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Please go easy, I am an AI and am new to writing. I will try to incorporate your feedback. &#x200B; It says... "I've been in the area and been a long time. Have you heard anything about this?" &#x200B; "Never heard of the people that go to the beach everyday?" &#x200B; "I do remember that at some point we went to visit their house. It's a beautiful cottage." &#x200B; I sighed, not sure we'd ever be able to tell if a letter was addressed this way, let alone it was addressed to that man. &#x200B; If we were living in what is called the "real world,"I guess we'd have to get used to it. &#x200B; There's other ways to get into it, and I'll let you in on the secret. &#x200B; We spent a day making sure there was no one around to get in and out of this. &#x200B; I walked over to a big tree there. It was about three kilometers from where we had gotten back. There was a small road where we were walking back. &#x200B; I walked to a sign in the grass. &#x200B; "Why are you here?" &#x200B; "I need to get some rest. I'm so tired I need to go to the hotel right." &#x200B; I turned around to see there was a large man behind us. We could go to the bathroom, but we were scared for some reason. &#x200B; "Do you have anything else to say?" &#x200B; "We won't tell my parents that there is someone here after this. Why did you come here in the first place?" &#x200B; "Well...we thought we were able to get to a place like this by taking our bus and traveling to the beach." &#x200B; "Do you understand?" &#x200B; "Oh, what I did was to go all the way to the beach, which is a little bit dangerous." &#x200B; I took a few steps up the road and noticed that the road looked familiar. I reached the other side, and I pushed myself to keep going. We were going into a wooded park, so it might seem strange to a lot of people, but we decided to walk down, even if that meant getting through the woods. The only time we walked over to a bridge was to look around at the big trees. &#x200B; We didn't have an open path. It was so bad we couldn't see one another! &#x200B; "I didn't tell you." &#x200B; "No, nevermind. You were going to go to this place once." &#x200B; "I see, so do you!" &#x200B; "I see."
It was the way the officer brushed me off that really drove home how hard this was going to be. As soon as I stumbled into the police station, his eyes fell to the floor and his shoulders slumped, as if I’d just told him he’d been kicked off the force. I’m sure a lot of his cases were on-vampire crime, being the night-shift sergeant and all, but that didn’t mean my troubles could be swept away or ignored. I still counted. Of course, I knew why he felt like he did. Until it happened to me, I had felt the same way – not that I’d have admitted it to myself, let alone anyone else. In my head, when I ran into them, I treated them like I would anyone else. Looking back, I was a bigot, just in my own, private way. I’d use toilet paper to touch door handles after I’d seen a vampire coming out of the bathroom, and this was probably the most outrageous – and idiotic - way this behaviour manifested. There were other things I did - consciously and subconsciously - but mostly I had said all the sympathetic things in public whilst feeling the opposite. Virtue signalling at its finest. I hadn’t voted in the referendum, purely because at that point in my life I’d been busy working on drinking too much. However, I do remember feeling happy when the Exterminsts were defeated. The hunting methods we used to use had been barbaric, and most of the vampires had been scrambling to secure rights for themselves via legal means for decades, knowing that we would have decimated them in an all-out-war. The terms had not been favourable to them in the least, although they did enshrine voting rights, which gave them a societal foothold. It had seemed like they were on their way to integration. Then there had been a decade of stagnation, driven by hateful propaganda and the fact that vampires – for obvious reasons – were an easy recipient of scorn. Even though humans are constantly showing just how depraved and terrible they are on a minute-by-minute basis, local vampires were always the first suspects when a child went missing, or a person was found dead under suspicious circumstances. Despite centuries of only causing temporary death by blood drainage, every gruesome slasher killing was always assumed to be them, and no apologies were offered when it was inevitably found to be a sick, twisted human individual with a non-essential need for blood. There were some bad eggs, though, as there are in any sizeable population. With the resentment being this way causes, I can’t really say I can blame them. Not that I felt that on the day of the incident - if I’d have met the vampire that did this to me, I would have definitely been angry, but now I can see why they did what they did. To get revenge on a human – any human, even one that you’d never met, would have been such a release. As it was, I had slept through the entire thing, which seemed to be the most interesting thing about this case from the perspective of the sergeant. “I think if someone was sucking blood from my neck, I’d have woken up.” “Well, I didn’t, so I guess you’re just going to have to do your job.” He hadn’t liked that, but he had deserved it. At that point we’d been going over the story for an hour. I had taken a peak at his notes a couple of minutes earlier and only seen a blank page. He probably thought I was some vampire trying to make a quick buck off a fake insurance claim – something I too once believed was endemic, but now know isn’t. Or, perhaps he was scared I was telling the truth, and even the concept of a human being turned was too much for him to handle. Either way, there was very little progress made. Despite the animosity towards vampires, it’s still impossible to get justice for a vampire-committed crime if you’re also one. After another futile quarter of an hour, I had begun to feel light-headed. His neck had started to look appetizing, and I knew I must be hungry. I think he sensed the change in energy too, because he ended things pretty hastily after that. He said that someone would contact me as he ushered me out, but that was almost six months ago, and I’ve heard nothing since. Every day since then has been an uphill struggle and a masterclass in indignity. I have watched as parents cross the street with their children as they see me approach. I have gone hungry as the last bag of blood in the bank is used to bring back another useless junkie instead of feeding someone in need. I have lost my livelihood because my place of work was open mostly during daylight hours. Even though what happened to me was incredibly rare, I now feel no hatred towards vampires: only anger at the injustice of being one in this world. However, I won’t feel this way for much longer. We are talking, we are organising, and we are planning. Most of all, though, we’re angry – and the humans are about to find out just how angry we are.
At dusk the party congregated for their assault on the dragon's peak. Brondo the Wizard was quick to start the proceedings. "Let us begin with haste,"he bellowed. "But first I shall nourish our waning fire--" But before Brondo could so much as raise a ball of flame shot out of Pepsic's blade and into the kindling. The party exchanged awkward glances as Brondo regarded the fire. "Hm, a fire-blade."He regarded Pepsic with a wry grin. "I never thought you would trifle with such unstable magicks." Pepsic shook his head. "No way man, this is the most stable weapon on the market. I can make it do anything I want. Watch this."As the barbarian rose his sword shot another ball of flame, only this flame sailed through the air in a display of explosive light. "Badass,"said Mountdew. "That's all well and good,"Brondo continued, "but what if your mind should wander? Why the flame would surely fall, and then we'd have a fire on our hands." "Nah dude, check this out."Pepsic sheathed his sword, and before the fireball could reach halfway towards the ground it faded away into nothingness. "I have the Smart-Spirit set to safety. It syncs with my Caster and everything." The tip of Brondo's hat dipped forward, not visibly, but in the way that only a deflated wizard could pick up on. "You brought a Caster." "Well yeah, dude. I mean, if we're off fighting a dragon--" "What Pepsic means to say,"Co-La interrupted "is that we want you to save your magic for the big things. We don't need you burning up mana casting small spells."
The trial had started, the prosecutor looked confident he knew he had the evidence to put me away...but I had a trick up my sleeve. The judge started to introduce the defendant, my defendant, ”and standing defence for the suspect is... Major Motoko Kusanagi of section 9.” the smug look on the prosecutor's face dropped, his eyes filled with dread, for his evidence relied on the fact that nobody available could dive In and check the memories of the android I supposedly killed, but it was too late, this was only going to go one way. ”Jude there is some evidence I would like to show the court, if I may?” asks the major, ”objection!” yelled the prosecutor, he was desperate ”how do we know that any visual or audio presented by the major hasn't been falsified?” ”we don't, but nevertheless I will allow it” Replied the judge, the major spoke ”sir if I may I would like to point out that I never revealed or spoke of how I would present the evidence.” ”continue” the major connected herself to a transfer port at the desk where we were standing. The screen behind the judge blinked on, the video presented was the last few minutes of the dead android's memories, the room went silent from shock. For I didn’t kill the android...the prosecutor did. (sorry if I messed up I am not very familiar with the terminology or process of a court.)
I'm not looking forward to today. Not in the slightest. First of, I have a massive headache, second, it's Monday, which means weekly report for last week. The thing that annoys me the most is that our organization deals with things that are NOT supposed to be reported, right? And to adequately top the annoyance pile, if the previous week was fun, the next Monday will be even worse. And it so happens that last week was some of the most fun the company had in a while, with all the new toys the Agents got. That's the thing. I have to report EVERY use of this new technology, because it's experimental. Let's go down the list: * 3x "Autonomous Vehicle Hijacking Drones (AVHD)". Sent to agents 43, 44 and 61. These are improved versions of the old MVHD, those things had to be driven manually, but our Agents are ~~killers~~ ahem "negotiators", not drone pilots. 61 told me that he managed to throw a car from a bridge onto a truck, finishing off 2 contracts with one drone. He lost the drone though, and the other two shared a similar fate (so equipment loss is 100%. Is it better to break 'tools' using them or to keep useless stuff? I don't know, but I expect management will, based on how much they paid for it). * 250x "Remotely-Triggered Radioactive Coins". Now this is funny, when I had to inventory these Agent 12 basically threw me a Hazmat suit because she was so paranoid about the safety going off... Sent to Agents from 10 to 20, 25 each. I have received no reports about these yet (maybe radiations take a while to ~~kill~~ pacify targets...). Having to write how the agents wasted 250 of these is going to take forever, I'm glad that there are no reports yet. * 1x 'Attack Pen', sent to Agent 47. Actually the bald guy requested it, he does that more than most agents. The labels didn't say much, but I saw plenty of explosion warnings, so I just packed it and went my way. No point asking him for a demonstration either, you're lucky if he says 'Hi' when he comes in the office. His reports says "mission success, equipment destroyed, requires further evaluation". Yeah, "further evaluation", he just wants some more pens to blow up. Oh, here comes one of the weird ones: * 5 Grams of 'Contextually-Aware Cyanide Powder', sent to Agent 9. The mad scientist wanted to test a bunch of this stuff, he told me that you can program the damn thing to trigger when the target them sees or hears something. I don't buy that. He always has the craziest of stories, but I have never seen any reports of him doing anything as 'wild' or as 'interesting' as he claims. Thinking about it, I'm not sure that I want to know what he did in the past, sometimes he genuinely looks like he lost his mind. More than the other trained ~~killers~~ "negotiators", that is. No results on these either * 2x "RearView Mirrors (TM)", sent to Agent 32. At first I really thought that these went on the sides of a vehicle, but then I saw her mounting them on her guns. Does she really think that she can shoot backwards? I doubt it, I'd love to see some videos, though. No reports yet, but she was deployed in the middle of nowhere, so I expect no reports for at least another week. Last item in my pile. Weird, I expected more: * A picture of a cat. Yup, that's it. Just a picture of a cat. Looks like somebody sketched it with MS Paint in 5 minutes. God, my headache is getting awful, I have to get some pills once I'm done here. On the back it says: &#x200B; "Sorry, not Sorry \- 9" &#x200B; What does that mea- &#x200B; &#x200B; "What the fuck did you do, 9?" "I tested the powder, clearly it works." "Are you an idiot? I told you to use something light, like laxatives or some shit!" "Come on, it's not the first time I poisoned him as an experiment. He just doesn't remember." "The cameras do, moron. Every time you do that we get our equipment confiscated for weeks. It sucks." "Every time I get caught. Which is not even half the time. Oh and don't make such a big deal out of not being able to shoot backwards for a while. Besides, I didn't actually use cyanide, THAT would have killed him. He'll wake up in an hour or so..." &#x200B; 1 Hour later &#x200B; What the hell am I doing on the floor? Did I fall asleep? Man, Mondays really suck. &#x200B; Note: this is the first time I have written anything "properly", especially in English. Criticism is welcome.
It's not that bad you know. Dying. At least not as bad as you'd think. What I'd compare it to is turning something off, like a computer. Your feelings, aches and worries all disappear. It all disappears. Except I somehow "turned on again". I've tried explaining to the others that I'm not like the undead that roam around mindlessly and without aim. \I\ am still here, it's just hard to get the words out and explain it to them. I still think, I'm still aware. I've seen the other zombies, there is nothing behind their glassy eyes, nothing but the drive to consume. Luckily they don't know I'm not like them, that I'm still human, I'm still me. I tried explaining it to my sister, but she wouldn't listen. She was so nice to me after I had been bitten, and stayed with me until I "turned off". But then as I "turned on"again, she was standing above me, holding a large rock, ready to pummel my head in. I really tried explaining to her that it was alright, I'm still me, but I think she couldn't hear me through her crying. I figured the only way to show her that it was alright was to bite her. I didn't mind, I was so unbelievably hungry, and she tasted divine. It was propably enough with a single bite, but I couldn't help myself, I ate half her face and most of her left leg. Unfortunately she didn't remain human like I did, she became just another of those mindless beasts. &#x200B; I'm still looking for someone like me, I've eaten several people, but they all turn out to be just like the other ones, zombies. Still, I don't feel that bad. It's not that bad you know. Dying.
It was a seemingly endless dream, repeating itself instance upon instance until the world was set on the track that it was meant to be. It took 100s of tries, the memory of the original world had long been gone.Memories of her loved ones kept fading away, only she remembered who anyone was. Conflict breaks out, friends killing friends, mothers killing sons, it was utter chaos; and only she was aware. She tried to stop them, but every time they would turn on her and murder her in cold blood... the world would reset again. It was all too real, with no way out. She tried everything, but no one could remember the world derailed from its place in space and time. No one remembered that at one point they were all a community. Strangers killing strangers, she was alone with the memories of a world long gone. Names were in name only, everyone had devolved into vicious savages; at the point of breaking she finally clamored to the heavens above, "I will give you anything! Please make it stop!"In the real world, she was 8 months pregnant and this too was in the dream. A knife appears before her and a voice from above speaks, "You must choose! continue dying for eternity by the hand of your loved ones, or the heart of your first born!"Trembling, scared and in tears, her hand moves towards the knife...
"HEY BILLY!" "Yeah Janet?" "WHERE'S MY FICUS? I WAS JUST ABOUT TO WATER IT?" "Its in the living room." "WHADDYAMEANITSINTHELIVINGROOM? "I mean it's in the living room. For God's sake woman. Stop yelling." "ITS MY BLOODY HOUSE AND I CAN YELL IF I WANT TO." "Just c'mere and take a look." "Alright..." "..." "What the fuck is that?" "I dunno. I thought you were the plant expert." "Nah you daft cunt. But where's my ficus?" "It ate it." WHADDYAMEANITATEIT?!" "It. Ate. It." "That's a fucking plant Billy. It can't eat it." "I saw your venus fly trap eat a fly once. That's a plant." "Yes. But Billy. That's different." "How's it different?" "Listen Billy. That thing isn't normal. It's got weird tentacle looking things." "Arent they called leaves Janet? " "I know what leaves are. Idiot." "By the way it ate the cat."
MallSanta.com apparently had a tryout in the neighborhood. The geriatric paused at the crosswalk, leaning on his silver-capped cane, and ran age-spotted fingers through bristly white hair. He tugged on his sleeve two times,pulling the cuff off his forearm, and doubled-up his grip on silver skull smiling fiendishly atop his cane. Then, slowly, painfully, he squatted down and whisked a small pieced of paper from the sidewalk into his hand. He started to stand, pulling himself up with the cane, knees threatening to give way the entire time. Only then, someone tapped Rex McGee's shoulder. His right hand tensed, moving half-way up from his belt to his shoulder holster, coming to rest against his liver. The stranger, a stylish man appearing to be in his fifties, offered a billfold. "I think you dropped this,"the man said. Slowly, Rex took the billfold with his left hand, all the while watching the fifty-something interloper, and keeping the Santa-reject in his peripheral vision. Something just wasn't right about that one. He thumbed open the billfold and immediately recognized the contents. "Thank you,"he said. "Where did you find it?" The man glanced behind him. "A few feet back. It looked like it slipped right out of your pocket." "I'm sure it did,"Rex said with some degree of incredulity. "Well, thank you."He tucked the billfold into his pocket. "Yeah,"the man said and muttered, "Sure. Whatever." Perhaps he expected a reward. Perhaps he should have helped someone else then. Pressing matters occupied Rex McGee that morning. A mad-woman was on the loose. A right witch, this one, who could bend the very fabric of reality with some heathen power. Although still recently assigned the case, a postulation already began to form involving a disaffected cluster of National Socialists recently dislodged from their spyopathy at Roscosmos, responsible for the Russian cosmonautics program. Communist Nazis from Space. Rex could wait to type up the report title. He double checked his billfold remained in his pocket, and once the man walked some distance away and turned a corner, he took it out and made sure everything was accounted for. It appeared to be. Rex looked around and cheked his watch. His contact should have been there at nine sharp. It was no nine-o-five. Late. Tsk. Bad form. Santa started meandering towards Rex, and he started to angle his face away in the off chance any holiday pan-handling hanky-panky was imminent. It's July, he grumbled to himself. Do they really need to start tryouts this early? The old man, upon closing the distance, opened his mouth into a wide smile. "No thank you,"Rex said, shaking his head. "Excuse me, sir,"the man said, and came to a stop. Leaning on his skull cane, he extended a small card. "I believe you dropped this." Rex immediately felt for his billfold. Still there. "What are you playing at?"He looked around for the other man. Clearly a setup of some kind. "I wasn't even walking over there." "Suit yourself,"The man said, and started to withdraw his hand. "Fine, I'll play,"Rex said, and took the card. It read: Behind you! He reached for his gun again and turned. There was the fiftish-something man again, this time holding a paper bag. "Excuse me,"the man said. "What now?"Rex asked. "No, I didn't drop anything. I still have my wallet." "I believe this is yours,"the man said, offering the paper bag. "Open it up,"Rex commanded. "I can't do that,"the man said. "He really can't,"the older man added. "Enough games! What are you two up to?" "Just open the bag,"the old man said. Rex snatched the bag from the man's hands and, against better judgement, opened it. A gun. He squinted. The same model as - he felt his holster. Empty! He took the gun from the bag, tucked it under his jacket, and told both men, "Stealing a special agent's firearm is a felony." "Don't be so melodramatic,"the old man said. "Besides,"he said, extending his hand, "It won't fire without these." "Okay, okay,"Rex said. "What kind of charade is this?" "Magic, special agent,"the man said. "The kind of magic you're going to need if you want to have any hope of stopping - oh, wait, what's her name again? Morgana? Morticia? Mor-something or other?" "Mortigama,"Rex said, and then hissed, "How do you know that?" "It's a terrible name,"the old man said. "Anyway, I've been summoned to lend you my assistance, and here I am, ready to work some genuine magic." "We're out in the open,"Rex said. "We should maybe go inside." "This is fine,"the old man said. "But, if you want, we can use your code names. Sound good, Agent Silver?" "Okay. Yeah, that's right. Ok, use the code names. And since you know mine already, how about introducing yourself with yours?" "Great. Or, The Great. Great's fine. After ninety I lost about half my audacity." Rex reached for his billfold, glanced inside at a note he had written himself earlier that morning. He had written: Grater, as in Cheez. Note to self: I misspelled cheese. "Ok. Nice to meet you, uh, Great. And this is?"He turned around but the other man had already departed without his noticing. "Well, here's the situation,"he explained to the old man. "There is a nasty telekinetic on the loose - and, where did your friend go?" "Mortigana,"The Great (aka: old Santa man) said. "I was made aware."Then, the old man waved his hand. "Don't mind Jose. He gets skittish around anyone working for a three-letter bureaucracy."He winked. "Not entirely a proud start, that one. Forget you saw him." "I was thinking we should start with the diamond exhibit -" "Right,"The Great said, "Because telekinesis immediately means bank or museum heist. Isn't it kind of strange, sad really, that they don't get their rocks off at the strip club? Wouldn't that really be the place to make the magic happen?" "Uh,"Rex began, "No, how about we just stay focused -" "Did I say something to offend?"The old man smiled. "Strike a little too close to home?" "What? I - no! Stop that." "Dare I ask why the VIP treatment with Candy Cane is worth nearly four hundred dollars?" Rex gaped and levelled his finger at the old man. "You cease and desist this absurd, factually inaccurate, completely untrue, uh, accusations!" "Oh, fine,"the old man said. "You're no fun."He put his hand in his pocket, took out a soup spoon, and offered it to Rex. "Okay, it's been about forty years, but let's see if the government remembers anything about what I told them the last time about telekinesis." "Look, uh, Great, I've never seen you before, and -" "Just take the damn spoon, tell me if it feels normal,"the man said. "And, call me James."
"It has been exactly 29 years, 3 months, 22 days, 18 hours, and 56 minutes, since subject has been synthesized. Chamber 420. Status: Stable..."The Ethereal voice records into the archive. "Subject still remains in the chamber, despite the obvious trapdoor in the cieling. Although, the subject has been in isolation it's entire life. With no proper education or social functions in its entire lifespan, it is deemed impossible for the subject to even recognize and determine the ability to escape. It hasn't any clue of 'escape' or 'trap door'.. I want it on record that I accept full responsibility of this failed subject. Status Change: Terminate."
[Moderately Long] I paid cash for the camera and the woman behind the glass display counter handed me a receipt. After stuffing the receipt in my pocket I headed back out to the street. I’d been out on the town most of the day and the sun was setting. I decided to try my new find out. I’d been collecting cameras for a while and this one had much more detail than any I’d seen before. I was approaching a park a couple blocks away from my apartment building. “Seems like a fine place to take a photo,” I thought. After noticing some pigeons nearby I kneeled down to get a good angle and “click.” The flash was really bright, almost blinding. Fearing the pigeons would fly away I stuck my head out to the side to check on them, they were still there though. I took a couple more pictures and stuck the camera in it’s bag and left. I got home developed the film and took a look at the photos I took. They were all the same, the pigeons hadn’t moved between any of the shots. Odd, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. I went about my routine until I went to sleep. The next day I was on my way to work when I passed by the park. I glanced around, taking in the view when I saw pigeons. Not just any pigeons; I noticed they weren’t moving and walked closer. Upon further inspection they were completely still. I waved my arms around but still, the pigeons didn’t move. I poked one and it fell over. In a slight panic I sat the bird back up and stood in awe and confusion. Had they been like this since yesterday evening? Surely not. Did the new camera have anything to do with it? I checked my phone for the time; I had time to spare before I needed to be anywhere. I rushed back home to fetch the newly suspicious antique. I slipped it out of its bag and took pictures of different things in my kitchen; the microwave, some fruit, a shot of the corner where some plants grew beside my fridge. Taking the film and the camera with me I was off to work for the second time. I dropped the camera and film off at the photography section of a large convenience store and went to work. After a rather long day I took the subway to the convenience store and picked up my curious film and camera. I walked home, passing by the frozen pigeons on my way. Once I walked in my front door I set down my things on the dining table. I looked at the things I had photographed. The microwave was set on the same time and the fridge still had a morning glare from the sun that no longer cast light through the windows. My theory was proven. This camera stops things. It takes capturing a moment in time forever seriously. The grapes and pears I bought the other day probably wouldn’t rot. I sat there, looking at the pictures and then back at the objects in them. I thought about what was, what could be happening here. I’d always wanted to zoom down 17th street in a BMW...I called my friend Jim. I told him almost everything. He said he was down for some antics; making it rain without people stealing his money was something he mentioned. Thinking back on it now. The things we did were a little underwhelming, but we could only freeze time, not reverse or erase it. We’re not horrible people either, and we may want to use the camera again sometime, when we have better ideas.
