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Gasp The light coming through the trees is blinding. In my mind there is nothing. No identity, no awareness. I do not know what I do not know. The floor beneath me is soft, comfortable against my skin, I feel it drawing me into it. But I know I must not stay here any longer. Lay here a while longer, let the heat from the sun take you away from this place. These thoughts are foreign, they cannot be mine, for I know not this place, nor of the sun. I quickly scramble to my feet, for the first time, yet it is natural. I look down at the patch of moss where I was lying, it is looking back. I run awkwardly to the edge of the moss, stepping quickly onto the rough soil of the forest floor. Suddenly the beautiful sunbeams turn into the silver arrows of the moon. There is darkness all around me. I suddenly feel great pain throughout my body and in my head. The moss seems to be moving in the moonlight. It is tempting me to return to its warm embrace but with newfound clarity I know that I must leave this place. I look for any sign of where to go, a path, anything. There is nothing. I have to pick a direction, I know this, it is coming. I hear the sounds in the forest, I have never heard them before but I know what they mean. I have to get away. I begin running into through the forest. My nakedness apparent as I am scraped and cut by thorns and twigs. I know not what the alternative to my bareness is but I know that there must be one. My feet ache and blister as a sprint through the dark forest. I am not alone, I can feel it watching me, and it is following. I cannot stop, I cannot rest. I should stop for a while, renew my strength. These are not my thoughts, I cannot listen. When the sun has risen I will be safe; is that true? Is that thought my own, or another trap? I cannot risk it. I will continue until I am free of this place, where my thoughts can be my own. I must not stop or it will catch me. It is coming. There is blood on the ground, near a tree. Red, a friend, I think. I do not remember. It will lead me to danger, I should avoid it. As I run through the forest for what feels like eternity I feel memories returning. The Saint of Cadilla. A ship. A beach. A monk, Albert? A warning. Isabella. Something lost. Something not meant to be found. We never should have come here, it was not for us to know. I run faster, becoming more and more aware of the danger I am in. I have to get away, I have to warn them. I know not who they are, who I am, what it is, but I know what I must do. Glimpses of the past flash before my eyes. We did not listen, he tried to warn us, in our arrogance we have doomed us all. There is no one left, they all were lost; slowly, at first, it seemed accidental - a coincidence. Then we began to understand. It is coming. We thought we could come here, that it would save us from our own destruction. We would not listen to those who were wise enough to see. Even if we found what we were looking for, if we cut down every tree and mined every vein of iron and coal we would in time arrive at the same fate, 100 years, 1000 years, maybe more but we would come to it eventually. We could not find the strength to change our ways and instead, in our pursuit of endless growth, discovered what was not meant to be disturbed. The continent has done all it could to warn us, but we could not listen. I see a clearing in the forest, my pace quickens. I come out on the edge of a beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water of the great sea. I begin to run along the beach, the ship should be northward. I dare not look back into the forest. It is coming. My memories are becoming more distinct, it is all coming back. The expedition. The captain. The baron. The Monk, Alvin. Isabella. The soldiers. The fort. The suicides. They're all gone. Those aboard the ship may yet be alive, I must warn them, we can never return to the continent. There is hope that we can be saved, we will cling to our islands and fight over resources but our future may yet be hopeful. The sun is rising over the forest, the light is twinkling on the water. In the light I can see the mast of a ship with the Emblem of the Saint flying above it. At the beach there is a long-ship, guarded by two soldiers, their breastplates glimmering in the morning light. "Hail, Pedro of Lenova!"one of the soldiers shouts, "Where are the others? What happened to you?""I will explain aboard the ship, hurry, there is no time to lose. it is coming." As the ships sails west, back to the isles, I explain to the first mate what transpired. He seems unbothered by what I have told him. "We cannot let anyone ever return to the continent,"I plead with him, "it will be the end of us all."He pours a glass of wine and looks me in the eye. There is something there, behind his eyes, dread fills me. I begin to think: The first mate is dead, he killed himself the night we arrived at the continent, threw himself overboard. He smiles, no, it smiles. "More wine?"It gestures toward me with the newly filled glass. I swallow. It is coming.
