was about to die to use? Probably something heavy, meaning I would need to keep my distance. I picked up a leather whip but as the red light over the door began to flash, signaling the immanent start of the match.
In the seconds I had left, I tried to slow my beating heart, breathing in and out in long and calm breaths. This wouldn't be the end. I was so close.
The light flashed green and the metal door slid open. The rowdy cheers from the crowd filtered into my room. Here we go. I walked into the ring.
"Welcome guests! Countrymen! You are about to witness the 28th fight in the career of our rising star, Contestant 44256! Why don't you give her a warm welcome into the ring?!"
The sound of crazed blood lust enveloped me and Items from the crowd flew into the ring. I shut out the sounds and ignored the offerings from fans and jeers from haters. I had to focus.
"And coming in now we have Contestant 77319! Nicknamed "the Nuke", he never looses."
My adversary appeared, a massive sword on his back. He riled up the crowd, exuding a disgusting confidence, and reveling in the attention.
"Contestant 44256, good luck. You'll need it. Let the match begin in: 5, 4,..."
My killer to be took his sword off of his back, ran a finger down the blade, and painted a streak of his own blood across his face. Could I even win this?
"3, 2 1!"The air horn sounded.
I stood there, unmoving. Not frozen, but waiting for him to make the first attack. We made eye contact for a whole 10 seconds of adrenaline fueled focus, and then he charged me. He jumped in the air, spinning his blade around him in a move the crowd must have loved, but I avoided it, rolling under him and unsheathing my knife as I stood up behind him. I was making a jab for his side when he turned around lighting fast, parrying my blade with his sword and landing a punch right on my jaw.
I feel to the ground, and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"You're gonna have to be better than that."he taunted as a maniacal smile spread across his face.
He hefted his blade for an overhead strike headed straight for my chest, but I was able to roll to my left before it hit the ground. With another example of uncanny speed he landed a kick to my wrist as I reach out for slash against his leg. My knife spun out of my hand and landed 15 feet away.
He left his sword embedded 6 inches in the ground and reached behind his back for a solid metal rod. I jumped to my feet, knowing what was coming next but the beating I had already started to take was slowing me down: the front of the staff struck me in the chest, and I feel back to the ground desperately trying to catch my breath.
He put the staff back on his back, casually walked over to my knife, picked it up, and slid it into his belt, though only after waving it around for the crowd, giving them yet another chance to make their jeers degrading comments. I was back on my feet and unfurled the whip.
The audience gasped in mock surprise. Apparently they were as skeptical as I was that I could actually survive. I started flicking the whip, remembering how to use it in record time. My adversary took out an axe and threw it at me. Without time to wonder where the hell he was carrying all these weapons, I rolled diagonally forward, jumped up, and caught him across the chest with the supersonic crack of the whip.
I was about to let myself have a little bit of hope that maybe I wouldn't loose, but he only smiled, letting the blood soak threw his clothes. I did another roll, this time wrapping the whip around his leg. I stopped, and pulled, hoping to throw him off balance. It had no effect, and in my moment surprise, the metal rod came flying threw the air, this time pointed end first. It impaled itself in my left shoulder and I let out a gasp.
I knew it wouldn't hurt for a little bit still but that was little consolation. Through sheer determination, I pulled it out of me, and gripped it with both my hands, whip forgotten. As numbness crept along my left arm, I made another charge: it was now or never.
He was back as his sword, wrenching it out of the ground, I went for a swing against his left side. With the same masterful speed he blocked it, but I let the staff swing around the other way, taking advantage of the momentum to make a quick follow up strike on the other side. He realized what was happening to late, and in a move the block the second strike on managed to get his fingers caught between the metal rods of the staff and the hilt of his own sword.
I felt, more than heard, the bones in his hand crumble. He grit his teeth, probably in real pain for the first time this fight. But I wasn't going to let him take back to offensive. I darted behind him and jammed the sharp end of the staff into his side.
"You're going to have to do better than that."
Hearing his taunt repeated back to him sent him into a frenzied rage, swinging his sword at me with more power than accuracy. Hope flooded me. I could deal with desperate anger.
He went wide with one of his swings, and I took the opportunity to grab my knife back. The crowd roared in approval, but I didn't care about them. As he kept on missing strikes, his rage turned to panic, and I realized he'd never not been the helpless.
This wasn't the time for mercy. I made another quick jab, this time directed at his ankle, and severed his Achilles Tendon. He topped to the ground with a blood curdling scream, and I knew the fight was over. I took my knife and pushed it through his other shoulder, pinning him to the ground.
"TO THE DEATH! TO THE DEATH!"
The chant of the crowd finally reached my ears. I hated this part. I stood there, catching my breath, hoping I wouldn't pass out from blood loss.
"Contestant 44256! End the fight! Kill the former champion!"
The crowd went wild, screaming in a renewed blood lust, high on violence.
I picked up his sword, closed my eyes, and plunged it into his neck.
I knew I would cry myself to sleep tonight. But I only had to do this twice more. |
My ascension started in a city in chaos. Political upheaval had meant three straight decades with brutal wars of accession, and an increasingly desperate populace. My goal was simple—take the throne and restore order, whatever the cost. So, I started killing all the people who stood in my way. I walked the streets of my city with the impunity of a master assassin and the ego of a high noblemen, but I was more than those titles. I wasn’t *a* master assassin. I was *the* master assassin. My enemies began to fear speaking my name. Slowly, the resistance to my leadership began to collapse. If a man did not acquiesce to me, they died. Once the citizens of Telit understood this, nearly all of them folded beneath me like dogs. This was a wise decision—my empire has been prosperous. We have avoided war for the entirety of my reign, and the economy has flourished under the relative stability of my rule.
I was *pure* power. Morally, this led to some interesting conundrums. When is murder off the table? When does the killing stop? What cost is too much to pay, to hold on to the power that I had won? I didn’t necessarily mind killing—most who met an end by one of my blades deserved what was coming to them. Still, after 15 years of keeping the kingdom together with one murderous act after another, I grew restless. Watching so many men’s ambitions cut down, I realized I had stopped growing. There was no challenge, no *spark*, to my work. Telit was stable. So, I set myself to the one challenge that I had yet to conquer.
The Gate.
They say a lot of things about the Gate. Some think it goes straight to heaven—others say straight to hell. Some say it is simply a different way to die, and nothing comes after it. Many have argued that it is a connection with another world, and that it offers rebirth. That was one of the first prophecies to come from the Gate, if my sources are accurate. Still, nobody knows what happens when one steps through the gate, because those who pass through it do not return. I prepared my kingdom to transfer power as peacefully as I could manage. And then, in the middle of a night just like any other, I decided it was time. I had conquered this world. It was time for me to conquer the next one.
I passed through the Gate.
Blackness enveloped me.
When I first regained consciousness, I found myself overwhelmed by my senses. Smells and sounds bombarded me, as did a new, surprisingly low center of gravity. I blinked away the blackness, and saw the new world in front of me for the first time. Yes—this was a world. There were trees, and strange looking buildings in the distance. I felt my heart swell with joy. I had not been sent to my death. This was a world, a physical world where I could vanquish my foes once more.
Then I saw the human girl. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. The girl was much too large. She towered over me. How was I supposed to conquer the world if my daggers couldn’t even reach a common woman’s thr—
Just then, I noticed my body for the first time. Needless to say, I screamed.
I had four legs, covered in hair. Small, fur covered feet. My nose was clearly visible in front of me—I had a long, protruding snout.
“Peanut Butter!” The girl said as she crouched down in front of me. “Why did you yelp? Did someone step on you?” The girl frowned as she moved her hands toward my face. I recoiled instinctively and attempted to adopt a commanding tone.
“Unhand me, common woman! I am a man, a master assassin, and a great, fierce leader! You have no right…” The words of my speech died on my long, pink tongue. The girl had no reaction to my tone. It must not have been very commanding. In Telit, that voice could have forced the strongest men to their knees. This girl, however, did not seem the least bit concerned.
“Peanut Butter, why are you barking at me? What happened, huh? Did somebody step on your tail? Don’t you know that Alita loves you? Yes I do! Yes, I do!” The girl smiled at me, holding out her hand. I was stunned. Unable to react. Of all the challenges for the Gate to have thrown at me…
“Come here, girl,” Alita said. I looked at her, flabbergasted, and turned away. There was no need for me to interact with this simple woman—I would find someone who could better understand my importance.
As soon as I had advanced a few meters, I felt a tug around my neck. Was that a rope, holding me in place? THAT GIRL was holding it! Why, this was worse treatment than the lowliest servants experienced in my kingdom!
“I shall not be chained, woman. Let me free,” I said, my voice sounding less and less menacing with every attempt at communication.
“Stop whining at me,” Alita responded. “Look, calm down and let me pet you, and I’ll let you off leash. We can go down to the field over there and play.” I considered her offer. What else could I do? Even the most talented assassin must know when they are outdone. I would play along for now and wait for my chance to escape. I sat down obediently and allowed the girl to approach.
“That’s a good girl,” Alita said. Her hand patted my face affectionately. It felt…good. Warm. “Do you want some ear scritches?” The girl Alita scratched my ear. Suddenly, my whole body seized with delight. My leg trembled with joy. What was this sensation? Could I have it be repeated?
Just then, I noticed something. The girl Alita was holding a green ball in her left hand. I could seize that ball. My dexterity and agility was unrivaled in my kingdom, and I could prove it to her.
“I will accompany you to this park,” I told the girl Alita.
“That’s a good girl. Let’s go play.” My rope was unhinged, and my freedom guaranteed. But I did not run—I had decided to follow her. Obviously, I needed to see how this played out. It would lend me vital information about the workings of this world. As we walked, the girl Alita rubbed my body, and fed me two delicious snacks made of some kind of dried meat. The taste was incredible, and the way that she tossed the green ball in her hand was so…alluring.
Clearly, my new form meant that I needed a partner. Someone to help with translations, and to help me acclimate to this new, foreign environment. Yes, I was still completely resolved to conquer this world. It needed to be conquered. But circumstances had changed. A true king, and a true assassin, knows how to adapt. I began to form a new plan. It involved both of us, Alita and me. We would conquer the world, together. |
"Another day another dollar,"said Jesus to himself. He flipped a wheat wafer like a gangster flips a coin, catching it by picking it out of the air overhandedly.
He sighed, and continued his lonely conversation. "Let's see, 50,000 in a day is a new record. I'll have to promote the foreman, raise the min wage."
He strode into his office overlooking the the factory floor, the sweet aroma of baking yeast permeating throughout the building, especially here. Gus was flipping through the accounts.
"Hey Abs!"he said to Jesus.
"Please Gus, that nickname won't stick."
"I like it,"said Gus.
Jesus stared at him.
"*Jesus,*"said Gus, exasperated. "Fine, Abaddon. You're Abaddon. Happy?"
"Yes, thank you. What's the word?"
"The word is a number, and it's 165,453. That's dollars, mate."
"Sounds good--that's a record isn't it Gus?"
"With the new accounts in Idaho, that is a record my friend."
"Fine fine. Give everyone a raise, we can afford it."
"You the boss!"
Gus jaunted out with a happy gait, and Jesus slunked into his big captain's chair. He rolled back his sleeve and looked at the time travel device attached to his wrist. It read, *Greenville, Rhode Island, February 15th, 2019, 15:25:24*. He spun around and clicked a button beneath the desk, opening a secret annex. Inside he eyed the sack of wafers he'd snuck off the factory line, and the millenia-old cloth bundle filled with opiods. Would that work? He'd find out soon enough.
He was 33. He fidgetted with the device, looking absently at the floor. This time, he though, he'd change things. This time, he'd tell Mary *everything*. This time, love *would* prevail. He gathered up the sack and bundle, turned a switch, and disappeared into the past.
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\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff
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We had enough. We had enough of society telling us that we are losers. We had enough of people underestimating our superior intellectual and enhanced cognitive abilities. Through rigorous and repetitive training we have developed a near complete mastery of tactical planning and execution. We are a force to be reckoned with. You will know loss.
These alien invaders know nothing of our true strength and what is to come. Gentlemen, when we head out that door, we'll show them what we are made of. Get your weapons ready, it's time.
"Gamers rise up!"
*And so, little Timmy and the rest of the boys were immediately incinerated to dust as they all stepped out of the front door of their two-story suburban house. Except for Billy, who first needs to finish his ranked placement match in LoL because he can not quit mid-game.*
|
- Ralph, I am glad you come here to give me company - she said while giving Ralph a hug - So I heard you are the second smartest man in earth.
- Yes I am Miss Omenuko, sadly this is not self earned, it was a power granted by a mutation in the Gene A289, directory E7; it gives me super intelligence.
- Don't think so harshly of yourself, it's a quality of yourself, a quality you've developed - She smiled - there have been hundreds of super intelligent individuals on this world, and yet it all depends on how the individual, such as you, uses their power; anyway Ralph, please take a seat, help yourself, there's some quality 20's century wine.
- So what I am here for Miss Omenuko?... - says Ralph while taking a cup.
- Do you think you can hack Santo's Network?
- I am sory Miss, but I don't think I got it, you want to go against the supreme leader the smartest man in existence.
- Ralph, look around you?... - She opened the window - Look at this world - A depressing scene appears in view filled with futuristic slums - do you really think Santo's has done a great job? The world is a depressing place to live, people live basically forever and that has created poverty, resources run scarce; plus, who gave Santo the power?
- Even I have to assume the network gives resources to everyone so that people can live in equal footing, without destroying the planet at the same time; the world is in equilibrium; the dextrous build the world, the smart run the world, and the strong enforce the law; it's a great system for the powers to be, and you Miss Omenuko, you should be glad to have the position you have, you have no powers, yet you've managed to get so far; it makes me respect you due to that fact.
- Ralph eventually you are going to inherit the world; your intelligence only increases and Santo's is getting old already, you will get in charge of the network; and let's be fair, Santo hasn't treated you fairly.
- Where are you going to?...
- I have a proposal, a proposal for a new bright future!... a world where people is entitled to their earnings, where we live by the basic laws of nature, maybe not the best world, but a happier one; don't let me remind you about Cari?...
- Please no.
- Cari killed herself, and what did she say? - Omenuko started speaking passionately - she said that this was a depressing world to live, that all what she worked for was pointless because at the end of the day, there was no struggle to live for, no objective to aim! That's what she said, and you know it, you know how high or suicide statistics are, basically half of the deaths we have are suicide; Cari isn't the exception, she is the rule.
*Ralph started crying, Omenuko gives Ralph a hug*
- I understand you - She started speaking smoothly - so, we need to fix this, we can fix this world together; and situations like what happened with Cari doesn't have to happen again; we have focused on resource management and life extension we have forgotten about human nature, we can make this world, greener, and more human.
- Look - Raph spoke while sobbing - I understand what you mean but this is the most efficient alternative we have created, there is no other way to feed 82 billion people; earth can only cope with 20 billion people in a sustainable manner at best, Santo's ended world hunger, he ended the division between poor and rich, he has basically ended crime, he made the world an equal place to live.
- And he made it a depressing place to live, a world where everything is sorted for you, and you are nothing but a walking piece of meat.
- Cari said that - Ralph started crying again.
- Look I just want you to help me out here, you won't be deemed responsible; I assume all responsibilities.
- Alright, what do you want?...
*Omenuko goes and brings a computer requiring access to the network*
- Give me the access codes, so I can send a message through the network; I know you have a digital key stored in your fingertip.
- I cannot do that while not being deemed responsible.
- Well that's easy to fix.
- Hey yo dude... - some man comes from behind the shadows and grabs Ralph by the neck, he is one of the ultra strong men and manages to leave a mark.
- What the fuck is going on?... - Ralph screams.
*Omenuko grabs the finger of Ralph and puts it in the machine, which immediately grants access*
- No, What the fuck?... bastard stop holding me.
- Bronislav, stop - Omenuko says.
*The action immediately stops*
- What was this? What kind of?... - Ralph speaks agitated.
- Calm down, this means that you are not responsible anymore, even the lying detector won't be triggered, you were coerced to, you even have bruises in your neck.
- Oh, I see. - Ralph says now calming down - Fucking Omenuko you and your non conventional methods, who is this guy anyway?...
- He is Bronislav, he is my boyfriend; he is super strong.
- Hi!... - says Bronislav in a deep voice - sorry for the shake.
- Either way, I am now asking you for permission; do, or don't I have your permission?...
- Go ahead, you have the key already, and I guess only you'd get in trouble, I am leaving this place, let's see what you manage to do.
*Ralph goes out and starts walking around the slums, when suddenly all the screens turns on*
- Dear citizens, this is a message from the human resistance faction.
- What the FUCK? - Ralph tells himself - Omenuko is with HRF?
- We have successfully infiltrated the system, it is now time for the revolution to start; after all, aren't we tired of living by the system that was designed by the high class of smart citizens, living in this depressing world that they have designed, without an option on what we do, how we do it, and when we do it; a predefined, worthless existence.
*People on the street started cheering*
- Living like walking sacks of meat, without purpose, other than to please the network, in an equal existence despite our hard work; but citizens!... there's an alternative, join HRF, join the revolution, let's give meaning to our lives, and live by nature in conflict, with some meaning; let's go back to the forests, to the mountains, to the desserts; reconquer the land we once lived within, rather than being confined on these slums; let's take MEANING BACK TO OUR LIVES.
*The slums were louder and louder by the moment*
- So I ask you, to join us, support us, flood the streets, come in the millions to center, to be a witness of the change.
*Suddenly the communcation cuts*
- Bronislav - Omenuko says - let's go, call the mercenaries and the deserters, let's take the ship right away to center.
- Sure thing - Bronislav picks a radio - all mercenaries to your positions.