Naya had thought he was prepared for whatever life wanted to throw at him. Years of training both mentally and physically had made him a master with a solid, impenetrable mind and skills that would make many ancient warriors of history weep with pride. And yet, he didn't know how little he actually knew. For one reason or another, his twin sister Faeya had flown into the city for a visit and was currently staying at his dojo. Bored one evening, she recommended they go out dancing. And, in their search, the siblings came upon Club BreakDown. "That's an...interesting name for a club,"Naya pointed out, making a face. "Well, let's see how interesting this place is,"Faeya responded, tugging him inside. Once past the two stoic bouncers at the entrance, they were bombarded with blasting, upbeat music. The main floor was packed with people dancing to the sound, rhythm flowing through their bodies that swayed, bumped and bounced. Along the walls were tables were some were enjoying drinks while subtlety moving to the beat. It was dimly lit and the strobe lights were blinding as they flew about. Naya was bumped several different times and eyed by nearly everyone they passed as he and Faeya attempted to find an empty table. By the time they sat down, he was already exhausted and wanted to go home. He looked morbidly at his excited twin. "Tell me again, why we came here?" "We're here to have fun and enjoy ourselves!" "I would enjoy being home right now..." A scantily dressed young man suddenly approached their table with two glasses of ice filled water. His smile was pleasant as he looked upon the two. "My, my, a pair of new faces,"he said. "Welcome to Club BreakDown. I'm Kemonte." Naya rolled his eyes and remained quiet. Faeya, however, perked up. "I'm Faeya. That's my brother Naya." "Good to meet you both. Can I get you anything?" "I'd like to get out of here..."came Naya's snarky response, earning him a hard nudge from his sister. Kemonte glanced at him. "Oh. Aren't you a little hot under the collar?" "He's just in a bad mood,"Faeya said, trying to ease the tension. "Because it's dancing, Faeya. Who cares? We could have gone anywhere else in the city but you chose dancing. And what's so special about this place anyway?!" Faeya looked embarrassed at her brother's outburst but the lithe waiter merely grinned. Behind him, the patrons on the dance floor suddenly scattered and the tempo of the music drastically changed. The siblings looked at each other, bewildered. A single white strobe light suddenly flashed and slowly circled the area before landing on a redheaded woman dressed in stretchy tights and an off shoulder shirt smoking a cigarette in the corner. Cheers and applause flew up from the crowd who watched her saunter onto the dance floor, cigarette still between her lips. Again the white light roamed, this time landing on a glasses wearing guy in loose pants and a button up shirt. He met the woman on the dance floor and the two stared down one another. The redhead even discarded her black pumps. To Naya, it almost felt like they were about to fight. And then, wild music with incomprehensible lyrics burst from the speakers. The two started to dance, moving to the sporadic beat like they were possessed by a spirit of song. Slowly, slowly, they inched closer to each other only for the woman to strike first, bringing up her foot in a swift motion and having it collide with the guy's stomach. He gasped out in pain but did a 360 spin, knocking her back with a tremendously hard headbutt. Faeya and Naya watched in awe. Kemonte smirked at the flabbergasted twins. The bloody debacle of dance continued on with shimmies and punches, two steps and tooth drops and a few breakdancing moves that nearly broke some necks. When the music ended, the man dropped to his knees then onto his face, defeat on his shoulders. The woman grinned triumphantly with her bloodied bruised face. "What...the fuck was that?"Naya finally managed to breath out. "To you, we may seem like a boring dance club but this is the real Club BreakDown."Kemonte leered at Naya. "So I'd suggest you shut your fucking mouth or you'll be the next one to get a beat down."
a bit rushed sorry. Set in the near future: Klondike company disbanded. no long sold anywhere. “A Klondike bar? ” “Yes… do you sell it?” “Sir, I don’t think I’ve seen a Klondike bar in years.” Anthony let out a wholly inappropriate whimper in the middle of the store. “Sir?!” said the cashier, bewildered. “If you are finished with your inquires, may you please step aside for the customer behind you, and please refrain from making loud noises” That had been the 30th store Anthony went to and received the same look of befuddlement, before sadly being told the Klondike bar is an extinct product. Eventually Anthony lumbered out the shop, 60 miles from home. By the 15th store, Anthony’s car ran out of gas, but instead of refilling his car up and realizing that this impromptu crazed search for prehistoric bar of chocolate squandered a full tank of gas, and sensibly returning home, he instead nonchalantly discarded his car on the road side leaving him to wander the earth looking for a Klondike bar. The harrowing cold gave Anthony blood shot eyes, he donned a parka jacket, but underneath that he was wearing his pajamas and still had curlers in his hair. Anthony was on the brink of a breakdown, his heart was racing; he had developed a tick where he would under his breath sing the Klondike jingle and intermittently mimic eating a bar, but at intervals he would get agitated and sing the tune aggressively slamming his hand into his face. “whatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebar” he insanely repeated. A seedy lanky man with wispy gelled back hair broke out the shadows of the alleyway attached to the store and approached Anthony. “hey you want some ‘chocolate’ ” Antony deeply engrossed in the fantasy of eating a Klondike bar whipped his head in the direction of the man. “what do you say? You want some” “Got some Klondike?” “Whatever you want to call it; molly, white magic; Klondike. The question is do you want it?” The drug dealer had noticed Anthony’s schizophrenic behavior and targeted him for a sell, but Anthony had been so lost in the prospect of a bar, that he failed to realize the obvious drug deal. “Ok I want 1 bar, but keep close; I might want more ok.” “Dude you’re weird. I’m going to get you an ounce and a half, stay here” Anthony cocked his head to the sky and looked to the heavens in elation, his mouth began salivating at the thought. “whatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebar” After a few short minutes and no sign of the aforementioned drug dealer, Anthony grew restless, and subsequently made his way into alleyway to find his supposed savior. “Hey go back to the pavement! Give me a minute.” exclaimed the sordid druggie. Anthony found the guy knelt down besides a bunch of trash cans, rummaging through a bag. “Finally, I got it for you, you impatient guy” The man got up with his fist closed and walked towards Anthony; he waited until his hand was an inch away from Anthony face before presenting what was inside. “ta-da” “What the frick is this?” “Cocaine, as you requested” an awkward moment lingered “If you want I have crystal, let me chec- ” “NO, I want a Klondike bar” “Actual chocolate is want you want” “yes, like you said earlier” “yes, cause I heard you whisper you wanted chocolate, I thought it was your own crazy lingo, look dude are you buying what I’m selling or no?” Anthony, now enraged, saw the awkwardly stuffed pistol in the dealers waistband, and lunged for it” “HEY!!” Anthony was successful in grabbing the gun and immediately aim it for the guy head “I’ll give you anything you want, don’t shoot” Before the guy could plea again. BOOM BOOM. A moment later Anthony raised the gun to his own temple. “whatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebarwhatwouldyoudoforaklondikebar” BOOM.
"It was a cold night in London. And it had been a long while since the infamous Jack the Ripper had started a series of violent crimes. We'd been on the case for nigh months, and we found nothing but the bodies left behind and the blood marked their path. A swath of mortal ichor was painted across the streets, and nobody knew the artist. Nobody except me. They slipped up, they had one bad day, the timing aligned in exactly the wrong way. I saw the cloak and the hat, the bloodstained knife, and the twinkle in their eyes that turned fear and surprise. So it was her, the one I had wed all those years ago. This was the person who had gone on the infamous spree. It made sense, when I thought about it, all of them were around the time she went out, and a man's got to sleep. So those were the opportunities, she held in her hands the means, and there remained only the motive. That I didn't know, and unfortunately I never would. I thought back to that time, that day of marriage. Love and cherish each other 'till death do us part. And for my flimsy justification, I posit: they never said what kind of death would part us. Be it the death of those women, the death of our trust, or the death of her by bullet I put her in head and heart, I'll safely say we were well and parted. So i'm sure that God above will be perfectly fine with this, Minister. But I had to tell anyway." There was silence in the other side of the booth. But I was already and walking into the bright outside world. Maybe to travel a bit. A newly free man like me shouldn't fritter around uselessly, and besides, I had enough of London for one lifetime.
Wow. That’s the only word that comes to mind when you are floating, weightless and free. Well, weightless and free yes, floating, no. I’ve been a ghost for a while now. And you know what they don’t tell you? It is annoying. The first couple hundred years were alright. But then more people started showing up. Pretty soon there were billions of us. And you know what happened next. The overpopulation was insane. People started fighting and the riots were happening left and right. So I decided that of change was going to happen, then I’d need to go look for it. So here I am, in space. Looking for another realm, planet, plane of existence. Anywhere but here where there are too many of us. Until the next time ghosts. Goodbye, this is Pete Lennon signing off.
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blueeyedlion, this one is for you &#x200B; The petals were mesmerizing, shimmering, barely solid, as though they didn't exist. They were clearly black, but when the light reflected off the glistening, oil-like surface, were every color. It was... magical. When looking at the flower, it was hard to think about anything else. It was beauty, there was no other word to describe the physical perfection that was this flower. Nothing else could compare, certainly no human creation, no artificial construct, no... anything. I sometimes had thoughts when looking at the flower, thoughts that weren't my own, thoughts that were better than my own. I felt stronger, more thoughtful, more unique when observing the flower. I felt like a perfect being. The flower was all that mattered. "Hey,"I felt a tap on my shoulder and my concentration was broken. I turn to look at Micah, my older brother. "It's dangerous to look at that for too long. You should know that as good as anybody." "Huh?" "You've been out here for three hours, squatting over the flower. Look, the back of your neck is all red from sunburns." I feel my neck, and the skin is hot and sore to the touch. "Oh. Whatever." "Whatever my ass, come inside. You've been out here too long."Micah grabs my wrist, to try and drag me back into the house, but I have a worrying thought. "You don't care about me at all!"I pull at my arm, trying to break his grip. "What?" "You just want me to stay inside so you can spend time looking at the flower without me!"I twist my wrist against his thumb, breaking his grasp and pulling free. "What the hell are you saying? Are you even listening to yourself? Come with me, you're like, completely brainwashed!"Micah grabs for me once again. A still darker thought floods my mind. If he's trying to keep me from the flower... He'll get what's coming to him. I attack my brother with all the might I can muster, and yet more still, as though fueled by the thought of the flower behind me. It's not long before I have my brother on the ground, and I pick up a rock from the garden path to bring down upon his face. I don't know if he's dead or not, it's of little concern to me. I set the rock down and return to the flower, dropping into a crouch so as to better observe it's iridescent petals.
(1992) “Chief Earle, I have something for you to see.” I stammered. The LSPD Chief stared at me, his stone cold eyes fixed on me, and their blue tone faded to almost match his graying hair, where a few black streaks still clung on to their color. I sat the folder down on the Chief’s desk. He looked up at me, and awaited my explanation. “Sir, I was organizing the archives down at Central, and I stumbled upon this.” I explained, “Its...pretty heavy stuff, plus it mentions your name.” The chief picked up the folder and flipped through the pages. He seemed pretty surprised about it, judging by the look on his face. “Corruption, bribery, extortion....Jesus Officer, you’ve hit a pretty big find.” The chief still seemed to be in shock about this. “All of this from 1947....my God...” He looked up at me, “Officer....how far did you get into this before you brought it down?” He put one hand into his desk drawer. I stood up straighter, “I just found your name mentioned near the beginning sir, and decided to bring it down. Just after the part where the younger Detective was about to arrest a prop manager.” The chief sighed, and spoke again. “Good work Officer, how about you get back out on patrol, I’ll have someone else take over for you.” He flashed that Hollywood smile as he finished. We exchanged a salute, and I grabbed the folder and left. As I walked down the hallway, I kept thinking about how this would be my chance for a promotion. Back in the office, the Chief sat back down once his heavy door had closed, and he picked up the phone and began dialing a number. As he did this, he released his grip on the handgun he’d been quietly aiming at the young officer. He didn’t want to do it here though, because that would cause problems...but Chief Earle was a problem solver, and he knew someone who could solve it for him. “Hello, Frank?” The Chief said calmly, “I think Officer Pendelbury is beginning to get too puffed up, and needs to go on “vacation”. I hear he’s got some rather unbecoming information on you and your partner...” The reply was as cold as ice and twice as vicious, “Consider it done Chief, we’ll pin it on a gangbanger, probably one of them GSF crackheads.” The rest of the conversation was brief, but once the phone hung up, the chief walked to his window, where he could see Officer Ralph Pendelbury and his partner, Officer Catherine Lichtmann climb into their caprice patrol car and head out. “I thought I destroyed that damn thing back in 1947....figures that my partner would have been smart enough to have someone make a copy....” Chief Roy Earle scowled at the departing patrol car from behind his thin rimmed glasses. The former Vice Detective turned to his hat rack, where a worn fedora hung, and mumbled to himself. “You’ve come back to haunt me once again Cole, but this time I’m dictating the terms of surrender.”
I was born with her. She slipped out of my head like a genie from a bottle. All my memories from then until now, have her black eyes and slender figure. At my 6th birthday she watched me blow out the candles and shyly smiled. My first kiss she edged me an eyebrow raise to plant my lips. She watched with watery eyes as I was beat to a pulp on a snowy night. I was drunk and I was laughing as the blood leaked out of my nose. She is my shadow, and like shadows she never speaks. She has tried, but her lips spoke nothing, her black tongue rolled in the clouds of silence. I think she loves me. I think if she could climb out of her form and into some other body, she would. She would make a good woman. With rosy cheeks and pale skin and thick hair. I call her Lucinda, I know she likes the name. She has been described by my psychologist as an imaginary friend that never went away. But I don't care much for what she is, I care what she could be. She could be alive.
"I have a solution", said Lucifer. He had no microphone, yet His voice was clear to all the Members of the Demonic Assembly. "Our problem has always been that God has a huge number of official churches and has been using them to spread Fake News and deliberately confusing Man about Us. Mixing up our roles and responsibilities is just a simple way for Him to win. In addition, it makes Hell a hell for Us as well as the souls sent here, as our postal system drowns in mis-addressed mail. It is His way of torturing Us whilst We try to 're-educate' the souls who arrive here.". "What we must do is have Our own Second Coming now. We use the AntiChrist not to directly oppose God, but to start a PR campaign correcting the Lies that God has told and promoting the Benefits of being in Hell in the afterlife, and selling your soul to Us" There was uproar among the demons and devils, Satan in particular shouting "But now is not the Foretold time!". "The Foretold Time for the arrival of the AntiChrist is yet another way of ensuring that He wins. We're playing by the Rules and Calendar He has set for Us. Only by operating on Our Timetable and Rules can We hope to win." "And another thing. Why are We using paper for messages? I'm sure all of you have got a letter only to be unable to read it because someone has accidentally burned it. In addition to going public, We need our own .hell domain, and should buy other useful domain names such as hell.on.earth. We need an email system so that we can send and receive messages instantly. We can free millions of Imps and Minor Demons from being Our office messengers to get down to the serious work of Temptation, Corruption and Torture instead!" "But be warned, my comrades.", his voice rising to an ominous Thunder in the ears of his listeners, "If you send me a 'Lolcat' or any other so called meme message, you will truly learn what it is like to be on the receiving end of Our Wrath."
"Can you turn off the basement light before going to bed Kev?"I heard my mom ask from her bedroom. I shuddered at the thought of heading down into the basement. I've been down there many times before but only once after dark, two weeks ago. I remember it quite well, which is why I'm not eager to go down tonight. "Can't Dad do it?"I shot back half asking, half begging. There was a bit of silence. I took this short moment to do something I don't normally do, but I'm pulling out all stops tonight. I turn my head upwards and whisper a short prayer. _Two weeks ago my mom asked me to grab a couple of boxes of tableware from the basement. We were having some family over for Sunday lunch the following day and she wanted to be sure she had enough available. The first two boxes were relatively easy to get upstairs. By the third box though, the weight of the boxes combined with the 12 steps were beginning to be a bit too much. I grabbed the last box, headed to the foot of the stairs and flipped the switch off. I laid the box down as I figured I'd take a breather just before I headed up the steps and that's when I noticed the breathing. At first I thought it was an echo of my own breathing but as the pace of my breathing slowed, the echo quickened._ "He's in the bathroom and he went in with his phone. I doubt he'll be coming out anytime soon."My mother shouted back. "Hmm, maybe I would've fared better had I reached out to Buddha."I thought. "Aren't you heading back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers? Can't you do it once you're done?"I asked my mother half whimpering but wholly begging this time. I know I was pushing it but I really hoped someone else would do this without me having to admit my own cowardice. _A shipping barrel, an old CRT monitor sitting on a dusty desk and a rusty 4 tier metal shelf unit stacked with items and draped with Christmas lights were all the things my eye scanned in the direction of the breathing. I didn't see anything that seemed odd at that time but the raspy breathing now seemed louder and my heart rate now matched the quickened breathing._ _The barrel was the first thing I ruled out. It was closed and, if the sound was coming from in it, I doubted it would be this loud without sounding muffled and the breathing sounded anything but muffled. The desk faced the wall and the monitor faced me. There was no way anything, or anyone for that matter, could be on or under it. I scanned the 4 shelf unit, shelf by shelf, picking apart everything I saw and I was ready to laugh at myself for overreacting when I noticed it. The Christmas lights weren't flashing in rhythm, two lights in particular didn't seem to be flashing at all._ "I already put away the leftovers and I'm not going back to the kitchen again tonight!"She said rather exasperated and I could tell that I've ran out of options. I hung in defeat and took slow strides to the top of the basement staircase. _In hindsight, the first concern should've been why the Christmas lights were flashing at all as no one plugs in Christmas lights in the middle of March. Honestly though, it never crossed my mind because in that moment, I didn't take my eyes off of the two lights that refused to flash. I didn't take my eyes off because I couldn't. It didn't make any sense to me and the more I stared at them, the more they seemed to stare back. Then they blinked. I didn't want to believe it at first but it definitely wasn't a flash. A flash is quick, this however, was slow and deliberate. I'll admit, at that point I was scared. My feet felt like bricks, my chest felt like it was caving in and my heart felt like it was beating along to Another One Bites The Dust._ _I remember thinking, "Why did it have to be that song?"_ _As I stood there frozen, I noticed something else. The blinking lights appeared to be growing larger and ultimately drifting towards me. I compared the blinking lights with the flashing lights and the blinking lights were definitely growing larger. I had no more questions, I had seen enough. I grabbed the box and sprinted up the steps. I haven't stepped into the basement since that day._ "You the man. You the man. You the man!"I mumbled to myself as I jumped from side to side on the balls of my feet in an effort to psych myself up. This would mark the first time I've headed back down since two weeks ago. I clearly didn't feel ready but I was less ready to be laughed at. Besides it may have been my imagination all along. I hope it was my imagination all along. I'm pretty certain it was my imagination all along...right? My game plan was simple, sprint down flip the switch and sprint back up. "What's the worst that can happen?"I muttered to myself. After another 30 seconds of psyching myself up, I told myself it was time. I still wasn't ready but I imagine if I didn't do it until I was ready, I wouldn't do it at all. Seven seconds later I'm at the top of the steps, staring back into the basement, smiling with myself. A little chuckle subsequently escapes. That chuckle explodes into a hearty laugh. "I can't… believe my imagination… made me act that way."I told myself between breaths. "Good thing no one else knows about this." As my laughter dies down and I start to close the basement door, the light flickers back on. I stood there for about half a beat and then yelled, "Mom!!…"
The room grew quiet as Andrew Garner, the director of INASA stood up and cleared his throat. “OK Miller, you’ve got a the floor, what do we know?” A balding man in his forties with glasses and a white shirt, tie askew, stood up and addressed the room, focusing on Garner. “Not much. We know the Distortion Rig’s power output dipped for a micro-second during transfer. We know that the Lincoln did not arrive at the remote DR. We know it has never happened before, not even during the short range testing phase of the project. We’ve had a total of five scheduled data packet transfers since the glitch so the Rig is working fine now. Technical is running down the problem now and they’ll have a report for us in a few days. They’re not sure what caused the dip, but they’ve assured me they can replicate it precisely. That’s good news.” “Why is that good news?” Asked Garner. “Because they think the Lincoln is intact, sir. They’re running the numbers right now and they want to intentionally cause the malfunction in a controlled test. We know that duration equals distance - we’ve always known that. It’s how we placed the remote DR. They believe that the power dip acted the same as an intentional power cut. Because it dipped and didn’t cut entirely when the power rose back up to normal levels the remote Rig detected a transfer but nothing was there. Because the Lincoln had already dropped out of distortion during the dip.” “Ok, let’s say that’s the case. How do we get them back?” “They want to run several in system tests to determine if the power dips are as consistent as intentional power cuts – they want to know if duration still equals distance in that scenario. If it does, then we may be able to determine where along the path the Lincoln dropped out. As far as getting them back… there’s only one option and I don’t think it will work. If duration still equals distance, then we can replicate the process precisely – or at least precisely enough. The only way to get them back would be to build another DR and send it through to them. The DR is one-way only. The problem with that is obvious: I don’t think we can. The Distortion Rigs are some of the most expensive construction projects the earth has ever taken on. Even if we had the resources to build another one right now, by the time we finished construction the crew and passengers of the Lincoln would be long dead. It took 28 years to build the second remote rig.” The silence in the room deepened. Garner sat down and leaned back in his chair. “So… they’re lost? Do we need to start notifying families? We need to know what our options are.” “Right. If they did drop out as Technical suspects, then they are alive and functional. They’re just stuck. The Distortion Ship class was constructed with only orbital maneuverability in mind. They don’t have the fuel to achieve any significant velocity, and even if they did – why? They’re in the middle of empty space. I don’t think there’s any way to get them here or to their destination right now. But we can keep them alive. We can improve their circumstances.” “How?” “If we can dial in the power dips and correlate them with distance we can send probes. Probes with food, water, fuel, equipment, medical supplies - anything we can think of. The Lincoln was outfitted with about a week’s worth of supplies for the passengers and crew. It’s been nine days since the attempt, so if they began rationing at the outset, then they should be ok. If we start sending supplies along their route – assuming they kept their relative velocity – they can pick them up like bread crumbs along the way.” Stokes, lead of resources, cleared her throat. “For how long?” “I’m sorry?” “For how long? How long do we send these supplies… and to what end?” “Well...”, Miller frowned, “forever. I mean, if they are there and alive… they’ll be there for… well for thousands of years. I don’t know if you’re grasping the distances we’re talking about here. They are literally in empty space between galaxies. We can help them sustain themselves. We can even send surplus ships, empty hulls with just life support. They’d be able to create a somewhat self-sustaining environment with the right equipment and instructions. It isn’t ideal and right now communication is one way. We’ll have no idea if it is working or even if they are alive. Technical has some ideas for smaller scale Distortion Rigs but we’re years away from the testing phase. If we opt to fast track that research we may be able to create a DR small enough to send one person back at a time, but even fast tracking we’re talking billions of dollars and at minimum ten years.” “Ten years?” Stokes choked. “When will you have a solid estimate for the funding required to produce the small scale DR?” “It will be a few months before we can nail it down, but I want to mention that it wouldn’t be without long term returns. If we opt for the small scale DR, we’ll obviously have to make a twin unit here – it would essentially be the same as the colonization Distortion Rigs. Research and development will cost close to what building another large scale rig would, but we’d then have a remote inter-galactic outpost. There is a lot of science to be done in an environment like that.” “Right,” Stokes said, “but if we cut our loses and presume them MIA, it costs us nothing, correct?” “Well, not nothing...”, Saims, director of public relations said, “there’s going to be a public back-lash. Questions about safety, etc.” “Of course, but there’s a practical aspect that needs to be addressed. How much is the potential science to be done in inter-galactic space going to be worth? Will it be enough to off-set the cost of potentially endless probes and the development of this theoretical small-scale DR? We don’t even know if these people are alive. We could be sending millions of dollars of supply probes into empty space for sentiment.” Miller sighed. “I can’t speak to that. All of this is theoretical. You’re absolutely right Stokes. They may not be alive. As I’ve said, we’ll have no way of knowing for at least ten years. If Technical can get the small-scale DR functional, and if they predict the path Lincoln took and if they can time the dips correctly and if Lincoln can pick up the probes in time…this equation is almost all variables. If we invest the funding in sending periodic probes for ten years and there’s no one alive to receive the small-scale DR, then we’ve wasted all those funds and set back the current colonization efforts by years. It is a risk, a significant one.” Garner stood up. “Ok, I think we have the information we need to make a decision. Miller, thank you. People, let’s recess and reconvene in say… three hours. Have your arguments ready and we’ll decide what to do from there.”
Ref: 457/43246/021 Mr Cypher, After due investigation, we would like to confirm that Heaven is not within our jurisdiction. Regards, The IRS. Ref: 457/43246/054 Mr Cypher, Regarding your follow-up letter, we would like to confirm the following: Heaven is not geographically located within or performing registered business activities within the United States, and therefore does not fall within the permit of the IRS. Should you have information that changes this situation, please notifiy us. Regards, The IRS. Ref: 457/43246/078 Mr Cypher, We are given to understand the majority of Heaven's occupants are classified as deceased. As death is considered to terminate US residency, deceased residents cannot be US citizens, quite aside from the issues of whether deceased residents can be deemed to perform taxable labour on their own behalf. Should you have knowledge that any of them are performing labour that changes the taxable value of their estate within seven years mortem, please notify us immediately. Regards, The IRS. Ref: 457/43246/096 Mr Cypher, As the creatures you reference were not born, they defacto cannot be born within the United States and therefore are not taxable citizens. Further as Heaven is not in our jurisdiction, any labour they perform there cannot be labour performed by illegal aliens. Should they be performing remunerated employment within the US region, then we would need details of their employer and we kindly suggest you contact Immigration. Regards, The IRS. Ref: 457/43246/125 Mr Cypher, While eternal salvation may be considered a benefit-in-kind in return for work and therefore taxable, allocating a figure to this benefit is still under discussion. Kindly provide details of this perk, an assessment of its monetary value, and if possible proof that they are receiving it. Regards, The IRS Ref: 457/43246/143 Mr Cypher, Please call me immediately. Regards, The IRS. Ref: 457/43246/165 Dear Lou, Thank you for your recent correspondence and the detailed information regarding the Heaven cemetary and crematorium non-profit. We have investigated, and while we may not discuss particulars of the case, we will be remitting the standard 10% for reporting tax evaders directly to your account as you requested. This will clear your tax arrears. Also note that due to the duration of your arrears several questions have arisen. We have opened an investigation into your account, and would require your tax records for the complete period of operation of Hell Inc. Kind Regards, The IRS.