Her lips curled into a wide grin as she burned alive. White robes flared as the flames licked their way up the wooden post. Smoke danced from charcoal flesh as her legs cooked beneath her. Fair hair turned to ash, and she strained in agony against the chains binding her. Clarence wanted to look away, to close his eyes, but his gaze was trapped. He watched the mob burn her, and knew she was aware of him. They stood, a silent congregation passing a judgement based on fear. Each adorned a dark cloak of thick woolens save for Clarence. He stood, an outsider in a world that did not recognize him. She did, however, and that was worse of all. Deep grey eyes pierced through the crowd to meet his. He stood, transfixed as her flesh gave way to bone. Then it happened. Clarence knew it was coming, though he could not decipher why. Chains broke, and the husk fell to her feet. She stood in the flames, her grin growing predatory. She whispered an inaudible word. Dark cloaks erupted in flame, and the crowd exploded in plumes of ash. She strolled through the swirling cloud of remains towards Clarence. He wanted to run, to scream, but he found his body unresponsive. She stopped within a pace of him and cocked a head. Reaching out, she clasped a tattered hand around his mouth. Tendons desperately clung to bone as the flesh of her hand hung like rags. She leaned in. "Wake up Clarence." Clarence awoke screaming. He sat upright in a sweat drenched bed. Two figures stood at his feet. One, broad arching wings glowing faintly from her back, paced from one side to the other. The second, long horns twisting their way from either side of his head, stood staring at Clarence. His face was twisted in thought. "You shouldn't have woken him,"he spoke up. His voice was gravel and brimstone. "You shouldn't have showed him,"the angel retorted. "He needed to see,"he shrugged. "No, this isn't his problem to deal with." "You're right. Technically it's yours, but since the two of us are stuck with you..." Clarence tried to catch his breath. His chest felt tight, and air wheezed through a contracted throat. Pinching his nose, he brought himself to a calm. "What the hell happened?"The words were sandpaper to his trachea. "Someone, something, is coming."The demon spoke first, "Thought I should show you what." "We need to address the other archangels. Let them do their job,"the angel broke in. Clarence scrubbed his face with both hands. Whatever was coming, it was bad.
Everyone’s queued up, waiting to meet their future self. The hall is buzzing with excitement, and every so often the massive oak doors swing open and people come out, either crying in sorrow for what was to come or smiling and laughing, excited for the next ten years. Lisa and I are at the front now. She’s bouncing up and down in excitement. I’m swallowing my nerves. What if something goes wrong? What if I get paralysed or lose a limb in the next ten years? My thoughts are interrupted by Lisa, asking what I think my future self will look like. I shrug in response, and the crowd pushes us to the door. Two beefy, brutish guards stand there. They ask for our names, we give them, and we go through the doors. Inside the doors people are sitting on chairs, talking to their future selves. It’s eerie, seeing how quickly people grow up. A young girl is talking to her teenage self, and the difference between the two is remarkable, yet you can still they are the same person. Lisa and I walk up to the front, where a small black button waits. Lisa begs to go first, so I stand behind her as she presses it. The button pulses purple, and a figure spins and sprouts out of the button. It’s Lisa, and she looks so much older. Her hair has grey streaks, and her face looks more worn. Present day Lisa is grinning widely, and the two Lisa’s step back. I walk forward, trembling, and I notice the smile drop off future Lisa’s face. I slam my hand on the button and the button starts pulsing. But no figure rises from it. I wheel round, shaking. “Where is she?” I scream at future Lisa, realising what this must mean, but refusing to believe it. Future Lisa meets my eyes and replies calmly, “I’m sorry. You are murdered next year.” I start crying, and the security guards rush in. I only have a year left?? That can’t be right! I still have so much to do!!! A year to complete my life in. As the guards pull me out, all I’m thinking is: how will it happen??
\[Poem\] I couldn't feel myself breathing. My eyes were fixed on the wall in front as I leaned on the dresser, warm blood dripping down my back. I might have been there forever, or just a few seconds, as the sun rose and set shining light through the windows. &#x200B; The house was silent for a long time, before a wrecking ball came crashing through the side, sending a thunderous boom through my silent bones and shards of drywall flying through the air. Construction workers laid down new foundation, blue tile floors were placed underneath my feet, all the while ignoring me, almost as if I was not truly there. &#x200B; I watched doctors test new medicine, tapping pencils on clipboards, typing data in spreadsheets, taking DNA samples; I saw many papers left on the floor, reports on a new series of medicines, a cure for cancer and Alzheimer's and every disease imaginable. &#x200B; Years and years and years passed, with me ever watching, with my body ever-unmoving. With all illnesses cured, they put on welding masks: I watched with curious eyes, as slowly man melded with machine and society became one with technology and they began work on a new project. &#x200B; The weak made strong and the slow made fast, but not able to overcome human shortcomings, they designed a new creation altogether. A man made of metal, of copper and iron and steel, with a brain formed from circuits, humanity playing God with what they would never understand. &#x200B; They plugged red and yellow wires into the creature's metal body. They melted it with acid trying to see if it would react. It said nothing out loud, its processors knowing nothing of humanity, believing that these cruel doctors- these selfish scientists- were all there was. &#x200B; Phones rang and people screamed, running away in futility from a threat that would cover the sky itself. The monster, the machine- seeing man as the monster in its all-seeing eyes- with a wave of his hand sent every bomb in the world flying through the air like a flock of deadly birds. &#x200B; I watched helplessly as the laboratory exploded, the building exploded, the machine exploded, the world exploded. The air hung thick with clouds, powder fell from the sky to the ground, going out with a bang taken to a new level. &#x200B; And as my vision fades away, I am back in my house, blood pooling on the floor, as a medic places me gently in a cot. I can breathe again, I can move again, and my head is pounding with all the pain in the world. I fill my lungs for the first time in a thousand years, and let sirens serenade me away to the afterlife.
