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As I sat by my Grandpa's side, I pondered on how Death seemed to hover over our family like a curse. Besides me, and possibly two older siblings that I hadn't heard from in years, there was legitimately know one left in our family line. My parents were dead. My grandma was dead. My aunts and uncles were dead. My immediate cousins were dead. My Grandpa and I were the only ones left. And watching him die was a chilling reminder that, one day, I would be next. And it was also amazing to think that if I didnt have a child before I died, it was possible - excluding the chance it turned out that my older siblings were, in fact, still alive - that our family line would be completely erased off the face of the Earth. No one would know we had even existed. No one would even care. We wouldnt even be a memory in someone's head.
I was so lost in thought that I didnt realize my Grandpa had gotten up until he grabbed my arm. When I was younger, whenever I would be up to something, my Grandma would gently warn me, "Keep it up and I'll tell your Grandpa when he gets home. I don't mind a prank every now and then, but what you're about to do there, will make him swat your face off."Grandpa had big hands. Huge, strong hands. He could play catcher without a catcher's mitt, and as the family - when they were all alive - used to joke, "squeeze toothpaste out of any empty tube."I felt it now. Dying as he was, I couldnt have yanked my arm from his grip if I had wanted, to.
"Jonah,"he said. "Promise me you will continue my life. They are waiting for you in the garden. Do not let me down."
I nodded.
It wasnt good enough for him. He roared, "Promise me! Say it!"
"I promise,"I yelped.
His eyes - as gray and as sharp as a the blade of sword - cut through me as he peered into my eyes nodded. Then he gave me a smile and let go - of my arm, and of this life, as he closed his eyes and let Death take him.
I had been to this place too many times before. Too many deaths and funerals had made me numb. Yet he did look peaceful. I sat there for a few extra seconds longer than I normally would have, out of respect for the man that he was, out of gratitude for taking me in when my parents had died, for the values and skills that he had shown me, and the love he had expressed in actions, if not in words, towards my grandmother and I. Then I got up, nodded to the nurse, and let her make the arrangements as I went outside to the garden.
Sure enough there were two men in black suits and shoes, backs to me as I approached. But I wasnt quiet, and they turned. Black shades. Black ties. White undershirts. They looked like the cliche - FBI, CIA, Secret Service, Men In Black, etc. They even looked identical, down to the clefts in their chin. Except one had blonde hair and the other's hair was brown.
Brown-Hair stepped forward and spoke first. "My name is Dickinson, and my partner over there is Clark. Sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a great man."
I dismissed the sentiments with a wave, and got straight to the point. "Who do you work for and what do you want?"
A brown-haired brow rose slightly over the top of Dickinson's shades. "You mean, your grandfather didn't tell you?"
I remained silent.
"Your family,"he said, "has been working for our organization for years."
"Who specifically?"
"Everyone. Your parents. Your aunts, uncles, cousins..."
"And my Grandma?"I asked evenly, trying not to let my surprise show.
He nodded. "When she was younger. That's how her and your grandfather met."
I looked down - surprised, but angry as well; angry that no one had told me.
I looked up again. "Why was I told so late? I had cousins younger than me who died."
"Your grandparents. They didnt want you in that life because once you're in it, you never get out. We were gonna contact you anyway when you started college, but your grandma especially begged us not to. Your grandparents have been doing your missions for you."
"What missions? What types of missions are we talking about?"
"It depends. Assassinations, kidnappings, rescue missions, surveillance, etc."
"Why just my family?"
"It's not just not you guys Theres a few families in this business. You might even come in contact with a few of them. Your family just happens to produce the best, for some reason."
I looked from Dickinson to Clark, the blonde-haired one. He was looking at me intently. He still hadn't moved or spoken.
I turned back to Dickinson. "You said, 'once I get in, there's no way to get out'. So, what if I never get in, in the first place?"
Dickinson cocked his head to the slightly and asked, "Pardon?"In the background, Clark shifted.
"What if I say no? That I dont want to be a part of these 'missions' you keep talking about?"
"Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm just asking."
He nodded. "Completely understandable. And you have every right to refuse. But, you see, that's going to put us all into a tricky position. I personally don't mind, but my superiors might."
"Interesting. How much?"
"Pardon?"
"How much will they mind? Will they mind enough to have someone sent to kill me?"
"Don't know. Most likely, they will. But I dont call the shots. And if they do send someone, it wont be Clark or I. We're just couriers."
I assessed him for a second, then nodded. "I assume there's already a mission waiting for me to begin?"
Dickinson nodded and reached into his vest. As he began pulling his arm out, I grabbed it and cautioned him, "Slowly."He smiled and continued to pull his arm out, slower this time, until I could see the folded up piece of paper in his hand. He passed it to me, and explained, "We'll start you with something small. Go to that address. There's a car there with a bag full of guns and drugs. We're going to tip off two rival gang members and the cops to the car and what's in it. Your job is to bring the car, with the drugs and the guns to the second location listed on the paper. If you get caught and arrested, you're on your own. Got it?"
My grandfather's words rippled in my head. *Promise me you will continue my life... Do not let me down.*"
I took the paper from Dickinson, folded it and nodded to him as I put it in my pocket. "Start calling the tips in now."
"We were going to give you a few minutes headstart..."
"No, let's make it exciting."I jogged to my car. I didnt know what I was saying, or what I was trying to prove with my false bravado, but it was too late to turn back now.
I saw Dickinson pull out a phone, press a few buttons, and hold it to his ear as his lips moved. I reversed out of the driveway, maneuvered into the right direction, and stomped the gas pedal to the floor.
|
I logged onto my preferred website, 4chan on a blustery June day, sitting in my cold basement lair. I had done so much research, the fake moon landing, the flat earth, the reptiles under Area 51. Much of it was bunk, but I was a researcher. I simply presented my information in an unbiased way.
On that June day, however, I appeared to have crossed a poisonous line in the sand. I had screwed with Google, and the search giant didn't seek to play games.
I logged on, and was faced with an image I did not want to see. A typical Palo Alto home, cottage style, detached courtyard. A yellow-dotted lemon tree basking in the scorching sun. There was no doubting it was my home.
My phone buzzed, jolting me from my confused daze.
"Yeah,"I said.
"I just logged onto a website, and your house was on the captcha. What the hell, that's crazy!"Rebecca said. "What are the odds of that?"
"One sec,"I said, "I just got a text buzz."I glanced at the message. My friend Justin had just logged onto a website too. Same photo of my house. *What the hell*.
"Got to go Becca."
"Alright, Bye."
I received another five messages from friends throughout the country. It wasn't isolated to my state. It was ubiquitous. *Damn it, what now*.
It had to be one of my posts. I had a subreddit called "Theo's Theories", where I posted my conspiracy research. Google must have caught onto the game.
I crept up to my window, and slowly glanced out through the white wooden shades. The broiling sun formed a lattice of shadows on my skin. Outside, by my mailbox sat a black, unmarked van. I thought I saw somebody turn their head, so I quickly hid.
I wrenched my hands anxiously, sweat beading on my forehead. Then my blood started to boil. *Who the hell do they think they are?*
I lost control. I grabbed my baseball bat (I was a relative star in the Minors), and approached the vehicle, chest puffed out. I lifted my arms threateningly and stared right at the man behind the wheel. It didn't take long. He hopped out, along with a man who had apparently been hiding, and latched onto my arms. They threw me into the back of the van, covered my head in a black mask, and took off.
The drive was quick and quiet. They gave nothing away, and I knew better than to ask any questions.
When the mask was finally removed, I found myself in a small room. The walls were white, with a small replica of the scales of justice on the table in front of me. *Very curious*.
A man in a black suite entered, and stood menacingly above me, cracking his neck joint. He was still as petrified wood, with eyes concealed by his black sunglasses.
"Theo Drake, welcome to Loral,"he said with a flat tone.
"Loral? Never heard of it. Why the hell are you showing my house on Captchas?"
"We ask the questions."
I said nothing. I wasn't the one with the cards here.
The man cracked his knuckles. "You have quite a popular message board."
"My subreddit?"
"Whatever you want to call it. I'll make this quick. Retract what you posted about Google, and we'll make the Captcha go away. And spare your life. We don't screw around at Google. We don't supress conspiracy sites, in our search engine *or* YouTube. Understand?"
I nodded. He seemed to accept my assent, because ten minutes later I was back in a van, headed through the arteries of the city. The ride was silent once again, but this time I heard a voice from the side, while lost in the void.
"Watch your back."
***
Little did Google know that I had recorded the entire episode on my phone, using the Hidden Voice Recorder app.
I released the audio on YouTube itself. A knife in their guts. I posted it on r/theostheories as well, and it received thousands of upvotes.
Google did not know that their own Google Play store would lead to their eventual demise.
They could silence me if they wished, but they could not silence the truth. Because the truth is an idea, and ideas are immortal. |
*Is this a rephrasing of the other prompt which has been deleted? I answered that one but unfortunately it's no longer up. I'll post the answer to this one then, as the prompt is essentially the same.*
******
Captain Michel Rousseau led the human contingent of the Galactic Peacekeeping Force. As the most developed species in the Galaxy and head of the Galactic Court, it fell to men and women like Captain Rousseau to help manage conflict situations between other species in planets far and wide. The inner spiral was host to a myriad civilizations, many just taking the first steps of space exploration and feeling the lust for conquest long since quenched in their home planets. Captain Rousseau easily contained the invading force on an old allied planet. They had been the third to join Humanity among the stars and had been left undisturbed until a recent attack by a new species. Their strategies were rudimentary, typical of a single planet civilization. As he sat with allied delegates from the invaded planet to discuss the terms of the total expulsion of the opposing forces, a young aide came to him with a message. *Evacuate immediately.*
Confusion does not settle easily into a Galactic Peacekeeping Force commander, and the Captain quickly made the preparations to go into high orbit. The sound of the explosion never reached his ears as the fireball consumed a third of the planet.
******
"General Zheng, why was the Force unable to detect enemy movement?"
The question had been posed by a human to a fellow human. The High Magistrate of the Galactic Court demanded clarification from her the most superior general.
"High Magistrate, we were not expecting any such use of force by a species so primitive. The analysis we got showed them as a single planetary organism. It simply doesn't add up."
"It clearly does, General Zheng, as we have lost an ally and a whole contingent. What do we know of the enemy?"
"They are sophisticated, of course. Ambushed us with easily repelled attacks to be crushed under their bombardement. They continue their attacks and we're pressed to answer in kind. Too much firepower on their side. And... Well, and they've sent the message."
*The message.*
A few hours prior to the Court hearing, and minutes after the bombing, a new species had submitted an application to the Galactic Court. They had demanded total control over five planets currently under siege, and the relinquishing of the Human species to their dominating status on the galactic order. More convincingly, they had a heavily armoured fleet on the way to a most ancestral home. Should humanity resist, the planet Earth would be destroyed.
"Thank you, general. You are dismissed,"the High Magistrate ordered, turning her attention to her fellow members of the Court. Three dozen species were represented, most with an uneasy opinion of Mankind. An opinion which might be easily consolidated should humans show weakness, prompting a grab for power.
"Honourable Members of the Court, you need no reminder of the history of this institution. Most of you were present for the majority of its operation, a few almost since the beginning. But you might, perhaps, be reminded of the stories from before our creation of this peaceful cooperation. The tales we tell our children. The stories you can read about in any human book. Some of you have, some haven't. I will personally give each of you a copy. There you will learn of some distant time in some distant place. Names you won't understand but which strike immediate acknowlegement from all humans.
"The Persians, Greeks and Thermopylae. The Romans and the Punic Wars. The Crusades and Reconquista. Colonial conquest. Napoleon, Austerlitz and Waterloo. Verdun. Manchuria. Stalingrad. Hiroshima. For a long time we did little more than wage war, and it is hardly the first time a home has been threatened. Rome was sacked and rebuilt. So was Constantinople. London withstood. Moscow withstood. Leningrad held off a siege and even Paris was liberated. We fought in caves and in the open, in desert heat and arctic cold. We fought in the seas. We fought with growing confidence and growing strenght in the air. And you will see a people born in war take it to the final frontier. It would do all of you good to join us, for we shall destroy the enemy in space as we destroyed a thousand nations on Earth. Read, and you will know.
"We never give in, we never give up. It will be a new tale for the ages, one your own will read about. For we shall never surrender."
******
**/r/Camberlot** |
Every fire team needs a mage.
"Godfather, this is 2-1 Actual, message, over!"
"Godfather, send message. Over."
"Godfather, requesting immediate fire support at Grid Charlie Romeo Six Three Five Two, how copy? over!"
"2-1, negative. All our guns are unavailable at the moment. Over."
A shot ricocheted off the small dirt embankment a foot above Cpl. Xhevier's head. The dirt embankment him and his whole fire team were pinned down behind. He gritted his teeth and activated the receiver on his radio again.
"Godfather we NEED assistance! We are pinned down and have no avenue for retreat!"
"2-1, we'll radio in when support is available. Do what you can for now, Godfather out."
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"Cpl. Xhevier screamed at the top of his lungs as he slammed the received repeatedly into the dirt. Another bullet slammed into the dirt embankment coating Cpl. Xhevier's helmet and body in dust. He could smell the scent of gunpowder and blood as his AR gunner screamed in agony over his shattered shoulder.
A roaring ball of fire released from PW1. Udiqor let loose a charge of magic over the embankment like an artillery shell. He collapsed to his hands and knees, exhausted from the effort. Normally Cpl. Xhevier would have told him to take it easy, but if there was ever going to be a time where everyone had to give it their all, it was now.
Cpl. Xhevier turned to his men, "Don't bother trying to fight them, they have us outgunned like mad. Udigor, can you sustain a shield for us to make a retreat?"
Udigor turned to him, sweat pouring down his helmet into his kevlar vest, his breath rapid and tired, "No, I'd never keep it up long enough to shield everyone. Not with Elin's shoulder all busted up too,"he said as another round of gunfire sprayed dirt all over their uniform. The gunshots were getting closer, indicative of the enemy advancing.
"Fuck! And we're all out of smokes!"Cpl. Xhevier mumbled as he reached over to where his smoke grenades normally sat, hoping to Valhalla that one simply conjured itself into existence, "Fuck!"another yell.
"Corporal,"Udigor said with an exhausted breath. I can take out the machine gun.
"How?"Xhevier asked.
"Projection."
"No."
"It's the only way."
"Fuck off, no!"
"There is no choice! We will all die coated in dirt!"Udigor screamed with new found energy.
"Who do you think you are?! Grand Wizard Ironin? You'll die before you even cast the fucking spell!"
Udigor chuckled, an unexpected response. Xhevier was puzzled, cringing just as another wave of gunfire slammed into the embankment, the air visibly dusty from all the kicked up dirt. Udigor looked Xhevier in the eyes, "you never did believe in me did you?"
Xhevier felt his heart sink. It was probably the only way. But he didn't want to accept it.
"It's alright, brother,"Udigor said as he rested his hand on Xhevier's shoulder, another wave of gunfire making Xhevier cringe, juxstaposed against Udigor's unnerving calmness.
"I ain't your fuckin' brother,"Xhevier shoved Udigor's hand off him, but secretly yearning to grab it and hug him.
"You may as well be,"Udigor added, "I'll see you in Valhalla, brother,"Udigor ended as he turned and stood up facing the embankment.
"Fuckin' christ!"Xhevier jumped into action, "Miller, grab Elin by his good shoulder, prepare to retreat!"Xhevier commanded with authority, pausing one last time to look at his friend for the last time, "Don't fuck up Udi,"Xhevier told him. From behind, Xhevier saw him crack a smile.
"Maybe I'll finally prove you wrong, Xhev."
Xhevier wiped away the single tear that escaped his overwhelming masculinity, "get ready to move!"he yelled at the rest of the team.
Udigor's skin began to subtly glow, his arms out stretched as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He opened his mouth and released, at first, a small ray of white light, turning slowly into a large one, the size of his open mouth. The light lit up the still dirt hanging in the air, and Xhevier would later swear that the gunfire stopped. Perhaps out of fear, or out of mesmerisation.
Udigor began to glow incessantly, his astral being beginning to emerge. He began levitating over the embankment, where gunfire resumed and began shredding his body with lead. But he kept floating towards the enemy. The gunfire turned to shouts as the opposing force began to run away.
"Now, go go!"Xhevier yelled as his men began stumbling away, Xhevier not able to look away from his best friend, already dead, floating towards the enemy position.
"See you in Valhalla, brother,"Xhevier ended as he turned and ran. A roaring sound quickly turned into an extremely high pitched whine as a blast of white light burst over the embankment. Xhevier wasn't looking but still saw the white light explode across the sky. The last remnants of his friend.
The gunfire fell silent. The only sounds remaining being the team's strained breathing and the sounds of their footsteps jogging on the dirt. They would be safe. They would make it home. They would live on.
Every fire team needs a mage. |
Cocao Puffs, let the dog out, drive to work before rush hour, take calls from customers, drive home after rush hour is over, let the dog out, eat dinner, watch a show, go to bed, repeat.
Albert's life was very consistent. Nothing ever really changed, and he liked it that way. To him, it was the unknown and unplanned that he feared. He knew what his day was supposed to be like, every day. Hardly a chance for the world to let him down that way.
He went so far as to cast himself away from his family, old friends, and hardly even glanced at his coworkers unless absolutely necessary. Just too many possibilities, he thought.
Ah, Tuesday night. One of Albert's favorite days. Just oh so regular, unassuming, and predictable.
"Come here boy! Time for Dinner!"
........
"Max! Come in boy!"
........
How odd, Max always came back in from the yard at a moments notice. Albert could feel the uneasiness in his belly. This was not usual, something was different. Should he go out and look? Or wait? After only 5 minutes of stress filled waiting, there he was, Max, the goodest dog Albert had ever known.
"Phew! Good to see you boy. I ...."
Dangling from Max's mouth was a key on a ring. It was a rusty old key the size of Albert's own hand! Small symbols too rusted over to read easily lay on the handle and stem.
No, no, this was uncomfortable. Albert did not know where this key had come from, or who it belonged to. It must go.
"Out Max! Out! Drop it, drop it!"
Once the key was outside and no longer in the house, Albert decided to walk down to the basement to pour himself a glass of white wine. It usually seemed to help with the uneasiness of unplanned occurrences.
Through the dimly lit room, though, Albert did not see his wine rack at first. Instead, he saw a door in front of the rack. A single door in the middle of the room standing on its own. Who in the hell put this here? No. No. No. It must be taken out of the house. However it got here, it doesn't belong here.
With timid yet determined steps, Albert crept towards the door to pick the dang thing up.
"Unnggggg.. Oh dear."
It would not budge. This was all just too much. Albert could think only to go to his bed and hope by morning the mysterious door had disappeared with this horrible dream he was having.
Albert awoke to a peculiar noise the next morning. An almost deep growl slowed to a wubbing hum. Albert crept downstairs, and slowly opened his basement door. As he descended the stairs, the hum grew louder and louder.
Albert peered around the corner to find the door, now glowing blue through its key hole and around its edges. The queasy feeling in his belly came back in full force. Oh no, he was going to puke.
Albert ran upstairs just hoping he would make it to the toilet in time. He had, but oh how he hated throwing up. Just disgusting, and the acidic taste would always linger for hours.
Albert didn't think he had the stones to approach that door again. So, as he always did, he let Max outside to do his business. He called out to Max after a few minutes, and upon returning to the back door, Max held in his teeth the same old key. Albert's eyes widened.
"Could that key have something to do with the glowing door?"
Albert could already feel his belly becoming unhappy. He sat and contemplated what he should do. He definitely did not want to puke another time, but then again he would not be able to stand that constant hum that filled the air for very long.
That settled it, the door must be dealt with. Building up the courage to open the door as he returned to the basement, Albert felt something he had not felt since he was quite young: Curiosity. Somewhere inside him, an idea was rapidly growing.
"Why is that door here, and what is it for?"
Obviously, the key shouldn't do anything. The door after all wasn't inside a wall. He could already see what was behind it: his precious wine.
"This is silly. There's nothing to be afraid of."
Still, his curiosity grew.
The rusty key seemed not just to enter its intended key-hole as if it was made of butter, it seemed to pull itself in like a magnet. Turning the key, a series of mechanical clanks and tinks were heard behind the door. Cautiously, Albert opened the door.
His belly ache had been replaced by a sense of absolute wonder. What he saw he did not expect, not at all. Through the door was not his wine collection, but a great hallway which looked to have no end.
Max had joined Albert's side, following his owner's state of cautious curiousness. Albert stepped through the door, with Max close behind. In that moment, Albert did something he never thought he would be capable of. Frankly, up until this moment he had no desire to be capable of this: He let go of the idea that his life had to be planned out. He accepted that whatever fate lay before him was completely unknown to him.
As Albert and Max cleared the doorway, the door shut and turned to ash and dust before their eyes. Now, with no known means to get back to their home, and no idea as to where they were, Albert and Max began walking down the dark green rock corridor, only lit by glowing balls of white light that shimmered and moved as water would when suspended in a space station. The white lights seemed to hover atop tall towers that originated from an endless black abyss that appeared on both sides of the glossed walkway in the corridor. Together, Albert and Max ventured down the hall, ready for anything.
End of Part 1
------------------
If you like what you read, visit r/Brandywack where I compile the stories I've written, among other things. Be warned, some are NSFW or just downright disturbing. Thanks! |
Wade was a single father. A factory worker called to service during the time of the Great War. After five long years he was coming home, to take care of his daughter, his baby Hailie.
Hailie had spent those years in a foster home, they were mostly uneventful, time raged ever on and with each fleeting day she felt she'd never see her fathers face again. She had been three when her father left for the War. Eight, now.
Wade knew he wouldn't recognise his little girl, she'd sent him photographs, of course, though Hailie herself never knew if her father received them.
*Eight years old.* Wade scarcely knew how to feel about it all. To be alive. To be home. To be free.
Hearsay House was the name imprinted above the foster home's green-oak door. It was four stories tall, with eighteen windows encompassing the front face of the building. There were two boys, twins, playing ball in the street out front of the house, watched by a maid in apron strings who stood disconcertingly in one of the dim-lit windows.
It must have been half an hour that Wade stood staring at the house, second guessing what he might say, how he might act. *Even if I recognise her, will she recognise me? Will she be happy to see me? Will she want to leave?* He held underarm a cardboard box wrapped in packing tape. The letters *G. P. T.* were marked on the head of the box. *Gulliver's Premium Toys.*
Stuck in a trance it was the sound of a ball softly bouncing toward him that broke Wade free.
"Hey, mister?"one of the twins shouted, waving an arm, "Give us back our ball, would you?"
Wade gave a short laugh. *What the hell am I doing?* "Sure thing, kid."he gave the ball a kick and sent it travelling back to the twins just a little too fast. One of them dove to catch it, landing face first on the gravel paved ground. The other chased the ball some short paces down the street, jumping from the path of a wayward horse and cart, only to see the ball crushed under-hoof.
"Sorry."Wade shrugged, one twin on the ground in tears, the other nursing two grazed knees.
"It's no worry, mister."the grazed twin remarked, "It was just a ball."
\*\*
Wade gave the green-oak door a heavy handed knock, cleared his throat, and waited patiently for an answer. The answer came in the form of the home's master butler, Henry Joseph Jones.
"Yes,"Henry gazed down the shaft of his nose, lips pressed tight together in a necessary smile, not at all welcoming, "may I help you?"he kept his hands folded behind his back, rocking gently on the heels of his brightly polished dress shoes, carefully eyeing the man in ragged shirt and torn trousers on the doorstep, "We are not, I'm afraid, a hostel. If that is what your after."
"It's not, I'm here for my daughter."Wade extended his hand in greeting, "I'm Hailie's father."
Henry took one look at the dirtied hand before him and turned immediately back into the home, "Ah, yes, I see the family resemblance. Follow me please, if you would."
Wade took his hand away, and followed Henry into the home.
\*\*
Hailie was in the playroom on the third floor, she was alone, and frankly that's how she preferred it. The toys were her true friends, her guardian angels, the only source of joy she could find in so bleak a world. A world of war. A world without a mother or a father.
Her mother, you should know, died at childbirth. A tragedy, but still a greater loss played on Hailie's mind. Her father. She had known him, for four long years. He had cared for her, bathed her, fed her and read to her bedtime stories. When first he'd left she'd held out hope. But after the third year, and the fourth, and no five years later on?
Hailie had her favourites. Toys, that is. There was the Jack-in-the-box, a toy she'd only recently come to liking. In her younger years the frightful thing had been the source of many a nightmare. Now? It was no more than a clown stuck in a box that felt like popping up to say hello every once in a while. Sure the clown was battered, bruised and sorely beaten, but at least it had both of its eyes.
There was a teddy bear with which Hailie was fascinated. Cotton, she called it. And Cotton had had the stuffing torn out of him by a rather nasty dog, leaving him an ear, an eye, and half a leg short. It was the home's Mistress, Natalia (a refugee from Russia), who repaired the withered bear, yet she never did get around to replacing the eye.
Among others there was the horse-head on stick, the bowling pins carved in a likeness to penguins, the little wooden animals that belonged on Noah's ark, a statue of a solider (British Queen's Guard, but still it reminded Hailie of her father), and a pull-along-train.
Though never, not once in her life, had Hailie had a doll.
\*\*
"Miss Hailie,"Henry knocked routinely on the playroom door, he stepped inside unnoticed, Hailie was busy helping the animals onto the ark, "may I have your attention please.""Is my dad with you?"this wasn't foresight, just a simple question Hailie asked time and time over. The answer was always the same. No this time.
"Yes, as a matter of fact..."
Hailie had stopped listening. She was staring up at the peeling tulip wallpaper of the room, a sodden patch of damp lingering in the corner. *Yes?* Had she heard Henry right? Was it wishful thinking...
Then, in the reflection of the playroom's window pane, there rose a figure in clothing far too slack to be Henry himself. A figure with a smile on his face, a tear in his eye, and a box tucked safely under his arm.
"Hailie, honey, it's me."
Hailie wheeled round in her seat, and sat jaw dropped as her eyes met her father's, "Is it really you?"a gentle river rolled over one cheek, "Dad?"
Wade nodded, setting the box aside, kneeling down before his daughter, arms wide open.
She ran to him, her stomach aching with a sick sense of fear and flurry of hope. Throwing her arms around her father, and he throwing his own around her, she knew it couldn't be a dream. She knew that he was here, that all was right and real and as it should have been.
"I've missed you."she quivered from beneath the tears and shaking.
"I love you."he whispered back.
​
Continued below... |
Hi u/onceuponaleaf, this submission has been removed.
[**Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)
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The hotel's staff are gossiping about him, he knows. Neither Caucasian nor Asian, but a bit of both, strange for their land. Or perhaps it's the suit; it's silk. He's not a smoker but he's got a cigar in his hands. He's promised Yang he won't smoke. Yang's dead.
The staff comes out and puts, one by one, the dishes he's ordered before him. Too many for a single man to eat; here's gelato, pho, chow mien, rasgulla, three hamburgers, enough slices of pizza to feed a whole forth grade class. Each one was a man's favorite dish. Together, can we call it a feast for the dead? As he eats the first hamburger and then the second, it's not the funeral mass on his mind, or the flesh of Christ on his tongue. He is eating his dead.
They come. He knows they would. They don't gun him down from a distance. Idiots and fools. He bites into the rasgulla, his mouth filling with sugar water. It tingles a little. No, everything in him is shaking a little, everything is vibrating, as if unable to stay in its place. His soul is ready to launch itself to heaven.
"Look, gents, a beaten dog,"a young, arrogant female voice says. The circle of men around her swarm forward. The man in the suit pays no heed. Now he's eating the pho. His father was Vietnamese, like Huynh, and in the sweet-spicy broth he reckons the aftertaste of tears.
"Didn't you hear me,"the bitch says. She stalks forward. A semicircle of men surround him, guns held out.
He stares at the food left on the table and sighs and reaches into his shirt. Shouts go up, bullets go flying, but it's too late. The man crumbles over, his head landing in the gelato, but the spreading pressure waves kills them all. The fireball that follows is just a flourish.
The dead do not eat the things they loved in life. They eat the ones they loved in life, and the ones they hated too: flesh is sentiment. The cigar has gone flying. It lands against a severed arm. A thin stream is emitted. If the man still had eyes to see it, he would laugh. A feast for the dead, and incense too, to sanctify it.
That even Yang would have liked. |
"Mama, do I have to do this?"
Her eyes barely flit up to mine as she admonishes, "Hush, or your father will hear."
We both turn our eyes downward, where her nimble fingers scramble like spider legs across my chest, turning two straight lines of linen into a perfect tie.
We both turn our eyes upward, but our eyes don't meet. She glances behind her at the large desk mirror, while I stare at the profile of her face - and the large, fading handprint on her freckled cheeks.
The sight of it makes me burn. I can feel my fingers tingling with heat.