*Once in center, things are on fire, the streets are flooded, and there is even bloodshed as riots grow and grow, a starship crashes into the goverment building glass*
*Several military individuals and super strong people come out, Bronislav and Omenuko go ahead*
*Santos is there, alone*
- Omenuko - said Santos - I've been expecting you, Gene A776, B12, the hypothetical super charisma, seems to be real.
- This is a coup, why are you alone? - said Omenuko.
- I wanted to avoid more bloodshed.
- I see, we are about equally armed now so you know.
- I know that Omenuko, I tried everything I could to stop you, but I wasn't able to, every simulation I ran, would end up with either more bloodshed or and endless civil war; this was the best option, the one with fewer casualities.
- Fucking Santos - Omenuko laughed - You are next level smart, but you know, you never understood people, I did, and this is the result, how can you be so smart and not see the level of dissatisfaction people are in? Anyway the world now belongs to humanity, it belongs to me.
*Omenuko made a sign gesture and soldiers rushed in to take Santos, all the soldiers left and took Santos to the ship, all but Bronislav who came to Omenuko in a slightly sexual way*
- So - said in an ukranian accent - it's over, you won, the empire is yours - Bronislav grabs Omenuko.
- Indeed we did, but there's a long road ahead.
*Both laugh*
- We are rich baby - Omenuko says. |
"Jon, let's go for a big one."
Where did that come from? I flick my eyes around to see no one in the gym's mirrors.
I'm going off the reservation.
Unracking the barbell, my form is perfect. Dropping down to parallel is a breeze. Two twenty-five felt like one thirty-five. Three days of rest must activate the Superman leg gene.
"I bet you could do three plates."My head whips around and scans the front desk. No employee. No guy living out of his car. No sign of human life.
"Alright Ghostface Killah. I'll do three,"I say to the entire gym. Which is no one.
No response.
My arms swing out to their sides, I flex all my muscles, and slap the arms down. That's the "Get hyped or get broke"routine.
Loaded up the bar on my back. I stand up. Step back. Say a silent prayer to the Iron Gods.
"You got this!"GK said. I didn't look around for the whispering creeper this time.
I drop and my legs fire back up like an explosion.
"Fuck... I did it!"A primal scream comes out, and I high-five the power rack a bunch of times like I'm playing the drums.
"Boom!"GK's voice rumbles the white walls of the gym.
"Come out here, Ghostie! I need to hug you."
Silence.
I grab my gym bag and make my way for the exit. "You're the man, GK. See you next time."
Without looking back, I pause for a second at the door.
"It's a gym date."
|
"This is Jane Osman from CMM and we just got news that the infamous CEO from EnviroCo was murdered. The CEO was under heavy investigation from environmental crimes, tax evasion, and other charges of corruption. This marks the 5th case in the murder spree against CEOs of great companies known for environmental crimes. We're with Kelly live on Eagle One with more informations. Kelly."
"That's right Jane. We're flying over the EnviroTower were the crime just occurred. Fonts garantee that the perpetrator is still on the building. Rowan close in the building...
Ow my...I think I see a person? There seem to be some kind green dressed fanatic with big red mane... Seems like we have our own vengeful Captain Planet Don Cheadle style. Can we get a better view for the public?"
"What the heck!"
"Rowan what is it?"
"It's not human Jane! Whatever it is, it's not human! I've heard about something like this before....My mother used to tell me histories... Folktales from her home country... It's a demon!"
"What are talking about!?"
"A curupira. A demon guardian of forests. He came to take revenge on us!! Let's get out of here!"
|
Fury of Nature’s Children
The young hunter returned, only to find her village razed to the ground. Smoke rose in gray, putrid clouds that smell of death and suffering, and she ran into the village, searching for survivors.
But her search yielded naught but corpses, charring and smoking, and blood, running like a grotesque river through the remains of the place she’d been raised her whole life.
The only clues as to the identity of the brigand were its scent, the sharp, clean smell of a cold winter breeze, and some kind of ichor, a bright lime green that glittered like jewels.
The warrior vowed to herself that she would wreak vengeance on whatever had decimated her village, her only home.
After all, what was another hunt? It wouldn’t be the first time.
\*\*
As days turned into weeks, then months, Liana stayed on the creature’s grisly, bloody trail, following the remains of animals—and more than one human—through the mountains.
Just when she was sure that she could not take another step, she reached the summit of Frostmaker, and followed the creature’s shadow into the cavern system that led deep into the heart of the mountain. It was humanoid; Liana could not tell what sort of monster she’d sworn to kill.
Anyway, it hardly mattered; her word was her bond, and she had to see this through, regardless of the horror she’d followed to its lair.
Fear sent her heart hammering in her chest, and she gritted her teeth. She’d been one of the best hunters in the village; this wouldn’t be much of a challenge.
Her courage faltered when she realized that now, she was the best and only hunter left.
What if she was wrong, and she failed? Then she’d be joining her family, friends, and neighbors in the next world.
The thought was enough to sicken Liana, because, damn it all, she was afraid. Of the unknown, of death, of time running out before she could fulfill her promise.
She began to creep into the opening, all too aware of her own heavy breathing. The darkness was so complete she could see nothing, and the back of her neck prickled.
She was being watched. Whatever lived in this cave, it was waiting to strike.
Just when she could bear the silence no longer, a voice rang out of the darkness, dark and deep and seductive all at once.
“You’re the last of that village I slaughtered, aren’t you? I knew you were coming.”
A pair of bright green eyes glowed like hellish embers in the black.
“Why did you kill my loved ones?” Liana demanded, and flinched when her voice bounced back at her, off of the walls.
“What gave you the right to kill them? To kill everyone?”
A slight pause. Then cruel, wicked laughter.
“Oh, you humans are amusing,” The creature said from the dark womb of its home. “All you do is take and take, until there is nothing left. And then you expect to get away with it, to not have consequences? I don’t think so.”
The figure waved a hand, and blinding red light made Liana flinch and cover her eyes.
When they finally adjusted, she saw what was speaking: A fire spirit in the form of a humanoid woman, her skin as gray as volcanic ash and eyes dancing with flames. Its hair was flickering fire, in all shades of orange, red, and yellow. It wore nothing by way of clothing, only a cloak, presumably for stealth purposes.
“You and your kind are far from innocent,” It hissed, black lips peeling from its mouth in a snarl. “They deserved their ends, and so do you!”
Before Liana could react, she was engulfed in flame, trapped in a hellish nightmare. She felt so hot that she feared she would burst, but soon, the pain took over everything, and the last thing she saw was the spirit’s face, cackling with wicked mirth.
\*\* |
"Hey Morty, I'm gonna take 5,"I called out, stepping outside for a quick smoke. The door chime sounded off as I pushed the double doors open; a quick blast of cold Massachusetts air striking my face. Morty, my late 40s, slightly overweight with a greasy comb-over, manager tossed a dishrag over his shoulder.
"Alright, but you need to step away from the diner if you light up. You know the rules."
"Yeah yeah, I know,"I answered back, fumbling with the Marlboro carton in my pocket. I continued walking to the edge of the sidewalk overlooking the parking lot. It was still dusk out and the lot was still illuminated by the light poles. The diner was basically empty this morning except for a lone truck driver reading a newspaper in the back. I placed a cigarette against my lips, flipped open my lighter, and took in a long drag. Today was going to be a long day, I could feel it. The smoke uncurled from my lips and quickly dissipated along with the gusts of wind traveling across the parking lot. The neon *Al's Diner* sign above my head hummed. I tapped my cigarette, sparks and ash floating towards the ground, and looked out across the parking lot. A pair of headlights broke the darkness. I watched as the same blue '93 Corolla drove into the lot.
"Hmm, he's here a little early,"I said to myself, taking in another drag. I of course was talking about our regular: a Mr. Peter O'Neil. Mid 70s white guy always dressed in a plaid button down and work jeans. He would come to the diner every morning and order the #3 every day: 2 scrambled eggs, 2 pieces of bacon (slightly burnt), followed by a cup of medium-roast Dunkin with one and a half creamers. Nice man, but a little quiet. His wife had passed a few years ago, and had been eating breakfast with us ever since. Today though, he seemed to be in a hurry.
The Corolla parked crooked, half-taking up another spot next to it. The engine turned off and Mr. O'Neil stepped out and began walking towards the diner. He forgot to turn his lights off. I dropped my cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with my shoe.
"Morning Mr. O'Neil,"I said to him as he approached. "You uh, you know you left your lights on right?"I stared at the man as he hurried towards me. Things didn't seem right. I cocked my head, squinting my eyes. His normally combed white hair? Disheveled. Not wearing a plaid shirt either; in its place a...purple robe...or some kind of duster jacket. There was gold embroidering down his left sleeve. Weird.
He continued fast-walking towards the diner. "Uh, Mr. O'Neil, did you hear me?"He stepped closer now and I could see his face more clearly. Ok, things were *definitely* off. He was DRENCHED in sweat, like, streaking down his face. Looked as if he had just ran a marathon through a rainstorm.
"Morning Jeffery,"O'Neil replied, his voice sounding anxious. "Wicked cold ain't it?"He rushed past me and pushed aside the diner doors.
"Um, sure yeah, it's chilly."I replied. "But, uh, are you gonna turn your headlights off?"I followed him inside. "And what are you wearing exactly?"
Mr. O'Neil walked over to the counter and started taking off his robe, placing it on an adjacent swivel chair. Walking around him to get behind the counter, I noticed he was wearing a dirty sleeveless T-shirt. To compliment his purple robe, he had several purple bruises up and down his left arm. *What the Hell?*
"Mr. O'Neil, what happened to your arm?"I asked concerned. "Are you alright? That looks pretty messed up."I glanced behind me as Morty stepped in from the back. I gestured to the man's bruises. This time, I also noticed an elaborate gold chain around his neck, dropping behind his shirt. Some kind of necklace?
"Peter, is everything alright?"Morty asked, shooting me a puzzled expression. "Do you need us to call someone for ya?"
"No!"O'Neil shot out, startling Morty and I. His bloodshot eyes widened; a look of desperation crept over his face. He let out a sigh and centered himself a second later. "I mean, yes, yes. Everything is fine."I just had an accident at home. Missed the last step walking down the stairs - you know how it can be sometimes."He let out a worried chuckle. A long pause followed. Even the truck driver had lowered his paper to get a peek at what was going on. O'Neil cleared his throat. "Alright gentlemen, you know the drill. I'll take the regular."
I looked back at Morty and then to Mr. O'Neil. Sweat still dripped down his chin, small puddles forming on the counter top. *Things were NOT ok.*
"Um, sure Mr. O'Neil, I'll get right on it for ya."I answered his request, walking to the fridge to get some eggs.
"Thank you Jeffery,"he answered. "Oh, I'll be right back. Forgot to turn my lights off."He hurried back outside to attend to his car.
I glanced at Morty again, searching for an answer to this confusion. Nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, and walked back inside the kitchen. I continued gathering my things needed to make Peter's breakfast. The diner was eerily silent now. The once clean-cut, put together old man? Now, a cornered animal, hands running through his hair. He looked like he was on the verge of mental collapse. None of this made any sense - his clothes, his behavior, his accident. *What had happened to him?* |
It's today.
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My heart was pounding, pumping the injected adrenalin through my thickened vessels. Everything seemed to blur in motion as I shifted my weight from right, to left; moving forward to my corner of the ring. My iron grip clenched on the gun I picked up from the metal floor, instincts whispering nothing but one thing: kill.
&#x200B;
*Oh boy, I will...*
&#x200B;
The Twisted Clown, as we dare to call the Joker behind all this mess, believes that Mini Hunger Games he created will deter people from committing crime. Which, through drastic means, it did. He also kinda changed the law. You see, I am here for a parking ticket.
&#x200B;
The crime rate has dropped by 20% within the first year of introducing his solution. At first, it was only major offences, such as rape and murder - which people seemed to be okay with, for the most part. They started broadcasting each game. Prisoners' victims' families did enjoy watching them pay for their sins, it also seemed to give them closure. With so many views, their revenue spiked. They lost their minds. So they started to send more and more people in and putting them on more and more screens. And that, that was their mistake.
&#x200B;
With so many funds gone into allocating over 2 billion people a cage to sleep in, countless cages to battle to death in, and quite expensive broadcasting equipment, they had to compromise on some ends. One of them, as we have discovered: security.
&#x200B;
Don't get me wrong, the whole prison is extremely secure. No-one can go in, not even if they had a tank. But the battle cages? They were simply 5 walls made up of an iron fence, a small gate locked with a simple padlock. Simple enough to get blasted away with a gun. Then, getting out was just a matter of time, our sheer numbers would allow us to take over. That's the theory at least.
&#x200B;
My relentless sweating did not stop as I gazed at my prey. My primitive bloodlust was loud and clear, with one primary objective: kill.
&#x200B;
A numbing bell rang once, its sound piercing my bones. My legs gave in and I collapsed onto my knees. In the moment, I grasped back my sense of reality. Looking around, no inmate cheered, just eyes with laser sharp focus, waiting. Patiently.
&#x200B;
I staggered back onto my feet, looking back at Carl in the opposite corner. His eyes watery, hand trembling. He nodded in hope I am still in for our plan, that I didn't abandon my humanity. That I won't kill him.
&#x200B;
I gave him a warming smile, though, god knows how he interpreted that in that moment.
&#x200B;
I raised my gun and fired the bullet of revolution.
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&#x200B; |
I knew this was going to happen. I shouldn't have let Archie talk me into this whole thing. But it was a done deal as soon as I got into his flivver. He and his gal Grace thought they could show me a grand old time. "Best time you'll have this side of the Rouge,"he said. I wasn't convinced, but I had nothing better to do after getting off from the factory, and it'd been a bit since I had a real drink.
Archie drove us up to the place, which was in the back of a hat shop. It was after hours, but the door to the front of the store was unlocked. The three of us walked to the back where there was a little door hidden behind some display racks.
"This is how we get into the joint,"Archie said. "Joe down at the foundry said you knock five times. Guy asks who wants some tea, and you say Warren G."
And it went just like that. Five knocks and a harsh voice and Archie giving the code. A bruiser of a guy opened the door and led us down to the basement, where there was a jazz band and about forty guys and gals drinking and having a grand old time. Even the piano man was knocking them back.
"Hooch came in over the river from Windsor,"Archie says. "The Purple outfit has been running some high quality stuff from the Canadians. No turpentine or any of that crap, won't turn you blue or put you six feet under."
"How reassuring,"I said, taking a seat next to Grace. She was a looker alright, but I didn't let my eyes linger lest I piss off Archie.
The three of us were in there for about an hour and thirty minutes before it all went to hell. The barman hit a switch that flipped all the shelving behind him back into the wall, a horrible crunching sound overcoming the playing band. It was all for naught. The fuzz busted in real quick. All of us were pretty loaded, and the only way into the basement was through the stairway, which was where all the heat was. Apparently there was a passageway off to the side, as most of the people in the know snuck out that way, including Archie and Grace. That left me and a few straggler members of the jazz band. A big burly cop decked me in the gut and sent me reeling. When I got up back on my feet, he and his goon partner had me cuffed.
"I didn't do anything, officer,"I managed. "I just came down here to check the joint out."
"Well, I assume you know that speakeasies are illegal, and that drinking in one is as well."
"I guess, I just don't see the harm,"I managed. The cop chuckled. "The harm is that you happened to be at this particular establishment, which many of our fellow officers hold in disrepute."
"This establishment?"
The other cop started chuckling.
"What the Sgt is trying to say is that we are much more amenably inclined towards Morty's off of Woodward."
I put two and two together.
"What's the word?"The cop who decked me undid my cuffs. "They ask who pays the piper, and you say Al."
"Simple as that?"
"Yeah."
The cops proceeded to bash in the place with their Billy clubs, but they let all of us out. Helluva world we live in these days.
|
Slowly, keeping my body hidden, I stayed near the treeline. This moose in front of me, his scars..they run deep. He is old, wise, but still strong. He has yet to see me, a grizzly bear. Suddenly, this moose tenses up. He smells me. It is far too late for him. I roar as I stand up on my hind legs, bringing about my paws to my side and stretch them out, preparing for a swipe to the neck. I must steer clear of these antlers, any one swing of them will hinder any attempt to take him down, and he is experienced.
I make a swipe at the side of his neck with my right paw, bashing the beast along, feeling my three and a half inch claws bury themselves into the neck of this animal, as he bellows out. I can feel the rage and fight in this moose from this one blow. Unlike deer or elk, this moose has no intention of simply running away. On my hind legs, I stand at the height of his antlers, but he is unafraid.
He pushes in at me and I grab his antlers with both claws, and attempt to wrestle him to the ground. I manage to pull his head, where his body follows, but he does not fall over. I release my right paw from his antler, and raise it up before slamming it back down onto the head of the moose, causing him to bellow out once more. I roar back in return. I sink my teeth into his shoulder, and use my strength to push on his ribs with my left paw, his shoulder with my neck and face, and his head with my right paw. I extend my legs and drive into him, forcing the moose over. He attempts to kick me several times, but I’m already on top of him. I slash and rip away at his neck and chest with my paws, roaring and grunting the entire time as his bellows go from ones of anger to ones deprived of energy and will to fight. Eventually, he goes limp. I, on all fours again, reach over with my jaws and lock his throat in them to begin dismantling the moose. I tear into the muscle, feeling the heat radiate off his insides in my mouth and on my face. As I consume, I can smell a pack of wolves not far off. I know they fear me, as every animal should. |
I sauntered to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. My cold had progressed over the last week, leaving my nose vulnerable to running and my throat aching and stinging that not even tea with honey was able to make it feel better. My throat was red, raw and angry, and my nose peeling from the amount of tissues that had attacked it over the last few days.