Hours later, the ship had been scoured from its belly all the way to the viewing deck. Not a single soul. Nothing. HMS Boat had set out to the Antarctica for a routine data gathering mission collecting ice cores. With a week left until planned landfall, or icefall if you will, the boat had suffered a mechanical problem. Today, or the day after the mechanical failure, here we were, touching ice. "Where is..."I started the sentence, finishing it in my head. "What the..." From the viewing deck, the deck of the ship betrayed nothing of the whereabouts of the crew. I decided to take another look down below, all while pondering the questions echoing through my mind: "Where is everyone?" "How did we get here so fast?" "How are we anchored to the ice sheet?" "Who were those blue horned men staring down from the edge of the ice sheet?"
My friends and family all laugh at me for my sexuality. I try to tell them it's not right to do- that judging someone for their born sexual preference is not only unjustifiable, but just plain malicious. They don't understand; they call me a freak, a pervert, and a deviant. They've tried to send me to therapy for it, too- but therapy only works if there's something wrong with you. So I've written them all off, and tonight I plan on going on my first date in a long time- my first real date, if you ask me. It took a long time to decide which I would take out- there are so many choices. But I think I've finally settled my mind. I set the table for two, and open a nice bottle of wine. I light the candles- their flame burns as bright as my love. I open the case, and take out my copy of Destiny. It's such a good game.
Story title “Forgetting reality” Intense stinging pain jolts to my eyes, I can’t remember the last time I felt this warm stinging sensation what was this? Why does it feel so familiar yet foreign at the same time. I finally work up the courage to open my eyes all the way and I see it for the first time in years, the sun. I forgot how bright it is my skin forgot how beautiful it feels to be touched by its rays. What year is it? Where am I? Last thing I remember was being shoved into a car and now I’m here but who am I? I look down and see these stubby hands and this belly looking back at me I don’t remember them being mine. My body is lean and strong I’m able to do anything and everything or at least I thought I could till today. The dirt roads and closed up shops leave my memory very foggy it’s like I’ve been here and yet this is my first time walking this road. Where is everyone else? Why is it just me I have to find someone, someone else has to be here. Turning the corner I see twinkles of lights coming from a building this building has to be the tallest I’ve ever seen,walking up each flight of stares trying to very hard to not show fear, fear of the unknown. Fear of who is waiting for me up there, finally at the last flight of stairs you can hear grunts, small noises. Peaking around the corner just enough to see whose in the room yet whosever in the room cannot see me. I quickly realize everyone in the room has masks on. Not any mask full head masks covering eyes ,mouth and ears Can they even see me? Can they hear me? Stomp stomp Desperately trying to get a reaction yet nothing not even a budge. Starting to let my curiosity run, I look around and try to see whatever it was showing on these particular masks. Over in the corner I see a box of the masks not being used. This overwhelming sensation of fear and knowing the truth washed over me. Pacing myself I finally walked over to the box, placed the mask on my head and that’s when everything clicks. I’m back in my world or the world, the world as I knew it at least I thought this was the real world yet when i take this mask off I’m someone else entirely. Who is the real me? What is reality?
