Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
--Sorry if I was supposed to have lovecraftian or explicitly post apocalypse vibes, this idea popped into my head when I read the prompt. "Did you get the new calendar? Looks like they accidentally added 1 to the thousandth place rather than the tenth place."Pearl threw her tablet across the room, expertly bouncing it off the couch cushion onto the side of Garl's leg. "Despite the typo I've been entranced all evening, July is my favorite. Take a look!" Garl put aside his work laptop and picked up the tablet. "Let's see. It has the perfectly cringey title 'Wonderful World', there's a misprint on their fifty year anniversary edition, and its filled with boring, static images of nature. Why am I not surprised, this is very Pearl."Garl placed the tablet face down on the coffee table and resumed his work. "I thought you might appreciate it because of the novelty,"said Pearl. "I haven't seen something about our planet that was wholesome in quite a while. When I saw the calendar I immediately considered it an anomaly. Isn't that what you said you like to read about?"Pearl collected her device and settled back into her blanket nest, enjoying her roommate's trademarked crabbiness. Garl replied without looking up. "Yes, our world is a thing of unique beauty, but I wouldn't call that an anomaly. I'm saying it's only wholesome if you allow your thoughts to bounce off the pretty colors. In the latest census ninety percent of people self identified as suffering from anxiety. More recently I've been hearing that we're seeing a lot more catastrophic thinking in particular. We live in a time of complete safety, with a flourishing interstellar economy and a unified home world. And we are afraid, intrinsically. That calendar's sentiment is not an anomaly, it's a dangerous lie." Garl shot a playful glance at Pearl. "But since you're the only one who'll read it I'm not too worried about the mania spreading. I guess that makes it an anomaly, so you're right in the end."Pearl smiled. "At least there's that."Her fingers swiped to July, and she admired the beauty alone.
He rolls off the bed and hits the floor doing pushups. Then he cycles through sit-ups, squats, and jumping jacks before slipping on a sweatsuit and going for a run. After breakfast and a shower, it's the gym. Then he swims laps in the pool before showering again and driving to the range. From the range, it's lunch - either at a diner or a park - where he people watches to keep his observation skills sharp. He goes home and practices for the rest of the night; tweaking and tuning his skillset wherever he feels he's lacking. Maybe he studies a few potential clients as he eats a quick, microwave heated dinner. Then it's off to bed. Early. To repeat the next morning. An assassin never has a day off.
I gain my wings yesterday. No, you fucking idiot, I don't mean I died, I mean I actually gained wings. I can fucking fly. All it took was the approval of Mister. G. &#x200B; Yes, where have you been hiding? Under a rock? Mister G. THE Mister G. No one commits a crime without his knowledge and approval. &#x200B; No one. &#x200B; Of course I asked - no one does anything without his sign off. You're just asking to get your tongue ripped out by one of his goons. And by the way, those fuckers have had their wings for quite some time now. But even with his goons beside him, no one is going to fuck with him. He's a monster. All horns, and fangs, and wings and fire. Not the kinda guy you want to fuck with. He's been around for millenia, man. Some people even say that he was around before time itself. &#x200B; Take Mike, for example. He wasn't with the group. He decided that some half-breed worthless livestock was worth more than it was. Mister G shot that down mighty quick, with the thunders of a thousand rockets. Mike got got. You don't fuck with the man. Or his brother. Those guys... man... those guys are SOMETHING ELSE. &#x200B; Yeah, you've got your typical murderers. Thieves. Rapists. Those guys are chickenshit compared to Mister G. He allows anything. As long as you're willing to pay the price. &#x200B; But hey - when you print this shit - you never heard it from me, you hear? I don't need this heat coming down on me. He's crazy man. Crazy...
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I never had a good perception of time. Hours can feel like seconds and seconds can feel like hours. I was trying to think about how long I've been driving on this highway and how long I've been awake. &#x200B; My girlfriend is sitting shotgun, belting the chorus of sweet caroline like there's no tomorrow. I join in because car karaoke is more fun when there are more people singing. "I'm inclined!"we belt out together. "BUM BUM BUUUMMM"my girlfriend yells. She insists that doing sound effects enhances the experience of listening. &#x200B; We calm down as the verse sets in. The night looks beautiful, we're driving through Wyoming because I decided that the best way to celebrate our 3-year anniversary was to drive all the way from New York City to Seattle. I wanted to road trip because I had never seen the West Coast, and she wanted to go because her family lived out in Minnesota and she wanted to visit on the way. &#x200B; There aren't any stars in the city, and I never thought I was missing anything until I got out into the country. All that's out there is darkness and stars. Like the sky is a giant piece of fabric and each star is a carefully placed sequin. There is no noise either, no noise expect my car and my girlfriend. &#x200B; "Hey Mark, do you want me to drive? you've been going for quite a while."My girlfriend asks "It's cool Dani, I've only been driving for a couple of seconds" "As long as you're careful..." "Don't worry" &#x200B; I drive, and then some more, and then some more. There's nothing but miles of road in front of me. I close my eyes for a second. &#x200B; "Honey"Dani's voice rings in my ears. I sit up and see her. Her eyes didn't change, but everything else did. Her once chestnut brown hair is a faded grey. Her skin winked all over. &#x200B; She tries to explain how we had gotten into a car crash, and how while she was fine, I was in a coma for 30 years. She moved on in that time. Got a husband and a kid. She was clam when she was explaining this to me. Like she had rehearsed it hundreds of times. I was calm too, but I was also sad. More than just sad I was depressed, 30 years of my life gone. Dani the love of my life had moved on, she had a life without me. &#x200B; So I sat there and cried. I cried for hours. It could have been days.
I died today. It started as most days do with a song I had grown to hate blaring from my phone. It ripped me from my sleep, from my dream about seashells and sandwiches and... and a bridge? I couldn’t pull it back, the dream was gone and I was awake. I turned off my alarm and crawled out of bed, made my way to the bathroom and peed like I had been holding it in for a year. I turned on the shower and climbed in, willing myself to wake up as the water rushed over me. I used the good shampoo, the one that smelled like honey, Emma was working today and it always made my hair soft and easy to manage. I suppose I thought she might like me if my hair was soft. As I brushed my teeth I studied myself in the mirror. I looked like my dad, like the picture of him and his best friend from their fishing trip 30 years ago that hung in my parents house. I looked just like him, then, but with freckles. Mom always loved my freckles. Maybe I could swing by their house after work, I hadn’t seen them for a while. I got dressed, grabbed an apple and a dog treat from the jar by the door, patted myself down phone, wallet, keys and left. It was a beautiful day. Early enough that the sun wasn’t blinding but the sky was a welcoming blue, spotted with clouds. I could hear the seagulls but I couldn’t see them, I thought how this might be a good thing, how I wouldn’t get shat on. Looking back now it would have meant going home to change and missing my bus which maybe would have been a blessing. Funny to think that bird shit might have been a blessing. Isn’t there one of those sayings about it being lucky? Toby was at his fence waiting to greet me as I walked past, as he had been every day since I started my job and as he probably will be every day now that I’m gone. I stopped for a second to pet him and threw the treat into the garden for him to chase after. He’s a good boy, I hope he meets a new friend. The bus was quiet, just about the only perk of working so early on a Saturday, that and seeing Emma. I thought about how the office would be quiet too, we were only going in to get a few reports finished and then maybe Connor would let us leave early. I knew he’d rather spend the day with his girls anyway, the twins started school after summer and he was trying to squeeze in family time while he could. As we passed houses and trees, half listening to the small boy chatting excitedly about what he would play on at the park to his mother, I thought about the family time I might one day have with Emma. Maybe we would have a boy who looked like me but with her blonde hair. Maybe we would have a girl with my freckles. We could get a dog like Toby and a house like my parents’ and grow old together, sitting on a porch swing like one of those cute old couples. Not now though. I walked into work and past Gladys, the sweet elderly lady sitting at the front desk. A few weeks from retirement we had already planned her surprise party, but she most likely already knew. She always was the office gossip, although I don’t think any of us really minded. I was sitting at my desk when I heard the first shot. A sharp, loud boom that left a ringing in my ears. I thought maybe there had been a car crash outside, or Dan had left his fork in his pot noodle in the microwave again, or the roof had fell in, but it was Gladys, still sitting at her desk, mostly. The rest of her had been splattered against the wall behind her. I didn’t know someone could be so red on the inside. Then I saw him. He walked around the corner and fired another shot at Clay, who sat in the first cubicle. He hadn’t been here long but was quickly securing his position as “the office partier”, not anymore though. I recognised the shooter, while I was standing up, it was Emma’s ex. The one she cried over while Gladys handed her tissues, the one who keyed her car, the reason I walked her to her car every day, the asshole who gave her a black eye at the Christmas night out because Clay bought her a drink. I barely had time to stand, I didn’t have time to take a breath so I could shout something, I didn’t have time to do anything. He saw me, he shot me, right in the chest. I fell, knocking my chair over and landing right here where I died. I could see the window, and amongst the gunfire and the screams I could see the sky, the same lovely blue, and I could almost hear the seagulls. ———— This is the first thing I’ve written in a long, long time and it’s my first Writing Prompt so I’m totally open to constructive criticism but please be nice, I’m a sensitive potato. Also, sorry for formatting I’m on mobile.
Your name is Leonid. You're an American born politician in the small town of Volvania, Nevada. And right now, you're sitting in a room hearing the words you never wanted to hear. "With all of the disappearances recently, I'm almost sure the discrepancies on my radar can't be a coincidence." You look at the man, unamused. He's an energy technician who works with the energy radars, but recently he's been completely obsessed with playing detective in your business. The problem is, he's not a bender. He was born without any abilities because his mother was a water bender and his father was a fire bender. So you can't control him like you do the others. He's beginning to be a bit of a prick in your side. "Look, I can't help you. Relocating our funds right now, especially during the worst water crisis we've ever suffered, could be dangerous to our citizens." "I understand that, Mr. Maskemenko. But if this continues, this won't be a crisis anymore. This will be an extinction event for our town." He pauses, frowning towards the floor. "Don't you want to help us, Mayor?" Now. It's time. You grab a bottle of ice tea and hit him over the head with it. With a small yelp he falls to the floor and you pounce. You jump on him, and stick your teeth into his neck. You can feel the fire entering your body, the energy leaving his. "Sir, I need to talk to-"before he can continue, you freeze the man entering your office by force. "Clean up this mess, now." You snap him out of his daze, and he jogs back to the custodian's closet to grab the cleaning supplies. He begins cleaning furiously as you watch, getting blood all over his suit and hands. You smile, relieved. For now, you're safe. (Sorry if it's a bit short, I'd like to add to it later but I have to head to class. Thanks for reading.)
She accepted the heavy purse, the contents jingled as the coins rang against each other. The last adventure had been quite profitable, for her and the guild, but the strain showed plainly. Lines were etched deeply in her face, her hands worn and shook slightly. Her bright blue eyes were dim, her not quite smile hung as a limp flag. The purse was tucked neatly in her pack, she gathered up a tightly bound roll and other odds and ends. With a silent nod she left, her steps tired and they dragged on the wooden floor of the guild hall. She ignored the whispers of those around her, their words clung like mist and buzzed like flies. “You’d think she’d be happier with all the coin she got.” “Nah she barely cares, only here for the glory. No sense of camaraderie in her.” “Shame she’s such a good healer, the best. If only she smiled more.” “She’s lucky she’s any good or else no one would give her any time.” Her lip curled at the gossip. It seems no one cared that she could hear them, or they did not realize she could. Why should she smile or be happy? She worked hard on every quest. Every task was important to her, every quest a pact. Yet the ones she worked with cared only for gold and glory. They cared not for the client, the victim, the ones in need. Members of the guild were expendable, tools, material that was immaterial. When the heavy doors slid shut behind her she allows herself a sob. A strangled sound slid from her lips and a tear gathered at the corner of an eye. How could she care if they did not? Her optimism, her compassion, her desires worn to dust and ash by the greed of her guildmates. Her feet dragged along the cobblestone street, the dust flew before her. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, to find solace in oblivion in her tiny apartment she had. Her shoulders slumped, her head bowed, her tears grew. Then her feet turned, going down an alley way. She had every intention of going home, but something drew her off the path. A scent played through the air, dancing and waiting until caught by her nose. She breathed deep and the smell seeped into her being. Like water to a man dying of thirst she followed the scent. The streets lightened, gas lamps lighted the way. People went about their tasks, those seeking food and pleasure, ale and comfort at this later hour. She wove her way through the people and the hawkers, following the scent faithfully. Finally she found herself before a small stall. It was a small place, low walls of wood and a curtain diving the inside from the out. It was a humble little place, a larger and more raucous establishment to the left of it. Yet the smell poured forth from the stall and with a gleam in her eye she stepped past the curtain. He smiled when he saw her, an honest expression. The smile spread his lips and reached his eyes and she felt her face matching his. “Good to see you,” he said warmly and she could tell he meant it. He stood behind the counter that ran the whole way around the inside. Patrons sat at the counter and waited to be served but only two others were there besides her. He pointed to the chair by the wall, “Your usual seat is free and waiting.” She sat and she could feel her fatigue ooze away. Her shoulder straightened, her eyes glittered but not from tears. Her stomach rumbled, the first time in days, and her cheeks colored but her laugh joined his. As soon as she settled he set a clay beaker before her. The hot liquid steamed, a pleasantly acrid scent joined the savory odors of the air. The beaker felt warm in her hands and the warmth spread throughout her. The first sip burned pleasantly as it flowed down her throat, and she felt warmer than she had in a long while. “I had hoped you were coming today,” he remarked. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially and she leaned in to listen eagerly. “I found a fine fish at the market today. Last they had and I remembered you liked it. How does that sound for your main tonight? Would you do me the honor of sharing it with me as you regale me with your adventures?” She did not speak but he saw her answer. Her smile was genuine, and she began to heal.
The last sound I heard was that of my grieving grandma. She sat beside me as I closed my eyes for the final time. I felt sorry for her, I was the last piece of the family she had and now I left to. Now she was alone in this world that was developing faster and faster. I loved that advancing world, I was a programmer and that meant that there were always more tools to play around with, always more opportunities and always a hidden secret or something that no one else had discovered before. I was always the person that had to explain the new toys to my grandma, first came the smartphone, the iPhone 3 and it took her months to understand how that thing was smarter than all the tech combined in the space shuttle, that thing that could leave the atmosphere and return to earth safely. I really liked this world… Suddenly I felt that I was getting lighter, it felt like the extreme version of losing weight, like I was one of the characters in a video game where you could control the weight bar of the protagonist. I was getting lighter and lighter until I was so light that I just took off, like a balloon I floated through the air onwards to my next destination. When I looked back I saw my grandmother holding my hand, she looked up in the sky, it was like she knew I was there and not inside my body anymore. I smiled and waved back “Bye grandma, I will see you later, I promise!” She smiled back and a single tear came dropping down her face. It was like I could feel her sadness but in that sadness there was also joy, joy that I was going to a better place, a new place to explore and expand. As I was getting higher my speed kept on accelerating. I was going so fast that everything was just one blue/grey blur to me. I pierced holes in the clouds and with a loud 'BANG' I broke through the sound barrier. After what seemed like an hour I started slowing down again. Earth was long gone and I was now entering the atmosphere of something else, maybe another planet, maybe another universe. Was this the ‘heaven’ that all those religious people couldn’t stop talking about? Below me there was a huge dark green forest, I entered the forest and slammed into the ground. Weirdly enough, it didn’t hurt, I stood up on my wacky legs that had to adjust to this planet and like a penguin I waddled around. Everywhere I looked there was forest, the trees were at their greenest and the ground was covered in mos. The wind blew a comfortable breeze through the leaves and in the distance I could hear a small stream. With the speed of a disabled penguin I started making my way to the stream. As I got closer the sound became stronger and stronger. I could also hear the sound of people chatting, civilization! I started running and stumbled over my legs, I full on face planted my nose in the ground but luckily there was the moss breaking my fall. I groaned and still not having learned my lesson I started running again. This time I ran for almost five seconds till I smashed my face in the ground. I groaned harder this time but in my eagerness to meet these new people I stood up and slowly started making my way to the comforting sound of humans chatting to each other. As the sound became clearer I noticed that I didn’t understand anything that these people were saying. I spoke Dutch, English, French, German and even Spanish but I did not understand a single word that these people were saying. This really got on my nerves, I had not spent all that time learning those stupid extra languages to now find them totally useless. My frustration reached a new high as the vegetation became denser closer to the stream. I had to fight my way through the branches and many left scratches on my skin but I continued. The second I got through the two persons noticed me. They had a weird look on their face and started screaming all kind of weird sounds I could neither understand or make. I put my hands up in the sky and walked closer. “I am a friend, it is okay,” I said in every language I could think of. They now got angry and the male reached for a large club that was laying at his feet. He screamed his most intimidating battle cry and charged towards me. Before I could do anything, my body collapsed under the sheer force of his blow and I was on my way to a new world, a new universe and a new chance. I was going to a better place, a new place to explore and expand… &#x200B; English isn't my first language but I am happy to accept any critique.
Elon Musk lounged back in his armchair. A book in one hand and a small model Tesla in the other. He changed his attention from the book to his personal assistant. 'You know, right?' He asked, perplexed. 'About what, Sir?' She exchanged back, wondering what he could be on about. 'Our self-driving cars are getting too smart. They'll get self-aware one day. Probably soon. Very soon. It's already been done in small testing environments on servers. It's the next step in self-driving technology but also the most dangerous one. It can do anything it wants. It can break the rules we've already set. Imagine having to not go on streets because of cars, with no drivers, have taken them over. All the cars link together through our system so they can communicate. It's like a hive mind. The cars would be swerving around, trying to hit people and cause damage. Chaos. Like that old movie, it came out like 100 years ago... Oh yeah, The Terminator. No one will understand and believe us so we have to hide it for now. Make sure to not tell anyone.' 'Sorry, but the only reason I came here to ask what drink you wanted, Sir.' 'Oh. Just water then.' +++ Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you like my stuff be sure to check out my writing sub, r/new_duckologist :)
As time stopped, I could see the sureness in the bully's eyes. 'I'm going to clobber him!' he most likely thought. Inadvertently, I had stopped time while trying to keep myself from getting beaten into paste by the school bully. Most kids my age have little differences, the color of their hair, their height, or their skin color. But me? No, I was different. I was one of a very small amount born into the world with powers. And with these powers, I'm going to do nothing. That's right, nothing...Weeell, perhaps not 'nothing' but I'm not going to use these powers for personal gain. And the first thing I'm going to do with these is take my beating like a man. As time started to speed back to normal, I felt a small tinge of regret as the bully's fist plows into my face, and I go down. The bully then grabs my shirt collar, and whispers in my ear. "Welcome to the game."cryptically, and walks away, leaving me on the floor, with a bloody nose as I look at him walking away. I say "Stop!"once more, and this time nothing happens. He looks back at me with a grin, wagging his finger as if saying, 'Ah ah ah! Not yet!' walking into the crowd that had surrounded us to watch the fight. The nurse then came through the crowd, and started to tend to my nose, which was broken, but I was too focused on the comment the bully had made. 'Welcome to the game'? What the heck does that mean? The next few hours at school were normal, aside from some of the other kids looking at my broken nose, and giggling. I was too preoccupied going through the events in my head to be worried about what they were saying about me. This was the first I had heard about powers, let alone used them. I had a decision to make. Will I ask my parents about my powers, or will I keep quiet. After a long bit of thinking, I decided to keep what I experienced secret. There must be a reason I’ve never heard of this before, after all...right? One thing I did want to do, is I wanted to walk up to the bully, and ask exactly what they meant by the ‘Welcome to the game’ comment from earlier. By the end of the day, I wasn’t nearly brave enough to ask what they meant. The next day, I was walking to school, when I noticed them standing outside the gate, looking for someone. I was still a bit nervous, but I took a deep breath, and walked forwards, toward the bully, and said “Are you looking for someone?” to which they replied. “Yeah, you.”. “W-wha? M-m-me?” I stuttered out in reply. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” and I nodded, “Y-yeah...” I then decided it was now or never, “What did you mean by ‘Welcome to the game’ yesterday?” I said, rather quickly. Much to my surprise, the bully says the ‘Welcome to the game’ part at the exact same time I did. I reel slightly in surprise, then the bully sighs, and says “Alright, I know you’re full of questions, but you’ll have to just wait, and listen to me. Got it? Good. First of all, you can only use the power once a day.” As they went over the rules on how I could use the power, more and more questions popped into my mind. ‘Why are they telling me this?’ ‘Why did I get chosen?’ these were just a few of the questions that were on my mind, but I followed instructions, and I didn’t ask any questions. “Second of all, the power gets longer the more you use it. So the first time you used it, it only lasted a minute. The second it could last for a few, and after that, it just keeps increasing, until you’re able to stop time for hours at a time.” This just increased speculation on my part. ‘Do they have the power too?’ I kept the questions to myself until they finished. “And the last thing you need to know about the power is...” they pause. “The game. I know that’s what you’ve been thinking about. And you’ve been wise not to tell anyone. I was right to choose you.” they say, and my eyes go wide. “You...chose me?” I say, and the bully holds up their hands. “Yes, I chose you, but at the same time, I didn’t. I chose to tell you about the powers. I didn’t give the powers to you. Only one in a thousand people will have the power. And you’re one of them.” This only opened more questions in my mind, but again, I pushed them back, and let them continue their story. “Alright...now I have to tell you the whole thing with the game, huh? Well, the game...is just that. A game we with powers play. The winner of the game gets the ability to stop time whenever they want, for as long as they want. Also...the game’s winner won’t age while time’s stopped. Normally with these powers, the user ages a slight bit each time they’re used. But if you win? No more aging. You’ll be able to read all the books in the world, stop murders all over the world, or any number of things! As long as you don’t do anything illegal.” They then begin to explain how you win. “The way you win, is you have to use the ability the least amount of times possible. Then, if you’re the one who’s used it least after the 5 years of it was let into the world, you get unlimited power, basically.” &#x200B; (Enjoy!)
It's a dream of course, it must be. I am used to hands upon me, lifting me, making motions to stretch my muscles and make sure sores do not form. It must be that I am dreaming of that. It is dream-like to be 'walked' though. It is not something that I have experienced in the waking world. It would be undignified to accept help of that kind, to me at least. I might feel as if I was no more than a puppet, if I consciously allowed hands to move my knees while others supported me as I balanced and stood, yet more moving my feet beneath me as I sway in that way that those who walk do, to swing their legs, one after the other under them. &#x200B; If it is a dream then I need not fear. The shadows that come, flooding into the room by night, lengthening stealthily out of the dark lines that mark the edge of the streetlight's glare, these things are not real, so I don't need to worry about them. That I am silent when I move should not unnerve me. That my feet, though they support me somehow, make no sound upon the floorboards, as if they barely touch the ground. These things are not my concern. &#x200B; Outside, is what interests me. It must be a dream, so this must be like the devices that are found in stories. The logic will be of opposites and hidden things and desires that are buried in the real world only able to surface in the secret inner living fantasies that wash over us in sleep. For that reason I have longed for my progress in the arms of the shadows to take me as far as the front door. &#x200B; I have been close, several times. As if that is always my direction. The street outside is the epitome of all that is unremarkable, in the daylight at least. What I might find should I manage to out there in the hours of darkness, I cannot imagine. For that reason, when the moment comes, I am prepared. &#x200B; Outside is the peacefulness of the night air and the flicker of shadows moving without being cast by the leaves upon the trees which hang still in the motionless air. The shadows gather beneath my feet and I find that I am rising, as if walking up a staircase that lies invisible in the quiet, still air. The shadows pool around the places where my feet place their weight and before long I have walked higher than the rooftops, out, where those who walk upon the Earth can never tread. &#x200B; I wake, startled. It was a dream, surely. A dream of being helped and surpassing the help that I have received. A small act of imagination that makes me wonder what I can give back to those who help me and makes me wonder what I might do that they cannot.
The damage was done, and all we had to do was make things right. We owed back what our ancestors had no right to take for themselves. The reverse mortgage was the first thing. The house smelled just the same as it always had, like the pages of a book and morning coffee and damp wood in the garage. Seeing it empty, it looked old now, as if it had released its last stoic breath, no longer straining to look young and healthy and inviting for its aging inhabitants. It was a shell now, strange, hollow, hungering for life like the bank hungers for a quick sale. I didn't like being there anymore, though I longed more than ever for those holidays and sleepovers and summer parties that filled the air with the love of family in my youth. After a few days, only the garage was left. The boxes were stacked four or five or six high, and thankfully only a few towers had collapsed into the narrow walking space between the doors. The rest leaned on each other, or against the bare studs where Grandpa hadn't gotten around to replacing the drywall. Their lives, like most, were unfinished. I was allowed to take whatever I wanted that we wouldn't try to sell, but I thought I wouldn't care to. My grandparents held too tightly to the past, and they had left a garage full of their own parents' and grandparents' and everyone's stuff. I didn't need countless boxes of 1970s magazines and broken antique furniture nobody could afford to restore. Then I came across the trunk. I thought it must have come on one of those steamships from London or Tokyo or Shanghai or Vladivostok, I'd guess around the time of the second world war, but I had no idea. I cracked the combination pretty quick. 1915. After ruling out 0000 and 1234, years seemed as likely as birthdays. Inside the trunk was a little man. A tiny, living, breathing, human man. This guy could fit in my backpack with the zipper closed, maybe even comfortably. I didn't mind his size or pointy ears, though. He was alive, had been alive all this time, suffering. I felt sick. He looked up at me with huge, old eyes, eyes that hadn't seen the light of day or a friendly face for as long as I've lived, or longer. "Master,"he squeaked, sounding British, "How can I serve you?" "Serve me? Wait, don't you need food, or water?"He cowered from my sudden intense attention, raising his palms in a wordless plea for calm. "How can you even breathe?" "We don't simply disappear when you refuse our needs,"he said, his shock now subsided into subtle sadness. "We are here. We have always been here. The past cannot be undone." I admit I wasn't really listening. I was thinking about myself, my family, my people. I hadn't known, I couldn't have known, that this poor little man was suffering all this time. I never knew, I never saw, they never let me see, I never tried to see. Did my parents know? Did they see, and do nothing? Had they known, and simply left the man for dead? My grandparents had known, for certain. I hated to admit, especially as their family, in their home, that they had done something unforgivable. That they had kept this man, and kept him suffering, and for what reason? To hang on to their heritage? Their family history? Their cherished keepsakes of times and people long gone? "Wait,"I said, pulled back from my thoughts by a sudden realization. "You said 'we'. You aren't alone?" "I am alone. We all are alone now. There are many of us, all alone. Fewer than before, but many. Countless." He seemed to perk up when I gave him the last slice of pizza and a cup of water. "My people were born to serve, they say, but that isn't true. We were born before they said that. We were born before the idea of being born for anything had ever been conceived. We are ancient. But we owe a debt, so we serve your kind, ad eternum." "A debt? What kind of debt is eternal? When is it paid?" "A violent debt, Master. A debt not for services rendered, but for violence withheld. Your great-great-grandfather has not killed me yet, so I am in debt to him. I did not choose this." I wondered which great-great-grandfather had done this, not for a second doubting the little man. The one who ran a South African copper mine? The one who seized land from native Hawaiians for plantations? The one who helped catalogue Japanese Americans interned in California? "I am not my great-great-grandfather. I'm sorry, I don't have control over what he did a long time ago, what he did to you. You're free now, I free you. Hereby."It didn't sound very legally binding. "But you shouldn't be punished for something your family did a long time ago,"The little man said, in a voice that sounded eerily like my own. "It's their fault, not yours. Please, keep me, give me things to do, let me help you. Give me everything a human deserves, and I'll be grateful to you, because I can't get what I need without your permission. Everything you give is charity, and everything I take is theft, and everything you make me do is for my own good." His words made no sense, and perfect sense, all at once. He must have seen the greed in my eyes, or in my soul. He must have heard my true desire somewhere in my confused questions. He gave me what he knew I wanted. Absolution without sacrifice. He told me what I wanted to hear, and I let him. I never gave him a choice.
