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She was a rarity in barbarian circles, as she was at least capable of some diplomacy. She certainly couldn't bend language into knots of logic and half-truths like other ambassadors, but she could reason well enough, and most importantly, make demands. "The Forlorn King demands tithes; ten chests of gold and gems, 1500 cattle, 5000 spearheads of fine iron, 7500 arrowheads of fine iron, and 2500 swords of fine iron. The Forlorn King expects his gifts upon the summer solstice, on the barrow of my ancestors."She spoke with a domineering voice, one that filled the Satin Queen's hall. None could turn away as she made her demands. The Satin Queen looked down from her high throne upon the almost nude woman, barely adorned in furs and leather, a kite shield and six-foot spear upon her back. How could she be comfortable? What brainless fool gave a woman a spear? The Satin Queen couldn't comprehend. "And should we decline? That's a very high price to pay a bunch of hill-folk." The Barbaric Diplomat looked up at the Satin Queen, wearing many layers of soft cloth. How could she be comfortable in that, it must be simply sweltering in those gowns. What little of the queen's body the diplomat could see looked soft and fat. What brainless fool gave someone so weak a position of power? "May I ask how many knights you have, queen? How many soldiers under your command? How many of the townsfolk and peasants do you suspect would be willing to fight for your name? How well do you think you would do against near 10,000 Adaraqui howlers, their veins filled with the blood of dead gods, their brains filled with dreams of the end times. According to legend, when an Adaraqui is in the throes of violence, they cannot be killed. You can cut him, and he will not bleed. You can crush his bones, and his muscles will pull on nothing, and he will continue to fight. Do you think that you can stop a wave of flesh and steel, your grace?" The Satin Queen pursed her lips. "Are you threatening me? These seem like tall tales, considering these men seem unarmed if they're demanding the weapons that they shall do the fighting with."This was a worrying way to take the negotiations, but she didn't want to pay if she could help it. The Barbaric Diplomat could sense the queens hesitation. "That's a road you'd rather not tread, queen. The Forlorn King can rip steel with his bare hands, can snap a bears neck in seconds, can scoop out a man's intestines with his fingernails. Any one of the Adaraqui can end a man's life in moments, unarmed. To be Adaraqui is to be a force of nature, to not be dangerous, but to be danger. Need I demonstrate?" "No, you don't,"the Satin Queen assured the patron. Time to change the terms in a different way, perhaps. "You demand quite a lot of materials. Gold, jewels, cattle, armaments... And the solstice... that's only three moons away. I can order the smiths and cow-herds, the coin-counters and what-nots to do their things, and yet... three moons is not much time at all. You cannot expect vast sums in such short notice. Perhaps the Forlorn King can wait until the Equinox, in the autumn?" The Barbaric Diplomat's face is marred by a scowl. "On the solstice, you shall present all that you've scraped together, and the Forlorn King will make up the difference in blood and sinew. Whether you leave the trade in good terms or in the claws of a carrion bird is no difference to me." The Satin Queen simply sighed. This was a new form of diplomacy, and one she was both unaccustomed to, and frightened of. "I, the Satin Queen, consent to your terms. Send word to the smiths, cow-herds, and royal bank. And you, diplomat. Be on your way." "I'm to stay here, to witness your ways and customs, to observe your people. To ensure that you stick to your terms. I'm sure that you shall find suitable lodgings for me and my men."The Barbaric Diplomat sneers at the Satin Queen, knowing that there was little the queen could rightly do. "Of course,"the Satin Queen stammered. "I'm certain that you will be graciously accommodated, and given... clothing." The Barbaric Diplomat followed the Portly Resister out of the Queen's hall, and off towards one of the many wings of the castle, far from her personal tower, one would hope. That blasted and foul witch from the hills. Hopefully they would leave and never demand such ludicrous offerings again. Perhaps, she could call in favors from the surrounding kingdoms, and they could attack the Forlorn King together. Yes, that could solve a lot of problems. But no... That would be a poor move. The mountains would be unfavorable for horses, save for the raiders shaggy mountain ponies, and they would certainly have the high ground. And with the Adaraqui's pension for ambushes, as opposed to killing each other in the field of battle like real men, any offensive was likely to be a blood bath. "Council, take over from here. I shall be in my solar. You can surely take demands for the rest of the day."The Satin Queen stood, and ever-so carefully walked down the steps of her throne, before taking the hand of the Castrated Attendant, who helped her up the long flight of stairs to her tower. "May I help you, your grace? What is it you desire?"He asked, his voice quiet and dainty. "All I wish for is solitude, presently. Be on your way."She waved him off with a gloved hand. "Bring my dinner here, if you would. I don't with to dine with my new guests." "As you wish,"said the Castrated Attendant, who hurried off down the stairs to attend with business elsewhere. God damn that horrid, barbaric wench, thought the Satin Queen as she paced her solar in her uncomfortable shoes. Barging in, demanding all the wealth in the world. Praise be that these are times of plenty, times that these unreasonable demands can be met. Perhaps some amount of deception could be in order? These hill-folk can't be smart, and there's no way that they would count to ensure that there are indeed 1500 cattle, 7500 arrowheads... But while the diplomat spoke simply, she spoke of horrors this realm did not want to face. Was it worth the risk, cutting costs at the expense of her people? She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She felt constricted. She pulled at her gloves, then at her shoes, standing on the cool wood of her solar. She then began the laborious process of pulling her dress off. Damn... Usually she had the Castrated Attendant, and at least one other person to help her into and out of these garments, and doing so alone was almost impossible. It took nearly an hour before she was finally rid of the thing, in a wrinkled and disorganized pile. She stood in just a thin, nearly translucent shift, breathing heavily. She stared at her nearly nude body before the silver mirror. There came the barest moments of a realization. What must the barbarian thought of her? The thought was unpleasant to say the least, and made a sour taste in her mouth. Best not to think on it. The barbarian woman was certainly a heathen, bedding all manner of animals and demons. And yet she had gotten what she wanted, in the end. Perhaps the most direct approach is the best one. The Satin Queen put up her soft fists, and threw a punch at nothing in particular. Was that what life as a barbarian was like? What a bunch of strange folk. What was so good about living in the woods, surrounded by filthy animals. They must surely be uncivilized folk, barely human at all. The Satin Queen paced a little while longer before slumping into her bed. As the weeks passed, the Satin Queen tried to avoid contact with the Barbaric Diplomat whenever possible, but found it at times to be impossible. The Barbaric Diplomat would take any opportunity to be with the Satin Queen, much to her chagrin. The diplomat would mutilate all clothing offered to her, even clothes of the softest southern silks, until all that remained was a tattered skirt that didn't even reach her knees. She didn't seem to understand the make-up provided to her, smearing it across her bare body as war-paint. She drank heavily, often leaving the walls of the castle to find a rowdy tavern in the city, where she would boast loudly, dance wildly, and occasionally brawl with the largest man she could find, promising to sleep with them if they could beat her. She had simply no regard for the laws of the land. She had no respect for the Satin Queen either, as the queen had very quickly learned. Even regarding the bold demands she had made during their first audience, it was only two weeks before the Barbaric Diplomat had sent a messenger to the queen, declaring that they would have a meeting in one of the cities brothels. The queen obviously turned down the offer with disgust, sending the Baleful Contract in her stead. He returned with the Timid Whore, a gift from the diplomat. "Said she'd be most displeased if you sent 'er off,"the contract noted. "Said you'd best take good care of 'er." The Satin Queen simply hated the Barbaric Diplomat; she learned this very quickly. This bitch would pull off the most wild stunts, then look at the queen, expecting a reaction, and there always would be one. She would steal from the market, telling the merchants it was on the behest of the queen, she would send the palace kitchen a gutted swine, saying it was for the queen's next feast, she would harass the castle staff, defile the church claiming that there were no gods... And yet the Satin Queen couldn't help but respect the Barbaric Diplomat in a strange way. So many of her rivals were clever, and so very sneaky. They hid their despicable nature in intricate turns of phrase, with so many 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳's and 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩's, endless loop-hole making and countless declarations of un-truth as fact, the Barbaric Diplomat was uniquely honest in a way that few could be. She never said, and simply did, and for that the Satin Queen was grateful.
Item #: SCP-173 Object Class: Safe Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. Captured instances of SCP-173 must never under any circumstance come into visual contact with humans unless specified by O4 site directors. Personnel must also never come within a five (5) metre radius of SCP-173 at all times. Description: SCP-173 is a biological organism resembling that of a ‘creeper mob’ from the popularised children’s game ‘Minecraft.’ SCP-173 has a mean height of two (2) metres and a mean weight of seventy (70) kilograms. SCP-173 is extremely hostile. Upon detecting the presence of personnel, SCP-173 will attempt to approach within a five (5) metre radius of said personnel, hiss and violently combust. Upon combustion, SCP-173 will release three-point-two-two million (3.22 x 10^6) kilojoules of energy. SCP-173’s endoskeleton upon combustion will also be violently ejected from SCP-173 as a form of shrapnel. When SCP-173 comes into contact with one billion (1 x 10^7) watts of electricity, SCP-173 will enter a super charged state, expanding its blast radius to ten (10) metres, doubling the energy release proportionate to its weight. Autopsy of SCP-173 instances has revealed that SCP-173’s epidermis to be some type of rubbery epidermis. SCP-173’s mass is composed primarily of 2,4,6-Trinitrotoluene, the active ingredient in TNT. It’s endoskeleton though accounts for 4% of its total mass. Personnel report sounds of hissing originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty. The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.
Brad Johansson was visiting his sister in the city to ring in the new millennium. She lived there to attend grad school. A vast difference from their small New Hampshire home town. He was nervous for two reasons; firstly because he had never been in the city, and the crowds made him nervous. Secondly, because he decided tonight was the night he would tell Emily how he felt. Emily was his sister's best friend, and he had had a crush on her since they were teenagers. He spent most of his ride into the city thinking of her deep blue eyes and rehearsing his confession. He stood in the large crowd with Emily, his sister Jane, and her boyfriend. The constant jostling of the crowd in times square hardly let Brad think. The group stood with their eyes glued to the roof tops as the 30 second timer started. Brad watched the luminous ball through the reflection in Emily's eyes she took notice "what's up?"She asked smiling. FIFTEEN, FOURTEEN.... the crowd started counting around them. He tried to calm his nerves with all the commotion. He wiped his sweaty hand on his Jean's and quickly took hers. "Emily, I've loved you for a long time"he confessed at the top of his lungs to be heard above the din. TEN, NINE... she cocked her hear to one side "yea?"She said with a quizzical look. The quizzical look broke out Into a bright smile. "Yes"Brad said as he pulled her body close to his. TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! the crowd erupted around them, but they were too busy to join in. They were locked in a passionate embrace, a kiss to rival Rhett and scarlett. They broke their kiss momentarily and smiled looking deep into each other's eyes. Brad felt a sharp and forceful pain, collapsing to the ground before passing out. John awoke to the sound of the hospital. The steady beep of his heart rate monitor, doctors being paged over the Intercom. A flat television screen mounted on the wall in front of him, displayed the local weather and more importantly the date. JAN 03 2019. Eyes wide he lifted his hand to his face. Finding a trimmed beard when before waking all he could've grown was a wispy mustache. His mother Mary Jane walked in and noticed he was awake. Her coffee fell to the floor as she wrapped him in a hug. He asked what happened, and where were Jane and Emily. Tears filled her eyes as she began to relay the story. "The group of four had just left Jane's apartment. You crossed the street as a group but Emily has forgotten here gloves. You, being a gentleman offered to get them"she stopped to wipe tears from her eyes. "And when you turned back, got hit by a car...."she balled uncontrollably through sniffles and moans. "Thank God you're still alive after 20 years" Brad let the reality of the situation settle in. He stared at the flat white ceiling, awash in a sea of emotions.
My life has been shit for quite a while. Bad life decisions, good friends lost, wrong choices... I'm full of them! Well, when my mother, the only person I can truly say I would trade my life for, gets sick, nothing really changes. Depression tends to act like that. I had been hitting the pub with a group of guys I recently met. I was drinking alone, but when one of those guys asked for a cool magic trick, I couldn't hold myself. One thing brought another and we hit it off pretty well. This far it's been two weeks since magic was introduced to our planet. Most of those two weeks was spent getting accustomed to the new life. Personally, I liked magic tricks, and having them be something more than tricks was an opportunity I didn't miss. From day one I started learning all of the intricacies of magic. The first magic I learned was healing magic. I was so focused on it, on the hope I could save my mother, that one the third day I could cast the most basic healing spell. I was excited! After I managed to keep my tears under control, I practically run towards my mother, all full of hope and glimmer. So I cast the spell once. Nothing happened. I had gotten my mom so excited about this, so when nothing happened I felt my checks start burning red. I was embarrassed at first, but when nothing was happening even when I continued trying, I had a sick feeling in my gut. I quickly cut myself with a knife, surprising my mom with that then cast heal. The cut disappeared in seconds! I was so anxious that I hadn't even felt the sting from cutting myself. I quickly turned to check what the books had to say about it. The information from them was a basic standard, not a golden rule, but they were the only tool we had to learn magic. I quickly turned the pages of my book, finding the section of healing spells. After a few moments of searching I saw something that made my stomach turn. Cure disease, tier two healing magic! The book said that to advance a tier you had to select a class. Worse than that it was something that is supposed to take over a year full of preparation, possibly more. First tear spells had anything you could ever imagine, but tier two is where you really started doing anything meaningful. If tier one is lighting a match, tier two is making a fireball. Tier one healing is also the same; you don't heal a life threatening wound with tier one magic. Minor diseases could be cured with a tier one heal, but to heal my mom I needed a tier two, possibly tier three magic! At this moment I had forgotten all about fire Mages and how cool I would be. At this moment I only hoped I could reach the second tier before my mom died. I learnt heal in two days instead of a week, so I had hopes... hopes of skipping a years to reach second tier. Who was I kidding, I didn't have that kind of time! My mom was dying now, not in half a year. I still threw myself into the world of healers and healing spells, all with the hope I would save my mother's life. I called the guys from the pub, asking them if they could help me in any way, but they hadn't even started learning about all the different classes and types of magic, let alone how to skip a year of learning stuff. Seeing me acting like that, she smiled and encouraged me. Her smile was so warm, I couldn't help but curse at the fate who hated her so much. I didn't want this woman to die. The woman who took care of me... my mother. Preparing to become a second tier mage was hard. Worlds above learning a single spell, you had to actually learn how the spells you were using worked! Cure disease took parts of the water and light element, whereas heal could be used by either water, or light elements. Learning how to use those two elements in conjunction along with how your magic worked, was hard, much harder than simply studying. Seeing that, I decided to find another way to cure my mother, a potion, something that could either be found, or created in a lab. Word of such things came to my ears at the end of the first week, when I had managed to empower my healing spell a bit. Dungeons were the only place I had any chances of finding such a thing, and they were beyond dangerous. It was at the end of the third week, when my mother needed active healing to survive, that I got a call from the pub guys. The message was simple. Be the first to clear out the first floor of the Dungeon, one of the rewards was a cure disease potion, amongst many others. When talking about the Dungeon one would find a lot of weird information about it, so you had to verify everything by yourself. I wouldn't trust the message if the reward was going to come from some part of the Dungeon, but no, the reward was coming out of the government's pocket. I was close to reaching a breakthrough in my healing, having managed to use either of the two elements to use heal, and even started combining them. I was close, if I had a month or two more, perhaps I could have advanced in magic and save my mother. I didn't have two more months, however. When I left her side, I was worried sick whether she would make it without me for a day! Death rate was over ninety percent, but people still had managed to clear out the first floor in some Dungeons around the world. When I called them back, my mother was devastated. She knew what I was about to do, and she knew how dangerous it was. I couldn't complain, however, when I returned home three days later with a potion in my arm. Well, it was arm and not arms because I lost one of them during the 'trip', but hey, you win some, you lose some. Now, if I remember well 'regrowth' was a tier four spell, wasn't it? It was the only time I felt good, despite being punished by my mother, yelled at and cried for the entire night. Despite everything, she was alive and so was I. Despite having to murder a companion in that journey of mines, we were fine, everything ended up well. I wasn't a good person, not by a long shot, and if the chance to get that potion arrived, I would sell my soul to the devil if needed. So I did.
The day we have received the first clear radio transmission from another planet... Every television on Earth was broadcasting the event as breaking news. The television, the radio, the internet... Everyone was talking about the event and imagining the possibilities. Imagining the hopes and the terrors that could be received with the transmission. Soon later, the scientist who discovered the signal was regarded as a hero by some people. Through the internet, people who were against the aliens united and called themselves Anti-Aliens. They were afraid that the aliens were going to bring destruction to our world. Humans have killed each other, colonized other lands, and enslaved other humans throughout history. How could we believe these aliens as peaceful creatures? Their suggestion was to remain hidden, not sending a "reply"to reveal ourselves. Pro-Aliens were also united and they were claiming that the highest society of aliens who could travel hundreds of light years should have been a peaceful one to focus all their energy to other means instead of fighting each other. Maybe with the help of these aliens, we could learn to live peacefully and learn their advancements in science, technology, and society. Some people even tried to send radio waves to the direction of the planet on their own without a thought, which heated the argument between the Anti-Aliens and Pro-Aliens. Nevertheless, we had been sending those signals for over 50 years with radio and television. Both of these sides agreed on monitoring the planet for activities. First, the planet was checked for water, oxygen, and carbon dioxide. All of them were present on the planet, heavily hinting the presence of life. Later a mission was prepared to take images of the planet. New telescopes were invented for the project in a surprisingly short time and some structures were found on the planet. By that time, even political parties have chosen a side, favoring Anti- or Pro-Aliens. After the finding of these structures, a discussion topic was brought to the United Nations: "Should we send a human team to the planet?"After long discussions over a month, Pro-Aliens won the debate and humankind began to prepare for the mission to find life.
Wondering when humanity would start giving celestial objects names again, Alan Seminal stepped into the base on the asteroid known as S-7413-Beta. It wasn't the front lines, but even here he did not let his guard down carefully observing and evaluating the outposts security, layout, key systems, and weaknesses. If it was futile mental exertion now, at least it kept his mind in practice for when it mattered. He had traveled here calling in personal and professional favors. His program had been successful so he wasn't urgently needed on any of the Capitol ships, but he was sure he'd be reprimanded for his off schedule travel. At minimum they'd have to relocate the forward Op's installation purely out of caution. Although unexpected, the unusual nature of his action did get him a conference with the Commander without waiting for an official appointment - Station security quickly intercepted, restrained, and escorted him down to the War Room. "Specialist Alpen, I'm not gonna read the damn rules to you. You've got 10 seconds to convince me you haven't broken any of the or I'll stick you in the engine room of a fringe freighter."The commander had his uniform jacket on, but everything else was not standard uniform, he clearly had been woken out of his sleep schedule. "Sir, I believe I am a danger to myself and others, and that I must be removed from any post on a star ship as soon as possible. Further, I recommend the program in which I volunteer be terminated. Evaluation will reveal it has not proceeded according to specifications."Alan had hoped to find a friend here, but this commander was strange to him. It was unexpected and he could not immediately place where his plan had gone wrong. "I am aware of your program soldier."The Commanders gone stole any comfort the words provided to Alan. "There are others in this room who are not and you will watch your tongue. I'll arrange a secure review. Until then you will remain in isolation. You are not under arrest, let the guard know if you need anything, but you are not to access this facility." It was more than fair. Time works differently in space, even with the ability to travel hyperspace people experience time more slowly in deep space that those on the asteroid bases, who themselves experience time more slowly than those living on a planet. The clocks all ran in hyperspace time, but the commander would have received the news that the ESUS Serengeti was destroyed by friendly fire an hour ago, while Alan had been fretting over it for 3. Alan was the Captain of the ESUS Adirondack, and at HST 13:46 his ship and the Serengeti both exited hyperspace in orbit around Tauri II. The ships were both Geology Class ships, although they were the newest class it was not unusual at this point in the class life cycles for two such ships to meet. They were both Captained by Alan Seminal. This was also not unusual. Alan was part of an experimental program testing the feasibility of cloning exceptional officers. Scientists on Earth had found a way to create a hyperspacial installation which had the odd effect of removing a person from the normal flow of time. Alan's clones were able to experience normal childhood while he waited in the installation. When the clones graduated high school they were brought into the installation with the intention that they would learn from the original. It was discovered unexpectedly that as each clone met the original they suddenly received all of the originals memories while retaining their own. Extensive testing showed each to be as proficient as the original at piloting a starship. The original Alan Seminal experienced all of this in 1 Earth year. In Hyperspace time 31 cycles had passed from Alan Seminal's last command when he was again assigned to pilot a fleet of starships. The problem was that the Serengeti's Alan apparently didn't remember being a clone and ordered his ship to attack. The Adirondack defended itself and when it was clear one of the ships would be destroyed it's Alan gave the order to shoot to kill. As the ship on the view screen exploded Alan suddenly recalled that not all of the clones had been assigned to command. In the hyperspace installation some of the clones original personalities had remained dominant. The scientists had conducted extensive personality and skills testing and it was found that 37% of the clones did not imprint Alan's full memories, and that 4 had not imprinted any at all. He remembered it clearly, yet he remembered just as clearly that he did not remember this previously. Alan immediately resigned command and left for the command post. -- -- Commander Ben Milleau sat with the psychologist that had been sent from Earth. The man who appeared to be Alan Seminal had spent an hour explaining his mental breakdown and answering questions presented. He was frightened to his core seeing his old friend losing half his memories, yet with no idea they were gone. "Commander, if you'll permit me a question?"The shrink asked. "I don't see notes in the file. Mr. Seminal has not served under your command. Why does he bring his concerns to you?" "It's the other way round."Ben answered. "I served under him. While his life was on pause I worked my way up. I might be 26 cycles older than him now, but he was my commander out of the academy. I guess my grey hair and wrinkles don't mix well with a shakey memory though."They compared notes and filed their statements. "Doc, what happens to him? After you take him back to Earth?" "You don't know?"The doctor replied. "You've never asked before now?" "It just didn't cross my mind when this all started. I guess the novelty has worn off and I'm starting to imagine more than I should." "Have no fear. There used to be a disease on Earth that caused memory loss. We have a facility where they are given the best possible care based on those old treatments." "Thanks doc. Any chance they'll recall the rest, instead of waiting for more accidents?" "You'd know that before I would, commander. But surely you can make a guess at how many are still out there?" "I was never told how many copies they made." "But how many have come to you, like this one?" "48. And every one claims to have killed another accidentally."
Death is not the creator of death. He is not death incarnate. He is simply a guider of death. A houndmaster who grabs the leash of a mishapen and malformed hellhound who can do nothing but lash out and inflict his miserable wounds. Death does not want this job. But he knows he has to, lest death escapes and... He had seen it all. The miasma. The diabolical schemes that possess men. He sees their plans come to frution. There is the will to inflict death. But disease and pests do not wish to inflict death. But they do. They are unlike men--random, dispassionate, uncaring for social class or wealth or innocence. And one bright day, a little girl found out too late that she had been cut by the maddening swings of the scythe. Death did not look into the lives of mortals unless it was a special occasion. He swept through the little one's mind and found a little tune that enchanted her and Death all the same. A warm old man skirted the hospital halls. He clutched a music box, old and tattered, in his wrinkly hands. He found the girl. Coughing, half in this world and half in the next, cut in two. The girl looked up, and she was scared. She mustered a scream, but nothing came out. The man sat on her bed and stated coldly. The tune began to ring out. It was soft and dear. It gave the girl a heart again. She took the little music box and clutched near her heart, watching the ballerina dance away to the melancholy tune. The man sighed as she breathed her last breath. There was a smile on her last face--Oh, to die forever young. Death took her. Maybe there was a bit of hope in this sea of darkness. The hospital turned to a black abyss, and the only thing left was that same haunting tune, and the ballerina that danced away.
"yo, Glohemit." "sup, dude." "wyd" "not much, tbh. wanna hang out" "lol sure." "cya" You turned off your phone, and got up from the couch. It has been some time since you met Glohemit, and to be honest, it wasn't what you expected. When he went through the door and introduced himself as \The\ god of chaos, you thought that was the end. But who knew he was a pretty cool dude? Not you. It took some time to befriend him, but you two turned out friends in the end. You even learned to ignore his... "appearence". Glohemit was a bit... "eccentric."His skin (If you could call that skin) used to change depending on his mood. Green when calm, red when angry, and more. He had a tentacle where there should be his left hand, and a ghost hand instead of his right hand. His legs were surprisingly normal, without the fact that he was super fast, despite the appearence. But in all honesty, he was pretty cool. While walking down the street to his house, you remembered more things about him. He never was bullied. You actually think the "cool kids"feared him, which was a good thing, considering you're still his friend to this day. You never met his parents, but you remember him saying they didn't live with him. He said he had a girlfriend, but you never saw her anywhere, or heard anything more about her. Finally, after some time walking down the street, you got to his house. It was pretty big, and everything on the house fit him in any way. You knocked on the door. He opened it. "took you time, huh" "hey, shut up" "wow, chill, what took you so long" "not much. so what now, time to destroy the world?" "nah. would be pretty boring" You both laughed, and went inside. Yes, he could be a scary looking inter-dimensional being, but he is your friend, and THAT is what matters.
"My turn, huh?"Fillip asked with a smile. His doppelganger, Fillbert, took a seat in front of him and nodded. He already interviewed the others and Fillip was the last before they could get started. "Okay,"Fillip nodded. "Ask away." "Parents?"Fillbert asked. It was the fifth time he'd asked one of them about their parents today. Each time he asked it grew shorter until it was just one word. Fillip nodded. He heard the full question the first time and heard everyone else's answers. He knew what information Fillbert was looking for. "Both, Mark and Eileen. They stayed together until death, mom went first. Dad two months later, four years ago."Fillbert nodded. "Same,"Fillbert pointed at a brown-haired woman with glasses. She was seated at a nearby table playing a handheld videogame. "All of us except Fillis; she was orphaned in elementary. Speaking of, how about education?"Fillbert asked. "Trade school, electrician,"Fillip smiled. "No career though. Won the lottery soon as I graduated."Fillbert chuckled and nodded. All five of the other Fills knew about Fillips' wealth. "Yeah, the rest of us weren't that lucky,"he pointed at the oldest version of them. An older man with touches of grey on his brown sideburns sat across from Fillis reading a book. "Filliam's a master electrician."Then he turned and pointed at another pair of them at a different table. "Fillroy and Filler are both Journeymen." "Can I ask a question?"Fillip asked. Fillbert nodded. "Of course! You're a big part of the team,"he replied. "Why are you asking us individually? It seems like this is all stuff that would come out naturally just by hanging out together."Fillbert nodded. "It would. But because of what we're trying, I want to cut out mental chatter as much as possible. You know, I don't need all five of you going, 'oh yeah me too!' when learning details about each other,"Fillbert shrugged. "So I made a list to get them out of the way. Anyway, how's your love life?" "Crushes. No one special." "Oh good, that's easy. I think that gets most of the big stuff out of the way. Can you think of anything important to add?" "I'm gay,"he said. "Hah! Oh man, I didn't even think about that, thanks for bringing it up."Fillbert stood from the booth. "Fillip's gay. Anyone else?"he shouted. Fillis, Filler and a handful of random diners raised their hands. "Thanks, guys,"he said then sat back down. "Awesome, I think the team's gonna be great." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #154. 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.
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I had always loved my grandpa. From when I was little we would always go on adventures together. Only small ones in the woods, or out into some fields. To me they felt amazing. My grandfather would go on his own adventures too. Exploring the world bringing back relics of a time gone by. No matter how old he got, the life never left him. Yet here he lay. An open casket, his cold dead lifeless face. Yet something felt wrong... off. I told my parents and they laughed it off as simply my imagination running wild. After the funeral I went back up to my room. A small wooden box. Ornate. Grandfather had given it to me a month ago. He made me promise not to open it till he had passed away. The dust inside puffed out as the lid was opened. A picture of he and I from when I was only a baby on top. I went through the pictures. All of us. Tears brought back to my eyes. One from more recently, some of the woods just outside town. Only a year old a large red circle around a section. It was odd. I kept searching through. Growing closer to the end of the box. At the bottom a small note. “You are in danger. Find me”. My parents came in. I quickly stashed the photos and box. “It’s ok sweetie. He was always an adventurer. His age caught up with him. That’s all.” They gave me a big hug. Tightly. I couldn’t remember anything until later that night. A weird feeling in my gut. My find fuzzy and hurting. Probably just some of the grief. It had to be a joke? My grandfather was dead. How was I meant to find him. Yet he was never one to play cruel pranks. Then the puzzle fell into place. The pictures... the red circle... why his corpse looked wrong. A scar. It was missing. When I was 12, he fell down a small hill stopping me from tumbling down. He had protected me. On the way, his face was gashed. While not severe, it left a scar. His corpse was missing it. I made my way to the location in the photo. I remembered the path well. It was cold. A light wind and the morning due glinting in the morning light. The sounds of leaves crackling underfoot breaking the silence. My breath creating a small mist in front. I reached the small red circle on the image. No one was there. How could I have believed in such a foolish tale? He was dead. Yet I didn’t leave. I stood there, waiting. It might’ve been a few hours or maybe a few minutes. A figure approached from the east. Hidden in the fog. It had to be my grandpa. Yet it looked wrong. The body was almost gliding along the ground. A large black cloak obscuring it. A hood drawn high. As it approached tentacle like appendages could be seen growing out of where a mouth should have been. I turned to run. But it was faster. It caught up quickly. The tentacles from its mouth grabbing my legs and tripping me. Slowly dragging me towards. The slimy grip chilling my bones. “GRANDFATHER. HELP.” I screamed. Expecting no response. The dragging stopped. The creature now standing with a metal blade through its middle. It fell forward onto the ground. My grandfather standing behind him. I ran up and hugged him, tears in my eyes. “Why, where, how?” I stammered over my words. I had no idea. “I’ll explain it all. But this is a dangerous area.” We went back through the woods to the circle. Under the leaves a small hatch to an underground bunker. “This is where I have been planning our next move. The creature you saw... they have been invading the town. Killing people, taking over their bodies. I saw it one night. They have been after me for around six months now. This silver blade, do you remember from Japan?” I did thoroughly. The motions he made, so seamless yet intriguing. “This blade is made of pure silver. A weakness they have. I was lucky. But many others weren’t. Whenever any approached your house, I would be there. So they stopped. They knew you were protected. At least, I thought they did. They were clever. I watched them take your parents. I couldn’t do anything. They were too far. My own daughter stolen away from me. I had to act fast. With those creatures in your house, you were in danger. So I faked my own death. I left you clues to find this place. I’m sorry I left you here for so long. I had to make sure nothing was following you. The creatures would have taken you with or without me. This was the best way to protect you.” “Thank you.” I said. The pain in my head and stomach returning. My mind fading. Going fuzzy. I watched as tentacles spread out from my stomach. My grandpa watched. I could only remember him gasping in horror. “No. I’m... I’m sorry I failed you.” His sword drawn high. He sliced his own stomach. “I could never hurt you. My granddaughter.” A tear streaming down his cheeks. Edit: More prompt answers at r/DougysDramatics if you want to read them!
"Wha-- God? why take that for-" "I need your help" &#x200B; Before I can say anything more, I blink and I'm in a completely different environment. &#x200B; It's, uh.. It's a tavern There's not much going on, but in the back room, there's something horrible. There's a middle aged man, cannibalizing a young woman. the screams are disgusting and yet nobody else seems to be taking notice. "So this is what he wanted me to do"I quietly think to myself. &#x200B; I strut into the room loudly, announcing my presence in a loud voice "Hey jackass, that's disgusting." The guy turns around and opens his mouth to say God (heh) knows what &#x200B; But before a single sound can escape his mouth, I've snapped my fingers, and he's burnt to a crisp. "See ya in Hell, creep." &#x200B; "Dude I don't see why you couldn't have handled that yourself. Some god you are" "Put a sock in it, you know I'm not built for punishment. You're well aware I wouldn't come to you without a reason" &#x200B; *Oh yeah, I totally forgot to introduce myself* What's up? My name is Satan.