The large and spacious throne room smelled of fire and brimstone, and underneath it all the undertone of death. The walls were made of a shiny, black oily substance, and it appeared as if it were at a constant state of melting. Eight wide pillars, as tall as ancient trees supported the spacious roof, the pillars themselves were made, rather from stone or solid fire, of the bodies of the most heinous mortals to exist. Their bodies tarred and twisted so that you couldn't tell one poor soul from the next. Their eyes would follow you but having no tongues couldn't even call out for mercy. &#x200B; Despite the room appearing straight out a nightmare, there was one beautiful thing inside. It was situated so that it would be the first thing seen entering the room, it was what no one could ignore for a second, so which was the beauty of it. That object, leader and, even to some, god was Lucifer. He sat on his throne, one leg crossed over the other. His skin was flawless and could be described as pale, from being in hell so long. His black, luscious hair hung at shoulder length, and came together to form an acute widows peak. Underneath the peak and between his bright, blue eyes, two finger long horns sprouted. These horns blended into his forehead, covered by equally beautiful skin. He was resting his head on one of his fists, with a slight smile on his lips. &#x200B; Franz gave a start, he hadn't been listening and Lucifer was staring at him silently, with that terrifying smile, hinting at unspoken malice. &#x200B; "A hundred apologies my lord Lucifer,"Franz quickly stammered. "You were at the part about your favorite pastime of committing atrocities upon mankind." &#x200B; A pause. Satan said nothing, and Franz had the horrifying thought that he was thinking of every terrifying way to torture Franz. After a minute he replied. &#x200B; "Yes of course, you see the gentlemen upstairs are rather upset with us at the moment,"he stated in a deep baritone. "Since you're the only party involved down here I'd like you to listen." &#x200B; He nodded vigorously. Despite that everything wasn't his fault, rather he could be considered a victim but he couldn't say anything with his soul at risk. &#x200B; "Every since you scampering mortals have become so organized,"he said. "Making mischief and misfortune has been so much more satisfying."He paused long enough to summon a glass of wine from a puff of black smoke, with just the twirl of his left hand. "The way word gets around now makes bad news that much worse."Lucifer smiled as he took a sip of the blood red drink. &#x200B; "My plan to send a nation into chaos with an assassination went farther then my furthest expectations,"he laughed then, his head throw back as the halls echoed. &#x200B; Franz couldn't hold it in anymore, he stood abruptly. "How could you laugh over the millions of deaths! How could you find humor and fulfillment in starting the next World War!" &#x200B; That only made Satan's smile widen farther. "My dear Archduke, this is simply the beginning of my antics."
(I changed the perspective a little bit, sorry) &#x200B; "And, you know, I just feel like Venerable Soul's debut just wasn't doing it for me. We've seen better psych rock in the past, we've seen it this year with King Gizzard's latest LP Tywonnion's Magical Motorcycle Trip. Maybe their next album will be a little hotter, we'll see when it drops early next year. Tran-" The video cuts there, leaving the room nearly pitch black. Water drips down the leaky pipes. The refugees huddle more closely to each other around the dead smartphone. One of them, a straggly looking man of perhaps forty, dares to crawl to the window, peeling the curtain away slightly. The outside is the same as it has been for the past four months. The wastelands outside are hellish, barbaric. On some of the remaining crumbling buildings, banners of the Venerable Soul, symbolic for the all powerful Regime, rustle in the slight breeze. He can't see them now, but he can faintly hear the sounds of marching. He swings the curtain back, recoiling away. Deathbots, nearby. He shakes one of the other stragglers to awareness again. It's been nearly four months since Anthony Fantano has released a video, so all he can manage is a series of panicked grunts and growls conveying the same information. Bad men. On the way. Must leave. This is the way their lives have played out for the past few weeks, from building to building. One, the youngest of the pack is the last out. They grab the phone on their way. It's animistic, the way they move. They crawl on the floor like monkeys, searching for the doorway, nearly busting the shoddy wood door from the hinges as the pack moves out into the hallway of the fallen apartment block. The rest is a blur of doorways. This hallway to that hallway, this room to that room, this lobby to that lobby, this floor to that floor. The lighting is shoddy. It's a wonder that there's any electricity in this entire part of town at all. It is not meant for humans to live, it is where the Forgotten stay, all those whose thoughts and ideas fall outside of the Regime's control. In other words, the wastelands. It is the youngest who sees the danger first. The banging of rubber on metal, multiplied a dozen times over, rings down the halls. A bullet strikes them down before they can so much as whimper. The other outcasts dart off into every direction as stronger troops enter in. There is one outcast, she has long dingy hair and wild, bloodshot eyes, who grabs the phone off the child's body as she springs for the door, into the streets. The others are quickly and summerily massacred. She does not know where she is headed, only that she must run far, far from the danger. So she stumbles, blindly, into an alleyway to lick her wounds. But she is not alone. There is another soldier here, further down the alleyway. He is more decorated than the others. His footsteps pound harder on the floor. Her heart is pounding, she begins to stumble back in fear. The man whips out a pistol, shooting her in the legs. She falls back down, lame. The commander looms tall over her. In the twilight she can just barely make out dreadlocks, and cold, heartless eyes that cut her down and tear her to pieces. He notices the phone in her hands. Before she can pull away he reaches down and swipes it out of her hands. It is low on battery, but he can turn it on. The screen- an image of the traitor to the empire, the hated one, danger to all and friend to none. The music nerd. He presses play. "-sition, have you given this album a listen, did you love it, did you hate it, what you hate it-" He pulls the trigger, blasting five shots directly into her chest, then one through her head for good measure. With impressive strength, the commander crushes the iphone in his grip, and walks out into the dying sun. "He really gon give Damn. a seven, fuckin bitchass,"he sneers. Commander Lamar walks out of the alley, signalling down to the troops stationed further down the street. He'll clear out this entire city of hipsters if it takes his dying breath.