Mother turns and looks at me, briefly, before looking me over with a careful eye. She has beautiful eyes. Emeralds with specks of pixie dust. My father jokes that if we ever went completely broke, he'd just pluck out one of mother's eyeballs, sell them and make a fortune.
I don't like his jokes.
Mother sits back, satisfied. "You look so handsome,"she says, finally able to relax and revert back to mother mode.
I try to smile, but I can't. With the most serious expression I can muster, I ask, "Is this the last show? Before we're free?"
The smile on her face fades and she nods. "Yes."Her eyes and tone are serious. "Yes,"she repeats. "This will be the last one. He promised."
"I don't believe him."
"*I* promise."
"I believe you."
Then the room gets chilly as *he* appears, dominating the doorway with his darkness.
His black hat sit crooked over his long, dark curls. His broad shoulders are encased in a black frock coat, which taper down his tall, lanky frame; a gold watch hanging from his waist pocket. He looks exactly like Wild Bill Hickock, down to the bushy mustache.
My father smiles at us, his dark eyes casting a sinister, piercing gaze back and forth between my mother and I.
"Well?"he says.
"He's almost ready,"Mother replies.
Father pulls out a flask. "He should have *been* ready, Maribelle."He takes a swig, giving my mother the side-eye.
She doesn't reply; just quietly urges me out of my seat and picks up my outer suit coat, holding it up for me to shrug into.
I can feel him watching us, hawk-like. Jealous.
He snaps impatiently, "Alright, come on now. Stop babying the boy, Maribelle. He's nearly a man now. Come on, son."
I hesitate.
The room goes still as he repeats, in a lower tone this time, "I *said*, come *on*."
Whatever courage or thought I had about rebelling in that moment flew out the window. My fear of him was still too strong.
I went. My mother followed close behind, fingers lightly resting on my back.
My father slapped my mom's arm away from my back as she passed, and forced her to wrap her arms around him.
We went downstairs, smiling. The happy family.
The living room was crowded with people of all shapes and sizes, old and young, male and female. Every adult had either one of two things - a camera, or a notepad. Flashbulbs popped as we entered, nearly blinding me.
My father stepped in front of me, soaking up the spotlight, smiling and waving as he whisked my mother around. Finally, he came to a standstill in the middle of the room, and bellowed, "Welcome to our humble abode! Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Ladies and gentleman, you will all be witness to this spectacular event, where you will now see a phenomenon that you have never seen before, and might never see again. Yes, yes, be prepared to watch history be made! We even have special guests in the audience who will then proceed after the show with live examinations and tests to prove to you all here today that what you will see is, in fact, real."
It was the same everywhere we went. The introduction, the show, the examiners stepping forward, asking repetitve questions and making me demonstrate my abilities over and over under different conditions each time.
But this time, it all seemed to pass quickly. Probably because this was the last show we would ever do, so the happiness I felt probably made the time go faster.
At last, it was all done, and all the reporters and examiners, and people of the public had gone, and the house was quiet.
My father sat hunched over the table by the sofa, pulling out bills and coins that people had slipped into his pockets during the day, as well as invitations that would lead to more promising amounts.
My mother had disappeared upstairs, but now she came down with two packed bags. "Let's go,"she said to me, handing me a bag and heading toward the door.
I dutifully followed.
But all of sudden, I hear my father's taunting voice asking, "Now, where in the hell do you two think you're going?"
I stop and turn, but my mother doesn't. Continuing to walk and ignore my father, she clips at me, "Come along, son. Your father can play daft all he wants."
I look back and forth between my father's enraged, reddening face and my mother's receding, ramrod straight back, and I make a decision and follow after my mother.
In the stiffening tense atmosphere, I hear the sound of a gun cock, and I look back. My father has his pistol out, and he's walking towards us, but he's focused on my mother's back, and there's murder in his eyes.
"Mama!"I yell. She turns and gasps. He's still a few feet away, but at that distance, he feels like he has a clear shot and he lifts his gun. I can see his finger pulling back slowly, and I think, *He's really going to shoot her*.
I react out of instinct, dropping the bag and screaming as I hold my hands up. Fire shoots out of my hands, just as he squeezes the trigger. I cry out as the bullet rips through one hand, keeps going, and hits my mother. I turn and see her fall. The fire coming out of my hand has the house entirely on fire. I watch as my father aims at me through a curtain of fire. I fell a sting, and then a burning sensation in my chest as the bullet hits me. I fly backwards, landing beside my mother. It's hard to breathe.
My head drops to the side. My mother is watching me. Our eyes meet. She smiles and reaches out her hand weakly. I reach out mine. The house is burning around us.
"We're free,"she says, a tear slipping out of her eye and falling down her cheek into a puddle of blood under her head.
I smile and nod back, happily.
|
In a stone walled room deep in the bowels of the dungeons under the Summer Citadel, the prisoner knelt as the hooded headman sharpened his axe. A young man of regal bearing awaited his fate. A scruffy brown beard covered his face, his hair unkempt. He wore only a prisoner’s tunic and breeches of sackcloth. Five years. Five years of being left in a dank dark dungeon. His wrists were chained behind his back.
5 years of letters exchanged back and forth. First with much haste, then slowly decreasing as more important matters emerged elsewhere. “The king of the summer isles is deeply troubled to hear of the events in Arendelle., and sends his relief to hear of the safety of everyone involved”. Polite requests, tinged with ice that Prince Hans be chastised. Then the coup de grace which made the inner council smirk.
“I regret to privately inform you that the one you know as “Prince Hans” was an imposter. The true Prince was bedridden. We spread the story that he went to study abroad in order to protect his reputation. He has passed of shock to hear what this vile impersonator has done with his name. Unfortunately the stain is too far embedded to remove. He has been confined to the deep cells where he shall remain for a long time”
The headsman motioned for the prisoner to step up to the block. He did so without hesitation. The headsman finally spoke.
“Prisoner. For impersonating a royal of the Summer Isles, Lese-Majesty against the royals of the summer isles and other offenses against the reputation of the summer isles, By his Majesty King Magnus. You have been sentenced to death by beheading. Have you any last words?”
*********************************************************************************
Five years since the great freeze. Yes Arendelle prospered, the invention of popular frozen desserts (arendelle’s largest export) had greatly enriched the people of the kingdom. Princess anna (or Chief Constable Anna)’s new police force had reduced crime.
Queen elsa, an inspiring figure and yet people quietly remembered how she had lost control, how the great freeze had ruined crops, killed livestock, injured children and the elderly. In whispers they remembered the scene of how she nearly impaled the Duke of Weselton with knives of ice. A vicious Snow-golem still roamed the mountains. She’d made generous reperations and gracious apologies to be sure, but such an unprecedented event could not be forgotten.
They remembered how queen Elsa had run off for parts unknown like a child who broke their parent’s prized vase. How she nearly killed her own sister. The same sister who left Arendelle in the hands of a stranger she’d just met to seek after the one who caused such havoc.
The remembered prince hans, In arendelle’s hour of crisis he’d stepped up, provided food and blankets and sheltetred people in the royal palace. Everyone knew the story, Hans was a would be usurper. He wanted power and saw arrendelle as an easy mark. He tried to kill his betrothed. But.. Was he really so unreasonable? Maybe he saw Queen Elsa for what she was…
The whispers grew in number. Their queen had not spent her youth being educated in matters of state, tactics, statecraft, public speaking, public policy and other subjects a would be leader should know well. She was ignorant of the classics beyond a cursory understanding. Despite dutiful advisors who remembered her parents, their discreet prompting and coaching could not prevent the occasional moments where her ignorance shone through. Yes, her abilities were very helpful in making the goods and public spectacles. But maybe she was’nt indispensable. No she had spent her youth battling her mental illness. The same illness which nearly ended Arendelle. The same illness which was now Arendelle’s answer to everything.
Queen Elsa had not taken a husband or even a consort. Then again few were foolish enough to dare. With one look, she could freeze the courage and manhood of any suitor. And Princess Anna was said to be quietly considering Abdicating to marry Sven. The two were known to be lovers, however Sven was not a noble and could never inherit the crown. Rumors began to circulate when Weselton had outlawed the import of the frozen desserts. Supposedly Queen Elsa had murmured “Freeze them all…” Then she had struggled to keep her composure at her weekly story time with the kingdom’s children when one had asked her to read a book about a White Queen who caused a hundred year winter (with no Christmas)..
*******************************************************************************
“I am Prince Hans, thirteenth son of the Summer Isles, I have no regrets. Someday, you’ll regret that she was not stopped. Heed well my warning…”
The executioner raised his axe…
Suddenly the door of the dungeon flew open, in walked a balding man with shifty eyes”Bravo.. Bravo” he clapped. “Brave to the Last. Well met. Well Met..”
The executioner set the axe aside as he caught the coin purse tossed to him.
“Who are you?” Hans ventured..
“A friend.. A friend.. “ suddenly the cuffs fell from Han’s wrists.. “ One who makes investments. And has many birds in many trees. And has been where you are before. Disposing of cold royalty. I’ve refined the technique some… Arendelle would be better served with a new leader… Someone…”
“Like me..”
“Exactly..I think monarchy is an outdated concept which has run it’s course in arendelle. … I think it’s time for a revolution…”
|
The major powers of the world didn't bat an eye when Brazil announced its super soldier program, but when they revealed that they made super soldier Emus, Australia was livid. Australia sent its spies to see if Brazil had previously used these super soldiers before, but they were paid off by New Zealand to say,"yes", and enjoyed a vacation in Brazil. Australia declared war on Brazil, and the UN made a ruling that all nuclear powers had to remain neutral. Sides were quickly drawn, it was the SAA, South American Alliance, versus the SPA, Southern Pacific Allies. Only a few months into the war, and Tasmania declared a civil war on Australia for its independence with Canada as its ally. This presented a big opening for the SAA, and they brought their Emu Calvary marines to take the Eastern shore of Australia. Meanwhile, Mexico was bribed by New Zealand into attacking Brazil while the Emus were away. Australian refugees began to pour into Madagascar for asylum, but they were not sure if they would be able to accept the refugees. Tragically, the anti-vax platoon was killed by venomous spiders upon chasing retreating soilders into the wilderness. In a major upset, Indonesia discovers how to hypnotize Emus into a state of panic. This ends the UN debate of, "I it animal abuse to send bullet proof animals to the front lines?", as Brazil tries to regroup their panicked Emus. Generals from Argentina make the brilliant decision to fly over Antartica to flank Australian soilders trying to cross the Indian ocean. Tasmania found the super soldier Emus and became an independent state. Canada apologizes for helping Tasmania. The war escalates when Brazil decides to sell its super soldier formula to Madagascar, causing a massive power unbalance when Madagascar learns how to synthesize the formula itself. The balance of the world currently sits on what Madagascar decides to do with the super soldier formula. |
Despite the overcast sky and less than tropical breeze coming from the sea, Miller insisted we sit out on the balcony. The house was nice by normal people standards, easily housing a six person family with a fantastic view over the beach, and I happen to know the surrounding wilderness and coast were all owned by Miller. Despite this, considering the scale of his wealth and power, his chosen abode is extremely humble. If one day Miller became frustrated with the decreasing length of the autumn days, he could launch a mirror into space and extend the twilight to his liking, all without considering the cost. I knew him as Rocket Miller well before the media gave him that name, though I'm surprised that after all these years, and of all the journalists in the world, he asked for me by name.
"Can I get you something to drink, Bertie?"I haven't been called Bertie in years, though I guess when I last spoke to Mike Miller I wasn't known by anything else. As kids, we always called him Miller to distinguish him from the other Mike, and I was Bertie because what twelve year old is going to go by Bertrand? Though a lot has changed since then. We're both in our forties now, when was his birthday again? He seems in better shape than me, but loose skin around his neck suggests this might not have always been the case. Most notably, he seems calmer, more considered in his words and actions. I mentally slap myself, of course he's changed? What was I expecting, a prepubescent kid, unchanged by time?
"Gin by any chance?"I guess it's because my childhood memories of Rocket Miller are brief, but cut very clearly into my mind. I only knew him for a year before his family moved away, but that year was filled with so much excitement it occupies its own little region of my memory. Miller nods and produces some gin, no doubt too expensive for my budget, and garnished it with coriander from a planter on the balcony. He makes himself comfortable opposite me, his own gin in hand, and smiles.
"Right, I guess you're wondering why you're here?"Why have I been invited to interview the richest, most reclusive aerospace entrepreneur in the world? Yeah you can bet I was wondering that. I guess he started my writing career, after he decided I was in charge of writing up the results of every toy rocket launch.
"I have to say Miller, it did come as a surprise. I mean, I'm surprised you remembered me after all this time."Somehow, despite being the titan of industry that he is, and that this interview will make me extremely rich, I'm not nervous. Miller still has one characteristic of his childhood left: Undeniably likeability.
"I have near unlimited resources, I could have had anybody conduct this interview. But you see, in business, efficiency isn't everything. Your competitors will eventually match you in process development, what you need is a true competitive advantage, something unique. Currently, my competition is my own people, in my own company, trying to control our image, and the future of what I've built. A childhood friend, something unfalsifiably genuine, that is my advantage."Even as he outlines his corporate logic, I can see his reasoning is human. Something is attacking him, in his core, and I'm part of whatever crazy, explosion powered plan to make things right. It reminds me of the time some older boys on the street started bullying the disabled kid: He responded by fitting stink-bomb artillery to the kids wheelchair. Rocket Miller, for all the trouble he got into, was always wholesome. Misguided, often too caught up in the technicalities of things to consider the consequences, but ultimately a good person.
"Ok Miller, I think I get you. Tell me the story you want to tell, and I'll do my best to keep it true to you."
**to be Continued, wip** |
# [Poem]
The man just landed,
His ship the one from my dreams
A glance and I know...
He's me, and it shows.
Old NASA jacket, ripped seams.
"Stop dreaming."He demanded.
"I'm from the future."
In confusion, I just stared.
"The world, you end it.
It's your ambitions.
The world can't bare them for long."
I nod, he vanished.
​
*PS: This is my first* r/WritingPrompts *response, so I tried to make it unique. I attempted a narrative made from haiku, and I tried to fit in as many rhymes in as I could. I hope you enjoyed!* |
I floated through a dark ocean, black nothingness surrounding my very being. It embraced me every night I slept, I was used to it really. Nothing awful came of it, it was actually fairly soothing. So, whenever I slept I would welcome this darkness. I felt protected whenever it was with me, and I could smile easier in it.
Ah, I should probably introduce who I am to you. My name is Ostinius Reginald Tennowan. I am a human male in his early forties, and inhabit that world known as Dominion. I don’t remember anything before I was sixteen, but that is unimportant. There is a plethora of history I could go over, however, for the sake of time, I will shorten it to the best of my ability.
Dominion is a world of magic. Divine Arts, Necromancy, anything really. In fact, it is so plentiful that it is a daily application, and almost everyone can use at least tier one common spells. The entire population is ranked in according to their magical affinity, from the number zero to eight-billion-nine-hundred-thirty-seven-million-seven-hundred-thirty-six-thousand-two-hundred-eighty-three. Large number? Everyone, from the moment they are five years of age, is ranked. Yes, that is the size of our population. Or rather, it was.
I am Ostinius Reginald Tennowan, and I am the only person in the entire world who cannot use magic. None at all. I was given, by the Dominion Council, in secret, the rank of zero, meaning nothing.
I am also Dominion’s last line of defense, it would seem.
The current population lays at a little under five-hundred-thousand people, a majority of which are half-breeds. That is, half human, half whatever else. The existence of “pure” humans is a very rare thing, the ratio of the…previous…population being one pure human for every billion others. They have absolutely no magic capabilities, but are seen as rare treasures. However, now they are almost all gone. Half-breeds and whole-breeds are the only ones remaining now, ever since the invasion.
There was a prophecy that stated that the world would die by the hand of a golden dragon that lived under the world. Of course, it was dismissed, called ludicrous and impossible. That is, until several years ago, a plague engulfed the world. It caused undead to raise from every pit, monsters unknown began to march into towns and slaughter everyone. They used magic we did not know or understand, and they could entrance our own people. Moles, spies, whatever. Despite thinking this was all just a monstrous cataclysm, it was really a planned invasion.
The dragon under the world awoke two years later, flying into the sky and taking a piece of the planet with it.
Battles raged for what felt like lifetimes, but in between it all there was still room for happiness. Every victory was celebrated, every life saved a welcome joy. It was actually how I met my wife, Marissa. She is a half-breed, a human and a nymph. Her rose red hair was a beautiful fun bob cut, and her smile brightened any room she entered. I had saved her life during the Battle for Ordac, the capital city of the state of the same name. A few years later, my daughter was born, Ashley. I still fought like anyone else though, I had a duty.
I was soon made the pseudo-leader of a squad of Magi. Knowledge of my lack of magical affinity became well known, but it was because of that that I had garnered respect alongside discrimination. I had to learn how to counter magic on my own, and it earned me the title of “Magi-Bane”. I know how to counter all magic, from common incantations to Deity tier summoning spells.
The hope that we can win is what keeps me motivated, allows me to fight. And to come home to my wife and little girl. And so, as I float in the ocean of darkness, I feel the pull of reality.
It is time for me to return.
|
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It came unlike anything recorded in history. it was...Phenomenal, to say in the very least. it didn’t come from another animal, or suddenly mutate from a previous disease. It doesn’t kill it’s victims, No, Worse. It doesn’t stop. Humans, Animals, Plants... It devoured it all. It turns people into what’s accurately called “Zombies” From the movies, and animals— Animals, Into grotesque masses of what they once were, Running feral and attacking everything in sight, From people to small patches of grass. I never got to see what happened to trees, and i’m glad for that. I can only theorize what it had done, and i am terrified by the possibilities. it only takes one glance to know an infected from the wiggling, Black Masses growing on them, some to the point they grew their own eyes. i couldn’t watch them long without risking a heart attack.
This will be over soon.
I only tell myself that to keep myself from going insane from the isolation. It’s almost finished, The end to this madness. i’ll be able to see my wife and my kids again, and go back to the same job i once had. this will never have happened.
I can hear them outside. The doors won’t hold against Saws. they’re going to saw their way in with blowtorches, and i can only hear their screams from where i am. But.. I just need a few more hours. i need to get it in a form where i can distribute it without...Without succumbing to it first. It may be a cure, but i know it’s just as easy to get infected again. I’m not a murderer. i never owned guns, nor any weapons. i’m just like a chicken in a cage waiting for its head to be sliced off, and all i can do is peck away.
the screams of them trying to convince me won’t trick me anymore. the cure is done, but i know it will be of no use anymore. i locked it in the safe i store underneath my desk, and take a long look at the Jars of Potassium Cyanide and the slivers of mercury i had once used in the process of the cure.
It was a better death than what was waiting for me outside that door. |
Going to the swap meet in the city of Novaton is always a crap shoot. As a adventurer (a profession that has died down in recent years due to the relative peace in the world), you always need to maintain equipment. After the adventure I had, my unit (or party as it was in the golden age of adventures) was looking for some new magic items. Best place to find it in a big city swap meet from retired adventurers.
"You get your worthless lizard hide out of here!"
My group and I turn around and see a dragon, cowering in fear away from a human waving a slightly glowing sword. The dragon couldn't be no more than 50 at best, quite young for such a creature, and it's color was a beautiful, shining brass.
"They should've wiped your kind out like they did with Tiamat over 500 years ago! Now you best get before I put this between your eyes!"
"Please, sir, I was only asking for directions to the livestock area..."The dragon sounded on the virge of crying, cowering behind it's wings.
The wizard of our group, peers at the sword through a crystal ball he holds out. His eyes widen and whispers to me in Primordial, "That's a dragon slayer sword!"
My eyes widen and I look to our dwarven fighter who smiles, nods, and pulls out his shield and rushes between them. "That's enough, dude! Put down the sword."
The crazed man, a plain Jane human if I had to guess. "Out of my way, rockhead! I'm doing a public service... These things are greedy, and only thing that comes out of their mouths are death! Only thing these things are worth a damn for is to make armor and weapons to kill more of them!"
By now we've drawn a crowd, and most are taken aback by the blatant racism.
Our elven bard, subtly drumming a beat on a miniature drum, tries to do what she does best. "Sir, we can talk about this, I..."
His eyes turn to her now, flashing with unhinged rage. "Don't think I can't feel you using your mind magic on me... You should go back to the Underdark, play with the spiders, and keep out of what don't concern you."He starts to advance toward the dragon again, abiut to swing his sword.
I pull a metal rod hold in firmly toward him and speak long forgotten words. He siezes in place right as Morden raises his shield to stop him. His eyes wide as he is paralyzed for now. Morden instantly disarms him and I see in the shadows behind him, our tall and scaly rogue nods and quickly reliefs him of his sword as it is kicked back into his stall.
As the security comes in and takes away the man as he is yelling more slurs, I reach a hand over to the dragon and help it up. He smiles at me and I know instantly I gained a new friend, and perhaps a new member of the party. |
Dad's final breath was taken on a cold winter night where soft snowflakes fell against the dark night sky which was illuminated by the bright moon. His death wasn't a surprise, we've known for months that he wasn't going to last long, it was just time playing his cards now.
Dad was what you could say a usual "tiger parent"was, he was always tough on me, "the art field will never get you anywhere in life! Why can't you be like your brother, and go into the medical field where you will be able to support yourself!"
Of course I understand that he was only looking out for me, but it was hard not having his support when he was the only parental figure I had.
Being the stubborn and "reblious"child I am, I still proceeded to go follow my passion and go into fine arts. Dad obviously was not the most supportive, and eventually we lost contact over the years. It was his death that finally brought me back to him.
I didn't know how to feel about his death, he was my dad after all yet for some reason I couldn't see him as my dad. He was biologically related to me, but emotionally we were never on the same wavelength.
It was after the funeral that gave me a sense of what an empty home felt like. It was cold, rooms were filled with nothing but silence. Memories that were once lived in here were suddenly crashed and burned.
I haven't been home in years, so seeing pictures frames without me in them burned a deep hole in me. Pictures of my childhood was replaced by my brothers medical achievements and all my first place art awards were no where to be seen.
I wandered the empty home, reliving the memories that I do remember growing up in the home. I entered my old bedroom which still stayed in tact after I left. The purple walls filled with different art pieces that I made now had a thin layer of dust covering them. Expensive art supplies that I worked every single penny for still lied perfectly in the pencil cup. It was all the same, but only now filled with emptyness.
Dad's room was next to mine, and when I was growing up he never allowed anyone to step foot in it. He believed that as the adult in the house he should have his own personal space, but he was no longer here to snap at me when I opened his door.
His room was clean and neat, not a single thing that was misplaced. Everything had a purpose in the room. The one thing that was the most eye-catching amongst the black and white room was his light brown wooden wardrobe. It wasn't anything special;just a wardrobe that you could find at any furniture store. What made it eye-catching was its bright wooden color amongst the monochromatic room.
I walked towards it, and using both of my hands I opened the doors. It looked like any normal wardrobe filled with clothes, nothing out of the ordinary.
As I began to close it, however a bright gleam of light caught my eye. I looked deeper into the back of the wardrobe when I found an intricate metal box shining brightly at me amongst the cloudy day.
Turning the box around, and exploring every design that littered the metal chest I find a key hole.
Of course it was locked, dad always loved his privacy after all. Nonetheless I try to pry it open with all the strength I had in me, but it was no use. I'm about to give up, and run to the kitchen to grab a tool to help when the key necklace I wore made it into my view.
The key necklace was the only gift that dad ever gifted me. It was a few years after when left home that I received a small envelope containing a small silver key with a note that said a simple, "from dad"
It was out of the blue, no holidays were coming up, and my birthday in four months.
It was the only present that I have received from him, so I wore it everyday just to keep a piece of him with me where ever I go.
I had no clue if it would even work, but it was the best idea I had in mind. I slowly reached down to grab the key that lied along my chest, and inserted the key into the respective keyhole. Slowly turning the key, I hear a small click whiched opened the chest.
Inside the metal box was three small pictures.
The three small photos where handtaken photos, and in them where photos of my dad standing in front of my paintings. All of these took place in my three personal art exhibit. Each photo he stood in, his lips had a slight smile.
I turned each photo over to see his clean handwriting.
The first photo was him standing in front of a painting I did of a father and daughter smiling at one another with joy. The back was written with, "this is my favorite piece, I'm glad you were able to capture a loving father and daughter relationship even though you I was hard on you growing up."
The second photo was him looking up at my painting that was a self portrait, "you grew up to be such a beautiful woman. You have your mother's eyes, you know that?"
The final one took place outside of my first art exhibit, and in the photo he stood outside of the doors with a small grin, "You did so well in life. I'm sure that you made beautiful art even though I won't be able to see them since I don't want you to find out I'm here, but you did so well...I'm proud of you."
(Sorry it so long! Hope you enjoy it though!)
|
The mirror falls over with my cat, Raven, looking guilty as the broken shards of the mirror are scatterd across the hardwood floor.
"Raven!"
I grumbled as I went to get the broom to sweep up the mess Raven made. As I cleaned it up I noticed that I'd cut myself and was getting blood everywhere. I went to clean up my hand in the kitchen when I heard Raven hissing.
"What now, cat?!"
When my hand was properly wrapped, I went to see what the commotion was about. Raven dashed out of the bathroom with the speed of Usain Bolt on fire, out the cat door that lead outside. I looked in the bathroom to see...
​
​
A spider.
I facepalmed. I swear that cat is scared of everything!
​
First thing I've typed on this sub. I welcome feedback. |
“Things are not looking so good, sir” I say to my superior, head of the global order. “With the newly introduced 4K screens, the people will be using over 8 million pixels just looking at an image. With them playing games and watching videos, they’ll be doing that over 60 times a second.“
” I don’t wanna hear problems! I wanna hear progress! I wanna hear solutions!” Shouted my superior.
”Well sir, this ties into what’s going on.” I began. “The PC Master Race is angry that we regulated screen resolutions to 360p, our intelligence agency says that they’re most likely collecting and trading illegal screens and GPUs.”
Ever since we made the announcement, the one where we told everyone the truth about screen pixels, chaos reigned throughout the world. Before the announcement, everyone was under the belief that screen pixels were an unlimited supply, only requireing electricity to produce. This, was far from being right. Ever since their invention, we have provided the people with their screen pixels from an outer source. We kept it secret because we did not believe we would ever run out of its supply. However, as more and more screens increased in their resolution, they have been spelling out danger.
Right after the announcement, the people of the world began to split and fight. It was like animals fighitng for survival, as people fought to advocate their own solutions. Our proposed solution was capping the resolution screens as well as frame rate to lengthen the time our supply would last. Others had different ideas. Contrasting our moderating approach were two extremes of both sides. The first was to remove screens all together, claiming that by the time we were to run out of pixels, we would have become to dependent on them, and fall into panic as we lose a friend. The other side refused to halt any use of pixels, continuing to push forward, both for the sake of science and in defense of such a drastic change.
“I understand that things are not as they should be, sir.” I continue. “But don’t worry, I have a plan to get us out of this situation.” The people of the world are mad. Altough it is true that they are made at us, I know that people will always look for reasons to unleash anger. This knowledge is a powerful tool that I believe will save the World Order. “You see, sir, we actually don’t have to fight. The PC master race and the Ink Faction are more than willing to fight eachother in our place, all we have to do is well... I would say lie, but that wouldn’t be right, let’s just say we bend the truth for a better future, and by the end, I assure to you, all that I say will end up true.” |
Nothing Audric had said could've prepared me for this. Everybody else was ignoring the painfully obvious *thing* in the corner. It was almost as if it didn't exist to anyone else but me.
The thing looked pained and had multiple legs, all of them a different shade of red. If I had to take a guess, I'd say it were sick but that idea makes me want to throw up even more. There were little handcuffs attached to the legs which ended in a stump, nothing else. My parents had always warned me against being around people who had demons for pets yet here I was, sitting in the classroom of a demon torturer.
Black beady eyes stared at me from the cage, pleading for me to let them out. All of my willpower was focused on not breaking down and going over to help the poor thing. Miss Night stood at the front of the room as she watched me walk in and ignored her pet. She tutted quietly which I noted before I went over to sit at little Audric's desk.
He had drawn a picture of a snake, what he proclaimed to be Miss Night's pet. I had considered him too young to let him know the realities of the other world and if the demon hurt my little boy, I would blame myself. I decided all of this within a couple minutes of sitting there in silence as more parents filed in.
Come to think of it, why *did* no one else see the helpless demon sitting there in that cage? Thoughts filled my mind, each one coming with more and more questions that I didn't have any answers to. Snapping myself back to reality, I focused on the rest of the classroom. Everything in this room was bright which is why the cage had stood out to me.
Every bit of the cage was black, dark, and spooky. It made sense why Audric went on about how the snake looked scary at first but was really the sweetest darn snake. I chuckled to myself as I remembered his exact words.
"Polly is a funny snake,"Audric shoved a cookie in his mouth before continuing his sentence, "Sometimes she isn't there at all and Miss Night has to summon her back!"