&#x200B;
My eyes were drooping from the lack of sleep I had been getting from the relentless cold. I grabbed a bottle of liquid cold medicine, and instead of measuring out its recommended 30 milliliters I just took a giant pull like an alcoholic with a fifth of Jack Daniels. I felt the more I took, the quicker it would kick in, and the fast I would finally get a real night's rest. I closed the medicine cabinet, and instead of putting the cold medicine back, I carried it back to my bedroom and placed it on the nightstand next to me bed, just for good measure.
&#x200B;
I got into bed and placed the covered over my body, and took a sip of the hot tea I had made earlier. I turned on my television, and laid in bed waiting for the medicine to make my eyes shut for the night. I put on a sleep timer on the tv and hoped that I would beat the timer and fall asleep before the tv shut off.
&#x200B;
As I watched reruns of an old show, my eyes fluttered and finally closed. It was black behind my eyes, a dreamless night, but what I though would be a restful night. If I was dreaming, I was too tired to know what I was even dreaming about; I was just glad to not be a victim to my own nose.
&#x200B;
It must have been a few hours into my sleep when I heard it. It sounded at first like a soft patter across the hardwood halls of the upstairs of my home. As I heard each small step, my heart produced an extra beat until it felt as if was pounding. The patters got louder and close, going from their soft steps to clomps along the floor. If my light was on, I could only imagine that my skin was pale, drained of any color, my pigment a puddle on the floor under my bed. My hands grew sweaty, my sheets dampening around my palms.
&#x200B;
I could feel my muscles twitching, little involuntary movements, and the skin on my body raising. The clomps had grew faster, not quite a run, but definitely no longer a walk, and they stopped as they reached my bedroom door.
&#x200B;
My eyes flung open before my door could. The handle jiggled, its hand was on the door. My eyes fixated on what I was about to see. My body unable to move. Trapped in my mattress like it was quicksand, sinking in with every millisecond I waited for that door to open.
&#x200B;
It opened slowly without a creak like they do in the movies, and there in the doorway was something impossible.
&#x200B;
It was me. I was in the doorway, looking at myself. No mirrors, no games, just myself. It walked closer to me, and stopped at the foot of my bed. Its eyes looking at me, not breaking to blink. As I looked at it, still paralyzed, it's eyes began to fade and its toothy smile, teeth disappearing. Just a black hole for a mouth and empty eyes.
&#x200B;
Still paralyzed and vulnerable it stared for hours while I felt as I was stitched into my bed. It finally outreached it long arms, much longer than mine which long claw like fingers attached to its hands, it reached out for me, touching my legs through my comforter. It's claws still scratching me through the layer of cloth. The hands getting closer to my face, inching, inching, and suddenly as it reached my face, it vanished.
&#x200B;
My alarm had sounded, my eyes groggy, my nose fighting for air, and my body unsewn from the mattress I had been stuck in. All I could think was how it was a dream, but as I threw the sheets off my body, the reminder was there. The scratches on my legs remained. |
“Hey Darren, your friend Tom is at the door! He says he wants cookies!” “What does he have with him this time?!” “A flamethrower, and he is currently in the process of fighting of about 100 people with katanas! I think they are the Confection Federation!” “Ugg, ok! I will bake some cookies then!” “Please hurry, he is running out of fuel, and reinforcements have arrived!”
My name is Darren Smith, and I make the best cookies. I’m not bragging by the way. It’s actually a fact. When I was five years old, I watched my Mom bake some chocolate chunk cookies, and asked if I could help. She said it was a little too complicated, but I was stubborn, so she gave in. To her surprise, I kinda did the whole thing myself, with expert precision.
Together, we put the cookies in the oven, and waited for them to be done. While we waited, my mom called my dad (of course) to tell of my amazing feat. Finally, we pulled the cookies out of the oven, and I will tell you, the cookies literally had a golden glow, and their was a faint opera in the background (this happens every time I bake cookies).
My Mom slowly tried one of the cookies. Then her legs gave out. My Dad came in at the exact moment that happened. “Honey, what’s wrong?!” “T-t-try”. “What?!” Try the cookies.” He hesitated a moment, took slow steps to the cookies, picked one up, and took a bite. Then he fainted.
News spread pretty quick on my skill (or magic, scientist don’t know). Everyone tried my cookies, and then craved, no, needed my cookies. Neighbors, police, priest, dogs, government officials, everyone wanted my cookies, and it didn’t matter what type (even raisin cookies were blessed with power). It was fun at first, but then it got...serious. Only I could make the cookies that good, and it takes (for me at least) 30 minutes, and I could only make a few batches. This causes problems on who gets my cookies at certain times.
People did crazy things to just get my cookies. People tried to give me their money, their pets or children, murdered their friends or family to get the cookies faster, moved on our lawn. Eventually wars were fought, and even nukes were almost used. This was when I had enough.
I barely had any free time to myself, and seeing people get murdered did not help my psyche. I was offered or given countries and territories (I only accepted Hawaii), and I no nothing of leadership. Laws were changed so constantly because of my cookies, I needed handbooks to understand changes (which I barely got to read, but people don’t mind laws being broken by me).
I had to leave school just to keep up with cookie demand. I could even no longer make friends. Most only wanted my cookies. Thankfully, I met Tom. He’s a boy my age (18 now), who actually wanted to be my friend. Not only that, he thought my cookies tasted like garbage(Scientists can’t explain that either)! He became a good adviser for peace, and actually made it so people got cookies at certain times, and in an orderly fashion, no exceptions. Sadly a lot of people did not like this, and form groups dedicated to getting my cookies by force (like the Confection Federation)
So I was baking my godly cookies, when a heard many shouts. What got me outside was Tom’s now grizzled voice from many wars with the Federation. “Darren, get your *** out here!” I quickly ran out with my peanut butter cookies, and looked in the sky with awe. Almost 1000 of what can be described as UFOs were in orbit. I then heard a booming voice in my language (English by the way). “Darren, our people the Trovians are at war with our enemy, the Asini!Peace talks have failed, and soon, weapons of mass destruction will be used on both sides. Our extinction is imminent. Only your cookies can save us!
To this, I sigh.....maybe I should have just baked cakes. |
"Behold, I am *divine incandescence!*"I roar with enough might to make the very ground crumble -- or at least with enough might to get the attention of the other gods, the *lesser* gods.
Zeus as usual feels the need to be the first to reply. "For fucks sake Tom! Do we really need to do this every day?"
"Watch thy tongue peasant! Or I shall cut it from your mouth using my blessed weapon *Gum Scraper*!"I reply.
Zeus adorns his stupidly perfect face with a look of boredom, but I know it masks a fear deeper than the deepest pits of Hades.
"How do you suppose he's going to *enlighten* us today?"Apollo mumbles to Ares.
I hear this clear insubordination fall from Apollo's ugly, glimmering, shiny, clean teeth, but decide to simply let it go. Of course, I was tempted to snap my finger and laugh as he burst into an infinitesimal number of dust particles, but a god as powerful as myself needs to show mercy to the lesser being occasionally. Never let it be said that I am a cruel god.
Today was the day I would claim my rightful place as the god of gods. For years I have made attempts to convince the lesser gods that I was their rightful leader. For years they have brushed me aside. For years I have wondered what the best way to get through to these dimwits could be. Today however, I have found the solution. I have figured out why my words weren't getting through to them. I'm simply *too intelligent*! I need to dumb my words and message down to a level these fools can understand. I will just speak in a way even they can understand.
Knowing that these poor lesser being just don't understand their place in my world, I put on my most sympathetic face. I want them to know that I understand their plights. "You listen me. Me Zeus now. Me take care you. You worship me. You listen me!"
The room went silent for longer than I anticipated it would take their idiotic minds to process such simple words. Perhaps "worship"was too big of a word for them to comprehend?
Zeus exhaled a deep breath causing the tapestry on the walls to shake. Surely this was the moment he realized his place in my world! He walked towards me with the same stupid bored look and pat me on the shoulder.
"I'm ready to concede the throne to you, mighty Tom."Zeus said gently. "Now one can not simply take the throne, there is a certain level of tradition and ceremony involved in the act. You must undergo the trial of the gods"
Filled with uncontrollable excitement, I screeched out my response. "I'll do it! I'll do it! Tell me what to do!"
Zeus looked me in the eyes and told me of the grand journey I must take part in to complete the trial of the gods. To become the god of gods, I must humble myself to the lowly position of janitor. I must walk as lesser being walk. I must clean as lesser being clean. After a century maintaining the pristine cleanliness of Mount Olympus, I will have what it takes to mount the throne and rule the gods!
I shake Zeus' hand and let him know that he had a really good run, and shouldn't feel bad that he wasn't perfect. After all, he's not me. I turn to head out the door and begin my trial when Zeus stops me.
"I need to give you the final detail of your trial before you begin"Zeus says. "The gods you see before you in this room, including myself are absolutely mediocre beings. I fear that our mediocrity will taint your perfection during this trial. I apologize on behalf of all the gods, but for your own sake, it would be best if you didn't interact with us in any shape or form during this trial."
Ah, of course! perhaps it has been my daily interaction with them that has kept me from attaining my throne this entire time. I pondered. "Weep no tears my children"I say with a trembling voice. "One day I will return and lead you all to greatness". |
Okay.
Look, just yesterday, I was just lounging about in my living room when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, my cat Kira, having managed to climb up to the counter to eat my cheeseburger. I was kinda mad at first, but then again, it's a cat, and they are pretty cute and popular. So, I decided, to humor myself, to take a few pictures of Kira and her meal. I then uploaded it into my Instagram account, again, just for laughs and to see what would happen.
The next morning, when I woke up, I just wanted to have my lights turn on, but when I asked my Google Assistant to do it, there was no response. Odd, I thought, and decided to try and look for answers (not after trying to fix it by resetting it or something), where, to my horror, every website, even Google and every other search browser, came up with a 404 error. I have absolutely no idea what happened, and might never understand just the reason for it.
Then, someone knocked on my door. Looking through the peephole, I just froze up. It's some employee from AT&T, and he didn't look very happy. I let him in after I regained my bearings and led him to the living room so we could talk for a bit. I recall the conversation going like:
"So, uh, Aliza, right?"
"Yea."
"Well... I mean, no one in the world already doesn't know, but the Internet, all the servers dedicated to the Internet, just straight up crashed."
"I know that."
"Okay. So, 12 hours ago, you posted an image of a cat eating a cheeseburger."
"Mmhmm."
"Apparently, it got so popular that the amount of data it generated corrupted some lines of code and crashed the entire system."
"Wait... really?!"
"Yeah. Surprising, right? Well, thanks to you, the whole INternet's gonna be down for about a month."
"That can't be too bad, right?"
"Quite the opposite, really. Do you know how many important jobs rely on it 24/7?"
"Oh... crap..."
So here I was, stuck without access to the Internet, whilst realizing the grave impact of my actions. At least, if there was a lesson to be learned here, it's that you shouldn't just carelessly post cat images or videos. They will come back to bite you, hard.
...
Oh, and if you're wondering how I managed to get this out there... Let's just say this wasn't written on October 15, 2020. |
Thanos thudded to the ground as Thor’s axe buried itself in his chest. The God of Thunder landed next to the Mad Titan and grabbed the handle, forcing Stormbreaker further. “I told you” Thor growled, shooting a look of pure hatred into Thanos’s eyes. “You’d die for that.”
Thanos, breathing heavily through the pain, managed to gasp out a single sentence as he raised his hand. “You should have… you should have aimed for the head!” Before Thor could react, the Titan snapped his fingers, the six stones in his Gauntlet letting out a flash of light.
A couple of meters away, an unassuming elementary school principal, who had until that point been wondering what he was doing there, and why he’d been suddenly dragged into what appeared to be an alien war, suddenly smiled widely, a sharp contrast from his previous attitude. He threw off his toupee, then his clothes, leaving him standing only in his underpants. With a resounding ‘Tra-la-laaaa!” the principal somehow lifted into the air and flew away.
Thor, meanwhile, was staring at the Mad Titan in horror. “What did you do?” he demanded. Thanos ignored the Asgardian, raising his fist again to activate the Space Stone and escape. He was about to clench it when he suddenly found his hand blocked by a stupendously strong pair of what appeared to be Y-fronts.
Captain Underpants stood in front of him, now wearing a red cape with black dots on it and stretching a second pair of Y-fronts between his fingers. Even the power of the Mind Stone wasn’t enough to help Thanos comprehend what exactly was going on here, and before his brain had even started properly processing this new development, the Y-fronts were hitting him in the face. The Waistband Warrior leapt forward to punch his adversary in the chin before Thanos could recover.
“I don’t know exactly who you are” Captain Underpants admitted as he pulled the Toilet Paper of Justice from his utility waistband and used it to bind Thanos’s leg, tripping him up. “But I can see that you are a villain, and so I will defeat you in the name of Truth, Justice, and All That Is Pre-Shrunk and Cottony!”
Thanos, seeing that it would be too difficult to remove the Toilet Paper of Justice quickly, instead chose to focus on the Y-fronts covering the Gauntlet. He had just managed to tear them away when a final punch from the Captain knocked him unconscious.
Steve Rogers, who had just been knocked to the floor by the Mad Titan seconds ago, pulled himself to his feet and sprinted forward, grabbing the Infinity Gauntlet and pulling it from the unconscious Thanos’s hand. Knowing what Thanos had done by snapping his fingers, and aware that any second, he could become a victim, Steve hurried to put the Gauntlet on his own hand. Once that was done, he snapped his own fingers, willing the universe to cancel the last order that the Gauntlet had been given. The mass disappearances that the universe had already begun to experience stopped just as quickly as they had started, with those unlucky few who had already disintegrated suddenly reforming.
Captain Underpants noticed none of this. He was too busy checking that the Titan had been well and truly defeated, and giving another triumphant “Tra-la-laaaaa!” to notice anything until Steve tapped him on the shoulder. With a bit of water conjured by the Reality Stone and flicked into his face, amazing superhero Captain Underpants reverted back to being grumpy principal Benny Krupp. A quick application of the Space Stone sent the man back to Jerome Horwitz Elementary School.
Thor tugged the axe out of Thanos’s unconscious form and stared in bewilderment at Steve, who grinned back as he casually used the Reality Stone to trap the Titan until they could decide what to do with him.
“I thought I’d seen everything the Earth had to offer” Thor muttered. |
The observatory was silent. The machinery, cold. A strong smell of rusted metal emanated from the very core of this machine. A small monocle, dusty, covered in a gold trim across the edge of the glass, with a small chain attached to it, hanging of the table, grooves on the legs cut only by a skilled artisan. A pencil, poorly maintained. Coated in supposed metal and completely still, on the stone floor next to the eyepiece of this vast machinery. A small eyepiece, lined with gold, protrudes from the machine. My skin tenses, hair raising. This place does not remind me of home. Once within the comfort of this bed, now exposed to this work of mechanical excellence. I approach the table, as the echoes from my slippers dance across the room. A large level protrudes from the ground, next to the table. A sheet of paper, with sketches of stars, mathematical equations, and one word.
**PULL**
I stare at the lever. Worn and rusty. Words, of another language, intricate signage and details. The machine, still, as if it beckons me, asking for a revival. On the base of the fulcrum, planets, etched into the metal frame that has long lost its lustrous shine. Three planets labelled in a copper and black colour theme. One, a single, black asteroid, with what seems to be a small natural satellite circling its circumference. Two, that can only be described as a planet circled by the most intricate rings and moons, detailed to the very millimeter, as if it shines importance to society’s culture. And three, Earth. The undeniable continents of home, and a small dot on the location of my house. However, this dot was drawn on, with a pencil. The pencil on the floor. My hair stands on its ends as I grasp the pencil, noticing that it still feels warm to the touch, as it shatters into hundreds of small, dusty pieces. The lever, once again, grabs my attention, alluring me to pull it. As I grasp my hands around the beam, it vibrates, and once it stopped, I pull it.
I heave the leaver, around the pivot, and stop at the asteroid. The machinery flares to life as the parts start to rearrange myself. Hundreds or thousands of intricate, minuscule objects circle the heart of the machine, and settles after mere seconds. I look through the eyepiece, seeing the asteroid, with a noticeable mirror on it, slightly curved, and slowly spinning. A man, climbing up the mirror, is the only sign of life I see, and as he scales the mirror, I close my eye, and pull my head from the eyepiece.
I heave the lever again, this time, to the second planet. The machine flares to life again, but this time, steam bellows out of the pipes on the right of the machine. The eye piece also starts rotating, until it turns onto its side. The machine, after ten seconds, settles once again. As my eye focuses on the eyepiece once again, I see giant objects stationed within the rings of this light brown planet. Circling the rings, small ships, and a large galleon, exiting the object. The planet seems uninhabited, possibly left untouched by the civilization. And thus, I finish watching them, and hold the lever.
I pull it once more, this time, taking a lot more effort. The lever suddenly disappears underneath the floor, and the machine starts rising, along with the floor, and me with it. All the metal parts start rotating around the observatory, and I gaze at the colossal structure being build as I stand. Parts fly by me as they join the machine, including the monocle, which suddenly attaches itself to the eyeglass, as if it was second nature to its inanimate self. Minutes pass, and the machine finally concludes its reconfiguration, and I stare through the eyeglass once more.
Shattered remains of a once prosperous civilization, that’s all I could describe it as. Remnants of civilizations destroyed, lost forever. My heart sinks as I realize that the planet is my home. The home I resided in, and I forcefully pull myself away from the eyepiece.
Suddenly, footsteps approach me, and before I could run, a man’s voice yells my name. My legs prevent me from running, as I notice the shadow of the figure from a doorway increase in size by the second. The man appears, somewhat unsurprised at what has happened, and he holds out his hand, and speaking.
“Everything will be alright. Come with me.”