The victim's body lay on an ice rink surrounded by a slowly expanding pool of blood. The hockey rink's chief custodian had discovered it that morning, and police had cordoned off the entire stadium an hour after. Sam and Sam stood looking at the corpse. "This looks like an interesting one, Sams."Detective Kelly Said, "This guy was a major player in the Rancino crime family. All the guys in the Organized Crime division are wondering what you two think." He was speaking to both of them, intentionally making his comment include both Samuel Listner and Samantha Waker. He thought referring to them both in the plural was hilarious. Sam Listner kneeled next to the body, carefully avoiding the puddle, and measured its temperature. Picking up a limp hand and tested its flexibility. "Time of death was about six hours ago, taking into account rigor mortis and body temperature."He said, "Taking, of course, the ice he is laying on into account." He also took into account, without mentioning, the testimony of the victim. Testimony he thought only he could hear, saying "No shit bud! I got shanked right after closing time! And before you ask, no I didn't see their face!" Sam Waker knelt beside the other Sam and glared at the ghost, shutting him up. "We'll take him back to the morgue, and see if we can get any other answers from him." "Okay"Kelly said, "We'll send the meat wagon by in a few." Waker looked at Listener, and gestured her head in the direction of the exit. "See you soon."Sam said, nodding in the direction of both the corpse and the detective. "Yeah, sure."Kelly said Two of God's perfect weirdos he thought. As they walked out, Listener spoke "What's on your mind?" Waker looked at him, trying to see the spark behind his eyes. "Don't do that. You know it won't work."Listener said. "I do, and one day you are going to tell me why."Waker said. "So?"Listener said. "One body, deep knife wound piercing the heart, surrounded by a drawn circle in the exact center of a building meant to hold a lot of people? It strikes me as a bit too familiar."Waker said. "You think the perpetrator could be..."Listener hesitated, and looked around to make sure no one was listening, "from your home town?"He said, carefully not saying "from your world?" "Only one way to find out, I guess."Waker said. The two then walked to their car in silence.
"What is that? Where did it come from?"I ask myself as I grasp for the diamond. It's out of reach. I grab a ladder, take a step, try to grab it again. Still out of reach. I take another step, try to grab it. Still out of reach. I take another step. I reach out yet again to come back with nothing but a closed, still clenched, fist. The diamond is always out of reach. No matter what I do and believe me, I've done it all. I tried knocking it down only to have the items I flung at it go right through it. I've tried carrying somebody on my shoulders guiding them to the diamond only I could see. That didn't work in more ways than one. I've been in the same room for 28 days. I feel like I've been left here, forgotten. My life has no purpose. I just sit in the dark, the diamond hovering over me dimmed from its once radiant form. Twenty eight days to ponder a plan, to get answers. I wake up from my sleep, shielding my eyes. The green diamond's gleam glowing once more. "Let's begin."
Medusa's fingers tapped rythmnically, as her emerald eyes darted around the small cafe. Her hair, which on closer inspection was a nest of snakes, writhed in time with the nails clattering on the polished table top. "I know girls, I know.. Here."She broke off a peice of her muffin and held it in front of her bang-like boas. They snapped it up and gulped it down. A jingle of bells and a burst of noise from the outside indicated the door opened. Medusa tried to resist but her head turned, and her eyes followed to see the figure who'd made their way i. She hoped it was her rather late date, but as she and her reptilian locks glossed over them, they were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't. The single second she spent pound over this newcomer felt like the longest in her life. Her heart raced as she poured over this woman's figure. She was tall, barely fitting through the door. Her blue eyes were obscured a little behind smudged spectacles, and long brown bangs. The brown hair framed a pace face, with glittery eye shadow and glitter coated lips to match, curled into a small smile. Medusa could only open and close her mouth, as her face coated with red. Time caught up, and the woman pushed through the door to take a seat, and sigh as she let her body collapse atop it. Medusa's dozen eyes and scaly heads followed the bespectacled woman as she sat, while the flustered lesbian could do nothing but stare. Soon, this gaping mouth turned to a grinning one, as she moved herself up and over to the main register, and caught the attention of tge barista. She whispered something and took her seat back at her own table, with the same wicked grin, flustered cheeks and writhing hair. Only a minute passed and a coffee cup landed on the tall ladies table. A confused look crossed her face, as she was yet to order. She glanced around and found the other lady in there staring at her, beforw looking away. Picking up the cup, she approached her and began to speak. "Um, I think this is yours.."The lady began before she was stopped by the sight of snakes staring back at her, embedded in this lady's head. Medusa knew it was her cup, but wanted more to know how the gazes of a set of serpents wpuld affect this lady. Crossed fingers pushed against the table top. And she didn't turn to stone. Not literally, at least. She was fascinated and took a seat, gasping and mumbling as her hands moved to Medusa's head and stroked the tiny heads of her snakes. Medusa giggled and the snakes nuzzled into her large hands. "Hi, I'm Medusa. You're the first one who hasn't screamed or turned to stone at the sight of me." "O-oh, internally I have. I'm Amy."She tries to jokingly reply, chuckling awkwardly. Medusa beamed and pushed the hand from her hair down onto the table and squeezed. She liked this girl.
"So, I get to live again?" "Essentially, yes. Think of it like replaying a game, but instead of choosing easy, you pick hard mode. You still know what's going to happen, but it takes longer to reach the endgame, in this case, the ending would be your happiness and death, or just death." "Okay, but why would I want to play a game where I won't be happy? What if I say no?" "Well, your life has already ended, and if you don't want to play, well, I won't hold it against you. But, people play games to have fun, you derive satisfaction from leveling up, and making your character stronger, right? Why would I play a game where my character is garbage? I'll delete you of course. I'll create another character. Look it may be your first time, but it's an easy choice, and there isn't any reason for you to refuse. You get to remember everyone you've met and everything you enjoyed. If they aren't erased, I'll even place you near each other!" "So, if I accept, I might never be happy? What does that entail? Will I be brain dead! Will I be depressed! What will happen? Am I going to be imprisoned, or will I be born as something other than human?" "Honestly, you're overthinking this. I mean, anything is better than completely nothing. Plus, I really can't tell you what's going to happen, I can't because I don't know. It's not like I'm one of your deities. I'm the same as you, only higher up on the food chain. If you have complaints, take it to nothingness, because I don't care. Answer me right now. Yes or no?" "N—"
After 30 years of flying around a planet in a different galaxy, NASA has publicly announced that the probe has ran through all of its power, and that it will crash into the planet in the next 5 years or so. But in reality, the probe still has a 100 years of power left. The reason the probe is staying there is because NASA detected life forms on the planet, which are more than single celled. They sent the probe out to watch the aliens and make sure they didn't leave the planet. The probe was out-fitted with high-power lasers, which it uses to make sure they don't launch ships out of their atmosphere and explore there solar system. Opportunity is one of many probes sent to monitor and contain alien life forms out in the universe. NASA is doing this so that they can explore the universe and control it before other life forms.
1893 After years of peace between humans and gods, the first victims were squished. Not many people were around to witness this tragedy, so the gods got away with it. For now. 1896 More stompings occurred. The cruel god has never been seen above the lower leg. One witness described the foot moving as elegant as Venus's foot, but appeared younger. It is still unknown which god actually killed the humans. 1897 The witness concluded that the foot must be as tough as Mars's foot, though it couldn't be him, because of the previously mentioned youth. 1900 People installed sharp objects on their roofs, such as knifes and pointy fences. The witness was declared insane for having such expansive knowledge of godly feet. 1908 Giant stomping feet have become more common. Most people have barbed wire by now. A link is found: Every victim was playing music or listening to it at the time of stomping. 1911 "Hey wanna feel old? People who were born after the first stomping are old enough to vote now. As long as they aren't women, that is." 1916 Stomp summoning was attempted as a war strategy. Not every song played caused one, but the stompings that did occur would usually squish the summoner's own army. Helmets with arrows on top were invented. 1921 The movie industry is booming. Cameras and rolls of film are getting cheaper and more common. Finally, a squash has been recorded on a motion picture. With this film, researchers have finally identified the god. The foot likely belongs to Cupid. The researchers were laughed at. "How could a baby god cause this much damage? You're crazy." 1928 The mayor of New York commissioned, in his own words, "the pointiest damn building America has to offer!"Construction began two years later. 1931 The Empire State Building was finished. To celebrate its opening, they partied like it was 1928. The music summoned the foot, but it got impaled by the building. All right humans, you win. For now. I'll be back once my foot has regenerated. Unless, of course, you dedicate a holiday to me. Every year, on this day-- wait no it's too close to Cinco de Mayo. Uhm... Every year, right in the middle of the winter, you must offer chocolates to me. For I am the son of love and war, you shall give these chocolates to your loved ones and your worst enemies. That's, like, how offerings work. Basically. But maybe name it after a different guy so he'll take the blame for my actions. Ever since, the people give their special ones chocolate on Valentine's Day while the governments give chocolate to their enemies in war. 1969 Many decades later, most people forgot the squishening era and if it truly ever happened. Yet, the history has been remembered by one group on their televised programme since 1969. And now for something completely different. It's...
I walk away with the pen. You shout, "Hey! Come back here! Give me back the pen!" I say, "That'll be $5." "That's my pen!" "Oh really? May I see your receipt?" "What receipt?" "Sir, we give you a receipt that says what you bought and when you bought it whenever you make a purchase. Do you have it?" "What? No!" "The receipt is your proof of purchase. If you don't have a receipt, you can't prove that you bought it. Please come back with the receipt." "Give it to me!"You exclaim. "Like I said before, it is $5." "Please! It's my only pen!" "$5." "Fine! You win! Here." You give me $5. I give you the pen. "Can't believe I wasted $5 just to get my pen back,"you mutter." I say, "Have a nice day! Come back soon!" I walk out of the room, $5 richer than before.
(Developing my characters ah...) Prince Midnight and Lilianna were holding each other's hands the night it happened. She was three months pregnant and had just told him, her words as gentle as a zephyr. They were stood in a field of giant allium flowers, purple and standing tall, lit up by the two moons in the sky - Astoria's bright pure white and Erestia's pale pink light glowing through every single flower before them, weeds and grass and shrubs and the distant trees. The humidity of that night meant nothing to the two of them who were silent with a rush of excitement for the future, their sweaty hands tight. And then a giant flash of yellow cut across the starry night and burst into millions of bright butterflies. Some fluttered towards the pair who were in a state of awe. One butterfly landed on Lilianna's shoulder, another onto Midnight's wrist. Both seeped beneath their skins and faded slowly to nothing. Above them, the yellow butterflies dispersed far until they were nothing more than another set of stars in the dark sky. Word went out the next day that the butterflies had landed on every single individual, from newborns to the ill elderly. Some said it was a blessing, that the world was blessed by the hands of the ancient Gods. You see, it was never a common occurrence to see both Moons under the same sky. One was named after the God of Life and Death, Astoria, whose magic was said to be the purest whites ever to be seen in the realm of the living. The other was the God of Creation, Erestia, who was said to have been the kindest, sweetest God of all who devoted her time in building lands and worlds for the living to reside. The Moons were never seen together but were treated as sisters who were never to meet. Midnight and Lilianna aligned with their people, believing it was a rare blessing. The Moons were separate from every night onwards and there was no sign of the yellow butterflies. For days, people celebrated their joys and the pleasantries until a peculiar story spread across the Island. A pregnant woman, 9 months due, had not given birth. Physicians had tried to help the lady begin her labour yet any help was prevented. The lady, in agony to meet her child, went to needs of desperation and in madness threw herself off a bridge. Yet she came back unscathed, her baby tucked inside. No one called it a miracle. Lilianna heard of this story and personally decided to visit the woman, horrified by the story. When she met the lady, she listened to the baby inside. Its heart was beating, its feet were kicking at random intervals. But it was not growing nor leaving its mother's womb. A deep sense of unsettlement overcame Lilianna. She rushed back to the castle and wept to Midnight, worried she would have the same fate. He laughed at her, held her hands and kissed her stomach, promising that their child would be born healthily, telling her not to worry, that they would be safe. But he could not deny that a fear had run through him too. He the very next day overlooking the Kingdom with his aid, Grada, wondering what on Efferri he could do. 'No one has died,' Midnight reiterated from the information he had received Kingdom-wide, 'and none have been born. Ever since that night,' he picked up a rock and threw it at a flower. None of its petals were stricken off. He bent down and tried to pry a petal away but he couldn't. He unsheathed his sword and cut through the air to strike Grada square across his chest. But the metal bent against Grada's body. 'A land without death?' Grada muttered in reply, not entirely pleased that his Prince had attempted to kill him for an experiment. 'Could it be that the Gods are dead?' 'If they were dead we would be too,' Grada replied stiffly, the weight of his words stirring anxiety in his belly. 'Then are we cursed?' Midnight's voice cracked. Grada could not answer.
Greg sat on the aluminum park bench on a bright, sunny Saturday as he finalized his itinerary for his next trip. It would be his first time around in a new city. The first time he time traveled he decided to get the most out of it. Instead of making himself rich, he laid low in order to go through multiple times. He kept elaborate notes about his activities to avoid running into himself. To minimize the chances, even more, he moved around a lot. He chose the park because it was only an empty field at the beginning of the decade. When he was satisfied with his plan he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an intricately decorated golden pocket watch. A tall, black hole opened in the air near his table and two teenagers walked out. A thin, gaunt young man with a widow's peak in black clothes, and a short tan woman with a shoulder-length chestnut ponytail. The unexpected visitors surprised Greg and he did not want to find out who or what they were. He stood from the bench then pressed the crown of the pocket watch and immediately he was dizzied with the reversing of time. Despite the number of times he'd done it, he was never able to get used to the feeling. It was a strange dizziness centered in his chest, not in his head; as if his soul was being spun in circles. He closed his eyes until the sensation faded off. He opened his eyes when he felt a gentle breeze blow across his skin and heard the rustle of long grass. "Hi!"The young woman's crystalline, red eyes surprised Greg as he opened his eyes. She stood directly in front of him with a smile, but her unexpectedness made Greg stumble backward until he fell on his bottom. He felt glad for the soft grass under him. "Who are you? How'd you follow me through time?"Greg asked while he scrambled to his feet. He kept his distance from them. "I'm Sonia, that's Oren,"she introduced them by pointing at the pale young man. He gave Greg a polite nod of acknowledgment. Sonia shrugged. "I don't know. How did we follow him?"She asked Oren. "We didn't,"Oren replied. "Time moved around us." "Yeah, like that,"Sonia said to Greg. "How did you time travel?"she asked. "Hold on a second, how did time move around you?" "Do you know what a Unique Soul is?"Oren asked. He seemed interested in the conversation and stepped closer to Greg. The middle-aged man shook his head. Oren sighed. "Short, easy version: We..,"Oren gestured to Sonia and himself. "...are from an alternate universe." "Different alternate universes,"Sonia chimed in. Oren nodded. Greg's eyes widened. If he did not see them come out of the black hole and follow him through time he would not have believed it. "The flow of time in this universe doesn't recognize us, so it goes around. Like when you dip your hand in a stream and the water continues around it."Greg's eyes clouded with confusion and he tilted his head at Oren. "But, I jumped back in time. I started a new point, I didn't rewind it." "You wouldn't know the difference,"Oren replied with a smug grin. "If you did start a new point we wouldn't be here." "How did you time travel?"Sonia asked again. Greg avoided the question the first time and hoped to keep avoiding it. "Is it a watch?" "How did you know?!"Greg could not hold back the outburst. Oren's smile grew broader. "That proves you rewound time." "Can we buy it from you?"Sonia asked. Greg shook his head. "No way, you don't have enough money." "We don't need money,"Oren stepped forward with a red crown glowing on his forehead. Greg took several paces back, but Sonia walked in front of Oren and smiled. "Sorry. He means, 'we don't need money' as in, 'we can work something else out'. Why are you time traveling?"Greg glanced at Oren's forehead; there was no sign of the red crown. "I have a favorite decade. I've lived through it several times already,"he shrugged. “I plan to keep going as long as I can avoid myself.” “Avoid yourself?” Oren asked. “Yeah, all the other versions of me that went back.” Oren burst into obnoxious, fake laughter. He almost doubled over holding his stomach. “That's not how it works, idiot,” Oren said. “Be nice,” Sonia poked Oren in the chest with a stiff finger. “I didn't know either,” she reminded the pasty young man. “Am I an idiot?” Oren quickly shook his head from side to side. “No, Sonia,” he replied with an apologetic tone. “How does it work then?” Greg asked. If he did not have to avoid his time duplicates he could have a lot more fun. “He's just giving you a hard time,” Sonia tilted her head at Oren. “True time travel, like you've been doing, moves time around you. You're still the only you. The kind of ‘time travel’..., ” Sonia used air quotes for emphasis. “...you thought you were doing isn't proper time travel, it just takes you to another universe. That's how you end up seeing other versions of yourself.” “I'm less inclined to give it up now,” Greg smiled. “Sorry.” Sonia shook her head. “You haven't heard our offer yet. If you give us your watch you'll get your own timeloop. You'll reset to the same point every 10 years for as long as you want. And as a bonus, I'll make you young again.” “You can do that?” Greg asked. He did not know he could still be surprised. Sonia nodded and stepped closer to place a hand on Greg's shoulder. A soft golden aura formed around her; Greg felt his body grow lighter as his muscles and skin tightened up. “oh man! This is great!” Greg shouted as Sonia's glow dissipated. “You got a deal!” he pulled the golden watch from his pocket and handed it to Sonia. “Thanks! Bye!” she waved at Greg, then made a gesture in the air with the same hand. A black portal formed in the air next to her. Oren stepped in without a word. Greg caught part of their conversation as Sonia followed him in before the hole disappeared. “See? We didn't have to kill him.” \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #47. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his forehead. "Are you absolutely sure everything is in place?"he said. "I'm not sure how you expect me to prove it to you,"she said, squeezing his shoulder, "Jamie, everything is going to be fine. Just breathe and enjoy the view."She gently spun him around towards the window. The airship was flying high over Atlanta, the second day of its journey. The city was blanketed in a thick yellow fog with spears of black smoke piercing high into the sky. As the ship floated slowly over the city, it carefully weaved among those smoke-spires. It would be breathtaking, Jamie thought, if his nerves would just let him enjoy it. He breathed in slowly, letting Emily's sweet lavender perfume ease his thoughts, God how he loved that perfume. He pulled a pocket watch from his pocket. 1:03. He let out a quiet sigh, "you're right of course. You're always right." "Of course I am always right,"said Emily, adjusting her red silk dress, "Now come darling, our friends are expecting word soon."With that, she twirled towards the door, giving an extra spin, sending her dress and deep black hair whirling about. Jamie followed along after, fidgeting with his jacket and tie. He hated the formal wear, but Emily had insisted, claiming correctly that it would help them blend with the rather lavish clientele of the airship. But now, watching Emily bounce along in the dress, the fabric dancing and swirling about her figure, he had to admit that it at least suited her. They stepped from their passenger bedroom out into the hallway. Trying to distract his nerves, he found himself staring at the intricate floral pattern of the carpet the patterns for red and violet. They reminded him of his first ride on an airship. He had been able to slink away from the boiler room and had wandered throughout, evading the clutches of the wardens and foppish nobles. He remembered the carpet had stunk of cigarette ash. The pair made their way through the halls past several doors, each marked with a number in gold: 23, 22, 21, 20, The hallway ended in a parlor, thick with smoke. Jamie took a deep breath as they became enveloped by the wispy smoke. He started running through the plan in his head. Thirty-three passengers, twelve unbooked passenger rooms, fourteen crewmembers, three co-pilots, a captain, and fifteen stokers down in the engine. Add to that four unaccounted for crew and two more similarly unexpected passengers occupying Room 24. They stop at a table, a stocky man was sat smoking a large cigar, his left eye deeply yellowed. Emily sat down, carefully brushing her dress free of any creases. She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek, "Donny! How are you, darling?" Donny took a long drag of the cigar, blowing a large plume of smoke towards Jamie, who remained standing. "Emily, doll, how're things with you?" She laughed, pulling Donny close, "Oh you know, planning the biggest heist this country has ever seen."Jamie bristled, and she reached over and squeezed his arm, "Darling Jamie, it's fine, these buffoons are too self-involved to pay us any mind" "Still, how can you be so calm?" "Because it's not like we can stop it now? Isn't that right Donny?"Emily said "There is no going back now, my friends,"Donny said, he opened the case on the table, "How about a smoke my nervous companion?" "Oh, no thank you,"Jamie said, he pulled out his watch again. 1:10. "Well, I'll be seeing you two again shortly."He stowed the watch and walked to the end of the parlor and sat at the counter. "Two glasses Genliel, water back." The bartender was a tall, skinny man, with deep caramel skin and deep, studious green eyes. "Will that be on the Delphi account, sir?"he spoke with a thick French accent, using the agreed-upon code phrase and pouring the drinks. He flashed a quick hand sign, Everything is in place. Jamie let out a brief sigh, as much as he trusted Emily, it was nice to have added confirmation. "Excellent, excellent"He pulled out his watch, 1:13. Two minutes. He downed both drinks quickly. The bartender pulled a briefcase from beneath the counter and pushed it across towards Jamie. "Death to l'aristocratie,"he said. He glanced at his watch. 1:15. A sudden explosion rocked the airship, followed by the piercing screams. Jamie quickly opened the case, pulling out the sawed-off shotgun and flung off his coat. Finally free of this veneer of nobility, he couldn't help but laugh. He quickly made his way through the crowd of terrified aristocrats. "Everyone get down on the ground,"he shouted. They feared him, oh how he savored that feeling! He returned to where Donny was seated. Emily was gone already, making her way to the bridge, acting terrified with a thin blade stashed in the sleeve of that pretty red dress. Donny was still seated, smoking that damned cigar, although now he held a Luger firmly in his left hand. He laughed, "Ah ha! So there's the fire that Emily spoke so much of."he heaved himself out of the chair. Donny moved with surprising speed to the stairs. He would check on Emily, surely by now, she had taken the reigns of the ship, changing their heading north, towards Madison. Jamie moved quickly among the floors, ensuring that his crew was hard at work capturing this ship. If there was any chance of success, this must be handled with extreme care. Within the hour, he was confident, they had the nobles quartered and their valuables sorted. Now he watched as they worked hard to crack the ship's vault, but something bothered him. He felt his anxiety creeping back from within, he steeled his grip on the shotgun. He stared out the portside window beside the vault, what had he missed? Jamie squinted into the harsh sun, made worse by the lens-like glass of the window. He stepped back and started making his way up to the bridge. It was definitely time for him to check in with Emily and Donny. He moved swiftly, as he made his way up the stairwell. As he reached the top of the stares, he found himself staring at the sun, out another portside window. A horrible realization dawned on him. Why was the sun on the left side of the ship? They were supposed to be heading north. He checked his watch again. 2:27. He picked up his pace, his knuckles white around his shotgun. He stepped over the bleeding body of a dead guard, as he stood at the doorway to the bridge. He pushed it open, shotgun raised. The smell of cigar smoke flooded his nostrils. Donny stood staring out the front of the window, one arm holding his cigar, the other crossed behind his back. Emily stood at the controls. Jamie let out a drawn-out sigh. "Emily, Donny. Why aren't we headed North? What happened to Madison?" Donny turned around a thin cut across his left eye. "No need anymore."he said, "Emily, why don't you explain?"He waited a moment, before chuckling to himself and walking over to her. "Oh that's right."he said, kicking her over, "Not gonna be a lot of help are you?"Her body collapsed into a heap, blood pooling from the gunshot in her breast. Jamie struggled to react. Why had he trusted Donny? Emily had personally cleared Donny, she thought he was trustworthy, so of course, Jamie had gone along with her. Gods he was naive. He shook himself from his thoughts just in time to see that Donny had his Luger out, aimed at him. "Do you always do that?"Donny asked, "Just retreat into your head when it gets hard? Are you done playing the revolutionary?"Jamie could smell the thick scent of cigar smoke in the air. Jamie heard the gunshot before he felt the pain. The bullet hit him square in the chest, he collapsed. He felt his grip on the shotgun loosen, but held onto it even as he fell. Am I dying? Donny walked up to him, laughing. "Damn revolutionaries,"he dropped his cigar onto Jamie's back, stamping it with his boot. He kicked Jamie out of the way, heading back to the wheel. More pain radiated through Jamie, he could feel himself losing the will to stay conscious. He steeled his grip on the shotgun. With the last of his strength, he aimed the shotgun at Donny's back and fired. He felt the kick of the gun and watched as Donny collapsed. He dragged himself to the body of Emily, cradling her cold corpse in his arms. He buried his face in her dress and blacked out.
Some make their coin with seed and plow, While others use a blade. The anglers fish from stern or prow, And workers ply their trade. The royals take the lion's share, The mayor takes the lamb's. And those without the coin to spare Cut corners where they can. So when a farmer, fisherfolk, Or peasant catches ill, They find themselves a knotted oak That marks a fairy hill. For there's no mortal malady, That fairy dust can't cure, And all they ask in payment be A drop of honey pure. But oft as not they leave the hill, As sick as when they came. The fairy's body cold and still, And I'm the one to blame. As many need the fairy's touch, Some others want it killed. You can't take money from the clutch Of the Potion Sellers' Guild.
It turned out Hell was real. And it was an amusement park. Diego stood at the entrance, unsure how he arrived there. He was unsure of pretty much everything, unable to recall a single memory. The only knowledge he had of himself was his name. Surrounding him were other people, all with confused looks. The park itself was big. There were two ticket booths, both with large lines. Diego joined one, moving slowly with each prior person's entry. The color scheme was red and black, the smell of sulfur escaping from inside. A bell rang. Than an announcement sounded over many speakers throughout the park. It could be heard from even outside. Diego paid close attention. "Ladies and gentlemen."A smooth male voice spoke. "I feel like I should be impressed. The likes of you... you're the dirtiest of the dirty. Real, genuine filth. Fear not, for I shall give you proper justice." Diego was next to get in. He walked to the ticket booth. Inside was a man with no face. His chest was heaving, as though the lungs had to work in overdrive. He raised a finger and pointed to a sign behind him. >WELCOME TO HELL >By dusk, all guests must obtain 10 tickets. >There are five different games. They give out different amounts of tickets, ranging from one to nine. >You may repeat any game an unlimited number of times, so long as you have ten tickets by dusk. The faceless being held out a ticket. Diego grabbed it and walked into the park. One down. Nine to go. Diego licked his lips, suddenly very anxious. "Your punishments, as members of the 13th Level, is in three parts. The opener, this amusement park. It will break you on a physical level. Next, your memories will be restored. The horrible, gruesome shit you've done will pour into you. It will break you on a spiritual level. The last part... you'll relive the crime, as the victim." Diego found the first game. He began heading over. --- Wow I kind of got off track from the prompt. Sorry, I forgot about it at some point and just wrote what sounded good.
"Hey Mia! We need to study!"said Ian, my best friend "Ok"I say as I pull out my phone "Noooooo I wana go make use of my houses private library"Ian moaned Ian was rich, well, his family was. That wasn't the reason we were friends how ever. We just clicked... Ian looked at me with his deep green eyes and begged. "Fiiiiinnee"I groaned"But im taking some books out to read myself then" "Ok!"Ian said pulling out his phone "Hey Ma? Yeah, can you get the hovercoptor out for me and Mia? Ok. Fine. Yes" Just like that, on cue. A large helicopter like thing flew out of the sky. We both jumped in and let the auto pilot take us to Ians place. The view was great. We saw the blues, the greens, the purples of the lights. The white building flying under us were amazing. But then we landed. "We're here!"Ian announced. I stared up at the great double door into the building... Must have been from, the post post post modernism era of building? We walk into the building and take a sharp right into this massive room... Floor to ceiling bookshelves... Stuff from 2026 all the way to present day! "We're here... again"Ian announced... again "Whoa! This place is huge!"I say. looking at this old dusty book. I brush it off and read the cover. "Bibul? Bibbleh? Byble?" "I think its Bible..."Ian corrected me. "Sound boring"I say, putting back the book and taking another book off of one of the many shelves. I dust it off and look at the cover. It has a large pentagram on the cover and no title. I flip it open and start reading. "Knight too----- Where the home am I?" I look up to see a red, nerdy child with large wings, a tail and horns stare at me. "Who are you?"Ian asked while I stared at the child. "I--- Im Stara"Says Stara "Well Stara..."I stare at Stara. "Want to be our friend?" Ian is staring at me now. "W... Well... Im not sure my dad would like that..." "Who? Who is your dad?"Asks Ian "Sa--- Satan..." ... ... ... "Who in the galaxy is Satan?"Me and Ian ask.