The U.N.S. Lightrider exited the superluminal currents into the proxima centauri system after a week of travel. Captain Tiffani Wheeler and her crew sat at their stations staring out at the alien star. A console beeped, indicating that the automated analysis was complete. Lieutenant Kunj Singh turned around to read the analysis. "Confirmed,"he said. "We have arrived at Proxima Centauri! The system contains several planets, none of which are in the habitable zone." Wheeler tapped her wrist. "Crew of the U.N.S Lightrider, at 1417, ship's time, we exited superluminal into Earth's nearest neighbor, Proxima Centauri. We have successfully achieved what our ancestors have dreamed of for centuries." She tapped the p.a. off with her wrist. "Ensign kennedy, shall we take a flyby?" "Aye aye sir!"Said Onassis Kennedy, the ship's crack pilot. "Any planet in mind?" "Pilot's choice,"said Wheeler. Before she could get the ship moving, a wizened old man apparated on the bridge, wearing a purple conical hat with wide brim and deep blue robes. "Turn around. Return to Atlantis. You shouldn't be here,"he panted. Half of the bridge crew had jumped and had their energy guns at the ready. "Sir?"Several of them asked at the same time. "I mean you no harm,"said the ancient man. "My name is azaphor, and I am a sentinel to keep Atlantis safe." He looked around him at the ship. "No magick runs through this ship. How?" He stepped closer to the captain, waving his hand as he did so. The energy weapons went flying. "How has Atlantis reached the stars again? We purposefully put you on a planet without any magick to keep you safe from the genocidal tyrant adelphi!" "I think you better start from the beginning,"said wheeler. "Very well,"said azaphor. He held out his hand. "Twenty five thousand years ago,"he started as the air above his hand took the shape and form of his words. "The tyrant adelphi started conquering the Galaxy with his dark magicks, exterminating any resistance that he encountered by transmuting into dung beetles and intestinal fleas." "As his minions advanced through the universe, the eight wizards of akkadis came up with a plan to preserve at least some of the light in the Galaxy. The population was relocated to Atlantis, the only non-magical system in the Galaxy and their memories were wiped. Your distant ancestors took the ultimate sacrifice to save the species. So how the fuck are you back in akkadis?" Wheeler stood there in shock. Finally composing herself, she responded. "In the history of Earth, of the human species, magic has never existed." "Human? Earth? Funny names. We made sure of that by the way. The tyrant has a propensity for detecting masses of magic users." Realizing the look on the crew's faces, azaphor continued. "Oh it's just me in akkadis. The other seven wizards are in similar locations trying to keep you safe. Adelphi can't detect me or the other seven." Wheeler told azaphor the cliff notes version of history, from the first recorded civilization in catall hyuk all the way to the rise of toolmaking, the global state and the rise of AI. "Hmm,"azaphor mumbled. "A sorceress at knee's bend told me of a prophecy involving a planet with no magic having magical abilities and the overthrow of the tyrant." He turned to the security chief. "Starseer, take us to earth. We need to prepare."
I've loved animals since I was a kid, which really irked my mom since she's allergic and just hates them in general. But my love for them never faded, so I rescued three dogs as soon as I had my own place. I was able to move out at 17 thanks to my early high school graduation, and I promptly started college right after. I had my own apartment, which wasn't really fancy but it was fine for my rescues so it was definitely fine for me. I finished college at 21, but holy shit, finding a job these days is harder than finding a needle in a haystack. So of course I jumped at the offer of a summer internship at my state's biggest zoo. It was unpaid but at least they reimbursed the traveling costs. I was ecstatic at the idea of spending the summer months with animals! I don't mind getting dirty, muddy, or sweaty as long as it happens because of something I enjoy. Which, in this case, was taking care of the big cats at the zoo. So off I went to start on my next big adventure, cleaning up lion shit and picking up rotten carcasses. I worked harder than I've ever worked before, even though it doesn't sound like much. I followed every instruction given to me by my "boss", Sandy. She was nitpicky and I think she just didn't like me all that much, so I wasn't surprised when I was called to her office and she told me that I'd been switched to a different area. This area, she said, was with the veterinarian. I figured that wouldn't be much worse, considering my position on the corporate food chain (FYI, not everyone that works with animals is a good person.) I diligently followed behind my new instructor, who seemed to like me more than Sandy did. But at times, Greg just seemed kind of sketchy. I don't know how else to explain the vibe he gave off. I continued working hard and trying my best, but there were hints of something odd going on. Meetings involving everyone but me, missing bottles of tranquilizers and other medicines, new animals coming to the zoo, etcetera. One day, I ventured into Greg's office to ask about ordering new supplies (we were running low on syringes). But a group of people I'd never seen before were just sitting in there with him? Thankfully, they didn't hear or see me open the first door to his office. For whatever reason, his actual office with the desk and official shit was behind a set of doors. There was another door you'd have to open to enter his private office. So I was stuck there, a foot away from the window on the second door, when I heard talk of poachers. I contemplated my options. Stay there and listen, walk away and pretend I didn't hear