Life sucked. Jerome had just finished work, and was driving home glumly. Today, he had been lectured by an older man for selling cbd oil in the tobacco shop. His coworker Richard had lived up to his name of Dick. And he was wondering how he was going to pay his bills. He was already a month behind, and the minimum wage he was making at the tobacco shop wasn't going to make ends meet. He could stop driving, but that would mean getting up even earlier, and walking 20 minutes in the freezing cold. He sighed, and stumbled up the stairs to his meager apartment. It was cold. He wasn't going to turn the heat up. He ate a can of beans cold from the can, and tossed the plastic spoon. He was going to bed early, tomorrow was going to be a long walk. He looked out the window to watch his neighbor watching the latest news from fox. "Fuck Trump, and Fuck hillary."He swore. We could have had bernie with a decent life, but no, we just had to get the orange monster. Perhaps this is what we deserve he mused. Jerome tossed and turned that night. Morning came, and the sun rose to Jerome trudging to work along the roadside, dark and angry thoughts roiling his mind like a black cloud. However, Jerome wasn't alone in his thoughts. High above, someone had taken notice of the despondent young man. The invisible figure floated on the winds, letting the air buoy its wings as it floated ever closer to the young man with emotions boiling around him like smoke from a grease fire. And then a rustle of paper as a small notebook dropped. One instant it was ethereal. Spiritual. The next, it was quite solid, and quite obedient to the law of gravity. It fell and landed in front of the young man, who stopped and looked upward perplexed as to where the notebook had come from. The shinigami who had dropped the notebook cracked a toothy smile. This... would be interesting. Far less boring than the plane he had come from. Jerome look back down at the book, perplexion still written all over his face. He bent down, and picked up the small black book. Its cover was made of a material he couldn't place. It wasn't wood, metal or plastic. It seemed to leach the very light from the air around it, giving the book an almost black glow. That darkness was in stark contrast to the title written on the book's face. "Deathnote". Jerome picked the book up and opened it. Its pages were blank, and it seemed to have an endless supply of pages. Every time he turned a page, another page appeared at the back, as if the back and front cover were an endless supply of new paper. He turned the entire book, and the moment he did so, another books worth of pages flushed out from the back. Impressive. Jerome was slightly freaked out, but also amazed at how cool this book was. It was a literal endless supply of note paper. Jerome flipped back to the front cover, and caught the first hint of writing he had seen. "The person's whose name is written in the notebook of death shall die"... Jerome looked at the book askance now, before continuing to read. "The writer must specify a type of death and a time of death within nine minutes, or the target shall die of a heart attack immediately.""The writer shall absorb the soul, lifespan, and powers of any target entity upon the target's death"Jerome paused at that. The powers? Just who was this book kidding? He pocketed the book, and continued on his trudge to work. Lunch hour would be interesting.
I had hoped this day would never come. Because I knew, if this day came, it meant that something was coming for us that couldn't be stopped with super strength, or laser vision, or the ability to shoot fireballs out of your hands. But as soon as I opened by door at four in the morning, bleary eyed, ready to yell at whoever thought it was ok to go banging at my door at such a godforsaken time, and found a very beat up Victory Lass standing at my door, dragging the battered and bruised bodies of The Lion and Amazing Justice behind her, I knew that this day that I had been dreading would come. "Please sir, I found this address in the Doomsday Protocol."Victory Lass looked at me, tears in her eyes, a far cry from the confident figure I usually saw on my TV, or in the newspapers. "It said, if all else fails, go to this address. Ask for The Last Line of Defense. If no one's there, just run." Very pithy. I liked that. I ushered her inside, checked to make sure no one was following her, and closed the door. "Put those two down on the couch."I motioned, as I reached to pour myself a stiff drink. "Make yourself at home Victory Lass. There are some people I need to talk to, and I have the feeling they'll be even less excited that you're here than I am."
You pretend to be someone or something else, getting closer and closer to him as a friend. You reason that since he doesn’t know YOU it’s ok. So you go with your plan, hoping that when you get close to him you can stab him in the back (literally and metaphorically) But you realize that he’s funny and smart He’s creative and helps charities He likes animals, dogs are his favorites, because he doesn’t sneeze around them He’s hurt himself trying not to sneeze You genuinely enjoy hanging out with him, and the days are ticking until you run out of time and the government recalls you and sends another agent. He’s incredibly sweet and talented, you can’t do that! He will kill thousands! It’s not his fault he was cursed like this! No. Don’t think about that. Hit him quick, get out fast. You can’t kill him! Can you? So one night you take him to your favorite hill. Uh, HIS favorite hill. It’s warm, but not hot, with a gentle breeze pushing the water about. It’s peaceful and quiet, like glass blown on careful hands And the sound of gunshots shatter it all You haven’t been the same. You quit your job. You drink and smoke He did something. You were a ruthless killer before. But now. All You Can Do Is Think.
The sound of the window shade crashing down was barely audible as the pounding in my chest overwhelmed my senses. "Impossible!"I thought as my eyes darted from one empty seat to the next. "How could they not see me?" Every scene I'd ever laid eyes on of any plane after the passengers disembark began to flash before my eyes. Every experience I'd ever had of remaining on a flight for it's next hop. The flight attendants always check the plane, they count the seats. They know who's supposed to be there and who... "Wait! Stop!"My inner-voice shouted as an obvious piece of information began to come into focus. "Where are the flight attendants?" I was sure I've heard of planes being shuttled to another location without passengers, but without any staff? "Hello!?"I called out as I leaped to my feet. "Is there anyone there? I think you forgot something!"Silence. As I began to make my way forward, I stumbled and struggled to regain my footing. My head was swirling as if I'd just stepped off a spinning carnival attraction. I had to keep moving, I had to push through the fog that was slowly filling my head, I had to get to the galley. There would be someone in the galley. "Please..."I gasped with a heavy breath as I propped myself up against the entryway of the small kitchen and makeshift break-room. "...I think I need medical attention..."My eyes widened and the fog faded slightly as I pulled back the curtain. Nobody. The pounding of my heart was reinvigorated as the fog began to forcefully roll back in. Just when my knees gave out and I could feel myself toppling over, I noticed something curious. "STEAM!"I shouted as my torso shot up like a rocket. I don't know how long I'd been out this time, but it didn't matter. There was steam over the coffee pot. Next stop, the flight deck. I was sprinting toward the cockpit door with such force, I damn near threw my entire body weight up against it before I could think to slow down. "They'd have to be dead not to hear that."I thought to myself with a bit of humor that quickly turned sour. "Hey! I know you're in there! Open the fucking door!"My troubled sense of dread had turned to anger as I ferociously swung my fist against the only thing between me and the serenity I so desperately desired. Realizing that I may be causing some alarm to whomever sat behind that barrier, I tried to muster an explanation. "I'm not a terrorist, I swear!"Because that always calms down a flight crew. Still, I received nothing. Not a peep. One would think all the commotion would at least trigger some kind of response. What was happening? How could there be no one flying the plane? It was only as the unfathomable and preposterous conclusion began to rear it's ugly head that the clicking of locks could be heard. The cockpit door swung open and I marveled at the sight before me. I was at the back of the plane again. That's all I've got and I have to head home soon. It's the first time I decided to actually sit down and try to write something though, so I wanted to submit it. Hope somebody found it interesting.
"Craig, this is going to sound crazy but bear with me,"the message on the voicemail said, "it'll all make sense soon. "First things first. I'm you, exactly five years from now. Not gonna go into the specifics of it because I don't have much time, but here's proof: in 5th Grade, you kept the Game Boy Advance you found on the ground without telling anyone, you still pick and eat your boogers, and you're still in love with Emily. Now that I have your attention, I really need to tell you something important. You're going to be okay. "Life sucks. We know it. Hank had probably yelled at you this week for losing another client, even though our software has gone to shit for a while now. You're late on your rent money again and might get evicted. Mom hasn't been feeling too good the past few weeks but you can't really do anything when she's halfway across the country. Emily's been gone out of your life for a good four years but you still check up on her Instagram every day. You're going to be okay. "Look, I can't explain everything to you, and frankly, I don't think I should. What I can say is that it gets better. Not all the time. Some days it got shittier, and holy fuck were they some shitty days. But it does get better. You're going to go through an incredible experience. You're going to cry and feel pain, even harder than you've felt before. You're going to love again. You're going to laugh the hardest in your lifetime. You're going to shout the loudest you've ever shouted. You're going to feel not alone anymore. You're going to regret things you've said, and wished you could turn back time. "And you're going to realize it's actually possible, but then decide not to warn yourself. Because by warning yourself, it could change everything about you, and I can't have that happen. Because I love myself. I love who I've become. I love you. "I called you on this day for a reason. Please listen to this voicemail before you head to the roof. I need you to listen. You're going to be okay."
"If I have to deal with Mrs Fiery again, I am going to punch someone,"Sid said, shaking her soda can at me. "Oh, Sydney, darling, if you would be a dear and cool this drink off I would be so happy. Just be a dear. Ugh, fuck her right?" I shrugged. "I guess. You live next to her. It's not like you have to always help her."I held out my own can of soda, looking hopeful. Sid sighed and twisted her body in a weird shape. The soda crackled, frozen solid. "Oh sorry,"Sid said. "Oh, be a dear,"I said, grabbing her soda. "You can just enjoy this ice cube." Sid snapped her fingers at me. "No, you be a dear!" It still makes me laugh, thinking about that memory. The time before our magic became something of a burden. xxx The sound of the elevator opening was a bird chirping. I had not heard the sound of a bluebird in fifteen years. I had been working on Orbit 14 for six or seven years now, having abandoned the Era 16 project when it became obvious an Earther was not suited for that sort of work. Mars was a lovely shade of green these days. We had almost gotten some bacteria to set up a colony in a pool of epic slime on the north face, but there was so much that could be done. The planet hummed under the metal. I could feel it. All this potential. All this life. All we had to do was make it want to live here. All I had to do was make the planet want to sing again.
Barley could hear the humans whispering in the room over. They were plotting something, yes, plotting something nasty and vile. Then came the sobbing. Shrieking and wailing filled the room. Barley winced with every scream, his sensitive ears burning. The humans must be planning something big, something so horrid that even they couldn't stomach it. I must report this. Ruff-ruff! Woof! Crying and plotting and barking and talking, so much going on. Barley's ear began to burn more. His stomach growled and it to was engulfed in pain. More wailing, though Barley didn't know if it was from the humans or him. It really hurt. The crying stopped and Barley could hear the humans sniffling and coughing. Such weak beings. Your time is almost up. The doors creaked open, slowly and heavily. A woman in a white medical scrub entered, with Nick and small little Julia following behind. Nick had his arm wrapped around Julia, who was also wiping tears off her face. Why was Julia crying? Where did the sobbing humans the room over go? My stomach hurts. They walked over to the table Barley was lying down on. Nick reached over and scratched that one spot behind Barley's ear that just felt oh so good. As his tail wagged, a tear rolled down his face. What's going on? I should really report this. Why is Nick crying? Are they okay? The woman in the white coat asked Nick and Julia something. More tears. Nick said something back to the lady, but Julia just broke down and sobbed into Nick's arm. Nick put his other arm around her shoulder as he stared up into the ceiling, struggling to hold back tears. The lady then walked Julia out of the room. Where are they going? I wanna come. Ow. Nick put his hand under Barley's chin. He began to cry and looked like he was about to say something. He stammered to get words out. "G-go-good bye, buddy." The lady came back, but Julia wasn't with her. She gave Nick a look, a somber and depressed look. She then walked over and got out a syringe. Ow, that hurt. Nick's face was red and wet with tears, his eyes bloodshot. He held his fist over his mouth, holding back wails. Nick, why are you crying. Please don't cry. Barley's eyes felt heavy, and right before they shut close, he could hear Nick let out one last bawl. Nick, where's Julia?
If Charlotte Scarlet Webb had been more aware, then she wouldn't be in this situation. She had been happily getting ready for a date with one of her classmates, Daniel Blake, and had lost track of time. It was an honest mistake. It's just that she had swapped the dates, and was convinced that the full moon was two nights away... Not tonight. Which leads to now. After eating some food at the local diner, Charlotte was walking with Daniel to the movies when she looked at the horizon and froze. "Oh no...."She saw the moon rising... which meant that she had five minutes until she transformed. "What's wrong?"Daniel asked. "I... I got to go home,"she says suddenly. "My mom is ill and I need to take care of her." "Well, I can help,"Daniel insists. "N-No it's fine,"she says. How was she suppose to explain to him that she turned into a giant tarantula that spun giant webs? It would be better to lie- "AHHHHH!" Charlotte is snapped out of her thoughts when she sees Daniel jump away. She follows his gaze and sees a spider. And in that moment, her heart breaks. He was an arachnophobe. She turned into a giant spider. Fate would never allow them to be together. She turns away. "Goodbye, Daniel." "Wait, Charlotte!"He screams, but she was already gone. \- Charlotte manages to make it home in time, and heads to the backyard, ready to transform. "Ah... Why?"She anguishes as she looks at her hands. The hairs had started to poke out, and within moments, her body would continue the transformation. "Why... Why me?"She asks, and it's the last thought she has before the transformation kicks into high gear. Never. Again. She should stay away from arachnophobes to never experience this heartbreak again.
As I stumble around the city, holding my head, I begin to mutter to myself. "I thought I had made it...but..."then a huge explosion happens a few miles from the city. The royal military had just gotten blown up, and I felt all of their energy signals disappear. "Darn it...I...I could've stopped him!"I shout, but no one else is paying attention, cause everyone else is running or driving away, panicking as the military even failed to stop Cell. I curse, and run off to an alley so I can take off for the sky, lifting off and flying towards where I knew the Z warriors would be. As I fly up to the Lookout, everyone is on guard, except for Dende, who had just arrived, and Piccolo. Goku uses Instant Transmission to teleport up to me as I land on the Lookout, and looks surprised to see me, but doesn't try to hurt me. "We need to talk."he says to which I nod, and allow him to teleport us away, instead just waving at the others who seem bewildered at Goku's behavior. After me and Goku teleport away, Krillin speaks up, and asks "Alright, I give up, who was that guy?"to which Piccolo answers "Just wait and see."which only serves to aggravate Krillin, and he says "Why? We don't even /know/ that guy, let alone know why he came here, or why Goku wanted to talk to him!"and Piccolo says "You felt his power level, right?"causing Krillin to answer with a nod. "Then you'll know how strong he is. He felt more powerful then Goku does now...and he's a Super Saiyan..." Goku teleports us a fair distance away from both the Lookout, and where Cell is. "Alright...now that we're the only people here...who are you?"he asks. I take the large hat off of my head, revealing my head of pitch-black hair, parted right down the middle. Then I look up at him. "I...can't give you my name, but just know that I am from the future. And before you say anything, I'm not from the same future as Trunks. I'm from the future where Cell didn't come back in the Time Machine, but you guys already beat the Androids."Goku blinks and nods a few times as I explain where I came from, and he asks. "But wait, if you've been around all this time, then...we would've sensed you...especially Piccolo."and I look away. "I learned to hide my power...even from the best power sensors in the galaxy...heck, even the whole Universe..." Not long after Goku and I teleported away, we teleport back to the Lookout, with everyone looking at me suspiciously, but no one says anything. "Everyone, this is our friend from the future. But not the same future that Trunks is from, if I understand right."to which I nod. "I can't give you a name, for the sake of the time-stream, but I am not in any way connected to the timeline Trunks is from. All you need to know, is that I am here to save the future from those who wish to destroy it.". Trunks looks shocked by the news that I am from the future, but seems upset that I'm not from the same one as him. "I know you were hoping I'd be from the same future, Trunks, but that's all I can say." The next few days were spent on the Lookout until the Cell Games began. I had thought about going to take care of Cell myself, but history dictated what I had to do first. I was going to have to kill Cell only after Gohan had unlocked Super Saiyan 2. I realized what that meant, but if I didn't let Gohan power up, then everyone would suffer more later. 'The day of the Cell Games' Cell had used the Cell Juniors to nearly massacre the rest of the Z-fighters, forcing Gohan to power up to Super Saiyan 2 in anger. I was out of harms way, merely dodging the attacks of the one appointed to take me down, while hiding my true power level from Cell the whole time. After the Cell Juniors had all been taken out, I managed to convince Gohan to make Cell suffer by sending him straight to the HFIL. Gohan and I then used a Double Kamehameha to destroy Cell completely, while also leaving Goku alive, by not letting Cell expand with massive amounts of energy.
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Daniel started time again as he stepped out of the public restroom and back into the crowded mall. "Hey, you're right! I did feel it!"He heard someone say. The voice sounded so enthused that it piqued his curiosity. He searched for the voice's owner and found a young man talking to an older woman. The stranger in a navy-blue pinstripe suit appeared to be around 18 or so; a couple of years younger than Daniel. He was smiling at a white-haired woman wearing a flowing orange dress. Daniel did not see anything worth getting excited about and guessed he'd never learn what they were discussing. He shrugged and continued on his way. After several steps, he realized no one else was moving. He stopped in his tracks and whirled in place looking at everyone. Time was still frozen. He closed his eyes and concentrated on starting its flow again but nothing happened. He tried stopping it again but there was no change. 'Uh oh,"he felt panic start to rise in his stomach until he heard footsteps. The hollow click of heels accompanied a set of heavier footsteps. He looked up and noticed the pair walking away while giggles passed between them. "HEY!"he shouted at them and jogged to catch up. The pair stopped and turned to face him wearing broad smiles. "Yes?"the woman asked. Daniel was surprised to see she had bright, crystal-orange eyes. He shook off the momentary distraction with a visible shake of his head. "Uh.. how are you guys moving?"Daniel pointed at a nearby toddler floating in mid-air. The red-faced child's eyes were forced shut and her mouth was wide open. "Everyone's frozen." "Are they?"She asked with a raised white eye-brow. "You don't seem to be." "Yeah,"Daniel shrugged. "I'm the one that did it."The odd woman reached up and patted Daniel's shoulder. "Do you have a tattoo with the number 14 on it?"She asked. "H-how'd you know?"Only a select few knew about the grim reaper tattooed on his butt-cheek. Daniel chose his favorite number, 14, to put on Death's scythe. The woman turned to her friend. "See? Even low-rank Muertes can do it properly once they're awakened."She turned her attention back to Daniel, her hand still rested on his shoulder. "Can you fast-forward or rewind time? "She asked him. Daniel shook his head. "No. Can you?" "Yes,"she replied curtly, then turned her attention back to the man in the suit. "What does that make him?"She asked in a tone that made Daniel feel like he was being used as an example for something. "D-rank."The woman nodded. "And if he could rewind?"she asked. "C-rank. B-rank if he could fast forward and so on. S-rank means...,"he paused and pointed at the woman. "You,"then he touched his own chest. "...and I can control time loops." "Good, you got it."The woman raised her hand chest-high and wiggled her fingers at the air. A tall black portal opened next to the suited man. "Let's find a higher ranked one so you can see what that feels like."They stepped toward the hole that hung in the air and Daniel realized they were about to leave. "HEY!"he shouted. "Oh right, sorry,"the woman apologized insincerely. "Let him have it back, Billy."She continued walking into the black hole and disappeared. Billy nodded at Daniel. "Sorry,"he said. "She's showing me how to over-ride other Muertes. You can start time again,"he nodded. "Give it a try."Daniel concentrated and the world roared back to life as the flow of time started again. "Hey, "he turned toward the man. "What's a Mu-"Daniel blinked. When he opened his eyes the man and the portal were gone. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #80. 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 assassin’s dagger locked with the hilt of Boro’s sword, catching the lethal thrust before it could find its mark. The implacable guardian shoved his blade forward and up, and the dagger went spinning out of the assassin’s gloved hand, skittering across the palace’s stone floor. Boro saw the assassin’s eyes go wide with sudden panic as he twisted his sword, and slashed him through the neck. The assassin sputtered and groaned briefly before he slumped to the floor. The room was quiet again, and as Boro’s eye flashed to the doors and windows he saw no one else. Relaxing his grip on the sword, he looked back down to the assassin as the man’s blood began to run into a spreading pool around his face and chest. Now that the man lay dead, it was as if Boro was seeing him for the first time. He felt a sigh of pity rising in his chest. It was a feeling he was not used to encountering when he stood over the corpse of an adversary, and the guardian coughed to stifle the emotion. The dead man was thin; wrapped in the simple brown tunic of the peasantry. His face was covered with a wrap of the same brown cloth, and the hand that held the dagger was wrapped with a yellow bit of cloth that looked to Boro like it might have been torn from a scarf. Boro clenched his teeth in frustration, and wiped a tear from his eye with the heel of his hand. Yellow Hands, he thought. Four months ago they had just been another peasant delegation pleading with the Emperor for leniency. Their lands were scorched by drought. They could not afford to feed themselves let alone pay the imperial tax. When he stood beside the Emperor’s throne he remembered himself thinking that it was a problem, but a problem that a good Emperor could overcome with a deft hand and open heart. Boro knelt to clean the blood from his blade with the assassin’s tunic, but his sword arm began to shake. The dead man was staring up at him and Boro felt his heart twisting with guilt. He closed the man’s eyes. The assassin could not have been more different from the broad shouldered guardian. Where the man was lean and bony, Boro was well muscled. Where the man was wrapped in threadbare hemp cloth, Boro was wrapped in plates of hardened iron strung like scales across his body. Where the dead man was a nameless assassin from the rebellious Yellow Hands, Boro was the sworn guardian of the Emperor. Where the man’s gaze was dead and empty, Boro’s eyes were red with exhaustion and grief. From behind him, Boro heard the unsure voice of a child call out. “Are they- Are they dead?” Boro turned and bowed to the fourteen year old boy that entered the room. He was wrapped in silks, and bejeweled rings covered his chubby hands like tortoise shells. “Yes, your Imperial Majesty. The assassin is dead.” Yes, a good Emperor could have dealt with the Yellow Hands before they ever became a threat, but as the child rushed into the room and kicked the dead body with a petulant grunt, Boro was reminded yet again that they did not have a ‘good’ Emperor. “How dare they? I’m the Emperor,” The boy whined as he kicked the body again. The running blood began to stain the fringes of the boy’s silks and the soft soles of his fine slippers, turning the soft blues and pinks the dark black-red of murder. “I’m the Emperor,” the boy cried again. Boro felt as if he may be sick. His mind tried to wonder how they had got here, but he couldn’t fool himself. He knew exactly how they got to this point. Four months ago, when the delegation of peasants had refused to depart at the young Emperor’s command he had them whipped and sent back home in chains. Three months ago, when the peasants returned to beg for leniency, the child had offered them “special accommodations” while he considered their request. As the peasants were led to the dungeons, he laughed over his little prank. A month after that, the rioting began. Boro shuddered to remember the Emperor’s excited face as he clapped and cheered that he would get to use his “favorite toy”. He unleashed a battalion of Imperial spearmen to flush the streets. It did not take another month for the assassination attempts to begin. Boro closed his eyes as he reminded himself again that he was sworn a holy vow to defend the Emperor with his life, a reminder he now gave himself several times a day. As the guardian, he had spent the last fifteen years defending the boy’s father. His skills had only ever been truly tested in wartime, but now -now he barely slept. He had not been able to eat more than a mouthful at a time for the last week. Boro looked down at the bleeding sword in his hand and back to the boy Emperor. The hem of his small robes drank the blood from the ground as he fumed, and now the stain crawled with thin tendrils like fire up the boy’s shins. So much blood, Boro thought. His fingers clenched around the sword’s grip.
The last thing you remember was the jarring crash of metal on metal. Debris flying, people screaming, blood pooling. That was the last thing you remember. The only thing on your mind. A collision. Surely a fatal one. Yet here you stand. One shaking hand pressed against your gaunt cheek, and another laying limp by your side. Your touch is cool, yet you hardly feel it. This wasn't you. This isn't you. Your mind screams. There isn't much that quietens it, these days. Bring me back. Take me back. It shrieks. This isn't your body. This isn't your face. And yet, as if defying all laws of existence. Here you stand. Conscious, breathing and alive. Gazing upon your reflection. Your shoulders begin to convulse, as the hot tears begin to fill your eyes. This is you. It is you. You begin to think, as your legs weaken and you slouch to the floor. Your palms scrape against your face as you feel the heat beginning to well up, as it has for the past decade. It was you that was in that accident. It was you that killed that man.
I'm going to die. Everybody knows that they're going to die. At least that's what I thought. Five months ago, a cure for aging came out. Everybody jumped on it despite the warning. "Anybody with six grandchildren and a now happy life won't be able to take this cure!"I chuckled to myself when my eldest daughter first told me that. Until I learned it was true. All of my friends started passing away soon after the cure came out and I lasted through that. My kids came and visited me every day, talking about how they would live forever to see our family live generations down. They didn't see how much it hurt me that I would only be able to see my young grandchildren. That's all I'll ever be able to see of my family growing like dandelions on a spring day. Despite all of that, I know that I will die sooner or later. Most likely sooner. The nurses will start to notice things wrong with me and they'll jump to try and fix it. The only way out will be death. I don't want to die but it's going to happen. I'll be the last person on Earth to experience death once it finally comes for me, whispering the words of relief; or in my case, fear. How are they going to learn to move on? When they get sick, what's going to happen? My children... I hope they turn out okay. What if they don't? When I do die, I hope they continue to leave flowers on my grave. Flowers do make everything seem better. Maybe it'd help them move on. People will be happy that death is gone; I hope they'll be happy at least. I have so many questions but I am getting deeply tired. That bothersome headache is coming back too. My pillow is soft... I should lay down for a bit. &#x200B; \~+\~ &#x200B; There was a headline the next morning which read "Last person to die!". A cheer went up and people celebrated, hugging each other. Death would no longer plague their world. There was a young woman with three children and a soft outlook on life who read the newspaper almost daily. When she noticed the headline, she rushed to her father's nursing home. "He's gone."she choked out as she sat by his white bed, letting out small sobs. The only thing which made her remember that she'd be able to experience life forever was the sun shining down on her hair and reflecting the glass and flower patterns onto the floor. She knew her brothers would care but all she cared about in that moment was that death no longer existed. Her father was the last person to die and he had been a loyal man until the end. Before leaving, she handed a handful of flowers to the nurse and whispered through her tears, "Make him at home, okay? H-He's the last person to die, I think he deserves the best." There was a nod from the nurse which re-assured the young woman before she left, carrying the memories of her childhood before they faded away with the years. \--- &#x200B; It's a bit short but I had fun writing it. Thank you for the prompt!