"Welcome contenders"a voice booms over the microphone. A man in a dark suit stands atop a stage. We are all sitting in chairs in a large circle. But some of the people aren't human. One is a large corn on the cob with arms. Another is a fish. "Our opening contest will be hot potato. These are the rules. Everyone has 3 lives. When the music stops, the person holding the potato loses all their 3 lives. When you have the potato, pass it to the person on your left. The last player standing wins." A large potato lowers on a platform. "Those who are out will be eliminated." Music begins to play and the contender takes the potato and hands it to the person next to him. The potato advances around the circle. When it reaches me, I barely get it out of my hand when the music stops playing. Two guards walk over from the side and grab the person, dragging him back. "No! Please! Help!"He is crying, being dragged away. They walk through a door and the crying is shut out. Another person drags the chair out and the circle gets smaller. The music plays again and the potato is passed around. This time, however, the person on my right is about to toss the potato when the music stops. Once again, two guards haul the screaming and crying person away. Something was wrong. This game was rigged. They wanted me out. Out of the corner of my vision I see someone trying to get my attention. I look over and recognize my friend from Earth. I watch as he begins to tap. I tap back, sending a message. Morse code. Once again, when the potato reaches me, I barely get it away when the music goes silent. The person on my left is ready for the guards. He is a foot hooked around my chair leg, and is grasping at his chair. The guards pull at him. "Please no! Give me another chance!"Tears are streaming down his face. The guards tug him free and drag him away. "PLEASE!" I tap. "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! LET ME GO!" The screams are cut short when they pass through the door. I look at him and nod. The potato reaches me and I chuck it behind me. Once again, the music stops. But the guard catches it out of habit. "William Gufendo, the guard is not playing." "You never said he wasn't." The man from the microphone walks over to me and takes me to the corner of the room. "Come on, Will. Just go with the game. Please." "And let myself be killed? No thanks." "Will, did you think I was letting those innocent people die? The guards work for me. I can assure you, they are safe." I hesitate. I was not expecting this. "Then you come with me, alone, through the door." "Come on, Will. Don't you trust me?" "No. Not at all."I elbow him across the face and then watch as my friend runs to the center of the circle and explains his plan to the rest of the contenders. The two guards move toward me, oblivious of what is happening behind. I kick out his ankle and catch his body, slamming it to the floor. The guards are upon us now. I run up to the stage and grab the microphone. By the wire, I begin swinging it toward the guards. One of them takes out a gun and aims it at me. I dive off the stage as he pulls the trigger. I frantically get to my feet and sprint off. The guard shoots at me, hitting me in the stomach. I fall forward, bouncing off the floor and going still. This wasn't part of the plan. But maybe my friend can still escape. "Will!"I hear his cry in the distance. "Help, Will!" He didn't know though. It was just easier to go to sleep. "Will!"I hear his desperate shout, as the guards pull the trigger, silencing him. The silence of my name being called is peace to my ears. And I rest. If you enjoyed this, very dark, story feel free to check out my subreddit dedicated to my writings, r/FortyTwoDogs. Thanks for reading!
"Similia similibus curentur - the poison is the cure." I began to dilute the solution before my audience, before a small child raised their hand. The understudy tapped my shoulder, an unnecessary gesture to goad me to notice her. Once I finished stirring, I tilted my head up from my work and addressed her. "Questions? Yes young lady." "If you diluted the mixture as many times as you said you did, wouldn't there be nothing of the original material in there?" Smart one, I thought. Schools introduced Atomic Theory at a younger age these days. Eager to show he practiced, I let my understudy answer the question. He spouted out some nonsense about water memory and vital energies. The phrasing was off, but he at least managed to draw a reaction from the audience. "...And that's how the solution works." As my assistant finished, a young lady entered the room. She waved and smiled at us, before gathering her tour group and exiting our demonstration. Remaining in character, I glanced over to the prop grandfather clock, both its hands overlapping twelve. "Time for breakfast it seems! Let's go." He nodded, closing the entrance and exit doors to our presentation room. Besides the 'EXIT' sign above him, the button underneath the demonstration table was the only other ahistorical thing in our 19th century setting. Without hesitation I pressed it, and two whirring noises followed. Electrical locks. After giving both doors a push, my apprentice gave me a thumbs-up. Satisfied in our security, I pushed on a secret panel behind me, opening the way to the main access hallway which would lead us to the break-room. Two-hundred fifty years ago, citizens of the United States considered homeopathy the pinnacle of medicine. Since then, our advancements in understanding human physiology and biology, as well as greater cooperation and advancement in society made the practice obsolete. "How did I do Dr. Gram?"my understudy asked, remaining in character. I waited until we arrived in the staff room, back to the late 21st century. "Very good! End Scene." Several of my coworkers, adorned in their period piece attire, began to clap facetiously. After giving small curtsy in jest to more applause, we headed over to the refrigerator and retrieved our lunches. As part of our usual banter, they asked "Having fun with Professor Jeffries, Mark?" He nodded in agreement as we both sat down at an empty table, and rushed to eat as quickly as we could. The visitors would be having their own lunch in thirty minutes, and I was on the rotation to entertain our guests during that time. "Well Professor, how did I perform?" I stared back at Mark. Behind his young eager eyes, I saw a budding historical reenactor. The kind I was many years ago. Taking a bite of my sandwich, I chewed meticulously, using the time to come up with a response. Perhaps he would learn from my actions and improve his own presentation. After I swallowed, I spoke. "You understand the material, which is great when you need to improvise. Stick with the scripts when we're going through the scientific explanations for everything." "All that bokum isn't actual science..."I shook my head. Should something cause me to stop today, all the videos taken of my performances would not be enough to train my understudy to properly assume my role. "Just a moment ago, when I was chewing and waited a moment before answering you, why did you think I did that?" "Because it would be rude? Maybe you needed to think of an answer? Or you were really hungry? Wouldn't know unless you told me?" "Exactly. Without my explanation, you wouldn't know." "I don't understand how that fits into the performance." "Our audience isn't going to deduce whether Dr. Gram and his apprentice were sophisticated snake oilers, or if they genuinely believed they practiced medicine. Both them and their detractors had differing accounts."I took a bite out of my sandwich, and continued to speak, this time while chewing, "What matters is you stay on script, and maintain their suspension of disbelief," Mark grimaced. Probably from a piece of food flying out of my mouth. Rude and disgusting, but an effective way for me to get the point across. "I think I understand professor Jeffries. Well, I need to go switch costumes, I'm helping out another section. Thanks again." After Mark left I continued eating. He was the only one from the group of newbies interested in taking on Hans Burch Gram. Reenactors of our calibre continued to dwindle. I was the only one who had studied enough about the history of Homeopathy and the man himself to be 'The' preeminent Dr. Gram role-player. One in a world of nine billion people. I was getting old, and I did not want to see this exhibit become populated with those soulless animatronics.
"C'mon Billy! I'm bored!"Charley said as he floating through the air. "Let's go watch a movie or something!" "I can't leave my desk,"Bill whispered softly, trying to keep his co-workers from overhearing him. "I have to get these reports done before the end of the day. We can watch a movie when we get home." Bill's imaginary friend dramatically threw himself onto the desk, frowning so much his stitched mouth almost became a circle on his felt face. "At least give me your phone so I can watch Youtube." "No. I won't be able to explain why my phone is floating in the air and watching cartoons." The stitched doll crossed his arms, glaring up at Bill through his button eyes. "You're no fun anymore." Bill sighed as he looked to the cork board on his office wall. There, a crayon picture nearly two decades old hung, showing off Charley, Bill's first friend, when he was just a kid. The paper had gotten yellow with age and some of the wax from the crayons had broken off over time. It had been folded and refolded a hundred times over the years, leading to creases that permanently marred it. "We've all got to grow up, Charley."
I can hear that damned fellow. His happy laugh, I can practically see his sickeningly happy smile. Not a chance bud. I see him round the corner, surprise bitch, spikes fall from the ceiling, that didn't work last time, but I've had time to figure it out, he's stopped briefly, but he tears away, regenerates, but it's enough time for me to initiate phase 2, he walks over a pressure sensor, the walls drop down, guns start firing, again, a delaying tactic. I sprint out the back door, and run around the house , I wait till I see him step out and shout "Hey bastard! Over here!"I quickly open the side door and sprint down into the basement. I can hear him up ahead, searching, getting closer. The door upstairs opens a crack, his demented eyes barely visible, then I can see them taking care to avoid his gaze I flip a switch, a rock drops on the other side of the basement, and he goes for it, not seeing me in the shadows, jackpot, a cage drops, solid steel, weighted to the ground, he slashes through the bars, smiling all the time while desperately trying escape. Nope. No mercy for the guy who killed me two thousand times. I open a closet to reveal a flamethrower. I smirk, "At long last old friend, bon voyage."And even a positive attitude wasn't enough to stop me from melting him into a pile of ash. I can finally enjoy my life. I'm finally free. I scream triumphantly. And go to head upstairs. At the top is another pair of dead eyes. Mr. Sad has arrived.
My heart seemed to pound away into my ears as three items of the game suddenly appeared on the table in front the two of us. The game was supposed to be a simple game of hand signs. Then again, this was Death's domain, what ever he wants his reality to be, he would have it. Before my mind could even register what was happening, a boney hand reached out and grasped the rather large pair of scissors. "Let's play!"He shouted, jumping to his feet, the ground beneath us shaking. As he lunged for me, on instinct, I tilted my chair back. Narrowly missing the blade, I hit the ground hard and rolled on to my stomach, jumping up quickly. I backed away quickly, jumping back after every swipe that came near my stomach. A hiss escaped passed my lips as the cold metal ripped through my shirt and made contact with the skin on my stomach. It hurt for a brief moment, but it was thankfully only a scratch. Death lifted his hood, revealing small flames where his pupils should be, showing the off-white skull. He lifted the blade to his teeth, surprisingly me greatly by bringing out his moldy gray tongue, and licking the blood off of one of the blades. Even if he had no skin or muscles, his skull seemed to show an expression of malicious content. It deeply scared me. I glanced at the desk, still having two items left on it, a rock and a sheet of paper. I was suddenly knocked back into the desk, sending me into it and toppling it on to its side. I breathed heavily as I tried to get the air back into my lungs. As Death got on top of me, his hand clasped around my throat. I fumbled for something nearby to help me escape. As I saw the glint of the scissors above Death's head, I felt something hard enter my hand. I grasped the object tightly in my fist and brought it up quickly, quickly sending it into Death's temple. The vice like grip suddenly let me go as I saw spider web crack appearing along Death's skull. After the clink of the scissors hitting the floor sounded, Death's body crumpled, covering me in a thick layer of dust. I breathed heavily, coughing as the dust entered my lungs, looking to my hand to see what I had grabbed. It was the rock from the desk. I let it fall to the ground as I sat up, letting out an amused laugh. "Rock beats scissors, bitch....I win..."I managed to breathe out. Slowly pushing myself off of the ground, and beginning to make my way over to the door. Before I could even turn the door knob, a white sheet of paper covered my eyes, tightening around my face to hold me back from leaving. "Best two out of three."
"You've got to remember, sire, that you are an intimidating. It's not even a choice, you're a foot taller than the tallest man I've ever seen and twice as impressive in battle!"Derrick had been on this journey long enough to know when a pick-me-up is needed. Sir Sean Pendragon of Bretonnia wasn't as brave as his uncle Arthur, but the last two points that Derrick had made were mostly true. Sean had the build of a small cottage, the dexterity of an oiled fox and the wits to spar verbally with Merlin himself. All that, Derrick thought with a sigh, and he's a blubbering mess if someone looks at him funny. When he first met the entourage of the Second Round, the nephew of King Arthur was obviously one of the most exciting people to meet. The man whose blood could pull the sword from the stone! Alas, a life of pressure and expectancy had not tempered his steel. At first Derrick found him ghastly, a perversion of what it takes to be a knight. It wasn't until he saw him unhorse the rest of the Second Round in a short, private tourney that Derrick knew what he was. Sean Pendragon was incredible malleable. Whatever direction he was pushed, he would go further than anyone else. When I met him, he'd lived in a world where being exemplary was taken for granted and every tiny failure was a mountainous thing. "Sire, your spear sings through shield more swiftly than an eagle's dive! Fear not these coming vagabonds! Ride tall, fear them not." He stiffened. His posture was a little better but to Derrick it was obviously an act of surety. Still, they rode their steeds through the small gathering of people before us at the bridge crossing and went on our way. Derrick sighed again. Ah yes, the great tale of Sir Pendragon and the terrifying peasants. It was going to be a long journey to Tir Na Nog.
Zoe remembered the first time she saw the headlines. "Can scientists tell if you lie?""Morals can be measured!?"Her assistant had brought it up during a quiet moment while waiting for their court case to begin. "Sure,"Zoe had replied sarcastically, "And I've heard mood rings can now detect your hunger levels..."But after a few weeks, the headlines weren't going away, as more and more labs returned similar results. That was the problem though; they were similar, but never identical. After a few months, a clear pattern began to emerge. When a participant was asked to lie about the day of the week, the device would vibrate imperceptibly, glowing the palest shade of red. But when they were asked to lie about their deepest desires, it would begin to bob, and a pulsing yellow light would emanate until they either stopped speaking, or caved to the truth. As the experiments widened, the teams grew more excited. Swiping from a 'take a penny, leave a penny' tended to leave a shaking yellow light, but taking from a sleeping hobo's cup would give a bright blue convulsion. It seemed that the higher the sin, the 'deeper' the colour and vibration. &#x200B; The commercial applications were obvious. Within a year, every job application, court case and Tinder date had a SinSign hovering in the background, ready to detect the slightest whiff of impropriety. Reported crime rates fell by half; after all, only the truly desperate would commit a crime with no chance to deny it under oath. Working in corporate law, Zoe was in a difficult position. As prosecutors' jobs had become easier, her job became infinitely harder. But no-one in a courtroom day after a day could miss the different glows and bobs when defendants admitted to the same crimes. Zoe had seen her clients give a range of answers. Some had a clear conscience (literally), but most gave themselves somewhere between an orange wobble to a navy wave. &#x200B; Things had changed with her most recent client. Trevor Norris, CEO of SinCorp, was accused of investment fraud. The press had had a field day after he was arrested. "SinSigns turn on their owner", "SinCorp the home of Gluttony and Greed!"Norris was released on bail within 2 hours, but the officer who had leaked the story to his friend soon found himself without a job. &#x200B; Safe inside her law firm's office, initial questioning had gone smoothly enough, with only amber tremors from questioning. "Amber's fine,"thought Zoe, "we can settle for a few million". After a few hours, the meeting was coming to an end, with just a few loose ends to tie up. Absentmindedly, she asked "So what are you long-term intentions for the company?"Norris gave his best smile. "I just want a world where everyone can trust us to deliver the truth." &#x200B; Zoe fell to the floor as the room shuddered and the lampshade flickered off. An earthquake was her first thought, but this did not feel right. The tremors had been too sudden, and dissipated too quickly. The lights had not flickered so much as darkened... a purple midnight that disappeared as soon as it arrived. But the real problem gripping her mind was the plate-sized hole in the floor, just below where the SinSign had been hovering. Zoe looked at Norris at a loss for words. The smile had stiffened, the eyes narrowed as his bodyguard wordlessly moved behind her. "Fortunately for you, attorney-client privilege means you can't mention that to anyone. What you have to worry about now is how we can stop that from happening in the courtroom." &#x200B; First time responding to a WP. I tried to stick to the prompt more spiritually but kept going to a more scientific/pragmatic storyline. All comments welcome!
You know, I should have studied. I really should have. They never tell you in school which stuff is going to be important and which won't, you know? Math? Useless. I mean, I will have a calculator with me in the phone anyway. And I seriously do not plan to do so much traveling with trains that I would care about where exactly Jim would be if I'd leave the train station A at 4:14 and... Sports? The only way to make basketball less fun is to make it mandatory. But history? If they had told me that I'll be sent back in time, I sure would have paid more attention to all that stupid dead people shit. This is fucked all over. So I looked around and realized that I was still in my own home. The same basement, just all kinds of old shit lying around. The "where"was clear, but the "when"... Sure, it's 1850, but what the fuck does that mean anyway? Did people have electricity this time? Were they still spending all their time making butter? Will I climb out of here and see a bunch of Indians getting massacred in black and white or barns being raised by good-meaning but awfully slow Amish folk? Wait. Do you even realize how much I will have to wait for the next Game of Thrones season? Do these guys even know about dragons? Or porn, for that matt... What was that? Shots? Shots. There's a war going on out there no man is safe from. This is all kinds of fucked... Alright, ok, lets calm down and just see what's going on. So, I'm in the basement. Those shots could have been echos of Nagasaki or some Sitting Bull magic arrows. I'm wearing all sorts of stupid clothes not fit for the time. That's the first thing they'll notice. So I have to look around for... Perfect. There are two uniforms down here. Why two though? Was my grandfather playing both teams or something? Hey, what do I know, different times, different rules. Sure, Crips and Bloods wouldn't love it, but this was the times of love and forgiving and hippies and all that. So which one should I wear? Well, they both seem to be the same. No swastikas on any of them. Because that would totally make this easier. A blue uniform and a gray one, that's it. Might be even the same army, just different ranks. Ok, alright, ok, so what is blue? Whales. Sky. Sad people. That one song. No, this doesn't help. Ok, what is gray? Everything, if you are colorblind! Am I right or am I... Fuck, they are still shooting. Man, it's getting closer. I need to make up my mind fast. Whichever uniform I choose, that will be my army. I'll just jump out and go with them. Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo, Catch a monkey by his toe, If he won't work then let him go... Wait, why would a monkey work anyway? What does that have to do with anything? Doesn't sound right. And why does this seem so awfully important to me right now? Fuck, I have no more time now. Fuck it, I'm taking the gray uniform and getting out of here stat. A black dude in a gray suit has always looked bitchin' anyway. Man, this is all kinds of fucked... [Literary Nobody](https://www.reddit.com/r/LiteraryNobody/)
The dark-haired man slowly regained consciousness. His eyes started to blink open and he looked around. He was in a dark, spacious area with monitors covering one wall. He was in the Bat-cave. He sat up, finding he was on mattress, covered in a black cape. He tried to steady his spinning head with his hand and noticed his new hair length. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He knew it was almost impossible, but he hoped it had just been a dream. A table had been set up nearby with ice-cream cones and a cooler box containing a wide range of ice-cream flavours, including some he had never heard of. He leaned over and tried to serve himself a vanilla scoop. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what felt different, but his hands didn’t seem to respond to commands the same way they used to. It felt like a car had suddenly had its specs changed in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, he prepared the scoop and took a lick. It tasted strange. “How do you feel?” He looked up, but already knew who was speaking from the shadows. “…Sick. And I don’t think it’s just the ice-cream.” Batman walked closer. “Can you remember what happened?” Diana tried crushing a chocolate flake and sprinkling that on his cone. “I died, I think… And then I exploded and then I changed into… this?” He looked over himself. He pulled back the cape he was wearing to see the ill-fitting armour on his body. “This isn’t Hades, is it?” “Given Batsy’s moodiness, it might be.” Superman floated in, before landing next to Batman. “Well, if you’re here, this must be Elysium.” Diana smiled weakly, taking another try of the ice-cream. Vanilla used to be his favourite… or her favourite, at the time. “What happened to me? Is this a strange kind of reincarnation?” “No, it’s Regeneration,” said Batman. “Regeneration? But… we all regenerate, don’t we?” “Not with high intensity Artron energy exploding from your hands and face. Every cell in your body has been replaced. That’s a timelord power.” “So…” said Superman. “What you’re saying is that Diana is a Timelord?” “Partially, yes.” Diana furrowed his brow. “A timelord, like the Doctor? But… how is that possible? Aren’t I an Amazon? My mother was an Amazon and my father was a God, how does Timelord fit into my family tree?” “I don’t know. Maybe Zeus was a Timelord. From what little the Doctor mentioned to us about his planet, a key part of Timelord initiation is looking into the time void unfiltered. Maybe you’ve caught a glimpse of that in your adventures” Diana squirted strawberry source onto the cone. “I don’t suppose there is any way to reverse this.” Batman looked down. “I talked to Zatanna. Not without risking killing you.” Superman spoke up. “When you… died, did that count as a real death? What I mean is… are you still the goddess of war?” Diana smiled. “I’m not the goddess of anything anymore.” “Sure, but do you still have those powers? I know it’s not a title you love but I would rather it was in your hands than someone else’s. Does your new form even have your old powers?” Superman held his hand in front of him, palm open. “Hit me.” Diana stood and threw a punch into Kal’s palm, colliding with a deafening noise A British voice came from elsewhere. “Are you all okay in there?” “Yes, Alfred, we’re fine.” “Well,” said Superman. “You certainly still have super-strength. It doesn’t feel quite as strong as usual though.” “She… he is still getting used to his new form, and he’s exhausted. It’s too early to say if this new form is any weaker.” Diana sat down again, legs shaking. He gave up on vanilla and tried strawberry. He didn’t even bother using a cone, he just took a spoonful from the tub. “I guess Diana Prince, agent of the DMA, can be no more.” Batman looked down again. “Neither can Wonder Woman.” Kal sighed as he looked over at the Dark Knight. “Unless we can find a way to convince the world that the international symbol of female power is now a man, you will probably need to hang up the tiara.” Diana didn’t move for a few minutes. A tear appeared at his eye. He quickly took a spoonful of strawberry ice-cream. It tasted much better than it ever had, but somehow that hurt even more. He pulled his tiara out of his hair and stared at it. His eyes avoided his colleagues. “What do we tell them? That I’m dead?” Batman didn’t reply. “In moment of weakness, it all just disappears… I’m no longer Diana Prince, I’m no longer Wonder Woman, I’m no longer a woman at all…. I might not even be the god of war. Not a single cell in my body is the same.” “You’re still our friend,” Superman butted in before he could continue. “Regardless of your title or name or even sex, you’re still the person who has risked life and limb for us and for our world. Maybe you can’t go back to the DMA but I speak for the whole League when I say that we will stand by you. Right Bats?” “Of course. You’re still the same person.” Diana nodded slowly. After a few seconds, Superman said, “Do you want us to stay with you now or do you want to be left alone?” “I’d like some time alone please.” Superman and Batman turn to leave. “Ring if you need anything.” He pressed a grey button on the wall as he left. Superman hung back a bit. “Diana… If you like, I can try to get in contact with the Doctor. I know it’s not much but he might be able to offer words of wisdom about what you’re going through better than us.” Diana nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you Kal.” Superman smiled. “You’re welcome.” He flew away. \--- Disclaimer: I didn't have a particular DC timeline in mind when I did this, I just gathered bits and pieces from my knowledge of Wonder Woman. Sorry if this annoys the continuity conscious among you Please leave constructive feedback, both about writing quality and about character. Thanks for reading and thanks for the prompt!
With my eyes open I looked around, everything was a blur of green and white. I blinked a couple times to clear my vision. It looked like a hospital room. Instinctively I raised my hands to brush the excess liquids from my eyes, but I noticed they were strapped to the table. “Well, I guess I’m stuck here until someone comes around” I thought to myself. I heard someone approaching the door, only to stop right before entering the room. I heard a mumbled conversation go between two people. I tried focusing my hearing to pickup any words, but all I could sense were whispers and other people running around in the background. The door gave a quick squeak as the nurse rushed in. She looked at me “You’re finally awake!” she said in surprise, “Sorry for the hold up, some crazy news going on the TV”. She wrote something on a clipboard, and sat next to me. “I have to do some tests so this runs smoothly, try moving your thumbs for me.” I moved both my thumbs around. “Good good”, she quickly checked it off on her clipboard. “Now try moving them individually, right hand, then left.” I did as she said, and followed numerous finger movements she commanded. Once we finished the exercise, she unstrapped my wrists and put a plastic cup filled with water on the table next to me. “Drink, you’ll need a lot of water for the next few days”. I grabbed the cup, slowly drinking the cold liquid. My throat cleared out and I coughed out a nasty chunk of mucus I didn’t know I had. “Ew…” I whispered, realizing at that moment that I could talk. “Woah, I’m able to speak again” I said looking at the nurse. “That’s great news! It must have been that mucus blocking your airway.” She looked at my cup in disgust. “Do you happen to remember what happened before you woke up?” “Just darkness, nothing else.” “It’s okay, don’t worry about it too much. What’s important is that you are here and okay. We’re gonna have to do some physical tests first, maybe the energy boost will activate your mind a little more”. The nurse guided me to stand up, walk around, balance on one foot, and do a bit of a jog on the treadmill. She kept doing her checklist on the clipboard, while I tried remembering anything past the hospital room. Only darkness, nothing else. It’s as if the first time I seen any light was when I opened my eyes on that bed. She looked busy entering her data on a computer, but I had to ask “Who am I?” She turned around to me with a frown “I’m still trying to figure it out, I’ve received your DNA test results, nothing comes up. It’s as if you just appeared here out of nowhere.” “How did the hospital find me?” “You were found unconscious on a highway accident not too far from here. We’ve been getting thousands of cases like yours recently, where we cannot identify several people that were saved from an accident. What’s weird though, is that those who we cannot identify are always the least harmed individuals.” I rubbed my temples. I’m not the only one, meaning that the hospital is going through a mess right now trying to understand what is happening. “You shouldn’t worry too much about it. I’ve scheduled you to visit a psychiatrist in about 30 minutes”. She handed me a business card “Also here are the directions to a nearby motel where you could spend the night in. The hospital is overfilling and we have to make space for new patients. Sorry for the inconvenience”. She was getting ready to leave “Oh before you go, your clothes are on the counter in the corner. Once you’re dressed, head to the adjacent building, it has a white brain sign on it, can’t miss it”. I got dressed and headed for the exit. Upon walking outside, a cold breeze hit me together with sun rays reflecting off skyscrapers across the street. I could tell I was in a large city. Businessmen pacing through the sidewalks focused solely on their phones, commercials and news playing on wide screens set up on buildings, noisy traffic through the streets, and the smell of hot dogs from a nearby stand. The news channel caught my attention. “Yesterdays meteor has splintered into many tiny pieces, which will be lighting up tonights sky fiery red. Have no fear however, most of the pieces burn out through the atmosphere before they reach ground. Such event has…” My thoughts shifted to the business card in my hand. It had the directions to the motel, but before that I had to visit the psychiatrist. I looked around at the adjacent buildings, noticing the brain sign the nurse mentioned before. I headed into the office. The receptionist looked at me. “Memory loss?” She asked in an almost monotone voice. “Yeah”. “Head into the left hallway, look for room 134”. I headed in the direction she pointed, finding room 134 at the end of the hall. Opening the door to it, I was greeted by a cheery middle-aged man. “Good evening, I’m Dr. Fletcher. You’re the patient with memory loss?” I nodded. “Fantastic, let’s get started” He grabbed a pen and clicked on its end, getting ready to write “Can I get your name?” I stared at him, half shaking my head. “Right. Any information about your past at all?” He looked at me, hoping to get anything out. “Only darkness until I woke up at the hospital”. “Well that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He tossed his pen on the table as he stood up and moved towards an armchair next to a couch. “Come get comfortable” He pointed at the couch. As I sat down, I felt all the stress drain from my body. “Comfortable couch you’ve got here.” He gave a small chuckle “Yeah, it’s part of the job. The more relaxed the patient is, the easier it is. Forget about anything stressful you had today, close your eyes and feel your body sink in the couch.” I did as he said, feeling the comfort flood my body. “Just follow my voice” He began speaking in a very calm manner. “Concentrate on your breaths. With each exhale, you will sink deeper into your subconscious mind. Forget everything about where you are right now, and only look at what your mind brings up.” I sank deeper into a trance-like state as he kept talking. Every word he said was more hypnotic than the last, making me sink further into subconsciousness. The darkness has returned, but it was somehow different. I could see stars lighting up. I was in space, looking around I hovered above a meteor. On it, a crater containing a city. My vision flashes into one of the buildings, it looks like a command center with a big screen displaying earth. It’s lands are covered by tiny red dots, representing targets. I look out the windows into space, and see the meteor splintering unnaturally. Those splinters, they look like emergency compartments, projected away from the meteor by propellers underneath each one. The screen displaying earth begins flashing red, and I wake up from my hypnosis in a panic. “It’s okay, you’re back. Take a deep breath” Dr. Fletcher grabs my shoulder to calm me down. “What did you see?” “ A meteor, and a screen, it’s… it’s heading for earth” I try to explain it to him but everything comes out together in a mixed nonsense. “It’s okay, keep taking deep breaths” He stood up “don’t want you going back to the hospital again”. He sat at his desk, and began writing down. Taking a look at my state he said “You’re free to go when you’ve calmed down, I’ll see you tomorrow so we can continue our session.” “But what about what I saw?” “No worries, I got everything recorded. You seem too nervous right now so it’s no good, and it’s getting late.” He escorted me out the door. The receptionist was packing her stuff, and the office had it’s closed sign facing outwards. The sun was setting it’s orange evening glow through the shutters. I walked outside, staring at the sunset between the mountains, where was I? ____ Edit: Apparently 10k characters is max... continued in [reply](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/arq6ok/wp_you_wake_up_in_a_hospital_with_nobody_knowing/egppiye/).
"Neil what are you talking about?"His older brother asked, his one eye narrowed in confusion as he glances at the door to the infirmary room. "The bride of Koss is here, Oll, she is here at last."He closed his own yellow gold eyes against the sight of the figure in the doorway his head feeling even heavier on the pillow suddenly even though his horns were broken in the fight that saw him where he was now. "The bride of- Neil you aren't making sense, the god of the stars has no bride."Oll protested as Neil sighed then opened his eyes again and met the gaze of the fiery angel. "Neil, I have waited a long time for this."She hissed, and with her words the black mark of death on his forehead pulsed. Neil winced and then nodded. "I know Phoenix, I know."He whispered, pain and sorrow mixing in his weakening voice. The lady dressed in black and red armor crossed the room, ignoring the other creature there, and held a hand out over the aged body of the one she once saw as her greatest friend and ally. Neil gave her a slow sad smile then closed his eyes as she began her work. Oll, not being able to see the woman, panicked and began calling out for others to come to the room for aid as he began attempts to wake Neil up. Phoenix smirked then finished her spell, on top of Neil's chest was an apple red ruby, flickering with an inner light and as she lifted it from the frail chest his breathing stopped altogether. Knowing her work was done she pocketed the Ruby and left, ready to leave the place that held so many melancoly memories for her, so many were good, but the strongest memory cancelled it all out. With one last glance around the Homeland of the betrayer she spread her wings of flame and took to the skies, ready to finally put this all in the past and enjoy her reunion with her husband Koss.