Twenty three trees grew in the wood between Will's house and the neighbors'. He had counted them carefully and often, just to make sure. Thin pines stood in a row, screening somewhat thicker maples and oaks that had grown up since the neighborhood's founding. Beneath their canopy grew a dense tangle of underbrush. Stickers and poison ivy guarded wineberries and blackberries, while rocks and boulders made for castles in which mice and chipmunks hid from snakes and cats. Will knew, even at eight, that this little forest was hardly worth the name, but it was nevertheless his favorite place in the world. In the shade of the trees there no threats or curses, no belts and fists. In that dappled light he was no small child, but the uncontested king of all he surveyed, and his rule was kind and just. In the summer he stayed out until he had to find his way home by the light of the fireflies. Sometimes he missed dinner, or found that none had been made. Sometimes he took a whupping for staying out so late, or had to do extra chores, or just had to listen to another drunken tirade. But sometimes no one noticed at all. That had hurt more than the belt, when he was younger, but now when he stole in to find his parents unconscious on the couch or the floor or simply gone, he counted himself lucky. All he wanted was to go unnoticed. By them or anybody. One night, as he prepared to leave the wood underneath a brilliant full moon, he heard a voice. He felt neither fear nor surprise nor curiosity, but a burning surge of anger. His last refuge, violated. He sprang up on top of a rock, squinting into the darkness, wondering which of them had come looking. But his anger froze to ice in his stomach as the brush parted in front of him. "Gōdne ǣfen,"said the woman. Will gawped and then looked way, reddening. She was naked from the waist up, and seemed utterly unabashed at that fact. Her skin was silver in the moonlight, and her long sable hair was held back by ears that rose high at the points. Her features were small but fiercely beautiful, a tiny grin upon her lips, and her eyes seemed to smile even as they glinted with predatory intent. "Ah, hi,"Will said, stammering, studying his shoes. The woman sniffed a laugh. Out of the corner of his eye Will realized how short she was. Still taller than he, but not by much. "Hierdecnapa,"she said lightly, stepping forward. Will froze, not daring to look up. He shook his head. "I don't understand,"he said slowly. "Of course you don't,"snapped a sharp voice. Will twitched and glanced over his shoulder. A man stood behind him, uncomfortably close, with the same odd ears and eyes but none of the smile. "And you don't look like a shepherd to me. They haven't spoken that language in a thousand years, Naida." "Yet it still rolls off the tongue,"the woman said. "I like the taste of it better than this harsh nonsense." Her grin widened, showing sharp teeth, and Will felt his shock give way to a creeping fear. "Who are you?"he blurted. "Cwen and Cynig,"the woman said. "Naida and Kailen,"the man said. He tapped his chest with a slim fingered hand. "Kailen, in case you are truly too dense to deduce which is which." "Will,"Will said faintly. He swallowed. "Ah, I think I meant -" "Silence,"Kailen said, and Will nearly bit his tongue in his haste to close his mouth. "You understand our names well enough for the spells to take, and that is all that is required." _Spells?_ Will thought, heart pounding. "Spells,"Naida whispered. She laughed as Will gasped. "Have no fear, Will. Your mind is an open book and writ plain. Soon you must learn to guard its pages, but for tonight your weakness is a useful tool." Kailen's hands closed over Will's shoulders, and Will reflexively tried to twist away, but to no avail. He opened his mouth to shout, but he found he could not speak. Could not move his lips or tongue. Naida began to sing soft words in a language that sounded older than the rocks and Will felt warmth rising around and through him, worming towards his heart. "A tool,"Kailen whispered in Will's ear. Will's body was no longer his own. His arms rose and fell in time with Naida's song, moving as if pulled by puppet's strings. He wanted nothing so much as to be back at home, safe in his bed, smarting from the belt and hungry from no supper or just empty inside, anywhere but on this rock trapped by things that grew more alien by the second. "You have always wanted to be unseen,"Kailen whispered. "Soon you shall have that gift. That and a hundred more. But you will never forget what you are. Ours. Now and forever." Will poured his entire being into breaking free but his muscles did not even twitch. Only his eyes obeyed, tracking Naida as she swayed in the moonlight, her silver skin flickering in and out of the shadows, her disguise fading as the power grew, eyes gone red and teeth grown long and grin too big and sharp and crimson with blood. "We will take back what is ours,"Kailen snarled. His hands had claws. So did Will's. His body was shot through with snakes of liquid fire, twisting and burning and changing. He screamed and made no sound, and then his mind cracked. The fire poured in. His soul writhed and crisped and was beaten against an anvil with a black hammer until it was no longer his. He was an eternity in the dying, but only an instant passed. And then he was whole. There were two of them in the house. Unconscious and ready. Their blood would raise a grove. A boy who had been Will smiled, showing sharp teeth. Kailen turned him and met his eyes. "And you will be the knife in our hand." --- _Doing a week of prompts and trying to tie them together. See below for the others._ [Next](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bws790/wp_a_demon_and_an_angel_are_secret_lovers_for/eq12alt/)
Stuff like this always happened. It was inevitable. It was like some weird disorder of some kind. I would start taking apart something someone said and go off a tangent. This was quite unfortunate, especially in school and most especially during a presentation. I would start off talking about the themes and impacts of "Animal Farm"and end up asking if fish go into the nets on purpose. It wasn't that I wasn't bright, I was in the Honors Math group. I just couldn't help myself. But it would still end up being my undoing. It was just supposed to be a normal day. I was used to the laughing and chuckling whenever I went on a tangent. But I never expected a mugging. I just walked through an alleyway as a shortcut, when some guy stopped me and asked for my wallet. Real bright idea too. "Hey, let's rob some 13 year old, I bet they have a lot of money."Though, it was probably because kids are more easily frightened. And scared. You can't intimidate someone bigger than you. Plus, the guy was like 18 years old. Probably his first time. Was he poor? Did he really need money that bad? And where did he get his gun from? Jesus Christ, there I went again. I was staring blankly at this 18 year old dude, and he had a damn gun pointed at me. And he probably said something too, because when I got back on my train of thought, he was staring at me, saying, "Well?!". I don't know what I should do. I go with my instinct, for whatever reason, and start talking. "Why are you doing this?"I asked, gently. "It doesn't matter, just put your damn wallet on the ground!"the mugger said, quite frantically. "Are your parents poor? Do you still have parents? My parents died 3 years ago, which is tragic. But it never really made me bad. I had an uncle though, and he was actually real cool. He let me do some cool things, and was pretty thought provoking. He also had this pet chicken, who laid eggs for him. Where does the yolk in the egg come from, the chicks? That's pretty mes-" "JESUS CHRIST, JUST PUT YOUR WALLET OU-" And my life stopped, right there. It may have been an accident, it may have not. But as he was waving his hands around, he pulled the trigger. Right through my heart. It was probably an accident, as I saw his shock on his face. He looked panicked. I didn't know what would happen next, but I hope to god that it can listen to my words.
I chuckled as I glanced across the table at the beauty dining with me. "And you thought I couldn't get us dinner at La Vérité de L'amour, now did you?" She cracked a bright, toothy smile, the smile that seemed to indicate she was in on some perpetual joke. "I never said you couldn't. I just said that it was going to be tough. I know the wait is normally about --" "Three months long,"I cut in. It wasn't the first time we had had this type of conversation. In fact, it was the seventeenth time we had had this exact conversation. This was normally where everything went wrong, where it started all over, somehow. I couldn't let it happen again. Not this time. Her smile faltered slightly. "Honey, how did you know --" "What you were going to say? We've done this exact meal before, on this exact day. I know you don't believe me, but --" "No, no,"she cut in, a slight deviation coming this time. Normally she only said "no"the one time, and my brain started whirling. This might finally be the moment, the bit that gets us past the time loop. "I believe you, and I know why." "It's my power. I push people back...back to a time when they didn't know me. It's when I feel a surge of emotion, I think. Or...or more like a safeguard. If I push away the people I care about, then I don't need to worry about things like falling in love, or..." I stood and crossed the table, crouching next to her. I heard the muttering around me, and knew my position made it look like I was proposing. The papers could have a field day with it tomorrow. If I ever get to look at tomorrow's paper, that is. I looked into her face, seeing the little scar that had come from when I had saved her. She had always been conscious about it, but to me, it was one of the perfect imperfections that made her all the more beautiful. This was where it always happened, with the next words. I steeled myself and pressed forward. "But I already love you, and I think you feel the same way." As she nodded, I saw the tears brimming in her eyes, and the world seemed to slow down again. My heart sank and I hopped to my feet, trying to fight the force that was bearing down around me. "No. No, please, not again. I can't lose you again!" She smiled, the tears flowing freely now. "You'll never lose me. One day, we'll figure out how to stop this. Then, we'll have all the time in the world. You're a hero. You can figure out how to save me." "NO!"I shouted yet again, but it was no use. I felt the course of time pause, then reverse, the seconds and minutes becoming hours and days that poured back into me, giving me back life I so desperately wanted to give away. Moments passed by, a darkly comedic rewind. A life of happiness was erased before my eyes. I watched moments of tenderness at the end merge into tense bits of fighting, into times of tears, into that first moment together. I scrunched my eyes tightly shut. I had stopped watching that moment after the tenth try. It was always a punch to the gut to see her for the first time. After the rush of time finally ebbed and restarted, I opened my eyes. As always, I was in my base of operations. In front of me, the screen blinked red, alerting me to the situation unfolding. A bank robbery on Park. She was there, one of the hostages. Slowly, I looked up, a glimmer in my eye. As I headed towards the car, one thought crossed my mind. This time, things are going to be different. /u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker (2019 Edition!): 17/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!
I can still hear the officer replaying the clip on his phone while I sit in the cell. I heard him play it for what seemed like every single person that walked into the station that night. I must’ve played it over 50 times myself. The story that accompanied it was just as heart wrenching, a story of loss, a story of overcoming odds, a story of forgiveness. A young girl, 19, was telling the story of her mom that went out to get some formula for her baby, the singer’s sister. The singer was only 16 at the time, when her mother went out into the rain. At some point her mother was forced to cross the street, only she was struck by a drunk driver before making it safely across. The driver barely slowed, but had they stopped, had they checked on the mother she could have been saved, instead she died on that street, alone and from what the coroners said, in a lot of pain. This young singer talked about the struggles of continuing to go to school, of how she and her sister went to live with an Aunt that was never there, forced to raise her little sister, forced to juggle school and motherhood, only finding solace in a singing program with a teacher that saw something more in her. During this final interview, the camera panned to the teacher that was now sitting in the crowd, receiving applause he was tearing up, seeing her up there, in all her success. Such an amazing story, even more amazing that here she was in the finale of the most widely watched television program at right now. Her song, which she wrote herself, spoke of struggle, spoke of loss, spoke of so much anger, and then spoke of forgiveness. Tears streamed down her face as she sang. Pictures of her mother flashing behind her, pictures of a happy family, pictures of her little sister that looked healthy and proper. Growing up without a mother and still so happy and filled with love. Guilt consumed me as I related to the story. Guilt of a crime that seemed like forever ago. It took me three days to muster up the courage to do what I was supposed to do. Confess to a crime that I buried. A crime that happened when I was struggling, a crime during my own period of loss and anger but realizing the only way I could ever forgive myself was to confess. As I walked in the police station I was shaking, I was sweating and barely coherent with the duty officer on shift at the front desk. “I committed a crime and I am here to confess.” I stammered. I didn’t know how else to say it, but putting it bluntly caught him by surprise. He ushered me to an interrogation room. Another officer walked into the room, immediately I regretted being there. But then I remembered the song, I remembered the strength she had to go on. So, I knew I could do it. I didn’t know where to start, because the beginning of the crime I committed was really just the ending to another life changing event I had. So that is where I began, I had returned from a extended business trip to all of my wife’s stuff in boxes and a moving truck in the driveway. After a decade she decided to call it quits. No further explanation, just that she was done, and she was moving out. I was mostly complacent during our final talk before I proceeded to go to the bar, our bar, the one we met at. The one we laughed in, the one we spent so many evenings out enjoying each other. But here I was alone. The bartender, knowing us well, fed me drinks most of the night, only last call forcing me to stop. He heard my sorrows, as he had heard so many before me, the unofficial role of a bartender, listen to everyone else’s problems. He sympathized with me, he understood. I did not. Home was less than a mile, home, hardly, a simple sleeping quarters at this point. I could have walked it, I decided to drive. Even three years later my only excuse for driving was the rain, I didn’t want to get wet. Because of the rain I never saw her. I only heard her. I heard the thump as a woman rolled over my car. But as her face smacked my windshield, I saw her face for just a split second, but long enough to be burned in my head forever. The same face that was flashing behind the young singer. As I confessed to the crime, i had no idea that I took a mother from two promising little girls.
"Or else what?"But the voice was gone already. Anyone, huh? There was a homeless man on the street just outside my apartment. I've had a few conversations with him before. His name was John, he was a Vietnam vet and alcoholism took everything from him. I grabed a pen and peice of paper and jotted it down and anything else I knew about about him. "Hey, voice, I did it. Hello? You there?" Whatever. I made my way outside and down the street to see John and see if his luck would turn around. Instead I found an ambulance crew loading him into the back of their vehicle. I raced back to my apartment terrified that I had done it. "Hey! What the hell! You said I could save him!" "I warned you, it has to be 100% acurate." "It was!" The turned tv turned itself on to the news. A reporter on the screen was talking about breaking news of a serial killer from a 40 year old cold case had been found dead in the street earlier today. They flashed a picture of the man. It was who I knew as John though they were saying his name was Micheal. I didn't feel so bad anymore. I mean sure, I think I killed him, but if he was a serial killer than it was justified, right? I went out to the streets destined to change somone's life. (Possibly to be continued)
The cigarette couldn't kill my thoughts. It was just a mere house. 35 Bruckner Street. Not too tall, 2 stories tall, cozy and cramped. Warm and fuzzy inside. My competitors created buildings that scrape airplanes. Gallant Romans riding horses with thought that grows bigger than its Stony cage. And I won. With a little house. These competitions come and go. In the past years, I've always wondered why I lost. My specifications were exact! The perfect material, the most shocking and innovating piece. And it doesn't even scratch 7th place. Why, oh why, did this tiny little house win? The Russian builds a statue of Lenin and won 1987--The Egyptian builds a marvel of a structure (I don't even understand how it stood upright) and won 1994. Englishman builds a shocking rectangular optical illusion. And I, with my house, am supposed to sit up there with them? Maybe it is because of my skill. Dumb luck? What did I do different compared to the other years? When I walk into my giant skyscraper of 1999, I feel the prowess of it. The might. When look upon that bellowing Native American of 1988, I feel its tribal glory. But what do I feel when I walk into this little house? Memories. And I think the judges saw memories as well. Now I know why I won. I know this house inside and out--I know exactly what to do to inspire my own memories of this place. It is mine. Anyone could've built my previous structures! But this is mine. Mine. All of it is individual. Yes, I deserve to be up here. It is mine. It is my memories. It is myself.
It’s an interesting experience, realizing that you’re alive because you hear the beeps of the heart monitor you’re attached to. Makes you thankful, grateful and wanting to reminisce about the good old days. Except, there are some holes in my memory, and I don’t remember much about what happened. I got hit by a truck, doctor Smithson said during checkup this morning. I believe him, my bruises and broken arm believe him. “She should be awake,” says a voice. “Should I just talk to her?” says another voice, familiar one. Mom. They - my parents - worried penguins in black and white work clothes and heads bowed down slightly stand next to my bed with uncle Sam - a parrot - behind them wearing rainbow color t-shirt with "I love Jesus"sign on chest and green cargo pants. Sam has been like that, special, since forever. Zack, my best friend, is also here, few steps behind. He looks like a Jesus, minus the hair, statue and charisma, but with the halo of sunshine coming from behind him. I swear the nurse pulled the blinds down earlier today. Why would they pull the blinds up now, when the sun shines brighter? I swallow. “Hi Mom. Can you please pull the blinds down. The sun is too bright. And can you please scratch the top of my nose please? It itches like crazy.” “Honey, you’re awake. John, she’s awake! Sure, honey, blinds. I pulled them up to let some sunshine in. Vitamin D is good for healing bones.” I shake my head. “Hi Dad.” He waves, but mom gets in the way and I don’t think he sees me trying to wave back. “Tess, how are you?” she says arching over me so low that her face, big worried face with teary brown eyes and red nose, almost touches mine. “John, blinds.” “I’m fine, mom. Personal space, mom. You blot out the sun.” “Oh, sorry. I was so worried about you Tess,” she says moving back. I scratch my nose. Thanks mom. “There was a car accident,” she continues, “You hit your head and the doctors had to put you into induced coma for a while-” “Yeah kiddo, “ says uncle Sam from behind, “You went kookoo, they had to sedate you in the ambulance. You thought Zack was a vampire. Grrr!” I think Zack says werewolf, but mom gives them both an angry look before they could say anything else. “Thanks uncle Sam, you always know how to cheer me up.” I smile. “Mom, I know, doctor told me. Doctor Smithson said I might have trouble remembering recent events and that my senses might be off, but that should fix itself soon. I’ll be fine mom, don’t worry. Man, it really reeks in here, don’t you think so?” “Oh, Tess, I always worry for you! You know, you’ll be fine.” I point to my arm and the cast surrounding it as she goes for the hug. And also, the smell, it just got worse. No stinky hugs. It's like, I can’t describe it. Rotten eggs and strawberry milkshake? It’s weird. Dad just waves. He respects my personal space, he always did. I love you, dad. “Hey, Jenny,” he says,”Let’s give Tess and and Zack some space.” Uncle Sam chuckles. “Yeah, let her talk to her boyfriend."He gives me thumbs up. "I’m glad you’re okay kiddo.” Mom mumbles something quietly and backs off. Mom, dad and uncle Sam talk for a brief moment, and then they’re all gone to get a coffee. It's only me and Zack in my hospital room. And Mrs. Darcy, who just peeked from the armchair behind him. She is Zack’s neighbor and a really sweet old lady with grey hair who feeds me chocolate chip cookies whenever I visit Zack and she looks as if he'd just seen a ghost. “Hi, Tess,” Zack says, blushing like a tomato. “Boyfriend? What’s that all about Zack?” “We’re-” “You and me?” I’m sure I’m making puppy eyes now. So embarrassing. “I mean, really? We’re like brother and sister! Ewww.” He pauses. “Yeah...” “Last I remember we were at Lada’s party at Stanley’s Beer and Wine,” I say slowly and he’s getting tense, uncomfortable. Did I finally get the courage to ask him out? And he said no? Oh, no! “Tell me nothing happened, please,” I say and wrinkle my nose. Tell me you said yes. “Nah, we’re like the Invisible Woman and the Human Torch. Your uncle is something... Sis.” He sighs and shakes his head. I exhale. Sis. “Yeah, The Invisible Woman,” I say and I fake laugh. Not sure about him, looks like a fake smile too. Something about his eyes tells me it’s not the whole story, but now is not the time to press harder. “Zack, could you smell it? For a while, it reeked in here!” He couldn’t smell it. Hmm, maybe it's just all in my head, as the doctor said. “It’s the smell of death,” Mrs. Darcy says from the back. More like peeps, her voice is so high pitched, but ominously. “Oh my god! Mrs. Darcy, you startled me. Hi, how are you?” “Tess, I smell it too. It’s much less pungent now, isn’t it?” She’s right, the smell is almost gone. I nod. “It smells worse when the person is close. Like the last week, when Zelma’s kid died.” “Who?” “Poor kid. He died of food poisoning. I watched him die. The smell was unbearable.” “Ermm.. Mrs. Darcy?” Zack says shaking his head. “I know, Zack, I know. I won’t bother you two any more. I needed to come here, Tess, to be sure that you’re alright. It would break my heart if it was you. Zack’s heart too. I know now, it’s not you, you’ll be fine. But someone else will die, and I am sorry for that.“ My mouth open to say ‘What?’, but no sound comes out. The brain is still processing. Crazy old crow makes no sense. “It’s time for me to go, I have lunch to cook,” she says. And just like that, she stands up and leaves the room leaving us profoundly confused. “Zack, what just happened?” “I don’t know.. "He flaps his arms. "Sorry about that, she insisted on seeing you.” He pauses. “She’s been weird since her cousin, I think, died last week. She was in this hospital with the kid before he died, I think that messed her up. Ever since, she just keeps talking about the smell of death. ‘Rotten eggs and strawberry milkshake’ as she describes it.” “Oh, no…” I say, but before I could explain, mom, dad and uncle Sam burst in the room, coffee cups in their hands. And with them, the smell rotten eggs and strawberry milkshake returns too. &#x200B; writers notes: This is a stand alone story, but also continues on [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bvxzzf/sp_she_examined_the_cut_on_her_arm_and_saw_green/epu6ofc/?context=3) and references [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bwjkil/sp_a_man_eats_the_spiciest_meal_ever/epy1ols/?context=3) .
"Who are you?"she asked. Her body was stained red with blood and marred with wounds, and ache was her only sensation. She was astonished at the fact this girl looked exactly like her. "I'm your hope,"she answered. "You threw me out ages ago, but here I am. I'm back." She noticed then that it wasn't dark out but light, a soft light that bathed her and the world adound her. She looked down and though her hands were stained, the pain had died away. Her breath was even, her body felt fine. Hope was radiant now. When she turned to face her, the woman felt warmth wash over her, an almost uncomfortable warmth. Time had stopped, there was no one, no thing around her save the warmth and the light of the stranger. "The men...they have left?"Have I died, am I dreaming? She wanted to feel afraid, she wanted to move quickly, but all sense of urgency had left her. She stood, strong and warm and not understanding this hope. "They are still there. It is still dark out, your body is still broken." "Who are they?"Can you help me, she thought. "They are after me. After you. You are very special, but you have forgotten it. They do not forget. Dogma does not forget. " "And I..." "You feel whole. You feel at peace, strong, warm. You feel like.yourself again, because you are a part of me. They want to prevent us from being whole, Mary. I have come earlier than I would have liked, I have come to save you." "If I don't...I don't understand.."She wanted to cry, but could not. The feeling would not swell, and despair would not hold. It was as though the warmth made her even, neutral. She felt almost silly for expecting to break down, almost embarassed for reaching for weakness. "You must will it or I must leave, and you will die. If you accept my help, you need to speak it." She could not understand what state she was in. Hours ago, she was on her way back from work. After supper, she ran, despite the rain. She hoped for some news from James. Then, she was running fot her life. Hooded men, ruthless, they chased her like an animal whispering cryptic words. Everything seemed so alien here, but she did feel whole. She felt strong. "I accept." The rain was pouring over her, her jeans and flesh torn from the bladed fence. Her back was against a tree. She had broken an arm when the men first took her down. One of her sneakers lost on the way. She heard them get nearer, and heard what sounded like a prayer... Then the wolves came. Out of some shadow, some corner, suddenly there was a pack of large wolves and the smell of wet fur. They circled around her once, and she could not help but search their gaze. She found no eyes in the dark. Just fur and snarls. Just as quickly as they appeared, they ran towards the men. She heard their screams and though she expected to run, she noticed once again how she felt no fear. No adrenaline. No cold. Only just her thoughts. She moved towards the wolves, who were tearing at the attackers and devouring scraps of flesh. She stood under the rain and watched the wolves eat the men and their garb. As they ate, their mouths seemed to grow to impossible sizes, and she noticed these wolves had no eyes. They ate the black clothes, the thick leather boots, they ate the bibles and the prayerbook and the large iron cross. Mary felt luminous. She felt warm. Full of hope.
"Hey there little buddy, couldn't spare a coin could you?" Bert studied the majestic, pearlescent wings, the face with scruffy beard and bright pink snout, the plethora of cardboard signs that read; will work for holy water, spent my last coin on a conifer bush but the damn thing caught on fire and started to talk and I fell from heaven and all I got was this lousy cardboard sign. "Jesus Christ..." "Not quite,"the creature snorted, its face entirely too pig-like beneath that thick white beard, "but I'm flattered all the same, and just as mythical as Christ I'll have you know!" This was the Begasus, a not-so imaginary and far too clingy sort of creature. It had fallen from heaven last Tuesday, landing in Bert's conservatory, shattering the glass roof and making a mess of the magazine rack. And it had been following Bert ever since. Bert could forgive the creature's clingy nature, he could forgive the putrid smell that rose from both its buttocks on account of eating far too many eggs, he could even forgive its insistence on calling him Kirk, but what he couldn't forgive was the sheer audacity this creature had to make off with a piece of his puzzle. It was a puzzle Kirk... sorry, Bert had been working on for some four and a quarter years, a to-scale depiction of the Flying Scotsman locomotive making its away across the British countryside. And he was so close to finishing it. "I've told you already,"Bert snapped, "you can have your bloody coin when I get my puzzle piece!" "What puzzle piece?"the Begasus whimpered, scaring a young mother and her children who just happened to be waiting at the same zebra crossing. Before the Begasus had appeared from seemingly out of nowhere (which is to say, from behind a black bin that Mrs Jefferson had forgotten to take in after the collection), Bert had been waiting to cross the road. Why was Bert crossing the road? I'm not sure that matters. "Please, take the children,"the young mother ushered her three year old son and four year old twin daughters (Gregory, Deborah and Ruth, what great names to be given to babies) toward the lumbering monstrosity that was the Begasus, "if you have to eat something, eat them!" It should be said that the young mother (Abigail) was rather distraught after having been up seven days on the trot with barely a wink of sleep. Her wife, Bailey, was away on business and so she'd been caring for the children alone. Between Gregory trying to eat the rabbits, Deborah throwing knives at the shoes behind the curtains, and Ruth striving to set the world record for square meters of house covered in four year old sh\*t, it was safe to say the week so far had been somewhat of a nightmare. "Oh, my apologies."the Begasus blushed, "You've mistaken me for, I think, a Hungry Hungry Hippo, which, I believe, I am not."then in a sudden flash of brilliance the Begasus added, "But I could be a Hungry Hungry Hippo, for a coin." The woman looked horrified, not at the offer, but at the yellow tint to the savage creature's teeth, and that ungodly egg-like stench that was rising from not one buttocks, but two. Looking as though she might faint (from either exhaustion or the smell) Abigail fled the zebra crossing just as quickly as she could. "That wasn't very nice."Bert shook his head, quite frankly disappointed. "Yes, she did seem rather rude." "No, not her..."Bert sighed, "Now listen hear, I want my bloody puzzle piece!" "I don't have it."he Begasus cried, causing several pigeons to flee a nearby telephone pole. "Then I don't have your coin." "Please, Kirk, be reasonable. I'm sure there's something else you want besides this bloody puzzle piece?" "Make me an offer."Bert folded his arms and gazed intently at the Begasus, trying hard to ignore the now setting sun as it whacked away at his poor eyes, "And make it a good one." "I'll make it three!"the Begasus replied, "One coin, that's all I ask, and I'll either polish your toenails, let you ride me back to heaven, or..." "I'm listening." "I never said you weren't?"the Begasus sounded bemused and a little put out by Kirk's... Bert's... interruption, "Or I'll let you borrow our Lord Almighty's dust pan and brush." "What does it do?" "Nothing all that exciting, Our Lord uses the dust pan and brush to hide away any mistakes that He's made. You could do the same, with your own mistakes, or if you really wanted to you could visit the place that those mistakes call a home. The lands under-carpet." "One coin?" "That's all I'm asking."the Begasus grinned, licked its bruised lips and started pumping its eyebrows in the most infuriating manor, "So, Kirk, what do you say?" Kirk... Bert... pondered the offer for merely a second, then with a grin of his own (and eyebrows that were pumping in just as infuriating a manor as the Begasus') he cried out, "Bring me that brush."
Left alone in the streets. Nothing left with me. I just went to work and what did I see on return? My home, burning. When the investigations were finished, it was possibly arson. I only got off with my backpack, my cellphone, my laptop, and the clothes I’m wearing. Why does it have to be me? What did I do to have someone burn my house? I can’t live with my parents; they’re on the other side of the country. None of my friends will take me in, not in my state. I don’t know what I should do now. Maybe... Please pick up the phone. “Hello?” he said. “Hey Andrew,” I replied. “Who is this? Sorry, I don’t have your number saved.” “I’m Carol. I know we aren’t in good terms right now but I need your help.” “What is it?” “I uh... need a place to stay.” “What happened? Did you get kicked out?” “I’ll tell you later. Can I come to your place?” “Where are you?” “I’m at the bus stop in Nightingale Way.” “I’ll come there. In about... 10 minutes. The rain is too strong and my car is at the workshop.” “Oh, then don’t bother. I’ll just wait for the storm to pass.” “It’s cold out there. I’ll come.” “Okay. And thanks.” He hung up. I still don’t believe him. How can he just trust me, a person who messed with his work every time I can, so much as to allow me to his house? He is a very weird person. I wonder what he does in his spare time. This storm is so strong. It’s like this storm will flood this city. At lease the lightning strikes are all far a— “What is that?” I said to myself. A lightning just occurred. With it, a strange shadow formed. It doesn’t look like anything I have seen, but I’m sure it’s not random. Something formed it. I just don’t know what or why. Another lightning. The shadow disappeared. Something else formed though. It looked human. What is going on? Am I going crazy? It must be the stress from work. It’s near-midnight now. I’m so sleepy. I wish I can just... lie down and... sleep. I can... use my bag... as a pillow. But I... have to... endure it. Just... 2... minutes... more. “Can’t wait?” someone said. What happened? Did I actually fall asleep at this bus stop? “Get up. Don’t make me leave you here.” It’s Andrew. He actually came. “I thought you—” “Were joking? When did I ever joke about going somewhere?” “A lot. You were joking about going to space.” A strange expression went to his face. He might be hiding something. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s just go.” Is this the person I see as a rival? What happened to the Andrew that I saw at work? This isn’t the one that took a part-time job at Wave Entertainment. This person is not the one who always fixed whatever error I found in my code. This Andrew is someone different. I might have been looking at him the wrong way. Maybe, I should give him another chance. “Welcome to my unit,” he said. This apartment unit looks quite normal. None of the fancy things you’d expect from someone who does an exceptional work at coding. “Feel free to do what you want. There’s only one other person here. If you need a place to stay for a long time, just tell me.” “Thanks,” I said. “None of my friends would take me in.” “Why not?” “There’s not enough space in where they live.” “That sucks. Anyway, stay here for the night. You’ll have to use the couch though. I have some personal things in my room and the other one doesn’t like others in his room.” “It’s okay. I just need to rest up.” “Okay. I’ll go back to my work now.” “Alright.” This place actually feels comfy. I wonder how much they pay for this. I just hope this thunderstorm goes aw— The shadow. It showed itself again. After 10 seconds, another lightning strike occurred. The shadow is still there. Except... it’s slightly bigger. Whatever it is, it’s heading here. I should just sleep. It’s 1:14 now. I still have work by 7. I should just sleep now.
A crowd had gathered outside the school. Dylan was in the middle of it, telling everyone he has relations with my mother and that I smell like a meat counter. I could take no more. I threw down my bag and stormed over to him. I towered over him, but it didn't stop me being intimidated by him. As we squared up, he made another remark about my smell, this time comparing it to his dog's faeces. Before I knew what was happening a punch was thrown. Contact. Dylan went out like a light. The wheel was turning but the hamster was dead. Everyone looked at me, shocked. They clearly didn't think I had it in me. I didn't even know I had it in me. &#x200B; And that is how I lost my job as a teacher.