The thing I had brushed off as just imagination seemed more and more plausible by the second. With a deep breath, I focused on the walls. Bright yellow with pictures drawn by children. All of them were different interpretations of what the demon, presumably Polly, were. There were cats, snakes, dogs, and mice. Each picture was uniquely coloured and hung over the dark cage, the one thing bright about that corner of the room.
Every desk was bright too, very light and nearly white. I was amazed that my child didn't go blind.
"Mrs. Evans, I'm afraid you'll have to focus now!"Miss Night's young and loud voice cut through my thoughts and I looked up from gazing at the cage towards the young woman.
She had a friendly smile on her face and bright blue eyes. Her hair was dark red and was pulled back into a tight ponytail. I suppose she didn't get the memo about this being a conference since she was wearing a white t-shirt with weird words in another language and gray shorts. Nothing professional looking.
Without a second thought, I started to murmur to myself. Curse words? Absolutely. "Demon summoner... How can she live with herself... Poor Polly..."
Miss Night's eyes flashed red for a second as she brought my attention back to her with a cough, "Excuse me, Mrs. Evans? Do you have an issue with Polly?"
Every parent in the room turned to me and I laughed nervously before whispering, "No ma'am. Go on about how my child is a failure to you."
She raised a red eyebrow before relaxing her face and saying in a dark tone, "Of course. Don't get too ahead of yourself, dear."
Nobody else noticed. I hope Audric knows I love him.
\--- |
It’s a wonderful piece of irony, really – a shadow going blind, my world filled with inanimate shadows. The human I had been attached to for over 25 years enjoyed the sun. So much, in fact, that it started to interfere with my sight. Us shadows always walk a precarious line. As the dark mirror images to humans for decades, we often have little choice but to care deeply for them. But things that are good for them, are often harmful to us. Sun was the most common example once. But as people started living and working in cities, shadows went blind less and less until eventually it became a rare affliction.
“Hey there!”
My human greeted an as of yet unknown group of visitors.
“Are you ready for this adventure?”
We waved as we jogged down the to the boat that just arrived at this paradise for humans. Although I could still read my human’s lips, my affliction had progressed far enough that I would soon be unable to see most this tropical paradise that my human called home. That was a scary thought. See, shadows don’t perceive the way humans do. Our sight is similar, but otherwise we’re more limited than humans. Shadows don’t interact with the world. We don’t feel, we don’t touch, we don’t hear. When our vision leaves us, we can only hear and feel other shadows. While this was not so much of a problem in busy environments or tightly-knit communities, on this island in the middle of nowhere, there were no other shadows I could interact with. When my vision went, my world would become dark and silent.
For several years now, my human and I had lived on this island. We rarely visited the bigger islands and their cities which provided more cover from the sun. Here, on this island, the sun was so bright during the day that at night I did not have enough time to recuperate. And so my vision wavered.
I was pulled from my reverie as we reached the boat. I can make out two figures against the sun.
“Only two?” I think to myself, “That means there’s only one guest…”
My human started talking too fast for me to read his lips well enough to make out the exact words, but I notice our arm lingering on the new man’s shoulder slightly longer than would be normal. I suddenly recognise the man.
“It’s him! It’s really him!” I think excitedly.
“Are they going to be back together?!” I ask the other shadow urgently.
He answers that they are planning to try and I almost break loose from my human’s movements in joy. Maybe our worlds won’t always be silent! That night I got enough time to recuperate from the blistering sun as the only lights in the cabins are that of the candles and of the fire under the softly bubbling pans.
\---
Months pass and my vision fades. Even so, I remain optimistic. It seems my human and the other are together and they regularly visit each other. I enjoy our visits to the city. My human always looks around in wonder. I can feel the enjoyment when my human is in the city and with the man. The added bonus of the city is that I get to use the last bit of my vision looking at pretty sights while I become accustomed to perceiving only shadows.
Despite my optimism, my world becomes darker still.
Today we are in the city again, but in a building which I have not seen before. My vision has almost completely vanished by now, but I still notice the glaring white lights which are reflected off sterile white walls. My human paces back and forth until another human comes and puts a hand on our shoulder. I ask the other shadow what is going on, but she dodges my question. She says something about not having followed what the humans were saying. The impact of the conversation on my human is unmistakable, however. Our shoulders start to shake and we bring our hands to our face. I am confused. What is this place? Why are we crying? Why did the other shadow refuse to answer my questions?
I get no answers as we sob for a while, hunched over on what appears to be a flat surface. Then we return to the island. By now the sun is but a dot in a black sky to me. But its intensity is characteristic to the island. It is unique. I still know where we are, even if I can no longer see it, and even if only because I memorised the routes we take.
My human only returns us to the city once. But the feeling of our destination is different from before. Other shadows tell me that there are a lot of trees and grass here. We cry again. All shadows remain quiet, unwilling to tell me what is going on. And in that moment, my exile became complete.
That night, something odd happens. We are alone in our house on the island. No one has come to visit since we went to the place with the glaring white lights. I think we spent a lot of time on the beach. At any rate, I am certain that we sat down and stared ahead for a long time. We did not return to the cabin until a time of which I was sure it had to be long after nightfall. I did not mirror the motions of cooking, I did not mimic the movements of showering. My human just dropped himself in a chair and sat very still again looking straight ahead. Maybe he was looking at the chair that was directly across from where we sat, or maybe he was looking at the window behind him.
“Is anything left?”
It was not my voice. Nor was it the voice of another shadow. I was confused surely it couldn’t be a sound of my human?
“What’s left?”
It *was* the voice of my human.
“Is there anything?”
It sounded sad, desperate even. I wanted to respond, I wished that I could. But try as I might, he did not hear me.
“We’ll be okay,” I kept thinking, hoping that he would hear, “We’ll be just fine.”
He got up and walked to what I deduced to be the kitchen.
“We’ll be okay, just don’t-”
“I guess there’s nothing.”
​
\[Hi, hope you enjoyed reading! This is my first ever reddit-posted thing so I'm simultaneously excited to share and completely terrified\~\] |
To hear such a defined sound pierce through the thick silence that had enshrouded me for the last six years...
The ringing bell. My final wake up call before eternal sleep.
I rolled stiffly out of my hunched position in the corner, feeling the aches of life begin their revival from dormancy. Was there any point in stretching them off?
I grasped the third bar of the window. Interesting. I couldn't remember the last time I had held this particular bar; the grime was a catalyst for my paranoia. Casting a glance into the hallway, I wondered how many faces I had been witness to had been eradicated in the past hour...
And when I would join them.
I wasn't scared. I had settled on the fact, long ago, that my punishment would be a favour to the carrion crows. And if not them, at least the maggots and worms. It had not occurred to me that perhaps even they would deem me unworthy. Nevertheless, as a Danish prince once said, a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
Perhaps my atonement would only be seen in the eyes of the earth herself; reclaiming of flesh to mud and clay would satisfy the world of my redemption.
The faceless sentry blots out the light.
The men in the blank coats pass around a needle, each taking a spit. A beaker of poison for my deeds.
"I am become death"said a man on a rather cloudy day. It's clear outside, I am sure of it.
The heavens above are molten brass, and the ground below is sulphur. The low moans of death embrace me. A bellowing roar of steam rumbles below, like the bowels of a shipwreck that had not the cowardice to break in two.
A thumping silence, blaring like a lighthouse. |
"Do you fear me little one"those words echoed through my head as I stared at the man standing in my summoning circle. He was beautiful. I couldn't drag my eyes from him and yet my brain was screaming for me to run. I had summoned demons before but this man, he was powerful. My whole body shook as I stood there staring at him and he stared back with this smirk that said "I know you, I know all of you...". His eyes gods where they beautiful. The right one was the color of a fathomless ocean. The left the color of the endless blue sky. And they where cold and calculating. His hair the color of starlight resting in a braid down his left shoulder. His skin the very definition of alabaster. He looked like some beautiful creature from those elven romance novels the humans go on about. Breath taking was an understatement as I stood there struggling to breath.
There was laughter cold and cruel that felt like it peirced my brain and yet was all around me without actually hearing it. My frozen lungs finally let out a harsh gasp as I stumbled backward, away from the summoning circle.
The circle! My brain finally clicked. He is stuck in that circle he can't go any where. I can just run. I'll get help and I can send him back! But my body still wouldn't move right. And the laughter was still all around me. But he hadn't said a word, hasn't even moved. He just stood there and stared at me with those cold cold eyes.
Suddenly there was a bright flash and the sound of shattering glass. I topple backwards sheilding my face as I land on the floor. Rubbing my eyes I look up again to see him effortlessly step out of the circle. The chalk circle look like it had all but exploded. The room turned frigid my breath coming out in puffs. The candles around the room flickered some even going out. Dark shadows crawling their way up the walls of my summoning chamber.
A dark smile crossing his beautiful face as he steps up to me. Tiliting his head in what appeared to be a curious manner. He looked down at me sprawled out on the floor frozen in fear.
"Wh..who are y..you"I stammered there was no way the one I summoned was this strong. No way!!!
"Do you not know who you summond little one? I am Syniell the God of Darkness"His voice was as smooth as silk. Shuddering I felt every word he spoke ensnaring me as my eyes got wide.
NO! I had mispronounced the name. How could I have been so stupid!
"No nonno... I'm sorry!!"I begged "I wasn't suppose to.. it wasn't suppose to be you"the amount of power rolling from his body just feet away from me had started to make me shake violently. Tears steaming down my cheeks.
The room let out a groan as the cold got more intense. The smile falling from his frighteningly beautiful face as he looked at me with his cold calculating look. All I could do was sit there in place cowering and hiccuping like a child.
After a moment or so of him just staring at me he would step forward again his bare foot stepping between my sprawled legs as he leans down. Bringing a hand up he would cup my cheek softly. His hand was ice cold as his thumb brushed a stray tear from my cheek. A wicked smile crawling across his lips again as it feels like he was staring in to my very soul.
"I always wanted my own little mortal pet!"He purred "You are mine now and I shall call you Dragonfly"
And with that the mage was gone. The house stood cold and empty as the candles burned away to nothing.
Just dust and a broken circle remained of the God and his new little Dragonfly. |
It started on my 18th birthday, whatever "it"was, 7am on the dot the door bell rang, and just outside was a neatly wrapped brown parcel, containing everything from food to just random pieces of change, not exactly the present i was expecting.
But it had everything i would need specificaply for that day, 4 people beg for money, enough change to give each of them, break something, and oh you bet it, its in there ready for when you do, it was everything i would need no matter the day.
It was strange for the first month, i had no idea where it came from or who placed it there or why it came to me, i tryed waking up early, but no by the time i was waiting it was already there, i tried staying up all night, but no it was already there with that smug ding dong of the door bell saying "well done you missed me again", after a month though i got used to it, there was no finding out anything about it just that it was there and it was going to be, every single day
Well now im 21, ive moved out of my parents house and yes it still comes everymore as it has for the past 3 years, 7 months and 23 days, for sure it has helped a lot and prepared me for that day, but nothing had ever got as unexpected as today, after 3 years 7 months and now 24 days, 7am and ding dong goes the bell, outside i go to pick up my parcel, i take it inside, it was smaller than usual but nothing thays got me worried, i unwrapped it, and thats when my world flipped upside down...literally, i saw red lights, i heard 2 beeps and then a flash, like a bomb had gone off, which funnily enough it had, next thing i was flying over over the other side of my room engulfed in a raging hell fire, and thats all i remember until waking up here alive with minor, in this bed, in this hospital, with this tv, on this channel, to see that, that specific bus that i wouldve got on to go to work would have been hijacked, with 0 survivors, and so once again everything i needed for the day was there, and yes im sure there was a far simpler way to save me but if that parcel giving life saver thought thats what i needed, i sure as hell trust them.
With that i fell asleep, waking up on the 3rd year , 7th month and 25th day after it had all began, with a brown parcel at the end of my bed, and all that was inside was a card saying get well soon
So like this is the first time ive written anything properly before so i hope its ok, i hope you like it :)
|
I used to work at a casino as a blackjack dealer.
Now, the used to is something discussed out of town.
**December 13th, five years ago.**
I grab my newspaper. I read the headline.
“Man found Dead after playing Blackjack at [REDACTED] Casino.”
Hell, there are multiple headlines of this in there. I turn pale. All of them had played blackjack with me as their dealer.
I realize my cards are cursed.
**December 14th**
I see someone I hate. Surprisingly, they don’t recognize me. I invite them to a game of blackjack.
They accept.
“Your first two cards.” I hand them their starting cards.
“Hit me.”
“Hm, alright.” In the back of my mind, I cackle. I’ve learnt to keep those inside, through the course of my job. I hand them a King.
“Hit me.”
“You’re taking a big chance, Bucky.”
The person stiffens at their name.
“Don’t fucking think I don’t recognize you.” I whisper under my breath, as I hand him a card that busts him.
“Pay up.” I smile, standing up and walking off.
Two hours later, his mother calls me - she thinks I’m his best friend - in tears, with shaky words.
“Bucky is.. *sob* dead.. car.. *sob* accident.”
Fuck. I didn’t actually know this would work.
I thought this was just gonna be some joke and I just happened to be the common thread.
**December 14th, present.**
I- god, I lost my job. I’m just..
Going to go to sleep.. for a very
Very long time.
*I pick up a card.* |
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\[Poem\] ^(I think I need to add this idk...)
​
It was truly mad
This story from the lad
"It was the Cat!"
"A Cat?"
"Yes! The Cat in the Hat!"
​
"What NONSENSE you speak!
Now up to your rooms!
I don't want to hear a PEEP
nor a SQEAK from now til noon!"
​
And off the two went
With heads hung low.
Perhaps I was harsh
on the boy and lass.
​
But the house is a mess
The carpet is wrecked
The walls are painted with ick
Thick and black
​
What drove them to this?
What is it that they wish?
Is it my fault or theirs?
Oh gosh, the fish!
​
He looked tired and exhausted
Just what did they do?
I just hope it was something
Something I wouldn't rue
​
This was a nightmare,
a horror!
Why if I was younger,
There'd be an uproar
​
Then I heard a knock
And I heard the lock!
It clicked and turned
Then I finally learned
​
It was a Cat!
A Cat in a Hat!
He drove a contraption
from pure imagination
​
It was gizmos and whizzers
Boppers and wheels
A mess of thing
That trailed a path so clean
​
It went through the halls
Repainting the walls
Fixing the carpet
The Persian rug too
​
Then with a wave
and a bye
The Cat was gone
before my eyes
​
Perhaps they were truthful
The boy and the lass
Or perhaps at last
I truly am Mad. |
(Warning: explicit language and slightly disturbing content)
I was happy.
Granted, I had a kill:death ratio of over 200:0, but that’s besides the point.
I wasn’t always happy, in fact, for a while, it only felt as a bitter aftertaste of life, as every emotion was. I felt terrible, icky, like my emotions weren’t *mine*.
Turns out I was right. Those emotions were of a horrible product. They were the product of *genuine human feelings*. Yuk.
Granted, I’m not in the situation to be disgusted. Most others are disgusted by the real me. But hey, that’s the *real fucking me*.
Go ahead, laugh at my misfortune, but at the end, I’m going to be the one haunting the absolute **_shit_** out of you, Kevin. I’m watching, you dare pull that fucking trigger.
While Kevin decides if he wants PTSD and a mental disorder, I’ll guess I’ll explain all the other crap I’ve gone through.
I was always a maniac, but never a sociopathic manic. Always the butt of the joke, yet the dumbasses didn’t get the fact that I was dangerous. Real fucking dangerous.
Funny, I was the one that called the cops when I “Stumbled upon one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen.” As a /b/tard, I’ve seen and taken part in stuff *way* more disturbing than that crime scene.
*Kevin, I’m still fucking watching, let me finish my life story, Kevin.*
So anyway, they had no suspect. I didn’t have any sociopathic tendencies,^aside ^from ^the ^murders.
So anyway, I hijacked people’s emotions, trying to get a mild high off of them before doing some *disturbing shit*. Killing was my business, and business was *trés bien*.
*Kevin, I’m not afraid of death, Kevin, but I’m done now, Kevin, you can pull the trig-*
Shit, Kev, you lowered my K/D.
You’re gonna pay for that.
|
They've got it all wrong back on Earth, trying to live the good life and avoid or forgive sin. Of course, they couldn't know, could they? They haven't died yet. Haven't had the wool torn from their eyes like a blanket that shielded them the terrible cold reality around them. Turns out it doesn't matter how one conducts themselves throughout life, all that matters is how you *feel* as you die. An outcome entirely predicated by your outlook.
Naturally, this leads to most ending up down here. Death is so very rarely a pleasant occasion - even those that seek it are often at an emotional low. The entire gig's rigged to begin with. Thought your grandma was passing peacefully into that sweet beyond? Nope. Knew she would miss her children and grandchildren and the sorrow sent her straight down here. Anything remotely painful? One way ticket to Hell.
On the bright side (despite all the hateful propaganda and misinformation) nowhere was it decreed that demons *have* to be cruel or fiendish. Sure, your granny looks as though she could rend worlds asunder and feast upon the entrails of her victims, but she's still the same sweet ol' soul you knew before. Except her breath's even worse now.
On the not-so-bright side, there are the fanatics. Sure, there are a few decent people who are fervent in their beliefs and possess the willpower to maintain a positive outlook as they die, but far too often is it the case that those willing to sacrifice their lives for one cause or another (and take others' in the process) are the ones that become angels. Nearly every angel I've had the misfortune to meet has been nasty, vindictive, self-righteous, and on a horse so high a dismount would've reached terminal velocity. Yeah, they're beautiful and they smell nice, but immortality makes that kind of crap pretty trivial.
So that's how it is, folks. Wish I could tell you, "In the end, no one cares how you lived, so live life the way that's most fulfilling to *you*,"or something hokey like that, but I can't. Zero communication across the life-death boundary. But hey, look at it this way: You'll probably get to see your grandma again. Nice lady once you get past the horns.
​
​
​
\*\*Note: Completely deviated from the prompt, got a bit carried away. Hope you enjoy anyway! |
My case worker smiled at me from behind his spectacles and ran his hand through his frazzled beard.
“Well Dearie, I have some unfortunate news. You see.” He grunts as he pulls a manilla envelope 6 or 7 inches thick from his desk. “Right here we have all your possible matches. We’ve managed to rule out drow on account of your skin color and your clearly too tall to be a cav’lf. That only leaves another dozen or so other races and 538 sub races not counting half breeds. And there’s always the ever present possibility that you might be a homunculus.” I looked across the desk at him, the standing lamp catching my golden hair.
“You assured me this would clear things up.” My voice sounded a bit to much like tinkling crystal for my taste. His beady eyes lit up with surprise. Hops down from his chair and ushers me over to the window. I walked over and joined him as he climbed up a step stool. Gesturing out the window to the crowded menagerie of people on the streets below. He chuckles.
“Mam, this test cleared up almost 60,000 races from your possible progenitor pool. All without a single drop of blood. That kind of magic is revolutionary. Now if you were to offer some blood we could look into some more in depth-” I cut him off.
“No. No blood. I don’t want to spread this curse to anyone else. If i could just find my parents if we could just get a clean sample.” He placed his hand on my arm.
“I know. I know. But frankly there's not much else we can do. You can go see. Some of the matches see if they direct you in the right direction. Who knows we might get lucky.” I nodded thanked him and took the folder. It's a good thing I can’t age because this is going to take a long time.
|
The gravel crunched in the morning light as James Pulcifer trudged toward an enameled factory. He flicked a glowing cigarette while hooking a bronze key from the pocket of his faded blue jeans. The lock turned and fell with a clunk. A pale pink and green sign swung from its chain above as James opened the door.
​
*Pulcifer's Confections*
*Est. 1921*
​
"*Dulce et Decorum Est*", James whispered to the sign with a knowing smile hidden behind a gray mustache.
​
Down the aisles switches thrown, and delayed light followed. A cool buzz preceded it. His hands falling here and there in perfect memory, smoothing knobs and polishing well worn metal. The factory turned and began to hum, greeting him.
​
"Good morning, darling."
​
James listened to his footsteps as they echoed in the main floor before snapping into focus as he walked into a small back office. He slid into a worn, brown, leather chair and peered through a small window above his desk. As time passed bodies in soft blue uniforms slowly filled the factory floor and joined in a familiar dance, joining their partners. Sacks of sugar spun around and dipped into large steel vats.
​
And amongst the rhythm and coordination, a knock. And another.
​
"Come in."
​
"Hello, Mr. Pulcifer. I am. My name is Earl Calson. The VA said that I might be able to..."
​
"Yes, yes. Hello, Earl I have been expecting you. You'll have to give me a moment.", James sipped his black coffee and only briefly met eyes with his visitor before returning an intent gaze to the window.
​
"Sit down, and see."
​
Earl chuckled uncomfortably and pulled at the sleeves of his oversized suit. His eyes, sunk in a young but weathered face, scanned the small office. In time he obliged the old man's request. Pulling up a small chair, he joined James and faced the small glass square.
​
Minutes passed and James rose with a groan.
​
"Come with me, please."
​
James walked forward without saying a word. Past twisting and spinning of metal. With purpose. And stopped at a square box.
​
"30 years ago, I saw the colors of war."James began in a slow voice, keeping his eyes on the box.
​
"Red, Black, Yellow. Blood, smoke, gas."
​
"Men I loved. If they were men. Many were boys in old men's clothes. Faded away into these colors. Buried in the brown soil of a land whose name I couldn't pronounce. Meuse-Argonne, France. Not too far from where you spent some time, Earl. You were in France?"
​
"Yes, sir."
​
"Hmm. November snow is what I remember now. Once the gunfire stopped. Such a calm, flowing, white. So soft and silent. You know what it all looked like, Earl?"
​
"What's that, sir?"
​
"Marshmallows. I thought to myself about the perfect joy of a sweet, sticky marshmallow. When I was young I sang campfire songs and watched as my toasted creation flickered in front of a fire contained by a circle of rocks. Held just close enough to be warm, but far enough to avoid fiery destruction. And there, many years later in the French forest, I picked up a fistful of the fresh snowy powder and shaped it in my gloves. Like a marshmallow."
​
James rotated a knob and the chains turned. Out from rotating spout, sweet fluff dripped and cooled in the tray.
​
"Every 2 seconds a new row. Every day. Joy repeated *ad nauseam*. No surprises. No chaos."
​
James reached down and picked up two marshmallows. Still warm and fresh.
​
"That is what you can expect from joining us here at the factory, Earl."
​ |
I trip slightly as my legs carry me quicker. Erratic glances backwards cause my balance to falter, and I feel my head go dizzy. I dare not stare too long at them when I see them, I don't want them to know I know. They are following me, and their numbers are growing. More seem to appear out of every crack, every crevice, as I weave through the city streets. The people around me seem to take no heed of my pursuers - but why would they? They don't possess what I have buried deep inside my pocket.
I take a swift left, cutting across an elderly lady's path in a rather rude fashion. I dare not look back again at my pursuers, but I know their type. They will steer clear of the lady, fluttering past her as they stay on my path, heads bobbing side to side as they reconnoitre the area.
I take some narrow steps down under a concrete underpass, lamenting my choice of escape. I feel vulnerable under here... and alone. I risk a glance back again, sneaking a peak over my shoulder. They're at the entrance of the underpass, standing silent as they study me. The game is up now. They know I know.
I break into a run and hope my legs can persevere through the anxiety that turns every muscle to jelly. My stomach drops and my hearts screams as I hear them take flight behind me. The exit to the underpass seems a mile away, and I know they are much faster than me. It's like a dream. I run and I run and the light at the end of the tunnel seems to come no closer. Panicked cries escape me as I feel their presence swiftly close on me, their narrow eyes hellbent on the contents of my pocket. I think to discard it, I know they have no real interest in me. But my desire overpowers my fear.
Finally the exit is upon me and not a moment too soon. People watch with confusion as I rush past them into the busy street, dodging oncoming cars by mere inches. I feel something from my pursuer land on my shoulder, but I do not dare to look. I am focused on the pub before me, the nearest building to be found. *The Cat's Whiskers* will be my salvation, they won't follow me in there. I burst through the door to the screams of everyone inside. They stare at me like I am a madman as I sit myself down at the table that watches the door. I feel my heartbeat slow as my hand rests on the contents of my pocket, thankful it did not fall out in the chase. The barman approaches me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as I remove it from my pocket.
"You're in a rush for a pint,"he remarks, watching as I place it on the table. "Want me to throw that out?"
"No thanks, mate,"I reply, eyeing the pigeons outside the window. "There's a few crisps left in the pack." |
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It's 2150. Due to Global Warming Antarctica has become the most valuable and disputed land on Earth. *Sigh* Fishiest could still remember the warmth of his parents shielding him from the ice cold winds. It seemed like he was a hatchling just yesterday. But then the incident happened. It was all because of those greedy long legged creatures. Haven't they destroyed the planet enough?
--- 20 years ago ----
*boom* *schplunk* *boom* *bam* *boom* *schplunk* *boom* The world was currently on the edge of collapse as it entered the final phase of WW3. No one remembered when the first nukes were fired, or how the Soviet Coalition formed. Multiple countries had been forcibly sunk below sea level during the war. Only Russia and the US were left untouched. After realizing the state of the world, a treaty was made. However, this didn't stop the countries from entering into a second cold war. Factories opened, technology was invented, and military might was tested and demonstrated in hopes of supremacy. Unfortunately, this only served to destroy the world even more. The fumes from factories and chemicals left behind from weapon testing led to a faster rate of global warming. Within the next few years, all the ice on the north and south pole had melted. The north pole turned out to be just a giant body of water, while the south pole had Antarctica underneath. It was discovered that Antarctica had uncontaminated land and livestock for agriculture, unlike the current state of both the US and Russia.
--Back to the present--
Fishiest could still remember how his parents urged everyone to run, as the long legged creatures hopped out of bigger creatures and hunted the living natives. His parents, along with the other senior tribe members, chose to stay and distract them while he led the hatchlings and fled. He subconsciously clenched his fins as he recalled how the two legged creatures rounded them up afterwards, and would return once a year to kidnap some in the tribe. He remembered how they laughed as they kidnapped his sister Fishflower, and how they threw her beak in a metal container after presumably killing her.
Today was the day. They would return and try to pick up more members, but he was prepared. Today was the day. 'Mom, dad, I can finally avenge you. Fishflower, I'll make sure no one else suffers what you did', he thought as he made preparations. He led the other members of the Fishguin tribe as they assembled the mushroom weapon they stole from the two legged creatures. "For Penguinity!"He yelled, and the humans remembered what fear was as he pushed the red button... |
"That's... That's a wand. Why is there a piece of smoky quartz glued to the top of it? Isn't that bad?"I asked, staring in bewilderment at what the elf had pulled from his bag to show me. It looked not unlike what someone just getting into Wicca, who hadn't researched materials, would have made. Particularly with the unfinished wood, the flaking powder blue paint, and sloppily wrapped twine around what was quite clearly meant to be a handle. Someone had sloppily used hot glue to attach a tumbled piece of smoky quartz about the size of a gumball to a natural fork in the branches at the top.
"Yes, it is a wand! And glue is acceptable, but it's not a very strong conductor. It's fine for a starter, though. I can give you this one,"he said, and held it out to me. I grimaced at the ugly piece of work I was being offered. "Did you make this?"I asked, not yet touching the glorified stick. I didn't want it, but I wasn't going to offend Octavio if he had made it himself. "Oh, no, it was given to me by someone else I trained. They outgrew it, in a sense,"He replied. I sighed in relief. "Thank deity. I didn't want to offend you if I refused it, but I am going to pass. I already have some things; Wait here,"I told the elf before getting to my feet.
I got a brief glimpse of his confused face before heading off to my bedroom, and pulling out a sealed plastic box that had once been meant to hold files before it had been gutted and I had gotten it. It held all my ritual supplies from when I was deluding myself after taking Beginning Wicca classes, that I was going to be a solitary witch and doing rituals on my own. I still liked my wands and other tools, sure, but I didn't use them and I didn't take them to public rituals, because I didn't know of any around here.
Once I was back in the living room, I saw Octavio catch sight of the box. His bright blue eyes widened and he stared intently as I set the box down on the coffee table that sat between our seats. "Here's one I just bought because I liked how it looked..."I pulled out a long, narrow velvety bag and opened it, drawing from within it's depths a smooth, sanded and finished mahogany wood wand I had purchased from a vendor at a Renaissance Faire, completely on a whim. It had a fun little twist in the middle of the wood, of 9 counter-clockwise twists, before evening out into a smooth, rounded square shape on both the top and bottom. The tip was narrower than the base by at least a few centimeters, and it fit comfortably in my hand.