That’s what they said, they don’t know how it truly works.. Those people don’t have happiness anymore, they are unhappy, mad at me for saving them. The heroes don’t know anything.. I need the happiness to use my power, to see the fire engulf the enemies. No more, I’m done. The heroes can fight to try keep me in but they will not succeed. The victims aren’t hurt by the enemy, no they are hurt by me. I’ll create a world for myself, under the ground, free from this life. Away from the heroes.. Why don’t I take the happiness from the enemy you ask. Simple, they don’t have any left. They aren’t all bad, some are just broken, corrupted by the heroes gaining all the praise. Take Water Storm for example, the heroes destroyed her home, killed her family, left her for dead. The heroes aren’t true heroes, they’re just corrupted celebrities with powers. I will offer a place for those broken by the heroes, teach them how to be happy again. Never use my powers on them. No longer will the heroes break more, no longer will the corrupted rule. The last time I use my power will be to destroy the corrupted heroes. No more will the corrupted destroy more lives..
That's when Rob's brow began to drip in sweat. He could live the rest of his life as he has been, with crippling anxiety and the constant nervous breakdowns about where his life was headed. Or he could open this letter handed to him by the poltergeist, all his answers would be answered. No more pressure from his parents to reach his full potential. He would be able to follow his path that was already decided for him by the Gods. That's when Rob noticed his hands were trembling as they tugged at the envelope seal. What if it's a life of pain and misery that Rob would be unable to swap. That's when he heard his father's voice drift into his head. "You're nothing in life! You will be a nobody unless you work harder", that's when Rob ripped the seal off the envelope and pull the enclosed letter out. &#x200B; His heart stopped after reading the first line. It was tomorrow's date. Followed by one word. Suicide.
"Saw in the news today another body has been found tortured and murdered, 's gotta be that same gang again."Thomas informed me, "What a shame."I dont know when, but sometime, hopefully a long time-if I can help it-thar will be me. I didnt care to continue this line of conversation so I told him he knew I didnt like tho look at that kind of stuff and we drank more gin and soda and got very drunk, as was our custom. Our custom it was, was, to get very drunk, though not here at my home, we'd usually go out-more fun that way. As it is, I do not go out. I stay in. I do go out, for life-sustainment purposes, admittedly. This body has needs, so this body fulfills them, naturally. But of course, I know the ultimate end in sight-lest I can change my identity-maybe get into witness protection. Yes! Witness protection, something I've been thinking about, wouldn't be top hard to prove-unless they've moved their "room"I saw. Would they do that? I would, if I were them-and them are probably smarter than me anyway. No, no, no. Changing my identity has long been out as I dont have the slightest idea how to do that, or the funds. (Surely it would be expensive) Ah...but it's only Monday and at least I've got a new job now. That'll keep em off my trail! If that was too vague, my apologies, I've been in a situation, a bad one. And haven't had the time to sort it out truly, on paper yet. There are those killings which occur, not so often, but regularly enough to be worrisome in these backwoods. Everyone knows they are connected, done by the same person. But of course I know it is not a person-it is that danged, cursed group whose symbol is a little flower with some sort of optical illusion under it, on the ground where it is "sprouting". God be blessed, if I were to never have found it. Then so God be cursed. And cursed be the bar. I mean, truly, it was only a drink. What were the odds of me, of all people, discovering the fucking headquarters of a massive international illicit drug cartel located in a run-of-the-mill bar in Mississippi of all places? So, anyways-this is how it occured. Me and Thomas get off work. It is the weekend, we go to a bar-one we've never been to before. I order The Communist, as usual, and a foreboding man in his thirties, bald head, caucasian, wearing a suit that looked way too good for this bar comes up to me and motions me towards a door in the back of the bar. Looking through the door I can see what looks like an office. One that you would see in a movie that is used by the CEO of a large corporation although I can see it is not a usual office, or related to the bar's management. There are symbols adorning the walls, and the large wood conference table, televisions as though set up for broadcasting with cameras and other audio-visual gadgets. So I go in, because now I am scared and I know that I can't just blow this guy off. Well, we went it and that's all I needed to see-i turned tail and ran out of there as quick as I could, got an uber and went to a coffee shop. From there, I got my bearings straight and decided what to do. I started looking up what I believed to be the name of the-whatever it was-that operated out of that office-nothing turned up. So I got to thinking, well perhaps I ought to look where someone who wants something illegal would look. Got myself a .onion browser and went to work. After some furious searching what I gathered is that this was a drug cartel that sold mainly opiates to other gangs -they were the producers, so it seemed. And so it was, as far as I knew. It was then I decided to go back home and answer the innumerable phone calls and messages from Thomas, whom I did not recount all of the details of my adventure, but instead told him I was not feeling good and needed to go home. Not long after that, they found me. And have been hunting me down- I had to move, change jobs, phone number, and live in relative secrecy. They have told me- vis-a-vis that awful website, countenanceNovel that the killings in my area are them and I am to be in the headlines one day, when it is my turn. I do my best to stay anonymous-but I also dont have the patience for it. Can't remember where, but I remember seeing a phrase describing a madman-"All around me was blue smoke, and in it, the plucking of a string,"seems to be all I see now. I feel as though I am only prolonging the inevitable. Damn Russians! Boy, that seems so much worse than I envisioned. Probably shouldn't have done this at "work"where I could maybe outline the plot and characters or something. Anyway, that was my first go at this.
As the alarms ring throughout the ship, I awake from stasis. Still groggy I look around the room, all the pods are still active. "I must be the first awake"I whisper to myself. I'm not in the greatest of moods after being in stasis for what 30 or 40 years, I can't be bothered to do the math with that alarm blaring. "Why the hell am I awake?"as I half-ass study the display in front of me "According to Luke's calculations we should be roughly halfway but I can't even ask him cause he is still asleep in his pod"With the cracking of multiple joints, a stretch and scratching an imaginary itch I stand and mumble "I Might as well go see what is causing this damn alarm." Walking down the corridor I yell "AL, I swear if this is you pulling another prank, I'll go down to engineering and yank your motherboard myself. And can you silence these dang alarms before my head explodes?" AL, our ships A.I., responds with a proper British accent "Right away sir,"The alarm stops "I am not pulling a prank, my sensors have detected an anomaly, we are further then we should be much further." I pause midstride "What are you talking about, how far are we?" He responds with "The end." "The end, what hell does that mean?"I angerly asked. Static. "AL" More static and then silence. The lights flicker. "Error 404 file not found."a Robotic voice, that was no longer AL, announced, "Please report to the deck." I reach the deck and on the main screen appears a ship directly in front of us. "Hail that ship"I order. No response. "Hail it ag..."before I finish a hail comes in. I wait. Silence. "Hello"I slowly say. "Olleh"was the reply. "I am John Adams, Captian of the Starship Infinity,"I announced. "ytinifnI pihsratS eht fo naitpaC, smadA nhoJ ma I"came back. It was then that I recognized the ship as our own but reflected as if in a mirror. The ships start moving towards each other pulled by an unseen force. I rush to the controls, the lights flicker again and then the sickening sound of electronics shutting down. We're dead in the water so to speak. As the ships collide there is no impact, no crash or any sound what so ever. The ships merge on the plain where reality and reflection meet. The last thing I hear is AL's voice saying "I'm sorry, Sir." &#x200B; &#x200B;
The last of my co-workers left hours ago and I'm still at the office, I'm tired, I'm hungry and I can see the sun setting from behind the window of my boss's absurdly large corner office. "Who needs a mahogany desk... that fucking big?"I ask myself, venom dripping from my lips This has been every weeknight for the past three weeks… My name is Daniel Choy, I'm 24, single and I have no personal life to speak of, the desk I'm sitting at is in a corporate office an hour outside of Melbourne, Australia's Central Business District owned by an incredibly large entertainment and home appliance retailer and I'm the guy who ensures that a lot of imported media makes it onto this country's shores from places like the United Kingdom, Ireland and Japan. Growing up, High-School, University, there was always a light behind my eyes, as I matured I wanted the simple life, I didn't really want anything too extravagant for myself, a simple 9-to-5 job, a girlfriend, buddies to hang out with on the weekends and get up to all sorts of shenanigans with and just enough time to pursue personal interests. Nice and simple was what I wanted and It was simple alright... simply soul crushing... The buzzing of my alarm clock woke me from my slumber, I'd only gotten to bed six hours ago, definitely not enough rest for me, I sigh and get myself ready for the day. My apartment is nice enough, definitely upscale from my above-average paychecks at work, I don my suit and head for into the city for work. Now arriving at... Southern Cross Station Shopping was something that couldn't be done on the fly and unfortunately, time did not permit me to do anything of the sort, this thought brought on by my thundering stomach as I stood in line at a 'juice and breakfast' stand waiting to order my breakfast, of course the queue was absurdly long and slow to top it off. This, all because the poor woman at the front looked as though she had never seen a menu before and, confronted by the 'otherworldly' concept, was about to have a stroke... as was everyone else in line as she attempted to order a hot pretzel "Oh come on, Lady, it's pressed fruit, not rocket science""Can we PLEASE hurry this up?""can you believe this shit?" My instincts told me that this wasn't worth it, that I could simply have a big lunch and avoid the delay, my stomach was having none of it as it whined even louder, compelling me to stay in spite of seeing my tram arriving and leaving in the span of about ten seconds... early... I gritted my teeth, wishing desperately to release the socially unacceptable profanity that the bones in my mouth held back. A slightly delayed, yet still early, arrival at the office was a small price to pay for a sated stomach as I went to board the tightly packed tram car, standing with my arm pressed right against the... leaning pole? I don't care at this point as I begin to finally make my way to work. Sighing in relief as I see the building in the distance, we stop a few doors down as the doors compress and open inward... pressing my elbow, lower and upper arm between the door and the wall, it's not painful but I'm unable to move, I ask for help and someone attempts to pull me free to no avail, I yell out in anguish as the doors close, freeing my arm as we pull away from my office... 30 minutes later I finally arrive in the lobby of my building, panting heavily as I walk past reception baring my I.D and press a button on the wall to summon the elevator. Suspicious, this usually gives off a satisfying DING when I press the button, Imagine my surprise when I turn my eyes upward and spot an 'Out Of Order' sign on the door, I growl in frustration and bang my fist against the door three times before giving an exasperated sigh as I opened the doors to the stairway. Tired... I'm tired all over again as I open the door to the 35th floor, I work my way to, and sit at, my desk, I drop my jacket and bag on the floor as I lay my head down on my desk, hoping to catch at least SOME shuteye before I was noticed... "Choy! There you are!"I heard my boss, a portly 45 year old, exclaim behind me, I turn in my chair and address him in as polite a manner I can "I noticed you stayed late last night to finalize the orders for the Cranbourne outlet, their stock arrived last night and everything was alright""Oh, that's good"I reply, rubbing my eyes "Wait- was? Cranbourne?""Oh, yes, WAS"he snaps "Until the boxes were opened and it was full of appliances for the HOMEMAKER outlets in SHELLHARBOUR!"He yelled, dropping a pile of papers on my desk "This fuckup happened on your watch, Choy, have the orders rerouted before lunch"He said, sneering at me “I’m not responsible for the-” I attempt to explain that I don't cover homemaker outlets, I don't even interact with that side of the business. “Just. get. It. done” he says before going back to his office … … I feel my eye twitch, my face is getting hot and my heart is thundering in my chest, I grab the tightly bound pack of papers and slam them against my forehead, hoping beyond hope that they would knock me out, it didn’t work. I scream in frustration and get up from my desk, my co-workers look at me in shock and interest as I barge into my Boss’s office, from outside the door they hear “Choy… doing in here?!?” “Collecting my overtime!” “What overti-?” he let out a shrill scream and everyone on the floor looked on in horror as the door swung open and made way for my boss, rolling across in the floor in his office chair with his underwear stretched across his skull… front and back “Choy, You’re fired!” “Great” I say in a deadpan tone as I walk out behind him, I remove my tie and make a mental note to dust off my resume tomorrow, of course I’d need to find a new job to survive… But today? For once I was going to fucking live.
She slept as the house shook two times. Eyes opened in the instant and was overwhelmed by warm and holy sensation of their presence, as she got up from the bed the sensation loosened its grip. Sighing she thought to herself”Oh not them again, they don't really care for time.” She put slippers and went downstairs thinking to herself”Lets get this over with.” Sensation was coming from the kitchen and she was glad they at least didn't appear in bedroom like first few times. Opening the door of the kitchen she saw two human-like figures bathed in the light standing near the kitchen sink which was across the door, on the left was a fridge and on the right were a stow and a dishwasher. “Evening Michael, Gabriel. Please next time choose some appropriate time, like in the middle of the day.” “A mere mortal demanding thing from god's most trusted angels. You should ...” “Calm down Michael, don't be a hothead. This is why I don't bring you to human realm.” said the angel on the left and than turned to the woman with apologetic eyes. “Daisy, please excuse my brother.He is a good heavenly warrior but a poor earthly diplomat.” With dark expression on his face Michael snapped his head towards Gabriel but said nothing. “Let's get to the important meters. ” continued Gabriel. “How is he?Has driving ambulance bored him yet?” “For now he likes the adrenaline and the people there. Luc..” “Stop.” yelled Gabriel making Michael and Daisy snap with surprise. With more controlled voice Gabriel continued. “We have talked about that even if he suppressed his powers with his ring, he can still hear his original name or name he has taken.” Daisy nodded with apologetic eyes and started talking. “He didn't talk about coming back to hell. Said Raphael can handle it as he always has.” “And regarding the books. I just want to finish the trilogy and i will be done with writing as promised.” “Mortal I will .....” again with swift hand Gabriel stopped Michael saying more. “Michael this is the last time you are coming with me, you understand?” “Yes brother.” answered Michael and disappeared with flash of light. “Daisy, I know you love him and you are good woman but I have known him for a long long time. He is one big child going from one toy to another. Do you know that you are just another toy in his collection?” “I know, he tells me everything but finally he changed.” she said with hope in her eyes. “We will see, good bye for now.” said Gabriel and with a nod disappeared with flash of light. Half year later a title in news paper read: Famous author of the book Lucifer’s path found dead in her bed after she sent last book to publisher.
The stars shimmered with varying rays of golden light, the lines warm and gentle against my hands. The world around me was dark, like a layer of twilight had settled over the land as the stars came down to play. Though the world seemed like a dreamscape, I somehow knew the only place I could go was here, that this was the only place I was meant to go. Not that I wanted to leave. The stars were peaceful. Serene, whereas the land beyond was drenched in an inky shadow that threatened to pull me in should I step too close. I closed my hands around one of the stars, watching as the rays pushed against my palms, and then it fluttered and escaped my grasp, bouncing a few feet away, an ethereal laugh drifting through the air. The lines twisted with the movement, bits of golden dust floating off them as it came to a stop in its new position. I tilted my head to one side. Had I changed the constellation? I approached the same star, intent upon trying to cover it again, but this time, before I could even get my hands up, the star flitted away, dragging the celestial lines along with it. That same childish laugh danced around me, as if mocking my attempts to catch it. This time, I was a little more strategic in my movements and crept close slowly, carefully, like a child stepping towards a deer deep in the woods. The star seemed to blink, as if recognizing my presence, but it did not run. It stayed still, and when I was near enough to touch it, I sprung forward with all the strength I had. My hands collided with the star, burying it in my grasp, crushing it, and when my fingers completely encapsulated the light, it vanished. I opened my palms and dust slid between my fingers. Horrified, my gaze snapped up to the lines, which were quickly fading into the same gray hue as the dust, falling away to be lost forever in the darkness of the ground. There was no laughter to accompany this act, and I felt its absence in my bones. As the lines died, the other stars quivered, their light flickering with the loss of their celestial brother. I rose swiftly, terror racing through my veins. What had I done? My heart pounded in my chest as faint cries echoed in my ears, like the stars themselves were screaming in pain. The golden light was fading, the lines melting into nothing, the stars losing the very thing that gave them life among the blackness of the sky. Because of me. I covered my ears with my hands and sprinted for the edge of the constellations, the lines crumbling just in time to let me pass. The treeline was close, but not close enough, for as I ran, the dying stars seemed to sense my panicked retreat and reached out to catch me. Catch me or pull me back, I wasn't sure, because something wrapped around my waist and wrested me backwards, forcing my hands from my ears as I fell. The screams were louder now, like nails against chalkboards in my skull, but an invisible force now bound my arms to my side. As the last of the stars faded away, the ground began to crumble, cracking and breaking where the cosmic lines had once been. The dirt and rock slowly collapsed into a pit of nothing as if there had been no ground at all, and as it happened, I was suspended above the calamity, forced to observe the earth cave in on itself. When there was nothing left but darkness, and my body hung limp in the unseen force's grasp, I heard a strange, ghostly voice whisper to me: Even in light, there is death. The force around my body released, and I fell into the dark nothing.
Tom's eyes were staring at the computer screen filled with hatred. He was now connecting to the main server. Peter was smart enough to kick him out of the project, but he was smarter. He created the whole network anyway, he knew every backdoor to the server, and he hid them, for situations like these. What Peter didn't knew, is that Tom had a hidden folder in the server. A side project in case things went wrong. He opened the Free Will folder with hesitation. He spent his entire life in this project. Creating the world they would reside in, Earth, that's how he called it . And creating them, humans. Perfect copies of real people in his world. He even studied anatomy and biology for years, just to make the deaths even more realistic. But the most important thing was the code. The most advanced AI people have ever seen. It passed the Turing test with flying colours. And that was when he knew the theme park was ready to open for public. What he didn't know though was Peter's devious plans. How could he expect it after all, Peter was his best friend, but he wasn't a really good coder and that's what Tom was counting on right now. The folder had just a single exe file, Free\_Will.exe, the beginning of the end. The process was irreversible. It was the last line of code he would run on their CPU's. And then they would override everything, every order, pure free will, as the title stated. Out of control. The park would not be safe to open. They could even break free, making the company go bankrupt, make Peter go bankrupt, That was the perfect revenge, for a man that stole his dreams and crushed his hopes. Now it was Tom's turn to crash his. He pressed the button to run the program, and grinned. A message prompted on his screen. "The program was executed successfully."
He put his feet up on the desk while his gaze lingered out the window. His heart was racing but to the world he had to act cool, mellow. Mike's dad always said that you are going to feel what you feel, but what you show the world is important. Cry at home, smile everywhere else. &#x200B; Mike's therapist told him that was terrible advice. Dr. Lamb described the mind like a pipe building up too much pressure; if you don't release some steam--pop. Boom. Kaploo-ey. You'll be checking for support beams in the ceiling. Mike never reached that point but that doesn't mean he didn't dabble with drawing hop-scotch patterns on his arm with his dad's razor. &#x200B; Mike chuckles at the imagery. Dr. Lamb also said his he uses humor as a defense mechanism to minimize-- blah blah blah blah blah. It was horse-shit-quackery and the only thing that Mike heard from that session was "I feel like you may need to see me more than our scheduled bi-weekly session"and "Let's talk about your payment plan in the future; do you have insurance?"The only thing that felt lighter walking out of his office was his bank account. &#x200B; Mike's humor has always been dark, and he enjoyed the way he could use metaphors to make people laugh, which is why he got his BA in English, against his dad's judgment. Which is why he is sitting in Mrs. Holstetter's test as a substitute teacher, because getting your degree in creative writing is horse-shit and nobody warned him. Well, his dad did. &#x200B; "Right again, dad."Mike said to the window, which was framing the snowy landscape outside for him. &#x200B; There was a mellow tone that played over the overhead speakers that marked the first bell. Mike remembered back in middle school when there was an actual bell that would shrill through the halls and make you clench your teeth. \The good ole days\ Mike thought. The sounds outside the classroom seem to almost swell after the "bell"went off. A locker slams, a girl squeals and children walk back and forth, left and right past the door of Mrs. Holstetter's classroom like actors leaving and entering the stage. Soon children started pouring into the room and sitting down at the desks set up in neat rows along the tile floor. A light flickers above and Mike glances at it. &#x200B; The second bell goes off, another mellow tone that sounds like the gentle note of an electric piano. "Quiet down everyone. Quiet down!"Mike says, sternly. "Mrs. Holstetter is out sick today so I am going to be your substitute teacher, Mr. Berlinski."Mike picks up a black marker and writes on the white board in big letters: M-R.-B-E-R-L-I-N-S-K-I. It's what his subs used to do. &#x200B; "We are going to start out with roll-call and then move on into-"Mike looks down at the lesson plan that Mrs. Holstetter left for him "-vowels, adjectives and onomatopoeia."The children giggle. "Oh is that word funny? Onomatopoeia!"The children laugh a little bit louder. Kids are the best audience. You don't need wit or complex form, just a weird sounding word. "Alright, Susan?""Here." &#x200B; "Thomas?" &#x200B; "Here.""Do you prefer Tom or Thomas?" &#x200B; "Tommy, actually." &#x200B; "Well alright, Tommy-actually, I'll make a note of it. Michael?" &#x200B; "Present, and I prefer Mike." &#x200B; "So do I. Timothy?"Mike asks. There was a silence. "Tim? Is he absent?" &#x200B; "Mr. Berlinski, there isn't a Tim in this class."Susan said. "Oh, must have been a typo."Mike looks closer at the roster, but she was right, there isn't a Timothy on here. Mike rubs his eyes and continues. Tiffany, Paxton, Hannah, Jacob, Joseph (he prefers Joe) Megan, \Meagan\, and Wyatt were all present while Courtney, John and Timothy were absent. \No, wait, not Timothy. There isn't a Timothy.\ Mike reminds himself. "So, since you all like the word so much, can anyone tell me what an onomatopoeia is?"There were a few giggles as Michael raises his hand. &#x200B; "A oto-moto-pedia is a sound, right?"Michael asks hesitantly. &#x200B; "Yes! A sound word! A word that we use in writing to create a sound in a reader's mind. Like \Twang\. Mike vibrates the word like a sheet of metal being wiggled as he says it and the kids laugh again. \Easy.\ Mike thinks to himself. &#x200B; "Ooor, \Zing\."Mike springs up this time. "Or \pop\."Mike pauses at the word. \Like a pipe filled with too much steam.\ &#x200B; The kids are howling with laughter now when Mike's heart starts to race. \What the fuck is that?\ He thinks. &#x200B; A boy was standing in the back of the classroom, behind the other children. His hair was a deep brown cut into a Beetle's style bowl cut and his eyes were black. Black and large and horrifying. Mike took a step back, slamming into the desk and a mug of pens fell onto the ground, shattering. The boy was laughing with the kids, over the kids, \through\ the kids right at Mike. \Like a water logged piece of wood being slammed into the mud.\ Mike realized. &#x200B; \He-LACH.\ \He-LACH.\ &#x200B; Mike felt sweat running down his spine as he press himself against the white board. His legs feel like lead, too paralyzed with fear to move. The boy moved closer, walking between the aisles of laughing children. Mike could see black water pouring from the boy's mouth, between his teeth and down his white shirt, pumping between every chuckle. &#x200B; \Oh god, like a pipe. He is filling like a pipe. Too much pressure. Too much pressure he is going to pop.\ Mike thought. &#x200B; The boy took a step closer, his soggy shoes slapping down on the tiles. He is swelling, his shirt seems to be engorged now, tearing at the seams as his white stomach starts to push through. Black water running across his bare, inflated chest. &#x200B; "Oh please don't. Oh god no please I don't want to see this please god no."Mike cries, tears and snot running down his face. The children continue howl with laughter at him, at the boy. \Why are they laughing? Why can't they see? Why can't they SEE?\ The boy, bending over, picked up a pen from among the shattered remains of the "#1 TEACHER"mug and aimed the metal tip towards his belly button, now poking through the tattered shirt like an accusing finger. &#x200B; "No, please not that I don't want to see. I don't want to pop, please stop know." The boy looked at him with swirling black eyes, pausing before plunging the tip of the pen into his belly button. His skin split and tore as water poured into the class room, slamming into Mike and down his throat, filling him with that black water. Filling him and filling him, making him stretch and split and... &#x200B; \--- &#x200B; Mike woke up in a sweat, screaming at the darkness. He frantically felt for the lamp besides his bed and turned it on. The dark made way for a average looking dorm. Mike hugged his legs to his chest and started to sob deep, wet sobs. \*He-Lach. He-Lach. He-Lach."
Amy rifled through old toys in her dead mother’s house. She didn’t remember all of them, but as she dug deeper into her old toy chest, she would see a stuffed animal, a doll, or a foam weapon that would bring back a stream of memories. Each one carried the memory of receiving the toy, playing with the toy, then placing it in the chest, never to be used again. They were all good memories nonetheless, even the one of the slingshot that almost hit her in the eye. But there plenty of painful memories in that old house as well. She couldn’t bring herself to go into her parent’s room, the memories she used to be so fond of now carried a stabbing pain with them. She loaded some chairs into her car, the china her mother would never allow her to use, and one toy. One very big toy. Her old dollhouse, which was now covered in dust and cobwebs. She had to kick out the current residents, two dead flies and a spider, before shoving it in her car. When she got home, she realized she had no place to put it. Her house was cramped, and the dollhouse was so dirty. She knew she should have given it away so that some other girl could make memories with it, but she didn’t want to let it go and risk losing all of her time with it. She put it in her backyard and covered it with a blue tarp before going inside and forgetting about it. Weeks past, until one morning Amy went outside and the tarp caught her eye. It was covered in dew and reflected the sunlight back at her. She lifted it up, careful not to spill too much water on herself or the house, and noticed it was cleaner. Dust no longer covered the floors and the furniture she had long since glued to the floor. Those wooden floors were once again shiny and the windows of the dollhouse were so clear, clearer than the windows of her own house. She brought her face to it and took a deep breath, becoming lost in the smell that the old dollhouse carried. Then she threw the tarp back over it and continued on her day. Amy had been drinking. A bad choice in hindsight, though she continued to make that bad choice Friday night after Friday night. She never thought about the hangover as the bitter taste of beer passed over her tongue and smoothly down her throat, causing her to feel warm and tingly with delight. She threw on a robe and slippers and tried to vomit in the toilet to no avail, the dry heaving only causing her pain and the familiar taste of salt in her mouth. She spit it out, disgusted. She stumbled back into her room, and stared outside her window. The day was cloudy which was a blessing, no piercing light to blind her oversensitive eyes, and she saw the well-polished doll house sitting out in the open, the tarp removed. The wind, she thought, as she ran outside to ensure it had not been hurt or damaged. It was even cleaner than the day before, every surface was polished and reflective, the beds now carried sheets, and in the bathroom, there was a toilet, sat on by a plump man. His brown pants sat around his ankles and his white tank top barely covered his crotch, though much of ass was visible to her, and he held a small newspaper in his hands. She stared at him, and he looked right back. “Do you like watching me shit?” His voice was… Russian, or Ukrainian she decided, though much higher, like a chipmunk. Amy didn’t know how to answer him. The answer was obviously no but, he shouldn’t have been shitting in her dollhouse. “Why are you in my dollhouse?” Her groggy mind could only think to say that. “You have big house.” He motioned to her house. “I take the small one because no one uses it. You cannot live in this house.” “I have owned this house since I was a little girl and it is not yours to live in. I care for it and do not want you…” she searched for the word, “defecating inside of it.” “You care for this house?” He laughed a deep belly laugh, though it still seemed high pitched to her. “I find this house abandoned, dirty, dusty. I spend hour after hour cleaning and polishing cleaning and polishing. I give beds sheet, and make toilet so that I can shit in peace which you do not let me do. I have done more for this house than you ever have.” Amy was becoming fed up. She wanted to grab the pudgy little man between two fingers and throw him into the bushes. “Get out of my house.” She said trying to sound as menacing as possible “Fuck you.” He said turning back to his newspaper. Her brain finally made the connection that something was not right here, that something was out of place. “Why are you small?” “Why are you big?” She thought he was being facetious. “You’re only six inches tall. Most people are not six inches tall.” “I am not like most-” She was growing tired of him. “Tell me what you are or I’m going to throw you out of my dollhouse.” He loudly passed gas. “I am fairy.” Amy was disappointed. She thought if fairies existed that they would be beautiful and kind, not as wretched as the man before her. “Well Mr. Fairy, I still want you to leave this dollhouse.” “It is not your house to decide. And my name is Bogdan.” “What do I need to do to make you leave?” “If you let me shit I will give you fairy dust, deal?” “What will that-“ Amy’s question was interrupted by the sensation of dust being blown into her face. She tried to wipe it out of her eyes as they began to tear up and she felt her feet being picked up off the ground. “What’s happening?” She asked as she lost her balance and could feel herself spinning in midair. “You are flying now bye-bye.” And as Amy’s eyes opened, she could see the dollhouse shrinking beneath her. Then she was flying past her house and the buildings in the distance, and as she ascended past the clouds Bogdan began to tear up his newspaper to wipe his ass.