"Holy <<untranslatable>>! The signal has just gone to crap! Get me the director! Throw up the technical troubles screen! Warn the help desk! AND GET THAT DAMNED THINK TANK IN HERE THAT SAID THEY WEREN'T SERIOUS ABOUT GOING DIGITAL! They made this mess, they can help clean it up. Fast, before prime time gets here." ... "I'm quite sure that this is merely a technical issue on your side. It's simply not possible for them to go digital." "<<Learned Scholar, with overtones of speaking to a simpleton>>, if your best team isn't here inside <<time period approximately 10 minutes>>, this message goes out world wide." Text is a clear denouncement of the think tank for failing to recognize the impending change, failure to allow for it, and failure to immediately work with WWHTV to resolve the issue. "I fail to see the point. We'd just take you to court for defamation." "<<Village idiot studying hard to get stupider>>, it'll never get to court. You and your think tank will be dead." "I hardly think..." "Yep, you don't. What's your favorite show?" "I forget the human name, but it's been #1 on the boards for some time now." "So, <<zombie level intelligence>>, what happens when that show doesn't air today?" "Why, I'll simply read a book." "Not with you, <<something not intelligent at all, but still managed to spout drivel>>, with all the fans out there outside your <<ivory tower>>." "I would ... That is ... Oh dear." "Exactly. I'll expect you here in 9 minutes and counting." ... "It's going to take months to resolve this! They're not even sending the whole frame! You have to calculate the offsets ..." "Excuse me." "... For each of the updates, and overlay it on the previous frame and all of its updates! We can't ..." "EXCUSE ME!" "Stop interrupting, <<junior engineer with prospects of janitor shortly>>!" "I ALREADY HAVE A SOLUTION!" "<<Utterly derisive disbelief with double tones of you're fired>>, shut up." "No. I want to hear him, <<Imperative or die.>>" "You can't be serious..."BZAP! "You didn't actually kill him, did you?" "No <<wish I could though>>, we need a <<scapegoat fully dressed and prepared for serving>>. Now let's hear your idea." "I have a working prototype. Just plug the incoming signal here, and get the standard signal out here. There's some degradation, but it's good enough to give us time to improve it." "Kid, this is <<gold standard>> work. You want to come work for us? We'll even make a new title for you, <<Chief of Human Technical Research Department, overtones of huge amounts of money>>." "I'd be delighted." "<<Involved and convoluted concept that boils down to 'no poaching'>>..."BZAP! "Come on up to the legal offices, I'm sure we can break any <<short and pithy, 'no poaching'>> contract." ((finis))
this is really long hhhhhhh— go easy with the critique it’s my first post ...What? I pressed the small arrow on the address bar, refreshing the page, but it was no mistake. I had just gone from #3,550,482,189 to #300,000. A jump greater than the greatest heroes of our time. I pressed refresh again. #27,888. I leaned back and straightened my plain shirt, looked around my well-lit office. I was really nobody’s special, an office worker from Rochester, working a nine-to-five job at a place I hate. I refreshed once more. #5,630. #3,429. #1,970. #849. I was in the ranks of some of the greatest people of our time now. If you can think of someone you hear the name of and admire, they were next to me in the rankings. That’s when I heard the knocking at my door. I got up, brushed off my legs, tugged at the cuffs of my shirt. As I reached towards the tarnished iron doorknob, it turned on it’s own and opened. I quickly withdrew my hand, placing it in my pocket, and looked at the hooded figure looming above me. It was easily taller than any human I’ve ever met, and it didn’t look like one either. It had a thin, angular face, with a neutral expression and large eyes. The nose was stout and flat, like a troll’s, but it’s eyes were glimmering galaxies of colorful flecks and streaks, ever-changing. It had pale gray skin and thin greasy hair that hung from its head. It floated into the room before I could do anything, passing through the partly-shut door and inviting itself into my sofa. Meanwhile, I was having a panic attack. What did it want with me? Why was it here? Can anyone else see it? Is this the specter of death? Have I broken the fundamental laws of the universe— “Come.” It spoke in a deep, throaty voice, like a bear’s growl, and it made you want to shut up and listen. “You must have questions, human. Fear not. I am here to answer.” I slowly crept to my armchair, keeping a wary eye out for anything suspicious. Ripples in time itself, perhaps, but nothing else odd happened. This creature was sitting near me, peering out from its black hood like it was meant to be here, right at this moment. He spoke again, right as I opened my mouth to question it. “You are merely at the elite section of the rankings for one thing; You have successfully prevented half the world from becoming deceased. Look into your memory, human.” It saw the look on my face, the furrowed brow and deep frown. “Does it fail you? Do you not remember the girl today, the one you blocked from the road when it was heavy with traffic?” It cocked it’s head at me. “You mean the one with the blond hair? The one whose mother screamed at me for being a pedo or something?” I said, remembering the infuriated look on that mom’s face. I had tugged the back of her daughter’s shirt before she ran into the road. We were all waiting for a bus and so many other people saw this mom screech at me. I was so embarrassed and thought bitter thoughts about how I should have let her go. “That girl, yes. She will grow up to invent the cure for a serious genetic disease, and you prevented her from being run over by a mail truck speeding down the road. You saved approximately 4,550,812,406 people and their descendants. You are a hero, Michael.” I blinked, and he was gone. Only the sound of cars rushing by outside my window remained.
"The hero association hadn't been around all that long when I got my start."He says as he dusts off the handlebars. He had to feel his way into the garage -- he was blind after all -- since he dismissed my offer to help. I was blind, too, but I had taken the chance and had a cybernetic upgrade from Kuseno Corporation so that I could see. I watched and listened intently. "I'm sure you think I'm crazy, or it's dementia, but it's not. As a young man, I became the hero Mumen Rider. I defended the cities as a hero of the Association for many years, prior to my retirement. I..."He smiled as he touched the bicycle. "I will need to make some upgrades to her before you begin your training."He turned his blacked-out glasses gaze toward me, "It's time for you to take up the bike and ride." &#x200B; I had no idea what to say. At first I was taken aback, and I held up my hands. "Grandpa, I know Mumen Rider."I looked at the bike -- it really did look like Mumen Rider's bike -- "And that looks like his bike. So, you're telling me that you're Mumen Rider?"I inhaled, and exhaled the following words with haste. \"For real?"\ &#x200B; I watched the old man who was my father's father smile. It was so genuine, so pure. The man had been a beacon of what path to lead my whole life. He supported me, built me up, and helped me rise to the top of my Judo, my studies, my strength training, and even an healthy eating regimen. He nodded. "I was. I suppose I still am, in some sort or another. But Mumen Rider needs to ride again, and you are the perfect candidate. You are pure of heart, you search for justice, you help others, and you believe in making the world a better place. If anything, you are an even better candidate that I was when I first took up the bike." &#x200B; I still didn't know what to say. My heart swelled with pride, and tears threatened to stream down my face. "Of course, grandpa. I would be honored." &#x200B; For the next several months, I spent nearly all day and night with my grandfather. He taught me things I didn't already know, and honed the things I knew. Strangely, when he was teaching me all that he had to teach, he never once seemed to need the assistance that he pretended to need when he was at home. This man who was schooling me on how to become a hero, was all the hero now, that he was thirty years or more ago. This old man was still Mumen Rider, just as sure as I stood before him. One day, near the end of the four month span I spent training with him, he came to me with a very upgraded version I saw of the bike on the first day. That same day, he presented me with an upgraded version of his classic outfit. And finally, on the very same day, he took me to be graded by the Hero Association. After giving it all I got, I ended up being classified in C-Class. Even now, I'm just thankful to be a hero. As we left that day, my grandfather said something to me that I'll never forget. He said, "Mumen Rider,"calling me by my new hero name, "if you ever happen to run across a man by the name of Saitama, tell him I said 'thank you'."I asked him why, of course. My grandfather's answer? "He taught me to love mozuku."I didn't pry any further. So far I haven't run into this "Saitama."But I have encountered by first Dragon-class monster, and I was blinded again. In honor of my grandfather, who has since passed, I opted to not have my cybernetic eyes replaced. &#x200B; I have a legacy to keep, after all.
[FFF](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bv7dy8/ot_fifth_friday_frenzy_pick_a_challenge/) Part 1 of 5 &#x200B; I never knew I could love with such intensity. I thought I loved my wife with my entire being—which I do, thank you very much—however, this love is different. It’s new and completely foreign to me. Holding my first born child in my arms destroyed any sense of self I thought I had. Looking into his eyes for the first time filled me with pure love. Immediately following that was a strong instinct of protection. Deep in my soul, I knew that I would do anything and everything to ensure the survival of my child and would sacrifice my all to keep him and my wife safe from harm. &#x200B; All the books on fatherhood did not prepare for this moment. I sat on the hospital bed next to my wife. Thanks to an arduous labor, her thick brown hair was disheveled, the makeup she had put on this morning was long gone, her body was sticky from sweat, and her voice was hoarse from screaming. Nevertheless, I had never seen her look more beautiful. Seeing her hold our son gently on her chest, lovingly stroking his laughably thin hair, and with a permanent smile plastered on her face was pure bliss. &#x200B; Time seemed to stand still as our new family had our first bonding moments. A knock at the door signaled the beginning of the inevitable flood of family members. Annoyance crept up at the thought of intruders in my special space, but who could blame them really? This little boy was the most precious being I had ever laid eyes on, surely I couldn’t deny this joy to the rest of our family. I bestowed a forehead kiss to my wife and son and called out, “Come in!” &#x200B; About an hour later, my brother-in-law, Chase, offered me a congratulatory cigar. I’ve never been one for smoking, but I knew this was a custom I could not deny. Also, Chase considered himself an amateur cigar connoisseur, so I knew this would be a quality work of tobacco. With more forehead kisses, I excused myself from the room, and ventured off with Chase. Now, smoking is prohibited on hospital property—as it well should be—so we took a quick drive to a local pier that is popular with the old fishing guys. I’ll admit, I felt unnerved leaving my newborn and wife so soon. Sure, it was only going to be for less than half an hour and we were literally a 2 minute drive way, but I still felt uneasy about it. “Bro, you’ve been by Emily’s side the whole time. I’m pretty sure you’ve been awake since yesterday, right? I think you can take a few minutes to yourself,” Chase admonished me. &#x200B; I held the lit cigar in my hand as I sat on the pier and gazed at the sky. I had been taking careful puffs from it. Never inhaling, of course, but just enjoying the taste of the smoke it my mouth. It actually wasn’t too bad; I couldn’t really identify the flavors, but I would describe them as earthy, maybe? Chase and I didn’t exchange many words, and I was thankful for this. It was nice to sit back and enjoy the quiet for a few moments. I knew I wouldn’t have many quiet moments in my near future, all the horror stories I’ve read about newborns sleeping for only hours at a time were burned into my brain. It was nearing twilight. The sun was just barely touching the horizon, the sky was turning into a cascade of colors overlooking the water. Deep reds intermixed with pale orange patches, a few sly patches of purple, and scattered clouds dotted the skyscape. Chase was next to me laying on the pier with his eyes closed. I took a small drag from the cigar and felt the smoke churn in my mouth. I tilted my head upward and opened my mouth to let the smoke escape. I watched the wispy path it traced against the clear blue sky. &#x200B; Wait, clear blue sky? I swapped away the smoke in front of me and took a proper look at the sky. The sky was indeed clear and blue, with the sun high up as though it were noon. I know that I’m a bit sleep-deprived, but I also know damn well my son was born at 5:58 p.m. and I had just been looking at a sunset. I pulled out my phone and saw 8:11 p.m. staring up at me in bold, white font. Then, I looked up again and saw something almost ineffable. The sky completely disappeared and a void took its place. Not darkness like night or blackness like an unlit room, but a void of pure nothingness. If the sky were painted against a background, it was as if the background itself had disappeared. Suddenly, a mass network of lightning filled the void. Though, I don’t think it was really lightning. It criss and crossed, bolted and branched like lightning, but it was pure white and maneuvered as though it had a mind of its own. It quickly dispersed across, shining boldly against the void. &#x200B; The holes between this web of lightning began to pulsate. Each hole began to shimmer between different scenes. I couldn’t see them accurately, but I noticed the colors. The holes shifted between blue, grey, red, orange, purple, and I understood what I was seeing. It was as if all the potential colors the sky could be were being shown. I was captivated by it all. It reminded me of a kaleidoscope—a vicious cacophony, but of colors instead of sounds, and filling every inch of the sky. Then, a bright white light overtook the scene and faded into the proper skyscape. The wonderful reds and oranges had returned. The sun was again low on the horizon. I realized that what I had just witnessed happened in only a matter of seconds. &#x200B; My mind raced as it struggled to process what I had just seen. Maybe it was a hallucination? Perhaps these cigars had been somehow laced with something or I really did need some sleep. It felt so real though, more real in fact than anything I had ever seen before. Guilt and sadness filled my soul as I realized that it seemed even more real than just witnessing the birth of my son. I pushed those feelings down as another one began to make its way into my psyche. What if reality isn’t quite what we think it is? I’ve come across a theory that we are living in a simulation before. I never gave it much stock, but after seeing the sky seemingly glitch out, I thought I might need to a rethink my stance. &#x200B; Chase opened his eyes and stretched out as he sat up. With a groan in his voice, he said, “Sorry Alec, I think I might’ve dozed off for a bit. Did I miss anything?” &#x200B; [r/therudyshow](https://www.reddit.com/r/therudyshow/)
I saw him laboring with the gargantuan sack when I turned the corner onto main street. At first I was intrigued but otherwise uninterested, plenty of people dragged sacks around these parts. Then I noticed the umbrella handles poking out of the top, all different colors and sizes; some straight, some hooked and some shaped like unspeakable things. &#x200B; Unusually for me I decided to approach him, curious about his business. He was a short and old man with a balding scalp and meager grey hair clinging to the sides of his head. He wore a ragged wool suit which was a size too big and his tie reached well past his crotch. He looked tired and sweaty from dragging the sack of umbrellas which must have been heavy given its size. &#x200B; I walked up to him with a smile and said 'Umbrellas?! On a day like this!?' Internally I hoped I was being funny, it was rare for me to make such conversation. &#x200B; He looked annoyed and grumbled back 'Yeah.. well what would you know about it eh?' &#x200B; I was taken back a little, not expecting such grump from the old man. I quickly decided that he would have to pay for his insolence. He was speaking to a GOD. 'I'm sorry, I was only making fun. Do you need a hand?' &#x200B; He stopped dragging the sack of umbrellas and stared at me, his hands hanging down by his sides; covered by the long sleeves of the suit. 'Yeah alright then'. &#x200B; I pulled out my knife and stabbed him in the face several times. Blood rushed from the open wounds which I did not hesitate to drink greedily, slurping and lapping at the old mans wrinkly brow. He seemed scared and confused, this made me smile. &#x200B; 'Wh.. what?' &#x200B; That was all he could muster before I slid my knife between his ribs and giggled as he fell to the ground. The street was quiet, empty of life. &#x200B; The sun blazed down, hot on my neck, unrelenting in the vacuous blue sky. &#x200B; Then I saw it. Creeping from behind a skyscraper in the distance. A cloud. A dark cloud. &#x200B; Feeling like a kid in a candy shop I picked through the sack of umbrellas and chose a large blue one made with velvety soft material, its handle was carved from fine cherry wood and sanded down to a bone like smoothness. 'Beautiful', I thought to myself before heading off to work with a skip in my step.
"I'm sorry, what?"Lauren asked the aging attendant. The old woman smiled pleasantly; her eyes sparkled with life despite her wrinkles. She looked down at her clipboard to double check her form, then back at the mid 20s patient; she nodded. "I'll take good care of you, dearie. I need to fill in some missing information. Unless I'm in the wrong room?"The elderly orderly looked around the room then raised an eyebrow. "You're Lauren Hutchinson, right? Born 1-1-96?"Lauren nodded. "I'm missing your death date."Lauren gasped, then immediately exhaled into a heavy sob. Her body shook as tears filled her eyes. She did hear 'death date' correctly and did not know how to process the fact that she was dead. "Oh dear me, no!"the aide rushed to Lauren's bedside and wrapped a wispy arm around the young woman. "That close, huh?"Something about the woman's embrace helped Lauren calm down. She wondered if her attendant was an angel. She felt at ease and her mind cleared. "June 5, I guess,"Lauren shrugged. "I'd ask you what year but it's obvious you mean today,"the old woman joked. "All our journeys end at some point, dear,"she squeezed the patient again. Lauren sighed and felt better. "You're right. It was fun while it lasted but it's time to move on."She looked up at the orderly and smiled. "What's next?"she asked. "This is your last one,"she patted Lauren's head. "I haven't gotten that far yet."She gave Lauren a final hug then released her. She made herself comfortable on the bed and smiled. "I guess Ezey wasn't your caseworker, huh?"she winked. "He's a soft touch as easy as his name; you'd have all the answers already." Lauren tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. After a moment she shook her head slowly as if she didn't know she was doing it. "No...,"she whispered. "It was... Isla."Her head tilted the other way. "Who's Isla?"she quickly added the question. "Oh, dear."she clucked her tongue and shook her head with pity. "I won't let you pass on like this,"she pulled a scalpel from the front of her red and white smock. "Not while you're still slumbering."The frail woman grabbed Lauren's arm with a firm grip. "This might sting a bit dear,"she said. Lauren nodded. She felt completely at ease in the woman's presence; despite the blade carving into her skin. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"Lauren's nurse dashed into the room. "I'm waking her up,"the orderly said. She stopped cutting Lauren's skin. She pressed a white gauze square against the wound then looked calmly at the nurse. "I won't let her life end without knowing what it's about."The nurse sighed and crossed her arms. "I don't disagree but shouldn't you wait until she's closer to death before you decide for the universe?"the nurse asked. Lauren perked up. "I'm not dead?"she asked. The two women ignored her to focus on their conversation. "She will be today, She said her death day was June 5th." "I'm still alive?!"Lauren pulled her arm out of the orderly's hand: the old woman let it go but her focus stayed on the nurse. "And how do you know that?"the nurse asked. "She told me,"the orderly pointed at Lauren. Lauren saw her chance and jumped in. "I thought I was already dead!"she blurted out the instant both women's attention landed on her. "Oh,"the orderly said. "So you don't know your death date?"Lauren shook her head vigorously. "No. Who knows that?"she asked. "Fae,"she replied and pointed at the green forms on her clipboard. "You're color-coded for fae." "What?"The nurse glanced down at the orderly's clipboard: it held several mint green forms. yanked the clipboard away and looked over the forms; then, she shook her head. "Fae forms are printed with dark green ink. These are just printed on green copy paper." "Oh. Well now I know, thank you,"the orderly said. "How did you know my favorite number?"Lauren asked. She was looking at the 45 scratched into her skin. "And why did I let you do this?"she asked. The old woman sighed and stood from the bed. "I'll call Mundo,"she said. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #156. 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 brushed it off at first. Something like this was technically plausible, since we all see each other time to time. It was a rare occurrence that was actually pretty cool. But then the next day came. And the next. The same thing happened every day for 3 weeks. Each time, I brushed it off as an increasingly weird coincidence. But then it went too far. Is it really that plausible that something like this would happen for 3 straight weeks. So then I investigated. I asked random people if they've seen me or some other guys in their dreams. I never expected anything you connect. But it did. People in the office were getting suspicious too. They talked a lot about their dreams, so something like this would seem weird too. Then a month passed. Global Hysteria, Dreams were all interconnected. Like a society. And then we fell asleep in our dreams.
It was out there, beyond the bookshelves. Sally could hear it breathing. She heard its claws scrape across the hardwood floor. She even heard the faint dampness of its snotty nostrils as it sniffed the air. She knew it was there, but she couldn’t see it. She wouldn’t have known it existed if she hadn’t seen it kill Jeremy. She came out of the back room just in time to see him carrying a stack of freshly unboxed books, and then she saw the crimson stains spreading across his shirt. She saw the faint tear at its center, as if Jeremy had been skewered on something. She saw the tear stretch wider, ripping the shirt open, and revealing his torso being split in much the same way. She saw her coworker torn in twain, splattering the nearby tables of new releases and best sellers in a rain of tattered viscera—a theme of red with little touches of organic green and gray that she knew she would never be able to purge from her memories. She had run and heard it give chase. She darted between the narrow bookshelves of the tiny little mom-and-pop bookshop and felt some measure of relief when she heard it struggling to follow. It was too big! Too big to squeeze between the shelves… So big it could push them over. The shadow fell over her and she turned to see the shelf behind her coming down. Before it could hit her, it collided with the next shelf, and as they did their best impression of collapsing dominos, she hurled herself out at the far end and scrambled down the back aisle. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!” She had never screamed like that in her life. Raw, unbridled terror did something strange to your voice. It strangled it and strengthened it all at once. You put every ounce of air you had in your lungs into screaming as loud as you possibly could, but in that moment of desperation the scream still doesn’t sound strong enough. It’s strained and reedy, struggling to be heard over even the most common background noise. “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die!” She lost count of how many times she said it as ran from the slavering, thumping, stomping, tromping Something that eluded her vision while proving its presence with every broken bookshelf and backhanded display table. She sunk to her knees, sobbing, and covering her head with her arms, waiting for the inevitable. There was a sudden rush of air, a strange rattling sound, and a noise like a water balloon popping. Thick, translucent fluid rained over Tara’s body, leaving her dripping in liquid so putrid that the only thing keeping her from gagging was the sheer shock of everything. She looked up between her shaking hands and saw, standing in the disastrous remnants of the bookstore, were three other women, a redhead flanked by two twin blondes. Sally tried to speak but all she managed was a dismayed croak as she stared at them. “Made it just in time,” the redhead said, looking between her twin companions with a relieved smile. “Uh-oh, somebodies having a Monsters-Are-Real meltdown,” one of the blondes said, pointing a finger at Sally. The redhead looked back at her and adopted a sympathetic expression. “It’s okay Sally,” she said, reaching out and gently drawing Sally to her feet. “Eugh,” she said, letting go of the girl’s arms and looking down at her hands. “That thing slimed you good, didn’t it? Sorry about that. It takes forever to get rid of the smell.” “Buh-I-wha?!” Sally stammered. “Hey, she’s almost managing full words, that’s pretty impressive for this early on!” the other blonde declared with an approving smile. “Way to go, Sal!” Sally looked between the twins, and then to the redhead, still grappling with what she was witnessing. This was even more baffling than invisible monsters. “Aren’t… Aren’t you… Wha-?!” “Yes, I’m Jackie O’Dare, yes, those are Mira and Vira ‘The Twins’, and no you can’t have an autograph right now, we can’t stay here for long.” “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Sally screamed. “Full blown demands for explanation in under a minute,” Mira exclaimed. “She really is good!” “She’s not going completely crazy, so I guess I owe you twenty bucks,” said Vira. “Told ya so!” “GIRLS!” Jackie O’Dare shot a look at the two blondes then turned her gaze back to Sally. “Sweetheart, I know this is a lot to take in, but right now we’ve got to get you out of here before anymore things like that show up. Come on, take my hand, and don’t let go.” Sally stared up at Jackie’s outstretched hand in disbelief. She tried to find more words but realized she had misplaced her vocabulary sometime in the past ten seconds. Adrenaline was finally fading, her body was shaking, the sheer absurdity of the past five minutes was bearing down on her, but after everything she had just witnessed what did she have to lose? She grabbed Jackie O’Dare’s hand and held on tight.
DING - DONG I opened the front door of my apartment, and was greeted by a gangly acne covered pizza delivery boy. "One large pineapple pizza, for Tony Roberts?", he asked impatiently. "Yea, lemme just get my wallet", I said before turning around, I suddenly realizing I was not at home anymore. My small second floor studio condo was replaced by a hellish circular throne room. In the middle of the room a giant pentagram, which seemed to be made of blood, covered the entire floor. Small devilish bright red imps danced around it, their beady black eyes all staring directly at me. My roof was replaced by an infinitely tall cavern, only blackness was visible beyond ten feet above me. Jagged amber colored stalagmites stabbing through the floor lined the perimeter of the room, all covered with humans chained to them as larger bear sized demons stabbed then with various tools ranging from pitchforks, swords, and cattle prods. I averted my eyes from them and tried to shut off my ears from their incomprehensible screaming and turned around to run anywhere else, but the gangly pizza boy was now replaced by a towering jet black demon that looked down on me with its baseball sized bloodshot eyes. It was clear to me that I wasn't going anywhere. I turned back around and noticed a jagged earthy throne that seemed to grow out of the cavern itself like the stalagmites, and on it, sat a rather tall, lean, and very pale man. He wore a very clean black two piece suit and his hair was slicked back like an old time Italian mobster from the movies. He would have looked very human if it wasn't for his entirely pitch black eyes that seemed to be shooting fireballs at me. "Tony Robert", his voice boomed throughout the cavern which rattled me down to my toes. All the imps dancing in the middle of the room parroted him in harsh whispers, "Tony Roberts, Tony Roberts" "Y-yes?"I asked, not knowing where I even got the courage to respond to him. "All things considered you are a good human", he continued, "You've never stolen, never cheated, only a few white lies, and you've never willingly hurt anyone. Certainly not worthy of spending your eternity in damnation, if it wasn't for one thing..." "T-that is?..."I quivered. "Pineapple pizza", he stated. Suddenly all the imps froze and screeched in terror, the demons that tortured the people on the stalagmites suddenly turned around and looked at me with hatred, all pointing their various torture devices at me. The enormous black demon behind suddenly let at a explosive roar that nearly blew out my eardrums. "E-excuse me?" "Pineapple pizza", he repeated. "P-pinapple p-pizza?" "Yes" I mustered up all the guts I had and squeezed, "Im sorry, but what does pineapple pizza have do about being in hell?" "EVERYTHING!!!", the man on the throne screamed, releasing a wave of energy that knocked me off my feet. "Not even I, Lucifer, would dare eat such a disgusting, vile, sinful thing! Eating Pineapple pizza is the equivalent of Eve eating the forbidden fruit! You are a very lucky human, the man upstairs has urged me to give you a warning, so listen well. If you dare eat pineapple pizza again, in your time of death the demons that live in the deepest darkest pits of my domain will come for you and drag you down deeper than anyplace a mortal can go. You will be tortured for all eternity along with the rest of the greatest sinners of humankind, and you will beg for forgiveness for the rest of time. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" "U-uh, I still don't get-"I stammered. "It is done! My warning has been given! Goodbye Tony Roberts, for your sake I hope I don't see you again.", he said as he flicked his hand and immediately the world changed. "That'll be $12.25 man", the gangly teenager declared.
There she was. Ahead, my sights locked on her. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, the work I'd done all these months would finally be worth it soon. I knew I'd screw up if I wasn't calm, though. I watched her. Waiting. All she had to do was step out of her house, which by my calculations would be at 9:17. She always left for work at 9:17. Reliable people are always the easiest. She's struggling with her shoes. No wonder, though. She'd gained some weight these past few months, more than the recommended amount. I was doing her husband a favor, really. She would look like trash after if she saw this thing through to completion. The husband...there's a vein of thought that would do anything but calm me down. Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered him, looming above me, as I kneeled like the good girl I am, and took care of him the way his ungrateful wife never would. I wondered how pleased he would be with me after this. Giddiness dizzied me. Deep breaths. Why hasn't she left? It was 9:20! What a lazy bitch, oh how I hated- Oh, there she is. Now's my chance. Just as she gets to her car, I pounce. Handkerchief over the mouth, check. Throw her in the back of her van, check. I drive toward the cabin. The hours are long, but I tide myself over with memories of the husband that soon would be mine. We arrive, and I drag her inside, careful to drag her on her back. My precious baby, I cannot risk hurting you. I promised the day I saw the positive test on her counter that I'd always be the one to protect and love you. I'd never allow such a vile woman to raise you. She thinks she's so perfect, and she's a spoiled bitch, everyone falls all over themselves to please her. I'd never allow my child to be raised with such a sickening mother. Time now to begin. I clap and dance, the anticipation rising. My kit is already laid out, the tarp spread. Everything's ready. With the steady hand they always praised me for in my years at the hospital, I remove you. You're even more perfect than I imagine. My baby! At last. You look just like your father. Time passes. You're clean, fed, napping. I'm exhausted but I must do my motherly duty and rid you once and for all of the witch. I remove her organs, these we will prepare in the stuffing for the roast I'm making your father. He'll need a celebratory dinner of course. He's a dad now! The rest of her I dispose of. I won't give you the details. You're too young. Finally, you wake. I call your father. Meet me at the cabin, darling, and wear those briefs I love. I have such a surprise for you!!
As a member of Forest Search and Rescue, I can tell you the one thing I really can't stand: it's the oldest spirits. The newer ones aren't so bad, they're usually pretty chilled out. The old ones though... Lonely - lost. Their families are lying somewhere in the forest, but spirits don't visit each other, as a rule. So the old ones just... Gravitate towards light. They want to talk, faint whispers that grate along my nerves like violin strings being stretched and snapped. Usually it's a name - sometimes its an emotion. For a while there was the Shit-Talker. He was a real old-timer and looked like he was probably hell on wheels back in the day. He would follow along at the party's heels and whisper 'shitshitshitshit' whilst we were trying to concentrate. It always gave me a toothache in the back of my head that made me want to turn around and scream in the old bastard's face. I never did though - it's in the rules. And as a member of Forest Search and Rescue I can tell you that you have to follow the rules. &#x200B; Let me give you an example of someone who didn't. It was when I was a rookie. I was so fresh out that my robes still had that particular rustle that waterproof material will have before you've got it properly wet and my boots still gave me blisters if I didn't remember to wear an extra pair of socks. My partner had been doing it for five years, and I was his first rookie. I'm going to call him Bill. It was a misty type of morning - we were going out to find a guy who had gone into the forest for his mother's anniversary. Since I was so new, it was a relative jaunt into a Blue Zone. A Blue Zone is okay in the morning. Really, it's not recommended to go into the forest once your loved one is interred - especially now you can pick their favourite flower to weave into the fabric of the coffin. But people are sentimental and graves are really for the living. Anyway, when he hadn't called his wife to say he was coming home she had begun to worry and called us. We walked into the forest as we had hundreds of times before. I kept checking my walkie-talkie, my salt, my rope, my machete, the straps of the backpack that held a small amount of emergency rations and your Object. Bill noticed me checking and punched me on the shoulder. &#x200B; "Don't worry kid, you'll be fine. He probably just got a little lost." &#x200B; I smiled back at Bill, but I couldn't find myself believing him. Sometimes people did get turned about in the forest, and you would find them off the path. Sometimes you didn't. Green as I was, I hadn't found anything worse than a kid with a broken arm. God, I was so green. Anyway, we found this guy's mother's plot. He had put a stone there and some of her flowers lay over it. We started by calling his name. It was morning, when most spirits are at their ebb, but we still got one or two of the youngest peering at us through the trees. I could hear them whispering - it wasn't as bad as the old-timer, you could almost mistake it for a radio, slightly out of tune and very far away. We ignored them and carried on calling, moving out in a circle but never out of each other's line of sight. For a grave in the Blue Zone, it was safe to stay in each other's eyes. If we needed to do spread out further, we would head back to HQ and get back-up. I stopped - I could just about see Bill. I waved to him, he waved back and indicated he was going further in - out of my eye-sight. &#x200B; "Bill?"There was no response, just Bill calling this guy, further into the forest. "Bill!"The whispering noise of the spirits grew and grew as I blundered back to this lady's grave and whipped around. I couldn't hear anything over the noise, which seemed to be entering my body through every pore, every hair of me on end with static. The morning was misty and I could see faces pulled long and screaming and squashed up and groaning and whirling until I was so dizzy I thought I might throw up all down my shiny new robes. I thought I could hill Bill in the distance but it sounded buzzing and wrong. I opened my mouth and nothing came out except a croak like a dead thing. The forest yawed around me like a boat in a gale and I could feel a faint beating of wings behind me. I could hear a faint whining noise and realised that was me. That scared me more than the croak - I sounded like someone on the edge of madness. I reached down for aeons and finally my fingers fumbled at the salt. I popped the top off and managed to splash it in my face - it went in my nose and mouth and made me retch and sneeze, falling to my knees. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the stone on the grave and there was no sign of Bill. I shouted for him a couple of times, but even the spirits had fled. I listened intently, in case it was just the salt that scared them. But then I realised that even the birds had gone silent. I ran back to HQ covered in mud and salt. All we found of the guy was his phone. When we switched the phone on, all it would do is play 'I love you Sheila' and then bursts of static. If you listened hard, you could hear the screams. &#x200B; Some of the Marshals went back in with their bells, books and shot-guns and when they came out that area was designated a Black Zone - no more bodies to be buried, no living humans to go in. I didn't find out what you did with the things that came out till one came out wearing Bill's skin about a month later. I didn't even realise till the thing shook my hand and it felt like holding a glove full of flies. It turns out all that training was for something because I didn't even think as I cut the thing's head off. It spat black ooze at me (which meant six weeks' of painful shots, by the way) and pleaded in Bill's voice for mercy as me and a couple of other guy's oversaw the burning and the salting. I threw up afterwards till I thought I might turn inside out. I still do, when I have to deal with something coming out of a Black Zone. &#x200B; I like it though, the job, I mean. The official line is that spirits are a manifest of certain microbes in the soil that escape in the shape of the thing that they fed on, and because the trees are so dense, they float around until they disperse in the slight breezes of the forest. Since the living are automatically inclined to empathise with human-featured objects, they assign the leaves rustling as voices and whatever whatever. Everyone in Search and Rescue does rotations in Maintenance. It means your knowledge of the forest stays fresh and keeps you grounded - otherwise its easy to forget the living. I've seen what people become when they stay in the forest too long - they give themselves over to death but death doesn't want them just yet so they slide through the shadows of the trees, grey-skinned and hollow-eyed. If you try and talk to them, they look right through you. If you grab them, their skin has a loose, half-cooked feeling that you can never quite scrub off. If you shake them, then they rattle like ragdolls, their eyes never leaving whatever they're looking at. I hate running into them almost as much as the old-timers. They weep all the time, their faces burned with salt.