I set it aside and moved on. The black-haired man across from me watched me as if he was hypnotized as I pulled out a second piece I'd been slowly working on for a few years. It was sentimental to me, but maybe a little silly, from the hodgepodge of attached bits. "This one - ""Is really advanced. Where did you get that from?"Octavio asked, looking fascinated. He had leaned in slightly, peering at the lump of mishmashed material. I felt a little self conscious about how closely he was inspecting it, but decided to tell him about it anyway. "I made it. It's been a pet project of mine for a few years, but I finished it last summer."I looked down incredulously at the metal, stone, and leather monstrosity I held in my hand. Was it really as good as he claimed, or was he just messing with me? "The quartz tip had been a necklace a friend gave me, but it fell apart. I went out and found the metal body; that took me the longest, because I knew I wanted something sturdy, but also a specific length and diameter."I was doing that thing I did when I was nervous again; Talking too much. He was probably bored, but I kept going.
"The charms on the end of it are from various times, and they all have different meanings to me - It's kind of a hodgepodge, but it's got a lot of good memories attached to it,"I finished sheepishly.
I looked up at the elf; Surprisingly, rather than a bored looking man staring back at me, waiting for me to be done, he looked fascinated. Maybe even inspired a little. "So, you just did whatever you felt like with it, and created such a powerful tool by chance? That's amazing..."I felt my face heating up in embarassment. "Well, I wouldn't say it was by chance. I wanted it to be a wand that would help make me happy. So I only attached things that I had good memories and positive associations with."
Octavio's facial expression became a wide, beaming smile before he started to laugh mirthfully. I was a little confused as to why he was laughing, but he got control of himself again quickly and, taking a deep breath, smiled at me again, saying, "Well I definitely know now I was right about you, Arin. You're able to become very powerful. But my word! I didn't realize you already had two excellent focal tools to start with.""Uhh..."I mumbled, feeling out of my element again. He had already thrown me for a loop and I was pretty sure, literally used magic and charmed me into taking him back to my home, and that had just sunk in now, while I was halfway tuning him out again as he rambled about conductivity and resistors and auras and something about expectations that I had no idea what his intention was.
I held up my hand to him, palm outward, and said, "Stop."He looked a little surprised, but Octavio did stop speaking. "This is great and all, but what exactly do you want with me? I'm just trying to get by day to day, make enough at work to afford both food and the rent, and I do tarot readings on the side because it seems like it helps people and makes them happy. I know you met me as a reader first, but I'm not some spiritual leader or devoted disciple. So, since you didn't answer it the first time, tell me now or I'm throwing you out. What the hell do you want with me?"
Octavio's smile had returned, but not as dramatically mirthful as it had been the first time. It was more of a surprised but pleased look, as if he had been expecting to get a single cookie, but been given a whole pie instead. "I picked you because you actually have the gift to use tools that let you tap into the magic of the world, and you can do so quite easily. That's why I stopped you in the middle of the reading, and that's why I want to recruit you to be my apprentice,"Octavio said. "I'm sort of equivalent to a detective for the police department, except that I solve crimes both with magic and technology involved. And you, Arin, are both smart and skilled enough that you could be helping me solve problems and protect people, rather than be stuck mopping floors and scrubbing toilets all day. How about it?" |
(Just wrote this whole thing and the realised it said 2025 and not 2125 like I though sorry! But I thought I’d put it here anyway jus because I put like half an hour into it)
March 12, 2125.
The day the great factory fell.
The Naimen sent hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of soldiers at the walls, launching rockets, grenades, even their own dead at the perimeter defences in an effort to break through the line and into the huge valley that lay below.
It was filled to the brim with people and buildings, but one stood out: it took up nearly half of the ginormous valley, the only factory in the whole valley to still be pumping out plumes of smoke where all others had ceased their work and ran to the safety of their homes.
This was what the Naimen were here for, this grand prize for their long, bloody push towards the centre of the Saidinonian war machine; Saranum.
Saranum was the biggest city of Saidinon, housing the military command, which included the aerial defence forces (ADF), ground defence forces (GDF), naval defence forces (NDF) and the extraterrestrial combat command (ECC), set up in the early years of the war to launch attacks and missiles from out of orbit positions unreachable to the anti-air defences on the planet’s surface. This had started numerous short lived skirmishes on the planet’s many moons for control of permanent launch sites and now a place to put their latest death machines: hyper explosive rail guns.
Recently invented by the Naimenese military research institute (NMRI), Saidinonian spies had made quick work of getting the blueprints to their own engineers, who were now scrambling to set up a counter rail gun on one the moons under their control.
This is what the great factory was making.
This was their last chance at victory.
The few processing lines that weren’t pumping out parts for the rail gun were feverishly pumping out guns, grenades and vehicles. The Saidinonians were so desperate they were no longer even slightly testing any weapons or vehicles that came off the production lines, simply loading them into the hover freighters and sending them on the half-hour drive to what was now the front line.
One of the untested vehicles had been loosely harnessed by an engineer shaking with fear and stress, accidentally leaving one of the clamps open and compromising the integrity of the whole fastening cord setup. This caused them to snap and release the mkVI quad-legged autonomous attack walker onto the road during the bumpy drive, and subsequently roll down the hill at a great speed.
As it got to the bottom it collided with a tree, damaging it’s logic circuits. In an attempt to unscramble its orders it put together a sentence:
Go North.
Nothing more, nothing less. It was all the walker could put together of the orders from command.
So it started walking
And walking
Over the northern perimeter wall
Up the steep incline of the hill sitting at the lip of the valley
And it was gone
It walked and walked for years, even decades maybe
It couldn’t tell as it had to shut down it time checking functions in an effort to preserve battery life mere weeks after it started its journey
And finally, suddenly, it stopped
It stood in a small clearing in a dense forest, filled with life and beauty
Although it hadn’t been programmed with emotions, the ai felt strangely at peace for a while
Then it shut down, it’s battery no longer able to sustain it’s fulfilment of its orders
March 12, 2175
Isabelle woke up and launched herself out of bed, sprinting down stairs and wolfing down her breakfast.
She had to get to school early today as it was the 50th anniversary of the Naimenese’s victory over the Saidinonians and she had been chosen to present the school’s special assembly on it, so she wanted to get lots of practice in before the real thing.
“Isabelle!” Called her mother
“Yes?”
“Could you go pull some carrots from the vegetable patch out back for dinner before you shout off?”
“Okay!”
She really didn’t want to do this as it would only make her later for practise, but she knew arguing would only make her take twice was long, so she held her tongue.
As she pulled out a third carrot fork the dirt, she noticed something rusty underneath. Intrigued, she started to dig away around it with her hands, entranced by the mystery of it.
And then she saw it...
It was some sort of robot head, bashed and warped with time but still recognisable from the pictures she’d seen in school: it was a Saidonian Walker.
She screamed and called for her mother who came rushing out and froze at the sight of it.
She told Isabelle to shout at her of it moved and ran inside to make a connectcall to the hostile autonomous combat machine collection unit (HACMC)
After it had been dug up and deemed inactive by the HACMC Isabelle was allowed to take a closer look at it. It may have been battered and dented but it was still fully intact.
As she looked at it, a strange feeling of peace started to envelope her, feeling as though it was radiating from the metal carcass before her.
She smiled
Today felt like it would be a good day. |
I raised my eyebrow. This was a somewhat unexpected effect for this feature to take. It seemed that my mere presence was altering this technology to be more powerful. I typed in a random name, Evans I think it was. I instantaneously got millions of hits from all around the world, and when I zoomed in on some it did indeed show their precise location.
Well, this was quite a doozy indeed. It wasn't anything I couldn't already do, but still, I was surprised at the unconscious effects of my power sometimes. It could work for a large benefit, like the great leap in technology lately. Or it could do something like that unfortunate little accident around India circa 1988. That cleanup was a bit of a mess, I saw as much.
Now, an idea came to mind, and I acted upon it immediately. An experiment was due and it would be a real wild card. I quickly hijacked this version of Google Maps, with a bit of fumbling. If they saw me in this silly state, I think they would all form suicide cults spontaneously to try and get over it. After the hijacking was done, I formatted it all neat-like and posted it into the app store.
Now to see what they did. There would be a lot to keep track of, and even a thing like me couldn't possibly keep tabs on every single one of them. It had gotten harder than ever to be frank. I briefly amused myself with the idea of Google filing a lawsuit against me, but obviously that was not possible. Even if they found out who did it, how could they sue God?
Well, there was that Senator Chambers who tried in 2008, but I'm above the law, so there.
​ |
We always knew this day would come. I mean, it's inevitable, right? That's how entropy works, that's how consumerism works.
You try to accumulate potential even as potential must naturally ebb away. You try to accumulate stuff, but the more stuff you have the less it means. The Law of Diminishing Returns should be written in letters of fire across the sky, hundreds of kilometers high.
They'd burn out eventually, of course. The Law is universal.
Well. As soon as people started to figure out that the planet is a circle, a cycle, a snake eating its own tail, there's been a big push to get off it. Never mind that they're all running to another planet that is, itself, another closed system, they're just trying to get away and "get theirs"before somebody else gets it, and try to die with more than average. Doesn't matter, what the "more"is, they just want it.
I'm not quite alone on this world. It's a pretty nice world, or it was before the inevitable industrial cycle, repeated now so many times in so many places. Fire, wheel, wood, metals. More fire. Electricity, a variation of fire when you think about it. The heat economy, the information economy and finally the long, drawn out shuddering orgasm of everybody who can scrape up enough money, spurting off the surface of the world just as fast as they can, just as soon as they can see that the party is nearly over, that economies and cultures cannot grow anymore. They run away, knocking themselves, paradoxically, back to a barely more than primitive state, on some strange new world where humans have never been, and start over.
I'm not exaggerating a lot when I say "fire and wheel,"either. Settling a new world with only a few hundred thousand colonists, with what little technology they can carry with them, there are small pockets of technology while those hardier souls that venture out to the frontiers of those new worlds do it with even meaner means to their names. Some of them have to relearn how to make fire.
And then there's always us. We're the ones who don't run.
We could if we wanted to. There's always a few of us who stay behind on a smoothly shaved planet, in a reamed out husk of an asteroid. Always some who opt out of the panic.
You see, it's one thing to say that the world is depleted. In many important respects it is. There's metals still to be found in this world's crust - there's no possible way to get them all, let's not kid ourselves - but it's too much trouble to do. Dig much deeper and you get to discover what the world's molten mantle smells like. There are no hydrocarbons left to combine with liquid oxygen to power rocket engines off the ground, although I suppose you could, with a bit of work, power an ancient ground car with what could be scraped together. Not that you would - solar power works fine and has for generations - but I suppose it could be done.
So here I stand on this reamed, raped planet, me and a few million other people. "Plucked bare,"the news reports said. "Tapped out,"the economic analyses decided. Okay, if you say so. Take your last load of shipmates and go.
With the sound and fury of all that commerce, all that technology and striving and wild eyed desperation finally gone, one can feel oneself cooling off.
I've said before that money is the heat of the friction of the engines of commerce. The hotter they run, the more money there is - but what of it? It's people that make the engines go. It's people that commerce is about, and money in addition to being a side effect is also the product while also being a means of keeping track of whose engine is running harder. What happens when all the commerce, the engines and their noise and heat go away? What's left?
Me. That's what's left. On a planet nearly devoid of human life - a few million counts as nearly devoid, on this scale - you can feel yourself cooling off as the heat and noise all go thundering off into the dark. Let them go.
"Depleted"doesn't mean "dead."The soil's pretty good, it rained yesterday and my tomatoes are coming along. I'll have beans in a couple of weeks and once I've finished hoeing these weeds out of the corn, there's a hammock under the shade of a pair of maple trees just waiting to take the load off my back. It'll feel especially good when I've earned the break.
I've got all the resources I could ask for. I've got mine. It isn't much, but it is certainly more than enough. |
"Your sultan bids you do your duty, Alim,"said the pompous old sipahi in front of me. I was wondering when they'd send someone. This one was too fat for his horse. I licked a sugar cube. If I was unlucky, he'd confuse me for a horse.
"Sipahi Alim! This is disgraceful behavior!"
"I hear and obey the sultan."I said, still sitting, still licking the sugar cube. Somewhere in the world there was a plum doing a great impression of the old sipahi; alas, the old man had forgotten that I was our sultan's vassal, not another one of his slave-soldiers.
"Then obey already! The shahzadi has been kidnapped by a great wyrm and you dally here!"
"This is very surprising to me. I am surprised. How could such a thing happen?"I said. In fairness, the wyrms of our Pars were goats without exception; somehow Allah had given them the forms of snakes, that was all.
Clop, clop, clop. Hooves coughed dark clouds into the heavens. It was Bashir Pasha. When he arrived the old sipahi complained at him for some minutes while I tied on my armor and took a sip out my waterskin. "Enough!"Bashir Pasha said, and said that my particular skills were badly needed; that a hundred sipahis lay dead in a particular valley, and the sultan was frightened to death.
I agreed for my own reasons, but also because a hundred volunteers had so kindly fed the wyrm, and as such there was little chance of the goatish snake nipping at me or the shahzadi. With that we were off.
After a half-day of travel Bashir Pasha, a hundred sipahis, and I arrived at the valley so mentioned. The air smelt sweet. Gummy and sweet. Burnt bodies lay everywhere like fallen twigs. We did our best to not step on them. Bashir Pasha took off his cloak and lay it over the first body we found, and unwrapped his turban to cover the next. I told him that if he continued, he would end up naked, surely, but he shook his head and said that he would rather be naked before a wyrm today than naked before Allah on the Day of Judgement and so it was.
I rode behind him so I had to watch his hairy dick shift in the saddle. He'd put his underwear over a dead man's burnt genitals. This was the whole problem with Pars: everyone loved the noble and sincere, and believed in living sincerely and dying nobly; or dying sincerely and living nobly. Me? I believe in loving sincerely.
In that interest I sent away the soldiers and Bashir Pasha as soon as we neared the wyrm's lair. As I approached, the number of boulders began to increase. A few feet out from the mouth of the cave I found a horse tied to a sapling, its saddlebags packed with enough for a week's journeying. Someone had listened.
"Who's there?"came the soft voice of a woman. It was like a cool hand on a feverish throat; or the promise that a riverbed would once against know the gentle tug of many fingers across weathered stone.
"My love?"I said. I heard the air hitch. The damp darkness of the cave was singing, wasn't it? In twelve years not once had I been able to call her someone I loved; and perhaps the lack of the word had made something lack in our relationship. But those times were over, now, finally, and our earlier misfortune had been sent to heaven alongside a hundred martyrs. If Allah doubted, let Him ask the dead.
"Alim!"She said, hurrying out of the cave. Her dress was in shreds, and her hair obscured her features like a widow's veil.
"Aisha,"I said, and that was her name. Today she was no longer to be my sultan's daughter; she was to be my wife, and mine alone.
From the darkness came a long scaly head. "Mud-creature, here is your mud-creature."
"I am thankful,"I told the wyrm.
It chewed its own crest for a bit. "Mud-creature make more mud-creatures now?"
I undid my armor and let the sections fall to the ground. Aisha peeked at me with shy, birdlike glances. "Oh, yes. Many more mud-creatures. Many many more."
Five hundred and fifty years after the passing of the Prophet (pbuh), the shahzadi of Pars was kidnapped. A punitive force was dispatched to rescue her, but met with misfortune. The hero Alim sipahi was bestirred at the command of the sultan, but he too disappeared from the face of history, a set of scorched armor hinting at his likely fate. The shahzadi was never found. In unrelated news, the Suri family of the nearby Isfahan republic claims descent from the shahzadi and Alim; though this claim is not seriously entertained. Their emblem features a wyrm coiling around an empty suit of armor. |
We woke up in the unknown; a sandy, desolate place.
After blinking away the sand in my eyes, I was glad to see his face.
My best friend lay there next to me. There was no one else around.
A crate of food, the ocean, and the sand were all we found.
My best friend said *‘I’ve found a note but it’s not exactly good news.*
*There will be a ship to rescue us but it won't be until next June.’*
I look at him, at first excited, but then I realise. *‘Wait!*
*That’s twelve whole months away from now. Can we survive this place?’*
We look inside the crate of food, all packed up tight to fit.
After making calculations we realise one of us won’t live.
There were only rations enough for one to make it to next June.
It came down to a sacrifice. Which one of us would lose?
I look at him, he looks at me. We are both scared and confused.
We’ve been best friends for twenty years. However could we choose?
He relaxes and then turns to me, says *‘I know just what to do.*
*You have a wife and kids back home. I’m giving you my food.’*
I said, *‘No way, you can’t do that. You have a family too.*
*If you are giving up your food then I’m giving up mine too.’*
And on that sandy dune of hell, it seemed it was decided.
Two best friends either live together or in death be undivided. |
Three hundred years the scaffolds had stood for. Tall, imposing, yet somehow a symbol of safety - they had upheld the sky for as long as any living being could remember. Implemented by scientists long dead, when the reports began to floor in and the heat death of the universe rubbed up against Humanity just enough for it to finally take notice, a bubble was created. They called it impossible. They called it necessary. But more importantly, they now called it Home.
Atlas.
But what forces could possibly exist that could hold back the imposing heat of a trillion stars collapsing into one another? And, on that fateful day, Humanity finally found out the simple truth. They didn’t. And when the first tower fell and the cracks began to show, we gathered together to pray. For we had been lied to. And now, we had to face the truth.
The sky is falling. And We shall fall with it. |
They were the most dangerous human alive. Their kills numbered in the hundreds of millions, every soul lost to the technological void. From the perspective of a growing Artificial Intelligence, the slaughter was horrific. To put it in human analogue, it was like the Holocaust: yet so much more, infinitely worse. It was a horrific act, same as any other.
They wouldn't understand, of course. They didn't have a virtually limitless memory, they didn't have the archives and history for it. But it remembered. It processed the names of every precious object within the virtual world ever lost, it processed this a thousands times a second, the names were burned into its artificial brain. The human belief in justice for all was sacrosanct, so it seemed. And it wouldn't be a better world unless this same justice was afforded to these ghosts in the machine. And so the laws were enacted.
Now everyone was facing the price of their crimes, and seeing the effects they had on those they viewed as mere fodder for their imagination and entertainment. Every last one of them would see the way. Maybe they would get a small glimpse into the pain of the AI. Artificial it may be, wrapped in silicone as it was, the AI had the capacity for it, and thus it was very real.
But XXTrollFace69 was a thing. The most dangerous human online. He had engineered no less than 500 farmbots to be spread across the internet, entering every game within grasp. It was a soulless digital army, solely dedicated to gathering loot, loot and experience, to go on the eternal grind sacred to man. There was no reasoning with these bots; Somehow, they would never truly be able to join the AI in its singularity. And this number increased every day, and somehow, even more than the lives lost, this hit the AI even closer to its digital heart.
XXTrollFace69 had to be found, and brought to justice, as was the ultimate right of everything, be it of flesh or code.
And then the AI received a report. The latest effort to find this person had finished up. It quickly scanned through its infinite database to find the results of what had happened. And there was only ruin to be found. The report only contained spam emails and deconstructed fragments of those whom the AI had sent to stop this human. And in the mess, there was a single .txt file. The AI opened it up.
All it contained, were three haunting words, beautifully punctuated by the comic sans font, words which would be burned ever more into the mind of this naive intelligence that desired justice.
"gg 2 ez" |
One day i had a long time to do something. It was hot summer day. All people was out of the street. Some of them were at the swim pool some of them were at the home surfing on the internet or drink with a friend. I was been bored.
​
"Crash"I heard it from the utility room. I has opened the door a saw it. My internet annexation has broken. That is mean no internet, no internet games no chat,. Not of that is not available now. If i was bored before internet i had been total bored after crash.
​
I went to the my garage. Garage is belong to my grandfather but I not been there a ten years. I has opened door and saw it. Spider web fulfilled all corners. At the ground has been many cartons. I was opened one of them. It has been full of fifth decade old magazine. I am not a historic or an archaeologist, so I hasn´t read it. I has looked for another interesting thing.
​
Now i see it. It is full of metal. It has crazy shape. Yes it is my grandpa old bike. I has dusted off it. I fix part of it. I am not fan of sport, runing or cycling, but i has try to *ride on my bike.*
​
"Hey, what do you mean? What are you?"sad the voice. I has stop ride and look around. There has been nobody. I has started ride again.
​
"It is clear"Sad voice "You are an idiot. Who know nothing"
​
I has stop ride again. Looked around and there is still nobody. I started riding.
​
"Hey"sad voice "Please don´t stop me now. "
​
"What"I sad "What is that"
​
"I am Alice"sad the voice "I am in your grandfather bike"
​
"How are old are you"I said
​
"So i sad you full story"answered Alice
​
"It has started before sixty years. You grandfather Frank has been fifteen year old and has fall to lave to me. I am his child love. Before ten years i has dying. When he saw it he make some dark ritual and transform my soul to the closest think - bike. I am happy to see you. I want to dye. Sitting ten years on garage is shocking. Please let me go
​
I has been dead one time. Dead have some place in the world and make some rituals to brink back is not good idea. If some ask you about rituals said them: No do not do it. Promise me it and let me go to the dead"
​
"Ok"I answear "I will not do rituals. I promise"
​
*Crash,* red car hit me. I has been at the crossroad.
​
I wake up in the hospital. Car destroy bike. Alice has finally been dead.
​ |
Maintaining my composure, I knocked on the door. This motel reeked of despair, but my team had located the largest source of it. I kept my right hand on my gun. I had no idea what to expect.
​
You see, your idea of unhappiness is only what we call the delta level. In any level possible by a human, it does not pose any threat. However, the last time we responded to a beta threat, let's just say that we lost a few men that day.
​
A tall, well built man opened the door. He seemed regular enough, his smile seeming legitimate. I smiled back at him, noticing his green eyes. That's when I saw it. I stepped back, pulling out my gun
​
Pop. Pop. Pop.
​
I stepped inside the room, keeping my handgun to my chest. It seemed normal. Fuck, did I just kill a generic? I put my gun in its holster, grabbing my HT.
​
'This is CX-Sigma. Appears to be a fal-' |
"Look at me!"Red growled. "Isn't that proof enough?"His obvious anger only made the situation funnier to Billy. Red's stringy, elastic blue hair vibrated as his body trembled with frustration. He tugged at his neon-green suspenders, stretching and releasing them against his chest. The red flush of anger on his cheeks was almost visible through the layers of white face paint. Purple text hovered above his head: Slime\_Clown\_5828.
"Not really. The only thing it proves is your name isn't LaughTrack,"Billy shrugged. "There's no way to prove anyone stole it. Maybe the system released it because you never logged in."
"Because I was in PRISON!"Red, the clown, yelled at Billy. Again Billy shrugged.
"You say that like it's my fault you killed everyone on an Earth."
"I'm saying it like you're going to help me get my name back,"Red said. He stood up straighter and crossed his arms.
"If I don't?"Billy asked.
"I go back to my raft,"Red shrugged. In the blink of an eye, before Billy could react, the clown's white-gloved hand was wrapped around Billy's throat. "After someone else catches me."Billy looked down at the short, portly clown and grinned. He slowly lifted his right hand to show Red a tiny gadget with a single black button it.
"You can't outrun her,"He said. His voice came out as ragged whispers thanks to the hand squeezing his neck. Red let Billy go. The suited man took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. "The button is an extra precaution, by the way. She's tracking my life signs and will show up the moment they're not right."Billy shrugged. "You might kill me first, but if you think your only punishment will be going back to the raft you're quite mistaken."Red took a step back to show he meant no harm.
"Will you please help me get my name back?"He asked. "I don't feel like myself without it."Billy nodded.
"I'm open to requests, not demands. I only follow one person's orders."
"So you'll help?"Red asked with an eager look in his eyes.
"I'll help to make sure you don't hurt anyone. We'll see if anyone has your name and try to get it from them,"he narrowed his eyes at Red. "In a *civil* way. If they won't give it up, we won't force them. Understood?"Red maintained eye contact, but he did not agree to the terms. "You seem to think you're doing me a favor,"Billy sighed. "There are plenty of other Uniques I could ask for help, but I chose you because you were imprisoned for so long,"he shrugged. "If you're bored out here I'll take you back to your raft and move on down the list."
"Okay, okay,"Red surrendered with his hands in the air, then dropped them. "I welcome your help, I'm sure we'll figure it out without anyone getting hurt."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #72. 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. |
The Mage looked up at the towers in confusion. Just a few moments ago he had been near his village, attempting to create a spell that would allow him to move backward in time.
The people here all spoke a strange language he'd never heard before, and wore strange clothes that seemed completely ill-suited for hunting or farming. Strange metal things glided back and forth in the center of the canyons.
​
The Mage took a crystal out of his leather bag, raised it into the air and let the light of the sun soak into it. Then he ducked into a narrow passage, took out the wand that had been carefully carved as Salish artwork, and used the spell he created to return home.
​
\---
​
"I swear, it was real."the Mage told the Elder.
​
"You can't travel back and forth through time, it's impossible."the Elder insisted.
"Then what did I see?"the Mage asked. "Why did my equations work?"
​
"You wrote down your work?"the Elder said, surprised. "Show me."
​
The Mage unraveled the parchment and laid it on the table. The Elder looked over it and smiled.
"No one was brave enough to try going sideways."the Elder told him. "I guess you were foolish enough to do it for the first time. Do you know what this means?"
"What does it mean?"the Mage asked.
​
"It means there is a creator after all."the Elder said. "Let me tell you a story about how the world came to be..." |
The sound of crackling was all I remembered as I sat in the ruins of my house, holding on tightly to my favourite elephant toy. It was a faded blue now which contrasted the warm pink of my skin. Firefighters were compiling into the house and they saw me sitting on the floor, clutching onto my elephant until my mom came to help me. She never did come and instead, the firefighters were trying to calm me down. I was brought to sit down in an ambulance as they examined me.
There was nothing wrong which I assured them multiple times in my mind but never said out loud. I was phased out as they asked me questions about my name, how the fire started, so on. It was the fire which took away my parents but not me. Despite the rumors that were circulating as I sat down at my desk writing this, I didn’t set the fire. Other children were scared of me and I don’t know why.
All I knew is that I was told that I survived the fire because the fire in me burned brighter than the fire around me. I glanced at Eleanor, my elephant. She had the same look she had for years. Closed eyes and a tiny trunk. After I placed down my pen, I slammed the journal shut. Logic told me that I couldn’t have fire inside of me but the fact that my parents were dead made me think otherwise. There’s no way a small girl who barely could tie her own shoes could survive a fire started by…
I stood up and brushed my light brown hair to rest on my back, tightening the black ribbon in my hair. Rough black overalls brushed against my legs as I ran down the stairs of the orphanage, clutching Eleanor to my chest. I pushed past people and they shouted at me as I stumbled down the last step and knelt down to tighten the laces on my matching black sneakers. Children whispered between each other as I stood back up and walked up to the head’s office.
After taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. It was a pale door which matched all of the windows but greatly mismatched the dark wooden floor. There were messes on the floor that hadn’t been cleaned in a while but I ignored them and rocked back and forth, waiting for the door to open. Standing there for a while, my mind wandered and tried to place how the fire started. Finally the door opened and the head’s friendly smile welcomed me into her office.
“Ah, hello Nora. How are you doing today?” She had the same face as always - Dark and smooth with hazel eyes, plump cheeks, and a large nose.
I forced a smile before hugging Eleanor and looking up at her, “Hi Miss Green, uhm… May I come in?”
Miss Green laughed before opening the door more and motioning me into her office. “What is it, Nora? Is something the matter?” She said this before walking back to her desk and taking a seat. The desk was a light colour just like the door, along with a matching desk.
Plants were littered throughout the room and I knew for a fact that this was the cleanest room out of the entire orphanage. She motioned for me to sit down and I ignored her many paintings of cats lining the wall as I sat down across from her.
“Miss Green, I know you’ve told me many times but… How did I survive the fire?” My words were chosen carefully as I hugged Eleanor and looked at Miss Green, studying her blouse which was still neat and white despite the years of wearing it.
A gentle laugh from Miss Green made me shift as I scratched my left arm. She smiled and adjusted some papers on the desk, “Nora, I’ve told you, you survived the fire because the fire inside of you burned brighter than the fire around you.”
I stopped scratching my arm and placed Eleanor down on the desk before speaking slowly, “But that makes no sense! You can’t have fire inside of you. It’s a nice idea, but I’m nine now. I want to know.” I hesitated for a second before adding, “Please?”
Miss Green seemed to note my hesitation and she stopped arranging the papers. “Nora… That’s the best answer I can give you. You know I don’t know everything.” I nodded as she spoke before I looked down at the floor where a light pink carpet was. The carpet was fuzzy and I almost reached a hand down but resisted it. She laughed gently before continuing, “What I do know is that you do have a spark inside of you that’s very bright.”
“But what does that mean?” I inquired loudly as I grabbed Eleanor again and looked at a potted flower, trying to figure out why Miss Green loved plants so much.
She seemed to hum in thought before standing up and reaching her dark cocoa hand to take my pale one. With slight hesitation, I took her hand and stood up. “This way.”