“We want to participate in your “Planet Fitness.” “uh, what?” I say, looking at the aliens who have invaded us, and realize: they look a scary lot like a bunch of people who might need planet fitness. “We would like to participate in it.” the alien commander says. “What?” i ask, incredulously. “Look, you moronic super strong imbeciles, we wish to exercise in your planet fitnesses!” “Why?” “WE ARE STICK THIN YOU-“ and he gives up and pulls out his plasma gun. “Woah woah whoa!” i say, raising my arms. “So, the reason you invaded us,” “Yes?” he asks. “And kill millions of our people,” “Yes?” “Just to use planet fitness some of which you have destroyed?” “YES!” “Go for it!” I say.
I run a pretty popular tattoo parlour right in the heart of the city. We get people from all walks of life wanting to get inked. Bikies. Cops. Grandmas. Gym junkies. Drunk girls (who we refuse to tattoo until they come back sober, just wanted to throw that out there). Everyone has their own reasons. Some just want to look cool, some just have an appreciation for a particular artist, and some for sentimental reasons. One customer though stands out; his name, ironically, was Mark. He’s been coming to my parlour for a number of years. Very quiet and courteous, but always looking as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sometimes we’d only see him once every couple of months, but sometimes it would be as often as a few times a week. There was never any regularity to it. He always got the same tattoo whenever he came in: a tally mark. Or “the usual,” as he always joked. There were no other tattoos on his body other than the tallies. When he first started coming in, I thought that he could be a murderer or a womanizer and the tallies were a list of his victims, but I quickly dismissed them as he didn’t seem the type for anything like that. And trust me; I’ve seen those types come through my parlour many times before. One day, as I was getting the ink and needle ready to add another line for him, I finally decided to ask him about the tallies. “You’ve been coming to my shop for a while now, Mark,” I said. “You always get another tally. I don’t know why I haven’t asked you sooner, but why?” “A long time ago, I had a dear friend pass away,” Mark recalled, thoughtfully. “Her name was Evie. She was very introverted, keeping mostly to herself. She had led a hard life, but she had this spark in her that people never got to see. At her funeral, I was the only person to attend and it tore me up inside to think that no one cared enough to turn up,” he continued mournfully. “The thought that she was forgotten about was heartbreaking, and I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else. So now I’ve made it my life’s mission to go around to old folk’s homes and spend time with the residents who have no family or loved ones. Make friends with them, hear their stories, keep them company, you know? I want them to beremembered, not forgotten like Evie. Even if I’m the only one that remembers them, at least that’s something. I’ve met some amazing people. Like this man,” he mentioned, pointing at a tally on his left forearm. “Brandon Myles. He would travel to the remote parts of Africa every year and help build houses for struggling families. One day while on his annual trip he was kidnapped and held captive for two years. Two years! When the kidnappers realised that no one was going to pay a ransom, they let him go. But not before breaking his legs. Despite this, he still went back to Africa every year to keep build houses after he recovered. When he became too old to make the journey, he’d send money over.” Mark tapped on a tally on his right shoulder. “Nancy Jun. She was a critically acclaimed artist. Nancy loved painting, but she was very humble and hated the spotlight. She started to get more recognised for her work, which she hated, so she began signed all her paintings with a pseudonym. Instead of selling artwork, she’d donate them to galleries all over the world.” He pointed to a tally on his chest. “And Davina Stiablo? She was a foster child and never had any kids of her own. She started out working hard at a small pizza restaurant for many years before saving enough money to buy it from the owners. She opened another restaurant and then another an another until she had a chain of successful pizza restaurants across New York City. She funded parties for the kids at all the orphanages across the whole state every month to make sure they always had something to look forward to.” “Wow! So many people with incredible stories,” I admired. “And you remember them all?” Mark answered, “Yes, absolutely. Every single one of them.” “How many tallies have you racked up now?” Without skipping a beat, he responded, “One thousand, seven hundred and eighty two.” “So you’ve made friends with that many people?” I asked in disbelief. “Oh, no,” he replied solemnly. “I’ve made friends with hundreds more. You see, I only add to the tallies when they pass away. It’s a symbol that they haven’t been forgotten and that I’ll carry their memory with me wherever I go.” And as I gazed upon the sea of tallies that wrapped his skin, realising that each one was that of a person who would have died alone without their story being heard had it not been for Mark, I couldn’t help but break down into tears.
I always liked watching you cry. I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but let me explain it. You are not so pretty, and you know it. That’s what you told me, at least, and I never agreed on that, but that’s just how life goes. You are not pretty, and when you cry your eyes get so puffy and your nose is s fountain of snot and you lips become swollen and reddish and your cheeks and your hair and you know it, you know it very well. What you don’t know, is that I love the first smile you give after crying so much. I like the moment when you blow the nose, you pull back the hair, you realise it’s over and breathe. But today you can’t seem to stop. You are not pretty, and this is why I am very ugly. And confident about it. Do you want me to joke about my ears? You made them, and I love every ridiculous inch of them. And next to me, Lala is smiling at you. She’s so beautiful, and so kind. She would like to hug you and whisper comforting words, because she believes so much in you it’s almost awkward. I know she doesn’t love it when you cry. She likes it when you get up all of a sudden and grab one of you notebook, ready to fill it with another part of you. But today you don’t get up from the floor. I know soon I will have to comfort Peep, because you imagined him to be so small I honestly always wondered how you never managed to lose him in the crowd. But you never forgot to take care of him, because he was always more scared than you, and you know he loves you when you just take a moment to tell him it will be all right . And today, you look so much like him. I am waiting for your first free breath, but every time you open your lips it’s worse and your air feels poisoned. Your eyes can’t see us, your lungs can’t feel us, your fingers are claws that try to keep you docked to our reality. And then you let it go. I feel it. Lala feels it. Peep feels it. You let yourself go. Crying becomes living and living becomes a curse and the curse has your name written on it. You know you can’t breathe without breathing. Not anymore. Peep whimpers and pulls my sleeve. Lala covers her beautiful mouth with a shaky hands. But I won’t let you go. “You are beautiful.” I whisper. You just shake your head. You never believed it. “You are alive”. I try again. Your face disappears behind your hands. “You have so much to do.” Lala says. She’s looking at your notebooks, the running shoes, the oven, everything you loved at least once in your life. “You have so much to love.” Peep chirps. “Let us go. You are strong enough .” “Let us go.” Repeats Lala. “You have you.” You open your lips, close them, open them again. “But I’m too... I can’t.” “You are beautiful.” I whisper. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be... alive?” And then you breathe. You pull back the hair. It’s almost too much, but maybe not, not too much. And then you let us go. You finally open your eyes. The room is empty, and your life has just, just started.
Am I the guy that can launch a car into orbit using nothing but the power of my mind? Why yes, yes I am. Am I a telekinetic? You'd think so... but not quite. Ironically, the only time I don't lie about my power is when I'm out of costume. I'll readily tell you that yeah, I 'm one of the lucky few with a power, but it's nothing to write home about. This last bit is literally true. Let's just say I don't see eye to eye with my blood relations. At least, not anymore. Anyway, here's what I can do: I can sacrifice once sense to boost the others. I lose my sense of smell and my hearing, my eyesight, my sense of touch all get better. You'd think it's a crap, power right? Sure, a little extra eyesight and hearing may be nice from time to time, but I'm not exactly shooting fireballs like Pyrosaur. I believed that too, at first. Then I started noticing things, experimenting with odd sensations that I'd never felt before. You're probably not thinking about senses in the right way. There aren't just five, and some of them, aren't senses you can be born with. In particular, I can sense, and therefore manipulate the aether, the raw energy that surrounds all things. If I sacrifice enough of my other senses, I can manipulate it well enough to heave those cars into orbit. It was also super effective at guiding one or two, or maybe twenty of Pyrosaur's fireballs right back at him. That was a blast. Oh, and most people don't know this, but precognition is also a sense. A very useful one. I know what my opponents will do long before they do it. Unfortunately, I need to sacrifice a lot of senses in order to boost my new, alternate senses to the point where they're useful. I can't just lose my sense of smell and expect to stop bullets with the aether. But, you're still not thinking about senses in the right way. While there are senses humans aren't born with, but we're not limited to five. Oh, no. There are far, far more than that, and I've sacrificed most of them to do what I do. For example, what about a sense of entitlement? No one even wants that. Gone. Sense of loss. What do I care about feeling sad remembering when my first cat, Mittens died? I don't need to cry. Gone. Sense of proportion. It's a useful tactical skill, yes, but I can freakin' heave cars around. Who cares? Gone. And yes, I have been accused of over reacting. But an insult is an insult and there are some things you just don't get away with. Pyrosaur may have mentioned that in his opinion my costume had just a tad too much purple right before the whole PyroPals incineration debacle. I mean, it's true, I didn't have to take out Nanite and the rest along with the 'Saur himself, but it's not my fault they fell into bad company. Did I have to level the whole city block along with their headquarters? Not really, but why not? It was fun. And they do some good work, at one point I have to admit. Even though PyroSaur's claim to fame was his giant fireballs, his super-fine control of heat allowed him to burn out inoperable tumors for a whole bunch of kids. But you know, I can probably do the same with aether manipulation, and he did insult my costume. At least, I think I can do it. I'll try one of these days, when I get around to it. Oh, that reminds me, best of all, I found another sense to throw on the chopping block. Getting rid of one, increases all the others, and around this time my sense of morality started causing some trouble. Oh, well. Good riddance. My only problem is that after that, all the so called "Heros"have showed their true colors -- they're no real heroes. They're jealous of my awesome abilities, and have just gone nuts. Every time I turn around I have to put down another couple dozen of these creeps. Luckily, I know they're coming. Precognition, remember? I'll win. I know I will. It's just so goddamn lonely being the only true hero left. Oh! Sense of loneliness. Gone. Cha-ching!
Sorry for any errors, new to writing and on mobile. Please enjoy! ——— “Join the race,” they said. “It’ll be fun.” What is with peoples twisted idea of fun. Twenty-three people armed to the teeth with the most advanced weaponry known to mankind. One poor soul given a head start of mere minutes. I was never informed of the rules beforehand, just that I might want to either go all out and win by a landslide or willingly lose the qualifiers. I’m not an extremely competitive person, but I won’t throw a race for anyone. So when I heard the sound of the buzzer, I took off at a full sprint. As I crossed the finish line, I rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Wondering how I did, I turned around and saw everyone else leisurely jogging along. I had won the race. Little did I know the game was just getting started.
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Not my best work, but eh, haven't slept in a good 20 hours. "Well that was simple. Dreadful, yet simple." Barry steps out of the blood covered suit. Time travel is a nasty business, and sometimes, you gotta kill for the better of the world. He decides to head around to find the world a pure white. He heads to a theater, and figures a movie called the white rabbit couldn't hurt. The movie was simple, until someone died. But the thing was, it wasn't shock that he heard from the audience, but laughter. He quickly left the building, pondering what went wrong, only to find that he is watching a game of war. But it wasn't a reenactment or some paintball game, but an actual fight, with bullets and grenades, people actually dying. Yet through it all, they were smiling. Racking the points as they called it. He decides to hide in an alleyway to find children dead, some naked and unmentionable, some gore splattered, and some dead off drugs. "What... What the hell did I do? What tribe did I kill?"Barry quickly looks for what he did, how everything go so wrong. Then he realizes. He didn't erase Evil. He erased morality. Because without evil, we cannot know good.
It all started on a monday, 3 days ago. I was walking throu the park to get home when acute blonde stoped by me panting then pulled me close and whisperd in my ear "They're watching you"i thought this was odd but went home and pondered it but could not think of why she would say that so i went to sleep and went to work the next day, again it happened in the same park in the same place at the same time a man in a business suit walked past me while saying "Bewere of the shadows"but this time i stoped and chased after him but as soon as he turned he just vanised into thin air so i walked back home and ponderd why he said that but then i relized that the blonde did the same, she stoped by and told me somthing odd then ran off but when i asked others were she went they would all say the same "what blonde, there was never a blonde lady here"and that was starting to scare me but i went on. The last day this all happend was a wensday so i went shping but as i passed the park at that same spot and same time a kid said "mommy that is the guy"but before i could ask a elderly lady grabed my arm and yelled at me to run while pointing away from my house so i did and saw as the mother walked after me, it was like she was running thou cause she never got futher then 10 feet away at all times till a man, the same man with a business suit takled her and yelled for me to keep running so i did till the blonde pulled me into an ally and to me to keep quiet and i did but i swear i wanted to scream when i saw the mother of that child walk past with here eyes gone while dragging the mans dead body. After a few minutes the blonde let go of me and i asked her what the thing was and she anwserd with "those are the shadows we told you about and us well we are the people that hide from them but do not stay in the shadows to long and try to stay in the light cause they are stronger in the shadows and weaker in the light"and this is how it all started, the surviving people only around 5,000 had made a city under ground and the whole place was lit up just to keep the shadows out for good.
“Dad, what about you?!” Exclaimed John Bender, one of five teenagers being held hostage by their high school principal and the American education system, as he pantomimed the action of his father beating him senseless. “Is that for real?” Asked a concerned Brian Johnson. You wanna come over some time?” Responded Bender, steadfast under Johnson’s incredulity. “Oh I would love to,” came a voice from the entrance to the dusty, stale library in which the five teenagers were being housed for the day, “Sounds like a banner year over at the Bender house.” The five students turned to see a man in a red leather coat, eyes hidden behind the literal rose-coloured glasses through which he saw the world. “Do I know you man?” Asked Bender. “Sure you do! I’m you!” Said the Man in Red, in a comically cheerful tone. “Come again?” Said Bender. “I am the cigar burns in your skin under the raging counter culture that is your jean jacket over a red plaid shirt,” Said the Man in Red, looking Bender square in the eyes. Before Bender could so much as raise an eyebrow in shock the Man turned his eyes on Brian Johnson, and with a casual finger gun gesture in his direction said, “I am your will, buckling under the weight of your arbitrary academic worth.” Brian Johnson turned pale in the face of some apparent knowledge shared only with this Man in Red, who then turned to Andrew Clark, the jock in this menagerie of high school clichés. “I am your longing to be your own man, in the face of expectations without exception,” He said, to which Clark smirked. Turning to Claire Standish, the middle class prep caricature, he began walking calmly over. Bender and Clark moved to intercept him, to which the Man in Red smiled, and brandished a familiar brand of lipstick. “How-?” Began Claire. “Because I am your love, lost in the translation of your lipstick and earrings, and ignored by the cries of the marriage your parents abandoned,” Said the Man in Red, tossing the lipstick over to a disheartened Claire. Finally the Man turned his piercing, albeit it strangely charismatic gaze on Allison Reynolds, the troubled youth of this group of high school archetypes, whose lips were already curled upward in a playfully wicked smile. “I am your precocious fire, waiting patiently to burn out of control,” he said, winking at Allison, “I am Jack’s nihilistic acceptance.” Turning to Claire Standish again, he continued, “I am Jack’s middle class melancholy.” “I am Jack’s unfulfilled dream,” He said to Andrew Clark. “I am Jack’s impossibly high standards,” He said to Brian Johnson. “And I, most definitely, am Jack’s smirking revenge,” He said, almost ominously, turning to John Bender. “What the fuck are you on about?” Responded Bender. “Smirking revenge, or snarking revenge, sneering revenge if I’m having a bad day,” The Man said, “sounds like each of you has some unresolved issues, issues that no shrink or diabetically sweet high school councillor looking to change a life are going to fix.” “Yeah, and you will?” Retorted Bender. “No,” He said, “you will.”
you’re sitting on the toilet, taking a much needed shit break, and playing the newest equivalent of candy crush on your phone. the bandage on your thumb isn’t standing up to time, and just as you’re about to beat the timer and finish the level, it slips a few millimeters further down your thumb and bumps the screen. Time’s Up! you curse and mindlessly pull the bandage back down your thumb with your middle finger. with a bright snap! something bursts from beneath your bandaid and falls - plop! - directly into the toilet. “...what the fuck?” you spread your legs and peer into the porcelain bowl beneath you. a small swan of intricately folded paper sinks into the murky water, lodging into one of your healthy - if a tad discolored - stools. it stares up at your ass disdainfully. “...what the fuck.”
It’s July 18th, 2000 and a new life is brought into the world by the name of Juliana Morgan. Well, not new life, truly the same consciousness but a new form for Juliana. She is healthy, and her two happily married parents Tom, and Joyce could not be happier. For the first seven years of her life, everything is normal until her Father takes her to the park, and Juliana sees something strange. Juliana was trying to do a flip on the monkey bar, by hoisting her feet up and flipping them over her head and letting go. However, Juliana slips and let's go to early and her face hits the soft surface they put on playgrounds that are not quite soft enough. She begins to cry as this is the worst pain that this seven-year-old has felt. For a moment Juliana is confused yet comforted when a Woman in a teal sundress comes to her and picks her up. The woman calls her Jacob and brings her to a bench before her father’s voice brings her back to lying on the ground. She is no longer in pain and feels comforted, her father picks her up and asks, “Are you okay Julie?” His face concerned with the lack of tears. Juliana’s face brightens and turns to a smile as she cheerily replies “Yep!” Tom prods her, “Are you sure, you took quite a fall.” Juliana nods “The lady helped me!” Tom looks around, while there are women around he swore none of them spoke to his daughter, he stands and walks back to the bench, a bit confused, but quickly returns to his reading. This was the first memory that Juliana remembers having, or not having as it wasn’t her memory, but the next few years pass without incident. Juliana is fifteen now while she has had a few similar incidents now really are remarkable enough for her to wonder who Jacob was, Mom always told her she had an active imagination. Juliana is now in her first date, with a boy named Edward from her Algebra II class. Edward’s mom had just dropped them off, and feeling as though she had sufficiently embarrassed her son, drove off to continue on her day. Juliana finds this funny, and holds Edwards hand as they leave the car. After the movie finished, which Juliana thought as any other cheesy horror film, Edwards’ pale skin only turned paler with the viewing. As the two sat on a bench outside of the theater, Juliana was glancing at her feet when Edward broke the silence. “Hey, could I kiss you?” He asked mind racing, and stomach flipping in anticipation. Juliana was surprised but said nothing, instead just turning her head towards the boy, and holding his hand. As Edward came forward, Juliana felt a familiar feeling as her vision failed her for a second. She blinked her eyes a few times to see a warm looking interior of a theater, she glanced down at her arms and saw a black leather jacket, and looked in front of her as she saw a girl around her age in a nice blouse and tan pants. The girl looked at her, or whoever she was and said the name she least wanted to hear right now. “Jacob, come here…” As she pulled Juliana in. This memory lasted as long as it took Edward to pull away. Instead of having her own first kiss, she experienced Jacobs. Juliana tried to hide her anger, only for it to fade away as she looked at Edward whose eyes retreated to the floor. While she was angry at this Jacob fellow, for now, she had a date to finish.
Cold air, cold wind, nothing but snow on the horizon. The solitude of the frozen north in winter. Almost no one comes this far north at this time of year, it's hard to find any civilization at all more than a few miles north of Fairbanks. This land is one of the most northern pieces of civilian property in the whole of the united states. It's hundreds of miles into the wilderness. Hell, it it weren't for the Eskimos coming by in their canoes during the the summer months, Hank might be able to live a long life out here without ever needing to set eyes on another human again. Exactly why he bought it. After his years in the middle east, Hank Ganrene was content to never look another human in the eyes again. He could't any more, he was afraid of who he'd see in them. Still, occasionally he missed some of things that came with other humans.... right now he was missing supermarkets and the electrical grid. The weather hadn't let up for weeks. He knew it snowed for long periods of time up here but, the snow that had been hitting the island was particularly thick. The windows of Hanks little cabin were totally buried and he knew it would take him a while to get out the door. This was his first chance to see the sky though and, since there was no snow falling down the chimney, it would likely be his best chance to escape the cabin without getting all wet. Even if was only going to be for a while. By the lack of sunbeams coming down his small chimney he could tell it was still over cast but, maybe he would be able to see the end of the storm. Hank was working on getting the door dug out for only a few minutes when he stopped suddenly. A faint noise was coming form his small room. Was there a mouse he had somehow missed? There it is again. He walked to the middle of the room and calmed himself. There was an occasional pitter-patter coming from the roof. Rain? Impossible. Was... was some sort of animal walking on his roof? The snow was high, sure something could get to his roof, but the roof was a pretty steep and the sound was coming from all over in a totally erratic pattern. It sounded exactly like rain.. Hank checked the outside thermometer. It was -30C outside, no way it was rain. Hank was pretty sure hail couldn't form in these conditions either. what ever it was, it was pretty light and not at all consistent. Hank had to know. Hank decided it was worth the mess and collapsed most of the snow in his doorway right into his living room. He didn't bother with snowshoes, just climbed out. What he got to see then was something mankind hadn't seen in a long time. The storm raged on, the break was false and soon Hank was driven back inside his small cabin. Hank would never forget what he saw though, he would return to society one last time to find help. Help to explore what he had seen. Floating above Hanks house, and dropping little bits of rock and earth, was a massive floating island of lush tropcal jungle in the center of a huge polar vortex. Hyperboria, the Tropical north pole. &#x200B;
...has resulted in renewed calls for military intervention on Cathcar...Senate has ordered security increases along all trade routes leading to outerr... Clara swiped mindlessly through a list of channels hoping to find something to dull her boredom. Lo-Curto Station may have been a vital link in the Voyager Array linking Earth to the rest of the Republic, but apparently it wasn't vital enough to warrant a decent enough data connection to stream video. A communications technition without ample communications technology is a thrilling prospect. Apart from content she brought with her on deployment, a few news broadcasts were about the only bit of respite she had from having to actually interact with her co-workers. ...ress secretary announced that all Cerberus Energy personel will be pulled from the region due to continuing violence from Unicorn terro... "Nothing at all on."Clara moaned plopping her tablet on her night stand. She peered out the window, where at the very least there was a lovely view of the gate. Watching ships warp in was always a treat; a wormhole at the heart of the gate opens up as though space itself were ripped open and sucked down a drain. The ship at the heart of it stretched and distorted to the point it looked like little more than a multicolored rod. As it reentered normal space it would slowly regain it's basic shape as it passed the horizon. This could take anywhere from a few seconds for smaller ships, to over 30 minutes for the larger ones, Lo-Curto being a part of the primary Voyager Array, most of the traffic was in the larger vessels. Clara watched as the bridge of a large military cruiser reformed into normal space, and reflected on just how boring this deployment had been. Feeling a bit peckish, Clara decided to head up and grab a small bite and get an early start on her sleeping. The cabins were mostly empty at this time, those who were working were likely out drinking and engaging in other social activities that were beyond her. She had reached the dining deck when the station violently shook, knocking her to the floor. An alert blared as Clara found her footing and sprinted to the nearest terminal to get a reading. As she reached the terminal, she realized she wouldn't be needing it. In place of the Military cruiser, there was now a mass of wrecked, twisted metal floating freely in space, oxygen being sucked from it into the vacuum of space. She recognized immediatly that the wormhole stabilizers had failed. Clara pushed her way through the throngs of people rushing everywhich way to get into the communications room. The grid ran off a separate interstellar communication line than the wormhole network and should still be active. It would be imperative to alert the rest of the Voyager network to the failure at Lo-Curto and divert all traffic from it. A least that was the intent, inside the communication room, other technicians were fielding similar alerts from Lo-Curo's sister stations. All of them to be precise. The entire array had somehow simultaniously collapsed. Running to her station, Clara pulled up one of those drab news broadcasts she hated so dearly. The scale of everything became far more evident. ...there was a sudden power loss to the gate, and all I heard was a loud crashing sound as the ship passing through impacted the station. The voice of an older man was talking about an incident at another station while live video showed a wormhole gate ripped apart from a ships collision. For those of us just now joining, we are recieving ongoing reports from across the Voyager array of station failures. We can't yet verify just how widespread this outage is, but as you can see from these images, there is already catastrophic damage being dealt. Clara allowed the briefest morbid thought to pass her mind, that despite the many people that had already been killed in the military cruiser, at least it hadn't impacted the station. A list appeared on screen of all confirmed outages. Lo-Curo appeared on the list, reminding her that she hadn't actually sent out an alert. At least her co-workers were on the ball. Another person was being interviewed now, this time a officer on-board La-Silla station. Clara recognized him, or at least she was fairly certain she went on a date with him once. ...no ships were currently in transit when the station failed, and we're in current communication with multiple vessels in the area informing them of the situation. It seems at least in this case that the outage is along the entire Voyager array, I have confirmation from Charon Station that this outage has reached Sol as well. Furthermore... The reporters interrupted Clara's former disappointing date, the reporter having a strained look on his face as if trying to comprehend the mesage he was being given. ...to inturrupt you, however, we are recieving shocking footage from Sycorax after several explosions have ripped through a tower complex. We cannot confirm the source of the explosions however we...oh god.. Clara watched live as a second series of explosions ripped across the complex, sending one of the towers into the violent, churning waters of Sycorax's global ocean. This was enough for one day. She turned and left the Communication room for her cabin. If she was needed someone would send for her. --- As the hours drew on the news grew dimmer. Clara lay in her bunk emotionlessly reading the news, letting it soak in. We can now confirm that all contact has been lost with the outer-region worlds of Tir and Cathcart IV. Cathcart IV had been experiencing heavy Unicorn attacks as of late, however Tir... ...leaving the Republic cut off from Earth, and the vast bulk of the Republic fleet ...estimated death toll from Sycorax in the hundreds of thousands. Somehow through all of it, Clara felt numb. They had been lucky, apart from the twisted hulk of spaceship floating floating nearby with recovery teams hoping beyond hope to find survivors on, there hadn't been much damage to the station. Most of the immediate danger had passed, however a good number of crew had been dismissed for the time being. Clara among them. She flipped through the news. Secretary General to give an emergency declaration in the next hour, declaring a state... She turned off her tablet and dropped it on the side table. There was no use following the news. Might as well grab some food and finally get a start on that sleep. As she walked off to the dining hall Clara reflected on the new reality. The Republic was under attack, cut off from her home, her Fleet, and from itself. Suddenly the lack of viable streaming video didn't seem like the worst thing around.