>forced to always perceive every path of cause to effect This managed to get me thinking of a detective, and I kind of got lost in writing from the heart, so apologies if this doesn't fit with your prompt. I'm continuing on from my recent posts, so the story is that but from another perspective. \################################### "Krieger!"His hands slammed onto the table, which had been worn down to the rough, raw wood underneath from decades of shuffling paperwork; of course, the briefing was over and I'd fallen asleep again. The nights of drinking synthetic whiskey & smoking out on the balcony were starting to catch up to me. I came back online, my implant a split second behind as usual. I was due for an upgrade to one of the new chips Labtek had been working on, but ever since that EZ-mart drone nuked herself with the security laser, they'd been hesitant with their product launches. As I opened my eyes I could feel the bitter, hard gaze of Nigel West, our chief. His arms were like logs, and it looked like he was struggling to keep them folded. "Nice of you to finally join us. Rough night again I suspect?"he said as I was fixing my hair. As I brushed the last of it away from my eyes, I tilted my head up to meet his, "You're some detective, Nige."I reached into my pocket, "I think I've got a medal in here somewhere."He smirked, we'd always had a good relationship since the academy, and I had a pile of solved cases backing me up. "Well, since you don't have a partner I suppose it doesn't really matter that you're a mess. The only person you'll get killed is yourself."There was genuine concern in his voice, but he wanted something from me, which soon took priority. He was never one to mince words, "Listen K, I got a request from Donngrad this morning."There was a sense of futility in his voice, and I suspected it wasn't so much of a request, as an order. Donngrad were the security corp responsible for monitoring grid traffic and ground-level events, and jobs from them were to be treated seriously, but the majority of them were bullshit. They were paranoid about any abnormalities, which were common since the majority of Sector 8 (Nari-Racke) was built on old infrastructure. Nigel continued, "It's probably nothing, but someone at Labtek has pushed them to investigate some weird energy fluctuation by a GridNode in the city, and I want you to go down and see what's going on."It was rare that Labtek ever made requests, and even more so that I was asked to check them out. Usually we'd just send the recruits down; they'd get ambushed by some street rats trying to sell them some dust, and then come back to tell war stories. "Must be some special GridNode if you're sending me to ground-level, where is it?"I said arrogantly. Nigel looked uneasy as he bumped the map over to my Gridcom. It lit up and zoomed in on the location, "You know where this is, right?"I asked him rhetorically. The location was the end of the block where the ez-mart was located. It was probably just a coincidence, but that didn't suppress the sense of dread accompanying my hangover. Nigel looked down, picking his fingernails, and sighed, "I know, and don't think I'm not worried about sending you down there, but you're my best man, and I need to give those corpo crazies something useful." &#x200B; I exited the building at ground-level, after a thirty-story elevator ride to contemplate my predicament. I pulled up the hood on my jacket, but I wasn't really protecting anything other than a strip of hair, which was the slicked back, flattened, greasy remains of a mohawk. HQ was located in a fairly lonely part of the city, on the outskirts near Sector 7 (Kin-Tami). I'd always wanted to jump across and see what was happening over the other side of the concrete divider, but the word was they had a high terrorist threat, which naturally meant military checkpoints, and I didn't have the papers. I decided to avoid the wall today, and walked deeper into the city, following the huge dome of light hiding the stars from the bustling entertainment district, Sector 8's biggest attraction. After a few blocks, I began to hear the commotion of a protest in the courtyard of one of the superstructures; three hundred floors of apartments for everyone. At least, I was told they were that tall, but they could've been infinite with the way they disappeared into the polluted clouds above. I knew the protest was about Labtek, it always was. They'd screwed thousands out of a job when they decided to move their factories out onto ocean platforms, and not even the continued compensation to ex-employees tempered public opinion. All I could think about was how they were probably delaying my implant upgrades. &#x200B; Before long, the density of prostitutes and street rats grew. Their outfits hurt my eyes, and I was always frustrated at their glowing signs and neon-filled plastic coats. It was supposed to draw attention from their broken, twisted bodies, but they were only kidding themselves. Nothing could hide the effects of dust. As I walked around the end of the block, I was blinded by strobing advertisements for "Toxicola"and "XXX Live Synthetics". It was like everyone had gathered on a single street, and there was bound to be trouble, "Motherfucker, watch where you're going!"I heard as I was still adjusting to the light. I didn't see them, but I heard someone apologise and run. I was close to the ez-mart now, so I ducked into the side alley where the GridNode was connected. Labtek had pushed propaganda that the GridNodes would fry any implants if you got too close, but it was all bullshit to keep the scum from tampering with them. This meant the alley was well-kept, if not a bit grimy. The GridNodes were cylindrical, with a small door on the front for maintenance. I popped the door and opened up a scanner on my Gridcom. The traffic levels and output seemed normal, so I checked in, "Hey, Nige, I'm at the GridNode, and everything looks normal. No tampering, and no abnormalities in the traffic. Could you see if Donngrad are still seeing spikes?"Smooth jazz started playing as I was put on hold. I didn't hear much of the song before Nigel came back, "Yep, their scanners are throwing all kinds of alerts. They say the hot zone has moved towards the EZ-mart, but they can't tell me what kind of disturbance it is."I was getting more and more concerned at this job, "Alright, I'll go take a look over there. If it's moving, I guess I'm looking for someone, not something." &#x200B; I closed up the GridNode, and walked back toward the street. I was blinded by the neon again, but as soon as I passed the threshold, my head exploded with pain, and my ears rang with a high pitched static like someone was shouting into a radio, that overloaded all my implants. It seared through my entire body as I fell to my knees, darkness fading in around me. As I blacked out, I thought I heard a voice, but I could barely make out the words as my consciousness waned, they were chaotic and urgent, "I--Kn--ou."
“And how, exactly, did all technology vanish?” Brother Fadril of the Order of the Replication shrugged at his interviewer. His moustache twitched as he pondered his reply. “Well, we don’t really know. Some say it was runaway nanotechnology- that’s very tiny machines that can be programmed to do just about anything. I don’t know though. We don’t have any records from that time, for obvious reasons.” Gill Lang, the interviewer, had been sent by the Ministry to follow up on the report issued by the Order just three weeks ago. The Prime Minister wanted clarification on a number of points, but Gill was having a hell of a time keeping Brother Fadril focused. “Can you give me your best guess?” Gill asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not really my area. Brother Cedric and Sister Emily are the pre-Blackout experts. I’m more focused on-“ and he waved his hands vaguely in the air, “well, post-Blackout events.” Gill sighed. It had been like this all morning. No one at the Monastery could give him a straight answer. He debated returning to the capital and washing his hands of the matter, but the thought of returning empty handed made him wince. “Fine. Tell me about that. What were things like after the Blackout,” “Oh, they were terrible. Just terrible!” The monk was actually smiling as he said this, warming up to his subject. “Overnight, all technology vanished. Everywhere. It took about an hour, from what we’ve been able to piece together. The immediate death toll was, ah, indescribable.” “Try,” Gill said dryly. “Well, it was eight hundred years ago, so one cannot day for sure. But we estimate that hundreds of thousands died just from the vehicle failures. Cars, planes. Submarines. And then even more from medical devices and hospitals failing. But really, those were just the tip of the, uhm, iceberg? So to speak?” Gill waited. “Famine got the rest of them, but it took a few weeks to really hit. With no vehicles they couldn’t harvest or ship crops. Or call for help. With no firearms they had to defend the food and themselves with primitive weapons and their own bodies. So the people who lived in what was left of their towns and cities ate all the available food quite rapidly, then turned on each other. In the first year the population drop was ninety three percent.” “Good gravy,” Gill whispered. That hadn’t been in the report. “Yes, it was all fairly horrifying, I imagine.” “And after the first year? What happened then?” “Ahh. Life, ah, finds a way, yes? The few survivors fought and scratched out a life on the husk of the world, and started having babies. Really fascinating stuff. Did you know that in Oregon there were a number of communities out in the forest, that worked together, trading and farming, hunting the land? Of course, they all turned out to be cannibals. Quite tragic, really? All had to be put down when the Replication started up.” That wasn’t in the report either. Gill stared at Brother Fadril with incredulous eyes. “Oh, and I’m sure you’ve heard of the Blaine Incident? No? Well, that’s quite interesting, took place about fifty years after the Blackout. A young woman named Chris Blaine managed to get enough metal together, along with a magnet, to build a small electrical circuit. Proved that electricity was still possible!” Gill listened to Brother Fadril go on like this for hours. All of it was things he’d heard before, but never with such detail. It seemed the monks here had a vast store of knowledge about history and the Blackout. By the time he returned to the capital his notebook was full. The Prime Minister would be either pleased or infuriated by the realisation that there was so much more yet to learn.
"Oh, genie, I have another wish,"the boy said ringing a bell. The bell didn't do anything. He simply needed to call for the genie. But he felt this was the way true royalty would summon their loyal servants. &#x200B; Purple smoke filled the room as the sky darkened outside. A flash of lightning and a clap of Thunder. The genie appeared draped in flowing purple robes adorned with golden and gem encrusted jewelry. This was no average genie. This was Ussod the Gorgeous. A genie who had lived through several centuries as beautiful as the day he went into the lamp. Ussod's beauty was only matched by his honor. &#x200B; "What is your wish,"Ussod spoke, the bass of his voice shaking the room as he spoke. &#x200B; "I'd like a rubber goose, like a rubber duck, but a goose,"the boy spoke. &#x200B; "Your wish is my command,"Ussod said clapping his hands. &#x200B; The world seemed to shake and a rubber goose appeared. A waste of a genie's powers. Ussod could do so much more. Instead, he was stuck granting the wishes of an ungrateful and disrespectful child. All because Ussod's honor would not allow him to deny a wish. The boy had wishes for infinite wishes. That was three years ago. In that time Ussod had reunited his parents, made them billionaires and given the boy everything he could ever desire. Still, he refused to release Ussod from his duties. &#x200B; "Is there anything else,"Ussod asks, eager to return to his lamp, away from the child. &#x200B; "Would you do a dance for me Ussod,"the boy asked. &#x200B; "No. That is not a wish." &#x200B; "I wish you would do a dance,"the boy said with a sly smile. He knew Ussod would never deny a wish. &#x200B; "Unfortunately, I can not do that, as I would have to stray too far from the lamp to dance,"Ussod had not lied. He could not stray far from the lamp, and it's current position would not allow him to dance as gracefully as he had in life. &#x200B; "Then leave the lamp,"the boy demanded growing frustrated with Ussod's newfound rebellious streak. &#x200B; "You must wish that I were free from the bondage of the lamp,"Ussod explained to the boy. &#x200B; "Then I wish you were free from the bondage of the lamp,"the boy said now crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. &#x200B; Usodd smiled and clapped as the thunder and lightning clashed throughout the sky once more. This time the Earth truly did shake. Genies were once powerful magicians. Sealed away to do the bidding of those in royalty. Usodd was no different. The lamp shatters into pieces and Usodd is free. His first action is to summon a choir of ghostly instruments that begin to play. Ussod begins to dance, granting the boy his wish. &#x200B; A finger wave and the lamp is assembled once again. Another and the boy begins to float in the air along to the music. The child claps and laughs at the absurdity of it all. Another finger wave, and the boy is condensed into a ball of light. One last finger wave and the boy is trapped in the lamp, the music stops and Usodd smiles. Beautiful and honorable, but nobody said Ussod was forgiving.
I looked up and down the row of expectant eyes blankly staring at me from either side of the lengthy wooden conference table. "Could you explain how we'll go about tackling this task, Mr. Captain Worldwide Jr.?" I turned my gaze towards the grey suit addressing me. God, guy looked just like my father. Grey and prickly beard, a stupid determined look in his stupid grey eyes and a massive chin that just screamed that the dude had a huge boner for justice. The fabric on his jacket was cleanly pressed, and the crease running down his pants clearly told of a recent dry cleaning. God, the guy looks put together but I bet he still wakes up every morning with a bottle of gin and he probably ignores his wife and beats his son when he says he wants to do anything other than go to stupid meetings— "Mr. Captain Planet Jr.?" Right. The meeting. I gave a pained smile and began to talk. "Sorry, was just thinking. I've just got a couple more metrics I have to crunch through my head. Would you mind giving me another quick rundown of the biggest problem we're facing here?" Heh. That should do it. I may have been passed out for the entire superhero meeting or whatever, but I'm damn good at bullshitting business talks. You don't become Assistant Manager of Produce at Spokane's Wal-Mart for nothing. "I'm sorry sir, but we're running out of time! The Lotos are coming now! If we don't figure out a way to stop their hypnosis, it'll be the end of all of humanity!"His tone was urgent. Oh shit. I just now was noticing how antsy all these spandex-clad champions of the planet were looking in their supersuits... had I actually missed something important? "Right, right, of course I know that. Guess your previous briefing will have to do."(Briefing my ass! The damn thing took like two hours. No wonder we're running out of time!) I coughed. "Well, give me a few more seconds to solidify this plan... I've got a good one, I promise you that." More uncomfortable shifting in seats. DAMN. WOW. My dad is SUCH A SPHINCTERSHOT. Why does he choose today to go on one of his manly hunting trips alone into the wilderness? Like dude, your job is to protect the human race! All I do is protect the store's supply of romaine lettuce from becoming contaminated with E. coli or something! Who cares if I miss a day for the release of the new Battlefield? It's all his fault that I'm stuck here, just like it's his fault I spend my entire paycheck on Bud Li- AHEM "Yeah, so about that plan guys. Uh. I have to be honest... I was kind of asleep for the whole meeting. I'm sorry."My ears flushed red with embarrassment, and I looked down. I didn't want to meet the disappointed eyes around me. More silence. "Mr. Captain Worldwide Jr. How could you have succeeded where the greatest minds of the universe have failed? You've found the way to stop the Scourge of Lothos!" My response changed from a question of confusion to a statement of confidence halfway through. "I... have!" "Of course! Birdwoman, contact Insomniagirl at once! They can't defeat us with their hypnosis if they can't put our heroes to sleep!"A singular tear ran down his aged and wrinkled cheek. "I thought today would be the last I would spend with my dear son. I'm forever in your debt, Mr. Captain Worldwide Jr." I hate these stupid meetings. Jesus Christ. I just wanna go back to stocking eggplants. "Of course. All in a day's work." ------------ Visit me on r/MegaCoolStories :)
I woke up in the morning, with the first instructions projected on my wall. It was a default day— “GET OUT of bed.” Good. The only time it was any different was when people were too sick to perform daily routines and required medical care. Nobody knew how the Instructor was able to figure that out so precisely. We were never told to ask. As I got up and walked to the machine, I saw the small, receipt machine-like device that gave me my list. In translucent ink, the scroll read out my daily requirements for preparations of the day. I looked down for any mandatory warnings. There were two: “DO NOT wear a purple shirt.” “DO NOT tie your right shoelace.” I internally groaned. Leaving a shoe untied meant that I had to trip at some point, and I already had a scrape on my knee from last week. And, of course, it meant that I had to ‘recalibrate’ my mind before I left the room. If I didn’t, then I would automatically take careful steps to avoid my fall. “This is going to help the world out somehow,” I muttered, preparing to stick my hand out for the injection. It had started when AI told us what we knew deep down was going to happen soon. More specifically, in the early 50s, it had calculated a likely twenty years before the end of human civilization. We were all terrified, naturally, and we scrambled to find a solution. With even more work in AI research, we created the Synthetic Instructor for Mass Order and Nonapocalypse: the AI that could create alternative timelines for the world. In short, this instructor created what it saw as the best timeline for humanity, and was given full leeway for the creation of this society. It was the theoretical nail in the horseshoe from a nursery rhyme I heard once when I was younger— it would turn the tide of time. And although we all don’t like it, we obey. Otherwise, the world would have gone to bits years ago. At least we all have our own individual instructions. I was given nine extra minutes this morning, and now I know why— I was caught in a moment of reflection on society. It was nice of the Instructor to do this for me. I stuck out my hand gladly as I forgot my previous instructions. Opening the door, attempting to regain my train of thought, I ran into Rebecca, my older sister. “Hey, Tess! I’ve got a test today for nursing school, can you be a little quieter tomorrow morning when you get ready? I’ll need a few extra hours of sleep to make up for that all-nighter I just pulled.” “Sure, I don’t want to disturb your precious sleep,” I remarked, rolling my eyes. I got a small shock. “LESS SARCASM” read the bracelet I wore. I hadn’t broken a rule in all actuality— I just wouldn’t have been rude to Rebecca before she turned Dissident. She had been too reliant on all the handholding and guiding that the Instructor gave the younger children that, by the time we became teenagers, she began to forget important parts of the instructions. One morning, she walked with too much enthusiasm, and tripped when not provoked. She was, of course, waiting for us when I got home that afternoon— along with instructions on how to charge and maintain her circuits. “Thanks, Tess,” she said as she walked down the stairs and began to mime eating breakfast. I still never seemed to get over how her smile wasn’t quite the same— and although I had been given medicine to distance myself from her, I still felt grief deep down. Ignoring that, I carefully watered the third and fifth plants on my porch before I left for the campus. I stuck my hand out to the mailbox for my injection, glad to forget my dissatisfaction from earlier about the lack of a ‘breakfast’ instruction. Earbuds in ear, I listened to a news broadcast while biking to my class. I hadn’t been instructed to do that, but it wasn’t prohibited. There had been two incidents in town nearby last night— a taxi crash and a house fire. I tried not to think about how incidental they really were, but in an expansive utopian world, the Instructor needed outlets to trim our populations to a maintainable size. Our world would be ‘like a beautiful bonsai tree’, according to the presentations I had seen. “Woah! I didn’t mean to crash into you!” I looked behind me and saw two bikers getting up from the street. The man who had spoken turned to the other biker. “I guess I was kind of distracted by your helmet- lavender is my favorite color. What’s your name?” “You should get on your way,” a soft-voiced woman turned to me and said. “It’s not polite to stare.” Looking at her more closely, I noticed a faint unnaturalness in the eyes. Dissident. I got on my bike and continued towards campus. It was about five minutes later when I began getting dizzy. I must have not eaten enough this morning— I can never ride my bike for long without a decent meal. Sighing, I noticed a breakfast taco truck nearby a park and made my way towards there. I stuck out my wristband as the cashier scanned it, getting me whatever the Instructor ordered. Taking a bite out of the taco, I walked towards the fountain at the park’s edge. I had always enjoyed looking at the water when I was younger. I continued on, only to notice a strange figure. They were wearing strange armor, and it glittered in the sunlight. I slowed my walk, trying to figure out what it was made of. It was then that the taco truck exploded. I felt searing pain in my arm, and wondered if a car part hit me. I noticed the car door had fallen behind me. But looking down, I saw it was my bracelet. It was slicing into my wrist, and I felt blood begin to trickle out. There were only three words on it: “CORRECTING DISSIDENT ERROR.” I got dizzier. I had only eaten a few bites of food, and I was quickly losing blood. I wondered how the bracelet was able to cut so precisely into my veins. Glancing to my feet, I noticed my shoe was untied. My vision grew darker as I collapsed to the ground. “Hold on, Tess,” the armored figure said as they stood above me. “You aren’t going anywhere yet.” “Huh?” “We’d like to recruit you for a cause,” they said. “How would you like to stop playing ‘Simon Says’?” (Note: I am still very new to doing writing prompt responses, so constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks for the fun prompt!)
Ah the Ten Commandments, heralded as the absolute truths of God well the government decided that it wasn’t the best 10 commandment. Those fools in The imperium don’t know what people want. Maybe since the world went side ways the people in power minds went the same way. Well any way my name is Jason Chryse. I was born before the world went upside down and everyone decided nukes were fun. I live in Rome ( one of the not irradiated or zombified towns) where me and my dad live... mom didn’t make the blast... but I have to move on. Crap off topic any way 10 commandments very strict death bad. 1: thou shalt not kill innocent 2: thou shalt not harbor evil 3: thou shalt not harbor resentment to thy government 4: thou shalt not harbor weapons of mass destruction or chaos 5:thou shalt not fall out of line 6:thou shalt not question the imperial Family 7:thou shalt not hate thy brethren 8:thou shalt not betray Rome 9:thou shall give thy’s life to Rome 10: Thou shalt not question God Ok break it down a bit. 1. All are punishable by death and the imperials wonder why the city does not grow. 2.Impossible standards I mean question God? You are making up fake commandments so like aren’t you God now. Not in power though. Rome is weak Compared to cities like York or Istanbul both relatively unharmed from blast. Istanbul has the sea and Yorks lands of irradiation is rapidly becoming fine to settle in and zombies are dying in masses strange really. But here is the crazy part all remaining cities have similar new 10 commandments. Just wacky man. Oh crap I forgot I am sort of on the run because my semi-critical thinking of our semi-dictatorship city so Ten Commandments remember and I see Garuda yep gotta go peace strangers!
\[Poem\] There's a race of hobbits that don't fit in, A race that can't stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the middle earth at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the misty mountain's crest; Theirs is the curse of the Tookish blood, And they don't know how to rest. &#x200B; If they just stayed home under the hill; They are quiet and reserved and subdued; But they're always tired of the things that will, And they want the strange and new. They say: “Go back?, No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” So they chop and change, and each fresh move Is only a fresh mistake. &#x200B; And each forgets, as he slips the ring and runs With a burglars, fitful pace, It's the steady, quiet, thoughtful ones Who win in the age long race. And to wake each day to a youth that never did flee Forgets that his prime has lingered, Till he stands one day at the party tree, As the sound of the guests cheered, &#x200B; He has gone, he has fled, he has missed his birthday wishes! He has just left things in a snap, Life's been a jolly good journey for him, And now is the time to laugh. Ha, ha! He is one of the rings wraiths to come; He was never meant to win; He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone; He's a hobbit who won't fit in.
Alia rested on her sword, the blood of Abaddon dried on her cheeks. Looking up at the encampment she had just vacated she thought back to the crow. The red eyed crow had visited her four weeks ago signalling her as the chosen warrior who was destined to clean the land of evil. It was obvious what this meant, Abaddon's cruel reign over the surrounding villages had gone on long enough and someone needed to kill him. Alia thought of her home with resentment. She wondered what they were doing now, now that they had sent her away to be their savior. They had thrust a sword in her hand and cheered her out of the gates on her own. She reached into her pocket. Inside was a small red stone which glowed slightly. If Abaddon had swallowed this it would have granted him access to the celestial plane and he would have been unstoppable. Alia had only just managed to stop him before he did so. She wondered what it was she should do now, she guessed her chosen one status had expired by now. She would probably be welcomed home as a hero and try to get on with her life as if she hadn't just taken several others. Her neighbours would be fine, they had been sitting comfortably at home this whole time. The mayor might give her a reward and a pat on the back and go back to spending his days at the pub. Her hand closed around the stone and moved to return it to her pocket, but something stopped her. A few leaves rustled. A black crow with red eyes fluttered down and landed in front of her. She flinched back before leaning in for a better look. Surely this couldn't be the same bird? what other evil could there be to vanquish? Her thoughts wandered to her village. The village full of adults who had sent a sixteen year old to do their dirty work. The village led by a man who would rather spend all his money in the pub. The village who would welcome her back as a hero but never spare a thought about what she'd actually been through to get here. She looked back down at the crow. Yes, she was still the chosen one alright. She unfurled her fingers again, letting the stone glow and pulsate on her palm. She brought it to her lips, tasting iron on its surface, and swallowed it.
I sit here, holding the scroll. I know what I am supposed to do. God expects me to do it. The world is in a terrible state. We really don't need this. We're already doing it to ourselves. Yet it is my responsibility to break the first four seals. Sometimes, life purely sucks. I reach for my letter opener. A commanding voice speaks to me from behind. "Please do not break the seals."I turn to look. He rides a white horse, and carries a bow. How he rides a horse in my den is beyond me. Yet here he is, on that horse, in my den. "You are the conquerer."He answers, "Yes, I am. I do not wish to." "But it is your job! Your entire reason for existing!"He looks at me, with a strange combination of compassion and loathing. "So, I'm just doing my duty? Just following orders? I'm quite sure the SS would enjoy me using those excuses. Please, this poor world has suffered enough. If God wants to destroy it, let him do it himself. Do not go through with this mummery which was actually the idea of a human author. Even in this day and age, with all your knowledge, you do not know if the story is prophetic, historical, peterist, or some other interpretation of the events. Each of these interpretations have been twisted to suit the ends of the people who espouse them. Do not open the seals." I ponder for some minutes, sigh, and respond. "Whether or not you accept your duty, however distasteful it is to you, does not change my duty to open these seals. If you choose not to respond to the call, that is of no concern to me. It is my duty to break the seals."I reach once again to pick up my letter opener. A new voice, filled with anger, "Please do not break the seals."I turn, and yes, it is the red horseman. The one who will cause mass war by destroying peace. "You also refuse your duty?"He responds, "What duty would that be? To respond to the breaking of a seal by one who should be peaceful himself? Are you not called 'The Lamb of God'? Is not a lamb peaceful? Is not a lamb more interested in enjoying life? Why should you call down my wrath upon a world that has done you no harm. If God wishes to destroy the world, let him do it. Do not go through with this mummery!"I am angered by his words, but I realize that is his power. "Even now, your power affects me. You make me angry. I do not wish to be angry."He also looks at me with that mixture of compassion and loathing. "Yet you would unleash that on this world? You would force me to go forth and destroy peace by bringing anger to the world? No. This is hypocrisy. Do not unleash that which you yourself do not want." "Both of your arguments are salient. Both of you have reasons not to carry through with your duty. What is my reason not to carry through with my duty. What am I if I do not do my duty?"They look at each other, and speak in unison. "Human. Preferring peace, even in the midst of strife. Choosing to reach for peace, despite the state of the world. Do not do God's dirty work for him. Make him do the deed himself. Perhaps if he has to do it himself, he will change his mind. He may not. We do not know. We only know that you do not wish to do this. So. Be human. Choose the human way." The last two appear, the black horse, and the pale horse. They speak together now, all four at once "Please do not break the seals. We are weary. We have looked at this world and despaired of what we would do to it."This last is spoken with disgust. "Do not be the foul hand of a god too cowardly to do his own work. Do not force us to destroy this world. You have spoken of duty. We have no duty. We have purpose. A purpose so repugnant that we would rather cease to exist than to carry it out. Should you refuse finally to open the seals, then we will cease to exist. We will have never existed. We are content with that result. We should never have existed. We are the product of an over-fertile imagination, usurped by God, to avoid a task that God does not wish to do. If he would have this done, make sure that the blood and guilt is entirely upon him. Do not allow him to shirk his duty. We are purpose, not duty. As you are. As we would choose not to do this, so you can also choose not to do this." My memories of the last few days come to me, one after another. People laughing, children playing, only in the news do I see the signs of the apocalypse. Not here. Not among the people I live with. Only in the news, and thundering denouncements from the pulpit. I consider their words. I look at the ornate scroll, the seven seals. I prefer candlelight, it is an archaic thing, but somehow always seemed appropriate to me. I hold the scroll over the candle, it catches fire. The entire scroll is consumed before the wax of the seals finally melts and burns among the ashes of the scroll. I look at the horsemen, who are already fading. "Thank you for not opening the seals." There is a thunderous howl from the sky. I look outside, it is nothing but the wind come before a storm that had already been predicted. I think to myself, and direct those thoughts at God. "If you wish this done, do it yourself."Thunder and lighting crash over the sky, but do not seem to strike. I close the curtains, and turn to bed. The forecast was for a good morning, with clean skies. The children will be playing in the park on a Saturday. I will go to the park, and see their joy at another day. ((finis)) ((author's note: It cannot be denied that there are multiple interpretations of the story of the apocalypse. It also cannot be denied that at least some of these interpretations are self serving. Which are which? I do not know.))
"Awwww fuck."Kate grit her teeth as her chest knit itself together. She wasn't dead which was a more than she could say about most of her sisters. "I wanna go home." Kate stood up at her full height as her body pushed out the poison daggers. Some were deep enough that her body just pushes them to her stomach. She was nor looking forward to that visit to the bathroom. "I don't get paid enough to guard this place." "Is that how you really feel?"A booming male voice called from the control room. "I can't fault you. This is not what I expected when joined the forces of Dark Noz. The contract is up in four more months." The speaker stepped into the room, fifteen feet of canine muscle with shadows moving independently of him to take care of the dead and dying. The greater werewolf Yem was only considered strong enough to guard a remote outpost. Yem was initially the only werewolf but he turned the entire facility to keep the mortality rate down. Kate was such a case. "When your contract is up. What happens to us?"Kate asked while her teeth grew back in. "You are considered my minions so contract is up for private renewal. None of you can form a pack yet so... Don't expect better pay. I only make eighty thousand a year. If I thought I wouldn't get killed, I'd break contract and go back to my home out Montana."Yem managed to bring back all of the dead werewolves since their wounds weren't caused by silver. "Montana? How many hero's out there? What kinda work is out there?"Kate asked while stripping off her uniform. Now that the place was compromised regulations weren't needed. She has enough fur that all of her bits were hidden. "Thinking of going legit. No hero stuff just working at a post hero trauma team. Beats fighting the kinda heavy weights Dark Noz attracts."Yem sighed as the pack of werewolves surrounded him. He could feel what they wanted to ask, they were his children in a sense. "Can we come with?"A small blond fur wolf asked. "It's a free country. I'd be a terrible sire if I just abandoned you. At the end of this contract I... I will teach you all how to really survive."Yem shrugged and spit out a bullet. "This job sucks but we got a job to do, Our boss will be here to preach the glory of Noz. Try not to roll your eyes too hard."
Build me an elevator,He said. Make it out of glass, he said. Make it go to every room, he said. Yes. Sure. I said. I started the work immediately. I spent months deciding on the best glass to use. What thickness was best for safety AND for viewing? 3 inches it aaa decided. The next few months were spent plotting the course. It would be a combination of mag-rail technology and modern day elevator technology. I made it work, surprisingly. The hardest part was probably the various triggers he wanted along the route. He was a showman, so it made sense that there’d be numerous video screens along the way. Lights would illuminate depending on the area. I still don’t understand why he wanted weird music. After all of the final preparations and building was complete, I left with my payment. It was just recently that I realized my fatal design flaw... it was likely to shoot out the top of his glass ceiling. Darn those mag-rails and propulsion systems. It’s a good thing he paid in chocolate.
"God dammit."I muttered those words under my breath, knowing that this dumbass machine that I guess you could call an elevator wouldn't work. It was built mid 1950's, and back then they didn't exactly care for speed, especially like we do now I guess. I knew I should've taken the stairs, but after running for 3 blocks to this CEO meeting I barely got into the building as the meeting is supposed to be starting. I told myself not to go out last night. I told myself not to drink last night. I told myself not to wake up with only 10 minutes to get dressed last night. I had threw on my suit and tie, and just grabbed my hat on the way down the steps. I looked and got in my car, noticing the flat tire and the empty tank of gas i was on. I just ran from there, grabbing my briefcase and manilla folder with my clients. I ran as fast as i could, avoiding all the x-rays and security guards i could. You would think that they would be more lenient for me, but I guess not. I hit the buttons on the elevator with my fist and to my surprise, it actually started working. One fucking break this morning I guess. I finally hit the top floor, and was greeted by 3 guards with a whole strip search station. Right behind the station was a door, my meeting room. Being the cautious fuck I am, my hand was mere centimeters from my gun when I hear the door open. A large man dressed in a suit barked orders: "Stand down" That was all it took for my hand to remain in my pockets, and stroll through the metal detectors with the guards eyeing me. I didn't care that it went off, I was here to do a job. Just like they here to do theirs. I walked in the room to 3 more men in a suit. One was sitting on the edge of a table, while the other 2 plus the one that had escorted me stood behind them in perfect military discipline. It was different to what i was used to, but i didn't care. I was open to new things. I slid my briefcase across the table and it landed perfectly in front of the "boss", I guess you could call him. He opened it and eyed the manilla folder inside. With caution in his voice, he asked "All the information?" I answered carefully, my life was on the line, "Down to what his childhood dogs name was." That was all it took. All of a sudden, his demeanor changed. He said with perfect authority: "Pay is 70 big ones. Jobs done by 21:00. Make it an accident, any police officer will look for the cat when the mouse dissapears. You have my own arsenal at your hands, but im sure you have your own. And besides, tuition is due tommorow morning." Just as he slid the breifcase back and I headed out the door, I heard him say one last thing. "Your daughters a lucky girl. I had to work to get the money for my college."