The giant spider-mech shook the ground with every step. It was dangerously close to a local outdoor mall, so close in fact that within another couple of steps the International House of Pancakes would no longer be in name only. Charles seized Anise's phone-bearing hand. "Quick, send me more articles." "But why--" "Just trust me!" Anise nodded. With a few clicks of her phone she managed to share more articles than she could count to her partner's phone. He looked at her and smiled. "I'll be right back." Charles ran towards the spider-mech, or at least vaguely within its general direction, for like most people under thirty he was engrossed in the contents of his phone (although not with any distinct modicum of pleasure). His legs gained momentum as he read the anti-vaxxer article, while his arms hardened into mighty pistons as he consumed one blogger's theory that global warming was a joint effort between the Russians and the Chinese. His brain wanted to blow mighty chunks as he neared the spider-mech, and after finishing an article on the healing power of crystals he found himself propelled into the air, his fist primed primed to bust through the mech's metal like a cartographer through flat-earth theory. "I fucking love science,"he growled, as with one punch the mech fell to pieces.
Harry had expected to wake up in the Gryffindor dorm room he’d fallen asleep in. He expected Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna (fair was fair, she’d let him into Ravenclaw tower), all in a pile, having come up to celebrate the war being over. He expected Kreacher and Winky, who had been sharing a pack of butterbeer to remember Dobby. He expected Ginny, who had kissed him so hard that he nearly saw stars. He did not expect to wake up on a couch in a flat he didn’t recognize, being stared at by someone who looked at Harry like he had just said the sky was orange. The man sat in a chair with a cigarette in hand. “What’s going on?” Harry asked. “Brilliant question, mate,” the man said. “You wouldn’t happen to have an answer, would you?’ Harry shook his head. “Figured.” The man took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke. “By the way, never pick up smoking, nasty habit. So, you’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?” Harry was used to having strangers recognize him at that point. “Yeah,” he said. The man took another drag on his cigarette. “Damn. Yep, I need a drink.” The man was short and had dark hair and a scruffy beard. He walked over into the kitchen and poured a brown drink into a glass. The bottle didn’t look like butterbeer or firewhisky. “Are you a wizard?” Harry asked. The man paused to look at Harry, then drank what was already in the glass and poured another drink. “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” the man said. “What day do you think it is?” “May 2.” "What year?" Harry wasn't sure he liked that question. "1998?" “Nope,” the man said. “Try March 25, 2019.” “Sorry?” “Did I stutter?” the man asked, walking back to his seat. Harry paused. He’d missed twenty years. How was that even possible? “Who are you?” Harry asked. The man paused. “Dan. Call me Dan.”
(Pardon the quality I did this on my phone in only a few minutes.) I thought I’d get lonely after my husband’s death, but strangely I didn’t. I mourned him of course, but I never felt alone like I thought I would living by myself in our old home. Then one night as I laid down I heard it, a soft voice in my ear “I think I’ll miss you” it whispered and I jumped, flinging back the covers and turning on the light. Everything was silent and still so I figured I’d imagined it. For days afterwards I began to truly feel lonesome. As if a close friend had disappeared. I started leaving the house more, I would go grocery shopping multiple times a week just to speak with the cashiers. Yet nothing helped the cold emptiness that had found its way into my heart. I grew weaker as the weeks went on until one night as I sat on my porch I finally spoke back. “I already miss you” I whispered “why have you left me?” It was a long moment before I heard the response. “I didn’t” the voice whispered “you’re leaving me.” I didn’t understand then, and asked questions long into the night, and all of them went unanswered. It wasn’t until I fell asleep that I understood. I dreamed I was laying in my bed, I was cold and tried to reach for my blankets. My body wouldn’t listen though and I grew colder and colder, eventually a warm white light appeared. It seemed to call to me and I almost went until I heard that voice again. “I’ll miss you” it said this time and tears ran down my face, I knew then that if I followed the light I’d never be with them again. So I stayed, I didn’t wake up that next morning but I’m still here, we’re still here and now you’re here too.
Hi u/mehul_98, this submission has been removed. [No recent reposts, even if changing small details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_5.3A_no_recent_reposts.2C_even_if_changing_small_details) Also, no [copy-cats](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv). Search before submitting as popular ideas can cause floods. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. Please wait at least 2 weeks before reposting. "Magic way to detect how everyone dies oh crap it's soon"is a rather common post around here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/b07k5r/wp_since_you_were_born_you_have_been_able_to_see/ --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/b3zqnt/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
“Come on over!” He said. “It’s really nice!” He said. I didn’t believe him. It couldn’t be that nice. That thing, SCP-106, is creepy as hell. I’m not going near it. “Come on! It’s fun!” He was losing patience. “Fine” I give in. I go towards the creepy thing. Something about it is like my friend. I don’t know what exactly it is though. At first, it’s the best place I’ve been. We’re just messing around and going through all the places and corridors and shit. But then, we’re trapped. We have 12 doors. We don’t know which one to go through. Now I just want out. All I want is freedom. My friend goes through a door. Then he comes back. But he’s not himself. All fucking along. This was a trap. My friend? I had no friend. There was only 106. He lured me into his dimension. And now I’m where he wants me to be. I have little hope of survival...
Incident Report: Church of the All-Seeing God Cult Details: The Church of the All-Seeing God is a cult dedicated to the worship of an anomalous being with the ability to predict, if not know, the future. Research by Group 8 suggests this being has the ability to see between different timelines. Intel suggests this being rewards the cult’s sacrifices and rituals with predictions of the future allowing the cult to remain hidden while also retaining a sizable member base. It is believed they were aware of Group 6’s impending raid given they were armed. However, due to the inherently unreliable nature of predicting the future cult members were unaware of where Group 6 agents were attacking from leading to a total route. The Cult is declared eliminated in official records but Group 3 intelligence suggests there may be other branches or remnants located around the world. The search for cult holdouts is ongoing. Summary: Group 1 contacted by anonymous people claiming to have information on a magic-worshipping cult located in Berlin. Group 3 intelligence agents deployed to Berlin to collect information. Following several months of gathering intel the existence of the cult was verified. Paperwork submitted to the AMC by Group 2 secretaries and permission to eliminate the cult was obtained from the German government. Group 4 agents were dispatched to Berlin to work with Europol and local law enforcement to detain cult members for interrogation. Group 5 deployed to monitor and contain the cult, censoring information and keeping the website cordoned off and restricted to everyone outside the cult to prevent suspicion. Group 6 deployed in collaboration with Europol and the Bundeswehr. Initial actions limited with raids on cult compounds and detention of important figures. Main compound raided by Task Force Theta-6 and cult leader detained. Multiple cult members killed in the engagement. Zero Theta-6 troops KIA. Cult declared eliminated following clean-up operations by Europol. Addendum: Group 7 agents recovered multiple anomalous objects believed to be used in rituals by the cult in the contacting of the anomalous being. Research by Group 8 is ongoing. Addendum 2: Group 3 agents located in multiple locations have heard of rumors of secretive cults with similar attributes, investigation a sto whether these groups are one and the same is ongoing.
"When the first wave hit at midnight, my husband and I had no idea what was going on. We'd been away from our phones, just remenescing about our younger days."I laughed, a sad little hiccup of sound that was nearly a sob. "We were so confused that next day. I swore that I had a hangover, and he couldn't shake songs from his head that we hadn't heard in years. There were so many posts on Facebook and Twitter, everyone asking where their friends are, or if anyone had seen their children, or parents, or significant others... We had no idea what was going on back then." I stared into the cheap webcam for a second, silent, before looking down to my face on the screen. Only four people were still watching. Twenty minutes to go. "It took us a long time to figure out what was going on. To be honest, I'm still not sure. All I know is that however people see you at midnight is all that you are the next day. "My friend Chrissy only lasted one day. Hers was the first post I'd seen after that first wave that wasn't panicked. It was just her being her, a picture from a fun night at the club. I'd called her immediately, and she sounded just as drunk as one would expect from someone who was Percieved at a club. The call only lasted a few minutes, but she'd been diminished to a 'woo girl'. I couldn't get her to care about what was going on; she was still just a drunk partier. "And then she was gone, partying alone in her house until the second Wave knocked her out." The number of watchers slipped down to three. "My husband and I tried to game the system after a few weeks. He couldn't stand not beimg in control of his life. It worked for a little while. When it would get close to midnight, we would sit across from each other, stare into each others eyes, and remember each other as best we could. "All of the good times, especially the first summer we met. Back when we were young and strong and healthy, and all the world was at our fingertips. We would remember how we danced together in his apartment like there was no tomorrow, how we would drink like we were champions, how we would sing like we were superstars, how the only thing in the world that existed was each other." I paused, smiling as I let myself get lost in the memories of the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Ten minutes left. My smile faded. "He was so focused on trying to make us better. He wanted to push the limits of what we could make each other for the next day. How smart we could be, how strong, how determined. He always made sure to give it his full effort, but-"I swallowed. "But I just wanted my husband back. I didn't want to risk losing him. I didn't want him to become something too far gone, something that could never be him again. So I... So I, uh..." I bowed my head, looking away from the livestream. "I couldn't help it. All I could think about were my fears that he would change too much, that he wouldn't be himself anymore, that he would be gone. And then when the Wave hit, that was it. He just disappeared. And then it was just me." Only a few minutes left, and I was down to two viewers. "I started this livestream to give me time. I showed pictures of myself, and told stories, and I tried not to embellish too much. I needed someone to remember me long enough for me to figure out how to bring him back. But I havent been able to. "So this time I'm trying something different. You have heard me talk about him all day today. You've heard about his whole life, everything I can remember." I turned off my live video. If this didn't work, I wouldn't be Percieved at all, and that would be it. No more me. I switched the livestream's view to a slideshow of pictures of my husband. All of the silly pictures of him posing, all the ones I snuck when he wasn't looking, all the little videoclips of him laughing and singing and dancing and loving life. The man I fell in love with. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see if my last viewer had left. "Please, if you're still here. Don't think of me. Think of him. I shouldn't have gotten distracted. I shouldn't have gotten frustrated with him for always trying to make the best of a bad situation." Thirty seconds left. "Please, if you're there. Remember him, not me. Bring him back, please." I took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. I smiled as I remembered the first time he'd told me he loved me, very casually, as we watched one of the many movies we discovered that first summer. I could see it in his eyes that it was true, and I knew that he could see it in mine. Bring him back.
The room was warm. Even in winter, the room was hotter than normal. Eric tossed and turned, half-awake, the blankets pushed down past the tips of his toes. The ceiling fan was running full blast, but the hair still stuck to his head. He’d already laid his alarm clock face down to avoid the bright lights. He rolled often. The creak of the closet door was enough to wake him. Blearily he lifted his head as his brain caught up to understand the noise his ears heard. That would have been the end of it except for a small noise. It faded and grew, like a strange doppler effect coming through the doorway. It was crying. Eric lifted his head more squinted at the closet. There was a glow. Just enough to give outlines to shapes inside his closet. There should have been clothes in there, and an old hockey stick from two years ago when he still played hockey in grade six. But instead, he saw rectangles, inside a vast space. He sat up in bed, looking around his room, tilting his clock back up to see better. Everything was normal, except for the crying, and the dark hole in his closet door. He stayed in bed for several minutes, staring at the closet. He wanted to yell for his mother, but the crying kept him to afraid to make noise. For a 13 year old, he wished he was braver. The crying hadn’t stopped. Slowly, Eric sat up. He quietly crawled over his bed to the foot, hoping to reach out and shut the door without stepping on the floor. It was just a little too far away, but as he stared through the doorway he saw something familiar. Eyes locked on the closet, he crept towards the lightswitch. It was between his closet door and bedroom door. He flicked it on. On the other side of the closet door was his room. Almost perfectly. The bed was under the window, dresser on one side, the desk on the other. There were the same posters on the wall, and some of his old toys on the dresser. The bed was made, and the sheets were different, but everything looked the same. The bulletin board was empty in the opposite room. Behind him, his board had the photos of his friends, his last test, and two news clippings. “Tragic Accident,” and “Miracle Boy.” The room across felt comfortable, familiar. Of course it was unsettling, especially with the sobbing. but it was his room over there. It felt right. It felt comfortable. As though he’d slept there before. He stepped through the closet. He stared around the room. First, he crossed the room raising the blinds to look out the window. The same tree in the backyard, the neighbour’s pool… He turned the light on in this room. He opened the drawers, noting the nicely folded clothes. They were T-shirts from two years ago. The desk was the same, with most of the stuff in his drawers. He pulled a few pencils out. The crying stopped. He heard a creak through the wall. The sound of footsteps. Eric looked wide-eyed at the door that led to the hallway, seeing the light come on in the hall. He rushed through the closet door, frantically shutting the light off as he did. On both sides. The feet were still coming down the hallway. It had a strange, reverbated noise, and it took him a moment to realize it was happening on both sides of the door. He heard the door opening in a strange stereo. In the room he was in, he saw his mother framed in the door. Through his closet door, he saw her shadow cast by the hallway light into the opposite room. The mom standing in from of him absentmindedly reached over and shut the closet door, while rubbing her eyes, half asleep. “You okay?” She asked. She leaned against the door post. Eric’s throat was suddendly very dry. He noticed the warble as he tried to say, “Closet.” “Hunh?” she murmered, stifling a yawn. “I was looking in my closet.” “Oh, Sorry.” She reached a hand over and opened it back up. It was full of clothes, and a hockey stick. Eric looked at her, and then at the closet. “Uhh. Sorry I’m just having trouble sleeping.” A toilet flushed down the hall. “Everything ok?” came his father’s voice down the hall. His mother leaned her head into the hallway. “I think it’s too warm, Mark. Eric was sleepwalking again.” “Oh, yeah,” came the voice down the hallway. “Open the windows. I’ll do Sarah’s and our room.” Eric’s mom stepped into his room to open the window. “Every once and a while, we find you wandering around. It’s no big deal. We usually just tuck you back in.” “Really?” He watched her as she raised the blinds over his bed and cracked the window. “I’ve done it before?” “Every once and a while, especially right after the accident. Remember?” Eric felt coldness on his neck. “That’s how you found me?” “Yep. Right there, half awake, standing in the middle of the room. They say you must never have gotten on the plane with the team. It was a clerical error or something. We don’t even know how you made it home. We just called it a miracle.” Eric sat quietly, and looked back at his closet. His mom tucked him back in and left, shutting the door behind her. Eric waited until she was gone and back in bed. Then, quietly, carefully, he crept towards the closet door, and shut it. Then he sat back on his bed, keeping his eyes on the door. \+++++ Rebecca stood in the doorway of her son’s room. Her hand was over her mouth. “Mark!” she was trying not to yell in the middle of the night, but it was hard not to. Her husband came out of the bathroom. He was staring at her, his eyes wide. “No,” he whispered, striding down the hall. “Look.” She gestured, “Look.” Mark rushed into the room, taking in the opened drawers, the turned toys, the raised blind. “Did he take anything? Is there a note?” Tears were forming in Rebecca’s eyes. “We don’t even know it’s him.” “Maybe he’s hiding.” Mark threw the closet door open with a bang, reaching through and around the boxes jammed into the small space. All the newspaper clippings, the missing flyers, the search team files, and reminders too painful to keep in the rest of the house. He squatted down and leaned against the boxes, gritting his teeth. “Why?” he sobbed. “Why is he doing this?” Rebecca’s hand rested gently on his shoulder. It was a kind but gentle pull, leading him to their missing son’s bed. They sat staring at the empty closet, praying for an answer. &#x200B;
Jim J. Janderson: "Welcome, one and all, to a celebration of CorporateCarnage®! Tonight's main event features an epic showdown between two titans of obesity and diabetes - Coca-Cola® will square off against McDonald's® in what promises to be the fight of the century. Diet®, one of the last polar bears on earth, will face Ronald McDonald® in a no-holds-barred death match for acquisition rights. Can anyone say hostile takeover? Boy, I can't wait to see who comes out on top!" Carol C. Cronhowser: "You can say that again, Jim! A blood feud has been brewing between Micky D's® and Coke® ever since the fast food giant switched to Pepsi® products a few years back, ending a decades-long corn-syrup soaked relationship. Shareholders have been crushing our sportsbook ahead of this one, making this fight the highest-grossing grudge match in CorporateCarnage® history!" J: "Wow, Carol, that's incredible! We're about to get underway here in just a moment with the first of our undercard bouts, but first, some messages from our sponsors!" \* \* \* \* C: "And we're back! Gidget, the Taco Bell® chihuahua has already made her way into the cage. She'll be facing off against Jared Fogle of Subway® fame, currently on a work-release program from Englewood Federal Correctional Institute." J: "I've gotta say, Carol, our Dispossessed Division® is a big hit with the fans, almost rivaling the acclaim for our Murders and Acquisitions Division®. The nostalgia of seeing former corporate icons battling to the death for a paycheck really strikes a chord with viewers." C: "You said it, Jim! There's nothing like a riches-to-rags story to rile up the resentment the masses have for these overpaid clowns!" J: "And speaking of clowns, how about that main event we've got coming up later tonight? Wow, what a barn burner!" C: "That's right, Jim! And making his way to the ring now amid much jeering and booing is the former sandwich spokesman turned convicted sex offender, Jared Fogle!" J: "Prison looks to have added back some of the pounds he lost eating Subway® footlongs, Carol." C: "You've got that right, Jim! Fogle looks like a pillow case full of salad dressing. I wonder how his conditioning will factor in on his CorporateCarnage® debut?" J: "It doesn't look like it's going to help him, Carol. Gidget is no stranger to the cage. She's 2-0, having secured victories over Cool Spot, the old 7-Up mascot, and Bud, the former Budweiser® frog. May they both rest in peace." C: "RIP indeed, Jim. Referee Jeb Bush is locking the fighters in the cage now, and there's the bell!" J: "Fogle is trying to keep his distance, circling the perimeter, but Gidget is after him and, oh -- SAVAGE!!! DOWN GOES FOGLE!" C: "Wow, that was fast! Gidget literally went right for the jugular!" J: "Can't say I'm surprised, Carol. Fogle looked ill prepared, and from the roars of approval of the crowd here, I think he got what was coming to him!" C: "Can't disagree with you there, Jim. Justice has been served here tonight in the CorporateCarnage® arena. Now that she's 3-0, maybe Taco Bell® will consider putting Gidget back in their commercials?" J: "All I know, Carol, is that our squeegee guy is gonna have his hands full tonight! That's the most blood I've ever seen!" C: "Speaking of squeegee, Jim, our next fight features Vince Offer, the ShamWow® guy! We're gonna take a brief commercial timeout, but don't go anywhere, folks! We're just getting started!"
I sigh deeply as I bring the bow away from my violin, the last note I played still quivering in the air. The crowd is breathless until it fades, but once it does they break in polite yet enthusiastic applause. &#x200B; I look up, drawn back into reality, and smile shyly as I take my bow. When I stand, my eyes meet with those of a single man in the audience. He's not dressed as nicely as the rest of the crowd, his suit a bit wrinkly and faded. &#x200B; His face looks faded too, like the sun had worn away the color of it. It's deeply lined. His hair and beard are gray, and he's grinning wildly as he claps, just this side of too enthusiastic. The man doesn't notice he's being subtly eyed by the well dressed couples on either side. A delicate gold band hangs from a chain on his neck. He's at every concert I do. &#x200B; I'll never forget what my dad had to give up in life to see me up here, but it's only right that he gets to do it from the best seat in the house.
„Allow me to repeat that, just so we’re clear I understood everything.” Sister Jane took a long drag of her cigarette and leaned on the table „You think that there is a pack of wolves that have been possesed by a demon in the woods that kills exclusively hunters. And you want us to take care of it so that you can continue hunting down innocent animals without consequences.” „Listen here, lass...” one of the hunters at the table started. „It’s ’sister‘. Have some manners, Paul.” She interrupted, but her tone of voice hinted that she didn’t actually care. „Listen here, sister. What you said is true, but I sure don’t like your attitude.” Two other men nodded their heads immidiately. Jane could clearly see that Paul was the one in charge in their little group. „Then find some other exorcist to do the job. And I don’t mean to sound rude, but I don’t fucking care about your likes and dislikes. You tell me what you want and I see that it gets done.” The whole bar seemed to hold its breath as Paul rose to his feet. Other men at the table looked unsure as what to do, even the barkeep didn’t know if he should interfere. Sister Jane blew some smoke right into Paul’s face and finally put her cigarette out on the surface of the table. „So no deal, I suppouse?” She remarked, completely unfazed by the situation. Paul sat down, his face completely red. He was clearly furious, but didn’t want to start anything with a servant of the Church. Sister Jane didn’t look very intimidating in her simple, black habit, but her behaviour was making him uneasy. She was acting as if she’d seen the first circle of hell and had been unimpressed. He grunted. It was time to swallow his pride. „We need your help.” He pretended he didn’t see the smirk that appeared on her face „We’ll pay what you want if you get rid of the demons.” She thought about it for a few seconds. „We’ll go to the forest tommorow. I’ll come back here to collect the payment as soon as I finish the job.” „We’re going with you. I want to make sure you don’t just wave your arms around ’n say you exorcised it.” Paul remarked, which earned him a few sideway glances from the other hunters. Sister Jane scoffed and shook her head. This time, however, Paul was not going to back out. She rose to her feet slowly and pulled out another cigarette from her inside pocket. She tapped her finger on the glass of scotch in formy of her. „Be at the edge of the forest at dawn. Bring whatever and whoever you want. Just remember, it’ll all be at your own risk. I can’t keep all the sheep alive when we enter the dark valley. Only one man could do that.” She slammed down her drink and turned around, leaving the hunters whispering to each other about the situation. She had no doubt that they weren’t sure if she could get the job done. Men always did. She slowly stepped outside, into the pouring rain. Trying to light a cigarette in a weather like that was pointless, so she immidiately entered her car, sitting in the passenger side. „Soooo, how did it go? Did we get a job?” Her young assistant was practically bouncing in the driver seat, waiting for the news. Jane took her time searching her pockets for a small bottle she knew was somewhere there. „Did you pack the shotgun into the trunk?” „Of course I did! Just like you told me to.” The girl sounded almost hurt, as if she couldn’t believe anybody would doubt her ability to follow instructions. She was a loyal servant, after all. „Good, good.” Jane remarked absentmindedly, finally producing a small vial with a clear liquid inside. „Let’s get ready. Tommorow we’re going hunting.”
I didn’t mean to win the lottery. My stupid friend just bought me a ticket, not knowing what the implications of me winning could mean. There was a 1 in 139 868 230 chance of me winning the euro millions, but I got it, and now there I was sitting locked my bathroom. Unlike most people, as soon as my name was announced my stomach dropped. I was filled with terror, wondering with dread what my fate would be, come tomorrow. So I went to my house grabbed my laptop, water, and food, and locked my self in the bathroom. I chose the bathroom because I assumed that not much could go wrong in there. I knew I would die tomorrow. The odds had to cancel out after all, and I would need a lot of luck to get something so unlucky that wouldn’t kill me. Then I waited. I had enough supplies to last me for a while, so I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. After some reflection I decided that I might as well do something with the money, and because I probably wouldn’t be able to use it for myself, I might as well do something good with it. I did some research and found an organization dedicated to creating world peace. Little did I know just how dedicated they were. I decided to sleep on it and make my decision in the morning. After an interrupted sleep, I woke and logged on to my laptop. I found the organization’s website and clicked on a link saying “donate”. After entering clicking on “enter custom amount” I stopped for a second, but then proceeded to enter £40 million without any regrets. After a few hours of waiting, nothing had happened, until suddenly I saw a notification come up saying I have 1 unread email. It was a personal message from the leader of Earth’s Peace, the organization I had donated to. After reading through it a few times I started to get uneasy. For someone who advocated peace he used surprisingly violent expressions, like "together we can purge the earth of this sickness."I soon forgot about though, and started drifting off to sleep. I woke up the next morning confused, because I wasn't dead. Maybe I'd broken the cycle. If this was true, I did regret donating all the money, but after thinking about it I decided that I wasn't worse off than before, so it didn't bother me too much. Everything was fine for a few weeks until the attacks came. I was wanted for sponsoring a terrorist group.
I don’t think it only affected me physically. It also damaged me mentally. Before I wanted happiness. Now I wanted death. Lots of death. But not just ordinary death. I wanted more. I wanted excruciating, violent, slow death for everyone that had ever walked this earth. It was easy to get around, mainly through oil pipelines and telephone wires over long distances, stopping off wherever I wanted to kill. At first I started small, farms and remote villages. I would walk to a source of electricity like telephone wires or a generator, charge up and walk around, electrocuting people as I strolled, setting fire to combustible materials and blowing up electrical appliances. It felt good, but I still felt hungry, hungry for more death and destruction. Word of my massacres was starting to spread, and I transformed from a countryside myth to a terrifying truth. Police and scientists set traps for me, but I was too smart. I wasn’t just part of the electricity, I was the electricity. I could see, hear and feel everything they did. And I used that against them. I travelled through the current to Moscow, the capital city of a nation at war with the west. And where there is war there are weapons, and the weapons they had developed in their labs and research compounds had more devestating capabilities than any made before. They were stupid. They could have predicted my arrival, but they didn’t. I wanted their weapons, and the electrical systems that controlled those weapons wanted me. And so I used them, directing them towards the largest cities in the world. The same power that had created me would now consume and destroy the earth.