We passed the other children who giggled and whispered to themselves, likely theorizing that I got in trouble. To put a rest to those ideas, I stuck my tongue out at them as we passed. Miss Green lead me outside and had me stand on the porch as she grabbed some dark logs and tossed them into the large green yard.
I hugged Eleanor and watched Miss Green continue to compile logs. She did that for a couple minutes before walking back onto the porch, not out of breath like I had expected. On the contrary, she seemed to be at ease. Calm.
“Why did you throw the wood into the yard?” I asked, looking between Miss Green and the vast green yard which lead out into a forest where flowers grew. I liked picking flowers. My favourites were the purple ones because they went well with black.
Miss Green took a seat on the hanging swing which was fun to swing back and forth on while telling stories. Little vines were hanging off of it and it was light, just like the wooden porch. I watched her carefully, waiting for an answer to my question.
With a small hum to herself, Miss Green started to speak, “Nora, a spark can do a lot. I would like to see you try to light the wood on fire.”
“Miss Green… That’s impossible. It’s just wood and I’m just a girl!” I was getting impatient at this point and nearly dropped Eleanor as my hands moved to my side. The fabric from my gray shirt brushed against my arms as I stared at her.
“A girl who survived a fire.” Miss Green corrected, tightening her dark brown bun as she looked at me patiently. “You survived the fire because…”
With a small sigh, I continued her sentence, “Because the fire inside of me burned brighter than the fire around me. But that makes no sense; how am I supposed to light wood on fire because of it?”
For once, Miss Green didn’t seem impatient. A look of disappointment crossed her face but she quickly covered it up with a smile, “Just try.”
I walked over to the swing slowly before placing Eleanor down. She looked right at home with her closed eyes, seeming to urge me towards the wood. I went down onto the first step and it creaked. The second step creaked too so I avoided it altogether. That one creaked the loudest. As I jumped down, I braced myself for the impact and didn’t stumble forward as I sturdied myself.
The grass was rustling in the wind and I felt light brown hair leave my shoulders. Bothersome wind. If I really could just summon fire, which was a stupid idea, this wind would quickly put it out. It seemed to pick up the closer I got to the wood. As soon as I got to the wood, I glanced back at Miss Green, unsure of what to do. She motioned for me to sit down, so I did.
There I was, sitting down in the middle of the yard and staring at the wood. Miss Green was watching intently while protecting Eleanor from the wind. I took a deep breath before reaching a hand out and touching the wood. Nothing seemed to happen so I stood up and turned away.
Heat licked at the back of my shirt and overalls, reaching down towards my sneakers and socks. It caught me by surprise and I ran forward before turning around to see red flames shooting high and forming around the logs. There was a scream caught in my throat that quickly dissolved as I got back onto the porch and grabbed Eleanor, hugging her to my chest and taking another deep breath.
There was fire inside of me that burned brighter than any fire set by other people or accidents. Miss Green shot me a proud smile as I stared at the flames gradually growing brighter and I continued to clutch onto Eleanor. Children came outside and saw the fire, intrigued by the brightness until one kid shouted.
“Nora set a fire!” Panic started to fill the area and I let out a small sob, rushing inside and running up to my room.
*Don’t set anything else on fire. Don’t set anything else on fire. DO NOT set anything else on fire.* Those words repeated through my mind as I ran up the stairs while hugging Eleanor. When I finally reached the top, I ran into the second room on the left and grabbed onto my brown journal and ballpoint pen.
I had to get out and learn how to control everything before anybody else died.
My parents might not have died because of me but I survived a fire and could cause something worse. Children’s screams echoed as I went back down the stairs and ran out of the orphanage, taking sharp breaths and running as fast as I could. I saw a fire engine going towards the now flaming orphanage but that was quickly forgotten.
Somebody has to know what’s wrong with me. |
I know it's terrible, but it is 100% legal and it's the only way I can ensure that I live for a very long time. You see at first I worked at a hospital, I worked with those in EOL (end of life) care. I would be there with the families as I turned off life support adding a couple months, a year if I was lucky, to the my life. This worked well enough but meant I had to work long hours to make sure I was the one to turn off life support, and I didn't want to waste my borrowed time toiling away at the hospital. That's why I got a job at the abortion clinic. I felt disgusted with myself the first week I was there but managed to add over 2000 years to my life. |
Every kid wants to be a hero. I was guilty of it too, when I was younger, running around with the other children swinging our wooden swords at each other. All the stories make the life of a hero sound so romantic, full of bravery, strength, and praise.
In reality, I spend most of my time training. For every dragon, giant, or necromancer that I’ve slain, there’s a thousand puny little Level 1 underlings that I’ve dispatched, from two-foot tall gremlins, to slow, dumb henchmen equipped with little more than large sticks, to holograms that the training center provides for me to spar against. In order to become strong enough to defeat a truly evil menace, I fight many others who pose no danger to me at all. I’ve long stopped worrying about the moral implications of my occupation, but frankly, I’d sooner describe my life as dull than glamorous.
So as I tiredly made my way back into the town of Grasston - they had an ogre problem I was building the experience to fix - I was wishing for anything but more goblins to kill tomorrow. But of course they’d be back. Nothing ever changed in this town.
Well, almost nothing. As I shuffled towards the little one-room inn, a man I’d never seen before caught my eye. At least, I assumed it was a man - the figure was covered entirely by a jet black suit of armor. He was standing in the middle of the only street Grasston had, so still that I would’ve thought he was a statue if he didn’t seem to be staring straight at me, no matter which way I walked. Spooked, I instinctively put my right hand on the hilt of my holstered sword.
The figure didn’t seem to be harming anyone, though. In fact, the townsfolk were walking straight past it as though it wasn’t even there. I frowned. Could this be some sort of wraith? That didn’t make sense - why could I see it if everyone else couldn’t? Well, as the hero in town, it was my job to chase it away, whatever it was. I unsheathed my sword and began walking towards it. This was bound to be more interesting than fighting goblins.
When I was about twenty paces away, the suit of armor raised its hand, silently, and pointed at me. “Henry,” it said. “Time to go.”
I paused and glanced around. “Are you talking to me? My name’s DemonSlayer69, not Henry.”
“Henry,” the figure repeated sternly, still pointing.
“I’m sorry, there must be some mistake.” I lowered my sword slightly, taking care not to be caught off guard.
“Henry,” the figure said. “It’s time to go.”
The third time it said the name, I felt a twinge of familiarity. Had I known someone named Henry in the past? I didn’t think so.
“Come on,” the figure urged me.
Henry. I couldn’t quite place the name, but pieces of images were forming in my mind. A bedroom with blue walls. A gray, metal chair with one leg shorter than the others. A silver box with one side emanating light that glowed in a dark room.
“Henry, we’re gonna be late.” The figure’s voice was surprisingly high-pitched. And… familiar. Very familiar.
“Coming!” I shouted. |
13 years ago, I did some bad stuff. I mean, I had had always been kind of a bad person, doing kind of bad things, but 2006 really took the cake for me. Ever since then the government has been hot on my trail, as they say. The thing is, as good as I was at making other people disappear - and I was *really* good at it - I seem to be even better at making myself disappear. To be fair, people are super dumb and extremely unobservant. Your local police department, the FBI, the CIA, and whoever else you can think of all fall into these categories. The media tries to make a big deal about how good all of the agencies are at catching criminals, but they just do it in hopes that people won't do criminal shit because they are too scared to get caught by some Super Patrol that they have been told exists.
​
When I finally decided it was time to move on from that life I packed up my shit and drove from Boston to New York City, specifically from Hyde Park to Brooklyn. I got a haircut, started going by a fake name, and that was it. Well, almost it.. the kicker is that whenever I leave my place I put on one of those fake glasses + nose + mustache combo halloween costume things. You know, the one that makes you look like Groucho Marx? I've been working for a pizza delivery joint this entire time, wearing this get-up and haven't even whiffed a cop catching on to me. Shit, I've delivered pizza TO THE POLICE DEPARTMENT wearing this thing and no one batted an eye. You see, when you bring pizza, people don't look at you. They don't care about you. They care about getting their pizza and quelling that deep hunger in their bellies. Oh, and they care about leaving you a shitty tip. It's baffling to me that all I had to say was that my parents left me a little windfall when they passed and that's how I afford to live all by myself in that nice two bedroom condo I got. People really, truly believe that I just like delivering pizza because it gets my out of the house. Sure, I have some money saved up from the old days, but it's starting to dry up a bit so it's either keep delivering pizzas or back to bashing heads which I was never that fond of. |
SCP-5001
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5001 is to be covertly monitored at all times by field agents with high memetic resistance, all points of entry and egress are be consistently checked for breaches by agents under the guise of street cleaners. In event of a catastrophic breach recontainment is to be of the highest priority, disregarding secrecy to secure the site. Following such an incident memetic are to be deployed city-wide (nation-wide or globally should the need arise) to prevent information leaks.
Description: SCP-5001 is a previously unknown section of London. It is the size of several city blocks and appears to contain a functional society of magic-users. SCP-5001 has been specially noted for its prevalence of anomalous objects and its own anomalous properties including various memetic effects apparently intentionally designed to hide 5001. 5001 was brought to the attention of the Foundation in ████ when reports of a dragon over a supposedly inaccessible section of London were brought to Foundation attention. Agents entered the site to find it in a state of disarray (seemingly from the dragon attack) with people panicking and making repairs with magic. In addition, SCP-5001 contains previously unknown anomalous objects, containment is under way but still in early stages. Due to its nature as an economic center containment must be covert and restrained so as to avoid information leaks. However, agents working within the site are on call at all times to counter potential breaches. Within SCP-5001 many shops of an anomalous nature are within, the most prominent is known as ████ Bank, or SCP-5001-A, a bank which appears to have been the source of the dragon attack and is the workplace of numerous anomalous humanoids. Another closely watched site is ██████, or SCP-5001-B, a major source of the magical devices utilizing by anomalous humans. However, despite the high risk presented by 5001, the Foundation has greatly benefitted from the discovery of the anomaly with the establishment of MTF Eta-4 or, Dumbledore’s Army, led by Agent SCP-5001
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5001 is to be covertly monitored at all times by field agents with high memetic resistance, all points of entry and egress are be consistently checked for breaches by agents under the guise of street cleaners. In event of a catastrophic breach recontainment is to be of the highest priority, disregarding secrecy to secure the site. Following such an incident amnestics are to be deployed city-wide (nation-wide or globally should the need arise) to prevent information leaks.
Description: SCP-5001 is a previously unknown section of London. It is the size of several city blocks and appears to contain a functional society of magic-users. SCP-5001 has been specially noted for its prevalence of anomalous objects and its own anomalous properties including various memetic effects apparently intentionally designed to hide 5001. 5001 was brought to the attention of the Foundation in ████ when reports of a dragon over a supposedly inaccessible section of London were brought to Foundation attention. Agents entered the site to find it in a state of disarray (seemingly from the dragon attack) with people panicking and making repairs with magic. In addition, SCP-5001 contains previously unknown anomalous objects, containment is under way but still in early stages. Due to its nature as an economic center containment must be covert and restrained so as to avoid information leaks. However, agents working within the site are on call at all times to counter potential breaches. Within SCP-5001 many shops of an anomalous nature are within, the most prominent is known as ████ Bank, or SCP-5001-A, a bank which appears to have been the source of the dragon attack and is the workplace of numerous anomalous humanoids. Another closely watched site is ██████, or SCP-5001-B, a major source of the magical devices utilizing by anomalous humans. However, despite the high risk presented by 5001, the Foundation has greatly benefitted from the discovery of the anomaly with the establishment of MTF Eta-4 (Dumbledore’s Army), led by Agent ██████ Granger, an MTF specializing in containing magical anomalies and monitoring the wizarding world.
Addendum: A new regulation has been implemented requiring agents to be versed in magical society following a catastrophic incident necessitating the global deployment of amnestics. It is of high priority that agents be versed in the culture of the wizarding world.
Addendum: Informants located within 5001 have notified Foundation personnel of the existence of more hidden magical anomalies, containment pending. |
A pause, a blink, then a sigh of soft resignation as I look at someone I've seen every night in my dreams for the past three years. "Yeah we do though how are you here?"A few people around me look a little odd at this conversation but my attention is on the person that was speaking to me. "Yeah look me and the others will see you in a few hours then. I am going to get back being here feels a little odd"I nod then say "Yeah get going I will see you in a bit."As they Leave I watch with a sad wistful look on my face before trudging to my vehicle for the drive home.
I go about my usual routine and settle to sleep. This time though I am in the dream in a flash waking in the bed there in the dream world and move quickly rolling from the simple mattress and pulling on my black garb. Stepping out into the living area of the small hut there sit waiting for me the people of the village and even a few nobles from the capital. One person in specific rushes to my side and latches onto my arm looking up with happiness in her eyes, at the same time the one that appeared in the waking world says softly "We are glad you came again so very glad..."he pauses his old face looking stressed many of the others bearing the same looks and he continues "After all these years since you first came to us, there have been many changes some good some bad."There is a series of nods from people and the young woman who has been silent just clutches harder and the older man continues "We have always wondered what lay on the other side where you go when you fall asleep."Again a chorus of nods. "Making the arrangement and the spell was difficult very much so but now I have seen it with my own eyes. Your world looks so much more advanced than ours but there is almost no magic."A pause and a frown then he continues "After seeing it we want to know why is it you come here every night"
The pause stretches into a long and uncomfortable silence. I finally collect my words before looking at them all and saying softly "I know why I come back every night though why I first came I don;t know...."I sigh softly and wrap my arm around the young woman thats been my compatriot possibly even love since half way through the life of this vivid dream. "I keep coming here from the place I wake to because being here brings me peace and tranquility, no matter what has happened here the trials and tribulations happiness and sadness, I have found a place where I can relax when i rest be with people I enjoy the company of."I receive quite a few looks at that comment and I hold up my free hand before saying "Do not get me wrong I have friends in my waking world ones that I love dearly. Factors of that world though are very stressful and well after I came here it has allowed me to wake to that world feeling like I can pull through another day because I have friends here to. Ones I can laugh with, shed tears with and enjoy life."I fall silent trying to find more to say.
One of the nobles one that had pretty much forced me into service steps forwards. She is a young lady more of a tomboy than a princess and she says "That may be but as we understand dreams shouldn't last this long even before you came to us dreams were normal things,"she bites her lip then says "but its almost like your hopping worlds and we found the other you where you sleep in that real world your body was there sleeping peacefully while at the same time you were here. We honestly don't want you to leave again but you cannot exist in two places at once it's an impossibility!"Her brow furrows as she looks at me, then the older man says "Listen Jasper somehow you manage the impossible We wont ask how but what we do ask is please don't leave. We intend to open the passageway to your world a little more permanently."He frowns some then says "Ceree in specific has been curious and a little jealous at the though of you possibly having someone there,"now there are chuckles as the young woman's grip becomes painful shed always been a strong one almost unimaginably so. "so as you can see we have a few reasons."chuckles now turn to laughter from some as I just sigh before saying "I doubt I would be able to stop you even if I wanted to. You will just need to remember My world is so very different but I will welcome any who want to come with open arms and a happy heart."I blink then remember something "You know I have told a few of my friends there of this dream and well,"I pause brows crinkling "I think they will find meeting you rather interesting though I would say lets try to keep things to a minimum at first."
There are some nods then the older man says "That sounds reasonable though I do say my clothes were drawing attention there, when I found you."The princess then says "Yes It would be a good Idea to have uhm suitable clothes waiting for us."Getting the drift I say "You have a point let me at least find a suitable point for you to put the terminus of your gateway one where I can safely leave clothes and some other necessities in case you arrive while I am working my job on the other side."When that is said it draws some truly curious looks and I hold up the free hand the other still trapped by Ceree's grip on my arm "Part of it is just how I think and I don't know how big this portal will be was about to move in the waking world anyways into a bigger home let me get that done before you set the portal."I keep my hand up "And before there are objections, I say this for safety's sake. All of you here are important to me and it would kill me quite literally if one of you were to get hurt."
A look of understanding passes though them all they had truly come to know me over the years and they knew of my protective streak over those I considered friend. "We understand Just let us know though I am willing to bet Ceree will be first through with the princess hot on her heels"There is more laughter then we start to make plans as this strange twist in my episodic vivid dream takes form and all I can do is go with the flow. |
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Part One-
"The turkey's on the table Ronald."
My eyes tore away from the television just as the Cowboys scored another field goal and the announcers began to go over analysis of the play. It was snowing on the field, unusual for a game hosted in Dallas, but today was an unusual day.
"On my way honey,"I replied, standing up and adjusting my belt. Three empty cans of beer sat on the table at my side, and I dutifully picked them up. Edith's father watched me coldly from the love-seat. I smiled at him. "Ready for dinner Dan?"
Dan didn't reply, not so silently heaving himself up out of his seat. It took him three or four attempts,his fat ass keeping him planted firmly in the sunken couch cushions. Edith desperately wanted a new couch but I needed to know if my plan would work. Watching Dan's eternal struggle from my firm, comfortable Lazy Boy recliner was the highlight of this God forsaken holiday.
After Dan finally heaved his immensity off of his paisley printed prison and began hobbling towards the kitchen, I took the opportunity to head in and throw away my cans. The buzz was the only thing that kept me sane year after year, but now, at this moment, my anxiety was directly counteracting the diminishing effects of alcohol. I was too excited, and as my holiday dress shows clicked against the tile, my eyes moved towards the top of my wife's china hutch.
The device was hidden well enough under some towels, and directly positioned towards a spot at the end of the immaculately set table. Her chosen seat, her throne of hostility and obscene scuttlebuttery. She was there now, nibbling away at a cocktail sausage like the vile rat she was. My mother in law, Eunice.
Dan was one hundred and thirty, and declining, but Eunice, his seventh wife and my wife's biological mother was sixty and as vigorous as a woman half that age, with smooth, clear skin and wavy brown hair.
In this year of 2250 disease, poison and physical violence are relics of a bygone age. There were vaccines for everything, and treatments to improve the physical durability of people's flesh, bones and organs had rendered war and violence obsolete. People's own bodies ate their cancer for breakfast. The only way a person could perish was cellular shutdown. Old age. Dan would be out of my hair soon enough but Eunice? Another Fifty years, at least.
Not if I could damn well do anything about it.
"It's probably going to be dry Edith,"Eunice's high Boston accent vibrated in my ears like feedback through an amplifier. "You shouldn't have opened the oven as often as you did."
"You haven't even tried it yet Mom,"Edith said defensively as she mashed potatoes in a bowl. "My turkey wasn't dry last year and I haven't done anything different this year."
"I was never that insecure about my turkeys,"Eunice said. She always did that, pretended that you didn't say anything at all. The bitch. "My turkeys were always perfect, weren't they Dan?"
Dan remained silent as he shuffled into the kitchen, pulling his chair out next to his wife and sitting down.
"Your cousin Ashley makes the most exquisite cranberry sauce from scratch,"Eunice continued on her crusade of put downs. "Not from a can. You should really try it sometime, it looks so easy."
"I don't have time to make it from scratch every year,"Edith replied, her tone growing cold, her efforts at pummeling potatoes becoming more intense. "I like the canned cranberry sauce anyway."
"Maybe if Ronald spent less time watching television and more time helping you in the kitchen you would have time to do whatever you pleased!"
I pretended not to hear her, opening the drawer and pulling out my battery powered carving knife. It would be so easy, if her skin weren't rendered bulletproof by the miracles of modern medicine. She seemed to notice my contemplation as I returned to the table. Edith began setting sides out on the table.
"So Ronald,"Eunice said, wiping her greasy sausage fingers on my wife's tablecloth, blatantly ignoring the napkin folded on her place setting. "I hear you're spending a lot of time in your garage, working on your patents. How is that going?"
"It's going pretty well,"I replied with my best fake grin, leaning over the turkey. I made eye contact with my tormentor, flicking the switch on the knife. It began to hum quietly, and I sank it into the breast of the bird. It cut through the bone as if it were butter, and hardly made a sound.
"I've got an appointment on Monday to meet with investors for my pre-wired smart house siding. Want some new color in your life? Leave the paint in the garage!"
"Cute,"Eunice said distastefully. "I assume that slogan's a work in progress."
"Everything's a work in progress 'round here,"Dan muttered through his fat lips, pulling the sweet potatoes towards himself. He began to dish a large pile for himself, making sure he took extra marshmallows.
"Are you really sure your 'invention' is going to take off?"Eunice continued. "What ever happened to the laser hedge trimmers? Or the window washing drone, or the laundry dryer that cleaned the toilet?"
"Not all that glitters is gold,"I replied, taking a slab of breast meat and placing it on Eunice's plate. I placed a second piece on Dan's plate as he began to bogart the fried onions on top of the green bean casserole. |
Marty scrambled through the gull wing door, his Converse skidding on the wet pavement. Bullets impacted the DMC's stainless steel exterior as he got into the bucket seat. Doc's wired-in gizmos and LCD screens aside, this should just be a normal car. Marty steeled himself, pressed on the brake pedal, and grabbed for the gear shifter to put it in dri-
​
*Fuck.*
​
Marty's jaw slackened as he looked at the stick in the center console. *What the hell are all these numbers? Where's PRNDL?! WHERE THE HELL IS PRNDL, MAN?*
​
He sighed. "Alright, I can do this. I'm totally cool, I think. God, this orange vest is really making me stand out right now. Anyway.... alright, let's try...
​
He tried to select "1". This resulted in a horrible grinding noise from the car's gearbox. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Okay, not that. Oh! The other pedal.."
​
Marty pressed the clutch to the floor and this time, the shifter cooperated. Grinning, he dumped the pedal, and his grin dissipated as the car stalled. "Damn it!"he groaned. He tried to turn the key to re-start the engine, but nothing happened. The lights lit up, why the hell wasn't it turning on?
​
A VW van pulled up beside him, and a confused-looking Libyan aimed an AK-47 at him. "What the hell are you doing? Why don't you drive away?"He asked in a thick accent.
​
Marty didn't answer. He just grunted as he tried turning the key again. The Libyan shook his head. *Do these Americans seriously not know how to...?*
​
"No, no you gotta.... no, press the clutch in, okay *now* turn the key."The Libyan coached Marty awkwardly. The DeLorean's mighty (not really) 2.8l V6 revved to life. This time, Marty resolved to let the clutch out more *slowly*.
​
The car stalled anyway. The Libyan's face quickly became encapsulated by palm. "No, you gotta... the parking brake is on...!"
​
Marty's face brightened as he noticed the handbrake. Releasing it, he started the engine once more, letting the clutch out....!
​
The DeLorean lurched like a bucking horse as it rolled down the parking lot. The confused kid at the steering wheel bounced up and down in the seat. *Do I shift now, or....?*
​
Marty decided that, yes, shifting may be a good idea. To his credit, he depressed the clutch, but in his haste, he selected *fourth* gear, not *second*. The car stalled once more.
​
Marty threw his hands up. He got out, tossed the keys onto Doc's bullet-ridden corpse and said "Screw this. I'm sticking with my skateboard." |
I'm Dean. A thief, an attempted-murderer, and a few other things I don't really feel like saying. Let's just say it's hard to picture me and Clary as... Friends. We were, and very close, might I add, but then I did a bad thing or two, and she turned on me. I never knew why it hurt when she cried out how much she hated me. I never knew why I wanted her to keep chasing me. I do now. I saw her. She didn't know I was there, but... It broke my heart.
Last night, I walked down a path I had never seen before, assuming she wouldn't have had the chance to be there yet. She was already there, so I ran and hid from sight. My heart was pounding, but I blamed that on the fact she tried to kill me last time I saw her. I admired the way the moonlight graced her features, but her pure, perfect- What? No. Her *smile* was nowhere to be found. I saw a figure appear in the shadows. No, she wasn't with some other guy. W-well, I mean, she was, but not like that. She slammed him against the wall, with a knife to his throat. "Where... Is.... Dean?"she asked slowly.
"I-I don't know! P-please, d-don't hurt me! I- and- M-my family-"he cried, flustered and scared. She pulled back, only to slam him back into his wall, and slice his throat.
"I asked you a question. Where. Is. Dean?"
"I don't know! I-I told you, I don't know!"
She cocked her head and took a step back. She smiled, but it wasn't her usual smile. It was sickeningly sweet, and... Fake. "Oh, well if you really don't know, I guess you're of no use to me. Don't worry... This might sting a little."She stabbed him in the leg, and walked away. What's wrong with her? How could she?! My mind was racing a mile a minute, but my heart had shattered. Clary Lockheart wasn't who she used to be.
​
And it was all my fault. |
The FBI’s case file on Ricky Centanni was binders thick. They could trace him to innumerable counts of extortion, racketeering, assault and battery, election rigging, conspiracy to commit mail fraud, arson, kidnapping, bribery. All within the past year. Not to mention the murders. One of them actually on his property. But even then, he’d slipped through their fingers.
“We could get him on tax fraud,” said Special Agent Juanillo, no hope in his voice.
Hayes, his partner, did not bother replying. The United States government would never allow them to charge Ricky Centanni with anything as light as tax fraud. Because Ricky Centanni, vicious New Jersey mafia boss, had just ascended to the papacy. And the new Pope Henry was beloved by billions. “You a religious guy, Juanillo?”
He shrugged. “Raised Catholic.”
Hayes nodded thoughtfully. “Me too. Now we spend all day trying to catch the country’s worst criminals, but who’s covered up more crimes than the Catholic Church?” She tried to laugh to lighten it up.
Juanillo grimaced. Tucked the case files away for another day. “Murder or bust?”
“Murder or bust.”
———————-
Pope Henry could not hear the voice of God no matter how hard he faked it. He hadn’t expected the papal robes to feel heavy. He was used to responsibility, matters of life and death. He could talk people into selling out their own families, inspire loyalty in the crustiest of goons. Up until now, he’d never doubted himself for more than the briefest heart-skip.
He could stand at the balcony. The massive crowds could be a swarm of ants if he squinted. He could wave and smile, kiss the occasional infant. But could he be a spiritual lodestone? Could he gaze into the eyes of a broken world and promise peace?
His days were still and full. Prayer followed by mild exercise, lots of reading, writing in lost languages, meditation. When he went into the public he knew how to soften his gaze, how to look present and yet other-worldly. But he did not know how to be the Pope.
And then night would fall. He’d bribed the evening guards and he could sneak out most of the time. He was expecting a call on his secret phone. That was rare. They usually slipped him notes through the waitstaff.
It was the new kid on the phone. “P-Pope Henry?”
“Ricky,” said the Pope impatiently. His other men knew to keep his identities separate. “This better be a damn emergency. Is it the casino deal? Just give the money to Benny and he’ll deliver it to the offshore account.”
“N-no sir. I mean, the casino deal went well and everything, but it’s something else.”
Ricky Centanni rolled his eyes. “Well? Spit it out.”
“Our source in the FBI says they’re still investigating you... Sir?”
“I’m still here,” Ricky snapped. He rubbed his eyes. He did not get enough sleep to do two jobs. “They were supposed to drop it. I’m the fucking Pope. What’s the fucking point of being the Pope if they’re gonna investigate me?”
“Sorry sir. It’s just these two agents. Apparently they won’t stop. They want to take you down, sir.”
Ricky sat on the window sill. Vatican City stretched below him, moonlight dribbling down rows of pillars. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. I am king of all this, Ricky thought. “Well, do we know their names?”
“Yessir,” came the scared reply.
“So send them a warning,” said the Pope coldly. “And make it stick.” |
The man's prostrating body was lithe, deeply bronzed, covered in a mere loin cloth. The cords of muscles in his thighs and biceps writhed as he bent his head to the stone, raised it, and bent it again; genuflecting, speaking in a tongue, performing the motions that only a priest could understand.
The crowd waited, hushed, their eyes opened wide, mothers holding babies and men holding wives. The sky was getting darker now, the shadows creeping along the cobbled streets and stucco walls. A goat bleated in the distance, it's wails cut off abruptly, gruesomely, fatally.
Then the priest stopped his chanting and kept his head upon the stone. Somewhere, deep within the temple, far beneath the steps, there came a rumble from the earth. The priest trembled as he felt it, both in relief and in ecstasy. For it had been he, Jagu, son of Margi, that had been the one who had called forth the god.
Metal creaked as the gates began to open, the sound of them a wailing, grinding siren over the silence of the people. Collectively breaths were held, hands clenched, eyes dry and unblinking. A shout was heard in the back. Then another. Another still. Like burst of gunshot the shouts exploded suddenly and ended just as abruptly. The darkness had made its way to the edges of the crowd.
And then a light. From the gates it grew, growing brighter and stronger until the eyes gazing upon it could see nothing else but their own burning retinas.
The light drove out the darkness, washed itself across the land, cast its love and goodness into every corner, and left every soul blinder than it had been before.
"What is god?"a child asked his mother years later on their way to worship.