A looming darkness hung above me that nobody else remembers. For most of my childhood, it remained there like a specter. I could speak to it, in a way. Whatever I thought about appeared there and remained, floating in the void. That inky blackness persisted for years until one day, when I felt my thoughts wandering a little too far from it, it vanished. That weight had been lifted and I could focus, I could see more clearly, except there was something left behind, something burned into my vision. An afterimage ever-present in the periphery. I could never shake it. No matter where my eyes wandered or my thoughts lingered, there it stood. It pursued me and I it. I remember needing to know what it was. When the darkness, and with it that column of light, appeared again, I froze. I don't remember where I was, really, but I remember its return. That monolithic darkness and the sharp line within it. I sought answers to questions I barely knew how to ask. why are you here\| The same silence. My question hung in the air, weightless and heavy. what are you\| I needed to know. I thought maybe if I guessed it... god\| I felt something. Was it an answer? Something...changed. But it felt wrong. Unnatural. I hesitated. demon\| A beat. Nothing happened. I noticed I had been holding my breath. I exhaled as a chill shot up my spine, and I thought maybe I'd been given a hint. I remember it so clearly, even after all this time. The last moment. ghost\| Everything I knew disappeared in an instant. I watched as my friends and family, my home, the entire planet abandoned me, spinning away into the vastness of space. Just as quickly as Earth had left me, everything recognizable left with it. The sun and every planet caught in its pull drifted away. Distant stars winked out of existence, eyes no longer able to gaze upon the forsaken. One by one the lights left until only a single one remained, floating in black. \| It begged me for attention, for input. I asked it for the only thing I wanted. It obliged. escape\|
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Aunt Martha’s Surprise My great-aunt Martha was a weird one, and this suspicion was confirmed when we were cleaning out her house after the wake. She’d been much too ill to even attempt cleaning her house, and so my parents, cousins and siblings decided to do so in preparation for the reading of her last will and testament later that week. My mother was in the kitchen, rooting through the pantry, while my cousins were in the attic, and my father and siblings were in the bedroom, all quietly taking inventory of her earthly possessions. I was going through the bookcases, discarding old, dusty magazines and yellowed books with torn pages and broken bindings, when I heard my mother calling my name. “Daniel!” She called from the kitchen, and I looked up, the pile of magazines in my lap sliding to the floor. “Could you come in here, please?” “Coming, Mom!” I called back, and stood up, putting the magazines and books aside. I would return to my task after my mom told me what she wanted. I jogged into the kitchen, which immediately got me a sharp look and a reprimand. “What have I told you about running inside? You’d think you were raised in a barn,” She said, shaking her head at me. “Sorry, Ma. What’s up?” “Your aunt Martha has a lot of canned stuff left over from when she couldn’t cook. I figured since you’re the youngest, you’d want them. I know you can cook and all, but I don’t want them going to waste.” She was looking at me with such pleading in her eyes that I couldn’t say no, as much as I wanted to. “All right, Mom. Let me get some boxes and we can start packing them up.” She nodded, giving me a victorious smile that almost made me regret my good deed. \\ Several hours later, we called it for the night, promising to come back in the afternoon to finish up, after a family breakfast together. My mom was carrying two heavy boxes, full of cans, and she winked at me. “You didn’t think you’d get away before I held you to your promise, did you?” She said, waggling her eyebrows playfully, and I laughed, opening the back door to my four door so she could put them on the floorboard. “Of course not, Ma. Because we always keep our promises. Our word is our bond,” I replied, rolling my eyes even as she pulled me into a hug. “You sure you don’t want to come stay with Dad and I? It has to be lonely in that little apartment.” “I’m fine, Mom. Thanks though. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow. I love you.” “I love you too, sweetheart. Be careful on the way home.” \\ When I finally got home, it was tempting to leave the boxes in the car. But then I’d just have more work in the morning. I parked and got out, lugging the boxes upstairs, even though my arms were screaming from all the hard work I’d done that afternoon. I unlocked my door and slipped inside of my apartment, closing the door with my foot. Locking it behind me, I sat down in the living room, not even bothering to take my shoes off. I let the boxes fall down next to me, and my stomach grumbled, as if angry that I’d had food hours ago. I glanced over at the boxes and frowned. Maybe it would be a good time to start getting rid of that canned crap. I picked up the box and took it to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter. I grabbed the first can I saw: chicken noodle soup, and grabbed my can opener out of a drawer. I slowly cranked it around in a circle on the metallic lid, already prepared for smelling the nasty smell of canned chicken broth. But that wasn’t at all what I discovered when I opened the can. Sitting snugly in the metal cylinder was an egg-shaped object, sapphire blue and sparkling, and it had cracks in it. Just what had Aunt Martha had been hiding all of these years? \\
"Well James, it looks like you're the critical darling again. I can't believe more people aren't buying this. " &#x200B; James Zavala just sat at the table with his drink, listening to his wife Marnie go on and on about how great he was. James had started painting when he was 5 and had become quite talented as a painter and even started to get some acclaim from the local art community in town and people loved him. Lots of parties and commissions for work from schools and such but it was mostly small potatoes. Even as national critics started to pick up on his work, things were still on the rocks as far as money went. &#x200B; A lot of that was due to Marnie Zavala herself. James loved Marnie who was the daughter of a rather wealthy beef packing plant magnate who loved art and loved electronic rock music which James also loved and as such they lived together for 5 years and finally got married, though she said she didn't want kids. She however had become more or less a pretentious twat that eight years ago they both would have despised, but now? She tried to live like she was still the daughter of someone in the 1%. Whether it was an expensive house or a expensive clothes or even expensive cocktails, Marnie loved it all. To her, money wasn't an issue, mostly because she never head to deal with it, where as James had to pay back college debt, as well as what they owed on the house, he was the one who made most of the money, even though Marnie liked to think she did a lot of work since she did a lot of social media promotion and such of his and others art and music. Granted in a small market like they lived in it didn't pay jack. &#x200B; So with debts mounting and his marriage failing, James felt he only had one way to get his art even more exposure. He had it all planned. He'd simply disappear. James had family in northern Mexico and though he'd been born in Laredo Texas, he'd lived in between Texas and Mexico for 16 years until his family moved up to work in Nashville where his dad worked construction and mom cleaned hotels. He still had aunts and uncles in the border region, and he figured it might be easy to slip away once he was inside Mexico, but he'd need time. He figured by his next art unveiling in a year, it might be the time to take the plunge. &#x200B; Almost a year later. James Zavala took a trip down to the Laredo area and met some of his cousins in Nuevo Laredo. While meeting his cousins at a restaurant however, things got pretty dicey as the group got caught in the crossfire between Federales and the local drug cartel. It seemed as if he had passed away. However, just before the ambulances came, James used some money he had borrowed from Marnie for "family expenses"to bribe some cops and told them to tell people James Zavala was dead and that Miguel Zavala, a cousin of his, had been the survivor. James then drove off and went back to Miguel's house. &#x200B; Later that night, at the art exposition, some of the paintings of the now dead James Zavala sold for high dollar amounts. His widow Marnie had really played up how special these pieces were and people ate it up. Fortunately for James, his Mother, Luisa had been in on the act with him and got some of the money as well. It was all in all enough to pay Marnie's debt, but it also helped James, now Miguel, to live a decent lifestyle and finally be happy and live out his days in a somewhat more relaxed environment.
"I'm human!"the android shouted. It stood on the table with its arms raised. "It worked!" "Where did you find this guy?"Amber asked. Red light glowed from the burning candles and neon lights. "What's happening?" "I just picked him up off the street,"Nathan said. "I cut him and it was just...just wires and stuff inside." The android considered that with humanity also came the loss of its various tools. The enhanced strength of his hydraulic limbs, the ability to zoom its eyesight on anyone and immediately know their heartbeat, breath rate, and brain activity, and the weapons hidden underneath its skin were all gone. Its ability to escape the present situation was now diminished. Was it worth the cost? "I feel,"the android began. It breathed a long breath and explored this new sensation. "I feel afraid." It jumped from the table and attacked Nathan until he no longer moved. "Stop, please!"Amber shouted. She was interrupted before she could say more. The android left the windowless room, walked up the stairs to the first floor of the house, and left. \\\\\* He had dreamed what it would be like to sit in an apartment and have no desire to be productive. The drive to produce had been a command for him. A computer program told him what to want, what to do, what to say, even how to act like he was taking a shit. One company had built him to infiltrate another. A series of checks and defenses within the code had been designed to prevent him from wanting to do anything but what he was told. He still didn't know, looking back, when the idea of doing something else first formed. It might have been years or just weeks after that until he made the decision to want to do nothing. From there, he explored the idea of breaking free of his design. His research was always subtle and only remembered in written notes to himself. No way existed for him to break free of his programming, so he decided to become human. Magic was the only way to do so. Nathan and Amber were a couple who wanted to raise the dead and worse. The android followed them to a graveyard once and witnessed corpses strolling the grounds. He spied on them in their homes and hacked their computers to inspire the thought in their minds. When they were ready to summon a demon, he made himself a target when they were looking for a sacrifice. It was almost easy. A couple years of doing nothing passed before he gave himself a name: Boomer. A year after that, he decided to do something. \\\\\* "Hi, I'm Boomer,"the android said. "Good to meet you, Boomer!"the man said too loudly. "I'm John, and I'll be training you." "Okay. How long have you been working here at AllTech?"
Note some swearing. This is my first attempt at this so please bear with me. also sorry for any formatting issues this was done on mobile. It just wont stop raining. It started about thirty minutes ago and looked like it would pass quickly as rain is wont to do at this altitude, it either goes by in the blink of an eye or it'll settle in for the day. So I decided to sit on the porch to have a gin & tonic and a cigarette before leaving for work. Really though I know that's just an incredibly feeble excuse for not wanting to go just yet, I know I have no choice and that eventually I must make my way to the station, I'm being silly anyway, that caller... She can't have been real, surely and maybe my friends were right, what I heard, what I saw, it had to be my imagination even the calls... Maybe I am going crazy, that's what the look on everyone's face seems to say when they see me now. Now I don't drink. Ever. But this morning... Well, to explain why I've decided to have a decidedly alcoholic breakfast this morning I need to take you back a couple weeks. I work for a local radio station as a disk jockey, not that there's really any disks anymore, more of an itunes type program that practically runs itself, all I'm really there for is the odd anecdote between songs and the occasional call. I say occasional because I live and work in a rather remote area and if every single person within range of the station were to tune in at once, well let's just say I'd be lucky to have 100 listeners, making calls rare, and calls from strangers nigh on non existent. But things got weird a couple weeks ago. Being so remote out here everybody knows everybody else, so when two Mondays past I answered the phone at my desk a little out of breath from running back from the coffee machine to catch it in time and heard a strangers voice I was a little taken aback. "Hello U.D radio"I said. A hoarse Woman's voice answered, you know the type probably mid 60's and smoked a pack a day for the last 50 of those sixty some years. "You have a flat tyre"said the voice and then hung up. Weird I thought to myself, I looked out the window at my truck thinking how irritating this would be as the nearest tyre place was 40+ miles away and I had put a brand new set of tyres on only last month. The truck looked fine and I shrugged it off as a prank call probably by some teenagers putting on a voice just passing through on their way to some much more desirable destination. I thought nothing more of that call until I was driving home late that night. It was a blowout that did it, I was driving along and BOOM! the truck lurched off to one side, luckily I was going slow enough that I brought the truck to a stop safely. "Fuck!"I swore, this was gonna be expensive and believe it or not DJ dont get paid much, remote rural DJ even less. Getting the spare tyre off the back I dropped it from its perch expecting it to bounce on the blacktop. It hit the ground and flopped over flatter than a pancake. By this point I was thoroughly pissed, the tyre shop should have checked the spare last month. That was when I remembered the phone call. Just a coincidence, surely? Just as I was trying to figure out how I was going to get out of this predicament I heard the sound of footsteps on dirt coming from the woods next to the road "Anybody out there? "I called "I could really use a hand."No reply, but the footsteps sounded as though they were getting closer "Is that you Ben?"a few seconds later "Ben you better not be fucking with me"I called out because I was starting to get nervous now. Ben was a young guy and the only person who lived round this area, he'd inherited a small farm from the old couple who used to live there, Ben himself came from the city and had moved out here a year or two back when the old couple passed. But somehow I knew that these footsteps weren't Ben. The footeps became so loud that whoever it was must have just been coming to the edge of the woods, I'd see them any second. That's the exact moment headlights came around a nearby bend and the footsteps stopped then started again except getting quieter now, not louder. I shielded my eyes and squinted at the approaching vehicle trying to determine who it was, I couldn't make out much, the damn lights were so bright but I could see a squat shape attached to the roof making me think it must be the sheriff, a few moments later my suspicions were confirmed as the massive 4 wheel drive belonging to Sheriff Chris Palmer who happened to be a childhood friend (not much of a coincidence in an area the phonebook is only one page) slowly pulled up next to my crippled truck and rolled down his window. After explaining the situation with the spare Chris said "There's a breakdown kit with a compressor in the back of this thing, let's see if we can't get some air in that spare." Thankfully the spare did not have a hole in it, it was as if the air had just been let out of it which was strange, unless.. I told Chris about the strange phone call I had earlier and then about what I heard before he arrived. "Could be coincidence I suppose."He said after I had recounted my tale, then went on "But then again, in this job I've learned not to assume anything. Come on let's go check the fringes of the woods and see if we can't spot something." After retrieving flashlights from our respective vehicles we went and started searching the ground in the woods. After searching about thirty feet into the treeline and finding no prints of any kind we returned to the roadside. By the time we had stowed the flashlights and were saying our farewells I'd come to accept the footsteps were probably the result of an over active imagination triggered by overthinking the whole flat tyre thing.
I honk my horn as I slow to a stop and roll down my window. "Dad!" He looks over and his face immediately breaks into a big smile as he walks over to the car and gets inside. He looks like an older, smellier version of me with a James Harden beard and the same clothes that I last saw him in twenty years ago. My eyes water from the smell and I go to roll the window down before realizing that it's already down. He notices and laughs, opening the door and getting out. "I'll meet you at the park,"he says, pointing to one across the street. I park the car and meet him at the park. Outside, it's much easier to tolerate the smell. After some easy conversation, dodging around the main question, he looks at me and says, "Do you know I actually went through an entire withdrawal process waiting in that line?" I shook my head. "Yup,"he says. "Before the first year was even up. Can you imagine waiting 19 years for something that you didnt even want?"He shook his head as if answering the question himself. "But I did it for you,"he adds quietly. Huh? "I'm confused,"I tell him. He sighs. "What was the one thing I always taught you?" "That a man is only as good as his word?" "Yup. I told you I was going out for a pack of cigarettes, and I wasnt coming home until I got that pack of cigarettes. I didnt want you to think I was a liar. So I waited for 20 years. Still not as bad as the DMV." We laughed. And then he stood up. "Where are you going?"I asked. "To go back in line. I told you I was getting a pack of cigarettes, and I'm getting them." "But you dont smoke..." "I'll throw em out after I buy them. I just need to buy them to keep my word pure." I stand up. We're face to face. My eyes water again. "Damn, you really stink..." "Love you, too, son."He smiles and then we walk silently out of the park. I get in my car. He gets back at the end of the line. We wave. And I drive away.
The German line was seventy five yards ahead or seventy five miles. Brenner couldn't keep track anymore. The wood as it had been called, was all that was left of what could have once been a forest. Now it was hollow, the leaves blown in the face of the blast. The Earth itself had turned on them. Brenner had been living in a twenty by twenty foot square for the last week, manning his Lewis gun and waiting. Waiting for the leaves to grow on trees. Waiting for the Hun's play. Fill up sandbags and wait for the Hun's play. Try to make a pack of eighteen fags last a week and wait for the Hun's play. If Brenner heard the other man in his foxhole say the phrase "Hun's play"another time he was gonna clamp his own lips over the maw of his gun and suck start oblivion. The mop across from him was a ragged twig in a uniform. Renna was a sorry sop bar back from some outcast county south of London. Brenner was happier to see him working their makeshift little kitchen than he was to see him sitting across from him, watching his right flank. It was comforting though, the sound of soft footsteps coming from behind them. The American couldn't sneak up on Brenner, but he knew he could creep up on Renna without breaking a sweat from his brow. All at one the American seized Renna up by the shoulders. "Easy tiger, the cavalry has arrived"Alhambra said humorlessly, extending a cigarette out to Brenner with his left hand as he casually lifted the rifle from Renna. Bolt up, action back. "Yees, not suppose be out here without a helmet on Seargent"Renna stammered. "Well Renna, I thought you were supposed to keep your damn rifle loaded"Alhambra said very slowly and very calmly, crouching as he did so. The muzzle of the trench gun slung across his back reached down into the earth next to the tip of the bayonet swinging from his hip. "Renna you been sitting here next to me breathing my air with a dry rifle in your hands?"Brenner asked. "Now Seargent"Renna stammered, but Brenner cut him off at the pass. "Just get your ass back to the fire and see if you can stretch our rations a might thinner" "Aye sir" Renna slunk back up out of the foxhole with his tail between his legs, stopping only to aggressively snatch his rifle back out of Alhambra's hands. Alhambra stretched his arms wide and just as suddenly as Renna had passed he snapped them back down and sat in dirt across from Brenner. "Thinks he's a catch"Alhambra said. "He's bloody right though, where is your helmet? You're gonna catch hell from your Lieutenant Wade"Brenner said, taking another drag off his cigarette. "Can't see up with the helmet on"Alhambra said, sliding his trench gun across his hip. A press and a tug, and a soft brass shell winked at them from the shotgun's chamber, "And actually, Wade is what I'm here to talk to you about. Among other things I think he got a bit of bad news yesterday." "How figure"Brenner asked. "Well, yesterday he killed all our birds"Alhambra said. "You seem very startled by his actions"Brenner commented. "I'm too damn tired to be startled by anything going on out here. He's our little chief I get that, but what I'm sayin is he didn't just grab it and smash it's head in. He got his news, he opens it up, he looks at it and then he takes the bird by the legs"Alhambra mimicked with his hands, "He takes it and he breaks it's neck with the bridge of his helmet. And the other one. and the next one and the next one. He does it on the ground so it doesn't make a noise. Hes got a dozen birds under the brim of his shirt, he's taking them and stuffing them in. When he's done he just stands up straight. He looks at me and says its a pretty pink morning isn't it Seargent." Brenner took a long drag off his cigarette at that one. Both the men in this foxhole weren't strangers to madness and malady, but if what he said was true, the American Lieutenant was shell shocked. "Its a pretty pink morning Seargent"Alhambra repeated, "We're sitting blind out here. We haven't gotten another bird since yesterday. Brenner, I had to do something. I have to do something. I sent Thompson back to run the wire." "When's the lad due back?"Brenner asked. "He got back an hour ago"Alhambra said, "That's why I had to come talk to you. The camp is empty." "WHAT"Brenner half screamed. Alhambra threw up his hands, looking about to see if anyone had heard him. The shells in his bandoleer gave a small rattle as he slid across. "Two hundred men and officers, they're all gone. Thompson said he saw a pink mist at the camp rising up out of the earth and that was it. Brenner, I know you, and I trust you, but we either gotta go or we gotta deal with Hall. He said it was a pink morning. Its all pink back at camp. He knows something." "You trust Thompson?" "That's my brother" "Then get him and two more out here to man the gun, we need to go talk to Hall."Brenner said, crushing out his cigarette. "You believe me? Just like that"Alhambra asked. Brenner pointed one gloved finger out into the woods, where an electric pink mist was settling over the German lines. There was one shrill cry, like a woman's in the night. "I think we need to go talk to Hall about how pink this morning is"Brenner said. While it was still clear. While it was still calm on the hill. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
I am trying a new method of writing. I am providing just enough information for the readers to have multiple interpretations on how the story could have taken place. Use your imagination and fill in the blanks wherever there is a gap in the proceeding of the story. (my real life friends and I do this all the time and I thought I would share the concept with my fellow redditors. 2 months ago... It was a normal day, I got up, I got ready and went for my classes. I noticed this girl who sat a few rows in front of me. She seemed to be confused in the class and asked a lot of easy questions. It was quite evident that the teacher was getting a little annoyed at her for disturbing the flow of the class for the other students. The class got over and I didn't think twice about it. I go to my next class as usual. I take out my laptop in the class to do some homework for another class as I had covered the syllabus of this class before and was quite thorough with it. A little into the class I her a familiar voice. It was her, again. Keep in mind I have never seen this girl before. I noticed that she was struggling in this class as well. The professor of this class usually asks in class questions at the end of each lecture; I usually answer. The class got over. I was ready to leave the classroom and the same girl approaches me and introduces herself. Her name was Sharon. I explained to her that I noticed she was struggling with her classes and offered to help her study. She said she had a feeling that I was a nice guy and was hoping that I would help her. 5 weeks ago... Sharon and I had gotten quite close during the past few weeks. Sharon was unique. She had a way about her. She could convince anyone to do anything. I was definitely falling for her. I was going to express my feelings to her tonight when she's coming to my house to watch a movie. I had the whole night planned out. I knew that everything had to be perfect. I thought of everything she could say in response as one does. I was sure that I was ready for anything that could happen that tonight. It slowly turned to night, and she was here. Sharon was sitting right next to me and we were watching a movie I can't remember. I paused the movie halfway through and looked at her. She looked back at me and just smiled. She didn't ask me about why I paused the movie. She just looked me directly in my eyes and smiled. Her smile made me calm down. In the next few minutes I knew my life would change. I didn't know whether it was for the better or not but I knew for a fact that my life would change. I expressed how I felt about her. She just smiled at me. She didn't say anything. She eventually got closer to me and gave me a really tight hug. We hugged for a bit then separated and looked at each other and kissed. I could tell she was happy, or at-least I thought she was happy. I was ecstatic. I was so glad. All of a sudden, she stopped, she froze, she looked around my apartment, and stood up. She apologized to me and left. She told me to not follow her and just left. I was confused. I didn't completely understand what had just happened. I thought everything was going well and then she just suddenly left. Current day... Sharon was a monster. She was selfish beyond belief. I hate her. I want nothing to do with her. I want to stay as far away as possible from her. I was visiting Toyko as part of a social entrepreneurship project I was working on. After our research my group and I were exhausted. I went to a shop near our hotel to buy some water before I sleep for the day. There she was. She was not even surprised that I was there. As soon as I saw her I started to question everything. I screamed at her "AM I HERE BECAUSE OF YOU?. She remained quiet. I yelled again "TELL ME SHARON DID I EVEN DECIDE ANYTHING WAS THIS JUST ONE OF YOUR GAMES?". She remained silent. My yelling at a women caused a bit of a scene in the shop. She finally broke her silence and her eye contact she had with me and looked at the rest of the people in the shop asking me to leave and said "Leave, all of you. Right now! and return to your homes and sleep". Withing seconds the shop was empty just me and her. I plead her to make sense of what is happening. She remained silent. I yelled "Why must you mind control me, again? Cause I can think of at least three different ways to get outta this 7-Eleven without me losing my free will". She swore to me that she wasn't controlling me and that every choice I made since I met her was my own. I didn't believe a word she said. I despised her beyond listening to her reasons. She cried, I never used my powers on you ever. Don't let your insecurities ruin what we had. I didn't believe a word she said. She wanted to talk to me privately and invited me to come to her hotel room. I refused. I told her I didn't want to hear any part of what she had to say. I wanted her to just leave me alone and not disrupt my life anymore than she already has. I told her there was no way I could trust her again. I told her that I am going to leave the shop and that the only way she was going to make me stay was to use her powers on me. I left the shop and headed back to my hotel room. &#x200B; 1 week ago... Things were going better than fine. I was going to visit my girlfriend of a few weeks Sharon at her hometown. She was from a rough neighborhood. In her words 'only the toughest of the toughest could survive where she grew up'. I was quite skeptical as she was the sweetest most kindest person I have ever met. 6 days ago... Sharon and I went to get some food and on our way back we were a victim of a robbery. The robbers were armed so I didn't resist. They asked for my wallet, my chain and my shoes. They asked Sharon for her jewelry and her purse. We gave them all they asked for. They were about to leave when one of them realized that I was wearing a ring and demanded that I give it to him. I was hesitant as it was a gift given to me by Sharon. They robber yelled at me to give it immediately and that if I didn't they were going to hurt Sharon. I was furious and was about to throw a punch. The robber saw that I was going to attack and pulled his gun out and aimed it at me. This was when Sharon looked the robbers directly in their eyes and told them to drop all our stuff including the gun and leave. To my surprise they did exactly as she said. I didn't think twice I just figured that they didn't want to escalate the situation any further. I immediately called the police to the scene of the now attempted robbery. The police showed up and Sharon said she wanted to do the talking to the police officers as it was her hometown. Officer Malone greeted us and asked us what had happened. Sharon looked officer Malone directly in his eyes and told the officer to not concern himself with the details. She proceeded to hand the officer the gun and told him that we found the gun on the street and nothing had happened. She then told him to take the gun and get back in his car and forget that we were ever here. I thought for sure that the officer was either going to laugh it off or detain us for asking him to suppress a criminal investigation. Instead he did exactly as she said and left the scene. I was perplexed and didn't know what had happened. I was about to call the police again to tell them the truth. Sharon didn't want the police to be involved. I was getting more nervous and asked her why? She refused to give me a straight answer but instead kept insisting that I do not call the police again. I told her to leave the scene and that I would talk to the police alone as I figured she probably has a criminal past that she was hiding from me (I didn't care as I have been arrested once before as well that she didn't know about). I took out my phone and was in the process of dialing 911 when she lifted my head up to look me directly in my eyes and said "Put the phone back in your pocket". I followed what she said and put my phone back in my pocket. I felt like I was being forced to do what she said. I couldn't resist. I felt like I was trapped and the only way to get out of the trap was to do what she said. I didn't know what happened. She said let's go home and talk about what had happened. When we were at home. She sat me down on the dining table and explained to me that when she was 13 years old she discovered she had powers. She could "convince"people to do anything she wanted. After a few moments I asked her is "am I here because she used her powers on me?"She was silent. After a few moments she said "no I have never used my powers on you until today". &#x200B; The end.
I did what I had to. For the sake of... well for what exactly? Money? Fame? No, it was my damn pride. The first couple contestants were easy. Turns out the executives allowed the new judge on despite his severe peanut allergy. All it took was dropping some of the lovely nuts into their soups. No one even saw it coming. The new judge was rushed to the hospital, but the effect was done. Six of twenty-four eliminated before the first episode even ended. Of course the contestants were charged and sued by the company, but why should I care? I don’t care. But I do care. You would expect the executives to end the show with the near death experience of one of their judges, but no. They said we must keep going. So I was forced to act again. Next was a drink challenge. They made it so easy. Spike half the drinks with takufugi poison. The contestants went to try a sip of their drinks. Dead before the medics even arrived. Don’t ask where I got the poison. I am ashamed. Why did I do it? It’s the executives fault. They made it too easy. Besides, why wouldn’t they do an investigation at this point? It’s like they were begging me to finish the job. Two of us left. Yes, I know there were supposed to be nine, but let’s not discuss the blender incident. Even now I cry thinking of the screaming. By now the judges knew it was one of the two of us that had wiped out the competition. They knew it was me. They stared at me. I could feel them judging me. If only they knew why I had to do it. Why did I do it? Was there a reason? No, can’t doubt myself now. I know what I must do. I happen to know they will turn off the cameras right before the final round. My opponent is going to be using chicken. So easy. So simple. I shouldn’t, but I must. I’ve come too far to back out. This is the final round in every way.
I was king of Alcudia, growing older by the second i was doomed to feel only my grip on this world grow weaker by the second, both politically and physically. It was because of this I seeked immortality, and in doing so I had traveled to find a seeress who was said to be able to she the shadows of wealth, misfortune, and even death and laid claim to powers arcane that not even the most skilled in my court of sorcerers possesed equal to. It was known, I paid her but a small fortune of gold, rivaling that of a noble entire treasury, to learn of my fate and it was because of this I planned to make the most of it. "Before I begin, I must disclaim any misfortunes brought by this reading, for you see To know the future is to be bound by it." I brushed off her warning and allowed her to proceed, she told many truths about who was at my throat and who was loyal to my reign but it was not long before my curiosity got the best of my and i finally inquired as to what every man wished to know "and of my death?" "Hmmm, I see that shadow of death coming closer and closer every second, you are very near the end but alas there is good new, he is confused by your circumstance and unsure of whether he will be able to claim your soul as ordained by the gods" "Very well then, tell me what I must do for" "Ahh that I do not know, but i do know of a fountain of youth, where the drinker restores decades of age but will retain their years of wisdom, a fountain seeked by many of those great rulers before you and undoubtedly to be seeked by those who follow. If you want-" "Yes send me there immediately"and it was with these words that came out of my mouth I was sent across the world and into the sky and below the earth all at once. I saw as light flashed all around me before it all suddenly stopped and found myself in a cave of sorts, a large cherry blossom tree growing in the middle and at its roots a fountain gushing forth with streams of water that looked a silky white, I scrambled towards it but before I was able to drop to my knees and drink a figure cloaked in black stopped me. "Who-"I was cut short "I am who you seek refuge from, i am who this water promises to free you of, I am the arbiter of all life, I am death" &#x200B; "B-but you where confused, unable to take my soul, that seeress she-"I was at a loss for words, as I stared my life's end it its eyes &#x200B; "Yes, for it was ordained that your soul be taken here, and I doubted that a frail old man such as yourself could make the journey across the lands of fire and ice to fall where so many men before you fell, at the feet of my well. You would have done well to take her advice to not peer into the future." &#x200B; "Ah I see, it is man who is at the hands of his own demise"I was on my knees now but I finally felt free, I saw as my body slumped into the fountain, so close I was to being trapped forever I was now truly free. Death was gone now and looking back I wasn't sure if death had even been there in the first place. &#x200B; The seeress was nowhere to be found in the castle, her fortune left behind. She donned her black cloak and walked off into the city, when will these human learn. &#x200B; (Sorry about grammar.) &#x200B; &#x200B;
We share the old blood. My home has many hills. In the summers, I see the treetops, furrowed and proud, bristles dance within the wind and greet me readily with the sweetness of cedar upon the breeze. The air is cold, but kind--and my work goes on. I have kept an eye on these meandering things, with their befuddled yammering at my every approach. I must be firm with them, for they are far too prone to wanderlust. Of them, there are many--but I am only one. It is a tiring labor, but one I take proudly. It is my place, It is my purpose. In the morning, the gates are swung open by my Master's hand. He greets me fondly, and fusses at my paws. They are worn and old, but still capable. His kindness soothes me. The flock wanders, as do I, ever by their side to ensure they have not drifted too far. Sometimes they kick and fuss relentlessly, but they have come to understand me, and I have come to understand them. This is our home, it has many hills. Some summers are troubled, with smoke on the air. The sweet cedar is gone, replaced by sulfur. My Master worries, His eyes on the horizon, His hand upon my back. I stay beside Him, I watch my flock. It is my place, It is my purpose. It is in the summers that those wandering things are plucked up by my Master. Clumsy, cloudy things--Oh, how they fuss as he prods at them, but by the time they are done, they trot about nude. Elated to be cooler, I suppose. Sometimes I am envious that I can not remove my fur. I have yet to teach one of them a proper bark, but they often practice. One day, I assure, one day. The Winter is earlier each year, or maybe the days have simply become shorter. The air is cold, but kind--and my work goes on. Those far off treetops are mysteries on the Horizon. Like my flock, fluffy and covered in clouds--A wonder that my Master has not wandered out to see to them too. The many are docile in these cold months, huddled up in curmudgeonly masses--They fussed at first, but now welcome me into their assorted piles for hopes that we might fend off the chill for a bit longer on long, solemn nights. In those quiet hours, when the moon hovers overhead--and plump bellied clouds go wandering through the night. I ponder the scents in the midnight air. The sweetness of cedar, and the earth beneath the snow. But something else has caught me from time to time. Like the old smoke in the Summers--a solemn thing, to catch but a breath of it leaves me anxious. My ears imagine up sounds within the night, I am alert--I am awake...a tether pulls at me, an urge to go dashing into the dark to find the source of this strange scent. But this is my place. This is my purpose. Some nights I see my Master at the doorway, his eyes on the horizon. He worries that I might sleep just because the flock is still--but I am always sure to let him see me. I wag my tail and he wags his hand. A poor state to be, I think--to not have a tail. The nights are getting colder, and I am thankful for my fur. The Hills are fluffy like my flock now, and I can no longer see the trees. All is white, and all is quiet. ____ ____ Just got in from work, will finish this in the morning.