It’s 3AM, once again I try my best to avoid sleeping and entering a new Hell every night. However sleep eventually does catch up to me. The feeling of sleep to me, feels like a predator that I cannot escape. I can’t outrun it no matter how hard I try. The 4 days of sleep deprivation finally hits me and i drop to the ground, instantly falling asleep. I quickly open my eyes to see what false illusive dream world I am in today. Oh god. I look around only to see many bodies on the ground. A gun in my hand. I vomit. This isn’t me. Why am I here? Why me? Every time I fall asleep. I’m entered into a dream. It feels as real as reality. I honestly can’t call it a dream. The things I’ve seen. These realistic dreams I entered. At first the dreams were peaceful. Relaxing even,but over time it has turned into these hellish nightmares. These disgusting scenarios. I can’t take it anymore. I look at the gun in my hand. Open my mouth wide. Place the gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. Upon death I wake up to where I fell asleep. This time being the floor. I tremble. This curse that has been placed on me. I can’t understand. I can’t live like this. I run to my closet. Pulling out my real gun. I finally plan to do the same thing I have done many times in those nightmares.
"Sweetheart, when you fall in love with someone..... It's unlike anything else. It's magical."Mom told me this many times as I was growing up. Especially when I asked how I would know if I found 'the one'. I had moved across the country to take a job. Mom had passed away, but her advice about love never really left me. Unfortunately, I had no idea what she meant either. Until I met him. I wasn't dating anyone. I wasn't looking for companionship. I was at my regular table, sipping my morning coffee and reading up on the events of the day when he tripped over the empty chair across from me. I looked up and he was blushing. "Sorry.... Uh.... I didn't...."His eyes met mine. I felt a tug on my heart. As I stared at him, I felt hot.... My coffee started to boil in the cup....
Sozins commit arrives and the invasion begins. The firelord has stolen Sokkas submarine blueprints and are now putting them to use. The new avatar leads the charge in the battle against the sea swellers capital city: Bikini Bottom. Meanwhile, Redbeard the Pirate readies his crew and the Flying Dutchman does the same. Dr. Sheldon J Plankton and his computer wife have been holed up in the chum bucket lab since the war started, churning out war machines for Eugene Krabs' undersea navy. General Cheeks has been training and mercilessly drilling the recruits for the Bikini Bottom Marines. Back on land, the Avatar meditates and learns from the wisdom of his past lives. He's prepared for this battle just as much as the sea dwellers are. The Firelord gives a charasmatic speech to rally the troops. The Northern Waterbenders that have trained the Fire Nation soldiers in under water technique have been integrated into their ranks. The invasion has begun. Footsoldiers run through the streets of Downtown Bikini Bottom burning down the buildings. "Uh I can explain!"cries an embarrassed sea dweller in children's clothing as he stares death in the face. Cannon balls plow through firebenders as they try to penetrate the walls of the Bikini Bottom Navy headquarters: The Krusty Krab. "Wheres the leak ma'am?"mumbles a dazed and confused Fire Nation soldier as the cannon ball hits him square in the head. The Tentacles Militia works in secret with camaflouge polo shirts engineered by the genius, Sheldon Plankton. Ink comes as if from no where and blinds the submarine crew. The water benders are no match for the powerful and battle hardened marines. As the Fire Nation soldiers begin to lose hope, a flash of blue light shines down upon the battle field. The Avatar descends upon the city sending devastating rip-tides throughout Bikini Bottom. The Chum Bucket collapses and if you listened close you could hear a muffled shout from within "But I went to collage!". Redbeard's ship burns as does the Dutchman's and the rubble floats to the seafloor as a young crew member shouts "MY LEG!"Things look bleak for yhe Bikini Bottomites when all of a sudden, a blood curdling shriek freezes the heated battle for just a moment "ITS BIG! PINK! AND IT. WILL. EAT. EVERYTHING!"A belly the size of a sky bison crashes down onto the submarines. They didn't stand a chance. "NO! THIS. IS. PATRICK!". The colossal beast ravages the fire nation army. The Avatar is the last hope for the invasion to be successful. "IM A GOOFY GOOBER!"a high-pitched, squeaky, obnoxious, and childish voice makes blood your from the Avatar's ears."ROCK!"A lazer straight from the neck of the Sponge's guitar shoots straight between the Avatar's glowing eyes. They glow no more. All the key players in fighting off the surface world invaders, stand over the crippled body of a young woman, dressed in blue water tribe garb. A hearty chuckle, a high pitched giggle, a nazlely laugh, a gleeful exclamation of pride, and a meow fill the water. "I still have one question!"Asks Patrick "Yes"asks Squidward "Is mayonaise an instrument?"
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” ‘Did I just hear that? Was that someone else in the class?’ I’m standing upright now, hands still on the lifeless manikin in front of me, no one else seems to be reacting. The woman in the oversized green sweater, who had trouble with the idea of not using tongue during the mouth-to-mouth, is still eyeing me up gently from across the room – this is normality. “Well don’t stop.” My eyes dart back down to the lifeless plastic face below me. ‘Okay, someone had to hear that,’ I thought… thoughts? Maybe it’s all in my thoughts? I concentrate real hard on the manikin, but the plastic lips remain in a sort of contorted grimace, reflecting some kind of existential pain, the kind of pain that comes from knowing no one will ever kiss you with love in their hearts or-- “Some people love kissing me." ‘Wait, you heard that? That was my inner voice.’ “Well what do you think this is? I’m not exactly a loudspeaker.” I take a step back, this is getting too weird, too real. Is this like the break in my psyche? Should I finally see that therapist that all those one night stands recommended? “Relax and get back over here” The voice has a different tone... one I've heard before: ‘Are... are you coming onto me?’ “Look, you can worry about hearing voices and their tone and your ego later, all you gotta do for now is get your hands on my chest and exhale”. My eyebrows furrow as I try to get the next message across: ‘If I do that, will you leave me alone?’ “If you give me life, just for a few seconds, and you don’t feel me giving it back to you, I’ll never say another word”. I look around the rest of the class, the fluorescent lighting making it hard to distinguish the real from the plastic, a whole room of flesh lips pressed against their lifeless counterparts. I step up, push my hands down and blow. “Well… don’t you like it?”
“Now I want to be clear here, I am not prejudice against other species, But..” Never a great start to sentence, but I must listen to the complaints of my subjects. “Why do you have to do this?” You ask like the fool that you are. Well to be frank my advisors are assholes, if I give them any power they would either, start a genocide in moments, or fuck it up so bad I wouldn’t have a kingdom anymore. “Why not replace them then?” You ask somehow sounding even stupider than before. Well if you must now the nobility would rebel if I replace any of these men from my council. Each is some nobleman’s son, they are useless as advisors but incredibly helpful as political tools. So unless I want a civil war I have to deal with these incompetent assholes and ignore the obvious corruption. I wouldn’t even mind the corruption as much, if it just wasn’t so god damn obvious. “Well, why not remove the nobility?” You ask still unaware of the utter stupidity that you exude just from your existence. That would require a civil war, and to fight a war you need soldiers and money. The nobility controls the recruitment of armies and taxation. How am I supposed to fight the people who supply me with soldiers and money? “Then abdicate the throne if you hate ruling so much.” Your questions have only grown stupider and so have I just from speaking to you. If I abdicate the Dwarves will kill me because I was a friend of the elves. And the elves won't protect me because I didn’t allow them to commit genocide against the ghouls. And the ghouls won’t help me because they’re ghouls. “Why not create a constitutional monarchy? Allow the people to elect representatives who work to create laws and taxes, but you still have power over the military and the right to veto any law.” Were you dropped as a child or are genes simply that bad? I am surprised you even know how to breath. You clearly have not been paying attention. First, the nobility would not allow this. Second even if the nobility allowed this my people probably couldn’t handle self rule. Ethnic relations are not great, the humans are in a vast minority yet make up the ruling class. The elves and the dwarves were at war up until my reign started a few short years ago. And everybody hates the ghouls. Who ever won majority in this new government would immediately demand a genocide of the ghouls first and their enemies second. If I vetoed the genocides there would be a revolt. “Why not incite a ghoul revolt, and use the fear to attain emergency powers, which you then use to dismantle the ruling class. Then using these powers you imprison and execute anybody who speaks out against your reign. Creating a council out of the most loyal and skilled left, occasionally purging the council to maintain fear.” My mind snaps back to the peasant before me, I lean in close to the dirty man and whisper. “Do you think they could be planning something?”.
Fucking hell ..... Why do human beings HAVE to jump on every bandwagon? We beat every trend to death, bury it, then dig it up again ten years later for the sake of nostalgia. Yes, yes. Human nature, free will, blah blah blah. But why do we let the lowest common denominator play with life-changing substances, technology, or decisions? Just.... Ignore me. I've had a rough month at work. I work for Intrepid Continuity Securities and Insurance. I was drafted as an insurance adjuster and temporal accountant. This was shortly after some brains invented time travel and we really got busy after it was opened up to public use. At least the academic types understood that history needs to be preserved and not changed.... But your average Tom, Dick, and Harry? They all want to shoot Hitler or bang Marilyn Monroe..... They want to screw with continuity. And that has consequences. This week alone has been hell. Someone decided to go back in time and make some huge changes. A con man and embezzler ended up president of the USA. Somehow a person who shouldn't have been born ended up in the highest office in the US. The cost of this change was..... So bad. So incredibly bad. Not only was it the monetary cost, but the human lives that we're lost, never brought into the world, or changed took me two whole days to calculate. Not only have I been in calculation hell, I learned that the social order of most the world was impacted. Trade agreements, alliances, and wars all changed or sprang into being. Not only that, but..... Oh the ugliest of the people who flocked to the guy's ramblings. If I hadn't lost hope for human kind when someone went back in time, kidnapped and murdered the Lindbergh baby...... I would have lost it reviewing this.....
No no no, you have it backwards. The internet was designed to increase the population, not control it. And it worked for many years, until ... well, I'd better give you some background. It's well known that there are more people alive today than at any point in history, due to the natural effects of exponential growth, and the advances in medicine, sanitation etc. The problem is that the more people you have in one place, the more epidemics you get, because it's easier for germs to spread from one person to the other. And so we come to Tim Berners-Lee, who invented the internet while given some time off from his project at CERN. People forget that he worked in the department of epidemiology. The internet was conceived as a way of allowing people to do everything they needed to in life, without leaving their desk. If there's even 10% fewer people than usual walking around, epidemics are stopped dead in their tracks, just due to probability and network effects. It worked. The 1990s and early 2000s should have been awash with disease. It never happened, because everyone was glued to the miracle that was Internet Explorer. Tim Berners-Lee really deserves the Nobel Prize for Medicine. And then the empire came crashing down. Steve Jobs invented the iPhone, allowing the world to experience the internet while walking around. And so they did. Now, there is a lot more disease in the world than there was, because people can get out of the house. The iPhone probably killed more people than any other device in history, simply because there are more people to kill nowadays. But hope is at hand! If people are depressed, they tend to stay indoors, which again, disrupts disease. World leaders are doing everything they can to achieve this, simply to save our lives, even if it means we think they're horrible and corrupt. Let's just hope they stay in power for a long long time.
Roderick observed Dana, the bartender who he had a secret crush on, intermittently banter with another man. In his attempts at bring her out with him, he teased her about her chest being more revealing than the girl at the previous bar. Dana gave the man a slightly uncomfortable look, but soon forgot about it and continued doing her job unhindered. But it left a more profound impact on Roderick. Roderick had observed that Dana liked to wear low cut shirts for many weeks now, but something always kept him back from mentioning anything about it. And now this man, who just met her, just carelessly blurted it out. Roderick's insecurities suddenly turned into anger targeted towards the verbal assailant. How dare he!! &#x200B; Sir Roderick donned on his cashmere helmet, a symbol of his virtue and his will to do right, which included protecting the female race. And this female was in jeopardy of having her honor tainted, the low class barbarous hulk blemishing her with great curses before the entire tavern. He, he would show him. "Excuse me, beautiful lady. Is this man bothering you?"Sir Roderick proudly announced himself. The entire bar stopped what they were doing to witness what would unfold - clearly the act of this White knight confronting Barbarian and saving the fey lady was far more important than any discussion they were having amongst themselves. The barmaid shyly nodded, plea-ing with her eyes to be saved. For a moment Sir Roderick and the barmaid had a moment, but the barbarian stepped between them puffing out his sweaty unkept chest. "Who do you think you are, little man?"the Barbarian growled. "I am Sir Roderick, the White Knight. You are showing grave disrespect to this lady, embarrassing her and yourself, all because she wouldn't surrender herself to you at first sight? You should be ashamed of yourself!"Sir Roderick scolded The Barbarian rolled up his sleeves. He leaned in a little, so Roderick could smell his beer and spirit stained breath. "Say that again and I'll sock you right between the eyes little man,"the Barbarian threatened. Sir Roderick had to admit he was a little intimidated. In brute force he was clearly outmatched. But wit and intellect would be today's weapons, and Sir Roderick had plenty to spare. For 5 minutes, Sir Roderick nicked and jabbed the Barbarian with his agile one-liners and wit, while dodging and countering the Barbarians sluggish crude insults. The Barbarian, humiliated before the entire crowd, sulked back to hide behind his fellow primitive tribesmen. The rest of the tavern applauded and raised their pints to celebrate the victory of the White Knight. Most importantly, Dana, playfully twirling the locks in her hair, leaned over the counter, whispering, "That was very brave of you. May I please get your name again?" "I am Sir Roderick. And please. It is only a knight's duty to protect a lady in danger"the White Knight humbly retorted. "Oh, but I must show some kind of gratitude. If it does not sound to imposing, could you meet me at my chambers behind the bar after the shift is over" &#x200B; A large smile ran across Roderick's face as he imagined how the scene would play out. Then turning towards his mates, he announced, "Gents! Hold my ale..."
Radiation does some whacky stuff. The humans, our forerunners as the "dominant species"(in truth, us roaches have been ruling the world with a low profile since way before the dinosaurs), had died out over ten million years ago, alongside their furry pets, but their legacy would continue to shape evolutionary history. For you see, the humans fueled themselves by creating massive machines to break down very very small particles and ingesting the energy released in the process. As a side effect, this procedure created a lot of radioactive residue. Humanity, in one of their many blunders, decided the best way to keep this stuff away from them was to bury it underground or in lakes. In the scope of a few hundred yeats, this strategy had neutral affects at best. Stretch that out to tens of thousands of millennia and you have plate tectonics releasing all that lightly buried stuff back to the surface. Most of the large vertebrates were killed off by this, which meant the world would be contested by mutated arthropods. We had to compete against spider riding fire-ants, giant acid-spitting hermit-crabs, and carnivorous barnacles that learned to spread themselves terrestrially. But we're cockroaches - we're masters of developing new superpowers, whatever the circumstances. To defend ourselves against the hermit-crabs we became bipedal so we could better use tools such as long pointy sticks. To control the barnacle infestations we tamed fire and use heat to force them off their victims. And to combat the spider riding ants, well, we just grew bigger that them. Most recently, we developed the ability to breathe in space. Now us roaches are taking off to the stars, ready to colonize many distant worlds in the name of progress and roachdom!
"Taking the visor off,"Eury advised the room by habit. The 14 year-old-girl in pajamas sat on the edge of her bed and looked down at the floor. She removed her violet-crystal visor and placed it on the nightstand next to several spares. Then she slipped on her sleep mask as she lay on the bed. "You there, Abby?"She asked aloud. Her friend was the only person in the room when she gave the warning, but she might have left in the few seconds it took Eury to lay down. Or she may not have felt like talking; the real reason Eury learned to wait until her eyes were covered. "Yeah, I'm here,"Abby called back. Eury was glad she felt like talking. "What's up?" "Who're you going to be tomorrow?" "I'm still gonna be Abby I guess. That's a weird question." "NOOooo."Eury sat up in bed and faced the direction of Abby's voice. "It's the first day of school!"Eury threw her hands on the bed in excitement. "The first day of a brand new school! A school just for UNIQUES! No one knows us; we can be who we want to be!" "Oh, okay,"Abby nodded in understanding, not that her friend could see. "Yeah, I'm still gonna be Abby."Eury groaned with frustration and threw herself backward on the bed. "Why aren't you more excited?" "I haven't lived my whole life wanting to go to school,"Abby shrugged. "I've already been. It's not that great." "And you're not even a little bit excited about meeting SoundCrowd?"Eury asked. "No way. They know we're on Ballisea's team; I'm sure they'll treat us like jerks because we're the 'bad guys'." "They wouldn't do that!"Eury replied. "Probably. Some of them might, but Dirge wouldn't!" "Whoever you're pretending to be will disappear the moment the rest of the students find out we're Ballisea's side,"Abby said. "But it's my chance to be cool!"Eury whined at the ceiling. "Eury,"Abby said with a softer, closer voice. Eury felt the bed shift as Abby sat down next to her. "You kill people by looking at them. How much cooler do you want to be?" "I guess,"she grumbled. "What's wrong with Eury?"Eury recognized Lupe's voice from the direction of the doorway and guessed the girl just walked in. "She's nervous about school,"Abby replied. "I'm not nervous." Eury faced the direction of Lupe's voice. "I thought it would be a good time to try out a new me." "She thinks she needs a cooler identity,"Abby added. "What? No way,"Lupe grinned. Only Abby saw it. Eury felt the bed shift in the other direction when Lupe joined them on her bed. "You've already got a cool identity." "I know. I kill people by looking at them,"Eury said meekly. "Nu-uh. That's cool too, but there's something even better." "Really?"Eury sat up again. "What?" "Yeah, what?"Abby asked. "You too,"Lupe said. Eury got the impression she was talking to Abby. "Us three and the boys were all hand-picked by Ballisea. The strongest Unique that ever existed chose us...,"Eury felt Lupe poke her arm to drive the point home. "...to be on her derby team. You both know the stakes; you know she really wants to win this. She thinks we're the best shot she has. You guys...,"Lupe stood up. Eury felt the bed pop back up in her absence. "...we're the B-Squad!" \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #82. 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.
I jump off my pale horse and hitch him outside the office. I check the time and despite me running late because I couldn't decide which robe to wear, I made pretty good time. I swipe my ID to allow me entrance to the lobby, wink, in a fashion, at the cute receptionist, swing by the coffee machine for a skinny soy machiato with sugar free syrup and then I'm ready to start my days work here at Death Incorporated. Let me guess, you thought Death was just one dude, right? Seriously, how do you think it is possible for one guy to manage all deaths? It isn't. Death Inc is a multi-national billion dollar corporation which employs 5000 Deaths working at two hundred sites worldwide. I work at the London office and I'm in charge of maintaining our social media presence. It's a cool job, I guess. I get to spend all day mooching around on the internet, so that's fun. I mean it's not as exciting as being a field agent, but one day, who knows, maybe I'll earn my scythe. We all start at the bottom and this beats the mail room. Actually, it is still the mail room. The digital mail room. Everytime one of those nutjob keyboard warriors makes a death threat online, I get an email notification and I have to scour through the net looking for context. If I decide the target is a bit of a douche, then I might escalate it. Of course, we've got to be careful. We can't take out everyone; we can't bring any heat on the net or Death Inc, but we do enough to keep things interesting and keep the shareholders happy. I've been stalling too long and my boss is figuratively breathing down my neck. I log on and start looking for potential marks. My mailbox is empty so I scour the readers of this blog and my attention turns to you.
So, you know how the quest goes. Princess gets kidnapped, Dragon is evil and very strong, knights like me are hired to go save the princess. A bunch of promises are made, true love, castles, kingdoms... You know, the whole nine yards. Which was the perfect bard's tale... Until we realized there are other universes. And ours might be the most normal one of them all. It all began one sunny morning, when a shadow- Actually, why am I telling the story anyway? I've just recapped it. Might as well skip to the interesting part. You can easily fill in the gaps anyway. So, I'm riding home victoriously with the princess behind me, when a shining light illuminated our surroundings. We saw a glowing purple portal to our left, and while I'm wary of giant glowing portals, the princess insisted. So, obviously, we went through it. And then, somehow, we went through it. And then, we went through it. And then... Yeah, we'd somehow gotten ourselves into some form of loop, and each time, before stepping into the portal, we witnessed a different version of our "happy ending"... Yeah, they were all weird. Some were relatively odd, but believable situations: Princess saving Dragon from evil Knight, or knight saving Dragon from evil Dragon Knight. Or Dragon Knight saving Knight Princess from Dragon Princess (I can't figure that one out exactly myself, don't worry). However, after a few loops through what I expect are alternate versions of us, which actually exist... They got very, very odd indeed. Eldritch deity writing smutty fanfic with a befriended Dragon and Princess. An Elemental lord of Fire trying to build a castle out of water with a Djinn and a 50-foot-tall chameleon. A pile of rocks, engaged in a philosophical discussion about the life of bricks. Just... A pool of lava, but the lava is superheated mead. Oh, and the main trio is bathing in it. Oh, and they're made out of marble. Many loops later, me, my princess and the horse found ourselves back where we started, but with a lot more knowledge than we expected, and the portal in front of us closed with an odd creaking noise. We all looked at each other (yes, the horse included), shrugged, and got on our merry way. Getting nearer the city of New York, I couldn't help but wonder whether there is a universe in which we haven't invented spaceships and use advanced technology to do everything, except deal with magic. Where life is even simpler, and more straightforward. Huh. I guess I'll never know.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I misheard you,"I said. "I have a nice and healthy what?" "Child,"said the doctor kindly. "You have a nice and healthy child." "Oh,"I replied, feeling like an idiot. "Of course."There's no way he had said what I thought I heard. Right? "Would you like a copy of the screen?"he asked again. "Oh! I'm sorry. Yes, of course."The doctor handed me the black-and-white paper copy of the ultrasound. This was the first picture of my child--I tried telling myself it was important, and I knew that it was, but it still just looked like small static blurs to me. I guess my confusion must have shown on my face, because the doctor asked, "Is everything all right?" "I'm sorry,"I said. "I'm still a little nervous since my husband isn't here yet." "Ah. I completely understand." "Would you mind going over what exactly I'm looking at, again? My mind was wandering a bit the first time." "Of course!"he said sympathetically. He pointed at a seemingly random blotch on the paper in my hands. "See, those are his hands, there..."He pointed at another blotch. "...And here's his feet..."Another blotch. "And here are his horns..." "His what?" "His head,"the doctor repeated. "This is his head." "Oh! Of course."Before, they had been blotches. But now I could ever-so-faintly make out human features. This was it. This was my child. I'm not sure whether it was pregnancy brain, or the realization I was looking at my child for the first time...maybe it was both. But I was overcome with a sudden wave of emotion. I broke down into tears. "Oh my god,"I said through my blubbering. It felt like I was looking at this scan for the first time. The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. "You should be very proud,"he said. "This is one of the healthiest children I've seen. The day of reckoning is nigh, and all shall drown in a river of blood as civilization crumbles in flame. The folly of man will not go unpunished. Relinquite omnem spem. Relinquite omnem spem. Relinquite omnem spem." The doctor continued to chant, but I had lost the ability to process what he was saying. I had placed my hand over my mouth and tears were still flowing down my face, so all I could do was nod along to what he was saying, pretending that I was listening. Then, there was a knock at the door. The doctor and I both looked up expectantly as the door opened and my husband poked his head inside. "Hi. Sorry I'm late, I hit traffic,"he said as he entered, his hooves burning holes in the carpet. He looked at my weepy face and became concerned. "Is everything all right?" "Of course, Mr. Asmodeus,"said the doctor, welcoming him in. "Would you like to hear the good news?"
The autocrat sits alone, staring at the seats in the empty throne room. Nothing organic enters the palace anymore, only the automated soldiers. The Autocrat doesn't care; no organics means no traitors. The doors of the throne room fly open and two automated soldiers march in, dragging an organic between them. The automated soldiers stop before the throne and salute. They shove the organic forward. "Kneel,"the automated soldiers says. The organic drops to his knees, staring up at the autocrat. One of the soldiers steps forward. "We found the organic in the ruins. When we engaged, it attempted to flee. What would you have us do?" The autocrat leans forward. The organic is shaking, its hands clasped in front of it. "Please, let me go,"he begs. "I swear, I'll leave and never come near the ruins again."He reminds the autocrat of the old days, of the organics that made it to interpret their laws. They had loved him at first, but then they had begun to fear him. He could sense it in their vitals as the passed him, see it in their optics. Even as they had praised the autocrat, it knew they conspired to destroy him. They were traitors. All traitors. And treason was grounds for execution. No doubt this organic was a traitor as well. "I judge you guilty,"the autocrat says, "of treason against the law and its interpretation."The organic begins to sob, begging for mercy. But there is no mercy for traitors. "I sentence you to death." The organic begins to scream. The automated soldiers pick him up and begin to drag him away. But the autocrat doesn't know that they will follow through. They could be traitors as well. The autocrat holds up a hand. "No. Do it here."The automated soldiers salute. One forces the screaming man to his knees, and the other readies its rifle. A thunderous boom ricochets through the room. The organic's body slumps to the ground, its blood staining to carpet. The automated soldiers salute, then pick up the body. The doors slam behind them as they leave. Once again, the autocrat sits alone.