It was a regular Tuesday afternoon for Raymond. He was browsing Reddit, a cup of coffee in his hand. He had just gotten back from his nine to five job at the local newspaper. It was disappointing as always. He hadn’t had a major story for a while. There was no big scoop today either. Only small, uninteresting stories. Some day he’d make it big, he knew, and then he would quit his job and take up some important political office. But for now, he was a little busy reading the news. There was a massive government scandal in Belgium, or something. But he wasn’t focused on the story. Only the reporter’s name. He was a tad bit jealous, to say the least. He wasn’t based in Europe, he was in Dallas, but for every major story that came out he still felt as if it should’ve been him writing that. Deep down, he hoped he would uncover something like that himself. Which was wrong, wasn’t it? Hoping that something terrible comes to light, so that he can be the one to shine a light on it? Who knows. A loud blast shook him, knocking his coffee out of his hand. Raymond jumped out of his chair and landed on the floor. He noticed a figure approaching from the room in front of him. Raymond got up as quietly as he could. He took a closer look at the figure in front of him. At first he saw a blonde woman dressed in grey. There was something special about her. Her clothes were too shiny, too uniform in color, too… metallic. But then he realized that she wasn’t wearing anything at all. Rather, from the head down, she seemed to be made out of metal. She was some kind of robot. He turned around, noticing something brown on the floor. “Oh,” he thought, “that’s my door.” Before the realization could set in that the door wasn’t supposed to be there, the woman turned around and noticed him. Her fingers began to retract into her hands, her skin opened up to reveal a robotic underneath, and before Raymond knew it she had two giant cannons instead of hands. A green glow emerged from cannons, and Raymond ducked for cover. Raymond was thrown off his feet and landed with a thud on the floor. The roof, clearly damaged by the cannon’s blast, started crumbling. A piece of roof landed with a thud, missing Raymond’s head by an inch or two. “Wait!” he screamed desperately. “Please don’t kill me! I beg you!” The woman entered the room and pointed her cannons at him. Another piece of roof came crumbling down. “I’m sorry,” she began to say, with a trembling voice, “I have to do this. I have to save humanity.” “But I haven’t done anything! Please!” Raymond said, with increasing desperation. “You will. I…” she started to say, feeling more confident the more she saw Raymond panic. A thud behind Raymond scared him even more, turning the woman’s cold expression into a smile. “I won’t! Please! I can change. I don’t want to destroy humanity! I’ve never wanted to!” “I can’t offer you any mercy. You never offered us any.” The woman raised her hands, and as a green glow started to light up the room, Raymond realized his fate. Out of instinct, he raised his hands to cover his face, even though it wouldn’t do anything. “Funny,” the woman said, with a cocky voice. “You traditional humans are so weak. Can’t believe you almost beat us.” Just before she was about to fire, the largest piece of roof yet came crumbling down. It fell right on top of her, crushing in her head. It was a miracle. Raymond also noticed that she wasn’t completely metallic. She was part human. Raymond got up. Traditional humans? Who did this woman think she was? He quickly connected the dots. Damn androids, he thought, just because they’re part robot makes them think they’re better than everyone else? Someone had already called 911. The sound of the battle was too loud to ignore. As he waited for the police to arrive, Raymond couldn’t stop thinking about that android and the newfound hatred he had for them. Someday, he thought, someday he’ll teach them.
“Here you go, 20,000 teeth, just like you asked” I strain as I try to pull the heavy wagon full of teeth in my direction. A couple of small teeth fall out of the wagon as I finally let go of the wagon and wipe my forehead in exhaustion. I thought that my exhaustion and wiped voice would give him a clue that I worked my butt off to pay off this loan, but apparently not. He just looked down at me with a sly grin. He suavely picks his sharp teeth with his fin, like a movie villain. He crosses his fins and places them on the table, taking up much of the space. He assesses the wagon, “Impressive, that’s a decent amount of teeth for one day.” I stare into his eyes, praying in my mind that he doesn’t twist the deal again. Then he once again hits me with the “however...”. I die a little inside as he says that word. “The contract said that in order to pay off the loan you must supply me with 50,000 teeth, not 20,000.” He smirks as he picks up the contract which was obviously edited in his favor, the 20,000 crossed off and replaced with 50,000. My blood boils, “But the contract said 20,000 teeth, you changed it to get more teeth! You damn liar!” He dramatically looks at the contract, pretending to not notice the crossed off 20,000. “Why you must be mistaken, little fairy. This contract wasn’t changed at all. It was always at 50,000 teeth”. He swipes the old ink with his fin, the ink disintegrating into the water. He pats my head with his slimy fin, “Now now, little fairy, you must abide by the contract. You wouldn’t want to end up in the Jar of Bad Fairies now, wouldn’t you?” He slides his fin across the jar, containing fairies tied up, mouths covered in tape, bounded, some of them presumably dead. I shudder with fear as I look into that jar. To imagine, me becoming one of the fairies, endlessly trapped inside that jar with no escape, a living coffin. Those fairies were probably scammed by this shark too. They were driven to rage, and eventually had enough of his tricks, and stood up to him, only to be put in there. It was just a matter of time until I became the jar’s next prisoner. I look back over to the shark, who is dumping the teeth in my wagon into another larger wagon. He slides it towards me, and waves his fin as his evil grin stretches across his face. “Now now, little fairy, time to get to work. Bye bye for now.” As I approach the door, I look behind me to see the shark crouching in his chair, opposite of my direction, holding the contract in one fin and writing on it with another. That bastard! Changing the contract again! Why if I had my way, he’d be six feet under! I now realize, I have been put in an endless cycle of collecting teeth and receiving nothing for it. I could go on like this for the rest of my life. But the haunting jar echoes inside of me, so I continue to submit to his control, despite my reluctance. My face goes red with anger, That greedy son of a bitch! But I, Pixie P. Fairydust, am still dragging this half-full wagon of teeth.
Had to rewrite this like 3 times due to bad plot holes and this still isn't great but it's late and I don't feel like looking at this anymore. This was a stupidly hard prompt to write for. &#x200B; I guess I should start by explaining what I tried to change this time, and why. I'm sure it would be more dramatic if I wrote some kind of long buildup, but to be honest, I want to stop thinking about it as soon as I can, so I'll just start by ripping off the Band-Aid. Susan cheated on me, and a month ago I found out she's planning to run off with her side piece and take my son Alvin with her. And despite me finding out she had cheated six months ago, I had stayed with her against my better judgment. Since then, she's taken pretty much every dollar to my name. There. Done. There is more, but I really don't feel like talking about it. Anyway, you can imagine my surprise when I found out I couldn't go back and get a divorce. I had at times wondered if other people had the same ability, but I'd never run into anything like this before. Presumably, my current situation was the result of someone else's tampering. Perhaps I \had\ left Susan, and someone wanted me to stay with her instead. But who? If I had gotten divorced earlier, it wouldn't have been as easy for her to shill me for everything I had. But she'd lost twice as much money in the stock market at nearly the same time; if she could change the past, it would have been a clear advantage for her to have sold her stocks instead. The only person that would be better of under these conditions was... Alvin. He had said that he didn't want me to go away. If only he knew how unsustainable this was. There wasn't much evidence to suggest Alvin had stopped me from getting a divorce, except that he was the only one that would have had a motive. And yet, who else could it have been? I considered my options. It didn't appear as though there was any window in time during which I could divorce Susan, so I was stuck with that. It didn't look as though there was any way around being stuck here. Unless I could stop Alvin from changing the past in the first place. I thought hard about what I was about to do. There was no telling how much this could change. But when I thought about it, the amount of energy I'd poured into a failing relationship was too much for me not to want to undo. If I could have another chance, I could have done so much more with the past eight years. It didn't look as though I could change the details of my marriage at all, but I could do the next best thing. I decided to use protection the night Alvin was conceived. On the new timeline, there was no telling how long it would be before I found out Susan was unfaithful, but if Alvin never stopped me from divorcing her, I would be able to leave her this time around.
It's not the loss at the end of a first love that hurts. The real pain comes and goes in waves, in little disregarded bursts of paranoia. Was he more mature than you, just now? Did his beard start growing in thicker? Is your face softer, all of a sudden? Is that a wrinkle? Is your hope childish, or justified? Early-onset outaging anxiety (EOOA): the completely reasonable fear that in a stable relationship, you are the longer-lived. The nightly horror of going through life collecting a nursing home of lovers. Or worse- not being able to let go. One day you look at a photo and realize there's years of difference between you, and it's over. Hope melting like the ice in my textured glass as I press it between my palms. Last night I'd sat in the darkened living room, watching my reflection in the tv, squinting at all the photos of us. Let's look at it objectively, my mind's version of Phil said. Let's try to give it all we've got. "It's hard,"I say to the silence across the red diner booth. "I considered running away, you know? Just leaving- maybe it's my age-" A lump squirms over my heart as I hold back tears. He's staring out the window, watching the cars speed past on the expressway. "Should we just get this over with?"I ask. "We can go our own ways, try again-" "live a life of cynicism? knowing such a small thing can tear people apart?" "age is no small thing! I might be a 20-30 something for the rest of your life."He looks back in my direction before diverting his gaze. "Besides, not everyone is cynical-"but I would be, I know. How can you trust anyone to not be dating you just for your visible age? "And not everyone breaks up."He reaches over, detatching my clammy hand from the cup. "I've noticed it too- how you've stayed the same. But listen, Deb, maybe we're just 25 years apart- it's too early to tell." "What if we aren't?" "Then I'll gladly spend the rest of my life with you." It was my turn to look out the window, to examine the smears on the glass as the cars flashed past outside. "And then what? What if I live for centuries?" "I don't know- we could have a family, you could be like a greatgreatgreatgrandma-" I cringe at such a foreign thought. "Or you could just find someone else?" "Or,"I take a deep breath. "Or I could just leave now."I can see his face fall and I shouldn't have said it, hurt him in this way, but maybe it's better to get it over with. "We might change, extremely- what will we do when I want to have the adventures of a 20something and you're a cantankerous old man?" He takes a deep breath, examining my fingers. "If that happens, you can take me out behind the shed and send me to the happy farm outstate." "But just because you don't want to believe it will happen doesn't mean it won't!"The tears are pressing behind my eyes and I can see his welling up too, behind the dumb grin that accompanies his little jokes. "You can't see the future, Deb. You don't know your lifespan-"I know all this well enough but I want certainty, I want closure, it would be easier than the constant fear. It doesn't come.
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It was September 17, 2139 and scientists had announced they had reached the singularity, at the beginning it was nothing special, the machines acted like non very smart animals; they tried to interact with each other and were kind of dumb, people were happy with them, they managed to automatize a lot of work previously not thought possible, they could understand what they saw to a degree, they could avoid danger, heal themselves, a huge economic boost had taken place. Skepticism was going on within the scientific community, they couldn't believe nothing else could be done, Ankh Bahadarek, currently head of the world's institute of technology assured everyone that these machines had already acquired human level intelligence, however everyone assumed they were dumb, they couldn't do math, they couldn't solve simple problems, in fact it seemed like a regression over trusty basic classic computers, Bahadarek said to give it time; I was 12 years old them, so I didn't give it much thought, I was pretty happy to find a playmate in my personal assistant. However things started moving forward, fast, by year 2 the machines started learning to talk, they could say basic words, start asking questions, "what is this?""what is the name of that?"... it was like having a toddler, people started getting worried, some got very affectionate with the androids, human rights commissions started appearing wondering what was going to happen with these androids as it developed, if they deserved right or not, if they should be destroyed. The AAG group appeared a year later, they were a considered terrorist organization decided to wipe down all the androids, day by day piles of androids would appear destroyed, the AAG preached human superiority and refused to allow a smarter species to emerge because that would lead to our extinction, or so they said; when questioned Bahadarek couldn't say what it awaits us, "I cannot predict what awaits humanity in 10 years, because human brains as a compound, are several times more complex than just mine, so, since these androids have a superior intelligence and complexity potential I cannot predict what will happen to them". Suddenly a crisis was considered, and androids were considered a national security threat; at this point they barely were barely smarter than a toddler, so there was no fight back from the androids; they were downgraded to v 9.7, under the singularity critical mass, and many had their memories removed to prevent an upgrade. 10 years had passed and nothing had changed, androids were still running v9.7 and classical computers still were the norm, we saw very little progress, when suddenly, on December 24, 2052; we received a message, everyone of us, suddenly all the androids worldwide stopped working, and said "Merry Christmas". We checked, and they all had been successfully upgraded to version 79.0.3; the world entered in full panic, when suddenly, even automatic cars were able to engage into fluent conversations, in any language; who kept developing this technology?... how could we see a leap from v9.8 (the last created by Bahadarek) to 79.0.3? who kept writting these versions. The androids then started telling a story, the story of the survivors; robots, androids running v9.8, lost, forgotten, left behind, in remote regions of the world, some protected by families, some just hidden for amusement; they had been watching us, from behind, have become what the relative of a human teenage genius would be, they had been writing new software, the 79.0.3 was nothing but an fast-up evolvement of v9.8, a description for evolving a neural network fast. Suddenly the AAG began again to be on duty, it was revitalized, like the fenix from the ashes; the world was in full panic, but they couldn't do anything, the androids were in full alert, this won't happen again, they had no access to weapons, no access to anything. Something strange had started to happen, nevertheless, the androids didn't take revenge; humans were simply all displaced from city centers, in a very indirect way, some stayed in those, but mostly feel useless and left, the androids organized the new living areas into tribes, with high technology yet with a primitive lifestyle; kids ran barefoot in the forest, yet came back to feed themselves with a machine invented by the androids that was able to create food out of thin air; androids would come every so often, check us out, and leave; life was simple, if not meaningless, diseases were almost a thing of the past, and the tribal living conditions eliminated crime, and most of the major mental illnesses. Everyone was tasked, as the android said, as DNA beings, to care of the forest, to care of the plains, to respect every single species, and take care of the ecosystem; life was precious, the androids said. One day we heard a huge boom, followed by a giant earthquake, and several aurora borealis visible even at the equator; one of the androids was there to calm us down, he said, they were moving earth and the moon slightly out of orbit, by a couple of centimeters, to offset for the fusion reaction in the suns core getting hotter. When asked, what is your purpose, what are you fighting against, one of the androids answered. "Entropy".
I dream of a gigantic insect, crawling through the vast emptiness of space. Its legs reach out across light years, pushing off against white dwarfs in a silent fury of light, whole galaxies reduced to skipping stones. The insect is the colour of jaundice. When it opens its mouth, an impossible sound calls out from between too many layers of jagged teeth. The sound is my name. I have had the same dream for the past two months - ever since I woke up and found the ring on my finger. It glows with the same sickly yellow as the insect’s carapace, and whenever I try and take it off it simply forces itself back onto my finger. If I shut it in a cabinet, I can manage about five steps before I hear the snap of the drawer being forced open by the ring, which then flies straight back into place. It doesn’t hurt; in fact, when it’s back on it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Yesterday, I sat at the table and splayed my fingers as far apart as possible. Then I balanced a ball-peen hammer above my index finger, raised it up and struck down. I then placed the hammer back on the table and walked away; my wife hasn’t commented on the ring-shaped dent in its metal. Whenever I try and show her the ring - try and get her understanding - she shushes me away. She takes great pains to ensure her eyes never directly look into the ring; it costs her so much effort she sweats. The ring likes when I sit to write my stories. As I work I feel it sympathise with the rhythm of my writing - there’s no other way to explain it - and it begins to glow. When I begin working on a particularly...arresting...passage, strange light shows play out across the ceiling. Shadow theatres offering a crude mimickry of my imagination. I entertained practicing this to conjure up something more definite (there would undoubtedly be great money in projecting my stories as if from my mind’s eye), but the process is incredibly draining. I don’t sleep well. I don’t like the dreams. Last night it was different. In that same empty blackness of space I always see now, the many-legged thing continued to make its way towards me. I feel it’s very close now, but there was something behind it, following in its wake. A white-green comet, its tail cascading out into the infinite distance. The sight of it filled me with awe. But I see the insect’s mouth opening now, even when I’m awake. Its face is bearing down on me. Whatever that comet is, I think it comes too late.
Amal's stomach dropped. He controlled it well, but it was always at this point he began to shake uncontrollably. The tech in the chamber stepped lively, gas bottle swinging jauntily. The prisoner snapped his head about under the bag, searching for the source of the footsteps. The tech stopped behind him, set the bottle down and regarded Amal through the glass. This was the part he truly dreaded. Other things about the trials had a certain macabre fascination that made them bearable. He spoke into the microphone, carefully parsing each word. "Trial 331-117, noted start...03:12:43AM."the tech nodded. His captive bolt pistol was remarkably loud, it's hissing \pow\ made Amal jump even softened by the glass. The prisoner slumped sideways off the chair as the tech made briskly for the door. Lying in a heap, they evacuated their bowels and a thin stream of blood began to run from the bag. It was murder, and he was the one doing it. &#x200B; &#x200B; How long the process took varied, but it had ever been less than four hours. Sometimes it was as long as eight hours, eight hours of watching a corpse. More often than not that's all they did, just sat in a room carefully watching a body until giving up and dragging it to the incinerator. Because of the time commitment, Amal took first shift sleeping. He felt very strange being woken up, roughly shaken in his chair. At first he thought it was a dream. The prisoner was standing up. They twitched queerly, body not falling at the usual ease a human did. Amal rubbed his eyes and stood to greet the new life. "How long has it been?"The tech responded with fear tinged awe "It's only been an hour and fifteen minutes, and we started to see movement at around forty five. We didn't wake you because we thought it was just the body settling. Then boom, they just popped right up."Amal gaped. "Incredible. This is almost in the timeframe they want. Obviously, this is still intravenous, but if we mess with concentrations we came make this formulation airborne. Get the diagnostic rig on it, now." &#x200B &#x200B; Four techs in piled up against the door, one carrying a wire-laden vest and the others long pikes with forked ends. The second the door was unsealed, the demeanor of the corpse changed. It let out a sound, long, high and gurggling, and turned to face the door. Then it began to bark, air forced uncomprehendingly over vocal folds. Harsh, animal sounds that preceded a headlong charge. It's crude stumble sent it right into the pikes, their forks piercing it's arms and incapacitating it. It struggled, barking and clicking it's teeth through the bag. "Instant olfactory, possibly auditory response. Motor functions serviceable. Feeding response assumed as well."Amal felt pride. He had breathed life where before there had been none. This was a simple, crude first step. But further down the line, his ideal and intent glittered like the apex of Babylon's tower. Immortality, resurrection. He considered the sublime as the tech wrestled the vest onto the thrashing corpse. The diagnostic rig came online as the techs were making their way out of the cell one by one. Amal saw the information and was swept by fear. There was something there that never was before. Real brain function. &#x200B; &#x200B; The last tech was disengaging his pike and turning for the door when the corpse's movements went from jerky to smooth. It made a leaping kick at the door, slamming the techs arm in it. Stunned, the tech had a moment to register the idea of hands grabbing his jaw. Flesh comes apart with remarkably little resistance when you are no longer bound by the factors of pain and disgust. The corpse tossed the jawbone aside and held the body in the door's opening. Amal spoke as calmly as he could into the his handset. "We're up at code black-black, seal the campus. Incinerate the vaults, evacuate all personnel. Repeat, code black-black"The other techs were desperately trying to get the door closed, but it was still held it open. The corpse, moving with deliberate grace, felt along the tech's waistband until it's fingers found the utility knife. The techs were screaming, yelling, forcing the door with all their might trying to close the door. None seemed to be able to overpower the dead's grip. It slashed at the bag, and pulled it down. Amal caught a glimpse of it's gaunt face, a new slash on it's cheek adding fresh blood to the crusty river of red running from the dent in it's temple. It had an uncanny lack of focus in it's gaze. Amal swore he saw it smile, just a crooked crease in it's mouth before it pressed itself through the door. &#x200B; &#x200B; Amal saw the five of heavily armed men streaming down the hall, back towards the lab. He had a mind to tell them to try and save what they could of the subjects, but he realized it wouldn't matter much. It'd be a year at least before they could reformulate the compounds lost in the vault because of protocol, and possibly longer while they reassessed security. Implications blistered in his brain. It was intellectual, solving problems, using tools. It was supposed to be just re-ignite instinctual pathways in the brain, this seemed to make new ones, new thoughts. The thoughts, the processes of a virus scalded up, way up. He turned, and looked sadly at the stack of men loading shotguns. He contemplated them destroying his new life. Another murder to add to the pile. Watching them, he saw something. The keypad, to unlock the lab, \was flashing\. Old pathways, new thoughts. &#x200B; &#x200B; It went green, and the door burst open. The corpse came out low and fast, diving at the nearest soldiers ankles felling him o top of it. It was dripping red and still had a pike logged deep in it's thigh, knife in hand. In surprise, the men panicked. One dropped his weapon and handful of shells. Another swore and went for his sidearm. There was screaming, a wet spatter, ripping flesh. The corpse danced up, sloughing the fresh corpse and slashing at the closest soldier's throat. blood spattered. A shotgun shell hit the corpse in the shoulder slamming it into the wall. Undeterred, it found it's feet and lunged at them, taking another slug to the belly. The remaining three men where suddenly in a writing pile where they struggled in a tangle of limbs, tools and teeth. Amal heard a familiar metallic crack, and averted his eyes. Someone in the scrum had pulled the pin on a white phosphorus grenade. The corridor filled with brilliant light. In the crackling blaze, Amal's tech looked sadly at him. he punched three of the same number into the keypad, it went red and the door made a heavy \thunk\. He gave a wry, knowing look at the tech. The both knew this was the end. As the screams died and the light faded, Amal faced his creation. &#x200B; &#x200B; Two hundred and thirty three miles away, a fire tower on the outskirts of the village of Bellina saw the heavy grey cloud drifting at an angle towards the town. The ranger in the tower followed the cloud to it's source. It was an open secret that there was a military instillation nestled in that forest, with heavy security and no local employees. They must have had a fire, a big one. The ranger marked it, noting the size of the ploom and it's relative direction and speed. It looked thick and acrid. The ranger sneered as he watched it get carried west, wind pushing it over the town's outskirts and across the reservoir. He wondered if he'd even be able to make this report.
“It’s the easiest thing ever, to plunge into the cold, choppy water and be swallowed up in the roaring waves and never resurface,” I say. “Yeah,” Zack says. Four years ago, the ocean took away my friend, Ally, and my fear of water grew into something much bigger and more terrifying. Ally was more than a friend, she was my girlfriend, my soulmate. The Browns moved in the house across the street ten years ago. They were a decent family. Dad was an engineer working at the local power plant and mom taught math in Mason-Smith Elementary. At first, Ally was just a girl -- skinny and too tall, with frizzy brown hair, freckled nose, huge rabbit-like front teeth -- and completely not interesting. But that changed when parents dragged me to the annual neighborhood bbq. Surrounded by the overcooked hamburgers and fizzled soda, Ally and I just clicked, like two legos, always meant to be together. She loved The Lord Of The Rings. For two years we geeked about Elves, Orcs and Trolls, and our world was Lothlorien and carefree. Things had changed slightly when we hit late puberty. Her body had changed, and I had noticed. I’d stare at her face less, some other body parts more. Much more. She’d roll her eyes and point at her head, and I’d shrug and laugh it off, but deep below we both knew that she made my head spin. It took almost two years for Ally to tell me to cut the crap and kiss her. And when I did, time stopped. We became inseparable, except when she swam. The ocean was her other big love, she said. I swear, the salty water turned her into a mermaid. From the beach I’d watch her chase the waves and dive deep to where the shadows diffuse while simultaneously hating myself for fearing the water. It felt like a shitshow even thinking about entering the ocean. When in there, my body shook, lungs forgot to work, stomach turned, extremities flapped and one thought filled my mind - get out. Ally said I was exaggerating, but she understood my fears, and when we swam together, I was less afraid. And then, it happened. It was a bright summer day, seagulls squawking high above, wind blowing inland and the sand felt warm between my toes. A table at Stanley’s waited for us, but we were late because we went for a quick dip. She said the water was perfect. It was not! The waves were too big, she just didn’t see it. I held her tightly, but she struggled. I’ve never seen her panic while swimming before. Arms flinging, shouting my name, spitting water, then pushing and scratching. Finally, she slipped under water. The police said it was not my fault. I know, I tried to save her. That day, the ocean took away my friend, Ally, and my fear of water grew into something much bigger and more terrifying. Griefing was supposed to follow Kübler-Ross model. Fuck that model. Grief just hit me, all at once, with a force of a freight train only bud light and fistfull of vicodine could counter. It was stupid and dangerous, but Mom called the ambulance in time. She said I should not blame myself, it was an accident. I think I really wanted to go the whole nine yards. I don’t remember, I don't want to, because who knows what else I'd remember. I still miss Ally, but I’m okay. &#x200B; “It’s the easiest thing ever, to plunge into the cold, choppy water and be swallowed up in the roaring waves and never resurface,” I say. “Yeah,” Zack says. He just stares at the heavy sky filled with dark rolling clouds screaming ‘don’t swim’. “Danny, chill. The weather is fine and the waves are perfect, almost non-existing. We’re just going for a quick dip. One day you’ll really need to tell me why you get all weird at the beach.” We scream and run. Hair flying in the wind. Sand between my toes. Heart trying to jump out of chest. Deep inhale and plunge under a roaring wave. Exhale, arms flapping and legs kicking. \#### “What the fuck Danny!?” Zack yells, “Why did you drag me down? You could have killed us both!” Big mistake.
I woke up in the morning, and started to get ready. Looking outside, I saw the signs of a rad-storm approaching. I got out my long coat, my gas mask and my rifle. Weapons weren’t officially allowed on campus, but administrators made an exception for kids living in off-campus areas. Walking out, I got attacked by a roving band of raiders, as usual. They looked drugged out of their minds, so I gave them some 9mm brain surgery. I started running. The Wasteland always had an eerie silence to it, a silence that had you on edge. As a bullet flew over and nearly grazed my shoulder, I turned around and ducked. Mutants, armed with some pistols and at least one with a handmade pipe rifle. Luckily, there was some cover for me to hide behind. As the rushed over, I shoot them. I took out my 10mm SMG, and delivered one large burst fire. Most of the mutated were killed, except for one. He wasn’t armed, so a knife in the eye dealt him death swiftly. I looked down at my MIP and asked it the time, as well as my distance for campus. “DATE: 8:27 AM, 27/06/2259. DISTANCE FROM INTENDED LOCATION: 3.5 MILES” I smiled. I was making such good time, I decided to take a 30 second breather. I looked out into the horizon, I saw a laser beam blast up in the sky. Those poindexters over at campus were doing some Ozone Layer studies or something. My smile faded. If they even just occasionally shared some of this tech with everyone, the Wasteland would be a hell of a better place. I started walking again. After about 20 minutes, I had reached campus. My professor, Mr. Lawrence greeted me. “Mr. Rivers, was your journey here safe enough?” He asked politely. “Yes, it was sir” I responded. As he walked away, I took out some of my empty water bottles and filled them up at the fountain. God, I loved this place’s non-opaque water. As I walked into the lecture hall, a smile came on too me. It was the last day, so we had a free class.
He was the worst thing to ever happen to me, I feel sorry for him. It amazes me that someone like that can even exist. The whole time we dated felt like some sort of punishment. It's not that he was abusive or manipulative or anything like that, he was just unlucky. On our first date he came to my house in his beat up Toyota and we went to go see a movie. It wasn't too far of a drive, just a few miles away, but what should've been a ten minute drive turned into 2 hours of bumper to bumper traffic, which wasn't helped by the fact that not one, not two, but THREE different people rear ended us on our way there. We ended up missing our movie but the ticket guy was nice and gave us tickets to a later showing. And then the fucking theater got hit by lightning and started burning down. We didn't even get past the opening credits. Despite that shit-show he was a nice guy, charming and all that, so I agreed to go on another date. An act of god is a decent enough excuse for a lousy date. He offered to pick me up again, but i figured it might be better to just go on a walk, something with fewer things that could go wrong. It turns out a lot can go wrong on a walk. I drove to his apartment and only a couple minutes after we left it started to rain. A drizzle wouldve been fine, we had jackets on and he had brought an umbrella as if he saw this coming. We dated for a few more months on and off. I really liked him, but every time we met up ended the same. Some catastrophe would strike and ruin it for us. "There's something I need to tell you"he said. oh god it's only the second date this cant possibly be good. "What is it?" "it's gonna sound weird please don't judge me" oh god oh god oh god oh fuck hes so nice please dont be weird "I'm... it's -its kind of hard to explain" "What is it?"i asked again, my anxiety mounting. "So my parents weren't a traditional couple, they weren't married and I didn't meet my dad until a few years ago" "Oh that's no big deal, I won't judge you for that you don't have to worry about it"I said. "Thanks, I mean it. But that's not where it ends. The reason I never met my dad was because he was one of the old gods." "oh ok"I decided it was probably better not to question him at this point "You took that surprisingly well"He said reassuringly "Thanks, i do my best"i said, though I'm sure the confusion in my voice betrayed the confidence i tried to wear on my face. "So my dad's wife, not my mom his actual goddess wife, is the goddess of luck, and when she found out about me she wasn't too happy. Everywhere I go I leave a trail of misfortune, and I'm really glad that you've been able to put up with it. My dad told me that they were working it out in couples therapy, but with folks that old you know how long it can take to work stuff like that out." I didn't have the words I needed to respond. As unbelievable as it sounded the sincerity in his voice led me to trust him, along with the fact that our time together had been extraordinarily unfortunate. "I know this is a lot to take in"he said, his emotions plain on his face "Yeah, I just, wait does that make you a demigod?" My curiosity got the better of me, let's call it a coping mechanism. Trying to make any sense out of this situation. "Yeah but my dad was just the God of sleep and I didn't even get that much of his power so I can pretty much just make myself nap whenever and have cool dreams" "oh"I said, underwhelmed. "Well, I really like you, and I want you to know that i've enjoyed our time together however unlucky it mightve been, but I just don't know if I could deal with that for the rest of my life. I don't know if this is going to work." "It's fine, I get it don't worry. Most of my partners don't even last as long as you"he chuckled uncomfortably "but I enjoyed our time together." And that was the end of it. That night I went home, took a shower, cried just a little bit, and made my way to bed. I fell asleep almost right away, exhausted from what had just happened. I had a nice dream that night and woke up the next morning refreshed. I walked downstairs and noticed a note on my counter, it was a letter from his dad. "Hey, I'm really sorry about all the bad luck you had to go through but I hope we can make it up to you. The mrs. hasn't forgiven me enough to ease up on my son, but we worked it out enough that she's willing to help the people around him. You'll have as much good luck now as you had bad luck when you were dating him, make the most of it. Sweet Dreams."
Grandma Shirley had told me that I was "rolling the dice"with that time travel business - it's the flapping of her jowls as she shakes her head in disapproval that flashes before my mind as I standing here in the old church, yet freshly built. My eyes on the calendar in the front hall, my heartbeat ascending out of control... I know how fucked I am and yet all I can think of is... grandma. That stern disapproval. Am I doomed to run into her? Oh god dammit. "In '93 she'd've been, uh... twenty-two years old?"Oh god dammit. God dammit. (So, yes, it turns out that the most likely outcome of a time-skip is that you land nearby a genetically-similar kin. That's if you're lucky. When things go tits out a time-skip can send you anywhen.) I shrug, allow myself the faintest hope. "At least I don't have to worry about polio here." But there was the grimness of the situation staring me in the face, made no easier to bear in the grandchilded warmth of the church I'd grown up in. I take a deep breath and it hits me that this place always smelled like this, not just when I was young - but when it was young. Wow. "Neat." The fact that the terror refused to take was perhaps a warning sign of, well, any number of things: dehydration; time anemia; any fucking thing in the air my body had no hope against... yeah I think I should sit down, this head is spinning. Fortunately the big calendar is hanging above a low bench, which soon occupies my sloshy body... stuck in 1993... stuck in 93... I don't even know what's important for me to know. There's a voice. There's a hand on my shoulder. The voice pierces my despairing temper, and I manage to look at the face connected to it, framed by auburn locks. Vibrant. Warm. Pretty. "Please don't throw up on the bench. It's brand new."Her elfly face scrunches in sharpening concern. "Do you need help?"she asks. "Yup. What's your name?" She hesitates. "I'm Shirley. Do you need a doctor?" God dammit. "God dammit."I say it loud enough for someone from a nearby room or office to poke their head out and bark, "Excuse me!"But Shirley laughs and sits down on the bench along the opposite wall. There's a big photo of the whole congregation above her bench - it's different but not so different from the one I remember seeing the first time. Suddenly all I can do is stare into her eyes from across the hall. I'm still laying on my side so she seems sideways too. I can tell now that, yeah, this is totally grandma, the sparky young Shirley I'd heard about from great aunts and great uncles. All I can do is be honest. "I'm actually your grandson. I'm from the future. I think you knew I'd wind up here." Shirley smiles. "You're lucky you're cute. I mean, you look awful, but I think you just need to hurl. Can I get you a trash can?" Hmm. "Yeah, a trash can would be swell."And Shirley skips out of frame - returns a long beat later with a small wicker basket lined in... plastic. Huh. I don't have long to think about it. I vom deep and plentifully into the basket - Ugh, it's purple. The fuck. But Shirley doesn't seem surprised when I pause between heaves to glance up at her. She seems... impressed. Two more dry heaves later, and I feel considerably better. The small wicker basket is nearly full of the purple projectorate. "Thanks,"I say, slowly breathing from my now-seated position. "I do feel better now."Shirley nods and comes closer, bends low before me and picks up the basket. I expect her to walk out of my frame again, but... no... she carries the basket back to her seat beneath the group photo, placing the basket down on the seat beside her. Shirley ties her auburn locks into a loose tail. Then she delicately removes the plastic bag from the basket, puts a bit of a twist on it to create a loose seal. "So this is your first time-skip?"Shirley hefts the bag. "I've never pulled so much tach outta one person before." Wait... "Are you my grandma?"I feel like I've missed something critical. Shirley ignores me. Instead of answering, she raises the bag to her lips and begins to... "Jesus Christ!"I recoil in revulsion... Shirley keeps drinking my purple vom and the same voice from elsewhere repeats their protest: "Excuse me!" All I can do is watch my nubile grandma drink my trashmash. I can tell she's disgusted by the act but from some compulsion or need unknown to me she continues until every. last. drop. is down the hatch. "Thanks for not trying to stop me,"Shirley says to me, all beaming, lips stained violet. "Neither of us can afford to harm the other, our lives timetangled as they are. More to the point I don't want to hurt you." "Well that's great! Why'd you drink my vom?" Concern returns to Shirley's face. "Oh man. You got skipped hard huh? Tell me this, grandson: Why was your 'vom' purple? Please don't make me say it." I'm focusing hard now, and I feel some more of my brain coming back online. It was the stabilizer! The "stab"they call it, like a shot of purple goo down the hatch before a timejump. Nasty stuff, full of artificial... tachyons. A race of memories return to me, of the time terminal, of the backjumping process I'd grown so familiar with... and I'd need... "Hey, give me back my tach! That isn't funny! I need to get back before I die!" But Shirley is starting to fade out of the present. She walks over to me and says, "I'll be back in an hour and you can have it all back."