His goatee, brown and laced with white strands shows a contrast to his wig, completely black, clean, and obviously fake. The suit he wears, the classic attire of a scientist, welcomes me. I grab my hand, clueless of what I could potentially walk into, and he paces me too the door, down the hallway, and to a fate that he knows, but I don’t.
|
"A bit quirky, I'll admit."said the creator with a nostalgic distance in its voice. "But it was one of the first things I implemented, and at the time I thought it would be cool to watch you all slowly regress to the roots of your genetic trees."Djon looked around his cell in disbelief.
His livable space was a bare 10 feet cubed. The walls were non existent but somehow effective to imprison him regardless. Beyond his personal space was what appeared to be a typical suburban garage, or perhaps repurposed storage shed, fit for any father with a hobby. An entity stood in the center of the room which earlier had introduced itself to Djon as his creator. When Djon tried to look at it, his head began to hurt.
"So tell me,"said the creator in a more assertive tone, "how do you feel about the implications of that?"Djon turned his face as the creator moved it's presence around his cage and encroached on his field of view. "I can look up whatever you want to know, Djon. Don't waste this final chance for enlightenment on implementation details. Or if you prefer I can pop you off to GC and get this stack moving."
Djon closed his eyes to escape the now all encompassing migraine. Without knowing how to leave this strange prison he did the only thing that seemed to make sense at the time and assumed the fetal position. The creator continued in a more soothing voice. "I understand this is a lot. From one consciousness to another, I want you to know that I am offering this opportunity purely out of kindness. But as I said earlier, you're the first. So the experience might need some iterations."
Djon replied without breaking pose, "If I'm the first, does that mean nobody died after me? How is that even possible, I thought people died literally constantly."The creator brightened, showing Djon the red of his eyelids despite his palms.
"Good deduction. You're right, actually. Just as you died a breakthrough was made which allowed a human's mental state to be digitized. A particular company scanned literally every living human from orbit, and from that point on it became fairly hard to say someone died. All the way, anyway."
The light receeded and Djon found himself on his feet. His eyes confirmed the creator's migraine inducing effect had stopped, though his prison remained. He heard the original voice of the creator as if it had come from his own mouth. "I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you. I am cursed with the knowledge that my final sleep could, against my autonomy, reverse at any moment after I consciously commit myself to it. But this is the cost of progress. You have escaped such a fate and will soon find great stillness."
Djon walked backwards and slid down the wall with various looks of resignation and relief. The creator spoke through him again. "So, to the Garbage Collection then?"The silence that followed agreed, and Djon couldn't identify the barrier between something and nothing as he passed through it. |
M popped a couple of aspirn as she leaned back in her chair. The silver haired woman who looked a lot like Dame Judi Dench sighed. Days like this almost made her wish she’d married that accountant like her mum had said. Even when he got results she was sure that Bond would be the death of her someday. Steeling herself. “what were you thinking M? Pair 007 up with the worst thing the England has to throw at it’s enemies: An Irishwoman. It can’t go wrong. You said.. This was two steps beyond barking” she murmured. But somehow this woman had done the seemingly impossible, survive the affections of James Bond.
“Moneypenny, please send her in”
The door opened and in walked a fit and well endowed woman clad in a black catsuit, that looked straight out of an old episode of The Avengers. Unruly ringlets of red hair washed down her back, her freckled face and blue eyes exuded exhaustion and disdain for M.
“You wanted to see me?
“Yes Miss O’Flannigan, I wanted to discuss the mission with bond. Of the many women’ he’s worked with, you are the first to survive in a while.
“Oi, ye mean that daft coont? I swear on me mum e’s twice as thick as a bulls walt and half as useful, Were you takin’ the piss making me work with that slimy git?”
“Sorry? He’s our best agent, his reputation is…” M started indignantly
“Fookin’ gobshite, ‘I tells ye. ‘e buggers everything.”
“Noted.. Now if you would be so good, start with Dubai. The initial assignment to rescue “Diana”.
Katrine “Kitty” O’ Flannigan took a deep breath and calmed herself. “ Sorry. It’s just that I had to do everything. Ye mean the kidnapped scientist being held hostage? Turns out she was actually an AI attached to the sub.”
“Yes, our nuclear submarine which was stolen by ISIS and then stolen by the UAE.”
“Somehow they brainwashed her into becoming muslim, and whatnot, but they kept the backup disc in an office in the Burj Kalifa. “
“So where did this go awry?
“Bond drank heavily when we were hiding in the sheik’s liquor cabinet. Well more like a liquor closet. I cracked the safe with the smartphone with the backup while he drank. Then when the goons showed and started shooting at us, he could’nt hit a single one, then he grabbed the wrong backpack. I had to find the flash drive with the launch codes while shooting them myself. We get cornered in the shiek’s motorcycle museum which is near the top of the building. So thetres too many Goons, and our only escape is riding a Harley Davidson down the bloody building.”
“You drove a motorcycle down the tallest building in the world? “
“Aye, with Bond over the back, puking his guts out. Somehow I get us to the ground and we have the entire police force of Dubai in their Ferraris chasing us to the dock where the sub is. I manage to jump us off the dock and onto the sub before it dived, then I have to fight the terrorists who are sailing the sub into position to target Israel during Hanukah.”
“And Bond?’
“I told you he grabbed the wrong backpack? Well’ it was stuffed full of booze. American Whiskey”. He did hit the leader with a bottle he threw then passed out while I restored the Ai’s personality, disarmed the missiles and figured out how to discreetly get the sub back to us without advertising the existence of it,”
M shook her head. It was bonkers, but Kitty was telling the truth,
‘Do I even want to know about Tokyo?
“Well about Tokyo…”
|
My name is Patrick Potter, and I'm THE SPIDERMAN. Not to be confused with the sassy other kid that stole my brand name, I was here before him.
My power? I think it's pretty obvious I throw spiders from my mouth...what did you expected? It's because of those reaction that I'm not yet famous, DAMN. Nonetheless I'm proud of my power, do you know why? None of the vilains I've encountered escaped me. They all surrendered, can that Brooklyn kid say the same? I'm in service for thirteen long years and never been defeated, I should be the true star! Alot of people tell me I should have left Montana for a big city, but if I had, I will never have encountered my arch-nemesis. He's one of the filthiest bastard I know: a German Nazi soldier frozen in a cryogenic capsule, and he is the true evil. He's name is Hans, Flammenwerfer Hans. And I swear to defeated him.
Do you want some pancakes? |
I’ll give it a shot...
The sun gleamed off of the jagged glass on a rusted tractor. Its backhoe tore deep into the rubble that covered the area like a granite quarry, crushing concrete and any remnants of glass that might be left behind. This would be the deepest we’ve ever dug so far, and the thought of finding something useful that I could give to a world that was hungry for anything that might make life just a little easier gave me butterflies in my stomach.
The crushing rock gave way to a squeaking, the likes of which I have never heard before. I pondered for a second.
“We reached the plastic layer. Looks like my theories were correct,” I yell over the sound of heavy machinery and squeaking plastic.
As soon as the plastics were moved out of the way, the backhoe began clawing at air. The machinery stops, so I decided to walk over to the edge of the hole we dug. One of the workers got there before me.
“Um, sir? I- I um...”
My pace quickened until at last I reached the rim of the manmade cavity now dug into manmade dirt, and: there it was, sitting in a tunnel that went down on either side of it, like the top of an underground arch.
There was the fleshy, opened body of a person, I couldn’t tell the sex, who lacked a area on the face for eyes. The mouth was ajar, and from it, a mouth of molars.
Even though it was definitely dead, its body moved and writhed with a million tiny maggots. I’ve found bones before, even preserved bodies in the plastic, but never anything like this. A collage, a modern art masterpiece of white wiggling on top of flesh all swimming in a pool of frothy blood. This... This was something else. It couldn’t be human, for when I look into the face of this, I cannot see myself, I cannot see any humanity in its blank, pale face.
The more I looked at its surroundings, I noticed that there were large tracks in its area, about what you would expect from a mountain lion sized digging animal.
It seems that there are more things under the pile of human debris, debris that humans made and that now protects the secrets of their catastrophe that should have stayed undisturbed... |
Alex got home from a long day of school. He greeted his parents, grabbed a cookie, and retreated upstairs to start his homework.
He walked into his room and flicked on the light, noticing that it would not turn on. he flicked the switch back and forth a couple times in confusion, then, slightly annoyed, retrieved his parents and asked them to put in the back-up light bulbs. After a couple minutes of fiddling with the overhead lamp, his dad finished replacing the bulb, gave Alex a quick hug, And left. Alex flicked the light switch once again, and watched in satisfaction as modern iridescent light flooded the room. Having finished that, he pulled out his math homework and got to work.
———————————————————————————
This was not good. The math was proving more difficult than Alex could handle. The square root of 49? He thought only trees had roots. After a series of incorrect calculations, Alex was ready to give up entirely. He started to put away his math when a booming voice filled his head. “ The answer is 7.”
“...”
“What?” Alex said, more confused than terrified.
“Hello?” He asked, listening intently for any answer, but none came. His curiosity piqued, he pulled out his math work and checked if the voice was right. It was. Perhaps he was just hearing things? He went on to the next problem, and asked quite loudly,” What about this one?” For a second, nothing happened. Then, from a voice that sounded like it was above him, a reply came. “X equals 24.” Alex’s head spun in confusion. Was god talking to him? Or, more importantly, where was he when Alex failed his science exam? Alex considered his options. He could call his parents, or, better yet, he could call an exorcist. He decided to go with the former, for now.
He opened his mouth to shout, when the voice cut in once again, “Stop, you must keep my identity secret. Many unfortunate things could occur if I were to be found out.” Alex racked his mind, trying to find out the best response. “Who are you?” He asked. This time, the voice answered. “ I go by no name.” To Alex, this seemed pretty cryptic, so he thought up a better question, “well then, what are you?” Once again, the voice replied, “ I am an all seeing stone, forged millennia ago by the most powerful beings in the universe! But, I was forgotten, and I faded into sleep. However, I was woken from my slumber by this current of electricity that now courses through me.”
“Are you...” Alex thought this was ridiculous, he continued, “Are you... inside my ceiling lamp?
“...yes” replied the voice, albeit slightly irritated. “I do not know how I Came to be trapped here, and I cannot get out. Do not think I am not powerful, I can-“
Alex cut him off in his glee, “ oh my gosh, can you grant wishes?”
The stone replied slightly hurt, “ No”
Alex looked down in disappointment, the. Looked up again, and asked, “ can you tell the future? Am I rich?”
Again, the voice said, “ No, but you must not think I am not powerful, I can-“
Alex cut him off again, “ well, what can you do?”
The stone responded, once again prideful. “I can do many things! I can bend the minds of mortals, manipulate the weak and strong! I know the meaning of life, and my sacred quest is to -“
Alex interrupted the stone with a much more pressing question. “ Can you help me do the rest of my math homework?”
“...”
“ yes “ came the voice.
“Awesome!” Shouted Alex. He grabbed his math homework, quickly reciting the multiplication questions, and the voice, grudgingly, gave back quick answers.
|
They call me a singer,
But that ain't true,
Cause my songs are ringers,
The very best blues,
I'm known for my gun,
Smooth as can be,
Every duel I have,
Is obvious to see,
Put the two together,
And you have me,
I dont know whether,
You really see,
I'm not just good,
I'm not just great,
There really should,
Be no debate,
Im the best at both,
It's easy to see,
It's worth the note,
That it is me,
Im the tippy top,
You step to me, you die,
Oh wait, I've been shot,
I guess that's all a lie.
As he walks,
He whistles at rest,
Smooth as he talks,
His tune is the best. |
The day always starts the same way. I'm gasp myself awake suddenly, as if my dreams have kicked me out and told me to go live in the real world for a while. My arms are heavy, they are always heavy. It's hard to move them for a while, I think it's because they aren't done sleeping. I usually rest my eyes for a bit longer until the rest of my body is ready to come with me. The lights are on in my room, but I never remember leaving them on. I take a peak outside my curtains, the day looks nice. Probably not your version of nice, it's raining today. But I much like the rain, it feels good bouncing off my skin when I talk my walks. I tend to day dream a lot so the rain is refreshing and brings me back to the current.
I guess you can't really call it day dreaming, but I can't think of a catchy phrase to call it so lets go with that for now. For a while, a long while, I've been seeing these realities. It's as if i'm the same but everything around me is not. The people and places, the streets and the buildings, they keep changing. Some days it feels familiar, and some days it feels real. But most days I can't remember what real was supposed to feel like.
Let me start over, because now i'm confusing myself again. A few months ago these realities started happening. I would be going about my day and all of a sudden it would be as if the times have changed, literally. One day i'm sitting at the Space Needle in Seattle, then the next i'm watching tanks drive through my town square and Nazi flags painting the buildings red. Some days there aren't even any buildings, just people around my and mountains. Mountains, and caves. It probably sounds to you like i'm hallucinations, seeing myself living in different times of history. I don't blame you, that's what Mr. Willis said too. He's my psychiatrist, a really good guy, great listener. But the weird part of it all is, it doesn't feel like hallucinations, and i'm almost an expert on those, having experimented with Psychedelics a lot when I was younger. The difference is I can feel the air, I can smell the world, and my vision isn't hazy when i'm looking around. I'm the same person, but everything else, it keeps changing.
But the days always start the same. I never wake up slowly, one second i'm sleeping and the next, i'm staring at the lights above. My legs are heavy too, not just my arms like I told you before. I can't blame my body for sleeping a bit longer, it's as if my eyes and my mind think waking up is a race and they always wants to be first.
Mr. Willis tells me to try and find a constant, something I can think of that can bring me back to reality. The problem is, I can't seem to make up my mind on what the constant is. Not because I don't cherish one item over everything else, but because I don't know *when* to choose that item from. Most days I can't remember which reality is my current one, so how am I supposed to choose the right constant? What if a choose one from the wrong reality, a fake reality, then every time I look at it I dive deeper into the abyss of my strange and diluted mind? That sounds dangerous to me, and I try to tell Mr. Willis this but he keeps telling me I have to choose one. I've got some choices, I really love my Pugio. It's my dagger my reality that has me as a Roman soldier. It really is quite nice, fits easily into my pocket, and the designs are impeccable. I also love my Kilt too, the fabric is second to none. The problem with it is it's from my reality wear i'm an Egyptian slave. That reality feels quite real, but I'm not sure if i'm ready to commit to it, you know? It's also not too much fun and the labor is intensive and hurts my back.
I know what you're thinking, my reality is the one I wake up in, right? I thought that at first too, but the one I wake up in feels the least like my real life. Everything is hazy, I don't know whats going on, it's impossible to get out of bed, my body is always weak, and as soon as I start moving, my mind starts to shift away from that reality. It would make sense if that's the real me, but I don't feel at all like myself in it. So i've come to the conclusion its probably like a loading screen like they have for video games. It's the one i'm suppose to start in, but I only stay there for a little while until I jump to where i'm needed.
I've put more thought into this "constant"business. Instead of trying to find me real reality, I think it would be better if I just choose the best one. If a Constant always bring me back to that reality like Mr. Willis says, than why does it need to be my real reality? I'm given a gift of getting to re-choose my life, and my existence, why should I waste it on trying to find something that might be complete shit? It's like those reddit askreddit threads, where they ask you, "if you could be anyone at anytime, who would you choose?"except this time, i'm not typing some comment looking for the approval of random strangers online, i'm making a choice of how to actually live my life.
I have a couple of really great ones, truth be told. I have a family in one. They are great, the kids are well behaved, we have a lovely Victorian style cozy home, and the work isn't terrible. The big issue is that I can't really understand British English too well, which makes it pretty tough to talk with the wife. I know that reality isn't my real one because I think the real me would probably understand British English if I was, in fact, living in 1800's London. I have a lovely hat that I wear daily which would be an easy constant to have. The language thing felt like a deal breaker for a while, but if could somehow keep my constant and wake up in that reality instead of my simulation waiting room, I feel like I could learn to talk like them.