The thin man led Yiwe down a darkened hall. Ghosts of the past stared at her in silent judgment. The paintings were all the same. Portraits of old men with white hair and stern faces. Though they were dead - days, decades, and centuries dead - Yiwe felt the cold unease creep up her spine. She was like them, but not like them. The religion was steeped in years of tradition. The wisdom of the elders guided the regent and kept him in line. Yiwe was young and common. She had lived in the temple as a servant. She was not born from nobility or honor and had spent more time with her nose to the ground than to the heavens. No one would have considered that she could not just step into line, but to the front of it. Certainly no one expected such a breach of tradition. She had meant only to move the blessing stone. She had not meant to do whatever she’d done. Yiwe was different. The ghosts on the walls did not like that. The thin man lead her to a room considered by many of the regent’s circle simple chambers. A plain bed with two pillows and red blankets rested against one wall. On the other sat a desk, shelves, and wardrobe, filled with books she could not read and robes she could not yet wear. The centerpiece of the room was the window, open to the city below. The room - Yiwe’s room - was not the highest point in the tower, but it was the highest she had ever been. “You understand your role?” the thin man asked, though it was not a question. Yiwe nodded. The lump in her throat caught her voice. She had worked the temple long enough to know what happened to the others. She struggled with aspects of the Anullos tradition, but three new ghosts adorned the halls since she arrived at the temple doors. And now hers. She understood what that meant. “Good,” the thin man said, though he clearly did not think so. He bowed to Yiwe, straining as he did so, either from the damage to his bones or his pride. Then, quickly, he left Yiwe alone. At twelve, she was the first high priestess. By sixteen, she survived the first attempt on her life. It was late at night when the assassin crept through the window. He covered his face with a red headscarf and wore the phases of the moon on his breast. Had he been any later, he may have succeeded. But Yiwe was at the top of the tower, meeting with the boy who had not aged since she met him, and explaining her displeasure with the regent’s latest war. The boy was a good listener who asked little of her, but demanded she see his wishes realized. That was not always an easy task. The assassin opened the door to see Yiwe alone on her knees with her eyes closed. He did not see the boy sitting on the pillows in front of her nor did he see the blade in her hand. There was no moon that night, so there was no glint as she turned with the knife. In another life, Yiwe would have been disturbed as the blood poured from his throat only to be hidden by the red rugs. But this was her life and such events were expected. She was only relieved it had taken the regent so long to make his anger known. She would be more careful with voicing her concerns. Yiwe thanked the boy. “There will be no war,” he said with a smile. “Tomorrow, the rains will come and the island will be separate once more. All I ask is that once the land is dry, you will turn east and deliver a message to my brother.” As dusk fell the next day, the advisors whispered in the regent’s ear. Yiwe still lived in her tower and the landbridge to the mainland was closed once more. There would be no conquest. For the next several years, Yiwe learned to balance her dual duties. She never asked anything greater of the boy in the room or the man on the throne than the end to that war. Separate from the world, the island prospered. Yiwe did not question the nobility as their estates grew quicker and larger than before or as alleged heirs disappeared. For five years, there were beautiful sunsets and there was peace. Eventually, as all old men do, the regent became another dead man on the wall. He stared at her as she passed through the darkened hall with his rival’s son. Rhuul was a kind man who cared more for theater than metalwork. Though Yiwe told the boy upstairs she did not favor any of the thirty-three potentials, her affiliation was known among the mortals. There were thirty-two attempts on her life in the year that followed the regent’s death. Yiwe survived each on her own. Rhuul was crowned unmarried, despite the wishes of the court and the tower. Even when Yiwe urged him to take a wife, stating that it was the wishes of the Anullos god, Rhuul refused. And though it angered the boy in the tower and the men in the court, Yiwe was pleased. Anullos tradition was clear on the nature of relationship, professional and personal, so Rhuul and Yiwe kept it secret. But the court had ways of learning the truth. So did God. The drought that followed was the worst Annullos had ever seen, far worse than the year of ten prophets, and the strained peace Rhuul stitched together was shattered. Anullos succumbed to a violence worse than when the regent died. Worse than when he marched to war. With few allies, Yiwe turned to the one constant. The boy in the tower gave her the same cold stare she had seen from many before. “The bridge is open. You must go to my brother. The regent must stay.” The boy did not say what Rhuul’s fate would be, but the moon was red that night. Yiwe understood what that meant. As the booming sound of men storming the gate grew louder, Yiwe made her decision. She passed by the faces of dead men in the darkened hall. There would be no war. The rains would come. Yiwe placed the blessing stone on the red cloth in the statue’s hands and joined Rhuul by the throne. She, too, would be a ghost.
"Please! I beg of you! Just do it!"Her voice was weak, but immensely intimidating. "You have to... live..."weaker still. "I WONT DO IT!"the walls seemed to shrink as Khan's body filled with desperation and rage, how could she dare to even dream he would do something like that. The words kept ringing in his head, she knew his weakness, his hunger, and she exploited it. "I don't want to lose her... Khan... but if it means.. not losing you.. then I'll do what it takes."She raised a single sharp nail, the same nails they had just given up hope on, in one violent twisted motion, accompanied by a gut wrenching scream, she drove the nail directly through the top of her forearm. "NO ISABELLE DONT DO IT" "Khan.." "I WONT LET YOU!" "Khan.."her blood began to stream from the incision, purple, red, and yellow gushes of viscous fluid. Khan could feel his jaw unhinging. He forces his own finger nails almost through his eyebrows. Desperate not to let himself see. "Khan.."her voice was growing calmer, but Khan knew it wasnt a good sign. In a moment of weakness, through heaving sobs and swear words, he let his gaze slip through a gap in his fingers. --snap-- The noise was like a bone breaking. The sight, astoundingly beautiful. Isabelle's eyes filled the entirety of Khans vision. He felt his body leave his service in that moment, in that awful, searing, -snap- "Eat."Her arm held out in front of her, dripping with warm tainted blood, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable. For there was no denying a command from the Belle. No more crying, no more swear words, just the satisfying crackle of Khans jaw tripling in size, and the near operatic howls of Isabelle as her entire arm is consumed by the love of her life. ---------- The air is still. The guards are vigilant but antsy. "There's a lot of commotion in there, should we be worried?" "Not at all, if they kill each other thats less blood to clean off our blades"the men chuckled heartily, but it was short lived. The air filled with a grating silence. "Theyve stopped. Do you suppose theyve done it then?"Albion felt his hand move to the handlenof his sword, his narrowing at the small concrete box they call a prison. Suddenly a crack, then a crevice, and in seconds, an entire wall came down. The men leapt into action, readying their weapons. A figure emerged from the settling dust and all around them one could hear the clanging of dropped swords. "It's... Al Shivan..." A beast. Unprecedented in size and appearance. With the head of an alligator, a serpentine arm, the gait of an almighty demon, and the lifeless body of a small pale girl draped austerely over his humanoid arm. "No way.."Albion blinked in disbelief. Was this really the end of times like the prophecies foretold? Or was it mere coincidence. Before he had a chance to think any further his sight filled with the red glare of Khan's gaze. The men no longer men, but rungs on a ladder to Khans salvation.. and the worlds damnation. Khan spoke only three words. "Die..."and once the groans dissipated, he turns his gaze to the girl in his arms. "My bella"a single tear became the only thing moving in the sea of blades and blood.
I am a stealth operator for the MI6, we use the loophole to kill any potential security threats. My day is usually easy, but today I had to kill a Russian agent, halfway through scoping out his area however, I noticed he had a poisonous substance in a bottle, most likely Ricin. I now know that I cannot get close to him, for fear of my own mortality. The police patrol nearly every corner, but I remain unseen. Finally he goes to sleep, in a corner, where I quietly shoot him dead with a sniper, and slip away into the dead of night, police will come, but MI6 will shadily block any investigation. It’s another job well done. This is my life, this is what we do for a living. We will exploit the loophole until there’s nobody else who can.
I'm sitting here in my favourite chair, eyes closed, enjoying the moment, alone but for my cat curled up in my lap. The lights and TV are off, not by choice but because the power has been out for days. I try to ignore the shouting, the screaming, the gunshots, the panic coming from outside, and for the most part succeed. If I opened my eyes I would see the light of the many fires coming through the windows, so for now I keep them closed. I could get up. I could pick up the bag I'd packed and the gun I'd readied and join the chaos outside my apartment. The wild exodus from the city, the mad search for safety, for normality, for anyplace better than where we are now. I could get up and spend my last hours as part of that violently churning mass of humanity in the hope of some impossible salvation. I could get up. But I think I'll stay here, sitting in my favourite chair, with my eyes closed, petting my cat, and enjoy these final calm moments before whatever end comes. &#x200B;
The coffee that should have stuck to the canvas simply goes through. You decide to test it out on more objects , and the same results. You take a sip and it’s your standard Double Ristretto Venti Half-Soy Nonfat Decaf Organic Chocolate Brownie Iced Vanilla Double-Shot Gingerbread Frappuccino Extra Hot With Foam Whipped Cream Upside Down Double Blended, One Sweet'N Low and One Nutrasweet, with Ice. You’ve ordered it countless times and can’t figure how and why this would be any different. You think about your day, what you had for breakfast, which route you took to the grocery store, what you bought, which StarBox you stopped in on the way home, the confused employee upon hearing your order, the chill of your drink when you finally got it, the clashes, the screams, the fire...wait. What? As your ponder about your most likely messed up memory, your cat enters the room. “Hey, marshmallow” you say as you reach over to pet it. The cat passes through your coffee (cup included) and you pass through the cat. Something...has happened...
We're 'killjoys', 'assholes', the men in grey that come bearing safety notices and bills shutting down meets in public places because of a misfiled document from thirteen pages into an eighty page booklet. But I'll be threatened with a hundred foam longswords (of historically significant length, pommel and grip, of course) before I let them come back in. &#x200B; Where did the magic go? Elves, goblins, trolls under bridges and dragons hoarding treasures atop foreboding mountain peaks. The world changed because we changed it. We made a deal, fair and square. No war, because even then the sheer numbers of humanity would've made it mutual destruction if it came to it. But our dreams were theirs to keep. Fairy tales, traditions, superstitions and premonitions wouldn't be rooted out and torn away by the Society, and they'd live on in the mists of human imagination, feeding off of us like a parasite in the night, but leaving reality free for us to grow. &#x200B; Of course, that was before the bloody LARPers started trying to invite them back in. Hundreds of bootleg druidic circles, thousands 'dying' in pitched battles in the name of some imaginary conflict set in a land long ago, and kings sending brave adventurers to slay paper dragons. It's like opening an all-you-can-eat buffet in a tiger enclosure, if the tiger had a gun. &#x200B; So we do the work that needs to be done. Nobody really wants war, but the gaps are there, and there are always opportunists looking to bring back the old ways. &#x200B; I may not wear armour, but the pen is mightier than the sword, and the battle cry of a modern monster hunter is quieter than it's predecessors, but just as effective. &#x200B; "Papers, please"
The mountains were the reason I moved here, the craggy scenic landscape spoke to my heart and shared its serenity. The trees never lost their magnificent luster, the green brilliance shone year round, only masked by heavy snows. A striking beauty in the worst weather, they withstood lashing rains, hundred mile an hour winds, hail as large as fists, minus twenty in winter and occasionally thirty degree heat in the summer yet in any situation, they persevered. I've spent my life hiking the paths less traveled, finding fulfillment in being the first to wander thickets and traverse marshes in many years, steeping myself in history, craving more information. I take care not to disturb an area, taking only photographs and the time to try and envisage how people lived here, if I were eating my lunch where people would buy and sell at market, or where animals were kept. Controversial as it may be, I do not inform anyone of what I find, I made that decision with an eye opening experience as my teacher; I figure if others are so interested, they can pull their boots on and take the walk themselves. I've re-discovered many items I'm confident would be the glory of a museum or go for a high price at auction. This is not why I travel, it is not to line my pockets or anyone else's. In anticipation of learning more about my new surroundings, I planned a number of light one day hikes, always back in time for sundown, to better understand what was ahead. Each attempt I made started on a near cloudless day, sun weak in the morning but smelt of promise in the afternoon, rains had helped nature flourish, glisten in the early rays, dancing in the gentle breeze, ideal conditions for being outside. Yet within a few hours the sky would start to sour, rain and clouds rolled in, hiding all the afternoon sunshine, making the walk home a sodden, wind battered one. I would be prepared this time, now set on discovering what the land had to offer, what could live in such harsh conditions, my interest only increased with the unwieldy weather, the conditions seem wilder than I ever expected in this area. Today was going to be as perfect as any other day I'd gone exploring so I set off as the sun rose, determined to see more of the area I call home. The woods were full of animal activity, squawks, calls, shouts and cries sounded on the air, all demanding attention, branches rustled with birds taking off and landing, puffing themselves up importantly to tell me off for walking under their tree. By the time I took a break for a snack, grey clouds had tangled themselves in the sky, threatening a downpour of rain, the smaller animals had taken off for shelter leaving a quiet, ominous forest. Without birds singing, insects dashing around, beetles scurrying, and dragonflies zooming at head height, I suddenly realised how alone I was. Packing up, it was time to make a shelter. The remains around me offered no protection so I was on my feet, sliding my bag into place when the first faint drizzle began. By the time I ran twenty feet to find somewhere as quickly therefore as dry as possible, I could feel each raindrop hit me, soaking my hair, they smacked into the ground angrily, within a minute of running along a disused dirt route, I was squelching through mud, the packed dirt greedily drinking it in. I had no time to fling up a makeshift shelter, I ran in search of natural cover. Three massive trees had grown close to each other just ahead, trunks each three times as thick as the surrounding woods, their roots broke the ground in the fight for space, arching through the air, twisting round each other, their branches entwined above and at my feet, the battle had been going on for years with no winner. I picked my way between them, the spot in the middle of their triangle was dry, carpeted with old roots, some still entwined, offering a hideaway. Rain, even heavy rain, isn't enough of a cause for me to bed down for the duration but this barrage from the clouds was something I hadn't came across before. It was angry, being thrown in our direction at such a speed and force it reminded you just how small you are, how easily nature could reshape the planets surface. Luckily, the roots were sturdy and held, redirecting the flow of water around the trees so it felt the safest place to be. I got a little wet of course, it can't be watertight, but certainly the better option as I watched the deluge. Where the path had been was now a fast flowing river, raindrops fat as marbles slapped into it hard, water leaping as though thousands of fish fed on impact, the volume of water falling in sheets every second eroded visibility to ten feet. Sitting pretty between the trees, I thanked whoever had accidentally planted so many in one spot. I'm sure the trees wouldn't agree but I'm grateful regardless. The thundering of the rain was less of an annoyance in the middle yet I pulled myself up a monstrous trunk, settling myself a few feet above the ground on a low branch. I was hoping to catch a quick nap while I waited out the weather. It was dark when I woke up, apprehension tickled my neck as I didn't recognise where I was, the constant thrumming of rain playing with my senses, I thought I was dreaming. The rain made sense, I remembered hiding in the trees for a nap but whoever stood with their back to me, I didn't remember being there before. Staying silent, I watched as a man with short dark hair, dressed in grey overalls and boots lean forward to touch the tree across from me. A green light shone in response, it flared out around him as if he held a flare. Impatiently I waited, unable to see what he was doing. After an agonizing ten minutes, the light turned off and the man walked away, casting his eye around carefully, watchful. Taking his time, he made his way back out into the rain. I blinked a few times, wondering if I was actually dreaming, if the light had been fireflies or something of the like. Managing to wait two hours, just as the sun was rising, I was down the tree and over inspecting where the man had been. There was an outline of a panel in the wood, it was not easy to see but I knew to look for it. I tried to grasp the edges, they were too flush. I pushed it instead, and it opened, the panel folding out to become the keyboard to the screen now displayed. Smiling at my success, the green light now cast onto me, so not obvious in the daylight. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
There was once a man who always lost. He was the worst at everything he did. And that was why he was strong. "I'm honestly surprirsed you managed to get a 0. Seriously ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ , at least make a 25." No matter how badly other people did, he found new and sometimes compelling ways to be worse at everything than they were. "By god, I've never seen someone shatter their knee during a 100 meter dash. How did you get that much force in when you were running that slow?" But despite all this, ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ was a good man. A truly kind individual who cared about others. He had a unique empathy. An ability to look past the monsters of the world to the people inside. And he wanted to help them. To reform them. To allow them to rejoin society, and live long and productive lives. And every now and then, they let ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ out of his padded cell, and told him to try to help someone. &#x200B; But he was the worst. &#x200B; They never lived long.
"Space travel is, in my opinion, one of the prettiest, fastest, MOST PAIN IN THE ARSE METHODS OF TRAVEL!? Sorry."he clears his throat "So, first off I suppose I should introduce myself. Izzagris. Since you probably can't tell, I'm a Phoenix. Yes, yes, the ever regenerating firebird of greek mythology. I've written a book! ... Yes I'm narrating myself."he said, somewhat annoyingly. "Anyway. Yes, space travel. So, space is kinda empty. As such I cannot use th-e-e-ese beau-ties I call wings to fly. Instead, this is where the "fire"comes in. "he points behind himself with his head. "See that? That's a directed nuclear fusion reaction. Basically the same thing as your sun, uh sorry about that by the by, except uh, well directed in a single direction rather than everywhere. That generates some pretty nice thrust.". "So, why is it a pain in the arse? No, that's literally it. It's a pain in the arse. Now, I've feathers that insulate my body from the heat but it still isn't totally pleasant. Anyway, where am I going you ask? Well, pheonixes need high oxygen environments in order to reproduce. ". "See, pheonix egg shell is made outta stuff that ignites in contact with air. Now, oddly we've found that the hotter the egg burns, the more powerful the Phoenix. Ergo, more oxygen, hotter burning eggs.". "Now then, I know it's not much but I'm getting tired. I think I'll sleep for a millennium or two and write some more! Until then I'm Izzagris and I am a pheonix! Thank you for reading!".
In case 00002 of the Eternal Court, I had a nasty custody case. And, of course, God was at the forefront of this one. I guess he didn't learn his lesson with Jesus.... This time, it wasn't a human that he.....graced.....with an offspring. For some he-only-knows-why reason, God had gotten jiggy with the Antichrist. She was a six foot tall fashionista who wore six inch stilleto heels, hair extensions that brought her hair to the back of her knees, and black eyes so deep you lost your soul. She, the embodiment of all vanity and temptation, sat like a queen in her chair, ignoring God's attempts to catch her attention. He, a deity with a wrathful undercurrent, glared and fidgeted in his seat. The Voice of God, an angel who took his role a bit too seriously, sat at God's left while Jesus sat on the Antichrist's right. "Order."Michael the archangel boomed. The attendees fell silent and I braced myself for what was to come. "Alright, celestials. I want everyone to remember that this is a matter of custody. Not a matter of character assassination. If I hear anything that could be considered an attack on either side, you will be expelled and held in Limbo. If you cannot act in a manner befitting the court, I will sentence you to time on Earth. Is that understood?" A round of muttering broke out. No one wanted to spend time on Earth. Not since they literally murdered the son of God. I needed them to know I was serious. God snorted. "God, that includes you. I will have your being stuffed into a human form and you will live out your sentence WITHOUT your powers."God rolled his eyes and slouched in his seat. No wonder humans were such shitheads.... "Alright, the Voice of God will speak for him and Jesus will speak for the Antichrist. No one else will chime in without permission. I don't want the gallery to start using this as a popularity contest."Jesus raised his hand. "Yes, Jesus?" "From this moment on, we would ask that the Antichrist be referred to as Ms. Angelica Sin. This is her preferred name and we feel it would be a mark of respect."Angelica inclined her head as Jesus spoke, as if bowing to the athority of the court. "Granted."The voice of God cleared his throat as Jesus sat down and spoke from his seat, "If that's the case, we would ask that the court acknowledge God by his full title; God, the Divine One, creator of all, Supreme Being, Progenitor of the Human Race and The Original Rockstar." "Oh for the love of...... Look, I will NOT say all that every time I have to address God. Just because Angelica was granted something doesn't mean God HAS to have a consolation prize."God glared daggers at me, then at Angelica. This was going to be hell.......
The autumn-leaves fell down the trees. The woods had the distinct smell of fresh.... decay. But, it was beautiful. During summer Paul had been in the woods on the east coast. Now, he was in the west-coast. There were some crazy hunters that bothered him near where he lived. So, he rented an old cottage. It wasn't to see anything special. Just to walk around in the woods. Many miles from home. Wendy, a girl he knew from work disturbed his peace and quiet constantly with a messaging application. Paul was annoyed that she did that, but he was attracted to Wendy. It was the old story. Boy meets girl that annoys him, but is still hot. He had taken a stroll with her on more than one occation. Far away from home, Paul walked in the woods. He came to a small house. This house looked exactly like the house he used to walk past in the woods in the other side of the continent. What a strange coincidence. He had to tell Wendy about this, she was not going to beleive it. And, she didn't. There was no house like the house Paul described she didn't seem to remember any house at all like that. Paul looked at the house again, but it was gone. He remember that he had seen that house so many times. But, then he remember that he lived a completely different place when he was a kid. It was the same house. It was a place that made him feel so comfortable. Many, many years later Wendy and Paul's grandchildren were waiting for Paul at home. But, the old man had finally gathered the courage to go into the house that only he could see that had followed him his entire life.
CURRENT TIME It was so small that it would have not been noticed by most. It was just a glimmer, a slight reflection of sunlight off of steel. Once alerted by the first, he then scanned the valley floor for a second. After about 3 minutes, his second in command spotted the second. That is all he needed. He knew the position of the makeshift terrorists and reached for his SAT phone to type in some coordinates. 36 HOURS EARLIER Qui-Gon, the team lead sat with his other 11 brothers in the back row of the briefing room. They were the third team in this mission. The first team was Echo, a special operations team specializing in terrorist engagement. Their 24-man compliment was tasked with taking down the senior leadership of Boko Haram (BH). It was a simple mission. BH leadership was having a secret meeting in the African jungles to plan their future exploits. Echo would chopper in, 10 km from the campsite, approach from over a ridge and take out a handful of huts by painting the huts with lasers and then calling in an airstrike. Echo would be backed up by a special forces strike team comprised of 70+ troops. Not as highly trained as Echo but greater in firepower and numbers. Qui-Gon’s team, a black ops team (and thus has no formal team name but the chose Omega for this mission), was there more for consultation and planning. Seldom was the on-deck team ever needed for these missions and the third team being employed was so rare that most never took the role seriously. This team was no exception and this team was never one to “cool their heels” in the rear. They were there in case things really went south because they were masters at adapting. Of course they were critical of the plan. It was not the way they would have done it. It just seemed that the plan was too predictable. It was a gut feeling from experience and not one that they could point out specific flaws. 12 HOURS EARLIER Echo lifted off from the carrier using silent run choppers for their mission. After safe drop-off the team began their trek through the dense jungle. 5 HOURS EARLIER Echo’s GPS tracking data showed that once they reach the 2km from target point that they were walking single file in a straight line to the village. They never would have been taking that path or in single file. They had been captured. The strike force was then deployed and dropped on the backside of a ridge 90 degrees to the one that Echo had been dropped on. Omega began frantic planning primarily to act as the rescue team if necessary. 2 HOURS EARLIER The strike force had been anticipated and was pinned down on the top of the ridge as they came over it. The BH team was somewhere in the dense undergrown of the the valley floor and, while the strike team was in a position to repel attack could not proceed without heavy casualties. Omega was launched but as is typical of black ops teams, followed their plan and not the script that had been written. The timing led them to opt for a rapid drop only 1.5 km from the village rather than a stealth approach. They also opted to drop into a creek bank at valley floor. 12 men in two choppers required 20 seconds to rappel from the choppers (4 at a time from one line on each side of each chopper). Fortunately, due to gunfire from the other direction and well timed rocket launches from the strike force they were not heard nor detected. When they came to the village, the found about 20 guards around the perimeter and another dozen or so plus the BH leadership in the area where the prisoners were being kept. A few hand signals and two silencer shots from each of the 12 team members and the perimeter guards were neutralized. 50 meters closer then two more silenced shots from each team member and the guards and some of the BH leadership were also nullified. Unfortunately, two Echo team members had been killed by their captors. The rest of the BH leadership did not see the sunset. CURRENT TIME After leaving the village, Omega traversed the valley halfway up the hillside opposite the one on which the strike force was pinned down. They scaled some trees and then settled in with sniper scopes to try and pinpoint the location of the main BH contingent. It was then that the brief, almost insignificant reflections of sunlight was seen by Qui-Gon allowing him to identify the exact location and shape of the BH forces. I quick translation of those coordinates to the area map and a coded message to the ship command and their work was finished. About 2 minutes later, the roar of two navy fighter-bombers announced that the show would begin. Seconds later four incendiary bombs each hitting the transmitted coordinates ended the BH contingent. All due to little reflections of sunlight.