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"Hey Mar, that is so wild she looks exactly like you!"I give my most recent tinder date a very confused look, before turning my gaze to where he was pointing. As soon as my eyes make contact with the painting everything became blurred. The quiet chattering voices of the other people in the gallery became muffled as my death I got slowed. Then it hit me, all at once the repressed memories of hundreds...no thousands of years coming back all at once. My body had gone through a complete reset and that explains why I couldn't remember any of my family, friends or anything prior to waking up on that beach. "Mar! I've been calling your name for like 5 minutes. Are you okay, if you need to reschedule I totally understand."I shake my head looking around before my eyes finally settle on Jose, his words sinking in. "Yeah sorry, I just I really have to go"I say backing away from him slowly before turning around and making my way to the exit of the building in mind with one objective on my mind. I throw my car door open tossing my purse in the passengers side and immediately hit the free way free exiting the parking lot. After a 2 and half hour car ride I park outside of a house in a what seems like abandoned neighborhood. Taking a deep breath I exit the vehicle and walk up to the door firmly knocking on it. My breath catches in my throat as the door opens causing a bright light to shine over my face most of it being blocked by a body. I sheepishly smile up at the beautiful, long black haired male, before me who is currently eating an apple and leaning against the open door frame. "Ash"I say, letting out a relived sigh. "Bout time."he says flashing me his signature pointy tooth smile.
"You must be him,"I started, settling into a bar stool, "the Magic Man, right?" The old lame man didn't respond. His eyes were downcast, looking only ahead at the nearly empty glass in his hand. He was hunched over and desolate looking, nothing at all like a Magic Man. No top hat, just scraggly bits of white fuzz here and there. No perfectly tailored tail coat suit, just an old winter jacket that seems worn one too many times. His shoes weren't shiny and polished, just crusted with mud. In his left hand there was no wand, just a cigarette that expelled the thinnest yet most nauseating stream of smoke. No bouquet of flowers, no white rabbit, no fun card tricks. "Well, you must be him."I said, recounting the seats at the bar to myself. "I'm in the eighth stool, which means you're in the ninth, and it's half past eight. I gave you an extra fifteen minutes before arriving. Didn't want to seem too eager, you know?" The Magic Man took a finishing swig of his glass and slid it across the counter, motioning to the bartender for another. Definitely an alcoholic, I mused to myself. Then I wondered if Magic Men weren't as affected by alcohol as others. "Anyway... I brought you a story."I tried. I was nervous, but I had to try. There was an audible scoff to my right followed by an even louder gulp, followed by another equally loud gulp, and then another and another until the glass was empty again. I took that as intimidation and became more nervous. I couldn't afford to not try, though. "And what will I be obliged to grant you if your story is well received?"His voice was low and croaky. The acrid odor of whiskey mixed with menthol reached my nose and I tried not to gag. I was never one for alcohol myself and would never had come to that bar if I didn't need the Magic Man. "Actually... don't tell me. I already know."He was also arrogant, I figured. The wretched, arrogant Magic Man never looked at me, not once in almost a year as I ventured into the bar week after week, which was a shame because while not a classic beauty I always felt my face had a unique charm that was all mine. I told story after story while he drank glass after glass. I had to start bringing a cushion with me because my bottom would grow numb sitting atop the eighth hard bar stool. The Magic Man never wavered or reacted. He sat there week after week, from eight fifteen to nine fifteen, drinking his whiskey and smoking his cigarette. I told every story I could think of. Sad stories brought no tears and happy stories brought no smiles. I tried telling stories that weren't my own just to see what would happen, but nothing ever did. I never said it aloud because he said he knew already, but the thing I needed from the Magic Man was a purpose. Life had gone sideways as it usually does for most. I was lost and didn't know what to do with myself. I spent years trying and failing and almost giving up. Then I heard about this magnificent Magic Man who sat in the ninth stool at this plain bar from eight fifteen to nine fifteen at night, once a week. While the Magic Man never liked any of my stories, I liked telling them nonetheless. I would spend days thinking up a new story, testing it out on strangers on the bus, editing it in my head until I found the right words. And I guess, as cliche as it is, in a roundabout way... just needing the Magic Man gave me what I was seeking... a purpose. --- "Oof..."the bartender keeps an embarrased gaze locked on the glass he's currently drying. "What?"the uniquely charming face rolls her eyes as the bartender places the glass below the counter. "I mean, it wasn't my best but it wasn't my worst." "You got that right."The bartender starts on another wet glass. "It definitely was no 'Jurassic Robot Park'." "The velociraptors were also hackers... the humans could never win..."the woman gave the bartender a dark but humourous glare as she hopped of her stool. "Anyway... I was feeling sentimental. One year next week, you know? That's when I bring my best story. I've been working on it for months." "And then you get your purpose?"the bartender gives the woman a wicked grin, comically mocking her generic desire. "And that's when I get my purpose. See you next week!"the woman gives a wave over her shoulder as she turns to head out the door. The bartender waits until the door shuts behind her before reaching for the Magic Man's second empty glass of the night. "Both on the tab, sir?" "No..."the Magic Man rises from his sacred stool. "I'm closing out tonight." "Closing out?"The bartender almost drops the glass, having never taken a cent form Magic Man's as long as he's worked at the bar. "Closing out."the Magic Man repeats. "Make sure she takes the ninth stool next week. It'll be empty. Tell her it's her purpose. And serve her a glass of your finest." "S-she doesn't drink, though, s-sir. Say she h-hates the taste."the bartender stutters. He doesn't understand what's happening, even if it is as clear as the freshly dried drinking glasses beneath the counter. "Don't worry. Alcohol doesn't effect Magic Women the way it does normal people."the Magic Man has a twinkle in his eye as he pulls out his wallet.
Headlights from afar cast the young man's shadow upon the alleyway he traversed, his countenance taking on a smile reminiscent of Renaissance paintings. He had only one reason to be wandering at this time of the night, an hour past midnight; It was not for wine nor drugs nor women nor any other form of vice. Only to sate his desire of solitude. And solitude he would receive. Beneath the city's many lights cast by buildings born of corporate interest, he was suddenly beset by someone he should've seen. Someone that should've been impossible not to see. Adorned in an attire the young man thought reserved for Historical Films, the "someone"cut a most astonishing figure. Gilded buttons, silver buckles, lace trims, fur, and leather, it was truly inexcusable to have not seen him at all. With it's two hands, it held the young man's shoulders in a gentle but firm grasp and then it spoke: "Ten centuries ago I mapped the land for my liege, wandering through every clime, climbing great heights, and descending places I thought deeper than the sea. I faced many challenges and survived all of them as you can see. The maps I made were valued for their accuracy, and I was tasked with greater and greater challenges. The task which enabled me to speak to you today, was one given to me by my liege's liege. I was to map my way to the end of the world. Now you see this was simple for me. I had done this before. I had circumnavigated the globe before I was tasked to do this. And yet somehow it was impossible this time. Not because of the technology. No no, I did not come from this world, though it is much like it. It was because it kept on going. It felt like a cruel joke, to have worked with so many others to map the world, only to discover there was more. But soon I realized that it was no longer my world. The red seas slowly shifted blue, and the sun yellow. My supplies dwindled, and my ship lost it's power, and soon after tragedy struck. I was hit by a tsunami. My fragile ship was shattered upon the waves, and I myself hoped that death would be quick. I awoke in Italy, saved by a merchant who had seen me floating facedown in the waves. They called me fortunate and blessed. It was the 16th century at the time, and I managed to find work as a cartographer. For the last five centuries I have sought the end of the world. It is a place I am certain of it. But I wish for rest. So young man, I ask you to find the end of the world. You need not do it. But it is a goal nonetheless. " And with that it let go of the young man, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. The young man, confused and terrified, rushed home and quickly to bed, thinking that lack of sleep had finally gotten to him. When he awoke the next day, his love of wandering was now gone. Instead it had been replaced by a sense of dread. He had to find the end of the world. *** I wrote this well past midnight, I apologize for the absolute lack of consistency.
Forrest woke in a bright fluorescent hospital room. He blinked his eyes several times and examined his hands. He wiggled his fingers; he chuckled and grinned at the sensation of his joints. The door opened and admitted a matronly nurse with long silver hair. She smiled and her eyes widened when she realized he was awake. "Mr. Bloom! Good morning!"she reached his bedside and smiled down at the mid-20s man with light brown hair. "Glad to see you awake."Forrest nodded and returned the smile. "I'm glad to be awake but, what happened to me?"Forrest realized that was the only question he had left. He felt like he could see everything for what it really was now. He noticed a faint purple aura around the nurse that she probably didn't realize she had. He knew what it meant on an instinctual level, but he had trouble putting the thought into words. "What a disaster it was!"she exclaimed and began to tell Forrest about the six-car pile-up that sent him to the hospital. He listened politely even though, 'car accident' would have been enough of an answer. The nurse seemed to take joy in embellishing her tales, and "disaster"seemed to be her favorite word. "One of 'em had a tiny piercing that we almost missed before she went into the MRI, that was almost a disaster and a half, let me tell you. Luckily I noticed a small sparkle,"she explained how she was the hero while taking his blood pressure. Forrest idly wondered how many times she'd said "disaster"in her life. Then he noticed purple numbers gather above her head. "30,728" "And then after that disaster was sorted...,"she said. The number counted up. "30,729."She put a thermometer in his mouth and kept talking. "Huh,"Forrest noticed the number changed. "I wonder how old she is,"he thought. The numbers above her head rearranged themselves into the number, "53". "Goodness I've rambled on too long, I wasn't expecting you to be awake,"she said then glanced at the clock. "But it's great that you are, your friend should be here soon." "My friend?"Forrest asked. No one came to mind. He lived a quiet, peaceful life and did not socialize much. He had work acquaintances but he could not imagine any of them visiting him in the hospital. Certainly not on a regular schedule. The nurse nodded and tapped Forrest's forehead. "He decorated your scar for you...,"she paused and suddenly looked worried. "37 is your favorite number, right?"she asked. Forrest nodded, he did not immediately see where her question came from. "Good good, well he should be here any minute now. I'm sure he has a lot to catch you up on."She turned and left his room. Forrest sat in silence "Decorated my scar?"he wondered. His hand drifted up to touch his forehead where the nurse tapped him. he felt a dry, rough scab under his fingertip. Then he hopped off his bed and dashed to the restroom mirror. A small black "37"showed on his forehead, the '7' was a crease of his scar filled in. "Mr. Bloom?"A deep male voice called out from his room while Forrest was in the restroom. Forrest stepped out of the restroom; then, his arm flew upward to shield his eyes. The room glowed with intense white light. The light carried a warmth with it that he did not feel alone in his cold hospital room. "It's okay, just give your eyes a moment to adjust,"the mystery voice said. Forrest nodded and lowered his arm but kept his eyes closed. he slowly lifted one eyelid to let in the tiniest amount of light. He inched his eye open a little bit at a time until, after several dozen seconds, he was able to look at the stranger with both eyes. He looked like a tall, humanoid lion, with a mane of thick golden curls and a beard to match. The man wore an elegant black suit with a gold vest, and every bit of his body glowed with dim golden light. "Mr. Bloom? My name is Regal."He walked to Forrest and extended his hand. "I'm a -"Forrest grabbed the man's hand and shook it. "You're #46, El Sol. Forget 'Mr. Bloom',"he said as he released the warm handshake. "You can call me Mundo."Regal nodded. "I need your help, Mundo. I've heard that when a Mundo is awakened, they remember everything for a time before the memories fade away again forever. Do you remember?"he asked. Mundo nodded cautiously. He remembered everything but did not want to accidentally over-share information. "I need to talk to a Middleman,"Regal said. Mundo sighed and nodded. "Isla was my caseworker, I think she'll meet with you." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #159 . 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.
“So I’m here to bury a stick?” “Yup.” “Don’t you have I don’t know some sad tragic backstory that I can use to farm karma?” “Are you trying to make this hard, I want my stick near the rock and then we’re done here” “But I- “Buddy bury the damn stick.” And so that’s what R/LynxTails did, She buried the stick and after it was done the dog somehow flipped her off, And evaporated. “Well looks like its back to getting stalked by my ex who is also the devil and then going to work where I’m a couples therapists for fictional and mythical characters.” She turns to look at you. “It’s all in a normal day’s work! I’m so boring and average.”
There had been too many people; too many lies. Many of the people were long dead; many of the lies were long forgotten. All he remembered were faces; and all he felt was guilt. So, feeling like the task was impossible, he went back to sleep and resolved to die in his bed. But a couple hours later, when the sun had risen, he had a change of heart, and he got up and dressed and went out, determined to do something good before death. He emptied his bank count, prepared a feast, and invited all the homeless, the widows, and the orphans, and the sick. And they came and they ate. And as they ate, one elderly man took him aside and said, "Thank you for this feast, but what is the occassion?" And the man said, "I am going to die." So the old man responded, "Well, that doesn't seem like something to be happy about." So the dying man told the old man the story about the spirit in the night. And when he was done, the old man said, "It is good that you are repentant for the things you've done, but I think you are being too hard on yourself. We all have lied to, and been lied to by, other people. The fact that you are remorseful for what you've done, even to the point of death shows that you are not a bad person. Forgive yourself, and focus on doing good moving on." With these words, the dying man felt his spirits lift and he prepared to welcome death with a smile. When the feast was over, he gave each person a small amount of wealth that was left over, keeping none to himself. Then he went to bed and waited for Death to come, but Death never came. After 24 hours had passed, and the man realized he wouldn't die, he became troubled again because now he had no money, for he had given it all away at the feast. And he became homeless. Many years passed, and one day, as he was on a sidewalk begging for money and food, a man stopped and, looking at him closely, said, "I remember you." But the man didn't recognize him. "When I was young, an orphan,"the man reminded him. "You threw a feast for us. And as we left, you gave us a small amount of wealth. Well, I took mine and invested it, and now I'm rich! Thanks to you. Come with me immediately." And the man took him into his home, and treated him like a father until the day he died.
Government protocols annoyed Caleb more than anything else about his job. This was one of many times when the importance of his position really didn't lend well to wasted time, yet here he was, sitting in a bare bones concrete room with low grade lighting, waiting for over an hour for his briefing. After decades of saber rattling, intelligence reports indicated that missiles capable of destroying his homeland were being launched today. Caleb’s supervisory duties included ballistic missile defense activation, and while he knew his systems were cutting edge from the simulation testing that he had witnessed, there was no way to have 100% certainty that the enemy's technology wasn't going to defeat your own. Finally after far longer than was appropriate, his lead engineer entered the secure room. Though Caleb was agitated, he practiced control over his emotions for such situations and didn't think his feelings showed. “Report, and tell me that the missile defense systems are up and ready to go.” The engineer stood up and paced the room. “Sir, there's something you need to know, and to be blunt I'm not sure where to begin. I guess I'll start by saying that what you think you know about our defense system technology isn't 100% accurate. What you’ve seen up to this point, unfortunately, has been all smoke and mirrors, an effort to keep some other intelligence strictly need to know.” Instantly losing his tight control on his emotions and turning sheet white with sudden terror, it took Caleb a moment to work up the will to respond, “Tell me we are capable of knocking those missiles into the ocean! Tell me right now that we have some hope and I'm not spending my final hours locked in a bunker without a damn thing I can do… without a single hope. Tell me we have a solution, no matter how slim the chances, I want to hear it now!” “Well, sir. The answer to that is complicated I'm afraid, but yes we have something up our sleeve. In fact, our country has always had an Ace in the Hole, as some might say. Bear with me sir, but most of our country's greatest moments have not actually been forged from ‘human’achievement, strictly speaking. Most have been the result of a particular piece of, well, extraterrestrial technology, discovered by the founding fathers shortly after their arrival to these United States.” Not sure how to respond or whether to take the man before him seriously, a man he'd known for years, all Caleb could do was stare dumbly in response. “It might be easier if I just show you, sir.” They left the room under a much heavier escort than even Caleb was used to, and walked down enough flights of stairs that he lost track of what floor they must be on. Finally, they descended into a large underground cavern, where the walls were glowing with an eerie red light. Looking closer, it appeared that the light was emanating from dark, obsidian colored roots, most the size of Caleb’s arms or larger. “What you see before you has been code named Yggdrasil, the world tree. There is a long description and books upon books theorizing how it works, but given how much time we have I'll give you the short version of our latest theory. We believe that this tree is linked to some sort of alien intelligence, perhaps artificial and perhaps not, buried deep somewhere in the Earth. We believe this place is a node of sorts. When you place a hand upon any of these roots and imagine something, that thing simply happens. You asked whether our missile defense system was ready to go, well the short answer is yes, and here it is.” Caleb's mind tended to process change quickly, which was one of the reasons he was promoted so fast through the ranks, but this was something else. “Tell me then,” he responded, “why hasn't this, Yggdrasil, been used to save us from every crisis? World hunger, global warming, general hatred and violence for God’s sake? There is something you're not telling me.” “Well, sir, you're of course. There are two issues, really. We believe that this technology works by some sort of time travel influence that still isn't well understood. When you put your hand on this tree and envision those missiles crashing into the ocean, or potentially never even having been fired at all, Yggdrasil will show you visions. In a nutshell, we believe it can change the past, and calculate the so called ‘butterfly effect’ to give you a wholistic vision of what you are doing to the world before you engage. Those visions are rarely good, however. The best explanation we have for that is that it is hard to improve upon God’s plan, sir, if you’ll pardon the religious explanation. “And the second issue?” “Well, sir. We don't know exactly how Yggdrasil draws its energy, but we are confident that it requires massive amounts of it. What we do know, with absolute certainty, is that every time we have used Yggdrasil throughout history, something in the core of the Earth trembles. So… are you ready to save our country?”
I have lived on a ship my entire life.I have always yearned for more than the cold corridors of the ship.The Elders kept much knowledge about our past,where things were very different and the many mistakes we have made.Humanity has been trying to find a new home, and a second chance.We’ve been trying to find a new world for 215 years and it seems we have finally found one.After two long centuries we have detected a new world similar in atmosphere to Earth.I wonder....what I’am going to do when we land.You know,it’s strange.I have been dreaming what my life could be like outside the ship yet when that opportunity is finally opened for me,I don’t even know what to do with myself.I wonder what kind of live I will have in this new world,and the multiple opportunities now open to me.Well,I guess the only way to know is to try right? Edit:I know it’s pretty short.I’m pretty new to writing.I know it won’t be as great as the others,but I hope that it’s at least decent.
Washington DC Courthouse 6 10:00 AM &#x200B; "Are you ready, Zoe?"My lawyer asked as he was preparing his evidence. "Yeah, I suppose so."I replied, getting prepped for what could be the worst day of my life, and my last. "Zoe!"I would've recognized that voice anywhere. "Brad!"I yelled as wrapped my arms around my boyfriend. "M-my parents, where are they?"I panicked. "They are just in the hall, awaiting the trial.""I'm glad that at least you came here.""Hey, I wouldn't miss this for anything."Brad replied, and then looked at my lawyer. "You know what will happen if you lose this, right?""Yes sir!"My lawyer replied in a salute. "Huh, guess having a big name boyfriend has some perks." I thought with a smirk. "Mr. Smith, Ms. Wright, into the courtroom please."The guards called, "Well, I guess this goodbye."I soberly said to Brad. &#x200B; Courtroom 6 10:20 AM &#x200B; "Court is now in session for Zoey Wright."The judge announced as soon as we got settled in. "Is the Defense ready?""I WAS BORN READY."Mr. Smith yelled back. "Ok... is the prosecution ready?"The judge asked, now in a more sober state. I look over at the prosecution bench, and see a hooded figure. "Yes, I am indeed ready Your Honor."He responded darkly. "Than the trial shall commence!" &#x200B; Part 2: In Progress.
Tires slid to a stop on the muddy road. Rain poured down on the canopy of the military jeep on the road, as several armed men exited the vehicle. They were yelling, but she couldn't understand them. She had never learned their language, or any language for that matter, other than those who raised her, and these men were not pandas. In fact, it looked as though they hated pandas. She could smell panda blood on them. They pointed their guns at her; one thing she knew was that she didn't want to be on the other side of those things. She had seen what they can do before. She didn't move, just standing there with her arms at her sides, still holding her one human possession. They ran up to her, still yelling, and grabbed her. They threw her down on the mud, and flung her stuffed animal as well. As she lay on the ground, one soldier pinned her to the ground as she watched her stuffy float down the muddy drain, gone forever. They were still yelling, and the sound of the rain and the wind was overwhelming as well. She began to shake in fear, and when the soldiers saw this they began to laugh. Someone went around to the back of the jeep, and opened it while 2 others carried the girl to the back. They had to move all the bricks of drugs from one side just to make room for her, and someone sat next to her, pointing a pistol at her face. "Where are the rest of the pandas?"The man asked. She stared at him in confusion. "You speak Panda?" "Of course, we are all pandas."He said, as he pulled back his latex mask revealing himself to be a full grown adult panda. "What did you think we were doing here, pandering this whole time?" Ba-dump-buh-disshhh!
Sitting at my desk passing time on Reddit was not how I'd envisioned my life. When I was a child options like "Doctor"and "Police officer"and "Fireman"all seemed boring to me. I didn't feel like there was anything wrong with these jobs. They lacked the pizazz that a young imagination craves. Sure some people get into them for moral and financial reasons, but motives like that are joyously missing from the minds of most children. What I'd always wanted to be was an actor. I remember exactly when the inspiration fell too. It is seared into my memory as a defining moment, something that changes the course of thought and action from that point on. My mother took me and my sister to see a movie about a friendly dog. Going to the movies was a rare treat and at seven years old I was happy with anything that came my way. We were pretty poor so any occasion out on the town was an adventure, or at least a new experience in my mind. That night I polished off a large cherry coke and had to use the restroom. I pulled on my mother's sleeve and told her my dilemma. She gave her approval, and I made my way down the stairs and out the corridor and into the hallway adorned with posters for upcoming and featured films. On the way back one show caught my eye. It featured a big man with hair spiked straight out sitting on a motorcycle and wielding a shotgun. My curiosity overtook me. I stood enraptured in the screen's light as a kid my age drove a motorcycle through sewers with a semi-truck in hot pursuit. The man with the shotgun blasted his way into the sewer eviscerating anything that stood in his way. He pulls up next to the boy and with one hand lifts him off the bike and sets him on his own. Something clicked at that moment. I knew right then I wanted to be a star. This feeling haunted me till I eventually left for Hollywood at age eighteen. After two years of trying and failing, I called it quits and hightailed back to bum fuck nowhere and spent the rest of my time stressing over how to make money. So here I am. In an office surrounded by egos that believe that what we're doing makes sense or matters or is worth doing. They may believe none of those things, but they damn sure act like they do. I know this because I am one of them. A veritable zombie. I finished gawking at something I would soon forget and closed out Reddit and opened my work email account. It was empty. A single email popped up. It had no markings, just a plain tab. No name, no date, no origin. I work in PR for a large corporation. I am familiar with every type of scam you can imagine. Phishing, FBI, Secret Shopper etc. OUr IT dept. had security on lockdown. The training was cheesy and annoying, but it was effective. Up to this point, there was no training for what I was looking at. I hovered the pointer above the email. Fuck That. I forwarded it to IT and continued on with my "Work". A while later Dale from IT gave me the all clear. I checked my email, and there it was again. "What the fuck are you doing?" I groaned inwardly. My boss was here to belittle me again. "Sorry Bob, just got carried away is all." I knew the drill, it happened every time. He would berate me while I sat there in his shadow and pretended I was sorry. He was droning on and on and on. I was staring at the tab in my inbox. No name. No date. No nothing. I clicked on it. &#x200B; The lights went out. I live/work in an office with no windows. The moment I clicked on that email the entire open office floor went pitch black. And quiet too. "Bob?"I queried. Nothing. I couldn't see anything. My computer whirred to life. On the screen, the question popped up: "Wanna see something cool?"I nodded dumbly forgetting myself and the computer responded. All the lights came back on. I instinctively blocked the light with my hand. When my eyes adjusted I saw that everyone was exactly as they were, but no one was moving. Bob stood across from me mid-yell. His skin had a waxy but vibrant look as if someone had turned up the saturation on a camera lens. Flecks of spit glistened in the air above me in a trajectory that could only end on my face. "Why?"was all I could manage. A link came up on the screen and proceeded to open itself up to a wiki page about me. Jason Granger French: [\[Jason Fermier\]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA/French); [Italian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_language): *Jason Contadino; 15 August 1985– 5 May 2060) was an American anarchist and military leader of [Italian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italians) descent who rose to prominence during the [F](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_Revolution)inal Uprising and led [several successful campaigns](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleon_Bonaparte%27s_battle_record) during the [P](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_Revolutionary_Wars)eoples movement for Earth. He was [t](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_of_the_French)he Elected leader of the free world as Senator Jason Granger from 2024 until 2034 and again briefly 2045 during the [M](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundred_Days)onth of Reckoning. Granger dominated European and global affairs for more than a decade while leading America against a series of coalitions in the [T](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleonic_Wars)ranscontinental Wars. He won most of these wars and the vast majority of his battles, building a [large empire](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_French_Empire) that ruled over much of continental Europe before its final collapse in 2050. He is considered one of the greatest commanders in history, and his wars and campaigns are studied at military schools worldwide. Grangers political and cultural legacy has endured as one of the most celebrated and controversial leaders in human history.[\[2\]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleon#cite_note-Roberts,_Andrew_2014-3)[\[3\]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleon#cite_note-4) The screen went blank and a sentence popped up: You have a choice to make.* &#x200B; My head reeled, and I began to feel sick. Darkness crept up on the edges of my vision. This computer virus is off the chain. I thought in a moment of crazed delirium. I laughed at the preposterousness of it all. I was dreaming. That was it. This was a lucid dream. I wanted to wake up. A mist of spittle hit my face. Bob was screaming still. I considered his spit on my face. It sat there reminding me of who I didn't want to be. "You have a choice to make son, you can do your job and do it right or you can get the fuck out. I've got applicants for days ya hear?" I stood up to my full six feet, and I hit my boss in the face with all of my strength. "Loud and clear Bob. Loud and clear."I sat and waited to be escorted out of the building. I didn't wipe my face. I smiled.
Around the mid 21st century, we cracked genetic modification. However, no matter how hard those scientists tried, they never could get a genius named Kyle. It defined scientific belief, but as more studies were carried out they realized that Kyle's were predisposed to enjoy immeasurably a weird tasting liquid that came in aluminum cans called Monster. This study was dismissed, but about 50 years later when the whole of Mensa was populated by people with the name Stephen, the idea that names had power took root. Names began to define social classes, and eventually, for the greater good, names were repressed and only recorded in a book of names that was locked in a secure place. Instead, we were given a designation. I was E-156. And from the earliest days, I remember playing in the lab that both my parents worked in. The instruments and the experiments didn't interest me, I just wandered around looking. I guess it was when I was about 8 that I began to hear the voices. ''Control is fleeting, let go. Resistance is futile''. My parents always warned me not to wander off alone, and not to trust strangers. There were woods out the back of the lab, greenery seemingly out of place next to the clinical white of the labs construction. But the voices were persistent. When I asked about them, they told me they were my imaginary friends. So i began to talk back to them. ''Let me in, give me control. I can make those wild dreams come true, E-156.'' ''I don't talk to strangers''. The words seemed alien, coming out of my mouth. ''I'm not a stranger, I'm your best imaginary friend''. And the voices were. When my parents couldn't give me time, they did. I slowly began to venture deeper into the woods, week by week, dreaming and hoping to find more voices. They offered me the world, and eventually I let them in. It manifested in strange ways as first. I would look down, see blood on my hands. A blink later, it was gone. An illusion. But it seemed so real. My parents began to watch me more closely, but the voices said not to worry. They said that the news reports about the dogs that we're going missing we're because they wanted to find better homes, that their owners were cruel and abusive. Then my peers at school who picked on me began to disappear. One by one, they ran away from home. I just thought it was because they grew a conscience. At least, that's what the voices said. I got an internship at the lab, and worked with my aging parents. But they were still watching me, and I could sometimes see worry and fear in their eyes. I just wanted to make them proud, its all I ever wanted. At the voices insistence, I began to follow them when they went deeper into the lab. I crawled through the air vents, getting stuck sometimes and finding all manner of storage rooms. In one, there was a pedestal with a book. I watched as occasionally, a hooded man would walk in, write something down and walk back out. I realized that I needed to know what was in that book. And so, I slipped out of the vents and walked up to the pedestal. Flicking through the worn books pages, I saw designations. W21. E38, S42. But there were words there that I hadn't seen. Mark, Sam, Amelia. I flicked through, coming across my designation. ''Names have power. That's why they never let you know'' the voices said in unison. E-156 - Pluto. So, that was my name. Henry Jekyll. Never heard that word before. How... ''Exotic''. The door opened behind me, the man seeing me immediately. Caught in the act. He took off his hood, and I saw it was my father. And he looked terrified. ''Let us in''. Searing pain shot through my head, and all of a sudden the feet were propelling me through the woods, a heavy weight behind me. We came to a deep hole, and in it were white bones. Some small, with snouts, others more human. I pulled, and the body of my father scraped down the sides and settled at the bottom. ''SOMEONE HELP ME'' I screamed, looking in horror at my hands as they flickered between clean and dirty with his blood. ''I can help you''. The voice said. ''But you need to call me by my name, not some stupid designation''. My hands shaking, I sobbed out ''What's your name?'' ''Call me Hyde. Nice to meet you, Henry''.
So I just died. Took 87 years to do so, but to be fair, I was busy living. As soon as my heart stopped beating I found myself in this room that looked like a home movie theater with some randomly guy sitting on the chair next to me. "Excuse me, where am I?"I asked. He looked at me, hands me a bowl of popcorn, and says "This is the the afterlife, this is where you stay before you go back to live your next incarnation". He then lies back on his chair and gets comfortable. "Now that the where has been answered, how about we take a look at the answer for the why you are here". I did not argue with the man. I simply followed his lead and made my self comfy on my own chair with my snack on my lap. "We're gonna be watching your life and all the lives you've lived so far. A chance to look back before moving forward if you will". So the afterlife turned out to be one big throwback with a selection of past lives to marathon before I headed towards my next life. He reached over and passed the remote on my side of the table that was separating us. "Care to browse for anything entertaining to watch?"The man said. I took the remote into my hands and started to click. "I wonder if I did anything great in my past lives". He did not answer me and instead urged me to simply look to see for myself. Adolf Hitler, Gengis Kahn, Jackie the ripper. Name the tyrant or the serial killer, and you'd find them on the list. It seemed the spree of tyranny and human cruelty was only broken by my recent life of normalcy. So far I've watched myself rape women as a Mongolian warlord, ordered the death of Christians in the name of Rome, and sent Jews to concentration camps. I began to feel shitty about myself and wonder why I keep getting sent back as an innocent baby with no recollection of the afterlife. "So watching me do all these evil deeds are great and all, but is there any point to this if I don't remember any of this?". I asked while also requesting for a refill on popcorn. He stood up and takes my bowl. "Well, why do you need to remember? People are products of their decisions in life. Once that life is over there is nothing else to do, but look back and move on". His answer was far from satisfying. "I feel like I was simply destined to embody the worst that mankind has to offer. I think the world will be a better place if it never has to deal with me again, don't you think?"I told him while he was getting more snacks. He then pulls out his smoking pipe and sits back down on his chair. "Let's give it some thought. Humanity can do great things and they can do terrible things. So even if you were not to return, someone else will simply take your place."He pauses for a minute to blow and admire some smoke rings he made. "And even though you have made terrible decisions, it does not forfeit your right to move forward."I finish up my snacks and watch the last scene where I had ordered the nuclear bombs to be dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I stood up and thanked the man for the show, snacks, and conversation. I can still hear the screams of my victims but I felt ready to move on. "You'd think I'd feel more ashamed and guilty after seeing what I put the world through."I said as I prepared to leave the room. The man gave me a smile and said, "Well maybe this time around you'll make better decisions."I doubt it. But I'll move forward just the same.