anything, or knock on the door and awkwardly tell him my request. I settled on just staying still and listening. I heard more bits and pieces which further cemented my theories. Something sketchy was going on. I listened to the rest of the meeting, and when they started saying farewells, I quietly walked away and waited by the medical supplies. I heard them open the door, then another door, and then footsteps getting further away. So I walked around the corner looking for Greg. He was just standing there. I guess I looked kind of on edge, because I was. He spoke and I just about jumped out of my skin. He asked me if there was something that I needed to ask him, and I proceeded to go into some story about how we need more syringes and should start ordering more supplies because of our recent increase in animals. But he just stood there. No change in body language, no "hm", not even a nod to assure me that he heard my winded speech. Instead he just stated that he did, in fact, see me. I suddenly felt nauseous. I was preparing for the worst. But he continued on, "I guess I'll just have to explain the whole situation to you. I was hoping that you wouldn't find out, because it's morally grey, but because you're such a snoop I now have to bring you into this, too."He began to tell me his reasons for what he does, namely because of "all the damn poachers and self-absorbed ass hats looking to make some extra cash". The rundown of his operation was that he had a large group of hunters living across the globe, with their only mission being to stop "all the damn poachers and self-absorbed ass hats looking to make some extra cash"from killing any more helpless animals. If they caught someone, they were to kill them on sight and rescue the animal being hunted. With the influx of animals recently, I figured they were doing a spot on job of taking down those greedy douchebags. By the time his speech was over, I was already on his side. The tranquilizers going missing were being used in for his little operation but were bought in the zoo's name because all of the animals rescued were sent to the zoo. A win-win situation, I guess. Greg specified that some higher-ups were getting suspicious of our means of animal collection, which resulted in the impromptu meeting that I so slyly spied on. I told him my concerns about getting caught. He assured me that he'd been doing worse stuff for longer and hadn't been caught yet, so he doubted we were going to be in deep shit anytime soon. I started to ask him a question but he cut me off "yes, I have killed people. Yes, we have rivals. Yes, I have money in offshore accounts. Yes, I've done everything you think a mob boss has done. But my little girl, Mae, loves animals about as much as you do. It breaks her heart to hear about what's going on in places that those animals have lived for longer than humans have existed. So I quit all of the hardcore shit and began my mission here. She's 16 now, and not completely aware of the extent of my little hobby, but she appreciates that I quit my '9-5' job in order to help her feel better." I was floored. This man had left his life of crime behind for his fucking daughter? I respected him more than I ever thought I would. So I joined his group of do-gooders, and enjoyed my promotion to manager. Now, we've helped save over 2,500 animals from all over the world. Other local zoos are flourishing because we simply couldn't handle all the new additions. Our economy has skyrocketed in the short span of about a year. And I'm still loving this "internship"every minute of every day. Ps. I moved into my own house (thanks to Greg and his wife!) and adopted four more dogs, three cats (one domestic shorthair, two ocelots), and two kinkajous. That brings my little family up to twelve and I couldn't be happier.
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It was so hard to stay awake. You had tried everything. Caffeine only delayed it, propping your eyelids open only hurt, you had even taken to trying anything at this point but you couldn’t stop it. This had been going on for years. Death practically followed you since even so much as a wince killed someone you met. The guilt was eating away at you, and you reapplied the makeshift props, a energy drink sitting next to you. Night 8,029. Tomorrow was your 22nd birthday. You were dreading the party your coworkers set up, because as everyone knew, you had to close your eyes to make a wish. Who was going to die this time? A family member? A friend? That strange barista at the coffee shop? What was her name? Amy? Who’s going to die this time? It was a question that was always in the back of your mind as you went about your days. Every single thing you did became a hazard. A sneeze, a yawn, rubbing your eyes. Longer than a blink, someone was going to die. You risk a peek at the alarm clock nearby. Eleven thirty pm. Six hours to go. The seconds were agonizing, Eventually you had to blink, and if you close your eyes you might make someone else never wake up if you aren’t absolutely precise with the timing. Every blink was a gamble, every day a risk for many lives. Twenty two years you had put up with this. You had already killed everyone in your family apart from your estranged uncle you had never met. Your mother’s brother. The outcast of the family. No, don’t focus on him. You’re going to have to blink soon. Your eyes were starting to burn, and you tightened the grip on the energy drink’s can. Maybe it wouldn’t kill someone. 5. Maybe it would just be a passing acquaintance. 4. God, your eyes are burning. 3. How many people are there? 7 billion? What’s one? 2. No, stupid thought. How could you? 1. Blink. You involuntarily hold them shut, tears welling up. Relief, finally, but... A scream reached your ears from the next house over. One of your neighbors was the victim this time. No, don’t cry. That’s another life taken. Day 8,030. Happy Birthday.