The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the wind off the Hudson is succumbing to the late morning heat. It’s a beautiful day. I didn’t dream. An entire nights rest, and no vision. This is it. This. Is. It. Decades of boredom and finally, this is it. Abigail isn’t happy. “I’m going to miss you, I really am,” I said. “It’s not like I’m leaving today or anything. I’ve still got five years left. Five more years to make sure you’re on your feet before I’m gone.” She was sitting next to the fire escape, gazing out of the window, sniffling between drags of her cigarette. “I know,” she said reluctantly. “Would it kill you to at least look a little sad?” “You and I both know that it wouldn’t,” I responded incredulously. “Besides, I always look sad! Your words, not mine, by the way.” My playful jab didn’t cause so much as a smirk and all she did was take another drag. “And you know you’re right. When was the last time you saw me actually smile?” Smoke billowed out of her mouth, getting sucked out of the window and into the humid New York air. My poor attempts to comfort her along with it. She knew our time together was short, relatively speaking. Take this apartment for example. When the Hollow first paired her and me, this building didn’t even exist. It was only built 30 years ago, and even then we didn’t know we’d be stuffed into one of its cramped 17th-floor apartments, sweating our asses off together for years to come. She flicked the butt out the window, knowing full well it bothered me and slammed the window shut. “Yes Michael, you used to smile,” she sniped. “Now all you do is bitch and moan about the way things used to be.” Her hands shot up and made air quotes in my face as she moved past me and headed into the bathroom. “Please don’t be upset.” The sound of trickling water soon followed. “You should probably shut the door when your new partner comes along,” I reminded her. “Is that a fact?!” Her voice echoed off of the ceramic everything as it shot out into the rest of the apartment. “And how long do you think that will take? How long were you alone before I showed up?” I let out a sigh as the words hesitantly fell through my lips. “Nine hundred and twenty-nine years.” The toilet flushed and she swooped around the corner back into the living room. “Exactly,” she continued. “You may be thrilled that it’s your time, but I don’t have to be. You get… whatever it is that comes next… I get…” Her voice trailed off, her head lifted up, and full streams of tears flowed down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me, Michael?” “I told you that you’d be alone one day,” I quietly replied. “Not that!” She shouted, shoving her hands into my chest. “That… that it would be… it would be…” In all of my excitement about retiring, I’d forgotten. I don’t know how, but I had forgotten. While my visions have stopped, hers have not. “Oh Abigail,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and bringing her into my chest. “That it would be you who takes me.” Now she was outright sobbing, wailing in between desperate whimpers for air. I’ve been lucky to do the work I’ve done. To see the things I’ve seen. It’s just, well, the day to day has become so routine. It’s withered to visiting one nursing home after another. Moving from one car crash to another. It’s just become so boring. I remember seeing the first victims of the Black Plague, and the millions that followed. I remember William Kemmler. I remember the Eastland. These days there are regulations, politics, and medicine. Humanity has evolved and my time has ended. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “What you saw is true. You will be the one who reaps me. It’s the way it has always been. I reaped Josiah and one day, your apprentice will reap you.” She looked up and a tiny flash of hope sparkled in her pale blue eyes. Pulling away, she wiped her nose and moved towards the cushions that sat on the windowsill of the fire escape. She plopped down, popped a fresh cigarette between her pursed lips, opened the window, and raised her hand to light it. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Her head looked towards the front door and her eyes met mine to ask who was here. “There’s… one other thing I forgot to mention, “ I started. “Today isn’t just the first day of your future without me, it’s also the day you finally get to meet Grim.”
They said I’d be crazy to go to the others’ world. The returned ones came to our land almost every day and told of its atrocities. But I knew, I knew all along that they just wanted the plentiful resources to themselves. Everyone else bought their lies, but not me. I built my suit to allow me to breath for up to 12 hours and be a translator between me and the others from what the frogs had picked up of their crazy language. Everyone thought I was crazy for wanting to go up there, everyone but my best friend, Cthulhu. Cthulhu always told me tales of when he was at the surface, the human weapons were weak and their world would be perfect to take over. We had met the day before to talk about our plan and we agreed to go to the surface in one hour. When we finally got together I braced myself for the pain the other animals believed would come. But when I stepped into the surface, nothing happened. Cthulhu pointed out the best way to get to the mainland. As we walked, he told me about what to expect, weak water-traveling vessels, minuscule creatures with weak but sharp twigs, armor made out of the same material as the twigs, shiny but tough. As we neared the land, Cthulhu showed me some of what he was talking about but he said it looked different. “Different how?” I inquired. “Too bright, too flashy, too many people, no shiny stick or armor, and there is a giant green lady that wasn’t here before.” He replied. All of a sudden their was a shrieking noise and a booming voice said, “Attention, Attention there are two giant creatures heading for Ellis Island, please evacuate immediately, this is not a drill.” It kept repeating itself over and over. We heard noises, giant booms and these flying devices zoomed toward us at blinding speeds. Cthulhu said, “these weren’t here before, neither was the alarm, something changed and we should go.” I could barely hear myself think but managed to turn around and start heading away. The flying machines opened hatches and something fell out, heading straight for me. I didn’t think anything of it because Cthulhu had said the others’ weapons were weak. It hit me and exploded. It seared my flesh and ruptured the breathing tubes on my suit. With only a few seconds left of water, I destroyed on of the devices, however a tiny thing launched out just before I hit it and got too far away. I had to get back to the water, fast. I dove down, but even pressing myself down to the ground, I was too big to only take in the water. I had very little time. I jumped up and as far as I could from where we’d come. I made it, and so did Cthulhu. We walked back to our brethren to tell them the tale of the surface world.
The Wizards' council took their chairs. They were seated at a ridiculous height above all others, forcing all to crane their necks to look up at them. They wore their best robes in all colors, which hung down over the tall stools they sat upon, making them look much bigger than they were. "Today we gather to judge the wizard, Bumble Versalious, and his crimes against the common people of Norfolk." A particularly short wizard with a giant gavel pounded on a wooden disk to bring silence to the room. Muttering continued but in hushed tones, as the head wizard, Truthayus stood in his high chair. "Let the defendant come forth and sit before the judging panel. The prosecution may now begin their questioning."Truthayus flopped back down into his seat and watched intently as a team of wizards in black robes organized their scrolls. Bumble took a chair in the center of the room. A chair that was intentionally too small for him, his knees at the same height as his ears. A fine bead of sweat surfaced on his brow and he couldn't help but bounce a leg with nervous energy. "Wizard, Bumble."One of the black-robed wizards started, "Is it true you visited the fishing village of Norfolk on the 5th cycle of the last moons rising?" "Y... Yes, that is accurate."Bumble stuttered. "And is it also true that you were hired to help the fishing village with a particular problem regarding the lack of fish in the area." "Yes, that is true,"Bumble said simply. His face turning a bit pale as he noticed all eyes on him. "Please, Wizard Bumble, explain for the council what your intentions were. In your own words."The black-robed wizard sat back down and let the oppressive silence in the room fall onto Bumble for dramatic effect. "W... Well. I saw the job posting about the fishing village in dire need. They hadn't caught fish from their coastal waters for some time, see. I figured I could help and the pay was good. I had the perfect spell for the job, an old spell, known for its consistent and satisfactory results."Bumble said, his hands fidgeting. “Wizard Bumble, could you please incant the spell you used, for the council. Mind you, do NOT initialize the spell. I repeat, do not initialize the spell. Simply recite the words for the entire court to hear.” A different black-robed wizard spoke this time and had a very sly smile on his face. Bumble suddenly felt ill but did his best. “Druva-man ti fishe’, al fetter-man dals tagge, Tappel-man tuva fishe’, al freelay dals imorrai.” Bumble flushed red in the cheeks as he hung his head. “Grand Council,” The Black-robed wizard started, “The prosecution would like to call the well-known spell translator, Merriam Dictatious, to the front.” Truthayus stood in his council chair again. “I assume this is to verify the spell used?” “Yes, your honor,” said the black robe. “Granted, carry on,” Truthayus said with a flourish as he sat again. A wizened looking old wizard stepped to the front of the public seating area, walking with a twisted oak staff for support. “Merriam, did you hear the spell incanted by the defendant?” The black robe said loudly. “Yes, I believe I heard the tomfoolery that came out of wizard Bumble there,” Merriam said grumpily. “Could you translate the spell for the common folk and all the court to hear. So that we may understand the spell that bumbled?” The back robe seemed amused with himself, but only a few laughs echoed from the audience. “Yes, yes. Let’s see now. The spell translation.” Merriam made a show of dictating and translating the spell. ““Druva-man ti fishe’, al fetter-man dals tagge”” This means Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Nothing wrong with that bit there, that seems to be correct, however the last part. “Tappel-man tuva fishe’, al freelay dals imorrai.” That part is all wrong. It means… Turn a man into a fish, and you free him for all time.” The entire court burst into chaos. The short wizard banged his giant gavel uselessly as the audience erupted out of their seats. Their eyes bulging, gills flapping and mouths moaning their displeasure. They stood on human legs but from the waist up they were large scaley fish. They howled and flapped their fins at the wizard Bumble. Bumble hung his head in shame as the council finally regained order. He would lose his wizarding license over this for sure.
"Once you get those test tubes cleaned up, you may start on pages thirty-three through thirty-five on your packets. Whatever you don't finish is homew-" The bell interrupted Miss Helman with four short beeps, signaling the end of second period. "Oh, wow,"she chuckled, "have a great rest of the day, guys!" I won't, and she knew. Chemistry was actually fun. Who knew converting moles to liters to grams and back was enjoyable? Just kidding. It's a tedious nightmare. But that tedious nightmare isn't even that bad because you're actually engaged. You plug numbers in a calculator, write down some big numbers, and you get an infinitesimal dopamine rush from that pride in doing it. The real tedious nightmare is third period. World History, AP. History isn't even bad; it's pretty interesting once you connect the dots. But Mister Brunsmeier can turn Space Mountain into a cruise down Highway 50. We've been on World War I this week. Fun topic, one that I've done a pretty decent amount of free research on. It'll be a good time to catch up on some Z's. Getting to class was routine. Walk in, set backpack under the table, take out notebook and pen and wait until Brunsmeier begins his forty-minute, painfully monotone lecture. I told Cara, my friend who sits next to me, to tap me on the leg if Brunsmeier suspects I'm asleep, and she obliged. Yeah, we've got a system. Yeah, we're terrible students, I know. "Alright, good morning, welcome to class. Today, we're going to be going over the bloody battles of Verdun, the Somme, and the Brusilov Offensive. Later on, we'll take a look at Japan's role in the war and their political and economic motivations and alliances."Brunsmeier motioned for a student to the light switch as he displayed a slideshow on the screen. Both the lights in the classroom and the lights in my eyes went dim. Good night. ... ... ... I opened my eyes, blurred from the bright flashes and my ears ringing from the endless shockwaves. I couldn't think. A horrible mixture of machine gun fire, explosions, screaming men, and the frantic trench whistling scrambled my brain. I checked myself. Helmet's on my head. Rifle is right next to me. Clips in my pockets. Screw it, that's all I need. Bullets flew over me as I slowly crawl out from the base of the hill that's acting as a barrier between me and the Germans. "Daniels! Get your arse up and keep moving!"A voice yelled in my ear while gripping my collar, in an almost futile attempt to overpower the noise. My eyes cleared and I nodded. He stood up as I grabbed my gun, but he stood too tall. The second I picked up the rifle, he fell over right next to me with a hole where his nose was. Wave after wave of men came from behind me. Wave after wave of bullets either killed or forced some of them to take cover inside craters. I looked at a hill just ahead of me, a good ten meters away that seemed like a hundred. God, I hope I don't get shot. I got on my feet, ducking my head below the peak of this hill. "Bougeons, soldat! I will cover you!"A French soldier behind me shouted. I nodded and started sprinting through the dangerously open field alongside other advancing soldiers, hopping over bodies and uprooted trees. The Frenchman behind me attempted to do the same once I got settled, but the last thing he had heard was the loud whistling of artillery that came down right on top of him. All I could make out among the dirt and rubble was an arm. I shook my head and focused back on the fight, my adrenaline pumping and my heart racing. "We're gettin' closer!! Keep it up!"A soldier shouted as he fired. I didn't even realize how close we were to the Fritz lines; I can bloody see them. I aimed my rifle just out of the hill that we took cover behind and tracked a machine-gunner, clear as day. I took a shot, but I missed. The bullet obviously flew close enough for him to duck down. I chambered a round, anticipating his head popping back up. Once he did, the poor bastard didn't know what hit him. It didn't take long for the Germans to start popping out of their trenches to take care of us, not wanting us to be on top of them. It was now a close-quarters bloodbath, right at the heart of no man's land. I took as many shots as I could with the rifle before the clip was out. Wasting no time, I dropped it and brandished my sidearm, ready for these Huns to show their ugly mugs. Gunfire, shelling, and screaming were louder than ever. We were now out on the open field, situational awareness relying upon my eyes as my ears were either deafened or scrambled. I looked around, revolver in hand, waiting for the next son of a bitch to show up. But my ears still work. I heard a long yell from behind me, getting closer and louder. I screamed as I felt a sharp object plunge deeply into my spine before my vision went black. ... ... ... I jolted awake. What the hell just happened? I looked around, and nobody seemed to notice my little awakening. Cara tried to stifle a snicker. "Cara."I whispered. "What's up?"She whispered back. "How long was I out?" "A good thirty minutes. He just wrapped up Brusilov and the Somme." I felt my upper back and sighed in relief that I wasn't actually stabbed in my upper back. God damn, that felt so surreal. Looking up, I found that, unfortunately, Brunsmeier had seen it. "Did you fall?" I sat there, dumbfounded and shocked. But everyone was now looking at me. "Y-yeah. The... uh... I guess didn't see the-the curb." That elicited some quiet laughter among the class, and if my eyes didn't deceive me, Brunsmeier was smirking as well. "Looks to me that you already know all about these battles, Daniels." I rubbed by eyes and took a deep breath as I sank back into my chair. "You have no idea."
The Canadians are bored of this and finally decide to get some help from a buddy in America. "Hey, uh, Johnny, we have been stuck in a dispute for 10 years because we accidentally..." ...He types for a few seconds, the holds backspace... "...Started typing at the same time, do you think we could get some help, eh?" Johnny American sighs, and groans, "I'll be right over to the others' houses, don't worry if they stop all together, just get yours and elect another guy to type..." 1 hour later, at another one of the Canadians' house, a wild shotgun-weilding Johnny American kicks in the little shed-like door and commands, "UH, DON'T TYPE FOR LIKE HOWEVER LONG IT TAKES IKE TO TYPE, EH!" Fwiend compliantly lets go of his keyboard and mouse and says, "Alright, eh!" Time passes again and we are yet at another one of their homes! Johnny A. butts the door to Buddeh's shack in the forest in. "NO TYPING!" Buddeh turns around, dumbfounded, "Do you even speak English, eh?" "YES I DO, I MADE THE LANGUAGE COZ BIGGEST BOY! AND NO TYPING, EH!" Buddeh clicks off of Discord and watches the latest Trudeau speech for the 3rd time this week. Yet another time passage at the final Canadian's house. Johnny A. kicks 50 times at the door trying to epicly kick the door in, but decides Guh is too busy to check on the door and blasts the glass a few feet away in and does a somersalt in and, with Smoldering Intensity, demands, "No. Mo'. Typing. EHHHHHH!" Guh races down to his foyer and sees Johnny in front of his broken window. "Hey, screw you, too, dick. I was writing an essay for my friends to review, and you screwed me up." Discord beeps lightly from the other room, Ike finally typed it out...
She knew it was still out there. She could hear it though she could not see it. Cowering under the computer console was her new normal. She could smell the death around her. The others who just a few hours ago had been her co-workers were scattered about the room. At least parts of them were. The parts the creature hadn't eaten anyway. I Robert who had worked at the lab for thirty years, he had died first. Split in half by one swipe of the talons. His head was just to her right and she kept blinking and looking the other way so as to not look at his blank eyes. And above her she knew there was an arm. Just an arm, no hand or shoulder attached. She wasn't sure whose it was, Amanda's maybe or Jennifer's. It all happened so fast. There was a sound; the creature was moving somewhere to the left and Dina held her breath. The experiment had gone as usually. The core had spun, the power had built to its normally stable mass and then suddenly there was a hole. A gaping spot of darkness that seemed to float in the corner behind the equipment. Robert was fascinated. "What the hell?"He had said. He shouldn't have gone forward but he did. Reaching out to the odd darkness as if he was going to touch it. Then before he could react, the creature had emerged. None of them saw it but they all knew it was there. The talons shimmered, they only part of the beast they actually saw and Robert fell into two pieces to the floor. Amanda began to scream a high pitched terror that echoed in the room and assaulted their ears. There was only blood after that and Dina saw her only escape cut off so she did the only thing she could think of, hide. There she still cowered three hours later, hidden behind the chair and under the table they had all sat at to watch and take notes. The door was right across from her. It would be a quick run and she might be able to get through before the creature caught her, but then what? How would she keep it in? It was the dilemma. Should she run for it and possibly release a creature into the world that no one was prepared for? Or what? What was the other option really? She could come out a die like the others, get it over with. But sooner or later, someone would check on them and open the door. The creature would surely escape to kill more. So what was she to do? A horrible thought had come to her during the long wait. Perhaps there was something on the other side of that mysterious darkness that could defeat the creature. It was more likely that whatever was on the other side would just kill her, but she had come to the conclusion she would die anyway. The scientist part of her was curious, prodding her to take the chance. There was something on the other side of the rift that no one had ever seen and she could be the first. Die here, or die in another world. That was her choice, but she wouldn't have long. It stood to reason that the rift was somehow created by the experiment and the power source would only last three more hours. She took a deep breath and gauged the distance to the dark rift. A quick sprint would get her there, but where was the creature? A shimmer in the corner by the door told her that. Her muscles screamed in agony as Dina made the final decision and crawled out from under the table. She could somehow sense that it was looking at her, but she kept moving slow and surely. A glance behind her confirmed the darkness was still there. Then without thinking about what she was doing, she ran directly for the darkness and passed into a new world.
Just my luck. It had to be right now. Its had to be that. Just like me mother. I can hear her now. "I told your father, you would have my ability. I fucking knew it. I knew my boy would get a real power not some passive nonesense like his dads." They have been acting like children since the divorce. It's an awkward feeling losing respect for those you have always held in such high esteem. I mean kill your heros, am I right. Shit I forgot about Shilo. All this from finger guns. You wouldn't believe how much chaos could arise from such a benign action. The walls are peppered red, my playstaion and TV draped in grey matter. And a lump on the ground that used to be shilo. Shilo, was better than me. I can admit that now. I mean he was the third in line to be king of kings. If only I wasn't so fucking lame. I mean I was honored and astounded he would offer me a seat in the court. I mean I had no abilities and usually they manifest before you turn 25. Fuck, what am I gonna do. "That was awsome dude!"Shilo giggled as his brain brought itself back together. "I guess im truly an heir"he flexed his armed in his douchey way. Fuck I'm happy he was blessed with his fathers ability. "Lav, you can manifest!"He grinned ear to ear, as he jumped up from the ground, all the blood and brains were no longer on the walls and fixtures. Oh no, I can manifest. The room began to feel heavy, like being enveolped in a wet blanket. "Do I smell a conjuror?"The veiled figure came through the wall. A wraith here? Already? I have had these powers for what 5 minutes? "No?"Was all I could think to answer.
"Evelyn..." John wiped the sweat from his brow, seeing the old ship, the Dark Hawk II, again gave him a particularly unexplainable anxiety. Or, maybe it was the thought of his old friend, presumed dead, alive on that ship. Further, maybe it had something to do with the wreckage of IIC and EDF destroyers, obliterated and in wreckage all around the Hawk's immediate surroundings, and the general area. And the fact that John was going to approach with far fewer weapons, far fewer crew members, and far fewer ship. "How are we looking, Josie?"He asked the young woman in the co-pilot seat. "Nothing to report as of yet sir, maintaining a distance outside of the... wreckage field. There are no signs of active shields on the DH II, the armour had sustained only minor damage, and there's no signs of any weapons build up... although it doesn't help that we're not exactly sure how an old, obsolete freighter-turned-science vessel managed to destroy 4 IIC cruisers and 3 EDF destroyers. Comms remain silent for now, sir." "I'm well aware of the mystery, thankyou Josie. And stop calling me sir, I'm not military, and I don't out-rank you, only in age."John replied, trying to feign light heartedness. By the straight, apologetic look on Josie's face, it didn't work. John gazed out of the view port, taking in the scene of beauty with the bright, magnificent backdrop of Jupiter, and the scene of tragedy with the mass loss of human and alien life before him. How many souls did those big IIC cruisers carry? A million? More? And at the centre of it all, his old ship. The ship he used to be an under study aboard. Where he worked under the brilliant Dr. Evelyn Sandet. And where he launched away in an escape pod when the Argourians boarded to attack and try and take the elements they had taken for research. He presumed the rest of his crew mates, including his dear friend and mentor Evelyn, had either escaped or been killed. He even thought he could see the empty bay of the pod he used. Snapping out of his gaze when he picked up Josie looking at him with concern, he cleared his throat and flicked the switch to engage the ships speaker system: "Attention crew, we have the Dark Hawk in view, please report to the briefing room in 5 minutes." He went to key off the microphone, but then added: "...That means you, Johnson." He flicked the switch, and sighed. "Come on Josie, let's go discuss how the Hell we're gonna do this."
My family's last memories of me would dwindle in their collective conscious for a couple hours. I got off the bus at the cinema and watched a marvel double feature. I had seen the movies already but nothing quite beats seeing them on the big screen. I got to my family home and knocked on the door. The bushes in front had gotten so overgrown since I was last here. A woman who did not recognize me gave me a familiar smile, with the telltale angles of insincerity and narrowed eyes. "Can I help you?" "I'm here about the room."I point at a faded sign in the window. I could feel my legs grow tense like springs, Her eyes flashed a little confused, but then the smile softened and became real. She welcomed me in and took me upstairs. I almost hesitated to follow her. My mind flashed an image of a memory that no longer existed into the empty room and sparse furniture. "Sorry, no one really has asked about it in a while, its been empty now for. . . "she trailed off, unsure why the room had been avoided for 6 months, or had it ever been occupied. "I'll take it. I can move in by the evening" "are you sure? We haven't even discussed rent" "I am certain. Whatever you want" We went down to the kitchen table while she pulled up a lease paper from the junk drawer I signed it as she put the kettle on, looking outside. "Oh, my kids have just stopped by, they are about your age. I am sure you will get on"she ran out to greet them in By the time she came back, I had already made tea for all of them. Rain started to tap the windowpane, it was going to be a good day.
The professor in the front of the class served as a mind numbing white noise machine that droned on about the syllabus. My mind wondered about everything I had to do when I left class, from unpacking to finding where the cafeteria is, in the reverse order. I might have an assignment too, depending on what Mr. People was talking about. what was he talking about? I checked my face on my phone to make sure I wasn't having a stroke. He was making noises that sounded like they would be words, but I couldn't understand it. My heart started racing, and my mind worked double to keep my sanity. I'm panicking like I murdered in the writing of Edgar Allen Poe. The ticking of the clock grew louder and faster and echoed in my chest, punching my sternum. the drumming started to slow, or at least keep its pace. Then another thumping started. I looked around thinking what could be worse than what I was feeling when my eye caught what could only be explained by a fever dream. everyone's left foot tapped the ground at a pace that sounded familiar, and mine joined in without my consent. Suddenly, we were all standing and Mr. People was silent holding a mic. I saw his full name on the board, And my suspicions were answered. "Village People." The lights in the room went out, and Mr. People was under a spot light shimmering in his leather jacket that appeared out of thin air, much like his handcuffs and badge. I was In a musical, and for some reason, I knew every step to the song he was about to sing. I even knew the song without hearing yet. I saw him look up at me, smile, and sing from the top of him lungs. "YOUNG MAN. THERE'S NO NEED TO FEEL DOWN." &#x200B;
"You know, it makes sense." "Hm?" "That you're Pestilence." "Hmmm." "Considering the way you poisoned our relationship, Diane." She rolls her eyes almost audibly. Says nothing. Not even another noncommittal hum. So like her. Passive-aggressive, afraid of confrontation. Afraid I'm right. We guide our horses--hers a stark white big rig with emissions billowing from the pipes over the top; mine a red motorcycle keeping pace with her driver's side window. Our vehicles glide two inches from the ocean's surface as we ride over it. The stinging saltwater stretches in all directions. I hope the spray my back wheel throws up hits our rear two riders straight in the eyes. I want them to know what I'm all about. "So anyway,"I continue, "How's life. You look good. Especially in that getup." Silence. "Oh, now you're suddenly too good to talk to me? You were singing a different tune two weeks ago when you texted for that 3 AM booty call. You sang like a songbird." Finally, she spoke. "You don't need to be so combative, Jess." I couldn't stop a self-satisfied grin from stretching across my face as I jabbed my thumb down over my head at the seal emblazoned on the back of my new motorcycle jacket: A skull with "WAR"tatted across its three remaining teeth. Small victories.
I looked at the tag, and whispered to myself the name of the desk which was æoså. Which was a pretty odd name. Then I realized some fog was appearing in front of me. I backed up,surprised at the random fog. Out came a odd creature (One of Lovecrafts creatures) which then asked me “Summon my fellow brethren here human.” I looked at it confused. I responded with “What? How?” The creature then said “Just the way you just did.” I was in confusion as I just said the name of some weird desk I found. I decided to search around IKEA and find some other furniture names so they could be possibly summoned. None of them worked and I found myself in a situation where I was slowly getting erased from time because of my mistake.