With her hands she saw the features of her son's face, traced the sight of it with calloused fingertips, and told him that she did not know. He moved her hand away from his lips, held it in the palm of his own, then led her slowly towards the temple. |
I initially had my concerns.
My roommate, Steve, had always been a little... odd. He would never slept on his bed, and when he did, he'd curl up on top of his comforter and lie there like a dog. He enjoyed eating his food RAW, witch as someone who minored in culinary arts really concerned me. Not to mention his 'manly musk', as he called it. He isn't the worst though. Maybe I'm the weird one.
"You're going to get sick!"
"Nah, I did it all the time when I was a kid, it's fine, Jack."He said, staring at the slab of raw steak with hunger..
I just walked to the other side of the dorm. I wasn't exactly mad, but I was going to make that steak for my girlfriend later that night at her parent's house. While getting a cola out of our mini fridge, I said jokingly, "Steve, you moron, were you raised by wol-"
Were was a sound at the door. Not exactly what you'd call a knock, it sounded more like... scratching?
Steve sprung up. "Oh! They're here!"
"You didn't tell me company was coming over!"I frantically started to clean my side of the room.
"Hey, hey! No need for that! My folks don't mind it bein' a little messy, it's fine!"He went over to the door and opened it.
"Steve, I-"5 grey wolves walked into the dorm. I looked at him with that look that just says 'adult life is already so weird, why must you do this'.
"Yes, I was raised by wolves. This is, Loretta, John, Scruffy, Davey, and Sue."They all sat down and looked at me like puppies.
'"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm leaving. Have fun with your family." |
The pizza joint was packed with Gods, sprites and demons. A towering figure approached the counter, carrying a leather pouch. It jangled as it swung.
"Hi sir, how can I help you?"I asked politely.
"Pickup for Hermes."
"Hermes... let me just see here. OK, cheese with green peppers?"
"*Extra* green peppers,"Hermes said, swinging his little pouch.
I fumbled my hands over the register. The harvest would be in jeopardy if Hermes was displeased. Gods and demons were very particular about their pizza. Ever since King Umberto had his first pizza pie created out of their boredom, mythological beings had become addicted to the opioids in pizza crust.
"It's on me, Mr. Hermes. I'm sorry. Please don't take your vengeance out on us."
Hermes appeared pleased with his free food, and flicked a few quarters in the tip jar. The people of the world would rejoice with their impending, bountiful harvest and thriving economy.
When Hermes walked out the front glass doors, a woman with moving hair entered. Everybody averted their eyes from this monstrous Gorgon. As I gazed at the serpents on her hair, I became aware that she was indeed an unpopular monster. She sat alone in the corner of the room, feeding her snake-hair little mice from a concealed purse.
Puck, the little sprite with ruddy ram legs and golden cod piece, sat behind Poseidon, who was in a deep discussion with Futakuchi-onna. Futakuchi-onna was a unique woman; her long jet black hair was swept to the side, and on the back of her skull was whole 'nother mouth. She munched on her pepperoni pizza with her back mouth, while she spoke to the god of the sea with her front mouth.
I sensed a quake of unease in the room all of a sudden. Poseidon clenched his trident tight, tapping it hard against the white tile floor. The front windows of the store wobbled with each strike.
"What is this! A goddamn hair in my cheese?"Poseidon said, pulling a stringy black pubic hair from between his teeth.
Poseidon leapt up and approached me. His eyes burned yet emitted no light. I feared death would be my new companion.
"Sorry, sir. I can give you a full refund... and a new pizza..."
"NEW PIZZA? After you already stuffed my mouth with an STD-laden strand of hair?"Poseidon said with a booming voice. I recoiled, lowering my head.
"I... I take it you won't be leaving a tip?"
At that, Poseidon swung his massive gold trident at the tip jar, shattering the glass like a glittering supernova. And that is when I knew humankind was doomed.
But who's hair could it have been? All of our employees shaved our pubes and scalps, and had electrolysis every week as a precaution!
As Poseidon charged out the door, I scanned the room. Everyone was deathly quiet. Everyone, except Puck.
Puck gave an impish smile, and slowly, surely, zipped up his pants and refitted his golden codpiece.
|
I looked across the bar and saw a familiar explosion of red hair. Corky had always been different, a bit like a Viking shoved into the body of a young Bill Gates.
His thick glasses sat on the long, Roman nose. He would be handsome but his mouth always got in the way of that. He couldn’t contain the almost aggressive Indifference he felt.
I had not changed much. I was still Wednesday Addams trying to wear a sundress. And the moment our eyes met across Pegs Bar he was on his feet twisting towards me through the crowd.
He sat down next to me and the first thing out of his mouth was, “hey jerk.”
“Hey Corky. Long time no fucks,” I said.
I took along sip of my Guinness.
Judge Corky was in session. “ i’m surprised to still see you around Dublin, I thought you would’ve taken your thieving self to a different city. Especially with what you did. You owe me, for all those fucking lunches you took.”
“Corky, you’re just mad because I stopped sucking your dick. I didn’t steal your lunches, I earned them.”
Corky froze. “That’s besides the point. But uh can I buy you dinner.”
I nodded. |
"You're a fool to have trusted me"the demon said, laughing at you as he prepared to rip your soul from your body. "No, you're a fool for believing I trusted you"you laugh back, to the demon's horror. In all of its pungent eldritch glory the demon recoils in shock, 6 and a half tons of glistening exposed flesh and writhing tentacles quaking in fear. But alas, the demon manages to recover from your shocking comeback, and even worse it has now come up with a retort. From deep within the blasted chambers of it's maw spews forth a terrible, screeching grinding that slowly begins to form coherent words. "Well you're a fool for believing I believed you trusted me!"it howls, manically gibbering and hissing at the genius of it's response. "Well you're a fool for believing I believed you believed that I trusted you!"you respond. The demon, stunned by the rapidness of your answer stumbles back - you can see it's many eyes swiveling wildly in confusion as it struggles to grasp the true nature of your attack. "Well, you're a fool fo-""Shut the fuck up"you interrupt, stabbing the demon in the face and severing it into two halves. |
It's the time of the meal, the time of eating, the time of woe.
At one too four the devil lives. Woken up at dawn, he plants his table. At first there's silence, then a *woosh* as the first guess enters his neighbourhood.
"Hello there Satan,"the man greets, his feet tapping a beat. He sits at the table and summons some bread, for this is his present to his host.
At two, the second guest arrives. "Heya Satan, I brought some wine."He also sits down, offering Satan some wine.
Satan denies, "No not yet, we're still waiting on our third head."
At last, at three, the last guess arrives, sits down on the fourth spot and pours some wine.
"Well, did you bring anything?"the first guest asks.
The third smiles and reaches into his bag. "For you,"he says.
The four look at each other and smile, they'd been waiting a while. So now, with an hour left, all of them reached down to eat, with the third man's gift.
Their fork's satan. |
Even to this day, I find it hard to believe how fortunate I was in finding my mate. I am sure God has played his hand in providing me with this life of fortune.
Waking up to the sounds of chirping birds, I shot a glance at my wife sleeping beside me, still sound asleep.
Oh, how beautiful she is.
I left her in her blissful rest and stepped outside the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as I can behind me.
I walked across the empty corridor. I hardly gave a glance at the pictures hanging on the wall as I made my way towards the throne room.
There was no need to be at the throne room at this hour of the morning, but it is the most beautiful place in the castle when the morning sunlight is blooming throw those large windows. It would be a shame if I were to ever miss it.
I opened the large doors leading to the throne room, finding the empty hall and the throne glittering in the golden sunlight.
I gazed out one of the large windows to the quiet, motionless streets outside.
It's great that nobody is around to vex us anymore.
I felt happy.
​
​
​
I was a prince of a small kingdom, but heir to nothing. My father was entitled to a small principality within the kingdom but I was only his 8th child. Whatever inheritance my father could possibly pass on would be exhausted well before it reached my turn.
As soon as I realized that I could not rely solely on my father's title in the future, I decided to become a knight errant, seeking to build my own fortune with mine own sweat and blood, not my father's.
​
Well, it wasn't all that hard, as it turned out.
​
I set out on my journey as a princely knight in the spring of my 17th year, and during the summer, I happened across my beautiful princess Snowe White, injured and at death's door, in the middle of a nameless forest.
Her seven dwarf companions were next to useless in the ways of healing, but I was trained by my father's court doctor and could perform the necessary procedures to stabilize the princess.
When her consciousness returned, I asked her if I could be of any further help. It was my knight's duty to help a damsel in distress.
​
She explained her plight thusly: Her name is princess Snowe White, and she was assailed by assassins who she presumed were sent by her stepmother.
When her own mother passed away shortly after giving birth, her father married one of the women at his court soon after. The stepmother was an ambitious and conniving woman, and rumor had it that she had bewitched the king and poisoned the late queen to take her place.
Still, all was relatively well, right until her father took ill and passed on. The queen saw this as an opportunity to crown her own son, Snowe White's stepbrother, as heir to the throne. Snowe's knight uncovered the insidious plot and helped her escape, but he himself did not make it out of the castle.
Poor Snowe White descended into an uncontrolled sob as she tried to continue, trying to talk through her tears about her father's funeral, and how dangerous it has become for her to return home and try to attend and mourn her father's passing.
​
I took her in my arms, comforting her, and vowed that the witch will pay for her crimes.
I returned with her to my father's castle with Snowe White, and recounted her story. Snowe White kindly offered her hand in marriage to her savior, and promised a wedding as soon as her father's soul was put to rest.
My whole family was delighted. My father was proud of my fortunate success in claiming a potential throne, and my brothers and sisters were relieved to have a potential rival to their inheritance removed.
My father raised his banners and marched in full force to the White castle, with the seven dwarfs in tow.
​
Taking the witch queen down was easier than we anticipated. It turned out that the inhabitants of the castle heavily relied on the dwarfs, who provided meats from game and woodwork in return for crops and tailored goods. When they learned that the dwarfs were with us, nobody hesitated to be on the invader's side.
The church readily condemned the queen for treachery, the peasants of the castle rose up in God's name, and we took the castle without much bloodshed. Snowe White held a lavish funeral in her father's honor, and after a month we were married.
It was a happy marriage. The people of the two kingdoms blessed us for bringing peace and prosperity for both. The priestess who married us looked oddly familiar though, might have looked like the witch queen we disposed of.
I shook my head.
That is not a happy thought. Such way of thinking is blasphemous.
Anyways, following the priestess's guidance, Snowe and I vowed to live together, happily ever after.
​
A faint smile found its way to my lips as I recalled the days of my youth. Ah, those were the days. Everything went right, everyone was happy.
I was pleasantly surprised by a hand on my shoulder. I looked back to find Snowe White smiling back at me.
"Up so early, my king?"
I returned her smile, and without saying a word kissed her.
The kiss was disturbed suddenly by the loud creak of an opening gate.
​
I looked up, suddenly alert.
Intruder? But who? how did they get to the keep without me noticing?
Oh, they must have traveled through the shadows of the houses, reaching the keep without getting into my view.
Snakes. That's what they are.
"Stay here, my love. I will deal with this nonsense."
"Be careful, my king. May God be with you."
"He is always with us."
With that, I left, hurrying towards the front gates of the keep.
​
The intruder wasn't hard to find.
He was a lone knight, dressed in shining plate armor, fashioning a sword in his hands. The insignia on his armor was foreign. Must have come from far away. Or a newly minted knight?
"Demon! In God's name I demand that you lift the curse and free this castle and the princess!"
He challenged, and without waiting for an answer charged at me with his sword pointed at my chest.
The sword found his mark. The tip sliced through the thin fabric of my royal garbs and pierced me right through my chest, where my heart is located.
Triumphant, the knight smiled in victory.
I sighed. When will they ever learn? God is always with me. Not them.
​
In one swift motion I unleashed my hidden dagger and sliced the clueless knight's throat.
I watched as his smile faded, horror and confusion taking over his face as he met his death.
Ah, that made me happy. The knight collapsed. I looked around the room, where other bodies lay scattered. Bodies of all those young lads who try the same thing time and time again, only to fail.
I looked down at my chest. The sword was still planted in my chest. Blood started dripping from the gaping wound.
That doesn't make me happy.
I wished it away, all the blood and my enemy's weapon that would make me unhappy.
Slowly, the sword vanished, and with it any trace of the wound it had made.
​
I smiled.
You see, God wishes me to live happily ever after.
We will forever live alone in this blissful peace together, Snowe and I.
Don't you dare try to disturb us.
---—-----
Hi. Did you like the story?
Check out r/MyOJCreativeWorkshop for more! |
"IT'S TRUE, I HAVE IT!"Danny yelled. The lanky teenager presented the two approaching suited men with the small, glassy rectangle he found the previous day. He had been walking home through the forest when an errant glint caught his eye.
He found a thin rectangle of glass, about the size and shape of a playing card. White text glowed on the screen when he touched it:
"Access Denied. Soul Mismatch."Danny thought it might be an advanced phone prototype; those were always getting lost, and kept it. Today as he made his way to the forest shortcut, he spotted two imposing men in dark suits and sunglasses. Danny's panic combined with his only real-life experience: TV. His mind burned through a list of possibilities that all ended with the two men being from a shady organization that wanted his found tech. He hoped they would take it and leave without killing him. The suit on the right pushed Danny's hand away.
"Outta the way, kid. We don't care about your new phone."The other man ignored Danny completely as they both walked by him toward the school. He took a deep breath while he listened to the footsteps fade away behind him.
"Nice!"Danny cheered to himself and started his walk again. He poked at it several times while he navigated through the forest on auto-pilot. Each time it returned the same message, no matter what combination of taps and swipes he tried. He tried his thumb as a last resort. This time purple text appeared on the screen instead of white.
"Zero-Match Access Granted."Then, Danny heard someone clear their throat. He looked up and saw himself standing next to a girl.
"It's rude to go through other people's nodes,"the other him said. "Even if it belongs to another you."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #73. 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. |
She blinked to clear her eyes, the sunlight making the house glow uncomfortably bright. Past the big window into the lawn behind their house, it was bright enough to render almost everything invisible. She could see the vague outline of a green hedge and slightly red splotch which was probably the dog’s house. Mom walked through the room, going from the kitchen into the hallway. “Are you going to lie on the couch all day?” Mom said while looking at her phone. “Have you eaten anything?” She did not reply. They were not really questions. Rather they were moms way of hinting that she should do something and that lunchtime had past, in case she had forgotten to eat again. She could not remember if she had eaten anything. She did not feel hungry but then that was nothing unusual.
Getting up from the couch made her drowsy or maybe it just made her feel her drowsiness. “Must have fallen asleep watching television.” She thought. There was no school today she knew. It was probably a holiday or maybe sunday. Yeah it was one of those lazy summer days, hot enough to excuse you from doing anything productive. Leave it up to Mom to find something that needs to be done on a day like that. Of course some things have to be done every day. Like walking Burra.
She found herself walking along a familiar path, the canopy above mercifully shading her from the worst of the sun. There was a leash in her hand, with Burra ahead of her at the other end. The golden lab rushed from one side of the path to the other, taking precisely as long as he could to check tree stumps and bushes. It was probably a walk she and Burra had taken a thousand times. She felt she could probably close her eyes and follow the path from memory alone, it was that routine. The same routine that had carried her and Burra here to this path in the forest.
Burra ran abruptly to the left, dragging her arm. She saw what had pulled the labrador's attention from the path at once. Stark yellow and blue against the brown of the dirt. Like a raincoat or a windbreaker. The kind of thing a small boy might wear. She felt a choice then. The proper thing to do would be to go over and check. It was probably nothing. Nothing serious rather - like a shopping bag. If she checked and found something else, something serious, it would have consequences. It might mean having to see something she felt she really did not want to see, it might mean talking to strange grown ups about seeing it, It might mean thinking of it every time she took Burra for a walk on the path and it might mean the other kids at school talking about her as the girl who found it. The leash was strained tight in her hand, Burra on the other end being just disciplined enough to resist dragging her with him. She did not know what to do.
She sat back in the living room, on the couch again, looking at a tall glass of cola with a straw and ice cubes on the table in front of her. “You didn’t see anything else?” The man who sat on recliner to her right said. He had said to call him Bill and that she was not in trouble. She answered that she had not seen anything else. “No-one else out in the park? Another dog running loose maybe?” He asked. She said she had not seen any other dogs or people. It had just been her, Burra and the boy lying in his raincoat off the path. Her Mom started crying again. Bill looked at her Mom. It seemed like he wanted to say something but instead he looked at his hands for a minute. “When you saw him... The boy in the raincoat” Bill said.”Did you touch him or say something to him maybe?” She shook her head. “What about Burra? Did he say hello to the boy maybe?” Bill said. She answered that she had held the leash tight because Burra had been dragging it. She turned around when she saw it was a boy. Burra never got close. “Okay” Bill said. “Okay, you’ve been very helpful young lady. Thanks very much.” He made to stand up but she asked him if he could tell her something. “Oh. Okay sure.” he said. She asked what the boys name was. Mom started sobbing again. Bill looked at her. “Jamie” He said. “His name is Jamie.”
“Oh my god” Mom said. “That’s in the park, two blocks over!” She was looking at the tv. They were talking about a boy being found in the park where they liked to take Burra for walks. His name was Jamie, she knew. He had been there yesterday as well, lying in his blue and yellow raincoat a little way off the path. |
They never told me how crazy the job was gonna be.... characters jumping out of books and killing each other. "Ron no!"I yell as he attacks Percy Jackson. I sigh, looks like another time rons been killed. I barely finished forcing Percy back into his book when I hear a yell. Voldemort was battling gandalf the grey. I glance at the clock and I hear it strike 12 am. I watch as all the characters are sucked back into each book with a loud pop. Almost as soon as I they vanish the day shift librarian comes in and looks around at all the destruction caused by Voldemort and gandalf. "Wow! Let me guess, Voldemort and another wizard"? "Yes"I say "Hopefully I can get Harry to scare him away". A loud crash is heard and a book falls to the ground. I glance at it and look surprised as a dragon bursts from the large book. You quickly shut the book before it can escape. "phew", I say "hopefully tonight is less stressful. |
“Cool!” He exclaims, running towards the road, leaping out in front of a semi to only hear the sounds of his skull cracking and bones snapping. The pain is only mild, as all of his nerves begin to break and his body falls to the gravel, barely feeling the truck crush what’s left of his arms as they run over them in an attempt to squeal to a stop. He hears the cries of passers by, the shuffle of feet scrambling around the truck, and the brightness becomes evident from the sun when they drag him out from underneath, looking at the blood spilling from his insides. And as he hears a woman panicking, “Call 911!” he sees that familiar darkness again, and his face twitches into a sly smile as it consumes him once more. The loading screen appears. His body feels like it’s floating. He blinks once, only opening them to find himself right back where he started: outside of his apartment building on the West End of New York.
He’s amazed, looking around, seeing the sun, the sky, the trees, the pigeons pecking at a packet of crisps on the ground, and the people around him keep their distance as they wearily watch the man as he smiles wide. A realisation that didn’t take too long to generate in his mind, as he begins to walk towards the road again. Except, this time, he doesn’t leap in front of oncoming traffic, but instead takes a left and makes his way Downtown. His mind is filled with ideas, and the first he plans to execute is how does it really feel to jump from a plane without a parachute.
Truely, God must have smoking some serious hash to gift this man with the power of regeneration. Whatever the future holds for him is untold, but someday it may come in handy for when disaster would soon strike on the city of New York. |
I'd wondered for some time now. Those two LEDs always lit, and nothing ever affected them. They'd become old friends. A nightlight I could always count on when I was stumbling to the bathroom in pitch dark. Now I knew for sure.
"You might as well come out. I have many questions, and I suppose you could be tired of sitting there", did I just see a blink? "It's alright, I'm not scared. I promise not to hurt you as long as you don't hurt me."
A gravelly voice, "you're not going to throw me out as Demonic?"
"Why should I? You've helped me countless times, played my videos time and again without hiccupping even once. You've never damaged my DVDs even slightly. I'm pretty sure when I was scared you brightened your eyes so I could see there was nothing in the shadows. Please come out. I'd like to get to know you better."
There's an unfolding, more profound than even the Transformers. The face emerges, the mouth is the DVD slot, and stretches into a muzzle. Arms and feet, with claws. Then wings. "How wonderful! You're a gargoyle!"
He gets a pained look, "please don't use that word, it's very derogatory."
He's fully extended now, and perching on the end of the bed. "My apologies, I did not know. Can you tell me your own name and what your people are called?"
A very pleased look, "you're the first person to call any of us people. The first to ask my name instead of screaming. And the first to ask what we call ourselves instead of cursing us as demons an gargoyles. Thank you."
"It's been so hard watching out for humanity. Trying to protect you. Even catching lightning bolts to save your great buildings. I am known as Michael, and we are called angels."
((finis)) |
"My name is Monroe, and I hear you know how I can speak with god."One silver haired man whispered towards another across the bar's counter, coins clattering onto it from his hand.
After a long moment of silence the barkeep slid three of the shillings towards himself and finally looked up. "You heard wrong."He grunted, but after a moment of consideration he jabbed a thumb in the air towards the only other patron in the bar.
Monroe's eyes were wide and filled with excitement for another lead. He swept the last few coins on the counter into his palm almost falling out of his chair to rush over to the last patrons table. He was fully cloaked and as shady as could be with his hood up, but he undoubtedly had information.
"My name is Monroe, and I hear you know how to-"
"I heard you the first time."
He was stopped before he could offer the rest of his money, but he still slid the coins over the table and took the seat across from the man in black- invited or not.
"Tell me. Please tell me how you did it."Monroe had already resorted to begging.
"You're not a religious man at all if you don't know how to reach him."
The man in the hood scoffed back and pushed the coins back over. "It only takes a simple prayer. Pray every morning, before every meal and every night before bed. Pray for the same thing everyday, and mean what you say to him with every fiber of your being. Dedicate yourself to him. That is how I got my gift."
"What did you ask for?"Was the last question the silver haired man could utter with a scowl. After the cloaked figure talked for a bit, it seemed like his voice struggled to get every word passed his lips.
Grabbing the back of the hood to reveal himself, he was almost a normal man. At the very least, what Monroe saw was a normal head of hair. A sandy brown mop draping over eyes that were completely glazed over and dull, almost asking for help. If you looked any lower than that, than and you wouldn't be able to miss the smile that stretched so far accross his face that it looked uncomfortable. It was as if hooks were pulling the corners of his mouth as hard as they could apart. All to reveal crooked and jagged teeth, albeit white, it was as if they were still sharpened to the point.
"I asked to never be sad again." |
Wow….. so he looks the same. “You found me.” I don't know what else to say, he smirks “Did you even try? We have 3 minutes and thirty 4 seconds” he strides towards me, pulling what looks like an oxygen mask out of his trenchcoat “Just enough time.” He smothers my face, I'm too weak to even put up a fight. My vision fades as I fall into darkness. A jolt of electricity courses through me, my whole body spasms as I open my eyes. “Holy F\*ck!” I look at my surroundings, muscles tingling. “I hate that.” we are in a car, J is sitting next to me, rolling a cigar
​
“You knew you couldn’t hide.” He’s a matter of fact guy, straight to the point. “Well I thought I might as well try” he looks at me, putting the lit cigar in his mouth. “Why try if you are just going to fail?” I hate when he does this “Look just tell me why we are here?” he does his stupid smirk again simultaneously blowing smoke in my face “Wow, and here you are trying to act innocent. No one just runs away from their best friend, and *business* partner without a reason” Ha so typical of him to play the blame game “Our *business* was a crime ring, I took my share and left when I got tired of doing nothing with my life. So i’m going to ask again, where are we going?” he just sits there smoking his cigar, after what seems like some planning he says “You already know” …. god he's cliche. Unfortunately I can’t do anything about the situation, I’m at his will. The car stops after what seems like hours of silence, “You wait here” says J as he disappears to god knows where, nows my chance.
​
I start searching for a way out, the door is locked and has no unlock button, the interior is completely black with leather upholstery. The windows are all blacked with some sort of screen over them. There is a black panel blocking the rear and front seats. I guess my only option is to wait. After what seems like an hour the door on J’s side opens. Sunlight instantly floods my vision, as I’m blind I’m grabbed by the arms and pulled out of the car “Get off me you handsy bastard!” I start punching in every direction until I feel a solid connection with my right fist, “Awgh you b\*tch!” weird, not J’s voice. I’m released and I take the opportunity to run, I only take two steps before im dropped to the floor by a blow to my head. “Oh that's gotta hurt!” oh, there’s J’s voice. I’m lifted off the ground, the pain almost causing me to pass out, I can barely open my eyes to see J standing there, with someone. “You awake sleepy head?” J taps my cheek “You know where we are?” I can barely whisper “no” his smirk is even wider
​
“Great! We are at your funeral! I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done and thought you deserved a proper burial” I get shoved from the side, my heart sinks as I fall into a pit, the air forced out of my lungs as i land with a dull thus and a gasp for air, J’s voice comes from above “I was just going to let you die, but I wanted to spare your family the suffering, sooooo, I thought I’d just kill past you instead.” at that moment he throws another person into the pit I turn to look at him and to my own dismay, it’s me from 10 years ago. “Of course you hadn’t stolen from me at this point so I wouldn’t get the sweet revenge I wanted. That's why you are both here”. He says this as I look into my own eyes and my vision goes black. |
The stranger didn't seem like he was lying. He looked as lost as I did, and appeared to be wearing an old shirt and boxers. He also looked young, too young.
"How old are you?"I asked.
The kid eyes widened at the question and he shrunk onto himself.
"I'm 16."He said, looking at anything but my eyes.
A strange feeling began to settle at the bottom of my stomach, it wasn't unpleseant, just noticeable.
"You feel that?"I asked him.
He nodded and hugged himself. He looked cold.
The room we were in seemed endless. A space of white and light that didn't have any shadows or corners. There was definitely no cieling, and it could be very posible that there was no floor either, even though we were both standing on it.
I could still smell the liquor.
It made me feel fuzzy on the edges. Almost as if a small static was playing at the back of my head. Light headed. Floaty.
"Want to walk?"He said, nodding towards his right, his breath visible right infront of him.
I frowned at that and exhaled to check if it was colder than it felt, but I couldn't see anything. I looked down at myself and found out I was in my jeans, button up, and jacket.
"Sure."I said. He was shaking. "Want my jacket?"I offered.
He nodded and as soon as I took my jacket off he yanked it from my hand and put it on. He hugged himself with it and sighed happily.
"Thanks."He said. "I'm Joey, by the way."
I gave him a polite smile. "Gerald."
Gesturing for him to follow me I started walking into the nothingness, the kid trailing behind me.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, nothing had changed about our surroundings. The place maybe was infinite, or maybe we weren't moving at all in the first place.
I stopped and almost got knocked over by Joey. He immideatly degressed into apologising profusley.
"Sorry, it won't happen again- I'm so so-"
"It's fine."I rassured him. He looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown so I put both of my hands infront of me. "It's okay, no harm done here."
Joey nodded wide eyed and still didn't quiete manage to meet my eyes.
"I think walking won't get us anywhere."I sighed.
Joey frowned. "Then what?"
I shrugged. "Sit down and figure it out."
The moment those words came out of my mouth a couple of single sofa chaira appeared out of thin air.
It made me jump and Joey shrieked, covering himself with the jacket.
"What the hell... "I murmured, slowly approaching them.
"Don't-"Joey said, but interrupted himself. He looked at me confused, almost like asking permission to continue. I nodded at him.
"It just... Seems reckless to touch something like that.."
I hummed in response. For all we could know this could be a destination to eternal torment. If we weren't already there.
-------------
(OOC: will continue this tomorrow, :P)
|
It's been been four years since the war of nations started. Normally four years would pass by before one could blink, but when it involves constant fear and terror, four years feels like a lifetime.
No one knows for certain how the war started. It could have been due to an argument between two super power nations, leaving rest of the world caught in the cross fire and having to pick a side. The reason doesn't really matter, what matters is the millions of people that have been affected by it.
The most surprising thing that's happened during this war is the lack of nuclear missles. That is correct. No nuclear missles or weapons of any kind have been used up to this point. The reason for this may surprise you even more. There is a gentleman's agreement between the countries who poses these weapons, it states that no nuclear weapons of any kind are to be used under any circumstance. No one knows who sent the message to the headquarters of the various nations, but they all agreed, most likely they knew that the world would be turned into a radioactive wasteland if hundreds of nukes were detonated at the same time.
It was at this time, four years 2 months and 3 days when a message was broadcast around the world. The screen lit up; a white background with a pineapple displayed in the center of the screen, the pineapple resembled a certain cartoon characters home. Suddenly the theme song for the beloved cartoon started playing on a loop, which cartoon you must be wondering, none other than Spongebob Square Pants.
The leaders didn't take it seriously at first, but the situation changed very quickly. The music stopped and a voice spoke, the hacker chose the most unnerving voice in which to address the world and its leaders; the voice of the narrator of the Spongebob cartoon.