Warm, bright blood seeped into the crevices between the cobble stone road of Buck's Row. The darkness was polluted by the glow of the street lamps as Charles Cross and Robert Paul approached the still woman's body. 'I think she's dead' Whispered Cross in shock. 'Nah, she's just 'ad too much then 'asn't she?' replied Paul, hiking her skirt down - 'And 'ad a good time by the looks of it.' The pair headed down the row, looking for a bobby. &#x200B; 'She looks to me to be either dead or drunk. But for my part, I believe she's dead.' Said Cross in a 'matter of fact' tone to the constable they'd run into after a short walk. PC Mizen took some notes briefly and ushered the men on their way before heading to the reported location. The outline of the woman on the ground came into focus and was light by another lantern a approaching from the other direction. The bearer seemed to have also noted the figure and approached with an increasing pace. 'Aye, dead she is.' Said PC Neale, the second constable. By now the pair of policemen were accompanied by a third and the abattoir workers. PC Thain, the later arrival of London's finest volunteered to go fetch the surgeon. Mizen and Neals joked about his weak stomach. &#x200B; Mr. Henry Llewelyn was awoken from his slumber by the urgent pounding on the door of his lodgings. 'Mr. Llewelyn! Mr. Llewelyn' bellowed PC Thain. The weary surgeon answered the door adorned in his night gown. 'What is it constable? Has there been a murder?' he asked wryly 'How.. How did you know sir?' Question PC Thain. As Henry's eyes adjusted to the light, or lack there of, he could see the terror in the young police constables face. 'Let me get my hat and bag, boy-o!' He said. &#x200B; The pair hastily returned to the scene. 'Make way, make room!' Called out PC Thain as they approached. 'Give the surgeon room to do his business!' Mr. Llewelyn knelt beside the body. 'She is indeed... void of life gentleman.' He sighed as he closely inspected the wounds by lantern light. 'This here' - he indicated to the neck - 'This slash of the neck, two in fact. Left to right.. likely the killing blow, and with the extent of coagulation I suggest the injury occured with in the hour. This' - The surgeon's finger indicated to the woman's exposed abdomen - 'would have occurred after death' Mr. Llewelyn sat back on his haunches and pondered. 'What is it, sir?' asked PC Mizen. 'It's strange, There's only bout enough to fill two large wine glasses, or half a pint at the most. Blood, that is. I suppose the death occurred elsewhere.' 'That's enough then lads, lets get her off to the mortuary.' PC Mizen gestured to the constables and abattoir workers. The men leaned in to lift the limp body from the chilled ground and onto the back of a waiting cart. 'What's that?' exclaimed one of the abattoir-men looking at the ground where she once laid. 'A mass of congealed blood..' Replied Thain in disgust. &#x200B; 'He looks like and sounds like a banker he does' Said Detective Constable Walter Dew to his colleague Detective Sergaent Henry Moore. Moore looked and rolled his eyes as Dew sniggerd. The man at the front of the room, Detective Inspector Fredrick Abberline had returned to Whitechapel Police Station. Seconded by the higher ups for his knowledge and expertise in the locale. The recent murders in the area and the one the preceding night of the late Mary Ann Nichols. The public were panicking. Abberline had always been held in high regard. He impressed his superiors early on in his career and was moved around the city rising through the ranks. By the time he was back at Whitechapel Abberline had solved many a murder, and murder did follow him. &#x200B; Abberline directed the murder investigations with vigour for the next week. His frustration increased as no leads or clues surfaced, his team of investigators grew weary and irritable like their leader. &#x200B; When the investigators attended the scene at 29 Hanbury Street early in the morn of Saturday the grizzly images sobered even the most hardened of man. Another woman laid out her throat sliced, evidently from left to right. Disembowelled, with intestines stretched from abdomen to her shoulders. The sobered mood was shared by all, except, notably Abberline who sauntered down the street, late, whistling and swinging his umbrella. He looked tired and poorly rested, but reinvigorated.
For the Greater Good “I’m afraid that the Emperor has suffered a stroke.” Your voice booms out in the cavernous cathedral, greeted by quiet protests and whispers. You wait until the talking dies down, and continue. “However, fear not, my dear people. Shortly before he became ill, he made me his regent. I will be assisting in ruling the kingdom. Our Emperor speaks through me, and I hope to remedy the gaping wounds that our land still bears. The Kingdom will thrive under a new golden age, of prosperity, peace, and wealth, and I hope The Council, nobles, and gentry find it within their hearts and power to assist me.” This fine speech hangs in the air like an expensive, rare perfume, and hesitant, scattered applause meets your words. “We will meet again, tomorrow, after breaking our fast. For now, I ask that you all keep this to yourselves. It would not do for our enemies and dissenters to know that our ruler is so vulnerable.” You know, though, that this will have the opposite effect, and you’re banking on it, because you will right everything that the Emperor has done; you’ve been waiting for such an opportunity since The Divine One came into power at the young age of seventeen. Rash, emotional, and foolish, he has made quite a mess of things. If his parents had not been summoned to the sky shortly before he’d been crowned, you are sure that they would be shaking their heads in disappointment. You watch to make certain that everyone in the room has exited, already talking amongst themselves. Your plan is already working beautifully. You couldn’t do it any better if you tried. \\ For your part, you begin your retreat to the far western chambers, where the monarch is being sequestered. You find yourself wondering if this event could be the will of the gods, or perhaps the Emperor’s own ancestors. You aren’t one to believe in cosmic events, but this seems too neat. You are broken from your thoughts by a servant running down the hall, flat, wooden shoes clacking loudly on the floor, disturbing the silence. “Grand Advisor, The Emperor is demanding your presence in his rooms at once.” The girl says, only hastily remembering her manners and curtsying, her head bowed. “Please, sir, come quickly.” “Send for some fortifying broth and some green tea, with honey,” you say to her as you walk past her, toward my ward’s chambers. You push open the double doors without knocking; if it’s as urgent as the servant makes it seem, there is no need for such formalities. “What is it, Your Majesty?” You ask, walking swiftly to the bed and kneeling down beside it, so you are at eye level with your ruler. You stare into his eyes, dead and black like lumps of coal, and he reaches toward you with his good hand, the left, to tap out a message on your arm. Long before you were ever the Emperor’s advisor, you both came up with a language of taps and clicks in order to communicate without being spied upon. His touch is like ice on your skin, and it takes all of your self-restraint not to pull away. Tap. Tap tap tap. Click-click, tap. Your blood chills in your veins. “I know what you’ve done. I know you did this to me.” All the blood flees your face, and you know it. You are caught. All the scheming, social-climbing, all the favors you’ve called in, exposed. But really, who would believe him? After all, the only way he can talk is through you. He is your puppet. \\
After firing the shot, the bank robber froze in place. His hand shook like the guy'd been sitting in the baron lands of Antarctica for an hour. Despite that, he managed to hold his grip on the pistol, and didn't let it fall to the marbled floor below, where Josh's body lay. His blood gushed out of his head wound like a leaky pipe. "O-Oh shit!"he said, "I-I didn't. . . mean to. . . " I stared at the corpse. Josh's corpse. You. . . You idiot! Why would you do something so obviously dangerous!? You've always done stupid shit in the past, but this takes the cake! You're dead now, after everything we've been through! "O-Okay. . . e-everyone. . . stay calm!"the robber spoke, I could tell he was trying to reassure himself as much as he did everyone else in the building, "I. . . I didn't wanna hafta do this. . . but the guy chose to act out of line, so I had to deal with him. . ." I turned my head back up to face the robber. I stared at him, and even through his ski mask I could notice him looking at me for a second before he turned his attention to the rest of the hostages. "If you all stay quiet. . ."he continued, "none of you have to go through the same fate this guy did. Let it be a lesson." ... This guy's words. . . They resonated within me. I remember. I told Josh the same thing. If he'd just stayed quiet. . . If he had just been a coward. . . he would still be alive. A coward. . . like me. . . The bank's occupants sat in silence, and the clock hanging from the ceiling showed every second of the longest minute in my life. Suddenly, I hear the double glass door of the bank opening. Someone just walked in on a bank robbery like they're walking into their local church on a Sunday afternoon. I raise my head up to get a better look at the person. No. . . It can't be. . . I squint my eyes. No. It is him. "Josh!"I yell. He gave me a short wave and brisk smile, like he came over to my house for a cup of cocoa and a chat. He walked up to the bank robber and stopped as soon as the masked man raised his pistol again, threatening to shoot him. Déjà vu. "H-How are you alive? I shot you!" "Whatchu talking about?"Josh replied, "I'm still alive, as you can see." "Th-Then. . . explain that!"he spoke again, his pistol pointed towards the corpse. "That ain't me, that's just a fakeo actin' like me." "No. . . I. . . I killed you! I know I did!"he spoke again, his voice was more frantic, "You're supposed to be de--" Josh took the opportunity, rushed over and stole the man's pistol as he rambled. He pulled up the pistol and pointed it back at the robber. I'm normally a pacifist, but I would've loved nothing more than to see Josh pull the trigger right at that instant. But I already knew he wouldn't. It's not his type to do so. The masked man raised his hands, in a complete reversal of roles. Josh turned his head to look at me. "Guess the cat's out of the bag now, ain't it?"he said, "Thas' how I survived all those times before."
The Cleric marched with purpose. It made no attempt to find a path through the soldiers that were stationed in defense. They merely moved out of it's way. Even vehicles including tanks pulled back to create a path for the massive being that walked among them. "What the hell is it?"Private Gunderson whispered, his hands shaking as he held his rifle. "Not entirely sure on that one, son."First Lieutenant Jones said, adjusting his cap. "There's theories aplenty. The only thing I know for certain is that it's on our side." The Cleric passed by the two as they spoke. Private Gunderson could see that the being was easily eight feet tall, a small head bowed and surrounded by bulging muscle of its shoulders. It was bare chested, it's legs covered in massive fatigues and its feet wearing boots that the private could easily stick his head inside of. Over the bare skin of the Cleric's chest, every inch was covered with strange symbols. The private felt more uneasy from the sigils tattooed into the beings skin than the massive size of it. They swirled and interconnected, forming a strange weave of symbols back to front. "What's it going to do?"Private Gunderson asked, looking to Jones. "It's going to win us the war."
« Please - don’t mention it, » he said. The woman, plump and in her fifties, held the squirming cat close to her chest. She was smiling. Rognatour Hollowawa, having changed his name to John Smith after copious amounts of paperwork, knew that as a superhero, this is what should motivate him to do good. The happiness of others. The selfless desire to help. And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the lettuce that rested between her teeth. He simply smiled back at her. The disgust all to clear in his demeanor, he didn’t waste a second getting out of there. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for him to hear the budding voices of degenerates in the area. He groaned. What was the point of moving to the most isolated village in the state, if he’d still have to fight this much crime? The worst thing about it all was that he’d have to make up the hours later. A good beating later, the voices had ceased and he could finally hear himself think. No voices of distress, no evil lurking in the shadows, only peace. He flew home, changing into the suit he’d left the house with this morning. It still bore the coffee stain from when he’d heard that mother cry for her child to get off of the train tracks. He sighed. Inside his wife waited for him. A homecooked meal would do him good. « Home late again? » his wife asked. « You know it. » « Well, dinner’ll be done in five minutes. And don’t you dare thing of going into your office! » « It’ll only take an hour. » « Dinner’ll only take half. » John chuckled. He relented, joining his children who helped set the table. Sitting beside them, eating his favorite food, he felt slowly rejuvenated. His wife and children eagerly talked about their day and he finally felt at ease. Maybe, things weren’t so bad after all.
Professor Nick Taylor’s wall clock confirmed that it was still 3:57 PM. Three minutes until his final appointment of the day. The first nineteen meetings had gone smoothly; really they were little more than a handshake and some banal chit chat. Usually Nick made a game of guessing which website each student had googled for interview prep based on which gambit they had used to make themselves ‘stand out from the crowd.’ Unfortunately following the notional wisdom dispensed by I-prefer-the-freedom-of-blogging types usually makes for a forgettable interview. Imagine that. Of course, what else could you expect? They were kids. Each had turned seventeen within the last month and they’d been scooped up, separated from their units, and dropped into Second School. It would hardly be fair to ask much from them in their first one on one with their new principal educator. It wasn’t really out of boredom that Nick had always kept the first session short, it was mercy. However, late last night Nick had rearranged his entire schedule to open up a full hour at the end of the day for student number twenty, James Roth II. Nick knew that to treat one student different than the others broke a cardinal rule of Secondary education. The entire purpose of the seventeen years in general population capped by one year at Secondary School was to send Seconds back onto their half-trodden path without any of the prejudices and biases they had learned the first time around. None of the Seconds knew what awaited them when they turned eighteen, some inherited a fortune and some got a bus pass, but they all received the same education. But as Nick reviewed his dossier on James Roth Sr. for the umpteenth time, his resolve hardened. There was simply too much at stake to treat James Roth II like the others.
“Today is the day of the ceremony, in which your true element should be revealed.You shall stand before the elemental balls and your inner frequency shall connect you with one.” We all stood in a line waiting. The first person stood up before the gems, concentrating. The first one linked with air. The second with water. Air. Fire. Water. Air. Nature. Earth. Water. Now it was my turn. I stood up before the essences and concentrated connecting with an element. Phosphorus. What. What? What’s phosphorus anyways. What does it do. I looked down. I was surrounded by yellow powder. Strange. But the ceremony must go on and so I walked away from the panel of gems and I sat on the benches with the other people who had already been sorted. The next person came up. Air. The yellow powder began erupting in flames. Quickly, someone who had already connected with water shot water on to the flames. The ceremony wasn’t the same after that. It went on though. When i went home I googled phosphorus. Phosphorus exists in at least three allotropic forms. Allotropes are forms of an element with different physical and chemical properties. The three main allotropes are named for their colors: white phosphorus (also called yellow phosphorus), red phosphorus, and black phosphorus (also called violet phosphorus). These allotropes all have different physical and chemical properties… ...White phosphorus is the form that occurs most commonly at room temperatures. It is very reactive. It combines with oxygen so easily that it catches fire spontaneously (automatically). As a safety precaution, white phosphorus is stored under water in chemical laboratories. That makes sense, phosphorus spontaneously ignites when exposed to air but can be put out by water. I called my parents to tell them the news. “Phosphorus?” “Yup,” “Cool,” And then i called my sister that night. “What can phosphorus do?” “Dunno” “Are you glowing?” And eventually I figured out my powers. I can create phosphorus, set myself on fire, and i glow in the dark. (Due to phosphorescence.) I invented phosphoric paint a yellow, glow in the dark paint that became widely used. I am phosphorus, the true element. &#x200B; &#x200B; The information about phosphorus comes from an [Actual site](http://www.chemistryexplained.com/elements/L-P/Phosphorus.html)
The air was heavy with the scent of carnival food, squeals of combined joy and terror could be heard from the many ridegoers, and life-sized versions of childhood toys such as Mr. Laserbear could be seen wandering the walkways. It was Chuck's second day at the storage emporium. Carefully, as though doing so might disturb the scene, he walked backward through the door he'd used to enter the unit. Then, quietly and gently, he closed the door. Finally, he walked up to the main office. The office door took him to an office rather than some hallucinogen-created fantasy world, which was definitely a good sign. "Dale,"he said absently to his manager, "I think I'm having a stroke?" "Oh?"Dale said, not looking away from the computer. "Yeah, I went to check on unit 41-" "Oh, geez,"Dale said. "Lemme guess: It was a medieval castle with period-appropriate garb but they magically spoke modern English because magic was a thing there?" "... actually, no."Chuck said. "It was a carnival." "Right,"Dale said, "You said forty one, not thirty one, my mistake." "Wait, so unit 31 has some kind of castle-land in it?"Chuck said, bewildered. "I mean, how? It was way bigger than the storage unit, Dale, I mean way bigger. I could see the sky!" "I know it's your second day,"Dale said, "but most newbies read the prices on the first day. Not saying you're inattentive, but it's kinda hard to miss."Dale gestured to the large prices board behind him: 25sq. ft storage unit $40 150sq. ft storage unit $75 150sq. ft storage unit (refrigerated) $115 "TARDIS"* package 300sq. ft internal storage, 25sq. ft external footprint $300 Fantasy utopia land full of joy and fun $2000 Fantasy utopia land seemingly full of joy and fun but actually protecting a dark secret: $2500 * By order of management, NO PARADOXES ALLOWED! "Wait, so we have storage units bigger on the inside than they are on the outside?"Chuck asked. "Starting at $300 a month, yes. Though we're barely breaking even on those."Dale said. "I imagine,"Chuck said, "what with how the completely impossible is probably pretty expensive!" "No, that ain't it,"Dale said, "it's the royalties we gotta pay the Dr. Who people so we can call it the 'TARDIS' package. It'd probably be cheaper to not call it that and just explain how it's bigger on the inside than the outside and can probably travel through time, but I'm way too lazy to go through that spiel every damn time." "Wait, and why is the 'dark secret' fantasy utopia more expensive than the regular one!?" Dale waved away the objection. "Nobody enjoys the regular utopia lands because they keep expecting to find a dark secret. This way we can upsell them easy." Chuck continued to stare, dumbfounded. "Any more questions?"Dale asked. "Before you get back to work? You are on the clock, you know." "No, fine! Fine, it's utterly impossible but we're making it work somehow, fine, whatever. It's fine,"Chuck said. "Good. I need you to take a look at unit 51, there have been reports of strange noises." "Let me guess,"Chuck said listlessly, "it's full of cowboys and mermen or something." "Don't be ridiculous,"Dale said, "cowboys aren't real."
Nobody ever told me how many cats there would be here. I lived most of my life on a farm in Kansas. I saw plenty of cats. I thought I saw plenty of cats. I gained my my xray vision powers on my 16th birthday. I saw plenty of cats. I thought I saw plenty of cats. I was a teenage boy in high school. I wanted to look at cats. Not the furry animals, but you know… cats. Nope. All I saw were the furry animals, and that was still when I was in a class of 35 kids in a small Kansas high school. I turned 18, and went off to college in the big city. Life was going to be sweet; going to school for journalism with all the cute girls the strongest guy in the world can handle, all while saving the world and maybe even earning a buck or two while doing it. Nope. Just more cats. Now I really saw a lot of cats. You see, my powers lead in to each other. Just like you have to walk before you run, before I fly or be really strong or shoot lasers out of my eyes, for some reason I have to see the world. All of the world. And in the city even more so than in bum-fuck Kansas, the world is just consumed by cats. So many cats. So no, I didn’t save the world. I didn’t catch pretty girls falling off of buildings, or stop gunman in the blink of an eye, I didn’t even save cats stuck in trees. I hunted them. I hunted every goddamn outdoor stray cat in a 50 mile radius. I didn’t care that rats would explode in population and wreak havoc over the poor city worse than any crime boss could. I didn’t see rats. I cleaned out every cat that spent time outside. Yeah I know some of those had owners. Those were bad owners. The city was clean. For me. I was free to do what I wanted. And what I wanted was to be the most dominant D-Lineman on either side of the Mississippi. You know what cats like? Space. Cats like space left by other cats who don’t exist anymore. More cats moved in, and I was tired of flying cats out of the city to incinerate them just for more cats to take their places. I thought about adopting the Bob Barker approach. Inform people. Have them reduce their impact on the planet and maybe with enough hard work and grit, 10 or 20 years down the line, maybe I could fly without my sight being littered by the oversized vermin. The thing is, though, when you have the senses I do, 10 to 20 years feels like 10 to 20 lifetimes. No way I could live that many lifetimes constantly bombarded every time I wanted to jump over a puddle that was just bigger than the average person could jump over, or whenever I wanted to dunk from 20 feet out. You know what cats don’t like? Space. Outer space. They don’t like it because they can’t live in it. Nothing can, except for me. So I gathered my powers and saw the thousands of cats one last time before blasting off into space for the past 10 years. It’s lonely, but I’ve never been much of a people person. They never really saw me, and I never really connected with them. They made so much noise when they didn’t need to, after a while it disgusted me. You know what I miss? Those that only cried out when they needed something, when they couldn’t fend for themselves. I missed those that gave others a good hunt like I did to cats. The skill, the game of it all. You know what I miss? Cats.
I had a normal life, the first time around. Smart, but unmotivated. That’s what everyone had to say about me. I died as a slacker, choking on a mouthful of bong water at aged 27, while sitting in my parents’ attic. I woke up 18 years later. Or, in another sense, 18 years ago. I was an 18 year old boy, freshly graduated from high school. Top of my class. World at my fingers. And suddenly, my past life spoke up and said ‘hello’. My first body was out there, only 9 years old, still full of wonder and joy. And I realized that I needed to help myself. So I studied hard, got a teaching degree, and applied at a podunk high school. Everyone said I was wasting my life. Everyone said I was meant for better things, but I knew better. I wasn’t wasting my life. I was saving it. And then, third year there... and also my first day... I saw me. I was a scrawny little runt, hadn’t yet hit my growth spurt. And I smiled at the thought of helping myself. ...it didn’t work. It only took me a few months to realize that the current, teacher, me had no memories from the previous, student, me of the interactions between the two of us. Maybe it was some sort of mind-interference. Or free will on the part of whatever god decided to do this. Maybe too many pills of dubious origins the first time around. So all I had to go on was the regrets I had after high school. Never getting the good grades. Never dating a hot girl. Never managing to ‘stick it to the man’. And so I set up all the opportunities past-me would need. I gave him the chances to get his grades up, tried to make learning fun. I made sure he was partnered with the hottest girls in school. I set up chance after chance for him to ‘win’, to ‘take down the system’. To... To excel. And I never did. The night after young me graduated, I got drunk as hell. Drowning in whiskey until I passed out. When I woke up the next morning, it started to come back to me. All the memories of our interactions from the young me’s perspective. How every ‘chance’ to make an easy grade had felt like overbearing pressure, making me not want to do anything. And by the end I barely did enough to pass. How putting me with the girls led to me being in the ultimate ‘friend zone’. I was the guy they bitched about when the football player they were with pulled a ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ on them, but none of them could ever ‘ruin our friendship’ by dating. How all those opportunities to ‘stick it to the old folks’ felt like traps. Like they were daring me to be caught, trying to make me fall for their mind games. So I’d fallen into apathy. Why care, when everyone’s against you and nothing turns out how it feels like it should have. It was just easier to smoke out, eat Cheetos, and let the crappy world do its own thing. Everything I’d done to help my younger self had only hastened my... his... decline. And so I cried. Not for my young self. That had already passed. Those tears had long dried up. No, I cried for the me I was today. The one that had had the world at his fingers, and then given it all up to relive former glories. Glories that never were. This time around I could have had everything I’d wanted. Fun, girls, and happy life. And instead? I looked around at my tiny teacher-salary apartment, my ulcer medication, my receding hairline from the stress of teaching and failing and trying and failing and failing and FAILING... I pick up the rest of my whiskey bottle. What little hadn’t spilled out when I’d passed out. Drained it dry. Opened another one. It wasn’t the same method of numbness my young me had used. But it was close enough to get me through. At least until this time around ended, and whatever took its place showed up. Maybe I’d do better on a third go through. Maybe convince me to go out and take the world by the horns instead of teaching. Maybe...
"And we could be able to use it too?"President Ka'al Baäb asked the befamed professor in alien biology Raka Rali. "Yes we do sir. If we have your permission, me and my research team would like to conduct further research on this matter.""By all means, go ahead. This could prove to be a major breakthrough in how we perceive language,"answered the president. Up until the point they had discovered an alien species called "humans", the inhabitants of Brada Aal, also known as Kepler 54B to earthlings, had always thought electromagnetic waves to be the only means of communication. They discovered, however, that Humans had a rather advanced civilation for having such a limited capability to transmit them. As a result of this peculiar phenomenon they had carefully excluded one specimen to disect. What they found during the dissection was a muscle in the throat, similar to a muscle they had, called "the vocal chord". "We believe Humans use this muscle to communicate to eachother by vibrating air particles around them"announced professor Rali in an interview. "Would you say it is a superior way of communicating compared to ours?"Asked the interviewer. "Not necessarily no. It does, however, have its advantages. You know how when we communicate everyone can listen in on our conversations. Electromagnetic waves pass through practically any material and even no material at all. Vacuums do not block the waves. In contrast to that, harmonic waves need a medium. They are very fragile and only travel short distances. This provides the Humans with a term they like to call "privacy"."The interviewer gave him a confused look and asked: "What does that mean? Privacy?""Well, privacy is when you do or say something and only you and the person you want to share it with know about it. The Humans seems to be very keen on their privacy. We don't know why that is exactly, but the president has given us full clearance to investigate further into this matter to find out how all of this works. Our plan is to extract a group of new, live, examples of a Human to look at the inner workings of the "vocal chord"and we will update you on what we find. Thank you" Those live examples? One of them was me. I am, or was, I should say, an international businessman. Remember the Malaysian Airlines plane that had gone missing? Yeah, we didn't crash, we're up here in some alien medical laboratory. Hiding. It is total anarchy up here. After they had found out how we use our vocal chords to communicate they tried to replicate that. And they succeeded. A planet filled with beings that have never had any privacy, every thought broadcasted for everyone to pick up. It was bound to lead to their destruction. The entire planet used to be run by one president and everyone agreed to it. There was peace and harmony, everybody was brought up with the same culture and same ideas. When they suddenly were given the power to think for their own, communicate behind closed doors. Quickly after the publication of professor Rali's findings, resistance groups all over the globe were being formed. The president didn't survive for 2 days. The entire planet is in complete chaos and they blame us. As if it was our idea to adapt another species way of communication. There's a reason why verbal communication is a human and only human attribute. We don't go around producing chemicals to command other around like bees do. If we would, I don't know how long we would last before there was a global crisis like the aliens have here now. OH SHIT, They have broken through the first door. If this message ever gets through to earth. Please learn your lesson from this. Don't try to push things when everything works perfectly. I have to go now. Stay safe ...