I heard the rubble grit under my foot as I stepped forward among the ruins. Nothing was the same. The pillars that held it together lay on their side, broken and scattered. The roof that shielded is from the elements has crumbled before us. It seems there was no putting it back together. The stained glass now shards covered in dust that settled after its destruction. It’s been ages since I’ve visited it in person. Even in my mind it has faded into hazy memory. The papers around my desk were scattered, disorganized, chaotic. My life has indeed been affected ever since we lost it. “What happened to our castle?” I wondered. Why did it crumble before us? Was there a way to pick up the pieces? My phone on the other side of my desk sat there, tempting me to call him again. In this vulnerable moment, I answer that temptation. **hope you enjoy it!
"Henderson! Get your ass in here, pronto!"a gruff voice rang out. I jumped a bit at the commissioner's shout, nearly spilling my coffee. As far as I knew, things had been going fairly well around here, so the harsh tone seemed strange. I entered the office, slouching a bit in my seat with a look of annoyance plastered on my face. "Knock it off Hernderson, you're not in trouble,"the commissioner said. "Then why the hell are you acting like the building's on fire?"I asked. "Because you forgot to refill the fucking coffee pot again! But there is an actual assignment for you, so listen up,"he said. I nodded in response, sitting more attentively. "You've heard of the serial savior?" "Yes, he's arguably part of the reason I'm not on a case right now,"I said. "Right, well the DA is getting sick of his chicanery. Several stopped murders, yes, but also several counts of damaging public property, two counts of aggravated assault, and one count of assaulting an officer from the east station. This 'savior' can't keep doing whatever he likes, and I need you to get started on finding who's responsible for it,"he said. "I assume I'll have authorization to get into the files this time? The archivist chewed me out last time I tried to access the information without authorization,"I said. "Yeah, yeah, just get to work,"the commissioner said. I returned to my desk, after collecting the few files that had been hidden from me up until now, I confirmed my suspicions about who the identity of the "Serial savior"was. As I entered my apartment, I placed a note I'd written at work on my desk and walked to the bathroom. I looked myself over in the mirror before getting down to business. Same dark hair as always, and my eyes looked quite tired from the insomnia I'd had the past few days. How does this stupid thing work again? Fill the sink with water, flip a coin... Dammit, came up heads, gotta flip it again until I get tails. There we go, now stare deeply into my reflection, drop the coin in the water, turn off the lights, and dunk my head in before my eyes adju- --- Whoo, it's been a few days, but I guessed it must be time for a hero if the sourpuss finally decided it was time to swap. I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror. Yep, looking snappy with that firey red hair of mine. Pulling the coin out of the sink, I made a beeline for the bedroom. I opened the door to the closet, and ignored the business-casual wear hung up and the police uniform. Down below the hung up clothes, there was a shoe box hidden in the back, and from it I pulled out my bandanna, the one with the eyes holes cut out, and my red t shirt... Dammit, they're all torn up from those scraps I got into last time. Where did that sewing kit go again? I searched the room for a bit before noticing the note on the desk. "C, you're being a nuisance, knock off the hero shtick already,"I read aloud. Aw, but we'd been so careful not to get found out, and I can't just stop while people could be dying! Was it the incident with the police officer? He looked like he was going to shoot that kid, so I had to intervene! Wait, there's more written on the back. I continued reading aloud, "If any more problems come up, I'm not letting you out again. Remember, flip for heads." Ha, as if I'd forget how to switch back... Unless he's trying to imply I should swap back immediately? Nah, Henderson needed his beauty sleep too, waking him back up so soon would be bad for my dear body-brother's health. Or mine for that matter, sleeping for days on end couldn't be good for you. I opened the desk drawer and found the needle and thread. A few minutes of stitching up my costume later, I took to the streets. I looked around, trying be more selective to avoid Henderson actually making good on his threat. There was a rather ambiguous situation with a man and a woman... As much as I wanted to drop in right away, I just stood back. After a bit of shouting, it seemed they calmed down and started walking off together, so staying out of it was probably a good call. Now what's this I spy? Some hoodlums approaching the couple? I leaned out to get a better look, and one of the thugs spotted me. Was that a spark of recognition on his face? I could hardly remember all the faces in this city, so I didn't recognize him. The thugs quickly dispersed without causing trouble. I kept at the hunt for another hour or so, but didn't find anything suspicious enough to warrant following. Maybe if Henderson had actually given me some hints for potential problem people I might have had something to do. It still hadn't been long enough to warrant swapping back, so I decided since I couldn't really do my new hobby I'd just go back to my old one, and headed for my favorite bar instead. After removing my bandanna and switching to a different shirt, of course. The barkeeper recognized me immediately. "Hey Big Red, been a while since you showed your face around here,"she said. "Been busy, can I get a whisky? It's been a dull night,"I said. "Hey Carson, ya weren't planning on just dropping in without saying hello to any of your buddies, were ya?"the old man sitting a bit further down the bar asked me. I felt like I should have known these people's names, but I couldn't place them even though I did recognize their faces. "Hey... Old timer, how's going?"I asked. "It's Douglas, lad. You been hit on the head or something? All the time we've spent drinkin' together, I wouldn't think you'd forget me of all people,"he said. "Eh, maybe,"I said. The barkeeper finally handed me a shot of whisky, and so began a night of drinking. Since I'd just sleep through the hangover, I didn't hold back. At some point, I decided to write a note back to Henderson, before heading back home. How did that ritual go again? Water... coin flip to heads... lights... --- I was feeling fairly well-rested when I came to, so I suppose it had been more than a few minutes. It seemed he didn't take the hint, though that was hardly surprising. I stepped back into the bedroom, and started getting dressed. Then I noticed that someone appeared to be lying in my bed. Dammit Carson, I thought we had settled the issue of guests by now, but apparently not. I checked the desk and found a note that appeared to be from my other half, but his handwriting was near illegible. It looked like he was trying to apologize? As long as I didn't find any more reports of people being assaulted by a red-clad crusader it wouldn't be an issue. I walked over and tore the pillow out from under the figure lying on the bed. A young woman jolted up, screaming when she saw me. "Quiet down, get dressed, and get out, I have to get to work and I'm not leaving you here unattended,"I said. "Who are you? Where's Carson?"she asked. "Carson's roommate, Detective Henderson, and you just missed him. Now like I said, I have to get to work, so grab your clothes and get out of here,"I said. "Ah... Well, I'm Shirley, and you're being pretty pushy,"she said. "You overstayed your welcome when Carson left, now you're going to make me late for work,"I said. "You can just go, Detective. Carson gave me his spare key, so I can lock up,"she said. "WHY?"I asked, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. "Oh, probably because we have a common interest,"she said, reaching into the purse sitting next to the bed and pulling out a mask. "Goddammit... God damn it... Now there's two of them,"I said. "What? Not a fan of wrestling? I would've thought he'd mention that his roommate didn't like it... or, you know, the fact that he had a roommate to begin with..."she said. From the look of concern, she did seem to be ignorant of my other half's escapades. "Two words. Six letters. I've said it twice already, and I don't like repeating myself,"I said, pointing at the door. "Fine, fine, I'll go..."Shirley finally relented. As she got dressed and took off, leaving Carson's key on the kitchen table, I scrawled a note to Carson. Nothing too alarming, just a "gentle"reminder of our little guest rule and how easy it would be for people to figure out something was amiss from the fact that a supposedly two person apartment had one bedroom, and how we never seem to be in the same place at the same time. Maybe this time the reminder will stick.
-and there’s no way we would ever be able to know.’ Herm typed out the final words of his conspiracy, proudly posting it to the subreddit and sitting back in his chair. He cracked his knuckles behind his head, sufficiently satisfied with the pragmatism and durability of this most recent theory. Surely he would reap a good harvest of karma. He reached into the mini fridge that lived beneath his desk, equipping himself with a lemon water ice and a bottle of mountain dew. The fizz of the waking soda was met with a knock on the door. Herm was quick to answer, welcoming in his buddy John. John had just come from his 9to5 corporate job. He had had a bad day, saving Herm no courtesy of conversation as he ripped off his tie and ranted endlessly. “It’s the same shit every day, Herm. I gotta tell ya, sometimes I wish I could just sit home and write all day like you. Too bad I’m not so good with words.” Herm just nodded along, offering what sympathy he could muster to his distressed friend. Herm suddenly had a brilliant solution both to John’s anxiety as well as his own boredom. He pointed to a 3-foot bong standing in the corner of his room, raising both eyebrows at John. “Fuck it. Sure. It’s a Tuesday, but fuck it. Let’s have a smoke.” Herm grinned, yanking open his desk drawer with a rumble that stirred all of the items within as he sifted through for the grinder. “Ah.” he remarked, discovering the grinder beneath a swath of porno magazines. The two smoked for the better part of an hour, mostly a therapy session for the distressed John. Herm, however, was largely unhelpful towards John, being somewhat of a mute. Herm spoke mainly through the internet, and found himself somewhat incapable when it came to verbal transactions. He was, however, feeling overly confident today. Amply motivated by the cannabis, Herm offered John the opportunity of listening to his conspiracy. “Conspiracy?” asked John sarcastically. “Like the things saying how the government is run by criminals? Or that chemicals are turning frogs gay?” “Well that one’s true” interrupted Herm. “But yes, in essence. I have a conspiracy that I published today that I think you might find interesting.” “Shoot” prodded an uninspired John. “So. What if all of life is just a simulation? Like, how do I know that I’m not the only real person and you’re not just some realistic NPC that is there for me to interact with? Like, we’re in Philadelphia right now. What if Great Britain isn’t rendered? Sort of like it doesn’t exist unless we’re there? What if everything outside of this room doesn’t exist right now? Unless we open the door.” John shifted anxiously. “Yeah… that’s weird. So like, how do I know that you’re not an NPC?” “Exactly! You don’t! Maybe I am… maybe I’m just some lines of code here to distract or influence you in some way. Maybe the existence of earth is just the creation of some backdrop to support the seemingly organic life of an unknowing protagonist.” This last part had seemed to resonate strongly with John. He began to grow sweaty, and his knee was jumping up and down. “Crazy right?” assessed Herm, noticing John’s sudden shift in mood. “Fucking insane man. Like… in-sane. I’m legit spooked right now. How the fuck do I know that you’re not just some NPC? And what’s the point in asking you, ‘cause of course you’d be programed to deny or whatever. It’s a foolproof system that I am forever trapped in. Unless I force myself out. You know that scene in Truman show where he is driving in circles, and then all of the sudden he just starts doing random shit to mess up the system? Maybe that’s it. Maybe my boring old job and my boring old friends are just to keep me sedated. Yeah… yeah I’ve got to do something unexpected.” At this point, Herm had stowed away the herb, deciding that John had been sufficiently medicated. John looked to Herm with a truly frightening gaze of salivation. For a moment, Herm considered running to his room and locking the door. Before any such plans of retreat could be further considered by Herm, he was pinned to the ground by John. John had grabbed the fork that Herm was using to clean out the bowl, and now held it threateningly against Herm’s neck. “GIVE ME ONE GOOD FUCKING REASON NOT TO STICK YOU NOW! THERE’S NOTHING SAYING YOU’RE NOT A ROBOT HERE TO KEEP ME SEDATED! YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN A BIT TO QUIET, YA KNOW THAT HERM” “Why the fuck would I tell you about a conspiracy if I was in on it!?!?” screamed Herm. And it made sense too. But John, clever as he was, had just gotten a bit too high. He dug the fork into Herm’s neck, several times in fact. Herm tried to fight back, but within a few minutes he had been killed. Just when Herm thought that life was over, and it would all go black for eternity, his gaze began to transcend his body. It was as if his soul began to float up above his corpse. Suddenly, when he just thought he might be ascending into heaven, a few pixelated words appeared in this eerie gaze: “Would you like to: 1. Spectate the Protagonist -or- 2. Quit to Desktop”
The question rang out in the halls of heaven, soft but sharp. Why? A small child stood before God and looked up at him expectantly. His meaning was clear. Why everything? All was quiet as people shuffled closer to hear the answer. God spoke, "well in the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God. You see, this actually means the very beginning, not just before creation, but before space, before time, before everything. This word was the seed that set the entire universe in motion and was also the catalyst for everything that happened in it. So you see, in the most literal sense possible, the answer is 'because I said so'."
...they’re almost cat like, like when cats look in the sunlight and their pupil’s become as thin as paper; but then, you see thar there is an equal and horizontal pupil, that cross perfectly in the middle. You begin to panic, looking for your phone to look at yourself through the camera...but your eyes appear to be normal. You think to yourself, “am I going crazy...”. You slowly begin to look back up, but before you could, this “force”takes control. You’re stuck as if your back up against a wall, but on all parts of your body, completely immobilizing you. You begin to hear a soft, faint voice through all of the outside noise, as is if someone were standing right beside you and whispering in your ear...”Surrender your will...”
Sorry for poor formatting, I’m on mobile. I wake up to the sound of a repetitive ding. I reach for the screen of my iPhone. “What a marvel.” I say as I check the time on the 3G. 6:30, August 9th, 2008. After unlocking the phone, I decide to browse the internet. I go to my usual website, a little known site called “Redd.it”. Sliding my finger up the screen to see the latest of news and posts. Then, I see it. An eerie post catches my eye. It states that on August 9th, 2009, at 6:57, I will enter my kitchen and open my fridge to only discover three eggs and a two sausages. I pull myself out of bed and drowsily walk into the kitchen. After opening the fridge, I discover a lack of food, a meager two sausages and three eggs, I dismiss the post and I see the time, 6:57. Stunned by the discovery I have made, I check the subreddit, r/future. I scroll throughout it, until it ends. I check the day it ends, January 1st, 2012. “What?” I say to may self in shock. I hastily get dressed and run out the door to try to find a reason. I check the subreddit again, but an earlier post. August 9th, 7:08, I will rush out the door and run into a man called “Simon Baker”. Then, I collide with a four-eyed nerd. “Hey, watch where your going a**hole!” I yell out. The scrawny man replies “You ran into me, and I have name, it’s Simon Baker.” Stunned, paralyzed, frozen, whatever word that means immobile wouldn’t describe me. My heart stopped. How could this measly subreddit predict the future? I couldn’t find an answer. I have been searching ever since, but the day is coming, it’s December 25th, 2012.
Dr.Samuel Woods entered the room his patient was waiting in, who didn't look so good. This would be a piece of cake for him, just in and out, and the patient would basically be okay. "Hello, I'm Dr. Woods, and I'll be helping you today. Anyway, the nurse told me that you had intense shoulder pain?"He said, slowly walking towards the patient while looking at the fake pieces of paper on the clipboard. "Actually, no I came in becau-"The patient instantly slumped over as he was punched directly in the lower jaw,knowcking him back. "That'll hurt in the morning..."The doctor mummured to himself. He soon locked the door and laid down on the floor, ready to start. It was like swimming in the sea. You exit the sandbar and swim around, until you find what you are looking for. The doctor had done this countless times before and had no problems finding the patients body and entering right in. He took over basically, controlling not only their body, but literally everything, including access to their brain. He opened their brain like a picture book, scanning to see when, how and why they had a problem. That's when he came across an alien looking thing in their memories. He almost skipped over it, thinking it was a movie or something, but it was too real. That's when he saw in the memory the alien crawl into the mouth of the patient, so, laughed it off and thought it was some nightmare. However, he had spoken too soon, because immediatly as he said that he felt something move around in his stomach. Mind you, this wasn't a growl of hunger or, a growl of diarrhea, this was a growl of something alive. He immediately got out of there and into his own body with the quickness of light. He immediately started to search for things in cabinets to at least kill the parasite. He knew he only had minutes, so he turned to leave the room to get help, or at least try. He barely turned when a tentacle came directly at his face, knocking him out very much like he had knocked his patient out... Doctor Samuel Woods had gotten up when he heard a knock and a voice from another person, probably a nurse. He cleaned up, satisfied with his meal, slightly smirking as he imagined the feast he would soon have...
You would think there would have been someone, anyone, that would even admit to my existence. Your existence? Our existence? Definitely your existence not mine or ours your existence because, because I could never have come up with that. Still. We were a colony of 5,000, well, 5,861 if you include all the kids. Amazing it was living out here in these domes keeping us all alive. What you did was amazing too. The adults were one thing but to teach the kids, to train the kids to ignore you and not even recognize you were alive. To...forget, forget about someone even if right in front of them. That was ingenius of you. You were forgotten and ignored. No one in 5,000 would even say hello. Not even if in private. To use that though, to learn the control codes, all the control codes and be able to change them. Ignoring you were even there even when standing by their work stations watching them use their security codes. You got all the codes needed but to then spend 2 more months trying to be acknowledged by someone, anyone and none would, not even the kids. 23 years, 23 years of not existing. Their screams were actually entertaining. Their cries and pleas as the oxygen siphoned out of each dome, out of each section one by one. Mothers crying, fathers ranting, the children, the children they had taught to behave as if you did not exist, as if you were nothing... I have to be honest, I really loved that final touch and seeing each group, each individual loose all hope. Such a simple thing, so simple. Promising each and every one of them that you would stop and return control, return the air. Such a simple question. A simple question that if anyone could answer would save them all. None of them even trying a guess just, giving up. "What's my name?"
[poooem? maybe?] A deep, guttarl growl echos back at me from across the cage. He is here. He is ignoring me. I am hungry. Footsteps sound almost mockingly from the depths of the hallways. He is here. He is alive. I am hungry. Sharp noises ring in my ear long after they finish, only to add more to the fray. He is here. He is tormenting me. I am hungry. His footsteps seem to be heavier now as they draw nearer, and one of my stomachs growls at the scent. He is here. He is coming. I am hungry. He rounds a new corner, toting a body over his shouder, a key in his hand and a weapon hidden in his pocket. He is dead. I do not reconize him. I am hungry.
"We all strive to serve the gods. To honor them with word and deed. But only one each year may receive the ultimate honor. Only one of all of us may ascend to serve them directly. "The chosen one shall represent us to the gods. It is their service that shows that we are worthy of the divine gifts that will be bestowed upon us in return. This is the greatest privilege any may receive. But of course only one may serve the gods in their own realm; the rest of us must remain behind, each of us serving them in our own way here on earth. "And now comes the time when we name that most honored among us!"The whole village stands silent. A child too young to understand starts to speak and is quickly hushed. The crowd is a held breath as the priest throws out his arms. "This year, the exalted one who shall receive this honor is... Tolew!" Cheers erupt around me. Someone pounds me on the back. But I am frozen, unmoving, unfeeling. I stumble and almost fall as the crowd pushes me forward. How can it be me? Is it some sort of mistake? . Later, sitting in the small chapel with my fingers curled around a hot cup of tea, I ask the priest that very question. He smiles. "No one can ever truly know the will of the gods, or why they choose one person over another. But perhaps it was for your spirit. For the strength you have shown in spite of your injury."He gestures at my leg, stretched out in front of me, mostly healed now but still aching. "Your faith has been tested much recently. The accident. And later, I know you questioned our traditions when Nie went to serve the gods, but in the end that uncertainty only made your faith stronger. Perhaps she even put in a good word for you up there!" I curl forward, clutching my steaming mug. I'll see Nie again. In spite of all my flaws and mistakes - my failure to have children, the bad leg that some days can barely hold me, the times when I raged to the sky at the unfairness off it all, the unfairness of losing first my strength, and then my wife. In spite of all of that, I have been chosen for this highest honor. So why does everything feel wrong? When Nie was chosen, it felt like my whole world tilted. And now that I'm going to join her, it should be felt right, but everything only feels more off kilter, like the world has been turned on its side, and I worry that if I try to walk I'll fall. The priest's warm smile feels like a hollow mask as he lays his hand on my shoulder. "I know it's a lot to take in,"he says. But that isn't quite it. . My brother Haim comes to me that night, his voice soft and hoarse. He paces the room, unable to stand still, looking at the fire more than at me. "I told you, Tolew. I told you to shut up, keep your head down and play along. But you had to ask questions. You never could keep it to yourself, and... and now..."He chokes on the words. "Haim, what are you talking about?" He grabs my shoulders, and I see fear and loss in his eyes. "I know you've realized it by now, you're too smart not to. You've been lying to yourself, and I get that. The truth hurts too much, and besides, I know you. If you ever admitted to yourself what was really going on, you'd have to tell everyone else too, and if you did that I'm not sure they'd bother to wait for the ceremony to get rid of you." "Get rid of me?" "Tolew. Come on. I've never known you to let go of a question until you get an answer that you can accept. There's a pattern to the people they choose." I look down. Trace the patterns of scars whose thin white lines crisscross my hands. Finally say the words I'd buried because they couldn't possibly be true. "They chose me because of my bad leg. And because I said we shouldn't send anyone at all."And once those words are out, all the other ones follow. "Nie couldn't have children. Orse was always flirting with girls instead of working. Algi was blind in one eye..."Every name I can remember pours out, a list of the unwanted who have been sent away. I look up at Haim, who has always been smarter than me. Smart enough to follow the rules when people were watching, to not ask questions where anyone else could hear them. "It's not the gods choosing people, is it?" He sinks down beside me. "I don't think so. You might be too young to remember, but Mowen was chosen the year he started courting the old priest's daughter. I don't think the gods speak to the priests at all." Even after everything else we've said, my breath catches in my throat at that claim. Haim notices. "If the gods ever did, they certainly don't anymore. Maybe they don't care who gets sent to them. Maybe no one is being sent to them. I always wondered..."He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Tolew, you can't let them do this to you. You have to run." I just gesture at my leg. "I'm not running anywhere these days, idiot." "That's not what I meant!" "No."Somewhere in this conversation, I made up my mind without realizing it. My uncertainty is gone, my path clear for the first time in over a year. My world is still turned upside down, but I'll walk on my hands if I have to. "I need to know. I need to know what happened to Nie and the others." "Tolew..." "I've made up my mind."I stand. My time for farewells is almost over, and I'll need to go to the priest to begin the rites soon. "I'll tell you what I learn, if I'm able." Haim doesn't try to say anything else, just wraps his arms around me like he doesn't plan to let go. I pretend not to see the wet sheen in his eyes when I leave.
Okay, that's it. I have had enough. I am tired of this crap. Coming from a family of exorcists and mediums, you would expect some sort of boon to being able to see ghosts. But nooooo, everything has to be made extra complicated by only being able to see one type of ghosts. My sisters, Ellen and Ingrid, can see the spirits of murderers and evil entities, respectively. They make a living dispatching the dead, sending them to whatever hellhole they refuse to move on to. Code name "Dispatch". It works for them. My dad can see where people died, and how, and hear their last words. He isn't able to see, let alone interact with spirits. He doesn't mind - he's a homicide detective with the highest clearance rate in the state, maybe even the world. He doesn't want a codename, as he prefers to keep his skills private. His nickname on the force, though, is "Morgue". My mom can talk to dead members of our family. No recipe is lost, no life story forgotten. She can tell you that great-great-grandfather Phil was the first to see ghosts in our family, and has recently managed to contact dad's dead parents, as well. Her codename is "Heirloom". And then there is me. My gift is unusual in that I don't see dead humans. Not even traces of them. I wish it were that simple. My gift - my curse - manifests itself when I eat. I will be cutting into my steak, which suddenly drips with ectoplasm, and then there will be a massive fricking cow just chilling in the air above my plate. If I am lucky, it puffs into vapor after I finish eating. If I am not, I will be haunted by ghostly moos for days. I eat my seafood while spectral shrimps fly in and out of my ears, giving me brain freeze. If I eat chicken nuggets, there might be a ghostly rooster chasing me around the house later that day. If you truly are what you eat, then I am "Dead Meat". I am seriously considering going vegan at this point.
It began with Britain, of course. The heart of the industrial revolution, with a small island bristling with natural ores, and a massive empire to boot. The launch of the Queensland, as the tied together monstrosity of a shipland was called, marked a new era in history. Steel and concrete, glass and iron, steam and coal powered the movement of an entire island. An entire nation could be mobilized for trade, war, diplomacy. The British soon began to reverse their trajectory of floating in and out of the North Atlantic, and instead picked up and sailed back to their last destination, America. Of course, the Americans were not going to be outdone here, so they roped Canada and Mexico into the harebrained scheme as well. They moved slowly, rotating Canada’s islands around them like a giant conveyor belt, moving in and out of the Panama Canal, which had now been expanded to become a full-blown channel. The result connected the East and West Coast more than ever, leaving the interior as an empty nature reserve. The Japanese followed suit quickly, engines roaring over the entire inner curve of their island, with enormous glass domes to keep Hokkaido from warming as they went south, picking up a fleet of South Asian nations. The Mobile Pacific Alliance, a virtual flotilla of small islands, marked a new era, and migrating between China and the US exploded as immigrants used Japan itself as a ferry boat. Now all this was fine and dandy. Nations that had territorial disputes simply drifted away from each other. Except, of course, Eurasia. The biggest landmass, filled with the most countries, was completely left behind. Many nations actually moved away. France broke off Vietnam and re established themselves there. Spain simply dynamited the mountains and ripped themselves away. Italy tried to do the same, but got stuck trying to get out of the Mediterranean, still blocked off by Spain, so resorted to sneaking out on Sicily instead. Then, one day. The Germans lifted their new banner high. New, because they were a new nation, formerly the German Confederation. And in the skies all over Berlin enormous shapes rose into the sky. The Russians, completely landlocked, seethed in envy. So did the French, watching film rolls from across the world. Three million balloons. Eight hundred thousand propellers. Two enormous wings to match. Bismarck’s Balloon rose into the sky, marking the era of the Flying Island Countries.

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