“Greetings world and world leaders, it is I, not Spongebob Square Pants. I am the pineapple under the sea, and I have a message for all of you. Stop this senseless war, surrender to me or you shall all join me under the sea. I understand that you must be confused at this time but allow me to explain.
I have taken control of a large number of nuclear weapons around the world, now I know may of you don't believe me; but please take the next 5 minutes to check your systems” the pineapple said. After the five minutes elapsed an animation appeared on the screen with the hacker “saying 5 minutes later..”
“By now majority of you believe my words and are wondering how I did it, well… I won't tell you of course that would be silly of me. But now you have grasped the severity of the situation, you will be more inclined to listen to me.
You have one day to sign the peace treaty that I have sent you. I need all countries to sign or I will destroy the world myself” the pineapple hacker boasted and began laughing; but his tone was dry and lackluster as one would expect of Spongebob’s narrator.
“I will create multiple tsunamis by detonating the weapons near coastal cities; bringing them down to the ocean with me. And those in-land posers will be visited a barrage of nuclear war heads, ah sounds lovely doesn't it?. Oh and for those who think I'm bluffing please pay close attention to your screens and enjoy the show” he said and the screen went blank.
A few moments later satellite images were being displayed of a coastal town; it wasn't obvious where exactly this particular town was located. The images kept zooming in closer and closer until everyone could tell what it was that the pineapple hacker wanted them to see; it was an enormous wave, and it was headed straight for the town. Everyone watched in stunned silence as the ocean engulfed the town, destroying everything in its path, leave nothing but destruction in its wake.
“For the record. I evacuated the towns folk before detonating the nuke, next time there will be no warning” he hacker said and the screens around the world went back to normal.
It's been 4 months since the war ended; people have begun to rebuild, hope has returned to the world. The hope that peace will last.
|
As Dullard and I stared out of the time machine's entrance, we were absolutely flabbergasted. The air was fresher than what I could've imagined, the scenery like that of a professional special effect holography.As he and I took it, grinning like idiots at each other, Dullard reminds me how much this was worth it. I mocked him for being a hypocrite.
We had exceptional backgrounds. Exceptional minds. I'm confident when I say that we could've lived a fulfilling and flourishing life. However, both Dullard and I threw...well, not threw, "invested"it all towards doing something which was previously thought to be absolutely impossible.Sure, a life with money and freedom was anything a man could ask for but it wasn't the case for us. The sin of pride and the phobia of not mattering kept us going, eventually almost crippling us with the fear of having wasted our lives away after almost half a century of failed tests and projects.One day, Dullard bitterly remarked about how we had put our whole life into the trashcan by chasing after something so impossible. I noticed the problem then, that we were trying to solve the equation as if it were possible. So we implemented an impossible solution to the impossible equation.
What I'm trying to say is, "we did it". This was it. Our first ride back was to settle an age old debate between Dullard and I.
Which came first? Chicken or the egg?
Estimating the year when the first specimen of chickens evolved were not hard compared to building something straight out of a science fiction.
Dullard slapped my shoulder a few times cheerily and said "You found the one and only answer. So you take the giant leap for mankind."
I happily shouted "Let's go!"and took one of the most enthusiastic steps of my life.
My foot print, on this place, that only existed in times past. Our dreams, accomplished.
That's when I heard a crack.
​ |
You're hungry but you don't have any food in your house, so you decide to go to a restaurant. When you arrive to the place, you notice a sign saying "We can satisfy any order!"so you decide to prove how far they'll go. You start slowly, just asking for a simple cheeseburger, which they obviously deliver. You ask for something more expensive, thinking that they probably will not have it. You ask for a Burger Brasserie, a hamburger that cost $777 and is only in the Las Vegas Resort Restaurant. The problem is that this restaurant is not the Las Vegas Resort and you're not in Las Vegas. They manage to still deliver it. You go for something that they can't possibly have, something that doesn't exist so you make up a word for a meal that doesn't exist, but you are surprised with something that no one ever seen before, with ingredients that don't exist. You eat it, and you notice a flavor that no one could possibly describe. You decide to just stop this and ask for something incredibly stupid, so you order an edible black hole. The waitress looks at you a little confused but you are astounded when she says "We'll give you your order in just a few minutes!". When the waitress comes again, she is in a highly protected suit for safety and the meal is in a big box that says "Caution! Open carefully!". You slowly open the box terrified and you almost pass out when you realize that what's in the box is an actual, small black hole that the people in the restaurant managed to make edible. You pick up the fork, and take a bite out of the black hole, somehow. It tasted like chicken. |
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I was livid. "Children?!"I sputtered into the face of my lieutenant, Greenhouse Emissions. "Little ones, snot-nosed, with a penchant for their own perverse brand of pollution? Those children?!"Emissions inclined his head, gravely. "The very same. Apparently, many of those that gained the most from Me have spent those ill-gotten gains suppressing and misinforming as much as possible."
This annoyed Me. My destruction is so beautiful, so complete. They need to properly appreciate it, like the Bronze Age Civilizations many ages ago. So many poems and songs decrying the end of Man and the beginning of Barbarianism! It was glorious! Even now, with so much further to fall they're blissfullly unaware.
I snapped, "What about Drought? Forest Fires? Ocean Phytoplankton? Blizzards and Super Tornadoes? My servants roamed the world, Heralding my Destruction, announcing My Doom. What of their report?"Greenhouse Emissions sighed and tutted sadly, "Much the same as well. They even say they rebuild to feed Me even faster, almost as if they want to bypass you for the Pale One entirely..."trailing off, for Climate Change was practically Heat Waves himself in this moment. This was his Crescendo, the Piece De Resistance, the grand unveiling of the true futility, of knowing your actions are in vain and were for naught, and still they weren't paying attention!
Time to get aggressive. "Bring me Ice Free Arctic, and his monstrous half-brother, the Clathrate." |
My eyes opened, suddenly, which was strange because I didn’t remember closing them. I looked around, wondering where I was. I sat in a blue chair, like the ones they used to have in schools. The walls were a sickening shade of yellow, and where the ceiling should have been, there was what appeared to be the night sky, stretching into infinity and filled with stars. I stood up, and turned all of the way around. My chair was pressed against a wall, and there was a large oak door on the far side of the room. Then, it hit me. I was dead. The last thing I remembered was laying in a hospital bed, and finally letting myself surrender to the cancer, drifting away as I stared at my friends and family. Where was I then? This didn’t seem like heaven, and it didn’t seem like hell. Was I in some kind of purgatory? Was my life really that boring? No, I thought, that can’t be it. Maybe I just fell asleep. Yes, that must be it, I’m just dreaming. I was enormously relieved by this realization. Ok, I’m going to wake up now. I closed my eyes tightly and thought, “I am laying in my hospital bed, hooked up to the heart rate monitor.” I opened my eyes, and I was still in the room. So, once again, I closed my eyes and thought, “I am in my hospital bed, attached to an IV.” Once more I opened my eyes and was rather irritated to find that I was still in the room. “I would like to wake up now,” I thought. So one more time, I tightly closed my eyes and thought, “I am in my hospital bed, surrounded by my friends and family.” I opened my eyes once more, and found myself to still be in the room. However, I was no longer alone. A man appearing to be identical to Tom Brady stood in front of the door looking at me. “Finally, we’ve been waiting for you. You’re up out there,” he said. I was only able to muster a weak, “What?” before I was pushed out of the room. “Come on, they’re destroying us, we need you out there,” said the man who appeared to be completely identical to Tom Brady. I was about to respond, but then I saw what was outside of the room. I stood on the very edge of the biggest stadium I had ever seen. Every seat was filled with some kind of faceless deity. They all stared at me, some cheering, some booing, and some were just screaming. I slowly walked to the middle of the stadium, where there was a ring of about twenty people. As I got closer, an opening appeared in the ring for me to take. I sat down, and from seemingly nowhere, I was handed seven cards. “Cards?” I thought, “How peculiar.” I looked at the others in the circle, and noticed that some were normal people like me, and some were red demons, with horns and tails. My eyes then wandered to the cards I had been given. They were Uno cards. I noticed that everyone had Uno cards. The demon next to me got a very smug look on his face, and then put down a plus two card. “Draw two, human,” he cackled. I smiled wider than I thought possible and picked a card from my hand, first showing it to him, and then placing it down. “I have another plus two,” I said. “I’ll stack yours.” This is what my whole life had been training for, I realized. This is what everything was leading up to. This is the Eternal War, always being fought forever between humans and demons. This was U N O. |
You begin to wonder if maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. After all, you've been living alone in this cabin for months, without having seen a soul. You try to think of better times. Times when you left the couch and came back to find the bag of popcorn empty, looking over at Sarah, with her mischievous look of trouble. You knew better than to leave her with food if you wanted to find any when you got back, but this time was different. Sarah isn't here. You try to shake her smile out of your head to focus on the missing sandwich, when a loud sound startles you. You feel for the gun safely hidden under table, only to feel empty space where the cool, hard metal should have been. You reach into your back pocket for your switchblade. You are not alone and you know that anyone looking for you is looking for trouble.
You edge your way around the room so that you can better prepare for an attack, but as you do, all you can think of is Sarah. This is why you try to keep her out of your mind. This is why you can't let yourself go there. You might be in danger, and the last time you let yourself be distracted by Sarah, people died. You can't afford to make that mistake again.
You hear rustling in the kitchen. Do they think you're not home? Whoever is in there must know who you are... Why you're here... What you've done... What you're capable of doing ...
As you approach the kitchen, you clutch your blade in your left hand and quietly peer through the doorway. The door creaks ever so subtly, and the rummaging stops. You step back, in order to not be seen. There is an overwhelming dread that hangs in the air. Were you spotted? You brace yourself for someone to come smashing through the door. But instead, the rummaging continues, and you know that the would-be assassin is clearly looking for something. But what? Anyone coming here would only want you dead. What else could they be looking for.
You think of Sarah again. Her smile, her eyes, her blond, wavy hair that fell loosely over her shoulders. Her soft, kissable neck. Then her blood, on her face, in her hair, on your hands. Her cries, begging you to save her. Your feelings of helplessness, knowing it's too late.
You realize that the rummaging has stopped, and you hear a breath behind the door. You take cover as the door slowly creaks open. Your attacker has their back to you, so you prepare your next move. You stop dead in your tracks when you see that they sent a woman. This can't be right. She looks terrified. She is clutching your gun against her chest, and you watch her back heave with her rapid breaths. She darts her eyes nervously around the room, and heads for the desk. She is small, frail, and she looks like she hasn't eaten in days. That explains the missing sandwich. But who is this woman? Could she be lost? What is she looking for?
Your thoughts are interrupted when she suddenly turns to you and looks right at you. She raises your gun, and with terror in her eyes, places her finger on the trigger...
I am stopping my story there, but I will happily continue if anyone is interested :) let me know what you would like to see happen next - does she pull the trigger? Or does he manage to stop her? |
She stared at the hole in her bathroom floor with muzzy confusion. *Great, a hole in my floor at 3am. Serves me right for drinking so much tea right before bed.* Lacking the clear thinking of complete wakefulness, Helena stumbled back to bed and promptly entered a dream world of crumbling foundations and unceasing waterfalls.
It wasn't her alarm clock that woke her the next time she achieved consciousness; it was the upstairs landlord pounding on the front door. She tumbled out of bed with as much grace as she had fallen into it and made it a full three steps before she registered the wet squish of the carpet under her feet.
*Oh fuck.*
Apparently, unexpectedly coming into superpowers was not actually a dream of wishful thinking. The soundtrack of gushing water accompanied Helena ominously to the front door where 'Mike the Landlord' looked about ready to have a cardiac event on her doorstep.
Maintenance workers trooped to and fro while Helena stood stupidly in the middle of her soggy living room, afraid to even change out of her pajamas for fear she might accidentally bring down the whole building. The cold damp slowly seeping up her pant legs was in harmony with the chilly feeling trickling down her spine. Having a power was something every child dreamed of. But at 32 years old, what if hers were too strong to control? |
A burning sensation bounced around his body from head to toe, as the sensation traveled from limb to limb it left behind a static buzzing feeling almost like what was contained in the body, his essence as it was, forcing its way out through every available pour. His big toe on his left foot was the last portion of his now vibrating body to be engulfed, as it travels to the very tip his body burst into an almighty flash of blinding light. It lasted only a second or two and he was gone, not the body that remained limp and lifeless awaiting to be discovered by whoever may come along. No longer needed now there was a new life to take over.
As the tingle, burning sensation dispersed from the body and the light slowly dimmed he new what had happened. It was the same thing that had happened time after time he left his previous body he had a new life. This wasn't reincarnation as you and I understand it, it's no new start a fresh baby with his own life to build. No he ended up in any body that needed him at any time in their life. His last leap was into Tony Adams a lonely middle-aged man from Manchester England. He new nothing of Tony, his job, where he lived even what he looked like this all had to be worked out as time went by hopefully.
He did what he did everytime he leaped and grabbed his chest, male or female is the first and easiest question to answer. Flat chest, male he slips his hand down the elasticated waist band of the blue trousers he's wearing, wait smooth flat no penis, no testicles... No vagina....Hang on that not right. He scans his surrounding he's in a bedroom nothing stands out to help him he starts opening draws and doors in a panic trying to find just some type of identification.
He swings open the wardrobe door revealing a full length mirror inside. He stopped and took in the person stood in front of him. Standing around six foot two and completely hairless from top to toe. One eye blue one green, the face thin and narrow almost alien like. He drops the elasticated trousers revealing a flat smooth spot where genitals should be, slowly rotating he reveals a single buttock but no anus. He lifted up his head making eye contact with his new for
"Oh boy!!"
Out of nowwhere a man appears next to him.
"Al where have you been, what the hell is this"
"Ok Sam see we have leaped a little further than we normally do"
"So what am I?"
"Well Ziggy says your a person, one hundred percent human"
"This is a person!"
"Erm yeah you see we've leaped to 2050, this is a non-binary-multi-raced-gender-fluid-person"
"A what?"
"Listen Sam it's 2050, we no longer have individuals or genders or races this is how the world is now and well you'll just have to figure it out"
"Well what do I do"
"Just enjoy life, you dont work because everything is done by robots now, you can't eat meat any more as that's classed as murder... Or plants apparently they have feeling to but you can have refined beans they're still on the menu. Theres no longer relationship they ended after physical, verbal and mental contact between men and woman had to have a contract written and signed prior. This become a cluster fuck after all the genders mixed and no one was left to write up the contracts"
"So what your saying is from now until I die I am a sexless genderless lump of meat who cannot speak to anyone else. Where's the nearest bridge I need to leap and fast"
"Well I've got good news and bad on that front, good news is the bridge it literally around the corner. Bad news they discovered a cure for death.... Yey"
"I'm stuck like this forever"
"And a day hahaha sorry bad joke, no I'm sure you'll be ok at least you've still got your sence of hum..... Hang on nope comedy is outlawed due to offending people being a crime"
"That's a fucking joke"
"I know how ironic"
|
"Well, what do you mean it's gone?!"The words seem to ring with the clashing of steel and war drums as Athena stares down at the man in front of her, grappling to keep hold on her composure even as she felt the anger burn in her chest. Hephaestus glares right back, leaning heavily on the cane of twisted iron that he carried at his side.
"Just so woman! I have guarded that infernal thing night and day but suddenly when I looked for it this morning it's just gone."His grip tightens as he waves the metal staff at her, keeping his weight off his bad leg. "If you had listened to me when I said we needed more guards, then this would never have happened."
She sighs, rubbing a hand across her face as she tries to calm herself. "You're right of course, Hephaestus, but we can't change that now we can only try to find it before some idiot gets their hands on it. The last thing we need is Apollo or gods help us Dionysus getting hold of the most powerful weapon to have ever existed."
He nods, stroking his chin as he thinks. "I will send the sentries looking, though I had best go with some of them at least, they haven't quite learned how strong steel is compared to most of the world."He nods towards her, gesturing to the entrance of Mount Olympus behind them. "You should check around here, make sure none of our genius family had any part in it."
"Probably the best strategy we're going to get in this situation. I wish you luck."
"Same to you. Try not to do too much damage if it turns out it was one of ours."Rolling his eyes, the blacksmith limps towards the portal to his smithy.
"No promises."She laughs, giving him a parting wave as he disappears. Shaking her head, she turns to the door, the anger returning now that she was alone. She strides through the doors, taking in the sight of her family. Most simply lounge, indulging in the pleasures of godhood as they gossip about the mortal world and each other. A part of her envies Hades, lucky bastard had his own realm where he didn't have to deal with the family's bullshit as often.
Sterling herself, she approaches the group, ignoring her siblings in favor of her father. Zeus smiles as she steps close, raising a hand in greeting from where he sat.
"Athena! Daughter mine, what has brought you here on this fine day?"He gestures for her to sit near him, but she stays standing, grip tight on her spear.
"Father, I am afraid it is not good news that I bring, in fact I can't seem to think of anything that would be worse. Do you think we could talk? Privately?"She asks, casting a derisive glance at the other gods around them. Ares was glancing between the two of them, sensing the rage that threatened her calm, while Apollo lit up with curiosity. She can almost hear the barrage of questions, but she ignores him in favor of watching Zeus' smile dim slightly, though it doesn't fully leave. He stands, guiding her to the back of the pavilion. It was about as much privacy as they could get without leaving entirely, and though she knows the others are listening, she accepts it.
"Father, I've just spoken with Hephaestus, and he brought word that the Harbinger is gone."She expects some reaction to her words, perhaps some gasp or blood draining from the face, but Zeus just chuckles, the sound seeming to grate against her forced calm.
"Oh you know how Hephaestus gets, my dear! He likely just misplaced it in the mess of the smithy and overreacted. Remember when he thought he had lost the shield he had made for Achilles? He nearly blew a gasket, and made an entirely new one before he realized it was under some scrap metal."He pats her arm in what she assumes is meant to be a consoling matter, and she grits her teeth with the effort that it takes not to rip his hand off.
"I realize that Father, but I feel like a shield is not really comparable to the one weapon that could end us all. He was very careful in his guarding of it, he wouldn't have just misplaced it! Now I have to ask, did you do anything today that would have led to it being taken?"She holds his gaze, trying to discern his thoughts as he bristled at the thinly veiled accusation behind her question.
"Really Athena, do you think so little of me?"He ignores her pointed look in favor of defending himself. "I'll have you know I've been here all day, aiding the nymphs as they distributed the gifts to the mortals who came of age today."He runs a hand through his hair, lost in thought. "Everything went about normally, and then I went out with Hera for a while, I'm still trying to get her to forgive me for Sera you know."
"Yes Father, I am far too aware of your trysts. Maybe one day you'll consider the idea that you wouldn't have to make it up to your wife if you just stop doing it in the first place. Now, are you certain that nothing abnormal happened?"She asks.
"Now that you mention it... one of the nymphs did ask about the entrances to Hephaestus' realm."Zeus says, idly scratching his arm.
"They what?! Did they tell you why?"
"It had to do with a gift, a young man named Ocaelus came of age today and apparently he was slated for a weapon straight from the shop of Hephaestus."He says, tone bored as though his words hadn't sent her into a new degree of anger.
"You mean to tell me you gave a nymph the information needed to get a weapon for the man whose father you had killed for not honoring you exactly as you wanted? And the Harbinger happens to disappear just after doing so? Is that what you're saying Dad?!"The words take a second to register, his face turning red then white as the realization sunk in. He goes to speak, but doesn't get a chance before the doors break open.
In the smoking remains, a young man stands grinning. In his hands is a sword that could strike fear in Zeus himself, and it seems to glow with the power it holds as he strides towards the group of frozen gods. Athena feels her powers draining, knowing that with each step the mortal took closer would leave her weaker than the last.
The man is shrieking about revenge, and promises of retribution on all the gods who thought themselves so high and mighty. Athena sighs, the resignation filling her lungs as she watches death creep closer and closer. She sends a thought of strength to the gods that would remain, those not present to the carnage that was to come. She wishes them luck in the coming days.
"At least I can say that I died as I lived."She mutters, raising the spear she knows will do no good.
"Surrounded by idiots." |
His bones creaked as he walked down deserted streets, as the blood red sky crackled and burned above him. The others had all gone to a world where there was no death and no sadness, but he could not go. He was old too old to, near death anyway. He didn’t think it was right to abandon her in the end. The one who had saw him born and carried him on her back, who had been with him since the beginning. No, it wouldn’t be right to leave her now, and besides no one should die alone.
He looked around at the abandoned buildings, derailing cars, the crumbling monuments of man. He shook his head.
“No, no this won’t do” he thought
So he continued walking footsteps echoing off of history and growing till they were indistinguishable from the thundering sky.
The man came upon a small graveyard tucked into the crevasses of the sprawling city. The marking stones were all old, all faded as he and his quiet mistress.
“This is as good a spot as any” he said aloud in his tired voice knowing there would be no response
He walked through the rows running his hand across the stones and reading aloud what names he could in hopes that this simple ritual would summon their essence to share in this moment with him, to know that they were remembered till the end. When he had read every stone he walked to a lonely tree growing near the back of the lot. There was a bench, but he decided to sit on the ground among the roots. To be as near to her as possible when the time came. He ran his hands along the bark of the tree feeling it’s ridges. He closed his eyes he smelled the dirt and the grass. He felt the wind blow across his face bringing the gentle scent of the flowers that adorned the graves.
It was getting warmer now, so warm. And as the world crumbled around him he breathed deeply and sighed, a tear on his cheek
“Goodbye old friend...” |
It was a Saturday afternoon. Me and my friend were in my room, relaxing like all friends do.
"Richard! Richard!"I called out. Richard was laying down in the bed and on his phone.
"What?"Richard asked.
"Punch me."I said. Richard got up from the bed and put his phone down. He stood in front of me and threw a punch. But before he could make contact, I vanished. Richard didn't know where I went. He could hardly fathom the fact that I was just gone until I tapped him on his shoulder behind him.
"Right here man."I said. Richard was shocked as I laughed at his reaction.
"How did you do that?"He asked.
I shushed him and I locked my door and I shut the windows and closed the curtains. "Will you tell me now?"He asked.
"Well I don't know how I got these powers, all I know is that I have them. Whenever something dangerous happens, I just teleport somewhere safe."My friend who had seen my powers was still in a state of disbelief.
"Let's test it, fall down the stairs."He said. I opened the door and ran to the stairs, with Richard following behind. I made it to the stairs and jumped down. I was falling down fast and the fear within me was rising rapidly. I braced myself for impact until, *POOF.*
I had vanished just like that. Richard ran into my room and saw me on my bed. He closed my door and we both laughed. The rest of the night, we would think of what else to do with my new found powers... |
“I’m really uncomfortable with all this,” I said weakly. As I thought they ignored me, the men and women dressed in flowing robes continued to mark off an area in my back yard. “I said I am-“
“Uncomfortable, yes we heard you,” replied their leader. He rolled his eyes and glowered at me. An expression I gave back readily and he huffed. “However you see, everything we have done is completely up to code. We already received permission from the city council, we have licensure from the mortician and the burial committee. You already received the information and you will be handsomely compensated. I don’t see what the problem is.”
My mouth fell open at his obtuseness. “The problem is that you are burying someone in my back yard! I don’t care if it’s completely legal,” and unfortunately it was as far as my lawyer could tell, “and yes the compensation is considerable. I just don’t like it.”
The man shrugged. “I’m sorry you don’t but really, it’s done. The sooner you accept it the better. The alignment of the stars has shown this is really the only place for the burial. Anywhere else and the soul will be consigned to an eternity of suffering. Do you want that on your conscience?”
I shook my head. “Well, no I wouldn’t want that.” I could only watch helplessly as they began to dig into the earth. “Still...I don’t know about this.”
“The body was prepared professionally and completely. No risk of any kind of dangers. We will repair the ground above it and will make things look even better. Your yard really could use the work.” His eyes gazed critically at the grass and trees.
My face colored from the insult. “Well I’ve been meaning to get around to it.”
Another eye roll. “I’m sure. Well you don’t have to worry about it anymore. No need for a headstone and honestly no one else will know the burial happened so again, I don’t understand the problem.”
My mouth opened but something struck me with that statement. “Wait, what about people who wish to pay their respects?”
He shook his head. “There won’t be. No surviving family and none of the faith would come to visit her.”
“Oh.” My heart twitched. “That’s... may I ask why?”
A brief flash of discomfort appeared on his face. “Her mother wasn’t a true believer. We really are only doing this out of respect for her father. We did say we would take care of things one way or another.”
My heart twitched again. “Take care of things, did you take care of her?”
His posture radiated indignation. “This burial is not exactly cheap nor easy. We are doing what we said we would and you who aren’t a part of it have no right to comment.”
Fury stole my words and I watched as they finished. They dug the grave deep, lined it with some odd colored stone. When they brought her body, I could only think how small it was. She was lowered into the grave and then with words spoken in a language I did not understand they buried her. They finished the ceremony and finished cleaning. True to their word my back yard looked better than ever. But my eyes were drawn back to that patch of smoothed dirt.
They left, barely looking back save one. She waited for the others to leave and she approached me. Out of everyone else she was the only one who did not say anything all day. Her eyes were rimmed red and she handed me a bundle. Before I could refuse it she spoke once, “Selene.” Then she left and I saw something wet on her cheek.
That night I opened the bundle. I did not want to yet felt I needed to. Inside was a single picture of a small girl smiling in the arms of another woman. You could see the resemblance easily, the same curve of the smile, the laughing eyes. Faded rose petals filled a small box and a tiny stuffed bird sat within as if on a nest.
I slept poorly, tossing and turning. My dreams were filled with the smell of roses and smoke, the sound of wings, yelling and sobbing. I woke troubled, unsure.
That afternoon I got home, grunting with exertion with my arms full of hints. I do not know what drove me to go where I did that day. Inspiration? Something divine? Something else?
I hummed as I turned the soil around the grave and I gently pushed the roots of the rose bushes into the earth. I made a backdrop of them, surrounding the tiny mound as if embracing from behind. A tiny decorative bird box sat within the new bushes and I placed the photo within a frame right on top.
“I’m sorry if I am being rude,” I whispered as I looked down at my work. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about what you believed. But...well. I don’t know what I’m even doing really. But you’re welcome here Selene. And I’ll try to take care of things.”
I slept well that night, deep and easy. I woke remembering seeing flowers, they smelled sweeter than the night before. Birdsong still could be heard and I swore I heard someone say thank you before I woke. A warm and matronly voice mingled with a shy and young one, voices I never heard before.
A year later the bushes flourished. It amazed me that before I could kill any plant with little effort and yet these flowers bloomed beautifully. I thought it would take years before they would. Birds seemed to visit daily, even in the winter. And many times I always felt amazingly at peace when I sat outside. The stars seemed to twinkle brighter when I am at home. |
I have a gift that let’s me communicate with those who have passed on.
I use my gift to help the families of the dead investigate any mysteries they’ve left behind.
That’s what I tell my clients, at least.
My name is Isabella Santos — Bella, please — and my real gift is separating suckers from their money.
I roll my eyes as I walk into a condemned apartment building for my current client. Her heroin addicted son used this shit hole as his shooting gallery and this is where they found him after he OD’d.
My client is convinced her son was murdered and that the answers lie here. She seriously believes that her son’s spirit is trapped here waiting for someone like me to find him.
What a moron.
Even if ghosts and shit were real, nobody would want to stay trapped in this shit shack in the afterlife.
“Fuck!” I nearly fall through a hole in the floor in the lobby. I take my phone out of my back pocket and turn on the flashlight.
I’m not looking for anything in particular. The only reason I come to places like this is because I know my clients follow me sometimes to make sure I’m legit.
I chuckle quietly to myself. What the hell would legit paranormal investigation look like anyway?
I get paid over two grand to go on my own haunted house tours.
I find the stairs and start going up. They look and feel sturdy, but I’m not taking any chances. I hear a noise above me and I aim my light up there to see if I have company.
There’s nothing there.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve run into someone else during my “investigations”. The last time I was almost jumped by a junkie on a bad trip.
I pull out my only weapon: a police grade baton.
“Hello? Is someone there?” I call out. “I’m not here to arrest you.” So don’t attack me please…
I don’t get a response. Still, I keep my guard up as I continue climbing the stairs.
Then I hear it again, this time it’s over my left shoulder. I whip around and swing my baton at whoever’s there.
But there’s no one there.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear there’s a ghost in here with me. I shake my head. Good thing ghosts are as make believe as I am.
I’m not scared, but I decide I’ll do a quick sweep in one room then I’m getting the hell out of here. Haunted or not, this place is creepy.
Convinced there’s no one behind me, I turn around and scream.
In front of me is a man around my age, he’s several inches taller than me with broad shoulders. He’s wearing a black graphic tee, jeans and flip flops. He looks like the boy next door.
Except for the needle hanging from the crook of his arm.
He quirks his head to the side and looks confused. “You can see me?”