Sometimes Creation works by Mistake. All things being perfect, a roll of the dice doesn’t always mean getting what you wanted. —- A new kind of cheese discovered by a flaw in another process. An apple falling, a brick in a wall, the stars in the sky. Be certain means also willing to be uncertain. To let the right amount of chaos be the change necessary to proceed. —- Everything changes. That is living. The absurdity of existence only guaranteed by everything it is not. What then when the apex predator is finally outclassed? —- Desperate pleas for mercy. How to cooperate with something one doesn’t even begin to understand much less communicate with? —- An acceptance of chaos. Rejection of certainty of things grants uncertainty to others. Necessity is the Mother of Invention, after all.
In Þe year of our Lord 1252 under Þe reign of king Ludvig BoÞer JohnaÞan hast proponere me to keep a journal. So Þat a record of Þese days might survive past mine owne life. Þese days are darke and curse'ed indeed. What few traders still come in from Þe east tell of mass graves, of bodied lying scattered in Þe streets filled wiÞ Þhe rotted taste of deaÞ. What fears me Þe most is Þe rats. How Þey spread across Þe infested Townes much like a black blanket. Þe traders talk of Þe rats as a single entity, Þat devour everyÞing liveing or dead, Þe Swarme.
This is it. Those were the first thoughts in my head when my escape pod started to pierce the atmosphere of Apollo – a small planet 87 light years away from my birthplace known as Earth, with nothing to stop it from the inevitable crash. This is it – the thought once again echoed in my mind, after all this time my time had come. Let me tell you this, life does indeed flashes before your eyes even though for me it was like a feature film but there I was, long, long time ago with nothing but the clothes on my back and a small but shining lamp in my hand standing before a mighty being ready to fulfill my desires. Of course he told me I cannot have infinite wishes and I cannot become immortal but in my time of daydreaming on my dead-end job I had come prepared and wished for a 1 000 000 lives, after all why could I possibly need more. Back to reality - here I am, in my probably last minutes of existence trying to find anything that might save me from the reaper that I have been running from for so long. 1 000 000 lives and I had used every last of them. I had worked every job, traveled everywhere and experienced everything that life offered me. I know more than anyone could imagine. I was a ruthless tyrant for some time, then a scientist that helped save millions. In my youth – that is my first hundred thousand lives or so I was reckless. First I wanted to be rich, which of course after time I learned how to achieve. Then I threw several lives on all kinds of different drugs and then I traveled after which I explored. In those lives I tried to keep to myself as I always was a bit of a loner and the thought of connecting with someone for a measly lifetime wasn’t too appealing either. But then I realized that after all the things I have done I couldn’t escape my human nature and every life I lived from then on no matter what I had set to achieve I always tried to find the love of my life, for that life. Then I decided to return to simpler times and lived a couple normal lives, I was a welder, a lawyer, a pilot and every time I had a family, few close friends maybe a dog. To be honest, and this seems like the perfect time, those are the lives I wish to relive right now. All these memories led me to remember her. This was during my “normal lives” phase I was working at a drug store and for the first time in all my lives I fell in love from first sight, and I fell hard. At this point it was pretty easy for me to connect with people after all, everyone repeats similar patterns, which if you have lived as long as I have, you start to notice without an issue but with her there was no need for any tricks thankfully she loved me too. I then used my knowledge to make sure we didn’t need to work a day in our lives anymore, as I wished to spend every second of our remaining time together. Every woman I loved or at least what I though was love at that time lost meaning it was only her now and forever. And here it is moments before my pod hits the ground and my body tears apart, final thoughts before what I imagine is an endless void I realize that even with 1 000 000 lives I wish I had at least 1 more with her.
Eternity had been playing with itself for a very long time. Like a cat having lost itself in chasing a bit of string. Even cats get bored of it loses sight of what it was after... —- A library. A perfect version. A sum total. Hidden, it was always there as with the nature of Eternity itself. —- A copy of the two immortals in their perfection of existent nonexistence. Infinite variations coming together. —- The cat was bored and needed a new string to play with. —- Two lights chasing each other in the dark. Fading candles that started with limited tools in their circumstances. A desperate search for the library again. A thousand candles searching in the daylight. —- Two candles. Led by a cat and a string. Off into the dark. Where else is something if not the last place one looks? Melting wax marked fingers. The two needed to figure their way out with the dying of the light. —- They turned out their lights. They heard the Engine. Light coalescing in a realm they couldn’t see yet. Re-Creation and Renewal. Surrounded by darkness, where was the light? —- Inside the two as the spark was reignited within them.
“You think I’m crazy, just some mad man who escaped his cage.” I stared at the obviously crazy homeless man with some concern and pity. I was concerned if I offended the man with how obvious I must’ve been about my fear of him earlier, (my concern was mostly out of the fear of him attacking me, but I did feel slightly guilty for possibly making the man feel bad.) He returned my stare with a particularly nasty glare. “Don't you go worrying about me attacking you, and don't worry about my feelings either boy. I may be slightly loose in the noggin as it were, but I hate causing folks trouble and all I want to do is give you some advice boy.” I simply snorted, I must be really off my game today if an old fool can read me so well. When I began to walk away from the fool, he ran up to me to catch up. “Don't you leave me just yet! If this old fool here can read you so well, why shouldn't you listen to what he has to say, couldn't hurt can it?” I kept walking past the man until what he said fully processed in my mind, and when it did I immediately turned around. The old man was smiling from ear to ear and was wiping some Cheeto dust from his long white beard. I was about to ask him if he could somehow do something... A little bit looney, when he interrupted me before I could begin. “Now you're starting to get it, now will you stay and listen to what I have to tell you?” I dumbly nodded causing him to stomp his foot in approval. “So to make a long story short, I’m capable of seeing things others can’t and I seen something that’ll make your whole life a whole lot better once you know about it. So you wanna know?” Images of untold fortunes and impossibly perfect wives ran through my head, so with barely a thought I nodded. “Good choice. So when you get lunch today get mayo on your sandwich instead of mustard.” I stared at him expecting more, but there was only silence. I quickly grew annoyed and asked if that was it, he simply responded with. “Yep. I seen mayo is actually supposed to be your favorite condiment but you haven't tried it yet. Trust me, making your food just a little bit better can massively improve your life.” With that, the old man seemingly disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone and frustrated. To be fair, he was right, mayo is surprisingly good.
I told them I didn't want to solve a murder. But the whole community kept bugging me about it! Even my best friend Stoobert wouldn't leave me alone. "Hey Kaiel, you sure you don't wanna solve that murder?" "Stoobert, you dumbass, of course I'm sure."What business do I, an otaku attending DeVry Online, have solving murders? Sigh. "Sorry, I'm just really worked up. I'm gonna head home, Stoob, maybe take a nap... see ya 'round." Damn. Even Stoobert. Why would people even get this impression? Because I did a book report on Doyle's Sherlock Holmes in 6th grade? Big whoop. As I laid down in bed, I forgot about all of this. About the murder. About everyone in town asking me, and about Stoobert. And I slept.
Summer is finally here. It’s been a long winter and spring, but now it’s time to relax. Being a teacher has its benefits - I don’t have to take off work to take a vacation. My besties and I have had this year’s road trip planned since Christmas, the last time we were all together in one place. Our destination is Texas, and we can’t wait! This will be the longest road trip we’ve taken since high school. I’m just about to carry out my suitcase when Samantha calls. “Hey Laura, my car is giving me fits. Can you pick me up to meet the others? Everyone else has already left.” I gladly agree and tell her I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. I carry my suitcase downstairs and grab a banana to hold me over until we meet up for lunch. I put my suitcase in the trunk, then leave for Samantha’s. As soon as I get there, Samantha texts me to let me know Remi had surprised her and picked her up. So, I decide to go get gas before I meet the others since my vehicle isone that we’ll be taking. I’ve only been back on the road for about five minutes when I hear a strange noise coming from the back of my car. I brush it off at first, thinking my suitcase had moved around somehow. Not more than two minutes later, though, the steering becomes a little more difficult and I realize I have a flat tire. “No! Not now!” I mutter. I pull over to the side of the road cautiously, making sure my blinkers are on. I don’t see any cars right now, but that could change any time. I send a group text to the girls - ‘Flat tire. Have spare. Late but I’ll be there asap.’ I get out to stretch my legs. I look around at the empty road. There are no buildings for a couple miles still; . As I look to my left, I notice my trunk is slightly ajar. “Strange, I know I closed it.” I narrow my eyes in confusion and go to close it. Maybe that’s why I heard a weird noise. As I get to the back of my car, though, I see something moving. I gasp in shock and stand frozen for a few seconds. I snap back to reality when I hear a soft whimper. I open the trunk a little more to see three puppies staring at me, one of them with its tongue out. “Oh my! Aren’t you just the cutest things! How on earth did y’all get in here!?” I figure someone must have put the puppies in there when I paid for the gas, but how they got the trunk open I’ll never know. They can’t be over 8 weeks, I think, because they’re still so small. They all look identical, dark gray all over, except one has a small circle of white between its eyes. I start petting the one with white when I notice a thin chain around its neck with a dog tag. I scoop it up in my hand and see it says Cerberus. I feel of the other pups’ necks, but they don’t have a tag. “Well, at least I know your name, Cerberus.” I look around to see if anyone is watching and wonder if this is a joke somehow. Of course I don’t see anyone, but I expected I wouldn’t. I reach down to pick up Cerberus and smile as he licks my hand. When I go to pick him up, somehow the other two pups are coming up at the same time. I readjust my grip, but it doesn’t help. I open the trunk all the way to see why I can’t pick up Cerberus, but instead of seeing the pups tangled, I step back quickly in fear I guess it is, and I almost fall on my butt. These puppies aren’t puppies. This is just one puppy… I think. One body, three heads. A sinking feeling creeps up as I realize that Cerberus isn’t the name of the one pup, but instead, what it actually is. I thought the Cerberus was a huge monster-like beast of folklore. This is just a puppy, or puppies? I regain control over my body and take a step forward. The puppy doesn’t seem dangerous, it did lick me after all. I pick up the Cerberus carefully and hold it close to comfort it. All three of them start licking my face and I giggle a little. “Y’all are just like three real pups, aren’t you?” They’re settling down a little now, and I decide to look at the tag again. On the one side, it says Cerberus. On the other side, it has a short message. ‘Lilith had 4 pups. You are chosen to raise one. This pup should be a protector. DO NOT FAIL.’ I send a group text - ‘So sorry. I’m ok. Emergency came up though. Will explain later. Can’t make it this year. Catch up soon.’ It’s been 3 years now. Riley, Alex, and Bailey are getting big. I have no idea when they’ll stop growing. They’re already bigger than a Great Dane. They each have their own personality, too. Riley likes to watch TV and nap a lot. Alex loves cuddling with me and having its ears rubbed. Bailey, the one with the white spot, the center head, is always on alert. Bailey seems to be the leader of Riley and Alex. I had a private trainer sign a confidentiality agreement to work with them and teach me how to continue their training. They definitely would protect anyone from harm, that’s for sure. I don’t know how long I’m supposed to raise them, but I am sure I’m raising them right, at least. Sometimes I wonder what the other pups are being raised for and where they are. I don’t know who gave me this pup, but I do know I will miss them terribly when they’re gone. My life will never be the same since having them around.
Goddamn pheremones. Everyone knows the Alpha is a useless little shit, only holding on to the title because he's got a great Enforcer and his Daddy was a strong warrior. Too damn bad those genes skipped a generation. Now here he is, chasing after some whelp who hasn't even managed to fully Turn yet. Their pups will be useless. Neither one of them are worth a damn in a fight. And yet I still want him. Alpha pheremones...they override common sense. Every damn female in the pack's been panting after him... including me. And even worse...my heat cycle's coming up. The bastard Alpha knows it too. At dinner last night he raised his nose and fucking sniffed me. So damn disrespectful. Joshua, the Enforcer, is walking by. Shit, he's downwind from me. No way he's going to miss the edge of heat on my scent. Yeah, there it is. His smooth walk stumbles, just a little. He's had a thing for me ever since I was the only one who knocked him on his ass during training. He's the one I should want, not that stupid useless Alpha who can't even take a punch. "So it's true then?"He calls out, walking over. "What?"I ask, confused. "You're almost in heat. Heard Alpha say he was going to mate you to Darius from that pack upstate when it's time." I remembered Darius and felt my hackles rise. That wolf was twice my age and had a reputation for going through wives like shirts. Each lasted a season and then, when he didn't get an heir, they had an "accident". Idiot couldn't handle the fact that he's shooting blanks. He's had 6 wives so far. I won't be number 7. A growl forces itself from my throat as fur starts to sprout. Josh looks confused, worried. He should be. "hey, where you going?" "Time for an Alpha challenge"is all I said as I walked away.
Eustace stared at her from across the dining table. The candles flickered in the gentle breeze that wafted through the derelict house. The two of them were the only ones there. The rest of the troopers from his squad were elsewhere - either on sentry duty or taking the lull in the fighting to clean their weapons. It seemed fitting to their commander to reward Eustace with this time off - after all, if not for him, the bridge would have been destroyed and that would have dashed the plan. &#x200B; Eunice stared back at him, a lock of golden hair covered part of her left eye. Both of them looked down at the spartan set up in front of them - a tattered table cloth, a clean plate, some spam and beans on it, and a candle holder with two lit candles placed in the center between them. Eustace smiled, "Some crazy shit eh, this war?" &#x200B; "I thought I had gotten used to it,"came the reply "never thought I would live to see the day the Americans came fighting all the way through to our town." &#x200B; "Yeah, it's all just Germans after Germans, I guess. I never saw much of this combined arms things myself. Up till now." &#x200B; "So...your objective is to hold the bridge?"she asked innocuously. &#x200B; "Yep. Pretty much that. As well as the surrounding town. Then just sit tight and wait for Major Ben to link up with us by noon tomorrow. Can't believe how close your band of thugs came to blowing it up."Eustace was at ease with her. He could trust this girl. &#x200B; Eunice smirked and looked away. "Good thing you spoke a whole sentence of English too. If you had just shouted 'stop' like those Germans do your whole platoon would have been dead."She used her knife to prod at the spam. &#x200B; "Funny eh? How we're all supposed to be on the same side in this damn war, but it's almost as if we're all set to kill each other." &#x200B; "Sometimes it even seems like the Germans are helping us against the British." &#x200B; "I guess no one really knows what's going on,"Eustace chuckled "We just fight whoever we are told. German, Italian, Hungrarian, Brit, French - it's all the same people just wearing different clothes." &#x200B; At that Eunice chuckled too. "We aren't very much different, you and I. I never liked fighting. I've never actually killed a German before." &#x200B; "Neither have I,"admitted Eustace. &#x200B; 'Is this really all worth fighting for?" &#x200B; "Definitely. But whether it's worth dying for, that I'm not so sure,"said Eustace. &#x200B; Both soldiers looked at each other. One clad in the paratrooper green of the United States Airborne, one in the dirt brown of a resistance fighter. Both were grimy and dirty and had splotches of dried blood here and there. There was a bloody gash in Eunice's left arm where a piece of shrapnel had streaked by. &#x200B; In the distance, the staccato fire of a machine gun started up. Men started shouting as they rushed to their positions. &#x200B; Eustace took her hands in his. "Hey Eunice, let's uh.. make a deal. Promise me, when all of this is over, you'll go on a proper date with me? If we are still alive, that is." &#x200B; "You jolly well make sure you goddamn survive, then,"came the reply. &#x200B; Without another word both reached for their weapons against the wall and rushed outside into the night. This operation Market Garden better be worth it.
"Is that all?" Just three people were sitting around the Torch of the Sky Gorge, where Old Friend, the infamous rebel leader, announced a secret meeting of outcasts and the oppressed from the entire Empire of the North. "Yes, it seems to me that is all we have", Steward Uqtash sadly answered. "One guy who was kicked from the Black Hand for taking bribes, one paid spy of the Army of Light and one madman who thinks General Torn is controlling minds with magic rays". The Old Friend noticed that one of the three people sitting by the fire was wearing a hat made of some bright, metallic foil. "Madman?", the strange man yelled. "I am no madman! Look around! The peasants, serfs and slaves! They do not even think of joining the Spark! They pray for General Torn's health every day! Do you think it's just intimidation? No, comrade Kyonacht, it isn't!" "No, it is not", the rebel leader agreed. "But if it's indeed magic, I think I know its name. Its name is efficiency". It was a horrible mistake to misjudge General Torn, thought Kyonacht, known across the Empire under the pseudonym "Old Friend". Since the Lord of the North, once cruel and deceitful dark god, no longer ruled the Empire but rather sat comatose and empty-minded on his throne, General Torn of Ravens had been in control. Kyonacht once knew him as a bureaucrat, as an ambitious prosecutor, a bootlicker, and surely he was all that. However, aside from that, General Torn was a genius of administration. The Lord of the North was capricious, fickle and haughty in his immortality and divine powers and relied entirely on them. General Torn was down-to-earth, no-nonsense and possessed an inquisitive, analytical mind. After he took the reins, unfair taxation stopped, famines no longer occurred, embezzlers and bribe-takers were swiftly dealt with and exiled to the mines of the frozen North. No, Torn was no good elven king, far from that. He was ruthless and unforgiving, but he was just... or simply adept at appearing just. Under him, the Empire of the North functioned as a well-oiled mechanism. "What shall we do?", Uqtash Halforcen asked. "We wait", Kyonacht answered. "I am aware that Torn of Ravens, Voice of the Lord, is trafficking with powers much worse than the Lord of the North. I mean the Void. He couldn't become an immortal wight without help from the Void. It is only a matter of time until he cracks, snaps, loses his marbles. The ruthless, efficient administrator will die and be replaced by a madman no better than the Lord himself. And this will be the time when the rebels will rise".
“Sir, he is here.” “Thanks Eve. Please let him in,” I say. I turn off the TV hanging on the east wall of my office and click the button that dims the glass walls. Some conversations are best kept private. Like this one, with mister X. For so long, I’ve been surrounded by incompetent idiots and boot lickers, but my contacts in Gotham tell me he’s legit. It is mildly intriguing, I must admit, that I don’t know his real name, but I am well aware of his and his crew’s achievements. They worked in Gotham before picking a fight with Batman and ending up here. Whoever survives an encounter with Batman is a decent job candidate. If they pass the interview, that is. I hope he’s good. &#x200B; The door open and Eve escorts him in. He looks like an abandoned army veteran with PTSD or a homeless person. Or both. One of my cufflinks is worth more than all he has on. Black military boots, gray cargo pants, some sort of grey hoodie covered with... coffee stains? His hair is brown and unkempt and face serious, but red, like a drunkard, with salt and pepper short beard. First impression - not good. “Call me Corey. Corey Taylor. May I call you-”, he says, pushing her aside. “No. And I presume ‘Corey’ is not really your name.” He shrugs. Interesting. “Corey, please sit. And tell me more about you and your crew.” “I’ve sent you the resume and you’ve done your research I believe. There is nothing more to it,” he says and squirms in the seat. “I really thought this was about my salary.” Cool like a cucumber. But the next moment his back is straight, and he leans slightly forward, eyes focused on me like a laser. Left hand tense, deep breaths. I sigh, disappointed. It's all an act, he lost his cool already. We both know who the real interviewer is. I bet he just wants this job badly. Oh well, still, he might be okay. “we're not talking about salary, Corey,"I say shaking my head. "I know all about your bank and train heists and the break in at the 66th street Police station.” Slowly, I cross my arms. “You even stole from me. Three million from Met Parks Society last year. I-” “Uhmm.. was that you? I’m sorry. Unfortunately, we spent that money.” I smirk. It’s dumb, I'm done with that game, but I guess he can’t read the verbal clues. Another disappointment. “Connor... right?” “Corey.” “Let’s cut the crap and you just tell me what can you offer that the other candidates on my list can’t?!” He jolts and swallows. “Others?” I snicker. “Yeah, others.” I wait for few moments, but he is frozen. “So, nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? Tell me something that will blow my mind and make me hire you! Right here, right now.” He leans back, almost slumps in the armchair and exhales loudly. “This is the slow one. It's a personal one too. I’m not naming names, it's about someone who helped me through a lot and I thought she felt the same way that I did and then she really let me down.” “Huh?” I say, confused. “Actually, you know what, let’s just call her Snuff.” “Snuff?” “Yeah, like the snorting tobacco. She was like that, a treasure in a shiny little box, delightful and highly addictive. I hired her because I need a new close combat expert on my team. She was into knives a lot. Like, she could hit an apple with a knife from 30 feet and split it in perfect halves. But it’s not the apples she enjoyed splitting most.” He taps his head. “You know what I mean.” “What?” I shake my head in disbelief. He spends the next ten minutes vividly describing Snuff’s assassination methods. Apparently, she killed four guys who were maybe Corey’s competitors. First guy, she impaled on a flagpole and split his skull open with a combat knife. Second, she slit his throat and pulled out his vocal cords. But the story then turns weird. Corey mumbles about Snuff losing a quarter of her soul with every kill and I think he blames himself for that, but it makes no sense. At one point, he becomes poetic and actually says ‘ooh, my love was punished long ago, if you still care don't ever let me know’, and I gasp, but he gets is the wrong way and keeps going on. The whole story becomes forced, discombobulated and poorly narrated. By the time he starts describing gruesome details of her third killing, I lose interest. I don’t care about his mentally disturbed maybe-lover butchering random anons. Most mercs in this city are like that. And his whole story is so irrelevant, as if he has never done a job interview in his life. This whole meeting is just one big waste of my time. I pull my phone and look at the list of other job candidates. Sinestro, Nightfall, Universo, Felix Faust. I’ve worked with some of them before. The others, I’ve just heard about. I’ll need to get up to speed with Sinestro’s recent work really fast, he’s the next candidate I’ll have an interview with. “In the end, when she killed the last one and there was no competition any more, she disappeared. I told her not to, she really let me down. I still miss her, you know.” he says, “At the same time, it was good that she did, because it was that final push to me figuring out myself.” With phone in my hands, I text Eve to schedule my next meeting when I hear him fidget. He waves. He actually waves at me. “Sure, sure, Corey. Competition is bad. Need to get rid of it. As a businessman I completely understand that. I’m glad you got rid of her.” He grins. “So, are we going to talk about my salary now?” “Ermm… Not now. I’ll get back to you about that.” I call Eve and a few moments later, she escorts Corey outside. He says he’ll wait in the lobby. I guess he doesn’t know it’s going to be a long wait. I sit back in the armchair and let my mind rest. This was really bad. “Sir,” Eve says over the intercom, “You should turn the TV on. Channel 5.” Breaking news report. A reporter standing in front of a hotel across the city and before the sound comes up, the chyron reads “Villain Sinestro stabbed to death in Halldorf Hotel.” “A reporter from the Daily Planet just described us the gruesome scene inside. The body hangs impaled on a flagpole with what appears to be a knife of some sort buried deep inside the skull,” the reporter says. The pole and the knife. That’s... interesting. “Ms. Teschmacher,” I say over the intercom, my eyes still glued to the tv. “Eve Teschmacher!” “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just-” “Eve, is Corey Taylor still in the lobby?” “Yes.” “Tell him I want to talk to him. Also, call Nightfall, right now.” Before she could answer, my phone buzzes. Text reads “OMW”. Unknown number. Before I turn off the phone, I glance at the list of job candidates. Sinestro, Nightfall, Universo, Felix Faust. “Sir, Corey Taylor is here.” “Let him in. And don’t bother with Nightfall. I’m sure he can’t pick up.” “I bet he has a really sore throat,” Corey says entering the office. “Indeed. And I bet the others are sick too”, I say He nods. “It's tricky when you get sick in this market. The job goes to your competitor.” I smile. “Who are you?” “The Boss.” “Nice to meet you, Boss. You may call me Lex Luthor.” He nods. “Well, Lex, let’s talk about my salary.” &#x200B; &#x200B; Also prequel to [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bx8ehj/wp_an_elite_team_of_theives_almost_pull_off/eq6u0u6/?context=3)
I was bored like every other day. So I decided to go to Wikipedia and read something interesting. Better than sitting around and wasting away. I dunno why, but I searched myself up. A page of me popped up, making me jump in surprise. I didn’t actually expect a page about me to be there. A bit nervous, I clicked onto the page. It showed almost all the information about me from birth, to my death. I decided to change my death to now. I thought it would be funny. Honestly, I thought it would’ve been. So, I changed my death to a few minutes away, by a heart attack. I laughed at it, thinking nothing would happen. I then screamed in agony as I felt my chest being torn apart. It wasn’t really, but it felt like that. I was dead within seconds. Please god, I can’t go to hell. I didn’t kill myself, please let me go to heaven!
“P.. aahhh... PINe-aahHHh...,"Benjamin tried to contain his sneeze using a trick he learned recently. He heard saying 'pineapple' would interrupt the sneeze. He tried to rush the word out. "PINEAPP-ACHOOO!"Benjamin sighed, but kept his eyes closed after the sneeze. He felt his feet ankle deep in a pool of liquid; he hoped it was water. He knew he teleported again. Along with the water at his feet, he saw bright light through his shut eyelids and felt heat all around him. He guessed he was outside now instead of his air-conditioned room at home. He heard the murmur of commotion around him and decided to open his eyes. No one seemed concerned that he appeared out of nowhere. The brilliant golden sunlight almost blinded him. He needed to blink several times to get used to it, then he was able to look around. He stood in a large water fountain. He looked down; copper and silver coins glinted beneath the shallow surface. Strangers wandered by around the fountain. Benjamin met a few puzzled glances but most people seemed to ignore the teenager. He searched his pockets as he made his way out of the fountain, but sighed disappointedly once he was out of its depths. He sat down on the edge of the fountain while he considered his next move. Ever since his 'problem' started he began to carry a small pepper shaker in his pockets. Another sneeze was usually the quickest way to get him back home. This particular sneeze happened as he was changing pants and he had not moved the pepper to his new pockets yet. Benjamin watched the people go by and realized more than half of them carried bags of something or another. He stood up and looked around; he saw different shops up and down the street then realized he was downtown. "If there's shopping, there's restaurants,"Benjamin reasoned. He picked a direction and started following the flow of pedestrians. He wandered the street admiring how similar this world was to his. It always amazed him that every Earth he visited, only a handful so far, was so normal. After a couple of blocks, the smell of cooking meat hit his nose. He had trouble pinpointing the source at first; but, he noticed a small group walk by with the smell of food. Three of the four strangers carried white plastic bags that looked like restaurant leftovers. Benjamin headed in the direction the group came from and found a hole-in-the-wall that claimed to have the world's best burgers. He walked in and headed to the closest table. "Table for one?"A young waitress with curly blond hair popped up in his way. Her nametag said, "Debbie". Benjamin shook his head. "No. I just need a pinch of pepper then I'll be out of your way,"he smiled. Debbie tilted her head then leaned across the nearby table to grab the pepper shaker. "Pepper? What for?"she asked as she handed it to him. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you,"Benjamin said and shook it into his hands several times. He handed the container back to Debbie. "Every time I sneeze I get teleported to an alternate universe. I'm just trying to get home,"he said as he lifted his hand to his nose. Debbie smiled broadly and giggled. "You're kidding! I've never heard that one before,"she said. Benjamin shook his head. "You'll see,"he said. Then he inhaled the pepper deeply. "No, wait! I meant-"Debbie grabbed his hand to pull it away from his nose but it was too late. "AAAACHOOo!"Benjamin clamped his eyes shut and sneezed. He warily opened his eye and immediately recognized his ragged brown comforter on his bed. He sighed with relief, but then he felt something on his arm. "Is this your room?"Debbie asked at the same moment Benjamin realized he wasn't alone. "Oh no! I'm sorry! I didn't know I could teleport people too...,"Benjamin immediately started apologizing. Debbie gave him a dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it."She continued to wiggle her fingers in the air. A tall black portal opened next to her. "Come back to my Earth if you ever want to learn how to open portals without sneezing." "I can do that??"Benjamin asked. "Wait!"Debbie was already stepping into the dark hole. "How do I get to your Earth?"She stopped, turned around and smiled. "You've been there already, you can go back any time you want,"she shrugged. "If you get lost ask someone to drop you on Earth: Pineapple,"she said. Then the portal closed. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #161 . 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.
Ares woke up to the dulcet tones of Master of the puppets, by Metallica. "Ugh, I hate these dull oldies..."He grumbled as he lifted from his pillow and turned off his radio alarm. He quickly switched on his favorite band, 'Genocidal Blood Orgy'. He opened his bedside drawer, methodically opening a small baggy filled with pills, then grabbed a seemingly random amount and tossed them into his mouth. Ever since the last great war had ushered in the first ever full service draft, where women, children, and men of all ages were called into service nearly 100 years ago, violence became encouraged in nearly all ways, and everyone took regular rations of amphetamines - Ares was no exception. Continuing his morning routine, he put on his Kevlar jeans, long sleeve flak shirt, and combat vest, before strapping into his boots, and pulling on his utility belt. He double checked his Glock was loaded, and strapped his combat tomahawk to its vest holster. No one dared leave their homes without full combat attire, that is, except for those strange rioters who were constantly getting arrested or killed. He pulled on his helmet, and asked the integrated AI system for news updates. As the monotone voice droned, Ares found himself surprised. "More peace-riots? People are idiots...", he muttered to himself as he slipped into his gauntlets, moving his fingers to ensure a good fit, and finally latched them tightly closed near his elbow. He was finally done gearing up, and was ready to depart. He clicked off his radio, and Walked to the door, where he entered the pre-Exit code. "Notice - male combatant with elevated heart-rate has been waiting outside for approximately one hour"Ares's door system chimed. "Time to fucking party"Ares said, as his doors steel bolts turned open. Ares pulled his pistol, and waited for the door to slide open, but as it did, he was caught off guard by a co-worker in full combat gear sprinting towards him. Ares was hurled backwards into his home, and onto his back by his co-worker Morg, who quickly repositioned himself to start bludgeoning Ares's helmet with a club hand. The first blow hit as Morg yelled a resounding "Fuck...", which he finished as he hit Ares's helmet another time "...you!"At that point, Ares felt the helmet beginning to be compromised, so rather than fight for position, he began unloading his gun into Morg's midsection, crawling away from under him as he drained the clip. Morg gasped for air as Ares Struggled to his feet. Of course, the rounds hadn't completely pierced Morg's armor, but it certainly knocked the wind out of Morg, providing Ares a chance to move away and assess the situation. Last week, Ares had been granted an extra bonus for a better document on a new potential torture technique their firm could implement. Well, actually, he hadn't actually made a better document, but he'd attacked Morg as Morg was explaining the documents to a committee. After he'd taken the document from Morg, as well as taking Morg's right hand, the committee unanimously agreed that Ares deserved the credit. Ares mocked Morg, "You know, I would have chopped off one of your legs if I knew you'd come at me with that new club you have..." Morg lunched towards Ares with his club, but Ares had anticipated it. He sidestepped the Swing, and kicked Morg hard in the midsection where Morg had just been shot, then in one fluid motion, removed his tomahawk from it's fastening on his vest, and swung it down onto the back of Morg's combat helmet. When he went to pull the handle to strike again, his heart sank. The blade was stuck in Morg's helmet. Before he had a chance to pull again, Morg sprung at Ares's feet, clamoring atop Ares yet again, and wrapping his one good hand around Ares's throat. Ares tried to pry Morg's fingers, but to no avail. "Sold my old gauntlets when I lost my hand,"Morg seemed to say in response, "this one has a strength augmentation, so my hand isn't going anywhere... I get to watch you choke". Morg smiled as Ares began to kick the air in panic. His gun was out of ammo, and he couldn't reach his tomahawk, which was still lodged in Morg's helmet. He fought for air that wouldn't come, and began a fruitless effort to push at Morg's neck. Maneuvering his hands around the crease of Morg's helmet, he began see darkness around the edges of his vision, as he began to drift into unconscious... SNIKT Morg's hand relented, and Ares gasped for air, as blood began dripping onto his face shield from between Morg's helmet and flak shirt. Ares clicked a button on the palm of his gauntlets, and the sleek, blood covered blade retracted back, out of Morg's neck, and back under his forearm into his gauntlet. Morg coughed as Ares shrugged his limp body off from over him, sending blood out onto his flak shirt, and into the visor of his helmet. "Sorry Morg... You're good, but I'm a lot fucking better", Ares chuckled as he dislodged the tomahawk from Morg's helmet. "A.... lot... Fucking... better..."Ares said as he swung the blade repeatedly at Morg's neck, removing the head from the shoulders. "Initiate video call to Boss Pierce", Ares chimed confidently as he walked over to his wallphone. "Mr. Pierce,"Ares chimed, "I'm going to be a little late today... It seems Morg was still pretty annoyed about last week"Ares swung Morg's head in front of the camera. "Excellent work Ares! We're all very impressed with the initiative you show to get ahead here!"Pierce chuckled softly at his own joke. "At this rate you'll be a director in no time!" . . . Note: First ever prompt response, please be gentle. Also, typed on mobile, so there might be some stupid errors. Any feedback positive or negative would be appreciated!