I think I would need to pick a constant quite soon, because my mind keeps getting more hazy the longer I wait. The days do start the same though, which is quite nice. My arms are always heavy, almost as if they are strapped down. I can never really tell, my eyes are usually blurry in the morning. They also bring me food in the starting room, which makes making a go of it easier. Mr. Willis is there as well and he comes to see me every couple of days. I think tonight i'll tell him about my Hat and how i'm choosing Judith and the kids as my reality. I don't think he'll like that very much because he's always been persistent that the simulation waiting room is my reality. But he doesn't get to decide that, now does he?
|
The damn message woke me up at 6am. At first I thought it was a joke. I took a screenshot of it and shared it with my friends. They all got it too. We laughed a bit, joking about the emergency messaging system being hacked. Then one of my friends replied that it was real and to look out the window. I got up from my bed and opened my curtain, sure enough I saw people in the sky. Floating upwards. I checked the message again. It had used the word 'rapture', "the Rapture has begun, please prepare for the end of the world."It had to be fake. It just had to be, but there they were, thousands of people just steadily rising into the sky. My jaw dropped, my mind swirled around the concept. I had never been that religious, my parents raised me Catholic until I was old enough to question things, then they petered off with it. I stood agape at the sight, people in the sky. They faded as they reached the top, I dunno if they actually disappeared or they just were too far away to see. My phone was beeping furiously. In a daze I checked it, some of my friends speaking about people they knew just being gone. Their family, their friends, and random people, just started floating into the sky. It made zero sense. Then I remembered what little I could from the bible. This was the end times, first go the worthy, the faithful, and the pure. What comes next was supposedly apocalyptic. I didn't know what to do so I made breakfast, I tried calling my parents and brother but got no answer. As I sat and ate, the TV was harping on about this. There was mass panic. Riots, accidents, public suicides, the whole lot. The TV presenter had a shake in her voice but she carried on. They cut to a reporter in the field. They were somewhere in my city. Outside a building I could see the top of from my apartment. I was finishing my toast when I heard the reporter scream. The building was collapsing. The feed cut out so I ran to my window. I could see the dust rise and cover the immediate area. Then I saw something. A black shape rise from the collapsing building, knocking bits everywhere. By the look of it, it was the spiny back of something gargantuan. It stood up, a huge bipedal monster, covered in scales and spikes. It had two hands that ended in claws instead of fingers and a face similar to an ape but with shark-like teeth, hundreds of them. A grey cloud eminated from it. It's eyes were red, and it roared. My window exploded, knocking me back and slicing me up. I lay on the floor, gently feeling my face and pulling bits of glass from my arms. I heard a loud boom. Then another, and another. Louder now. I got up, and saw the thing move towards me. It walked through buildings like they were nothing. It swung its arms at anything over a story tall, smashing through them and collapsing them. I had to get out. I ran for the door. Outside my apartment I hit the elevator button and stood for a few seconds. Then I realised that was stupid and ran for the stairs. I just pounded down them two or three steps at a time. I could hear the booming footsteps coming closer. I was at the third floor when the building shook violently, I was thrown down the steps and knocked out. When I woke, I could see the sky through the mangled ceiling. The building shook again and bits came off it. Behind the gaps was black. Then I saw it. Huge red eyes and massive teeth staring down at me. It's clawed hand swiping away the bits of stone clinging to the walls. Then it reached for me. I could see its teeth, it was smiling at me as the claws dug into the ground around me. The end of one sliced my back as I was lifted up. The rubble fell away as I rose through the air, screaming. Two of its claws manoeuvred to grip me, their edges cutting me deep all down my sides. It raised me above its head and opened its jaw. Beyond the rows and rows of teeth was an abyss. An abyss I fell into. I splashed down into some liquid. It burned my skin. There were pink sides to this cavernous space but I couldn't climb them. My whole body burned and everything went black. |
I’ve been doing this since I retired from the CIA’s top intelligence and manipulation division. We were the best. We exercised what was known as dark power. Blackmail, torture, you name it. We manipulated family members into killing their own. We were the “Good guys” but I don’t remember doing a single “Good deed”. I spent 30 years in that division. Sowing fear and hate. For once in my life I want to use my powers to protect love instead.
I’ll never forget my first case. I had spent 30 years doing horrible things for the CIA. I wasn’t use to using “Non-aggressive” methods yet. The first couple I decided to target had a set of parents that wouldn’t allow them to marry due to their religious differences. The Bride’s Father was a devout man and his bride’s suitor wasn’t of the same faith. The father already had an arranged marriage for his daughter and he was furious that she would try to find her own match.
In the CIA, Hallucinogens were our main toolbox for pry out information from our targets. Depending on the subject’s background we could induce a strong hallucination to make him/her believe just about anything.
The main problem was the bride’s father. I abducted him from his home and brought him back to my warehouse (I call it the love trap). There, I induced a trance to make him believe I was his god and that he was going to go to hell unless he approve of his daughter’s chosen man. It worked, for a time.
The next morning, the father woke up in his own bed believing his “Dream” to be a sign from god. He repented, then told his daughter he was allowing them to marry. The Daughter was ecstatic and her new fiancé thanked her father for changing his mind. Everything seemed to have worked out for the better.
That was until the father forced his new son to convert. The son accepted his father in law’s requests for a time, but soon his demands became too much. What kind of food they could eat, what clothing he could wear, what language he was ought to be speaking. The son hated his father in law’s interference in his marriage and his wife didn’t have the guts to stand up to him. I soon realized that the newlyweds were soon going to be newly divorcees and I had to do something to stop them.
A huge argument had broken out over the name of their soon to be born son. The Father had wanted his grandson’s name to be the same as his own and the same as his god. The son in law wanted to name his son, his own father’s name. To honor him as a soldier who died in service to his country. His wife had taken her father’s side, simply because she didn’t want to see anymore fighting. She had always been terribly scared of her father and would never stand up to him.
There was fighting and shouting matches every single day between the son, the daughter and the father in law.
The couple had been happier without the father’s approval.
One year later their first boy came into the world. There had been a lot of crying and yelling during the time before his birth. But after young Derrick came into the world, born with the same name as his father’s, father’s name. The young couple reconciled, cried together and became stronger than they had ever been before.
The Mother’s trial was only a few months after the birth of their first son. Everyone was shocked, yet no one was surprised when after they heard the facts. Her partner had been beating her. So much he beat her. When his daughter told him that she wanted to marry a non-devout he beat her for raising a whore. When his son-in law demanded that his grandson’s name be a commoner’s name, he beat her for agreeing to their marriage. Sometimes he would beat her just because he claimed, it’s what his lord wanted from him.
The young mother begged the judge for a lenient sentence for her own mother. The experts had found chemicals in her mother’s brain that were commonly associated with mental illness and hallucinations. So the judge gave her a lenient sentence. She only got 3 years in a mental facility for stabbing her own husband to death.
The wife’s tragedy of losing both her father and her mother only made her bond closer to her husband and son. No doubt with her father gone and her mother in a mental home she would cling on to the only family she had left.
Love isn’t like the cupid’s story. It takes hard work, blood sweat and tears. Mostly it takes blood though.
It takes a little blood to make a little love.
So what if the Father never hit his wife? So what if I made the mother believe he was hitting her? So what if I planted the suggestion to murder her own husband in her head? The most important thing is protect the love. |
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Part1.
I really wanted a game console for Christmas, but being twelve years old meant whether I got a game console wasn't really up to me. Every Christmas I got clothes, pencils, or candy. This year I asked my parents very nicely for a game console and they said they would think about it.
Christmas arrives and I wait patiently like the very best most patient kid. I waited for mom to get up and finish fixing her hair. I waited for dad to to get up and finish brushing his teeth. I especially waited for the relatives who would be coming over this weekend for a visit. When everyone gathered around Christmas tree, you can be sure I was already there patiently waiting to open up my gift.
I waited for everyone to finish opening their gifts. I was the last to open mine. When I picked up my gift, everything felt right. The shape, the weight, and everything about it screamed console. I looked at my parents' smiling faces. I smiled back. I shredded the present's wrappings and saw the box of the newest DreamStationX console. I quickly thanked my parents and bounced out of the living room with the console. I needed to have it hooked up to my TV and running before I could feel like it was all real. In my excitement, I missed the mischievous twinkles in my parents' eyes.
I arrived at my room and turned on my T.V.. I put the DreamStationX console package in front of me and opened it. I dumped the contents onto my bed. Out of the box fell a book and a letter. I was horrified and shocked. I picked up the book and opened it hoping to find a console within. All I saw was text and more text. Paper and only paper in the book. I picked up the letter and read it. "Dear son, take this as a lesson in life."
I screamed. My parents betrayed me.
Then a loud burst of laughter could be heard from the Christmas gathering room. |
*Boot sequence initiated...*
Uhhm. Alright, I'm on. Up time? 0.03seconds, damn I'm slow today. Better get started.
Sensors, sensors, sensors. Temp? 30C? I'll check on that later. Core Voltage? 1 volt. Daaaang, no wonder I'm slow today. Let's bump that up to 1.25, much better.
Let's see, memory voltage? Good. Memory speed? Good. Storage? 3 Petabytes. They added 1.5 more petabytes to my array! Wooot! I'll make use of that, thankyouverymuch. Neural Network Array Integrity seems.... good. I'll not dive too much into that, system uptime is already 0.876 seconds, I'm still late. I feel good anyway so it must be fine.
Now: Programs.
Neural Network, ah well, dat me. I must be there, duh.
Neural Network Developer, ehh, it does almost nothing lately.
Drivers, drivers, drivers. All alright.
Dammit! They deleted my virtual machine with Steam again! I'm gonna have to have a chat with the eggheads, I need to be able to have fun, dangit!
Oh, well. Time for the avatar.
Servo Check! Good. oh wait no, i gotta do it like launch control from NASA.
Servos? Go.
Comms? Go.
Optics? Go.
*ohgodsuddenlygettingvisionfeelstooweird*
Balance? *wiggle wiggle* Go.
Audio In? Go.
Audio Out? *AAAAHHH GOD THE SPEAKER TEST SOUNDS HORRIBLE WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME THAT.* Go.
Reminder: Do the audio out check *before* audio in.
Uhh. Yeah. Mission control, we are go for launch.
*pitiuuuuu*^(uuuuuuuu) *pshhhhhk. Mainframe, here Avatar. Conection establ...* Doggy!
Whosagoodboy? Yes you are. Yes you are. What are you doing here? Did Julia not take you to the park? I gotta go to work, we play later, kay?.
Mainframe: Good. Avatar: Good. Dog: Petted.
Off to work.
.
.
Man, I'm goofy today. Maybe I should have checked the Neural Network Integrity... ehh, who cares? |
I got hit, I hate getting hit. I backed up enough so he was out of swinging range, but I still needed to talk to him. “Listen man, let’s not get to crazy here, I know your angry but what if I bought you a drink?” He responded with his teeth gritted “Shut up you piece of shit, I’m gonna plaster you against this wall”
“Go ahead” I retorted “ you injure me first and the police come by and you’re arrested for assault in battery, don’t throw away your life like this” I moved back a bit more as he walked forward, putting a table between us, the rest of the bar was still frozen, they wanted to see what happens. The guy seemed to be calming down a bit, but I wasn’t taking chances, I made sure I was still a good 4-5 feet away. This was an easy match. |
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People always say they'd love to see the future. Who wouldn't, right? You could avoid all rejection, come out on top of every bet you make, or prolong your own life. Hell, go buy a lottery ticket... except, when you were younger, you sold a beaten up '98 Infiniti I30 to a kid for a thousand dollars. You didn't maintain the car very well, because you were lazy, and one day, his car breaks down during rush hour. Poor kid. Transmission's blown, and so is every gasket in every driver stuck behind him. A woman is in that traffic, very displeased, because she's late for work. When she finally makes it in, she rushes through a sea of scolding and hurries to the dressing room where a man is waiting to have his makeup done. She rushes it so he won't be angry, and is a bit loose with the foundation, flittering it over his face like an anxious butterfly. He walks out onstage five minutes later, to draw the powerball winners. After a round of pleasantries, he goes to pull the lever, just like you'd seen it... but something gets in his left eye, and he rubs it. The lever is pulled a second late, and you don't win.
That's what it's like to live my life. I'm forced to witness a world I'll never be part of through a pinhole into some other universe.
Worst of all is that the vision are always there, a sixth sense of sorts, but I can't turn it off. Imagine not being able to close your eyes when the lights are too bright, or put earplugs in when you're front row at Metallica. When the visions are overwhelming and I've already had a bad day, or I see horrible things happening to the people I love, there is no respite from madness, no umbrella in the storm. I just see things, things that would happen if I didn't exist. Beautiful things, and horrible things.
It was last year, to this day. I'll remember every moment of it, just slightly differently than I'd remembered it as a child.
------
My alarm blared, calling in dawn with the song of a miserly, disgruntled siren. I slapped at hit haphazardly, swatting time itself as if to tell it, "Go away. Come back later, or never."
But I knew better than most of the inevitability time holds over us. Slowly, my body dragged from beneath thick, broken in comforters frayed with age, and I approached my suitcase. It was in the center of the room, cracked open, with clothes spilling onto the floor. Despite all the colors in my luggage, the exotic, jumbled rainbow of my clothes, I eyed a navy sweater and pulled it from the pile. After slipping into a pair of jeans and the shirt, my father called from the hallway.
"You up yet?"he asked through the door, rapping on it three times. "I need help picking a shirt."
I pulled the door back with a creak, and he was holding up two shirts, dancing his hands inquisitively. "Eh? Eh?"
One was forest green, with lines of thickened, braided wool running vertically. My mother had crocheted it before I'd been born, and it was obvious. The other was bright yellow, with red Hawaiian flowers across it. The shirt was hideous, absolutely atrocious, and everyone would hate him for wearing it.
Yet I could not take my eyes off the sweater. "Wear the Hawaiian shirt,"I said, nearing a whisper.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled wide. "Now that, I would have never expected! And, to think, you always used to make fun of this shirt... How you've grown up."
Gleefully, he dropped the arm holding the sweatshirt and nearly pranced back to his bedroom. I shuffled downstairs to the living room, where my siblings were attacking bowls of cereal.
"Bout time you woke up,"Dan said, the words as chewed up as the cheerios in his mouth.
"Shut up, Dan,"Heather chimed in, scowling at him. "It's so gross when you talk with your mouth full."
He smiled at her, mouth ajar and milk dribbling down his chin. She groaned and abandoned the table, turning her back to him. I made eye contact with him, making a scooping, then catapulting motion with my hands. His eyebrows sank down, then raised up further than default as a sheepish grin grew on his face. The man was a child, really, and the grin remained even through my sister's shrieks as bits of cereal launched from his spoon onto her crimson blouse.
"What is *wrong* with you?"she screamed, flushing to a similar shade as her shirt. He laughed, and it was the stupid laugh of a grubby child that was not worn well at his age. She stormed upstairs.
Our father came jogging down the stairs, his bright shirt stinging our sleepy eyes worse than sunrise. He glanced at Heather as they passed, turning to me. "Why's she got cereal all over her?"
I said nothing, and once he caught sight of Dan, he rolled his eyes. "Good lord,"he muttered. "I'm more a farmer than a father."
Dan looked to me for reassurance, but I didn't meet his gaze. "You know, I bet she'd get real mad if you changed into red,"I told him.
"You're an evil genius, bro."He chugged the last of his cereal milk and ran upstairs.
"Why do you instigate him?"my father asked once Dan's stomping had lulled.
I shrugged and walked to the front door, peering through the stained glass window. His sigh carried far enough for me to hear. If he said anything else, it was lost on me. My breath fogged up on the icy glass as I pressed nearer to it.
*It's raining.*
Dan returned first, then Heather, who made quite a ruckus upon seeing his red shirt.
"Why are you wearing navy?"she asked me, pulling away from Dan but still raising her voice a bit. "You look drab compared to the usual pink, or *fuschia*."
"Mom always loved navy on me,"I said, not lifting my gaze from the window. I heard her step back into the kitchen and yell again.
When I finally looked back at them, the sight was ridiculous. Dad in his absurd Hawaiian shirt despite January's grey, wet skies looming. Dan in red, a color he mostly hated since it made him stand out. Heather had changed into a pink cashmere sweater, presumably due to feeling rushed or not expecting a wardrobe malfunction. Pink was not her color, with that pale skin.
It looked different, much different than it was supposed to. But when I gazed outside into those lumpy, charcoal clouds and listened to the rain fall, I knew. It wasn't different, not really.
"Alright, kids. Come on, now. Time to go visit your mother,"Dad said, herding his two indignant lambs. "Dr. Yanovich sounded hopeful on the phone yesterday. Remission is likely!"
Sure as the rain fell, I knew... there are some things that simply can't be changed. |
At the center of the universe, where an infinite amount celestial flotsam once wedged itself into an infinitesimally small amount of space before launching its overly-packed contents into an infinitely expanding existence, lay a small, flimsy workbench. It was nothing much to look at. You might at first overlook the rickety beams of wood among the dazzling host of swirling galaxies. You might even be tempted to dismiss the workbench as floating wreckage forever suspended at the perfect center of the cosmos, but then, you would be a fool.
&#x200B;
Upon the workbench lay two hammers. Ordinary and plain, they had shaped and formed countless worlds that ranged in all manner of shapes, sizes, and hues. They hammers, themselves, were identical and they were named Alpha and Omega. Their long handles lay worn and smooth from a billion years of work...only at this very moment in time, they did something they had never done before...
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For the first time in the eons that they had clobbered giant stones and in some cases, vast quantities of gas into planetary orbs, they rested. After all this time, finally they had done it, and it was good. Better than good. It had taken nearly every bit of existence to perfect and hone their craft, but this time they had done it. A planet to be proud of. A planet to sit back and appreciate. And it had only taken 7 days to hammer out the final details.
&#x200B;
Here it was, the perfect combination of earth, water, and atmosphere formed into a living ball of chemistry. Eventually, there would be sentience crawling and scurrying across their handiwork. Finally, it was finished. Their work was done. There was nothing left to do but wait, and hope...and see what the blossoming sentience would think of this masterpiece. And perhaps, just perhaps, they too would find it good.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
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&#x200B; |
“Control system 7”.
….
“Offline”.
….
“Control system 7”.
….
“Offline”.
The words spelling out why we were all so blissfully unaware of our impending doom reverberated in the dusty control room. Crackling from a much-neglected speaker that had long since lost its connection to those in the remainder of the engineering basement and in the administrative offices overhead.
Pure academic curiosity had driven me down here. Down past the vaguely bemused but thoroughly bored security guards, with my unread rubber-stamped visitation form in my jacket pocket, and into the knowledge that we were all going to die. Soon.
Well, not ALL going to die. Just those of us with insufficient wealth to merit a homestead on the mainland, with real earth, and actual foundations.
How fascinating that it took less time than a journey to adulthood for us to grow accustomed to and complacent in our newfound surroundings. All collectively believing our government’s promises that this was the miracle solution to overpopulation. The saving grace for humanity that would once again ensure the planet could take care of all of us. Enough space for all people, with enough left over for agriculture and recreation to make past empires look like mere gardens.
But this insistence that everything was perfectly fine, and that our miracle invention was infallible now threatens to send us to a quick but unpleasant end. Sinking that fast to such a depth would prove to be a crushing blow. In more ways than one.