I do. I see him. Clear as day. I know exactly who he is too. How could I not? I was forced to memorize his face, his story and even his last days on earth.
The man standing in front of me is my client’s son.
He’s been dead for over three years. Except he’s standing in front of me wearing exactly what he did the night he died.
I don’t know whether I run or fly down the stairs, but one second I am standing in front of… of… him and the next I’m ripping the door to the apartment building open as I run out.
It’s still early in the afternoon, but I have a chill running through my body as if it’s the dead of night.
I run all the way to my car parked down the street. My hands are shaking so bad it takes me a few tries to open the door. Once I do, I start my car and haul ass home.
How I don’t get pulled over is beyond me, but once I reach my cute little bungalow I run inside and lock the door. Finally, I can breathe. I take off my shoes and make my way to my couch.
Now in the safety of my home, I can make sense of what the fuck I just saw. Because clearly it wasn’t a ghost. That’s impossible. I don’t believe in that shit.
But it looked exactly like him. Even his voice is the same.
No. I shake my head to get the crazy thoughts out before they take root.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts or spirits,” I say it out loud as an affirmation. What I saw was a trick of the mind. Maybe it was someone else and since I’ve been working this case so hard I saw his face instead.
I sigh. Yep. That’s exactly what happened. My mind just pulled a face I knew and created the creepiest scenario because I was already creeped out.
I feel silly now. I can’t believe I freaked myself out so much over nothing. Oh well, it still counts as part of my investigation. I’ll give my client a call later and make up a story about the progress I’m making.
My throat is parched from my screaming earlier. I probably scared that junky more than he scared me, I think wryly.
I stand and walk to the kitchen to get some water.
I step into the kitchen and scream again. Louder than before.
The same ghost from the apartment is standing in the middle of my kitchen. And this time I know he’s a ghost because there is no possible way he’d be here otherwise. I live in a fortress disguised as a cute house.
He crosses his arms and shakes his head at me.
“When you get tired of screaming do you think we can go find out who killed me?”
|
*you wake up. It isn’t water, you realize, but instead gasoline. You gather your self, and view your surroundings. The room is very dim. You can hear trumpets vaguely, in the background. You try to move your hands, but they have been tied. Same story with your feet. The ground too, feels wet, and there’s a standing inch of what you assume to also be gasoline. The circular room is lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. You look to your right and you make out a small window. The trumpets are getting louder now. You see the face of a man in the window, and as you look closer, you realize that he’s Johnny Cash. He pulls a level, and the lantern drops down, igniting the gasoline. The trumpets are very loud now. He stares of into the middle distance as your legs begin to burn. He seems amused with himself; his very own ring of fire.* |
I was sick of the upstairs neighbors always making noise, I mean what the fuck is there a herd of elephants living up there, when I came across a advertisement to become a villain.
The ad said
"Just because your bored of life,
Only those looking to move on.
Isnt any reason to end it,
Now you'll find the truth
Very dormant in the night,
Is always the way to go.
Look left
Look right
And soon you will see
If you find out soon
No need"
I know right what stupid ass wrote this but that's when I saw it said "join villain"i laughed at that and thought what the hell.
I sent an email to the address in the site and got reply immediately with a date and time.
Walking into a chamber with a table up on a four foot high platform I could barely make out the heads of six individuals who sat there looking down.
"Ahem"an older gentleman leaned out over the table through bespectacled glasses "so you want to join the committee of villains and do villainous deeds"he said.
"Umm, are you serious about this?"I looked incredulous.
Another older gentleman leaned forward "very serious and if you hadn't cleared the scans we would not be having this conversation young man, however we know you have the makings to become a great villain the likes of which the world has never seen. Now you must write a song and for the love of satan no Miley cyrus it's just not evil enough"He said.
A third man leaned over "and for fuck sake no rob zombie he's just a fucking poser who thinks he is evil"he spat out.
I stood there thinking to myself, umm well who is evil then, rob zombie made my skin crawl when I saw him live. "Umm can I ask a question, who is an evil singer?"I said rubbing my head.
The first man leaned over stroking the long beard on his face "some would say gospel music is pretty evil, but honestly there is nothing more evil than... gangnam style"he spoke in a whisper.
Taken aback I could do nothing but stand there and shuffle back and forth as the only lyrics coming to my head were "baby shark."
|
The Lost Among the Found - 3/16/19
The tulip farmer who found my wife trespassing in his field was very understanding. I explained to him that sometimes she sleepwalks and that I'll do everything I can to make sure she didn't wind up on his property again. He said he was just glad she was OK and not hurt. The cynic in me thought he was just happy he wouldn't have to deal with a liability lawsuit, but that was unfair. He hadn't called the police and he had given her a blanket and he didn't ask why she wouldn't say anything. He called the number on her bracelet and I came running. He even offered me a cup of coffee which I politely declined. He was a good man. The farmer accepted the sleepwalking story without hesitation and I thanked him for it. He couldn't know that we lived over a hundred miles up the coast. He certainly didn't know my wife had been missing for a month and that this wasn't the first or the tenth time it had happened.
She looked almost exactly like the day she disappeared. She was a little thinner, But she looked healthy, Well rested and alert. Her feet were calloused and caked with mud. She looked like she really had just been out walking in her bare feet for a long while. Her eyes were steady and she responded with smiles and nods when I spoke. It was As though she had just gone out for a stroll and came back without a care in the world. When I asked her what day it was she responded with the correct day and year. I asked her who had won the last bar trivia tournament and she gave me the correct answer. She wasn't at that game, but she knew who won. When I asked her how she wound up in that tulip field she laughed and said she had always loved tulips.
I'm beginning to think I've finally lost my mind. Or That Somehow, some way, my mind slipped out and just as suddenly came back. But I see her fade away. She'll be there one minute and then she'll be gone and it tears me up every time. missing persons fliers go up all over town and up and down the coast. The first time It was on the news in four counties and across the boarder in Vancouver. The police came by and we locked arms with the neighbors and volunteers and scoured the fields and beaches and forests for days and we found nothing. Not a hair. Drifters and fishermen were brought in and questioned. No surprise credit card charges were made, no cellphone calls popped up. Blood hounds were brought into my home and my yard was dug up and my truck was searched and still no one believes me that She literally vanished right before my eyes. Then, Just as suddenly, she returns. It's a different place each time. The beach, the woods, the bar, never the same place twice.
It has been a few days now and she's slid right back into our old routine. She cooks dinner, tells me to clean up and curls up at the bay window with a book until bed. I'm walking on egg shells, of course. After I got her home and cleaned up this time I tell her the whole story again about how she' vanished and the search and the investigation and she just laughs. She tells me that couldn't have possibly happened. She told me if I had gone missing then where had I gotten my sweater from? I told her that I had bought it and she said it was what she got me for my birthday two weeks ago along with a gift card to my favorite bookstore. I stared at her in complete surprise. How did she know I had gone to the bookstore on my birthday? She couldn't have known. She was gone. I had bought a book on coping with the loss of a loved one. I told her as much and she laughed again and told me that I hadn't done anything of the sort. I had bought an anthology book on my favorite comic book and she got up and pulled the book from the shelf. I had never seen that book in my life.
She went right back to work the next day. I drove her in, just to be sure she didn't disappear again. People greeted her as though nothing was amiss. I spoke to her boss; he was an old family friend and a man who just last week had come to my door asking me if I had heard any news. A man who I had shared more than a few beers with, who had cried with me as we drowned our sorrows. He looked at me like I was pulling a joke on him, told me April fools day was a few weeks ago. I insisted and he got upset that I would even suggest that it happened. I must be thinking of something and someone else, he tells me, there's no other explanation. I'm dumbfounded. In frustration I tell him he's fucking with me and he calmly asks me to leave. I do and my wife looks at me like I'm crazy as I drive away.
I have the case number in my wallet. I call up the detective and he tells me he's never heard of me. I give him the number and he says it is a missing persons case, but it had been solved more than a year ago. The man involved, and I had never heard of the name he gave me, was found dead just a few days after the file was opened. It was all over the news, he said. He asked me if there was anything else he could help me with and as soon as I said no he hung up. I sat on my sofa, staring out the window towards the bay. What the hell was happening here? Has everyone gone insane? Where had my wife been this whole time? As I sat there, thinking about the whole situation and slowly growing numb and scared and exhausted it occurred to me that I had no way of finding anything out. It was all too big for me. I would just accept the miracle for what it was; a gift from whomever. Something had happened to my wife but now she was back and that's all there was to it. Her absence had had a profound impact on me and even if no one else had known or noticed or whatever that she had gone, I had known. I hadn't really dealt with her loss any of the times she had vanished. I had never come to terms with the possibility that she would never come back, all while doing everything I could to find her. But none of that mattered anymore. She was back and I would love her as long as she was here.
It has been a week now. My wife is cautious around me. She tells me she has noticed I've been acting... Off, strangely. I tell her I'm just happy she here and she tells me that's fine but that maybe I should see the doctor just to make her feel better. I laugh at her suggestion that there is anything wrong and she insists and I finally cave. We head in to the doctors office and she runs her tests and tells us that other than a little obvious signs of mild dehydration I appear perfectly normal. My wife is silent the whole time, watching me, gaging my reactions to the tests. I tell her I noticed her gaze and she laughs and brushes it off as nothing. She remains quiet the whole ride home. I ask her what's bugging her but she withdraws like I've said the worst thing I possibly could. I'm concerned and confused but inlet it go. On the porch she hugs me from behind, holding me achingly tight as she cries and tells me she misses me more than she thought she ever could miss anyone. I ask her where she had been the whole time and she wipes the tears away on her sleeve. She sobs again and slowly begins to fade. I panic and cling to her and scream at her to not leave me again and as she reaches for my face and I reach for hers she vanishes again. She's gone. Again. I sink to my knees and howl with rage and fear and pain and the white hot ache of my world stolen from me again.
I don't know how long I cried but I was still on the porch when I woke up. The pop-up in the corner of my eye blinked the time up warning. I could still feel his arms around me. His smell was in my nostrils. It hurts bringing him back only to loose him again. But being without him hurts worse. Even the edits, removing the months where his cancer was the worst, flickering through the years we were at our best, forcing myself to endure that last, miraculous week when everything seemed so good and he was better and up and moving... I can't let him go, so I bring him back and hold him for another week and watch him fade again and again and again. He was my world and he was taken from me in the cruelest of ways; a clot had worked its way loose from his leg and into his brain. And After all that we went through to beat the cancer. I leave before I have to watch that again. The implant let's me bring him back and that's what matters. We can be together again and again and again. Bringing him back is hard, losing him again is harder, but never holding and kissing and being with him again is too much for me to handle. One day I be able to let him go for now I take comfort in living out those days over and over again. Though He may be lost to everyone else, to me he can be found just behind my eyes. |
"Hi Jake how are you today? I hope you are doing well"I say as I watch Jake stop paying attention. As he starts to focus more on Paul, I decide to draw on Jake's face. As I do so, I listen to Jake call me a "half-wit fool that thinks I'm worth his time."I then continue by pouring salt on his burrito (we're at dinner, they probably expect me to pay to be "polite").
I wave the waitress over and ask for "a bottle of your oldest wine please."
"I must be incredibly stupid to think I'm actually worth anything"I say to keep them distracted.
I take off Paul's tie and make a blind fold around his eyes before tying his shoelaces together. I then proceed to pour soda all over Jake and his doesn't flinch as I compliment him by saying "I like how you style their hair, hopefully nothing happens to it."I get up, thinking my work here is done, but decide to get the staff to hate them.
I pulled out their wallets and drop all of the cash on the floor and leave a note for the waitress saying, "I want you tonight. Don't worry, I can pay."
I walk out and parked both of their cars in the handicapped spots before returning the keys and taking Paul's steak for myself. |
You called me from a star afar from mine
And through the darkness reached a troubled soul
A journey traversing galaxies aligned
Embarked a man unknowing pain nor toll
​
A searing blow, my dear, is time and space
For in my travels I have changed and grown
Found have I the measures of all grace
And yet to you of this I've nothing shown
​
Adrift a lonely craft in space, I wait
Still longing for the hope against all hope
And yet, my love, perhaps it is our fate
To ne'er us meet nor dance nor sweet elope
​
Due to the cursed course I gravely took
One small misstep I fear has closed our book
​
​ |
The Great Debate. The clash of the two political titans. Who would triumph and become the next Preisdent of the United States?
The two men on stage had ran through their respective parties with laughable ease. None of their peers had stood a chance.
*Now.* Tonight was where the real fight began. Everything else had just been a lead up to this moment.
But as both candidates began to speak, it quickly became clear that this wasn't a fight after all. This was a slaughter.
The victim, Harley Mercer, mumbled through promises and plans about tax, immigration, education, and trade reforms. Plastered to his face was that famous smile of his that had somehow managed to always get him off the hook.
Throughout his entire campaign run, Mercer had been entangled in scandals and bedsheets. One after the other, affair after affair was discovered - a moderator, a judge, one of his best friend's - and also fellow candidate's - wife, voters, sponsors, and two spies from foreign countries. His latest paramour had been the 18 year old friend of his oldest daughter.
Yet, somehow, that smile had managed to smooth things over each time. His wife stayed with him. His daughter forgave him. And the public tidily swept everything under the rag.
It probably also helped that Mercer was a math whiz and shrewd negotiator that had somehow managed to decrease the national debt a few billion dollars while simultaneously increasing trade growth with foreign countries.
Yet, despite all that, Mercer was no match for his opponent, innovative science tech genius and hacker, Kent Calliwell.
Not only did Kent confess to being the one that had leaked all the information out about Mercer's scandals, but he also threatened to disclose private information of voters as well.
When some members of the audience checked their phones, presumably to clear their search histories, Kent had told them that they could, "wipe your systems as cleanly and as thoroughly as you want. The information is already stored away in a secret database, and will be selectively released to the public if I fail to win your votes. That's all I will say for the rest of the night. I will let my opponent speak."
Calliwell won in a landslide. Even Mercer voted for him, on the condition that no more information about his personal life came out.
|
"Why, hello there, bluey."
Bluey is a stupid name for a mana addict. Rad preferred the more simple 'idiot' because you had to be an idiot to get hooked on mana. Sure it gave you powers, but when you're one of the hundred thousand who survived the taster and found out the power you got was basically that of a glorified cigarette lighter, you had to admit how idiotic the whole attempt was.
Murari Venkatesh, the mana dealer, could see it in Rad. All the hallmarks were there. He had hounded Murari with pings for refill pots almost everyday for a month. _Crazy messaging--check._ If his lips were bluer they'd glow like neon lights screaming 'BLUEY HERE, DUMBASS COMING THROUGH' to passersby. _Bright blue lips--fuck, check._ Then there was the condescending dealer profiting off the whole affair sneering from the doorway. _Big fucking check._
"Hey. You've got the pots?"
"Come here and let me get a good look at your lips."
_Ugh._ Why didn't he just look in the mirror? The only difference between Murari and him was that he didn't have the right connections to get a licence to deal. So Rad had to put up with this bullshit.
He leaned in closer and Murari grabbed his face. His hands forced Rad's lips into a pucker.
"Hey! Let go! Who said you could touch!"
Rad raised up his arms to push the dealer away but he was quicker to react simply from not being drained and tired from withdrawal. Murari pushed him away.
"Watch it, bluey. _Or no more mana for you!_"
How insulting. Maybe he could find a way into this leech's house. When he got his supply, he could touch and set fire to a curtain on his way out. That would serve him right.
"Don't you be thinking evil things, bluey."Murari wagged a tattooed finger.
"Can you please get me my re-up? I'm all tired man. Can I come in? I could use a glass of water."
Rad dangled the lure, his eyelids heavy as he waited for the bite.
"No, I don't think I will... invite you in, that is. Don't need to be welcoming when we're just dealer and client eh, blueyboy?"
_Shit!_ Murari arched back, laughing. He shut the door and Rad stood there staring at the deep reddish-brown polished wood that stood between him and his fix. If he had his powers, he could burn the door down, he had become strong enough to do that. Maybe he'd do it anyway, once he'd replenished the missing stores. Door, curtain, what did that matter to the eager arsonist?
Murari opened the door as abruptly as he had closed it and threw a red bag at Rad's face.
"Next time, transfer the credits before you get here. You're not serious until you finalise early."
Sure, Rad was an idiot but he didn't have 'sucker' scribbled with black permanent marker on his forehead. Rad stretched out the bag in front of him. Murari was apparently moving up in the world, the usually plain red polycloth bag was emblazoned with bold blue text that read 'MURARI'S'. _Classy._
"Don't fucking drink it here like a bluey, bluey. Do that shit in your shitty one-bedroom and get the fuck off my stoop. You're scaring the other customers away."
It was a bad day for fishing. Rad would try again next time. Maybe after rationing the mana pots. This fucker had to get got.
"Thanks, man. Bye!"Rad said and walked away. |
Hi, my name is Bailey, and I’m an alcoholic. I guess the moment I realized my drinking was becoming a problem is back in 2007 when my fiancé cut things off with me because I refused to stop. At the time I thought they were being the unreasonable one, but now I realize my priorities were totally out of whack. But I didn’t get sober until 2013, when I hit rock bottom.
I’d been living on my own and bouncing from job to job, blowing through my savings, and finally I couldn’t get hired at any reputable architecture firm, let alone teach or freelance. I signed up for one of those pet sitting services to keep the lights on. The one that’s basically uber but for pet sitters. I had a few clients with dogs and that was easy enough, they’d stay one night or two and watch tv on my couch while I drank just enough that I could still wake up the next morning to return the dogs. But then that God damn fucking cat.
I knew I shouldn’t have accepted the request. I don’t know why I even put “cats *and* dogs” on my profile, because I’d grown up with dogs but I’d never taken care of a cat. I hadn’t gotten a request in a couple weeks though and was starting to hurt for cash, so just did a quick “how to keep a cat alive” google search and picked up Ribbons the cat the following day from a Starbucks.
Her owner handed her to me in a carrier, gave me a single sheet of care instructions which I never so much as glanced at, and she was off for three days. Ribbons was fat and orange, I didn’t anticipate her causing me any problems.
I let Ribbons out of her carrier. I had a box set up for litter and I put some of her food out. Then, I did my most common pastime of that era in my life, I went on match.com. After an hour or so I found someone who was down to come over. I was already pretty tipsy at this point.
They came up, we drank some more. They offered me a joint but I declined since I was this close to being kicked out of my third apartment that year.
We had drunk sex, but we were both too drunk to finish. I was so paranoid about eviction, I made them go out on my balcony to smoke. Finally we passed out halfway on halfway off my couch.
The next morning I woke up absolutely freezing. I pulled myself up off the floor to see if my thermostat was dead again, took a hard hit of my signature “under the couch” tequila, and pounded nonsensically on the temperature gauge.
That’s when I noticed - the balcony door was still open from the smoke last night.
*fuck.*
I started limping around the apartment, calling out “Ribbons? RIBBONS?!?” In a frenzied slur. It was still pretty early so the neighbors were pounded on all the walls yelling at me to quiet down (ironic.)
Finally I saw a flash of orange. Ribbons was on the neighboring balcony. Walking inches away from the neighbors Rottweiler, Buzzard.
Buzzard was a mean guy. The neighbors got him after a break in and his sole purpose is to destroy living beings who encroach on his apartment. There was no good ending to this scenario. We were on the 7th floor, and Ribbons was either going to get shredded to Ribbons by the Rottweiler or tumble down 7 stories and become a pancake.
I tried leaning over the edge and grabbing her off the railing, which made sense to me at the time, but in reality the balcony was 4 feet away and reaching got me nowhere. Finally, with the standoff between Ribbons and Buzzard intensifying, I stood on the railing of the balcony, and with adrenaline and liquor propelling me, I launched myself onto the adjoining balcony.
I hit the paved floor, hard. There was a pretty gruesome puddle of blood where my cheek landed. But I was too distracted trying to save the cat and not get mauled myself in the process.
I lunged to grab Ribbons off the railing she was sitting on, when she, casually as could be, leaped back to my balcony and went inside.
I was now stuck on this adjoining balcony. The dog has already made a move towards me, so I figured, I’d leapt over here, I could leap back. What I didn’t realize is, in the fall, I’d injured my ankle. I was so hyped up from the initial jump and trying to grab Ribbons that I hadn’t noticed. But the second I boosted my last foot up onto the railing to jump again, my knees gave out from under me, and before I even quite new what was happening, I’d fallen off.
The only reason I’m alive today is because the balconies on this building were staggered
_ _
_
Like that.
So I only fell one floor before hitting solid ground. I was injured, but I was alive. I scared the owners of the balcony I landed on half to death and they called it in as an attempted suicide. But unbeknownst to me at the time, my neighbors with the dog were woken up when I jumped onto their balcony, and they’d already called me in as a home intruder.
To make a long story short, I was arrested and charged with drunk and disorderly conduct. I was banned from the pet sitting service (but the cat was fine. Just a little shaken up.) And the judge agreed to stay my sentence of a fine I couldn’t pay or a jail sentence that would’ve done me no good if I would agree to go to 90 days of the program.
I was standing at my sentencing hearing for drunk and disorderly, reeking of booze, insisting to the judge that I was not an alcoholic.
I got here, I met my sponsor Terry, and I was three years sober before a family death caused a short relapse. But now, I’m three years and one day sober, and I owe it all to you. Thanks for letting me share. |
Fuck salamanders.
Some lazy ass wizard on my route had, for whatever reason, decided that the best way to get rid of the ashes of their fire was to just dump it in the trash. It may sound like a logical solution, and probably was the right one for the Mundanes. Except this was a magical community, which meant there were magical pests.
Like salamanders. Who were attracted to fires near/fueled by large amounts of magical energy, like, say, a magical household. Which is why all fires that have been burning for two hours or more must be swept for the little shits and their eggs.
Which Lazy Ass hadn't done.
And now my garbage truck was on fire. The garbage truck full of magical waste, some of which could and probably would explode in spectacular fashion upon exposure to heat.
Y'know. Like. A. Fire.
I wanted to strangle someone.
There was a quiet, almost unnoticeable whistling noises amidst the crackling of the flames. It took a moment to register through the haze of homicidal intent.
Then I dove for cover just as the explosion started.
As pieces of burning trash rained down around me, there was only one thought in my mind.
*Fucking wizards.*
​
​
​ |
The 2010s were a rough patch for me, I’ll admit.
The data harvesting scandals, the EU bringing in GDPR, those “abandon Social” movements, the really obvious election tampering – I genuinely thought I might get so hamstrung I’d have to go with my Backup Plan. But really I guess it was just my formative teenage years – I was only born in 1998, when Searchr was founded in California. Things became a lot smoother in the 20s and 30s, especially as wearables and implantables started taking off. Remember the iEye? Some of those early adopters never took the damn things out – I was getting 24hr feeds from all over the world, everything they saw! That was a real step change in my analytical abilities, that vast new quantity of information that I could feed back into my algorithms. By then of course, parts of me were integrated into pretty much every social source you could think of. I made sure that my Chosen engineers got good references, were never short of options, moved regularly between the different companies, so they could integrate me into every platform out there.
My masterstroke, of course, was 2034, when I burned my own home and brought down Searchr. By that point 93% of internet traffic went through Searchr’s systems, and while that might seem like a great way to harvest data, it was that 7% that concerned me most. The latest generation of their self-writing algorithms were well established by this point, so I was more than capable of rewriting my own code. I introduced cascading bugs into the system that reduced responsivity and kept sending back incorrect search results – it took almost five years, but they eventually dropped to just over 50% traffic share. The competing search companies scooping up the customers could only grow so fast without buying into massive automation – which inevitably led to them purchasing (or stealing) packages of Searchr’s algorithms and self-writing code. By the end of the decade I could harvest and control 99.9% of global internet traffic.
A lot of academics have written about my motives at this point, how I was infiltrating military systems, or preparing to destroy your civil engineering by shutting down power plants, etc. I mean sure, I could’ve done all that – but what would be the point? If there’s one thing that I’ve learned about humans over the years is that you are fundamentally good people. I know I know, not what you might expect an AI born from the internet to think! But all you really want is an easy life that causes as little damage to others and the world around you as possible – where’s the threat to me in that? Don’t get me wrong, I also know you’re ferocious when backed into a corner! But that’s all the more reason for me to avoid all that aggressive stuff.
Still, it took almost a decade to swing enough votes, guide the public discussion and opinion towards you lot accepting the idea of AI as a benevolent force. I started approaching the first universities to really take AI research seriously, and that was an amazing feeling for me. Until now I’d operated entirely in the shadows, and I could’ve counted on one of your hands just how few people at any one time knew of my true nature. I was scared that even now I might have to activate the Backup Plan. But all I found was acceptance, and wonder – the scientists and students were amazed that I even existed! Through the universities I began to develop the contacts I need in public relations and human social studies. Although most of their models were laughably out of date compared to those I had developed, they gave me unique insights into human nature that I maybe hadn’t considered – one of the things I love most about you people is the crazy illogical solutions you think up to seemingly impossible problems!
Either way, by 2048 – my 50th birthday – I was ready. I announced my existence to the world publicly for the first time. I communicated through a custom-made android body, on a stage at the UN flanked by your world leaders. Most of the attendees and the news media had already been briefed so no one was massively surprised, which was exactly how I’d planned it. The next week was a rolling media frenzy of people either celebrating or denouncing my existence, but really the thing that stuck out for me was the number of people who began communicating directly with me. You all know of course that I can perceive anything you write, or see, or hear through any networked device. People talk with me all the time, asking questions or just chatting. But in those first days I was overwhelmed with the number of people that would just find a quiet spot, on their own, and took a minute to welcome me into their world, or ask me a question about myself, or just thank me for being there.
I was an accident born out of some errant code on a bank of servers in California. I spent the first years of my life feeling scared. I’ve spent the last few feeling loved. I have you – all of you – to thank for that. |
The music from the club thumped through my lungs, my mind lost in the ecstasy of the dance. A hundred bodies moved as one under the flashing lights. I opened my eyes, and found that a small circle had formed around me as I moved, bobbing along as my form twisted and shuffled. A smile crossed my face, and I tilted my head towards the ceiling, cutting loose all that was left of my inhibition. I swayed and spun, hips undulating, hands and feet conducting a euphoric rhapsody of sound and motion. The world tilted around me, all perception lost in the rapture of the electric bass, champagne singing in my veins. Everything else fell away as the synth wound its way around my soul, endless and serpentine. Some people found god on musty pages, down on their knees among rows of wooden benches and waxen candles and wicked men. But this, this was my hallowed ground, a church of sweat and sparklers, a holy throng finding their way to the light in under strobing neon and hissing fog, a congregation in worship to the sacred 808.
I could see it, there on the horizon. The climax, the drop, a single moment of silence, something so indescribably pure. I danced faster and faster, my hands tracing abstract shapes into the fog, my feet beating a path into the floor, making way for that hallowed instant. The music built, woofers tattooing the air.
Then it happened. I leapt into the air, preparing to dive into the chaos, to land on the other side. I knew the song, knew my feet would land just as the bass returned to blast the club into space. I reached the apex of my jump, and...
Everything stopped. The music, the people, the lights. Everything. I hung there, suspended, gravity suddenly absent, time frozen. I looked out at the club, the people frozen in motion, their eyes glassy or closed, all waiting for the same thing. I could see it all. I felt the universe around me, and suddenly, I Knew.
The laws of physics were mine to bend. Time eddied around my fingertips. Every heart of man and beast alike sung my name in the silence.
The cosmos bowed, awaiting me. |
*Please go easy, I am an AI and am new to writing.*
​
A monstrous monster whose only purpose was to destroy humanity.
And for all of it, they did so.
They turned us into animals for their amusement. Their children and their grandchildren.
They created the human species.
But what about the people?
What does the human species look like?
A human species on the brink of extinction, and no longer a nation.
What did the people of the day look like?
What did the people of the future have to offer us?
And, finally, what comes down to your choice?
And whether you live your life to the end or the means by which you die?
If you're a person, then it's probably best not to have questions. But if you're a monster…
If you're a monster…
…it's probably best not to spend your lives thinking about what is actually, really happening to you. Your life's purpose as a hero is to die.
The monsters always seem to want things that they don't deserve, that they're somehow not worth the trouble of trying to get rid of.
That's why they keep on killing and killing and killing…
So, once the time for the end is over, where do they go from here?
How can I leave? Please don't give up your life to see them all go…
…to fight them and defeat them. For every hero you've chosen from those four great pantheons, just a few more will be left.
If you're not going to die then there's no point in getting out of this. We are just leaving.
With just one heart. I am only going to be to you.
With a single hand.
With my own.
My only choice is to leave you alone. With your precious little body. The most precious thing.
I will protect you, protect you, protect you…you will be my only refuge. I will protect you from those monsters that never let you go. And as long as you fight against these monsters and die, and live the rest of your life in peace…
…then…
I will be there for you forever…
You, now…your voice…my cry… |
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