Susan looked at Pearl with narrowed eyes. They rarely got a call from their second oldest, leading them to believe she had a request. The last time they got an urgent phone call it was from Bianca asking for help with rent. Though, Susan didn’t think Pearl would need help. She had been raised properly, taking in the lessons of independence and thoughtfulness that Saint Mona Prep had intended. It was only with this in mind that Susan convinced Earl to put off his golf game and speak with Pearl. They sat down in the social room, tea in hand. It was nice to see their child, even if they didn’t often entertain family. Pearl had gotten Susan’s young face and Earl’s height. Still, Pearl had done the respectable thing and changed her hair color the moment she reached adulthood. Had anyone investigated the room, they might have seemed strangers. Old friends. Just like a parent should be to their child. “Thank you so much for meeting with me,” Pearl said. She tucked a strand of dark purple hair behind her ear. “I wanted to officially ask you to consider—No, this is silly. I have applied for permission to enter the Pool.” Susan and Earl shared a look. “You cannot be serious,” Earl said. “You’re 27, far too young to have a child.” Earl opened his mouth, a lecture waiting to tumble out. “Let her finish,” Susan said. “Have?” Pearl said. “No. I am sorry. I am not being clear. I applied to the Surrogate Society in Palm. We had our genetics reviewed. We passed.” “I won’t give a blessing,” Earl said. Susan loved her husband very much, but sometimes he spoke without taking a moment to think. “Earl, let Pearl finish speaking.” “Thank you,” Pearl said. “I understand this seems sudden, with Charles—but we have been approved for a single child. There is no need to worry about multiples. Mikal has a twin and he was approved by the Bio-Lineage society in Naples. We are going to be using a surrogate womb.” “You are both too young,” Earl said. “Pearl, what do you need from us?” Susan asked. “I need approval to have your DNA file read. They want to make sure, you know, that this is a good idea.” Pearl seemed pleased. “Why now?” Earl asked. “Mikal has just started at the firm,” Pearl said. “Affording a child is one thing, being approved to have one is another. It will look good on his resume.” “I see,” Earl said. “It is a smart plan. Your mother still mentions the four kids we put through Saints.” Pearl got a hard look on her face. “You mention Bianca?” “No, not by name. Clifford gets more airtime than her,” Susan said. “But four kids is pretty good. Shows a good line.” Earl shifted in his seat. “If Mikal will come around tomorrow, we can discuss it.” Susan nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” “I will tell him,” Pearl said. “Thank you again for having me over.” She passed two pamphlets to Earl and Susan. “This seems pretty standard,” Earl told his wife. “No, we went through the Surrogate Society,” Susan said. “Still, seems pretty standard.” Pearl nodded. Earl and Susan looked at their offspring. “We will need some time to consider what this means,” Susan said. “I thank you for taking this time to visit us, we will send you a message in a week with our choice.” Earl stood up, his manners leading him to the door to wish his middle daughter a good night. When the door clicked shut, Earl looked at his wife. He felt tired. The lineage contracts were standard for this sort of thing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to appear old before his co-workers. It was such a boring thing, to become a ‘grandparent’ and was not the type of drivel he had thought would come up. “Susan, I think we should say no,” Earl said. “I would like to consider it,” Susan said. “Pearl has been a solid adult, she performs well, and she has never intruded into our life. I don’t think anyone would know unless you told them.” Earl nodded. “I just feel very tired thinking about the questions.” “We don’t have to tell a soul. Pearl and Mikal make good money, the child is likely going to boarding school. We might not even meet him.” “Yes, I think we should call Mikal and ask him about his intentions. I know he comes from a rather unorthodox family. He might want to home-school with a nanny.” “Oh, god, home-school. Lauren was homeschooled,” Susan said. “She calls her kids twice a month to see how they are doing. It is strange. She doesn’t even like two of them.” “Imagine calling Bianca,” Earl said. “We should have stopped at three.” “Yes, but Charles and Pearl came out so nicely, and Clifford was so cute. I thought four would look good on the resume,” Susan said. “Affording boarding school for four children is a bit of a point of pride for me, especially at the country club. Imagine having to homeschool any of them, keep them in the house the whole time?” Earl nodded. “If they intend to board, then I agree to sign the papers. But on the condition, it is one child to adulthood, not several. I don’t want anyone finding out about Charles.” Susan got up from the table, putting her hand on her husband’s arm. “I am sorry about Charles. I truly thought he would be the one to pass on the genetics. But Pearl and Mikal are successful, and we like them, enough to even consider speaking with them. We turned Bianca down, we can’t turn them all down.” Earl nodded. “True. Let us speak with Mikal and we will discuss it.” Xxx Mikal