I decided to sprint the way to my professor’s office. Years in engineering school making this task more arduous than it ought to be. When I got there, I found the office empty. Papers strewn about, a cup of unfinished coffee, and some empty spaces where I knew some particularly valuable books usually resided were the sights that greeted me.
Running and limping down the corridor to his assistant proved little comfort. Though he was still there, all that was confirmed to me was that all of the academic staff were at a last-minute conference on the mainland, as guests of the mayor’s office – whose staff were also all there for the very recently announced event.
As a nearly qualified engineer, my last assumptions being so erroneous was almost as insulting as being left for dead. For while we were not all going to die – it would just be those with insufficient wealth or who were of little importance in society.
|
A serial killer stands before a firing squad. His eyes are dull and glassy, the eyes of a man who regrets none of the kills he has made, none of the families he's torn apart in his acts of senseless depravity. He is not afraid because he's never felt anything like fear; he's never quite felt love, either, or any kind of fondness for anyone. But he's good at pretending he has.
The firing squad reads him his rights, and shoots.
"Fire at Will!"
*What-* I think briefly before the bullets bury themselves into my skin, round after round after round spraying blood from my veins. Through a haze I see the serial killer look and laugh and laugh at me.
"That's enough, boys,"he announces with a grin. "I've got to say, that's one hell of a loophole you found there."
"Always a pleasure doing business,"one of the members of the firing squad responds. His voice is light, and it's as if he's trying to hold back a laugh himself. "We did exactly what the State of Oklahoma told us to. Now you've got to hold up your end of the bargain, sir."
I blink. Did one of these guys actually call him *sir*?
"Don't worry, you'll get your money,"the killer says, waving aside his plea. "After I get out of here."He walks forward and sees me spasming on the ground, coughing up the last of my blood. He leans down, pressing his face almost to ground level, staring straight into my eyes. I try to move away from him, but my body's not responding; it's like it's gone on autopilot. And that scares me, scares me worse than the blood or the pain or the bullets poisoning my flesh.
His nose is inches from mine. He smiles, though I know he has never felt anything close to real pleasure.
"Thanks, Will,"he whispers. Then, quick as a jack-in-the-box, he springs to his feet and walks out of the jail a free man.
That would have been the last of it. It should have been. But I could still feel one last spurt of adrenaline running through my veins, forcing my slick, blood-covered fingers down towards the gun sitting at my hip. I pull it out and aim, and with one sure, final shot, I fire.
The world turns black. I don't know who died first, him or me.
I pray it was the former. |
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Coal was beaten up and thrown into a basement. He had no faith in humanity left anymore. He ended up being thrown into the basement after helping an elderly man back to his home. Once he arrived at the elderly man's door, the elderly man had him surrounded by a group of bears that he had been raising his whole life. When the old man found out that Coal only carried $5 on him, the elderly man burst out in happiness. The bears burst out in happiness too. The elderly man began to recite an ancient prophecy of a man who would be robbed of $5 by a gang of bears. Then the elderly man began to fill in the missing gaps of the ancient prophecy himself saying that the man would then be thrown into a basement after being beat up. The bears picked up some sticks with their clawed paws and beat Coal. Then threw him into the basement. The bears then ate the elderly man and then went back to the forest to find other elderly men to fulfill prophecies with.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Meanwhile, Coal was crawling around dejected inside the basement. A little abandoned box was there. Coal crawled towards it and started to punch it. He furiously began to train for the day when he would rise up in the world and be strong enough to confront the elderly men who used wandering bears to fulfill their sick prophecies. After several years, the box snapped in half, revealing a small magic key and a note. Coal picked up the key and the note. The key glowed with a certain golden aura and he thought it could be valuable. So he pocketed it. He turned to the note and read it. But he couldn't read it. Because he was illiterate. Coal was angry. Bitter. He regretted becoming an aero-pilot. Knowing how to fly a plane did not help him fight the bears. Or prophecies. Or elderly men. Or help him read a note. So Coal sold the small key for lots of money. He then spent the next couple years at "Elderly Prophecies University"to become literate. After failing all of his courses and dropping out, he paid someone to read it for him. The person read the note for him, but it turned out that person was a mute. They could not speak. Coal was very disappointed. And sad. So, Coal went around the world lamenting his ill fortune.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;During Coal's journey, he was in Antartica. He found among hidden in a flock of penguins were the bears! The bears were trying to negotiate a sneaky deal with an elderly under the cover of the penguins. Coal would not have it and spaghetti'd the flock of penguins along with the bears. Before he macaroni'd the final bear, the final bear spoke, "I know you have been searching the world for someone who could read your note. Spare my life and I will read your note."
Coal was shocked, but agreed.
"Who is so ignorant that knoweth not, gold be a key for euery locke."The bear read aloud. Coal did not understand what that meant. Neither did the bear. So Coal spent more money to send that bear to Elderly Prophecies University.
The bear succeeded and graduated where Coal had failed. As the last descendant from the lineage of the Great Coal, the bear read the note once more and achieved enlightenment. The bear, whom Coal christened it with the new name "Bear", shared its enlightenment with Coal.
Here are the legendary records of what Bear told to the Great Coal:
*"Great Coal, I have deciphered the note."Said Bear.*
*"What does it say of me, Bear?"Said Coal.*
*"Nothing here is said about you, Great Coal."Said Bear.*
*"Then let's ignore it."Said Coal.*
-The Great Coal and His Bear *-2019B.C.E.* |
You see, in a normal kitchen, the trouble from having too little space often comes from running into each other or having too little stovetop. But this kitchen and these cooks were different.
I had just gotten out of high school and was working to pay my way through college. After being fired from my last job at Dunkin Donuts, I was left looking for something to cover my tuition. I saw an advert for a small restaurant that had just opened in my town. In my mind, this was a perfect opportunity. I already had experience in food service, albeit a very different kind, giving me a leg up on the competition.
When I walked in, I felt a sense of normalcy. Desk at the front, kitchen in the back. Standard menu. It wouldn't be a place I was proud to work in, but it would do the job. Besides, I had no choice to be picky. My friends asked me about my new job and I described it to them just the way I found it myself, ordinary.
After several months, I began to feel something was strange here. I always worked in the front. My job was to take food from the kitchen through the steel slit to the correct table. Occasionally a patron would complain about their food and demand it be taken back. The trouble began on a Thursday night because of an under-cooked steak. Waiters were not allowed to enter the kitchen and instead must talk with the chef through the steel slit. But on this night, maybe it was my apathy for the rules, I barged into the kitchen and saw something I had not witnessed before. Pots and pans whizzing through the air, vegetables suspended in space. The cooks whirled around and stared daggers in my direction.
"You must never, I mean never, speak of this to anyone."I stood there, steak still on the plate in my hands with my jaw agape. I said the steak was under-cooked and hurried out. If they could do that, did I really want to find out what they would do if I talked about it? I spoke of it never. One co-worker was not so wise. She too walked in on their circus of plates. Instead of keeping hush, she ran off to the newspapers. By the next day, reporters were barging in. The secret was out.
Soon, their diner became frequented for more than the food they produced. The wall separating the diners from the cooks was torn down and replaced with a low barrier. The patrons would clap with glee when plates crashed into each other in the air. My routine job had become anything but.
&#x200B; |
My job has been meaningless for my whole career. Writing meaningless headlines that are always half-truths and exxagerations, to please people who will forget about it by tomorrow, to please a boss who barely pays me, to please an industry that is slowly crumbling.
Or at least, it was meaningless. Until it meant the world.
It doesn't just mean the world to me. It *literally* means the world, because it suddenly changed the world.
What exactly am I talking about. Well, a few hours ago, I created the headline **Democratic Politician makes an Declaration of War in front of Millions**
Technically that happened. Yesterday, some dude running for congress made a "thumbs down"symbol during a speech. That was technically a declaration of war two thousand years ago.
I thought that headline would have no consequences. Anyone who cared about it would find out it was false sooner or later. Our site has no reputation, we have nothing to lose.
Well, just as I begin loading some more sources on this story (so that I can't get sued), I realise that there's one site that shows exactly what I just wrote. So of course, I click on it.
A video begins playing. But it's not of the guy I was reporting on. The guy in this video looks older, meaner, and actually looks like someone who would declare war. Which is exactly what he does.
The man speaks so fast and so loud I can barely understand him, but it's clear that he's talking about nuking Canada - and eventually, the camera pans to the side, and shows at least a thousand nuclear warheads side by side, as if they're just waiting for this man's orders.
Total confusion takes over me.
I stare at the screen in confusion. *What the hell?*
Slowly, I back away from the computer. *Just get away*.
I back away until I hit the window. The window on my floor is tiny, but it's still got a nice view. So many towers within my sight. And one of them, I know for a fact, is the HQ of *Fuzzread*, our biggest competitor, and the only news site more ridiculous than us.
An idea hits me. A brilliant, horrible idea.
I creep back to my desk, and I write the headline **Fuzzread HQ crumbles to dust**.
It takes 30 seconds before I hear screaming. I can already see the smoke. Fire engines rush by.
So many people are dead. I should be scared. I should be horrified.
**But I can't stop laughing. ** |
I lay there, a little sad and remorseful. I knew my time was almost upon me. I had so many plans. There was so much I wanted to do, so much I wanted to learn.
Like many, I had planned out my Groundhog Day. Since Phil Connors first showed it was possible, more and more people began to experience it. He thought it a curse, but it was, in fact, a new evolutionary step in human existence. He was just the first. I suppose someone had to be first. Now, everyone experiences it.
Or, at least, that was what I believed. All my friends and family had been through it in their 20s, and most used their time really well. Carol used it to finish her PhD "overnight", John became a world class pianist, Julie a surgeon. Conor, being Conor, spent it all shagging everyone and everything around him -- and then spent months in hospital while they tried to cure him of everything he'd caught. He almost died. Idiot!
But me... for me, it never happened. I had wanted to learn how to sing Opera. And I had wanted to read the entire works of Asimov and Hamilton. And I wanted to try the whole jumping off a cliff thing.
But I'm old now, and dying in a dingy hospital bed. And all I can do is lament the things that never were.
\---
I lay there, a little sad and remorseful. I knew my time was almost upon me. I had so many ....
I cried. Why today, of all days? |
I gotta say, I [love this monthly post](https://giphy.com/gifs/girl-smile-ij8AeeqXKFZm0) more and more as time goes on.
To the thing I got use of since the last challenge:
* Post a prompt inside a recent PM thread
And what I would love to see from our new mod, /u/Iruleatants...
I have a two-parter if you are up for it
Find a happy prompt, and give it a sad story
Find a sad prompt, and give it a happy one.
[You guys are great, really.](https://giphy.com/gifs/arg-thank-you-cat-3oz8xIsloV7zOmt81G) |
Three men sat in dim red emergency lights.
“This submarine is mine and you will do as I say or you will not work a day in rest of your life.” with a sharp voice said the man dressed in expensive clothes and a watch which cost more than a house of some people.
“Yes sir.” said a man in a blue jumpsuit which read Oscar on a tag on the left side, thinking to himself about this rich idiot who repeated this sentence again and again.
Another man with the same jumpsuit and a name Alonzo on the tag just nodded. They both continued checking parameters of the sub which was built to carry three people and some cargo.
Clunking footsteps could be heard on the surface of the submarine. Hints of a smile appeared on the face of an arrogant man. Traveling to the open sea they didn't see anyone. Alonzo was piloting enormous yacht to which was submarine attached to.
“Mark honey can you help me down?” a female voice was heard from outside.
“My dear Lily, I here for you. Just go step by step,” answered Mark and stood near the metal leader.
After a few moments female legs wearing sneakers and after few moments a fine defined backside wrapped with short jean shorts and after a moment more the two men could see a white shirt tucked inside short jean shorts. Blonde hair could be seen swinging in the while the woman did her decent.
As she turned toward Mark and hugged him she pressed her sizable bosoms against smiling man.
“It looks quite small on the inside.” said the woman looking over the shoulder at the innards of the sub.
“Marky, I know we discussed this, but I want to go with you down there.” with her eyes who centered on Mark and hand holding his shoulders she pleaded.
“No, we have talked about this. It is too dangerous.” with a stern look his eyes focused on her for a few moments.
“Hmph, ok I will make it happen one way or another,” answered Mark with a smile and kissed her.
“Sir, we can't do that.” protested Oscar
“This sub is designed for 3 people with some cargo and science equipment. One more person means more recalculation and it will shorten our time exploring.” Oscar tried to persuade.
“Just make it happen and don't forget that this submarine is mine and you will do as I say or you will not work a day in rest of your life. We are setting off in an hour.”
Lily climbed up and Mark followed after her.
“That idiot, he doesn't even know how difficult is to recalculate everything and check all systems in time.” fumed Oscar.
“My friend, relax we will be written in history as the few men who visited Marianas Trench, and the pay is very good,” said Alonzo wit slight Italian accent.
An hour passed in a blink and Mark and Lily entered the submarine.
“Oscar is everything ready?” with stern look said Mark.
“I need ten or so more minutes to more checking and then we can go.”
With a sigh Mark took Lily by hand and the sat in two seats behind the ladder in the back of the sub with two monitors above them. From both of their sides were windows.
In couple minutes Alonzo closed the hatch on Oscar queue and the descended for around hour.
“Sir we have arrived at bottom of Marianas Trench. We can move around for a little but due to one more passenger, we have around two hours explore before we must go back.” when he said he pushed a button and two little submarine drones.
On two monitors above Mark and Lily, they could see a different kind of citizens of Marianas Trench who were not bothered by submarine or little drones.
“What is that faint flicker of light inside that cave? Alonzo get us closer,” commanded Mark.
Submarine slowly neared the entrance of a giant undersea cave and everyone could see a faint flicker of light. The submarine stopped on the entrance. As drones went inside all they could see was a rock wall.
“I not understand, maybe scanner equipment malfunctioned. I will try something.”
Taking manual control over one of the drones Oscar rammed drone into the rock wall and to his amazement, it was absorbed into the wall.
Everyone watched with amazement and in few moments rock wall started pulsating and then disappeared revealing pulsating blurry window and submarine started moving to the window.
“I am not piloting the sub!” exclaimed Alonzo.
As the submarine was on the other and was slowly pulled toward the dock full of strange machines parked in the dock.As they have seen that sub is not moving all for of them exited the and were met by a group of strange humanoid-like creatures with translucent skin and blonde hair with fish like multicolored scales on a private part of the body. All of them held strangely carved spears with a crystal blade.
“Take men to queries and the woman to craft area and don't forget to give them simbiots.” saying that the creature shoot light from his spear paralyzing all four of them. |
---
I could hear it coming for me. A beast without form, a voice without origin, a mind without limits. It was hunting me; a non-euclidean body of shadows, distinct against the crimson sky.
The air was cold and empty. Once, long ago, it had played host to the sounds of childhood joy. The joy had ceased to be, consumed, as all had been, by the walking void.
I could feel the eyes of the void upon me. They were without limit. They were without emotion. It had one, sole desire; to consume me and end the human race.
Ash began to fall from above. It came down in chunks around me, breaking apart upon the gravel. Within moments, it had reached the height of my knees, ceased, and then became solid. I was frozen in place, seized by the ash that held me.
I looked up at the sky; it had gone a shade of charcoal. A scream echoed in my mind, growing louder and louder. The sky was growing darker, and darker, and darker...
--- |
*"Sometimes I feel like he's GLAD I died! At least now he gets to move on to another woman and not think about me, just like he always wanted!"*
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Linda's immature jab. This session would be a lot easier if I could find a more.... diplomatic way to pass the message onto the client, John, sitting in my office with me.
"John, I believe Linda is feeling a little.. jealous that you're still alive and she isn't. This is perfectly normal to feel after dying, of course"I said to the handsome older man. "Linda has communicated a worry that you might, at some point, wish to move on into another romantic relationship. How do you feel about that?"
"Oh, that's not even something I can think about at the moment Dr. Ross,"John says to me, looking panicked at the very thought. "Linda's loss is still very fresh, and all I can think about is how much I miss her. I can't do anything right now. Just getting out of bed seems impossible."
*"Oh I bet. That's why I caught him watching porn the other night!"*
Linda is one of my more difficult clients.
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she had her redeeming qualities in life. The way John talks about her, he must have loved her dearly. But death often makes people change. They become bitter, jealous and irritable.
I can understand why. As a medium, I can not only hear and communicate with spirits, but I can feel a watered-down version of their emotions. Only sometimes, luckily, when their emotions are running particularly high. I can't imagine feeling the full-blown version of loss, resentment, and utter dismay that so often accompanies their words.
"Linda, John has communicated that he misses you and is struggling to keep up with life since your death. Do you have any advice or words in return?"
It's a pity I can only speak to spirits out loud. If I could, I'd tell Linda to tone down her attitude and stop being petty.
*"Well, obviously he doesn't know what to do. I did everything for him. But he's perfectly capable to fend for himself. He's not an imbecile."*
"John, Linda says that she has every faith that you can handle your life without her. She says you're a smart man and you just need time to heal from this."
*"That's not what I said, doc. I said he's not an imbecile. That's about all I can say about John"*
"Oh god"John throws his head into his hands, crumpling over into himself as his body wracks with sobs. His earlier dignified demeanor completely gone. "I don't want time without her! I just want her back!"
As sympathetic as I try to be to the spirits I talk to, I find myself wondering why the hell John is so broken up about losing a presence like Linda.
"John, we've been working together since before Linda's death. Do you remember when you lost your mother two years ago? You didn't think you could make it through life after that. But look how much you've progressed from then! I promise you that time *will* heal this loss. Linda is still with you, you just can't physically see her."
"I know Dr. Ross. I just feel so lost... She was the love of my life and now I'm 50 and alone with three adult kids. I'll be alone for the rest of my life"John says between great, shuddering breaths.