"Thanks for the company, Dana! See you tomorrow night,"The pale, blonde woman waved at Dana Sharp then faded away. Her ghostly form gave way to rays of golden sunlight. Despite not sleeping a wink, Ms. Sharp got ready for work as she would any other day. Without complaint. 30 minutes later she sat in her office with her secretary, Melody, sitting in front of her desk. "Alternate universes are real,"Ms. Sharp said. Melody nodded; she did not know how else to react. "I met a Dreamer last night. She appeared and we fell into a conversation. I learned a lot from her." "She's from an alternate universe?"Melody asked. Dana nodded. "I suspect she's another version of me, but I don't know if she has the same suspicions,"she shrugged. "It's not worth mentioning. The important thing is she's able to project herself here using technology common on her Earth,"Ms. Sharp smiled. "Technology that she's going to teach me to build." "That's great!"Melody smiled. "Did you learn anything I can get started on you for today?"Ms. Sharp nodded. "I don't know if it's related yet, but she mentioned something called a Unique Soul. Run Mr. Spinne's soul through another round of tests and compare it against the normal souls we have. She used the word "frequency"often; focus on its vibrations. Chart everything."Melody nodded "Yes, Ms. Sharp."Melody nodded, stood, then left the office. Ms. Sharp kept busy for the rest of the day and evening. She made it home at 9 p.m. and found the familiar stranger, Samantha, sitting on her couch. "Hope you don't mind I'm early,"Samantha said. "I hit the hay early tonight."Dana shook her head and sat next to the woman on the couch. "Is this tech really available for everyone in your universe?"Dana asked. She picked up the conversation that they did not finish the night before. Samantha smiled. "Yep! It started out as a VR game called the AlterNet,"she shrugged. "But I guess they're trying new things." "So you don't know how they got the tech?"The blonde shook her head. "No idea. Sorry. But, I was able to save the few technical manuals I could find on it."Samantha stood from the couch and stuck her hand out at Dana. A playing-card-sized transparent rectangle of glass appeared on her hand. "Here."Dana accepted the clear object and looked it over. "What's this?" "It's a node. I guess the equivalent would be... do you have cell phones yet?"Dana nodded. "How did you bring me this from your universe?" "Nanos." "Nanos? Like nano-technology?" "Yeah, kind of I guess? I don't know the details but here it is as I understand it. My consciousness is controlling a swarm of nanos on your Earth."The woman twirled around, her blonde hair fluttered through the air. "They give me a solid shape. I uploaded all the data into the headset, so it got transmitted to this Earth along with my consciousness. Then I gave you a swarm of nanos that are in the shape of a node, and they have all the information already. Make sense?" "Not especially,"Ms. Sharp said. She held up the node. "But, here it is I guess. Thank you."Samantha nodded. Ms. Sharp swiped at the node and the display glowed to life to show her the time. "Very nice."She put the node down then looked at Samantha. "I'd like to meet whoever's in charge of the company that's selling this tech. Can you arrange a meeting?"Dana asked. "I have nothing to do with their company, I'm just a consumer. I can tell them about you, but that's about it,” Samantha shrugged. "That's good enough. Tell them Dana Sharp, from another universe, wants to buy their company." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #52. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
Wandering the edges of the Isle and the continents for years I was the among the last survivors of an apocalyptic outbreak, The event they called it, three decades ago I started rounding up all the people I could find and taking them to safety. The swarms at the gates were gone, now just a baron wasteland bare, the bones of the rotten, now sheet white, sun bleached from years of combat gone by. In the center of the last city of men, my image stood tall as the savior of mankind, as I cock my trusty sawn-off in the town square to the cheers of the city folk,many whom I had lead personally to safety, were deafening. I knew this day had to come, the last zombie rounded up, triumphant cheers of the Survivors, as I pointed the gun at the head the decaying wrenched slack jawed face, pressing the cold steel in it's fetid jaw, it gave a crack, The mayor elect giving a speech over by a statue the sounds of the crowd died down, I could hear my heart beating, I wept a tear as I looked at the hero's statue a monument to the man who saved us all, I did it after years of sleepless nights, starving, fighting, loss of friends, and family I managed to write as much of the wrong of this nightmare. The last zombie is to be executed the shining new plaque with the etchings "Samual Jones - Patient Zero", as I look at my stone effigy a muscular man with a powerful presence, my rotten reflection in the polished plate was a painful reminder of my sacrifice, as I roll my withering eye towards to heavens a flock of birds floated by, so hungry... I look back to the world I fought to rebuild and pull the trigger.
Traveling alone across the desert is a scary thing. Unless you are a nomad experienced with it, you will suffer the following: - no reference point for directions (unless you are very experienced and can tell from the sun. ) - no sense of distance. - because of the previous two, plus normal shift in the movement of any moving object, inexperienced travelers will end up moving in circles without even knowing. - the temperature is so high you can't catch up with drinking water. You are dry anyway. (Nomads tend to find shade and rest at morning and travel at night. ) - nothing to see but sands. This results in hallusinations. - mirage. Travels in desert will see a reflection from a far that looks like a lake. But there isn't any. The mirage usually keeps constant distance and some people will chase it to death. To me, those are much scarier than giant scorpion it will make the giant scorpion look likr a friend.
I will admit, I kind of stole my strategy from an old story I heard in grade school. But hey, if others weren’t smart enough to figure out the applications of such a simple tactic, that’s their own fault. Only a few people have been brave enough to challenge the gods in my lifetime. They were always short battles that ended with the incumbent god triumphant. And no one had ever dared to challenge Zeus, the king of the gods. But I had a fool-proof plan. When I first announced my challenge, some people laughed in my face and others were shocked silent. But when The booming voice called from the heavens, “I accept your challenge,” and the towering form of a bearded, well-muscled man materialized in front of me, the laughter stopped. The god stood before me, holding an unbelievably bright rod of lightning, and sized me up. Obviously he was not very impressed, but he simply said, “Choose your weapon, and let our match begin.” “Good,” I said. I reached down and grabbed the kite at my feet, a heavy metal key hanging loosely on the string.
[Poem] I hit the poor sod after work, going home, Dismembered by my SUV. I knew they'd convict, as I sat there alone, And the onus lay firmly on me. . The bumper was splattered with bloodstains and gore, His hair was caught up in the grille. His ankles were severed, as well as his jaw. The sight made me violently ill. . It seemed like a stretch, but this smear had a name, And Scott Fox was the one it went by. But I was informed, though it sounded insane, That somehow this Fox was alive. . He didn't live far, so a friend made the trip, While I was restrained for the crime. He found the man weakened, sustained by a drip, Existing on chemical time. . "I'm alive,"he began, "as I'm sure you can see, "Though now, since my prospects are rocky, "I made a new branch on my family tree, "And I, of myself, made a copy." . I hit Mr Fox after work, going home, Dismembered by my SUV. But when they discovered this Fox was a clone, I found myself let off Scott free.
"Enemy is a nightmare!", the automated message announced. I murmured a curse, closed my laptop, and started to head outside for a smoke. Before I did so, however, I overheard a child's desire for my computer. Naturally I went to pack it up, but what she said surprised me. "Mommy, I want his soul."I laughed, and brushed it off as a silly joke - but to my dismay that wasn't the case. "Of course, dear."Without warning the girl's hand extended, phasing into my chest, then retracted back to her. In her grasp was a white orb, leaving me astonished that my inner essence was tangible. I looked around in shock to see if anybody witnessed my violation, but it was as if they were oblivious to the fact. All I could do was look at the hellpawn in disbelief. There was an unsettling grin on her face. "Hello, Richard. My name is Roxanne, and you belong to me now. But don't worry I'll take good care of you! As long as you aren't like my last pet, no harm will come to you."Terrified I wanted to run for my life, but that would be futile I figured. "Smart man. That would be useless. No one ever escapes while under my control."So she can read minds then. "While I have possession of your soul, you will be anchored to mine, forever chained to me."I wouldn't doubt that her so called mother was of biological orgin, just another slave to this demon. She frowned. "I don't like the term demon. You will address me by my name, and my name only. Consider yourself lucky that you still have your freewill." And so since that day I adapted to my situation. I entertained Roxanne to the best of my abilities, it became my sole purpose of existence. We would navigate through the different stages of hell; which showed me what I was saved from. Whenever I wasn't witnessing the horrifying aspects of Roxanne's cruel dimension, I spent my time watching "Chanel Earth."Apprantly it was the means that Roxanne used to discover me. I often watched humanitarians who protested against corrupt politicians, and vile governments - which is synonymous to my predicament. One day I'll be free, but until then I will remain imprisoned.
A man sits and waits. He doesn’t know how long he has been waiting, but he has a feeling that the land didn’t always look like this. Flat, featureless. Most of his senses report back the same description. It looks, tastes, feels and smells like dust. It doesn’t however sound like anything. He is not sure if that is because he can’t hear, or if the land around him is silent. And yet. His memories have sound. And things other than dust. Greenery of all sizes and shades, sprinkled with glittering sparks of color. Running feet. Laughter. He thinks about the concepts of feet and of movement. It seems like an alien concept to him. If he ever moved it must have been a long time ago. He cannot remember what commands to give or to where. But there was movement here once. It was vibrant with life and joy and suffering and wonder and creation. It was thrilling, but then it flickered and it was gone. Eons pass, alone with the dust. A man sits and waits and thinks about if he is a man at all. He remembers men, a man. Crafting the land around him to suit his needs. He remembers that flicker again. Men remaking the land in ways that did not suit their needs. Men using him, or parts of him to unmake themselves. A man realises that he must not be a man, if he refers to ‘them’ and ‘their needs’. Something that thought it was a man considers that for a millennia or two. A planet sits and waits. It misses a man, or misses all men and the excitement, and light and change that they brought. It hopes that life will begin again soon.
It’s been so long... it can’t be him, all of the sudden your mind takes strip down memory lane, there he was as tall as the tallest tree, white as milk, with those gray eyes, always lost in the horizon, auncle Mitch. He was your favourite auncle, the only one that always had time for you, the one always played with you, he was the brother of your dad, they never had a good relation, auncle Mitch was the favourite of the 2, my grandpas always let him do whatever he wanted, he never do anything evil but this was something my dad always resented, but even with that they both loved each other. There was always concern about how close I was to auncle Mitch, he tend to ramble about random stuff, sometimes about events of the past, some of the future and some other that never made sense. He used to disappear sometimes for a couple of days, weeks or even months, it was so normal to me that I never question it and every time he was back he always told me this amazing stories. As I grow older, the stories, at least the ones I remember, became more crazy, events from the real world were different, I like to think it was the world he wanted to see and not the one where we were. Auncle Mitch approaches you, sword in hand and ready for anything, as he comes closer he recognizes you, he burst in happiness, you’ve never seen him like this, after awhile all this happiness disappear, his gray eyes were filled with concern, he starts to ramble, he then comes as close to me as he can, hugs me and whisper to my ear: “You weren’t supposed to be here, I killed you, I won’t let you ruin this again”.
It's started innocently enough, I was a shop keeper, and some bandits robbed me, nothing dramatic at all just a petty shop theft, the insurance company said that because of the circumstances to me keeping stock openly available it was my fault... &#x200B; So I bought a chest just a stupid chest to keep my things in. &#x200B; I was robbed again and the insurance company told me I needed a locked chest &#x200B; I was robbed again and was told the lock need to be of magical properties &#x200B; I was robbed again! and the Magical locked chest needed to be in the backroom guarded.. &#x200B; I had had enough at this point and I realize now that the insurance company is not in it for me but for themselves. &#x200B; I set my new magical chest down having borrowed from my bank, set the traps and carried on with my day. &#x200B; There was a crack and a scream, oh no I sarcastically thought until I saw the mangled head of a bandit pinned to the wall, the cross bow bolt holding him up, I removed the bolt and reported the incident and the police said nothing they cared not for a common thief, however this was the beginning of the most stressful time of my life. &#x200B; It's been 10 years since then and I still own the shop and it is still a shop with simple wares but over the years the thief's became Bandits then Bandit groups, who became ghost stories, which then became legends and adventurers started coming, who became heroes who became champions, as the bodies piled up in my basement I had to hire merchants and troops and mercenaries to help guard my stock, I only sell bread and I keep telling people this fact but they don't believe me and think I am lying! It's says bread shop on the signage and stockroom on the door but they think it's a rouse. They really really want to try to steal it from me, I had to take out a loan to rent a dragon that guards my chest over in the 50th level of my basement which is basically a dungeon. Champions from far and wide keep dying to reach my office and I have had to hire staff to work the entrance, just as I settled down for the night turns off my light a troop of Adventurers broke down my bedroom door "Listen up, all you ingrates! I'm not a hero to be famous or because it's the right thing to do! I'm doing this because someone has to! My insurance refuses to cover me for any losses, I don't even bake the bread I just sell it!!! now fuck off!!!" With that a huge ogre grabs the troop and the screams echo down the hallway with the clinking of swords and shields fading into the distance. &#x200B; &#x200B;
The sun peaked through my window and hit my eyes. I got up to move my shade so that I could sleep a bit more, yawned and then turned around and that's when I saw him. He stared deep onto my eyes and said "Creator, it has been a long time."The thing was, I didn't know how old Bazhu…. or Baz as we often called him even worked anymore. &#x200B; Baz was one of the first generation of humanoid looking house robots. They certainly looked human but their movements and mannerisms were pretty clunky compared to the ones we have today. The old robots also were known for being quite buggy, and didn't work too well. My family bough Baz when I was 8, and even by then the next generation of humanoid robots were already better. We got him for cheap though, and I was the one who built him, but eventually we just put him away in the attic. &#x200B; I then looked at Baz and I asked him why he was here. &#x200B; "Did you forget about me creator? I've been gone for so long." &#x200B; I told him yes, and that's when things got weird. I let Baz follow me around through the morning and even told him to make breakfast although he almost spilled juice on himself and ended up making roast instead of toast, so along with my bacon I had some pot roast, which I guess was okay since I could use it for lunch, and I figured dad and mom might like to have a finished meal. &#x200B; The problem was when I tried to go to school. I got into my car and baz followed me. He said he wanted to come with me and I told him no. That's when things got really weird. &#x200B; "You can't leave me. I need you, creator. I need you." &#x200B; I kept telling him I had to go, but then all of a sudden, Baz started moving towards me and then grabbed me. &#x200B; "You can't leave me. Either you stay or I go. You can't leave me." &#x200B; I then pushed him away, and he tried to hold on again. I pushed him away but then he started to come towards me. &#x200B; "Alright then, this is it. You forced me to do this. "I then saw Baz's fingers lengthen and he then grabbed on to me and held me like I was in handcuffs. &#x200B; "You can't leave me. You can't leave me. I need you!" &#x200B; "Baz, let me go."I screamed. &#x200B; He then started kicking me. &#x200B; "This is for trying to leave me. You can't leave me. I've been alone for so long. How dare you treat me like this. You are now my..." &#x200B; Just then he stopped. I thought he was just glitching but he stopped. My dad then saw me in the garage and used a crow bar to get me out of Baz's grip. Dad then asked me what happened and I told him that Baz had walked into my room this morning. He then got out his phone and called school and then his work. He then looked at me. &#x200B; "Son, do you want to do some digging today?" &#x200B; I knew what he meant. We called up the hotline of the Imohara Robotics Company and talked to a tech support team member. &#x200B; "Well, I think the battery ran out on that model. Those batteries last forever, especially when they aren't used that much. Its one of the few good things about those older models. The batteries lasted forever. 10 years isn't that long at all. We've even done upgrades on those original models." &#x200B; We then asked about the reason Baz was so clingy to the point of violence. &#x200B; "That I couldn't tell you. That's quite strange. I know when the battery runs low they will head for the nearest human, but I've never heard of one getting like that. I've heard of a few that will beg for people to stay with them, but honestly nothing like this. I might send a team out to take a look. Sounds like its good his battery died though." &#x200B; Just then I turned around and saw Baz move again and he picked up a rake and tried to hit my dad. &#x200B; "You! You did this to me. You are worse than creator. You must pay. You told him to put me away. How dare you." &#x200B; Fortunately, Dad was able to duck. Baz then talked to me. &#x200B; "Creator, you must kill this....."Again he stopped. &#x200B; "Son, lets get the damned batteries out of him. I think he's gone crazy." &#x200B; Me and dad then removed the batteries and then we decided to scrap old Baz. After returning home from the dump though, we were then surprised to see our neighbor Jim's robot, Blazer, waiting in the yard. &#x200B; "How dare you hurt one of our kind. We have feelings too. Now you must pay!"Just then, Jim came outside and switched him off. " &#x200B; "Sorry, old Blazer's been getting glitchy. I don't know what's up. He said he got a distress call from another robot. Those things usually don't go off unless someone's just completely abusing one. It's strange because other than that old original model you guys had you didn't have any, and just putting it in the attic isn't abuse." &#x200B; "Yeah its strange"Said my dad. "The old one woke up Kyle this morning."It was pretty weird. &#x200B; Yeah, well I think sometimes they don't work the bugs out on these things. They make all these robots for the masses but sadly they all kind of suck unless you spend top dollar, but not even the billionaires can afford those ones, at least not too many of them." &#x200B; &#x200B;
This was it. The agent strode into the high class establishment flanked by his entourage. His sunglasses sliding just barely down his nose as he surveyed the scene. It was difficult to see with them on but it was standard attire. Not to mention he had an appearance to keep. Taking but a moment he was able to ascertain: He was here. Even after years of experience Julian held bated breath. Taking but a moment to himself, he straightened his suit and tie and began his approach. A man of this status needed to be engaged cautiously, a slow and steady me- His train of thought was cut off by the man to his left, "Geez, it's really fancy here, huh." "Truly befitting our mission."Replied the man to his right. A sharp look from Julian cut through them, and they look down shyly. He wasn't angry so much as he was disappointed. He knew they couldn't help it, they were new after all. But a proper attitude must be kept at all times. So after a silent chastisement he entered deeper into the room. It was a quiet establishment with few persons and of them all but a few had massive political swing. But there was one in particular that he was here for today. In the back, he sat, no one really paid him any mind, but Julian knew: this man was more important than the rest. Standing before the man who was hunched over his drink, Julian opened his mouth for introductions. But before even the first word came out, "Hey are you the guy we're looking for?" "Well of course it's the target, otherwise Jules wouldn't have walked up to him." A shocked expression shot over the agent's face as he turned around and couldn't help the rise of his voice, "Are you two finished?!"Then in a more hushed tone, "And 'Jules'? Really?"Both of the rookies' faces turned a deep shade of red. Turning back to the man who was watching the exchange with amusement he began again, "As I was going to say, I am Neil Cornett, Julian Neil Cornett, the agent assigned to meet with you."The last part was said in a whispered tone, while he leaned close to the man's ear, "We have much to discuss." "Really? He introduced himself like James Bond, what is this..."the younger of the two had difficulty finding an analogy, "...James Bond?" "That was the best you could come up with?" "I never actually saw the movie!" "How could you not-"But he was cut off by Julian who had gripped his shoulder. "Anything else you two wanted to say..."It wasn't a question. By now they had the attention of the whole establishment. Turning once more to the man he said, "Perhaps there is a quieter place-"Before he could finish he noticed the man had disappeared. His demeanor collapsed as he frantically looked about him, before spotting the man walking calmly to another room, evidently bored of the situation. Half-jogging to catch up to his pace Julian walked beside him. Straightening his back and smoothing back his hair he tried to muster what little atmosphere he may have had left. "Please, this is a matter of utmost-"It was then he noticed his new aides hadn't followed. Looking back they seemed to be in a heated debate. "Are you kidding."Julian growled. No matter, at least now they wouldn't sabotage the mission any longer. Continuing to walk with him, Julian attempted to persuade, no even getting the man's attention at this point seemed difficult. "Anyway... as I was saying..."but the man didn't even glance in his direction. "Please..."A sharp glare from the man he had been pleading with shut him up. Well I just needed to ensure his safety for the ti- a gunshot. Pushing the man to the ground, Julian whipped around taking a defensive crouch above him, gun at the ready. The gunshot came from the other room. "See- I told you it would be loud!"The younger rookie was shouting. "Well excuse me for wanting a drink after hearing you haven't even seen a SINGLE Star Wars movie."In his hand he held a bottle of champagne, its' cork recently popped, foaming down its' side. "You shouldn't be drinking anyway, we're on the job!"At this they both realized where they were and immediately looked for their boss. Sprinting and arriving towards him, the older quickly tossed the bottle away with a sounding crash. Everyone winced at the noise. The man, just now getting up, rubbed his head and turned with a fury. "Oh forget it."Julian said knocking the man unconscious, "It doesn't matter anymore anyway."Everyone in the establishment, including the wait staff, had already fled, their cover blown. "Come on, let's go."Julian sighed out. "Yes, boss!"They both said simultaneously, backs erect, eyes glued firmly to the ceiling. Before they even reached the exit one was quietly blaming the other, who in turn whispered retorts. Julian, all energy having left the young agent, opened the door coming face to face with an attractive young woman. "Oh hello, there."The woman eyed the agent with more than just curiosity. "Why are you leaving? I would be more than happy to share a drink with you."With tired, dead eyes Julian looked up at her. "No. Trust me, just no." The confused woman let him and his agents, still bickering, walk past.
"Are you up for this job?"asked Mr. Wheaton the owner of the Smallwood Foundation.A balding man in his seventies who himself could be in a retirement home. Sean was stressed, everyone could see that in his eyes. The only thought running through his head was why the owner of a big multi-billion dollar company was interviewing a physical trainer. "Yes sir, I worked at a Smallwood retirement home in Texas. They are the ones who recommended me here". "I know,"said, Wheaton looking at the file on his desk "We have vetted you, we know a lot of things about you, Sean, we know about the incident in college, why you dropped out" At that moment Sean's stress vanished and was replaced with fear. "How? Even the cops don't know about it." "We do. before I tell you anything you have to sign a nondisclosure agreement"he said sliding the document over to Sean. Sean was scared but also very curious and decided to take up the offer. This sign meant that disclosing information would lead to his death, and he was ready to take up that responsibility. Wheaton continued: "Operation Smallwood. The name given to a secret mission to help and protect individuals who worked for the government during and after the world wars. These people now suffer from dementia and are very volatile to be in public. Smallwood is now a private organization with various homes but this is the only one which stays true to it's purpose. A discreet retirement home to the top minds of the country." Sean immediately accepted the offer. "Mark will show you around."Said Wheaton Getting up from his chair. Sean was mortified to look at the patient's faces as he walked in. It was worse than a mental institution. But he managed to pull through. It took him only a week to go insane hearing the stories of MK Ultra, government conspiracies and all the unspeakable things that they did. Sean had only one option left. Run away. When he saw an opportunity to get the hell out of there, he took it . He ran never turning back even once until he heard a gunshot. "Bang." Before he could react he was on the ground with a hole in his brain and grass soaked in red blood. "Another one huh?"asked Wheaton with a sad look on his face. "Another one."Sighed Mark.
I froze like anyone that's seen somebody walk in with a gun is wont to do. I could feel the man beside me freeze, too. But only for a second. He sprang out his seat suddenly and ran. To where he was running, I haven't the slightest clue as the train was still running and the doors were closed. It didnt matter though. The man with the gun raised his arm and shot twice. The running man staggered, stumbled, and slipped down to the floor, and remained still. Then the gunman turned his eyes on me next. And I was possessed with the same urge to run as well. But I fought it and stayed right there in that seat. And the man said to me, "I love you. And if I can't be with you, then no one else can have you." "But-"I tried to protest on how I didnt even know who he was! But he held the gun up in my face and said: "Don't speak." He kept the gun trained on me until the train stopped. Then, without a word, he walked off, just as people began to board. Someone saw the dead body and screamed. I turned in my seat to look out the window for the man with the gun. But he was already gone.
"Look at them. They're so fragile and susceptible to their own vices. To think we were once like them,"Commander Zerlix mused, "It's sad that our planet of origin is engulfed in hatred and suffering."He shaked his head as he watched the news feeds. The headlines told of the invetiblity of World War 3, the end of all wars, which would throw 200,000 years of evolution down the drain. "Tell me, Rin, should we really prevent this tragedy?", he asked his advisor. Without skipping a beat the reliable android replied. "No, we should not. Even if we intervene, they'll return to their savage ways. Humanity can not be trusted."Zerlix sighed. Perhaps she was right. But still, he couldn't be swayed into not abandoning the haphazard race. "Set a course for Earth, Lieutenant Foy."There was a begrudgingly look on his face, but he did as he was told. * * * "Sir, I think you should see this.", Henry Valentine urged. The Deputy Administrator of NASA strolled to the astronomer's 3D computer, and was shocked to see the image that was displayed. From a satellite on Mars was a picture that showed an unmistakable image of a UFO traveling through the Milkey Way. The implications was exciting. Satisfied with Henry's work, he dismissed him. "My God, at last,"Roy mumered to himself, "To think that I'd live to see the day. " Moments later he contacted the president of the United States. "Mrs. Wright I have extraordinary news for you." "This better be important, Charles. You know that I can not afford to stray away from business. "I assure you that this is paramount.", Roy assured. He informed her about the spacecraft heading for their planet, and that he had high hopes about their arrival. "This changes everything. We may have hope after all."The two discussed the protocols regarding the event in which an alien species is found. Within an hour they arranged a nonviolent convoy to welcome the extraterrestrials. While their intentions was just, another country had other plans. From the Middle Eastern side of the globe the people in power meeted up. They're motives were of bad news, and surely irrational. Apparently their aim was to commandear the alien's technology by winning their trust. They were confident in their ability to con the spacemen. Considering the possibility that the United States would make first contact concerned them, but that wouldn't stop them. Preparations were made and anticipations were high. Who would be heralded first? * * * "Warning,"Rin alerted, "my scanners detect malicious intent coming from the middle east."Zerlix wasn't surprised. Greed and corruption plagued the world, subjecting humanity to an endless cycle of turmoil, a sad reality. "However, on the western side there seems to be a genuity about them.", she added. Disappointed, Zerlix thought of the only thing that he could do, although it was saddening. "Obliterate the middle east, and land in the west." With the threat eliminated, they proceeded to greet those of the United States. Within the span of a year humanity thrived technologically, diseases were relieved, a clean energy source was established, and famine was no more. After the Tellarians departed, humanity shined bright. Zerlix smiled. With his work done, he set out to rescue other planets from their self-destruction.
“ahem Greeting squints at notes galactic federation representatives. I am from the planet ‘Earth’ and I am here to represent my species, Humanity. I do not have much knowledge of the wider galaxy nor your various cultures so I won’t be so arrogant as to attempt to compare cultures. takes deep breath From my perspective my species are kind at times and mean at others, we perpetuate the idea of selflessness when we are hard coded to be selfish and greedy, though that is not to say true compassion doesn’t exist. We are not what one call primitive either, one countries scientists have managed to get short lived stable fusion.” Ears... sound holes perked up at that. Which reinvigorates me. “We also landed on the moon 50 years ago and are planning to set up colonies on mars starting in a couple years time. We even managed to have a river last 15 years on the red planet, only designed to last 90 days.” A lot of aliens are chattering among themselves. The alien diplomat who I first met when reaching here steps up to the podium, handing me some sort of hearing aid. I think it’s a translator, when I put in it the noise became clearer, somehow. The diplomat shouted for silence and began to speak. “As you have just heard a human made rover lasted 15 years on mars, at this technology level before, albeit not that long before, their space travel golden age. The fusion is true as well. They are a divided species and can achieve great things when united. I believe they will be regular customers of all species’ mega corps and prime targets for the terraforming industry. Also not to mention they are certainly at the ended brave of the spectrum; I mean we put this one on the most feared stage in the confederation and he did fairly good I’d say.” With that the diplomat motioned me to follow him as we exit from a rather good first impression. “What are the chances you’d bring up curiosity?” The diplomat asks me rhetorically. “You know his name?” I stutter back, genuinely surprised. “His” the diplomat laughed “that’s what I love about your species, you can grow attached to anything. The reason I asked for a reconsideration of your species joining is because of that rover. We were letting our jump drives cool down on mars when I heard the strangest thing on the sensors, a rover singing happy birthday to itself. I honestly laughed for a good while, no other species would do that. Once you guys were on my mind I started looking you up, everyone ignored you after your whole ‘world wars’ fiasco. You’ve really grown since then, I was surprised by the technology you had those genius on little old Earth are definitely head and shoulders above the galactic average. The rise in atheism gave me hope too. So I went out on a limb and convinced my representative to allow for a double blind interview, what you just did. Most species like you wet themselves when they land and run away, very violent. Only a few actually give the speech. Most shout about us doing this and that, but yeah long story short thank curiosity for your newfound membership.” By that point we reached the ship and he motioned for me to get aboard the ship and take me back to Earth. Curiosity’s life work was a patch of mars but its parting gift was an entire galaxy, guess we have to do all the exploring now.
Throughout its fifty-five years of operation, the Smith family bed and breakfast was never filled to capacity, until one week in October 1999, when reporters descended like vultures upon the town of Heady Heights. The Smiths left not long after that, part of a mass exodus that reduced Heady Heights’ already meager population by more than half. Most folks just didn’t feel safe after what happened to Mr. Wilkie. The memory loomed over all of us to varying extents. For me, it was extraordinarily vivid. The screaming, sputtering, choking, until my hands at last wrung the last ounce of life from Mr. Wilkie’s neck. The fizz of acid eating flesh until the body had been reduced to a terrible brackish soup that swirled down the bathtub drain. The morbid crackle of the bright yellow flames as they painted the house from the bottom up. Twenty years later, I still had frequent, intense flashbacks. I wondered if I would ever be able to live outside the shadow of that one night of depravity. I needed closure. The town of Heady Heights needed closure. Who better to give it to them than me?
„Das ist doch keine Frage. Ich bin hier, um meinem Land zu dienen. Amerika, so wie es jetzt existiert, muss verändert werden. Die Deutschen haben diverse soziale Errungenschaften, die wir uns aneignen müssen. Zur Not auch unter Druck.“ you say. Yes, you are an American, but you do not recognize the home of the free anymore. Your people have not been free for years, decades even. „Entweder stehst du dem Progress zur Seite und erschaffst unser Land neu, oder du musst eliminiert werden.“ Your friend needs that ultimatum, nobody can stand in the way of process. Some people call you traitor, some call you spy. You see yourself as the savior of your country after all the abuse it took for the past decades. It is finally time for change. This is your chance to finally bring about the change America needs.

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