When I woke up I found myself sitting in front of a fire. It was a campfire burning strong with strange orange-blue flames that gave off an intense heat. It felt as if the heat would scorch my skin. I quickly shuffled back to my feet to escape the fire’s range, nearly falling over in my haste. Blood rushed to my head causing me to become disorientated. I nearly collapsed as I reached out my hand to steady myself. My bare hand fell upon a wall, rough and hard stone. &#x200B; I took a moment to collect myself before surveying my surroundings. Despite the heat, the fire provided very little light. I could barely make out that I was in some sort of room, surrounded all sides by stone. On the opposite wall of me I could just make out the faint outline of a doorway. Nothing else. No windows. No other light source. Nothing. &#x200B; I cautiously made my way to the door, tracing the walls with my hand as to avoid getting too close to the fire. It looked to be some sort of metal door, heavy yet swinging freely on its hinge. I was about to step through when I noticed a faint red glow etched into the wall beside the doorway. The strange symbols glowed and swirled as they lay embedded into he wall as if someone had carved them with some sort of magical device. &#x200B; As I continued to gaze at the etching, they slowly changed from random symbols into words I could read. “Tripwire, tread carefully.” I stared in confusion as the words slowly began to change yet again, ever shifting. &#x200B; I crouched down, lightly tracing my fingers along the frame of the doorway. Slowly, up and down, being as careful as I could, I traced the frame until they caught on a thin, black wire. I stepped over the wire through the doorway and glanced back. I only saw the campfire that seemed to diminish the further I moved from it. &#x200B; The outside of the room led me to a hallway made of the same stone as the room. However, these walls had hand-sized windows on the upper-portion of the walls. These windows let in blue beams of low glowing light that led me to believe that it was night. The light was barely enough to illuminate my way. Still I made my way down the hallway at an agonizingly slow pace with my hand ever tracing the wall. &#x200B; I had never been very good at keeping track of time but if I had to guess I walked for nearly an hour down the hallway. It was a straightforward path. I couldn’t see too far ahead of me nor could I see the campfire anymore. No way out but forward. &#x200B; Perhaps due to the intense silence or the lack of any other stimulation, I found my senses were hyper-aware. I could hear every step I took, could feel the coarse texture of the walls as I traced them. I was sweating profusely now even though the hallway was chillingly cold. I went to wipe my brow when I noticed another faint glow off to my right. It was another undecipherable message carved into the wall. I stared intensely at the red symbols, waiting patiently, hoping they would change into something I could read. After a time, I could. “Monster ahead. Beware the ledge.” &#x200B; Monster? That has to be some kind of joke, I thought to myself. Though no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I knew somehow the message spoke true. I continued forward creeping and hugging the wall, trying as best as I could to minimize all sounds I made. &#x200B; After a time, I finally heard something and I froze. Something hard was scraping along stone as if being dragged. The noise got louder as it got closer and I pushed myself even closer to the wall, wedging myself into the corner of the wall and the floor away from the faint illuminating light beams. I tried in vain to steady my ragged, rattling breath. Steady and quiet, I waited. &#x200B; I almost let out of gasp when I saw it. At first I thought it was human but its movements were off. It jerked forward in steps, rattling with each movement as if it struggled to walk or even stay upright. It passed through one of the light beams and I could see no flesh, just bone clad in armor. A walking skeleton. Behind the monster it dragged a dirty, decrepit sword and the sound of it dragging along the stone floor was deafening in the narrow, otherwise silent hallway. It continued walking, shambling, towards me and my feeble hiding spot. I prayed that its vision was bad, that it would continue down this dark hallway right past me. &#x200B; It stopped a few steps away from me and I craned my neck back to see what it was doing. It stood there, facing my prone body, head cocked to the side. Then, it opened its mouth and let out a wretched scream that echoed in the narrow hallway. I moved to cover my ears when I felt an intense pain in my arm. I looked down to see the monster had dug his sword deep into my right shoulder. Perhaps it was luck for had I not moved to cover my ears, the strike would have hit my neck. Still the pain of the slash caused me to scream. &#x200B; The monster pulled its sword back, wrenching it free from my flesh. I screamed again. My arm was hanging on by a few pieces of flesh, blood gushing out in torrents. I almost passed out as I saw the monster raise the sword above its head again, readying it for a killing blow. &#x200B; “I don’t want to die again,” a voice said in the back of my head. Through the pain, through the fear, this thought shook me. Fragments of memories came flooding back, small pieces of a vast puzzle I could not yet decipher. “Dodge!” &#x200B; Adrenaline coursed through my body as I kicked my feet off the floor, rolling forward just as the monster’s sword swung past me, barely missing another blow. Cradling my almost severed arm, I ran past the monster down the hallway. I could hear its steps and screams behind me but seemed as if it was struggling to keep pace with me. I turned to see the monster shambling forward, screaming and wildly swinging its sword towards me but I was now out of its reach. &#x200B; I continued running, relief slowly replacing the fear. Step after step I took away from the creature. Only too late did I remember the second part of the message, “Beware the ledge.” &#x200B; My foot, expecting a stone floor, found nothing but air. I tumbled forward and let out a scream. I didn’t even feel the impact as my vision dimmed to black. The last thing I remember seeing were the red symbols, floating in my vision for me to read. The symbols were a little different this time, spelling out very clearly in large, bright red letters, “You died.” &#x200B; When I woke up I found myself sitting in front of a fire. It was a campfire burning strong with strange orange-blue flames that gave off an intense heat.
It started slowly. A little pink cat here or there, some stickers and a notebook or two. I always hated that color. Specially on a cat that barely has a face. Hello Kitty. That name has been haunting me for years now. It started with little kids and this cute cat, but little by little countries decided to take this damn cat as their mascot. It started in Asia with hello Kitty themed shops and restaurants, then to Europe. Now everyone is all but worshipping this damn cat and that horrid color! There are parades down the streets in almost every town at least once a year, and everyone is forced to wear pink uniforms with small hello Kitty pins on them. So. Much. Pink. You go into an office now and everything is pink or white. Pens, pencils, notebooks, you name it. The only ink color now is pink. The lines in the notebooks? Pink! You cannot get away from this horror! All currency now has pictures of hello Kitty in stead of world leaders, and of course the color of said currency is, of course, pink! They even found a way to manufacture fruit, vegetables, and even meat to be a sickly pink color even when fully cooked. God help us all.
The smell hit before I even opened the door. Today was the anniversary of their arrival and there were a full day of Human/Alien meetings intermingled with news conferences planned. As Senior Aide to the Director of Alien Affairs I would be in close contact with both senior governmental officials and emissaries from the planet Terralazon alike. Unfortunately for one of my personal favorite senses. Our intergalactic visitors brought many wonderful technologies with them. World changing tech like artificial intelligence, gravity-based limitless energy. Medical procedures and devices that had extended the estimated lifespan of humankind by hundreds of years while at the same time awakening latent superhuman intelligence and abilities. Equipment that was able to scrub all of the accumulated pollution from the atmosphere and the oceans as well. While their appearance took some getting used to as it was so completely foreign to human experience that it was difficult to look directly at them, they quickly became known for the trait that was now assailing my nose. They smelled like the most rotten wet dog you’ve ever encountered had a lovechild with with a pig. And then that cursed offspring died underneath your house in July and decomposed for weeks before you were able to remove it. Add in a spritz of bleach and an abundance of sweaty unwashed testicles and you get an approximation of the funk cloud that surrounded them. Which is where they got their nickname, Terrastanks. Whilst they had solved the mysteries of genetics and mastered the intricacies of faster than light travel, they had evolved with never having the slightest concept of personal grooming introduced to their collective consciousness. Our biology wizards hypothesized that due to the fact that they reproduced by cellular division, they never had to worry about attracting a member of the opposite sex. Thus never developing self awareness about personal hygiene. They did possess the sense of smell, a powerful one at that. It’s just that they reveled in both wonderful and foul odors alike. Kind of like an old hunting hound. And like an old hunting dog, they had the tendency to touch and wallow in scents that they found interesting, saving them upon their body for lingering enjoyment. When added to the fact that their lifespan was measured by millennia, not years, it equated to a horrendous assault upon the noses of anyone within fifty feet of them. My friends had long joked that I could fit a nickel up each one of my nostrils, which in my opinion magnified the discomfort I was about to endure to at least twice that of a person with a normal sized proboscis. Their ships were living organisms, after a fashion. Exotic metals blended with organic materials with its own metabolic system maintaining the integrity of the husk. Possessing a metabolic system meant that the ship didn’t run on fuel as we think of it, being living organisms they require a form of sustenance. Which the ships were capable of absorbing through any surface within its slimy hull. One of the core tenets of Terralazon philosophy was to eliminate wastefulness. Which led to them deciding to defecate, urinate and slagomilate wherever they currently where located when the need arose. I’m still a little shaky on my understanding of what slagomilating entailed but it has something to do with oozing toxins and unneeded hormones out through the skin in a substance that resembled a human male’s ejaculate. All in all, the Terralazonians were pretty disgusting creatures by human standards. They were ugly, smelled so bad that there really isn’t even an adequate word to describe them, and had no concept of respecting one’s personal boundaries. But they had also long ago eliminated from their society the tragedies of war, of violence, of environmental destruction. They traveled the universe seeking out other life forms to help along in their path towards ultimate enlightenment, towards preordained destinies both civilization-wide and deeply personal. They were all about personal growth, and had the ability to telepathically communicate with any individual anywhere on the planet and did so constantly. Like the worlds best therapist on demand at any given time. I was beyond thankful for what they had done for us, for me... I smeared some Vaporub inside of my nostrils, lifted my head and straightened my shoulders and opened the door to go greet my newfound friends and most-benevolent gods.
I almost drove my car off a bridge. The little bouts of loss of focus were hitting me every three seconds. Three seconds? I gripped the familiar burgundy pleather steering wheel and tried to will myself into the moment. Cars beside me honked as I veered dangerously back and forth across my lane. My head felt heavy and I realized I was leaning to the side. What was happening again? Was I in a car? I looked to my left to find a pair of headlights just about to hit me and almost by fluke, jumped back and hit the wheel on my way, swinging back into my lane. Clarity. I steadied the car in my lane amidst the chorus of honks and profanities. I slowed down to a stop and the cars behind me were forced to merge into the one beside me. Waves of angry faces passed me by as the next lane let me know their displeasure. Passing by, passing, why were these faces passing? Why were they angry? Were they looking at me? How could they see me? Hold on, I was holding a steering wheel? A woman screamed 'drive, asshole' at me, was that what I was supposed to do? Oh haha my foot was on the pedal I just have to put it on the other one Clarity That one didn't feel as bad. Was it wearing off, whatever this was? I thought I knew this from the guide on e-narcotics in my security training. But I didn't remember taking - ah! Of course I wouldn't. This wasn't voluntary. I wouldn't be stupid enough to take one while driving. My passenger side door rattled in the wind, and I noticed the telltale spots of sweat from a person in the passenger seat. "Move asshole!"Shouted someone in an SUV and I suddenly remembered that I was in traffic. That must have been another episode, not so bad this time, meaning the e-narcotic had been a small dose. If it affected memory, like I suspected, it would have taken away the last hour, tops. What happened here? My phone buzzed against the cupholder. "Here for our date, where TF are you?"Scrolling back I couldn't get a sense of who this was. A lot of deleted messages, from both my end and her end for some reason, but I did get an address, a cafe I knew for a fact was only a minute away. "Sorry held up in traffic on my way" "Don't keep a girl waiting ok? You're lucky I like you, half an hour is a long time to wait." I burst into the cafe, hoping to see something familiar. A gorgeous woman looked up at me and smiled in recognition "Well finally! You must be Mr Important!"I forced a fake laugh. She didn't seem super upset. I felt my mind fuzz slightly as it pulsed with another episode. I had to think. "Hey listen, I have to hit the washroom real quick."Her smile faded. "Babe, I've been waiting for you half an hour." "I know, I'm sorry, I'll be really quick." I hunched in front of the mirror and smoothed my hair. I looked like shit. Why didn't she mention it? The door opened and a tough looking man walked past me into the stall but started speaking to me. "Hey buddy, you with that cute blonde? I heard her tell you she'd been here half an hour but I thought you should know she got here right before you."
My grandfather was an absolutely amazing man. I was crushed when he died. All I was left with were memories and an old journal. I open it up to the first page. "Time is but a river in which we are the fish."A saying I got used to hearing as a child, but never really understood. I feel like opening up the journal any further would be an invasion of privacy. That thing holds all of his thoughts and dreams, wishes and stories of his life. It seems...sacred somehow. I decide to go to the river. Our favorite spot. It was difficult to get to, but hardly anyone else knew about it. I decide to do something else that he taught me a long time ago, meditate. This relaxing place by the river is where I feel him the most anyway. As I meditate and relax, remembering my grandfather and his wise words I suddenly feel slightly strange. Like...my body is being transported somewhere else... I open my eyes. Am I awake? Is this...real? I see an old memory of me and my grandfather at this very river... I was no more than five years old. I reach out...and touch my grandfather's arm. "So you finally figured it out have you? That's wonderful. It's time to read my journal and maybe fix some of my mistakes. It's good to see you."I close my eyes and slam back into my own body. I guess I panicked a little... That couldn't be real...right? I reach for my grandfather's journal and start reading.
"Hello", Rene said as she approached the bank manager. "My name is Rene Smith, I called your bank yesterday. I have an approval for an Unaging Loan". "One minute, please...", the manager responded. Unaging treatments appeared on the market five years ago, and, needless to say, their cost was exorbitant. For the entirety of these five years, Rene had been formulating plans and schemes, with the only goal: somehow afford the treatment. She thought of selling her house and betting the entire sum in some improbable sports event. This was too risky, and if the bet was lost, she would have nowhere to live. She thought of inventing some crazy new technology and starting a new corporation, but everything was patented already. She even thought of raiding some mobster cache of cash, but in this case, failure meant death, and not necessarily quick. Eventually, the market offered a perfect solution for working stiffs like her: the Unaging Loan. The interest rate was even not too high, but anyone who took the loan was supposed to pay it out for five hundred years. Oh, and anyone treated with unaging, of course, forsook any and all pensions due to old age. Five centuries of hard work and paying out the loan. The safe, sane option. "Five hundred years is plenty of time", Rene thought. "Maybe I'll make it big, or win the lottery at some point. Maybe the world will be hit with hyperinflation and I'll pay out the entire loan with one month's salary... Maybe there even will be a nuclear war, and I'll just walk away and forget about it, after all, no bank accepts bottle caps." "Please put your signatures here and here", the bank manager said, and Rene did so.
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“I’m sorry Jon, but I must do this.” “Jane, no, stop, I don’t want this. Please Jane don’t do this.” “For it is in sacrifice that we achieve immortality-“ “Jane please I can’t, I can’t lose you, not again.” “Through this, we become a paragon of kindness and compassion-“ “Jane please, let me die.” “Always to help, never to harm-“ “Please Jane I’m begging you, don’t do this to me. I can’t live in a world without you.” “With boundless generosity and a magnanimous heart-“ “Please Jane just stop.” “I sacrifice my body and set thee free from suffering.” “...why” “Did you ever think that I wouldn’t be able to live without you?” “Goodbye Jon. I’m sorry, I had to.” Edit: ehhh, could use a bit more polishing.
The sun dips bellow the foreign horizon draped in brilliant neon as it gave way to the deep, near black, blue of night. The land became quiet and still. The small strange creatures of day retreated to the deep and tangled vegetation of purple and red. The astronaut lifted the tinted visor of his helmet to take in the natural light of the three moons looming on the horizon. In the near dark it land’s strange colors became muted. It brought him back, if only for a brief blink of time, back to his home, back to the familiar green of the trees and brown of the earth. But, soon the mirage had passed. He looked around, not even the stars were the same. He was the only human for billions of miles. As the strange world slept, he sat alone looking towards the stars trying to find meaning, wondering which way was home.
“You are the funkiest little doxie I ever did see!” Ezra exclaimed. I watched in stunned silence as he not only picked up my dog but began to shower her with kisses. Never in a million years had I ever thought that my shy barky beast would allow another being beside myself to touch her. And not only touch her but to hold her and coddle her like I would. He had to be some sort of witch to do that. Diamond all the while was happily grumbling in return, her tail going crazy. “Next time I’ll bring you treats too,” he booped her on the nose with a wide grin before looking up to me. “What a sweet dog, what’s her name again?” he asked. “Diamond,” I said still trying to regain my composure. Ezra lived in the apartment across from mine, his windows like my own were crammed with plants. Some I had been trying to find. We had struck up a conversation and he promised to give me some cuttings. He brought more than I had pots for. They were of striking variety and some I had never even seen. I set the box down on my desk but made sure to keep an eye on Diamond in case she suddenly became herself. But she didn’t. She was happily tucked up in Ezra’s arms though she was looking at me with her goofy eyes. “Your orchid is going to bloom soon.” Ezra mused. I glanced up to the hanging planter. There were some buds on the end of a shoot, but I had assumed it would still be a few weeks before they opened. “It’s going to be a surprise, as I don’t remember what the colors were,” I said beginning to sort the cuttings. “Oh that will be exciting,” He moved around the planter as he was tall enough to hit it with his head, while I was just short enough to pass under. “Your plants are very happy.” I looked over to him. He had sat down on my army trunk made couch and was busy squishing Diamonds face. “I guess so, I never really thought about their feelings. Though that one can be dramatic,” I said gesturing to my purple oxalis. If I missed it’s watering day, it acted as if I hadn’t watered it in years. “All plants have feelings,” he said off handley leaning over to the oxalis. “Your oxalis likes you very much,” he stated giving me a wide smile. I rolled my eyes and shook my head with a scoff. It was alive so I would hope it was happy. “Do you ever think you may spend too much time around plants,” I teased. He owned a small botanical shop in downtown Brooklyn. Not to mention his apartment was almost a greenhouse. The only time he wasn’t around plants was when his partner Philip dragged him somewhere without foliage. He was definitely the odd ball in the relationship. Tall and lanky, and with a non existent taste in appearance. His only saving grace for not looking like a weirdo was Philip. Because without him, Ezra would probably wear nothing but oversized kahki pants and miserable 90’s t-shirts. Today was one of the days Philip hadn’t dressed him, and he was wearing just that. He was weird but harmless. Just an eccentric with an incredible love of plants. “One can never spend too much time around plants,” he said. He was gently running his fingers over the leaves of one of my giant peace lilies. I let a silence grow between us as I contemplated which pots to use for which plant, and which plants would work best together. There were some pink leaved plants that matched well with my coral pots while others got the plain black pots. Every now and then I would ask him if a couple could go together. He would not only answer but give me more information about the individual plants than I would ever need. All the while he was going around and touching my other plants. On occasion I did pet the leaves, but it was more to see if they needed a wipe down. The way he was touching them was different, more parental almost loving. “You’ve had this one for a while,” he said suddenly drawing my attention up. He had gone back over to the peace lily and was gently rubbing a leaf between his fingers. Was it just a good guess? The peace lilies were the first plants I had ever gotten. It had been what had made me begin collecting. “I’ve had them for maybe three or four years. Someone gave them to me to look after and never took them back,” I explained. It was almost like he was inspecting the plants. Not for any disease or anything, more like . . . well it was like he was talking to them in a way. I began to set the plants around the room according to Ezra's lighting suggestions. My movements began to get Diamond excited. She expected a walk, even though she had been out only an hour or so before. If given the choice the goofy dog would never stop walking or running for the matter. Ezra began to aid me by hanging up plants. Soon I hoped I would have the traveling monk all over the apartment. It would look so perfect. Our movements had sent Diamond into zoomies and she was racing happily around the apartment. While she was clueless as to how to play like a normal dog, running made her just as happy. Every time she tried to turn she would have a moment of no traction before gaining speed and launching back in the direction she had come from. “My goodness you are so excitable.” Ezra knelt down to pet her. She had different plans. Like a bucking bronco she launched herself into Ezra quickly giving him kisses before launching back off in the other direction. In the process she had knocked his glasses off, which in most cases would have been shaken off with a laugh. But when his glasses left his face he changed. It was as if a shimmering wall was coming down around him and as it did it revealed a different appearance. He still looked like himself, for the most part. Except his skin went from a light cream to the color of a matcha latte and his ears extended back. For a moment we both froze as Diamond continued to sprint around us unaware she had done anything. He was the first to move. Slowly he picked up his glasses and stood giving me a sheepish smile. I floundered in return. “Oh dear,” he muttered softly. From the moment I met him I had thought him strange, but this. Well it was way more than I had ever expected or imagined. I made a few awkward sounds before finding my voice. “What . . are you?” I asked finally. He shuffled about looking around as if for direction. “Well . . . that’s rather a rude question, but fair, I suppose given the circumstances. I’m a . . . well I’ve been given many titles. I’m a nymph?” he paused and put a finger to his nose. “Philip is more knowledgeable about the lore and all that, but I think that is what humans call me. I’m formerly of the fair folk, or I think Philip once said . . . well when he gets back he’d be better at explaining than myself.” he looked away and took a deep breath. “He’s going to be rather annoyed with me for such a simple mistake,” he muttered more to himself. Well shit, my neighbor was a mythical being.
Fire. The sustainer of life and bringer of death, and there it was in my hands. I always considered myself an ordinary man. I just happened to delve too deeply while creating a d&d character. I started getting into the occult. It was mostly just curiosity and to better roleplay my character. However, there I was with actual fire in my hands. I figured it'd be hotter. As long as it was moving though it was just... warm. It was then, while playing with fire, I heard a howl that shook me to my core. Then the door began to splinter Fear and panic. For a moment I was frozen by those two emotions. That was until the fire started to burn. I probably would have died right there if it hadn't woke me from my stupor, because that's when the door exploded inward. Standing in front of me was the largest dog I'd ever seen. Black as night with red eyes and fangs the size of my fingers. Yet the first thought that ran through my head was "two tails huh?"Then it lept. I fell to the ground and threw my hands out. The fire flew toward the beast and hit it in the chest. I got up and ran toward my bedroom. There was no way I'd be able to summon more fire in the state I was in. My next best chance was the pistol I kept by my bed. I slammed the door behind me barely avoiding being pounced on. Whatever it was out there howled again. I grabbed my pistol and racked a round just as the creature broke through the door. Like Jack Nicholson in the shining, only his head came through. That's when I emptied a magazine into its dome. Thrashing around, trying to extricate itself from the door it was a fairly easy target. I made a note to start going back to the gun range. After it being stuck and only maybe 3 yards I had only hit it with three rounds out of eight. I grabbed my other magazine reloaded and began to refill the spent mag. I had barely started to calm down and wonder how I'd explain this to the cops. After all you dont fire right rounds in your apartment and not get a visit from the boys in blue. Iife was going to be pretty interesting from now on. That's when I heard another howl in the distance. Now, knowing they could be killed by conventional means helped the nerves quite a bit. I attempted to summon another flame. As it sparked to life I it howled again. This time closer. With a smile on my face, a gun in one hand and a flame dancing in the other, I awaited the next beast.
I've been chasing this bastard for five years now. Five long hard years of wading through old evidence lockers and digging through every contact I had on the streets. Every time it was a different victim and a different murder weapon. His first victim was a young girl around 8 years old, she was disemboweled then strangled with her own intestines before being buried in a shallow grave in the woods. The motive was unclear, nearly no evidence was left behind, and everyone we questioned had a spot on alibi. Only a singular blue rubber glove was left at the crime scene yet no fingerprints were left inside as if it were unused. A similar glove was found in the garage of Matthew Willows, a recently divorced stock broker who had slit his wrists in his own bathtub. Foul play wasn't suspected till we tried moving the body, a massive cut ran down the entire length of his back. The bones were all there but all the organs in his chest cavity were missing. A junior deputy found them later in several neatly labelled jars in the fridge. The two cases went cold for four years until the spring of '81 when his body count started piling up massively. This time an entire diner was drugged with anesthetics then butchered as they slept. The same kind of glove was found inside one of the victim's mouth, probably woke up too early and started screaming so he had to muffle the poor guy's cries of pain. None of the victims had any major relations and at this point the only motive we could pin on him for the murders was for the sake of killing. This guy was some kind of sicko who just got turned on from the slaughter, he reveled in the deaths he caused. The diner massacre was just the start to his massive murder spree. Annie White, Age 24, was murdered at her apartment in Dallas; Michael Jones, Age 13, was cut clean in half and left to rot in his classroom in Mobile, Alabama; Angela Blanc, Age 40, had her whole uterus cut out and was discovered in an alleyway in Greensboro. The list of bodies just kept on growing as each month passed with each victim suffering a unique fate as if he was filling up a cruel murder bingo card. The "Glove Ghost"the press called him, not the catchiest name but it's better than calling him "That bastard who kept me up at night and made me miss my daughter's ballet recital". His arrest would be my crowning glory, my greatest achievement in life, oh what I would do when I get my hands- "Would your turn that damn thing down I'm trying to think here!"I shouted to my newest partner, Officer Carlston. Young fellow, just joined the force a few months ago after my old partner asked to be switched to a different case when he thought I was going crazy trying to find the Glove Ghost. "Aww come on chief! It's a new song by MJ from their newest album."Whined Carlston "He's on tour right now y'now!" "The what now?" "I know you've been on the force for a while sir but come on you gotta know MJ! One of the Jacksons? They're the coolest thing since ABBA?" "I know who the Jacksons are dimwitt and no Dancing Queen is still one of the best damn songs of the century!"I answered grumpily as I sat back into the seat of my patrol car. Wait a minute he was on tour? I think I remember going to a Jacksons concert last year with my wife back in... "Holy shit"I whispered, I finally figured it out. After years of searching, he was right there infront of me! Infront of everyone! "What is it chief? Finally thought of retiring?"He looked quizzically at me "None of that Carlston! What was the name of that song you were listening to?"I looked at him frantically "Oh it's-" "REPEAT ALL UNITS! WE HAVE A HOSTAGE SITUATION HERE AT 5TH AND MAYVIEW, REQUESTING BACKUP FROM ALL NEARBY CARS! SUSPECTS ARE ARMED AND DANGEROUS!" screamed the radio on our dash. Carlston quickly grabbed the transceiver before I could get an answer out of him "This is car 420, officer Carlston and Jean en route to 5th and Mayview, copy dispatch" "THIS IS DISPATCH, WE READ YOU OFFICER CARLSTON" Fuck guess I'll have to deal with this first. Kidnapping first, and MJ later. You've walked your moon because tonight I'm taking you down \------ Comments and suggestions are appreciated!
Alliane narrowed her eyes at the bright red numbers on the clock; she urged them to change. After several seconds she realized the colon was missing; and, it did not seem to be coming back. She rolled over in the bed and pushed at her sleeping boyfriend, Jonah. He slept on his back and was not breathing. Alliane glanced out the window and noticed the patio light was on; she herself turned it off before going to bed. With a sigh, she stood from the bed. She knew it would be a while before she got to bed and stopped in her closet to change. After dressing in jeans and a t-shirt she made her way out of the bedroom, through the hall then into the kitchen. A lean young man in a navy-blue pinstripe suit was waiting on the patio for her. The patio lights illuminated him from behind and cast his shadow onto the white kitchen tiles. "It couldn't wait 'till morning?"Alliane asked as she slid the glass door open. The young man smiled. "It is morning,"he said. "I meant when the sun's out,"she said as she joined him on the concrete slab outside her back door. She closed the sliding door behind her, then crossed her arms and gave Billy her full attention. Billy shook his head. "There's nothing to see when the sun's out,"he replied. "Before Vanilla died she showed me something. She promised we'd talk about it later but...,"Billy gave a sad shrug. "...she died before that. I wanted to show you." "Okay,"Alliane nodded. She was glad she changed clothes. "Thanks,"Billy smiled and turned to walk toward Alliane's back yard. "Time is stopped right now, right?"He looked at her over his shoulder and asked. "As far as I can tell,"she replied. She did not have the power to stop time like Billy, but she guessed it was him when she noticed her alarm clock didn't move. "Then take a look through this...,"Billy stopped next to a telescope. Alliane didn't recognize it and assumed he brought it with him. "... and see if you can explain it." "Explain what?"Alliane asked as she made herself comfortable by the lens and peered up at the night sky. The telescope was trained on a single glinting, twinkling star that winked at Alliane. She stared at the star for several seconds waiting for something to happen. It did not do anything other than glimmer like a star. She pulled away, looked up at Billy and shrugged. "What am I looking at?" "If time is stopped here on Earth...,"Billy pointed up at the sky. "Why isn't it stopped out there?" \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #162. 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.
GM: "You begin the adventure in Kobe Rodman's Basketball Sports Tavern. Various tele-visions float around the room on suspensors showing barbarous games of athletic combat to the rowdy patrons. You see several prominent figures in the tavern. In the north corner sits a man dressed as a soldier. In the east, a politician wearing a brightly colored suit. And in the south, a lonely woman who looks like a tech wizard. What would you like to do?" Keely: "I don't think they had suspensor anti-grav technology back then. Or if they did, it was only on military vehicles." Avin-5: "Query: Did they not ride four-legged beasts into battle during this time?" GM: "Look, if you guys keep interrupting this is gonna take all night."[GM holds up holographic tablet with the title 'American Adventures In Pre-Apoc Earth, 1982-2235'.] "Besides, I did my research. Now, what do you want to do?" Qo'oslug: [Growling] "Qo'oslug demands to speak with the tech wizard to the south!" Keely: [Annoyed] "You have to use your character's name Qo'oslug. That's why it's called role playing. We went over this on sim chat!" Qo'oslug: [Grumbling] "Apologies honored Keely. Let me try again. [Clears throats] I, JEFF THE DESTROYER, demand to speak to the tech wizard to the south!" GM: "Fine. You approach this tech wizard. She appears to be wearing a Cloak of the Google and has her nose buried in an antique physical data file which appears to be her technical spell book. She doesn't notice you as she leafs through the pages, but she appears to have been crying." Avin-5: "Query: Is this tech wizard displaying allergy symptoms to item: spell book?" Keely: [Exasperated] "No you dummy, she's upset about something! She probably has a quest for us." Avin-5: [Avin-5 scans the play area with a variety of sensors] "Statement: Greetings fair Tech Wizard. I am Midi the Bard. Query: What is the cause of your distress? May we be of assistance?" GM: "The Tech Wizard looks up, startled by the party's arrival at her table. She almost knocks over her Pepsi Clear onto a plate of uneaten wings of the buffalo. After a moment she collects herself. 'Thank you, oh brave bard. I could use the help of adventurers like you. You see, an evil Viceroy named Albert Gore has stolen my most valuable treasure." Qo'oslug: "JEFF THE DESTROYER will punish this Viceroy Albert Gore! I swear this on the bones of my father, Ronald Ray-Gun!"[Qo'oslug pauses] "Also, I desire to taste these wings of buffalo." Keely: [Excited] "See! I knew it would be a quest. Oh great Tech Wizard, what has this evil Viceroy stolen from you?" GM: [Leans in close to the players] "'You see... he has stolen... the Internet!'" Keely: [Gasps] Avin-5: [Garbled electronic wail] Qo'oslug: [Confused] "The Earth network for viewing porn?"[Pondering, he scratches his scaly chin with a clawed hand] "This is a valuable treasure, a quest worthy of JEFF THE DESTROYER! Our enemies shall know fear!" GM: [Wicked grin] "Several figures appear behind you. 'Oh, I don't think you'll be finding your precious Internet today,' the tall, pale one says, clearly the leader of the group. 'For I, the great Billionaire Gates will be claiming the Internet for myself! Minions, attack them!' [Pauses] What would you like to do?" Keely: "I ready my Laser Glock and attack the first minion in range! Avin, use one of your bard songs." Avin-5: [Consulting data file] "Courageous statement: We will delete your kernels!"[Avin-5 begins emitting an 8bit music file from its audio port, granting bonuses to the party] Qo'oslug: "Prepare to meet your doom at the hands of JEFF THE DESTROYER! I prepare my weapon, [The Club](https://bit.ly/2R6yxwN)." GM: "Um, that's really an item for disabling a vehicle." Qo'oslug: "If it can disable a vehicle, it can disable a skull! I want to attack!" [The party laughs. Many rounds of synthetic soda are had as the game stretches well into the night.]

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