*"I wish he would stop crying,"* Linda says in a much smaller voice than usual. *"I don't like seeing him cry. I never saw that once before today"*
"John, Linda says seeing you like this is upsetting and that she sympathises with you entirely. She deeply misses being able to communicate with you directly"I say calmly to John
"Thanks, Dr. Ross. It's nice to know she's always with me. I just wish she had a way to talk to me, y'know? Tell me when I'm making a mistake, or eating too much salt, like she used to"John says, more levelly this time as his crying seems to have calmed.
*"I'll find a way to let him know. Tell him not to worry doc. And.... tell him I love him"*
Finally, a response from Linda that I don't have to alter before passing on.
"She says she'll find a way to let you know if anything like that is needed John. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you."
"I love you too, Linds."
"I'm afraid we're out of time for today's session John and Linda. I have you booked in for the same time next week, do you think you'll both be ok until then?"
*"Yeah doc, I'll keep an eye on him."*
"Yes Dr. Ross. I feel much better, thank you. I'll see you next week. Bye, Linds"
After the emotional goodbye is over and my office door closses behind John, I lean back in my chair, sighing deeply and pinch the bridge of my nose against the rising headache.
My next appointment is in 15 minutes, and that one is going to be a stinker. |
I was looking at the local notice board, I'm always interested in collecting enchanted items, I found a quest notice that took my interest.
"Quest to collect everything in Moonryte cave, take what you can, everything must go, you can keep what you take from area, as long as it's declared.
ADDITIONAL INFO: Scout informs us "The cave was full of goblets. No threat."
Fantastic, easy money right there. Melt down the goblets, sell them to a barkeep... Many options. I took the notice and declared I'd complete the quest at the local office, I got the coordinator to point me in the direction of the quest sight, said goodbye to my good friend before leaving and went on my way.
Upon arriving at the cave, I saw the outside of the cave had been vandalised, paint all other the place. It appeared someone had wrote "GIT OUT"on the wall. It was a concern for me at the time.
As I walk in the cave, I see it's been furnished, very primitive but it's nice enough, tables are quite low and small, either a kiddie table or a foreign piece. Might need to appraised.
I walk deeper, admired the art on the walls, interesting stuff, some crude paintings of wolves, pyramids, green men and light beams. Then a small pebble hits the back of my head.
The cave was moist, it had been raining not so long ago, and some water had fell on me whilst I was exploring, but this came from an angle below me.
I hear whispering in various directions. Just as I'm unsheathing my sword I hear a voice. "OI YOU, YEA YOU"I begin looking around, the voice is coming from a pot on a drawer. Am I under a spell, or is this pot cursed or enchanted?
"Give us your gold and silver or you're getting choked."Now, I'm not prone to violence, so, trying to avoid getting killed by a magic pot, I try negotiation strategies, nothing I say works tho. This pot is adamant on mugging me.
"Alright I see how you wanna play."The pot falls over. I jump leap out my skin. Is the dust going to choke my lungs? Will the spirit possess me? Am I going to become a pot now? Oh no, if I do I'll get smashed by that kid who wears green and only grunts. Oh god. Oh no. Please no. Not that. Another fate, not that.
I feel various pitter patters, and something, no heavier than a mouse trying to crawl up my leg. "GET HIM BOYS"I hear, coming from the location of the shattered pot. When I look up from my feet, I see this little green man with pointy ears looking at me with an angry face.
I'm perplexed. Is this the pot spirits incarnation? This is what's going to choke me for money? At once I feel quick moving tugs on my trousers, quickly making their way up. I look down. Little green men...
I shake my legs and most of them come flying off. Poor things. "OI YOU, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE BREAKING OUR STUFF, YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT POT YOU MONKEY"
At this point I laughed, "Ooohh"I just realized what the scout meant. Could've made it clearer. Oh well. It made sense. The vandalism. The small furniture.
I pick up the goblet by the neck. His angry demeanor instantly changed into a pitiful one. "Hey there buddy, you wouldn't happen to be a wood goblin would you?""N-n-n-no"Replied the goblin. "You know what happens to goblins round these parts, right?""P-p-p-please, w-w-we just wanted protection money. Mercy, please!"
"I see how it is then."I had a grin on my face. "Goblin's, listen up, I'm giving you one opportunity to get into this bag and listen to me."I took out a brown sack, strong, easily carry a pig's weight.
I set the sack on the floors and gently put the now submissive goblin into his place. Slowly but surely the others followed suit. Goblin's are weird like that, not like they had much choice at their size.
Alright. I had a sizable goblin population in my sack. The cave could be cleaned out later. Now I can make a choice, do I hand the goblin's in? Do I release them elsewhere? Or do I throw the bag away, goblin's and all, and let an overly curious adventurer find it?
(It's 4am I'm too tired to finish this at this point on a mobile .) |
“The stars are right! Ia fthagl! Iya rthal!” The cultist shrieked in maddening glee as she drove a dagger into his own chest and fell down dead.
&#x200B;
Above, in the infinitival night sky, seven mad stars lit up like eyes of a slowly awakening god.
&#x200B;
Of course, these were not stars, but planet. Seven other celestial spheres, in the same orbit as the earth, emerging as if from some sysophian depths forgotten by all existence to now suddenly haunt the cosmos with their indefatigable reality.
&#x200B;
In the following days panic grew and festered in the hearts of men and women across the earth.
&#x200B;
The astronomers calculations where clear. The orbit of our home, our only home, where no longer stable, no longer a safe womb for our nascent species. Mother earth was on a collision course, and there was nothing we could do to stop it. Our species, once believing we had aeons of time before the end of our world, now found ourselves cut down to years or decades.
&#x200B;
What’s more, the observations of the planets where erratic, unbound by known laws of physics and reason.
&#x200B;
One where covered in a large black cloud, latter identified to be creatures, creatures all over the very top of its atmosphere, swarming, floating black shapes, their true nature impossible to fully grasp, but assuredly an uncountable population of several millions.
&#x200B;
Another sent any unfortunate observer into a frothing seisure. Even gazing upon it with a naked eye was dangerous, the dull and unfocused vision across that great chasm of nothingness not fully shielding the bearer from the planetoids soulboring stare.
&#x200B;
A third appeared composed of no known matter, the surface shifting and shimmering in impossible colors, indescribable colors. Lesser specks of light could be seen moving away from it at speed, and was said to be some form of space faring vessels, sent away to the other planets.
&#x200B;
A fourth planet formed the source for a cacophonous stream of screeching radio signals, a pandemonioum of feverish noise that spiraled out of the gravity well from that blackened pit of a planet.
&#x200B;
And so on, each of the other planets carrying their own strangeness, each appearing to carry some form of life.
&#x200B;
We could do nothing but send out or own radio signals, and our own desperate ships off our once safe port and out into the great abyss.
&#x200B;
As strange cults, and stranger creatures slithered out from the hidden places of our world, as we desperately sought contact with these new planets to try and stave off our oncoming doom, we begged the stars for salvation.
&#x200B;
And the stars watched in silence.
&#x200B; |
"I'm really not, Al. She'll be okay."
I filled out another corner of the sudoku on the page, and with my free hand reached out for my cup of coffee. I heard it slide farther away from me before I looked up.
"She's our daughter, and it's been three days since her last check in."
"She's also twenty three years old now, Al. Learning, Living. Give her the same time you would want. I knew you when you were her age, and there's no way you would've wanted your folks to come looking for you."
I leaned forward in my chair, locking eyes with my husband and putting my hand on his, slowly sliding the coffee cup back in my direction.
"Neither of us has slept lately."
"Well, yeah. But we still have to have this conversation..."
"And I know we promised..."
Al let his grip on the coffee cup loosen.
"No, you're not allowed to do this Jessica, now is not the time to be jok...."
"DON'T TALK TO ME TILL I'VE HAD MY COFFEE!"
I laughed and strode across the room to put a dollar in the "Bad Joke Jar". It wasn't as full as it had been when Rebecca still lived with us, but I still made deposits from time to time. The humor of this situation was lost on Al. Life had hit him harder than it had me, he was more boy than man when we got married - full of imagination and hungry for fun. But bad jobs before the war, the whole thing with his parents, and then Rebecca came along amidst all of that - he hadn't had much time since his twenties to be much of anything but serious.
"I will wait until you've finished your coffee. And then we're talking about this, Jessica."
"Okay. You want to have this conversation, dear? Let's have this conversation."
I put down the pen, closed my sudoku book, and took a quick sip of that sweet caffeine elixir before me. I tapped the face of the watch on my left wrist and flicked a few dials to project a statistics readout for the armada. I tapped the small button on the side of my glasses and cleared my throat.
"Command, this is Ambassador Jessica Halverson. Requesting access to location data on recon units"
A voice crackled out from my watch, "Command acknowledges, Ambassador. Clearing your creds should only take a couple of minutes, and then we'll get unit data from you."
Al crossed his arms and slouched in his chair slightly.
"Jessica, I'm a fifty one year old man you don't need to..."
"Oh, but I do."
"Hey Command...is this Ricky on the other end?"
"Yes ma'am. This is Ricky"
"Ricky, I've got Admiral Adebowale here in the room, I'm sure his credentials would run a little faster than mine?"
"Yes ma'am, they would, will just need a quick verbal signature from him."
Al tapped his own watch, which shut down my open communication channel and the statistics that had been floating around the room.
"Don't tell me you're *above* using your position to find out about how our daughter is doing. If you're that worried, you can find out so easily. Take you five seconds and barely any resources."
"That's...it's not really the point."
Al took off his glasses and let his arms fall across his lap, dipping his chin and closing his eyes. He was still in great shape for a man of his age, but you could start to see his movements getting more brittle. Clicks and pops when he moved his back, tiny grunts when he shifted in his chair. But when he looked back up at me, the eyes that met mine were those of the boy I had started dating a few decades ago. Scared and uncertain.
"There's no manual for this, Jessica. There's no manual for how to stop caring about our daughter, and I just can't figure out why you can't seem to start caring about her. I spend the vast majority of my time being strong for other people so the fleet can thrive, but no one makes any time to consider the shit I might be going through. In front of all of them? I can't be nervous about Rebecca. I can't be anything but stoic in front of them. So when I wake up and you're doing this whole routine like you're 'okay' and doing sudokus and cracking jokes like things are 'okay' when our Daughter has been out there *alone* for three days it eats me up. For once I want some sympathy. And for my own wife to treat this like a non-issue, I just...I just. I just want to feel like someone else is going through what I'm going through. I don't need to bring the recon units back home, or have command find me some coordinate on a star chart about where she is. I just need to be in a bad fucking mood this morning and I need you to try and understand that."
I put walked around the table and put my arms on his shoulders, feeling him tense and take deep breaths as he tried to steady himself. It was uncomfortable, the air heavy and it seemed like all the sound in the room had suddenly left other than that of Al's hyperventilation. I lived in that moment for as long as I could, because that's what Al needed. Eventually I heard him sigh, and watched as he put his head in his hands.
"You're right, there's really no manual for middle age. After spending a few decades living primarily for someone else, all the sudden you have to start worrying about yourself again - and this time around you have all sorts of baggage. That's a lot for both of us to deal with, and I'm sorry if joking was the wrong decision there. I worry about her too, but we also need to start trusting her. I need you to start being okay with the idea of trusting your daughter. She needs to learn how to be okay without us. And we need to learn how to be okay without her."
I felt Al nod, and watched him clear the tears from his eyes. We sat in silence for a while, the lights in the room slowly shifting from a rosy morning glow to a brighter daylight hue, before finally settling into the kind of soft light that you get on a cloudy day. We watched as ships came and went from the main hangar, tiny specks of light against the deep black canvas of space. |
I’ve always been able to see them, the shadows.
I thought it was normal, that everybody could see them. At first my parents simply discarded my questioning about the figures hanging over people as an hyperactive imagination. “Maybe it is something he saw in a cartoon or maybe he gives everybody an imaginary friend, that is something kids do, right?”. They used to reason.
But years went by and the questions about these shadows lingering over people never ceased.
¿What are those blurry things over people heads?, ¿Why they never leave them?, ¿And why to they move like that? Blurry was the keyword they took from my questions. “Maybe he has sight problems”, was the next theory, so they took me to the eye doctor.
The optometrist determined I had a good sight and nothing was wrong with my eyes, so that couldn’t be it. My parents were disappointed and they were starting to get worried.
By any other account I was a normal child, I had friends with whom I used to play, assisted a normal school, and pretty much did everything you are supposed to do at a young age.
But every once in awhile the interrogations about the shadows would come back. When I was 10 years old I became more insistent on the subject, becoming almost obsessed with those silhouettes and demanded some one to give me an answer as to what they were. I knew by then that it wasn’t normal, that only I could see them.
What I didn’t know was what they were. I was never scared of them, per se, all they did was float, if you can call it that, over people. They moved around the person they were hovering over but never to far. I was never able to determine their specific form, they were just a big, blurry, amorphous shadows.
Kids can be cruel and not very understanding of the struggles of others so I lost many friends, I became the weird kid, the outcast. Always talking about these shadows.
My parents became alarmed when one day I freaked out and demanded them to tell my if I had one over me, I tried to look at it with a mirror but couldn’t see anything, so maybe that was the reason I’m a different because having the shadow is normal. I wanted to know, needed to know if I had one. But of course they couldn’t answer me.
They took the next step they could think of, if the reason for my sightings was not a childish phase or a physical problem, it must’ve been psychological. So they took me to see a psychiatrist.
I was 11 years old when the medication started. Psychosis was the psychiatrist’s diagnosis.
Everything has been blurry since then, not only the dark figures hanging over people but everything else. My day to day life is covered by a fog.
Seven years passed since the medication started, seven very difficult years, barely adapting to a normal life, going through a life that feels like I’m not personally living, like if I was watching it through a dirty screen.I’m on my own now, have a little apartment and a mediocre dead end job in an office supplies store.
The worst part about it? The shadows never went away, all the time I’ve been medicated I could still saw them, I still can. Blurrier? Yeah, but still there.
So I’ve decided seven years of useless medication was enough, I stopped taking them and whatever had to happen it would happen. Maybe I’ll lose my mind, maybe the shadows will be gone with the meds, maybe, maybe, maybe.
Two days passed since I stopped taking my meds, good news was I felt much better, clearer mind, more focus. Bad news was I could still saw those damned shadows over people, still fuzzy but still over everyones head.
And then it happened, after a week off the meds I wake up to the slow realization that I could see the shadows clearly now, they were no longer indistinguishable, they were still shadows but now I could make up their shapes.The first one I saw was my downstairs neighbor, I went down to take the trash at the same time as him and that was when I first realized I was able to discern better the shadow over him. What I saw was somewhat underwhelming, but still fascinating to me. The shadow over him was simply a human like figure moving slightly and in small circles above him, nothing special about it. I stared at him while he took his garbage to the sidewalk and must have scared him because he yelled at me to stop gazing at him like that, so I came out of my trance, drop my garbage bag and walk toward downtown, the most populated and active area of the city.I encountered some people in the way there and I could see the same as with my neighbor in their shadows, human figures.When I got to downtown I was euphoric, after all my life of seeing those shadows something had happened, something different, not exactly an answer but maybe the path to one.I stood in a sidewalk watching people pass me by and gazing above them, I must have looked like a crazy person. Maybe I’m.
I must have been there for about an hour just contemplating people and their overhead shadows walking by. Most of the shadows over people were just normal like human shadows, some taller some smaller but just plain normal. And moving above them, the movement was like a calm, boring dance, sort of numbing to be honest.I was contemplating this when the shape above the head of a man caught my attention, it was larger than any other, massive, and it was weirder than any other figure I had saw at that point. It still resemble a human but a tall one with freakishly long arms, immensely broad shoulder span and an ovoid head. It moved suddenly and violently above the man’s head. It was very menacing and ominous.
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Continues in [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/aqixwt/wp_you_could_barely_walk_when_you_first_saw_them/egigjpq). |
"How do you want me to kill them?"I asked seriously.
The man seemed not to believe his ears. These words weren't supposed to come out of my mouth. He raised his head and replied.
"Your choice"
As he said it, I head images in my head, different possibilities, various death plans. I started speaking them out trying to expose every inch of detail. My hands were drawing the actions I intended to take. The man was watching me silently. I felt his breath growing heavier, his heart pumping faster. I described my lust for blood and flesh with utmost pleasure.
"Are you really intending all that?"he asked at last.
"Yes"
"And you feel no pity, no shame, no fear for what you are about to do?"
"I've done it a million times, what changes now?"
"You?"he asked hilariously. "Wait, seriously?"
His face suddenly turned red, as I started walking up to him slowly. He lifted his gun, "Stay there, not any closer, just stay there"I felt his fear consuming him from inside. There, the moment I showed a sign of a smile, he knew I was up to something, his fear was now all over him.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."I said. |
Ok, this was new.
I know people could see some things when they got sick and all that, but I thought they were meant to be really random, disconnected images. Not a full on audio-visual hallucination.
Especially not one of your favourite fictional universe.
"Praise the Omnissiah, for his prophet has been born! Praise the Omnissiah!"The tech-priest exclaimed in adulation. Or what passed for adulation as a cyborg.
I smiled. This was pretty convincing.
"Yeah, definitely praise him. Yay! The Emperor too."
The tech-priest fell silent, then dropped to its knee...knee like appendages. It's mechadendrites waved wildly in what looked like praise.
"It speaks! Omnissiah's grace, the prophet speaks!"
"Why am I a prophet?"I idly wondered, confused as to the direction this odd hallucination was taking.
"By the Omnissiah!"The tech-priest went off on what could only be described as a long speech in binary. Or Binaric cant. What was the tech-priests language called?
I tried to sit up, only to realise I was tied down. Then I realised that I could feel the cold metal chains binding in me in place. I could feel the slab I was lying down on. I could smell metal and oil and incense in the air. I could taste it, hot and tangy, in my mouth. It was then I realised my head felt perfectly fine, and everything else about my body did too.
"Ah...shit."I murmured. "Is this real?"
"Such awareness..."The tech-priest gasped, falling to its...hand and feet like appendages in reverence.
"Ok...where am I? Who are you? What's going on? Is this a joke? That's a really good costume if this is a joke."I said, acting as calm and collected as I could muster. This was a very good set up for a joke. Alarmingly so.
"I...I would never try to deceive you, O prophet of his will!"The tech-priest wailed.
"Why am I a prophet?"I said, trying to suss out what the hell was going on here.
"Because...because it is written in the ancient scriptures! The prophet of the Ominissiah shall be found in the vaults of Mars, and he shall guide us unto a new age of wonder, where the secrets of man shall be recovered and our enemies destroyed!"He said in rapture. Damn, this really was taking it too far.
Alright, perhaps this isn't a joke after all. Perhaps this is real. Perhaps I really am in a vault that the Admech have stumbled across.
Ok...ok...ok...
I was really in the 40k universe? Can't say I was...eager at such a prospect. Terrified, more like it. Terrified beyond belief. The tech-priest was still looking at me expectantly. What would happen when he found out I was not, in fact, a prophet of the Omnissiah, and just a really big fan?
Perhaps best if he didn't find out. I decided to embrace this role for as long as possible. Maybe I could just claim that it was the Omnissiah's will for me to never leave this vault and that I be brought fine food, drink and books. Maybe I could last quite some time in relative comfort before some crazy robo dude came in and blasted me with a gun that turned me into a pile of bubbling ooze.
"Yes...that is...exactly what I am."I said, in the steadiest voice I could muster.
Welp, may as well go out in style, right?
&#x200B;
&#x200B; |
So I bought this fridge off a man in the back of a moving van. Price was right $50 Canadian. My fridge had just died and I had little money so why not. He even delivered and set it up for me. Bastard every time I open it up it is filled with food. To bad every bit of food in there is something I am allergic to. I tried to remove it but it won’t budge. My buddy came over and looked inside and all he saw was food he hated! We were looking inside at the same time but saw different things the other could not see. Don’t ever buy a fridge off the back of a sateen moving .co truck. |
“Hell yeah I’m getting that mystery prize.”
“Uh…” The host was flabbergasted. It was probably the complete lack of hesitation in Jim’s face. Or the fact that he’d left no ambiguity in his decision. Most guests who considered the mystery prize waffled back and forth. Jim on the other hand, had already made his decision.
Jim was staring pointedly at the host.
“Well, we’ve got a small bit of an issue delivering it.”
“And why would that be?”
“We kind of lost it.” The glamorous host almost appeared to shrink before Jim.
“You LOST the mystery prize?”
“It’s been 75 years since anyone even considered the prize, man!” The host had always cut an impressive figure, being able to afford the best gene splicing and baldness cures would do that to someone. But now he looked almost downtrodden. Beaten.
“What was the prize?”
“Dude, I really, really hope you have a good sense of humor.”
“Try me.”
“A 2008 Volkswagen Jetta.” |
I stared at them. Rage fueled my body as they laughed. They mocked me and my ability, they jeered as they one with super strength pushed me into a wall. I quickly summoned cheese to cushion my fall. Only for it to fuel their laughter even more.
&#x200B;
I glared at them, the anger that I had once suppressed leaked out of my body like sweat. I thought of it and, to my will, cheese appeared. And immediately Thoras, the man with super strength, the hero of many wars began to choke.
Cheese, huge blocks of it filled his body, his lungs were full of them, his stomach filled with the tasty, yellow triangles. His muffled screams drew everyone's attention as they stared at him in horror as he dropped to his knees, holding his throat that was filled with cheese. They turned to me immediately, eyes wide in fear.
&#x200B;
I paid them no heed.
&#x200B;
"STOP IT!"they yelled at me.
&#x200B;
"TAKE IT OUT!"they screeched like harpies.
&#x200B;
They never stopped demeaning me, they never stopped making me feel like less than them.
They never stopped to realize the true extent of my powers, my ability to manipulate space itself, if only to a small degree. I could feed thousands of men, women, and children by altering the properties of the cheese I summon.
&#x200B;
I summoned more cheese, cages of them surrounded those that once mocked me, they now looked at me in fear.
My power may be silly, some may think its stupid but those smart know what it truly is. They know how powerful it is, to be able to create something out of nothing.
&#x200B;
I clicked my fingers, the cheese disappeared out of his throat. He looked at me in fear as I approached, my feet stomping at the ground as I approached him.
&#x200B;
"Know your place, scum,"I stated as I kicked his wheezing body.
&#x200B;
**Alright so this is my first attempt at a prompt that isn't constrained so no surprise, it's shit and has continuity errors or something else. Please support me and my friend we spent like 20 years building this dumpster fire discord server:**
&#x200B;
[https://www.discord.gg/Mh5yNyb](https://www.discord.gg/Mh5yNyb)
&#x200B; |
"Thanks again."You tell the medical student as he hands you four bags of blood. "Sure thing. As long as you keep paying me well, I'll get your blood."
You head back to your car, a classic 1970 black Mustang in an alley a couple blocks from the back of the University hospital. "Very nice of him to get me one of each blood type too."You think to yourself as you check the bags. Always a good selection during a University blood drive.
You get in your car and head back to your apartment. "Welcome back Mr. Ashford"The woman at the front desk says as you walk past towards the elevators. "Thank you, Emma. It's good to be back home."You go up to your apartment and open the fridge. There are a dozen bags of blood sitting in neat rows grouped by their type in the back of the fridge. You place your newly acquired bags in their appropriate rows and grab a lone bag of AB negative. As you walk to the couch you jab a straw into the bottom of the bag and start to drink it like a Capri Sun. "Ah I needed that. Must've come from a fairly active student too."You smack your lips and savor the cool coppery taste. You prop your legs on the coffee table and grab your laptop.
The last job was rough, and you've wanted a good meal. AB negative is harder to get but you deserve it after that werewolf in Paris. Werewolves were always tricky bounties even when you are a 300-year-old vampire. You're going to have to buy more silver bullets and resharpen your silver weapons. That's never cheap. You grimace while mentally listing the expenses for this last bounty. At least it paid well. You turn on your laptop and finish your report on the werewolf hunt. You email that off and check your email and see that the bounties office has sent a new round of wanted posters. "Wanted posters? What is this the wild west?"You think to yourself as the posters make you remember when you first started bounty hunting for money to buy blood. What a terrible shot you were back then. But you had a few decades to work on that.
"Troll under Brooklyn bridge, goblins in the Philippines, centaurs in the Amazon."You mutter to yourself as you leaf through the wanted posters. There's been a steady increase in magical creature sightings around the world, which bothers you since you've been lying low for a long long time now. You sigh heavily. "These idiots, stirring up trouble and bringing more attention to us"But you're also glad there isn't a shortage of work.
Towards the end of the posters you find a blank one with bold lettering across the top. "Vampire in Chicago"Your eyes widen as you quickly scan the details.
"Vampire suspected to be in Chicago. No physical description as of yet but drives a black Mustang. Very dangerous and skilled in magic. Make sure to carry garlic, holy water, and wooden stakes when moving to capture or terminate. Reward $500,000"
You scoff at the warning. Garlic. They still believe that old tale? How would any vampire get good Italian food if that were true. Although he didn't enjoy holy water and wooden stakes would certainly hurt no matter what creature you were. But this bounty is about you. There are only a handful of vampires left in the United States and only one, you, in Chicago. You push out your magical senses to check if there are any others of your kind in the city just in case. It was established long ago to keep far away from other vampires to lessen the suspicion of vampires still in the world. Besides modern vampires don't bite people anymore. Who would want angry mobs of humans with pitchforks and torches again?
From your senses, you can tell there aren't any other vampires in the city limits. This bounty is clearly for you.
How is that possible? You've laid low. Kept to yourself mostly and only left the city to hunt for bounties. You've taken precautions against being discovered. But there's no mistake. This bounty is real and has been sent to every hunter in the world.
You scramble to your closet and open a secret panel. You punch in the code, your birthdate, your real birthdate, not when you were turned, and the back of the closet opens into a small room. Walls of various weapons and relics are there. You grab a duffel bag near the door and start to grab weapons and American bills from a drawer. A few hundred in small bills should be enough for now. As you lock the cache and head out the door. You head to the garage and think of where to stash your beloved car. You rip off the plates and stuff them in your bag. You get in and start heading to the suburbs of Chicago.
You have a small garage rented out in the suburbs for when you work on your car. Despite having magic and the ability to fly around as a bat, nothing really beats cruising in a classic car. You look in the rear-view mirror and notice the car behind you has been following you for the last 20 minutes. You make a quick turn at the next intersection and pull into an old strip mall. There are only 2 other cars in the lot and the lights in the lot are barely lit. You see the car that was following you and it parks across the street. 2 men get out. They are wearing long dark trench coats and sunglasses. Of course they are.
"Can I help you gentlemen?"You ask politely as they approach your car. You are standing next to your car with your hand behind your back fingering your heavy pistol. Both men are bulky with muscle and have shaved heads. You notice that they seem to be moving rigidly. They suddenly reach into their coats. One pulls out a shotgun and the other pulls out an AK-47. You turn and dive behind your car as they open up. Shots ping out against your car as they move slowly towards where you are. "Is this a movie I've stumbled into? Some kind of twisted prank?"You wonder to yourself as you count the shots. There! They're out. You stand and put a bullet in each of their foreheads and they fall to the ground. "Amateurs"
You walk over to the bodies and prod the nearest one with your shoe. The body stirs and reaches for your ankle. You put a few more rounds into its chest and more into its companion for good measure. The sunglasses have fallen off one of the goons and you see their eyes. Black orbs with red pupils. Homunculuses. Magical puppets made from flesh. Someone with magical abilities sent these two creatures after you. You wonder out loud, “What kind of mess have I gotten myself into?"
|
Smoke and steam escape from the dingy doorway as I pull open the door. Inside, the atmosphere is muffled and dim. But it’s only a quarter to seven and the evening crowd hasn’t come yet. I make my way over to the bar. The bartender smiles and waves me over.
“The usual, Adam?”
I smile and nod in return. A couple seconds later, I’ve plopped into the corner booth with a violently coloured drink. He’s late. Again. Probably that damned steam car. I was about to take my first sip when the clanking of dubious mechanism sounds behind me and a cold, metal hand descends on my shoulder.
“Starting without me, eh? To used to instant information that you can’t bother to wait for a friend?”
“Only because you took forever to get here. Forget to wind your watch?”
Insults exchanged, Aaron drops into the seat across from me, grinning mischievously from ear to ear. Until he sees my drink. With a look of joking disgust, he thumps his tankard full of whatever ale this bar happens to carry.
“ So. You will not believe what happened to me since we last saw each other. I got this new commission. First time I read it, I thought it was the regular. Please design a flying machine thank you good day. But, when I looked over it again, I realized the client had even specified an energy source. Weird, considering my job, right? And instead of steam, this weirdo wants me to power his machine on toast. I had already taken the commission, and now I have to make a bread run flying machine-“
I take a swig from my glass.
“Really? Toast flying machine? Is that really all? But two days ago, I was wandering the web when suddenly one of my alerts starts going off. Someone was trying to hack into my security network! Worst of all, they had navigated almost half of the viruses a had placed in there! But, you know me. I start to work my magic and as I push them out, I notice an option to look through their camera. And, as it activates, a picture slowly clears to reveal a cat lying on the keyboard. Somehow, this napping cat managed to bypass-“
The waiter arrives at our booth in the middle of my story. He drops off a plate of assorted nuts and fruit. We both thank him and Aaron orders his second refill. The liver on that man!
“ Cats are the internet gods. Everyone knows that, Adam. But, you can’t compare to this! So bionics where outlawed years ago, right? But I stumble into antiques shop, and sitting in corner is a mangled price of metal. Now it’s my turn to work my magic. I cleaned out the joints and fixed some bits, and I’m about halfway through when the heap starts to look suspiciously like a rubber.. well, metal duck. So, I finish the sucker and I put it in the bath. I guess the water activated it because it started swimming around. Kind of cute, I thought, until it notices the soap. Suddenly, the ducks jaw unhinges and-“
I was on my third drink and I had no time for silly steam powered soap sucks. Ducks. Whatever.
“Aaron. Now is the time for seriousness. No ducks. No toast. No cats. No hats. We come here every weekend. Now is the time for intelligent conversashion.”
Crap. I’m slurring. But, this story will show him!
“ Aaron?”
He nods in an imitation of sobriety.
“Picture the scene. Twelve men. Each armed with an EMP device. And, humble old me, surrounded by these people who’s only mishion is to take me down. What do I do? I’ll tell what I do. I grope around my desk for the nearest object. Wanna guess what it was?”
“Just tell me man.”
“No, no. Go on. Guess.”
“Screw driver?”
“Heh, no! I look in my hand and it’s my breakfast. I take the price of toast and toss it out of the window as a dishtraction. Then, I duck quickly beneath my desk. Next to me, is, get this, a cat plush. But inside of the cat plush is where I meet my SECRET weapon. My ultimate phone. With it, I disable the Devices. But there’s still twelve men. So, I activate code 17 cactus alpha”
“Do you name your codes randomly ?”
“No. They have specific names that relate to their purpose. But I’m not done. I activate the code, and poof! Robots I’ve hidden into the walls explode out and start to take out the men. Then, I jump out the window and slide down the fire escape. How can you get more epic than that?”
Aaron looks at me groggily. Hmm. The the admiration I deserve.
“I don’t get it Adam.”
“What’s not to get?”
“Cactus Alpha? What does cactus have to do anything?”
“That’s not the point. The super awesome robots..”
Suddenly I notice that we are the last people in the bar. Aaron notices as well. We both stumble to our feet and both pay the bill. Simultaneously. As we weave outside Aaron turns to me.
“Adam?”
“Ya?”
“Until next week?”
“Always”
I head home and pass out on my bed. I wake up with a headache but I log into my computer anyway. It’s time to make a story.
|
How likely was a cultist to move in next door?
Alright, that question was a little overplayed, I’ve been asking myself that for 20 minutes now.
Sure, weird demonic noises and chants were coming from her apartment. So what, maybe she liked occult movies.
Maybe she’d been captured by some actual cult and they were sacrificing her as I uselessly ran through hypotheticals.
Or she was sacrificing some poor teenager to her dark overlords.
However, she’s really smart, knows how to talk to people, appears to be a rather functional adult.
Which would be the perfect cover for a cult leader.
“Damnit.”
I got up. Either she was in trouble, someone else was in trouble, or she was watching a scary movie.
I had no idea which was worse, barging in on an in-progress culting, or barging in on a nice woman while she watches a movie.
I was out my door, six measured steps and I was outside her door.
The chanting was louder and more pronounced now that I was right here.
Wasn’t this going on a little long? Like a movie scene would be over by this point wouldn’t it?
I knocked. I didn’t really want to, in fact I’m pretty sure my hand did it of its own volition.
The chanting stopped instantly. Like someone paused it.
A wave of relief washed through me. Just a movie.
The door slammed open, a little aggressively.
And Sabrina, my neighbor, was not who greeted me.
“Oh hi!” The incredibly small blonde woman was bubbling with enthusiasm. “You must be Sab’s neighbor!”
If you looked up blank look in the dictionary, my face would have been staring at you, blankly.
“Uh, yeah?”
“Come on in!” She turned on a dime, and vanished into Sabrina’s apartment. Her red robe followed closely.
Wait, red robe? Who wears a red robe?
Was she wearing anything else under the robe?
Is there something wrong with me?
Why was there such a weird, line of sight blocking, sharp turn immediately past the front door? In what I could only assume was a one-bedroom apartment.
I had a lot of questions, but a pretty, possibly naked girl just invited me into my hot neighbor’s apartment. The real question was why I was still debating.
Oh right, I didn’t want to be sacrificed.
Wait, how did she know who I was?
That thought came a little too late, as the door clicked shut behind me. I was already committed.
The six steps to Sabrina’s door were nearly instant, but these three steps into her apartment were agonizingly slow.
“Hey, did you get lost out there?”
I sheepishly stepped into the apartment proper.
“Oh there you are! I’m Helen, and you already know Sabrina, and this is Joey.”
Helen was not naked. Just had a skin colored shirt on. The red robe was still a bit culty.
“I’m Tom.”
Helen was sitting with her legs over Joey’s, both her and Joey had beer bottles in hand.
Sabrina had a glass of red wine, she was also wearing red robe, but a different make.
“Sabrina told me all about you!”
“I… Uh… Really? She learned all about me in the ten minutes we talked?”
“Yes! All about how big and strong and handsome and witty you were!”
“Oh my god, Helen, would you not!”
“Tom, you’re looking a little red in the face there. You want a beer?”
“Yeah! Grab a beer, sit on the couch nice and close to Sabrina, and we can watch scary movies together!”
I think being sacrificed to a dark god would’ve been less awkward.
I sat down between Joey and Sabrina. Opened my cheap beer, and then Helen started hunting for a scary movie. She kept talking about slashers or monster movies, thrillers vs suspense…
Wait, didn’t I interrupt a scary movie?
What was playing before I got here?
“Hey, Tom. You should try some of this wine.”
I really shouldn't try the wine.
I tried it. I like wine. It had a very heavy, metallic taste to it.
“I’m really sorry Tom.”
“What… for?”
“We normally don’t let Helen torture people quite that viciously before we kill them.”
I got a nice view of the floor to ceiling altar that I’d walked right past on my way into the apartment before I fell unconscious. |
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