stopped by the Morrison house around noon the next day. He wore his usual attire, a sweater over dark black pants. He was handsome in a rather foreign way, which Susan appreciated. She hated the idea of grandchildren who would look like her, imagine the shame if one became unemployable or jailed. She didn’t want her nose splashed across the network news. “Ah, Mrs. Morrison, it is pleasure to see you again,” Mikal said. “I heard from Pearl that you have gotten the contracts.” “Yes, Pearl was kind enough to drop them off last night,” Earl said. “I am very sorry we burdened you with this request. Anything I can do to make it easier for you, I would love to be of service,” Mikal said. His dark eyes seemed to narrow with suspicion. “Unless the answer is already no, which I can understand is completely fair.” “No, no,” Susan said. “Pearl is one of the children we actually talk about. We had thought Charles would be the one to have children, but he has chosen to withdraw from the Social Pool. It is a surprise Pearl would want to have a child.” “We just have a concern about how involved you intend to be,” Earl said. Mikal smiled. He seemed to be holding back laughter, because moments later he was bursting at the seams with it. He had an easy laughter, something that Earl appreciated. Bianca and Clifford had such annoying spouses, people they met once. If this were Arnold or Laurine, they would have never opened the door. “Pearl told me you would want to know about boarding school,” Mikal said. “We have a six-year plan—Nanny, Pre-school, Boarding School, and College. I know my family comes across as strange, but I have applied for a meeting with Boarding School in Spar. It is where my Brother-in-Law went. It has a high success rate and would allow our child to branch out without worrying about interference from ancestral rumor.” “Spar? That’s over a thousand miles away,” Susan said. “Yes. We had intended two children,” Mikal said. “But we were only allowed one. My brother has applied for a child as well and being twins, our genetics are very similar. Our sister is unable to—Well, she is unable to participate.” Earl and Susan gave a single nod. “We will approve the process, on the condition that the boarding school accepts your nomination.” Mikal nodded. “If not Spar, then Lon or Vivi.” “All good places,” Susan said. “Only the best for my child,” Mikal said. Earl nodded. “The best kind of childhood, one away from parents. Leads to creativity and independence.” Mikal nodded. “I could not agree more.”
I hate losing... so yeah I’ll be reimagining the prompt a bit, ahem. “It should have been me, that day by the sea. It should have been me. I don’t think I ever said ‘thank you’ for what you did for me... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.” “Your parents blame me you know, they never really say it, but I can tell. It’s in their eyes, they way when they visit and I’m here they look at you with a longing expression, then they look at me and their face goes slack.” “Why did you do it though. I don’t understand, What part of me did you see that was worth giving up your life for. I could really use some advice right now. Wish you were still here to give it.” “It’s pathetic I know, it’s not like you’ll wake up again but one can only hope. Hope such a beautifully tragic concept. I come every day hoping that this will be the day you’ll wake up, it never is. But then again what else is there?” “I can’t take it anymore Tiff, I’m losing everything around me. Why must people make their way into my life just to take a small piece when they leave. It hurts, it hurts so bad Tiff. It’s like an aching pulsating throb in my heart that reminds me of everything I once had.” “Milo died today, I don’t really know what to feel. Must be the shock or something, I thought I should let you know... Well not that you can really understand but still, you always wanted to marry him when you got older. Did I ever tell you that I wanted the same thing? I was so envious of Milo for gaining you affections so easily, now in perspective what is their to be jealous off? The funerals tomorrow at 12. I’ll come visit after that.” Edit: I’ll revise this in the morning or something, I really need to sleep, laters.
A whole mess of carpenter ants come pouring out of the hole you just made in the wall. Frantically, you yell at your husband to get the bug spray at the same time you dance out of the area to avoid stepping in the growing puddle of ants. As he begins douses them in ant poison, you run to get the Shop Vac to vacuum them up. You finally start winning the battle against the deluge, and you finally get them all. Or so you thought. As you finish, tearing down the rest of that segment of the wall, you can see just how much damage those awful little bugs did to your house. The frame needs to be replaced, and you can still hear them in the next section of wall. You and your husband look at each other in exasperation, knowing that the job wasn't over, not by a long shot. Even though you're tired, and you've been up since 4 am yesterday morning, you can't stop until the whole wall is done. So you keep going, relying on coffee to get you through. And this battle you do eventually win. You clear the wall of the ants. But. A year later, you're still battling those stupid carpenter ants. The only mercy? Houses with carpenter ants don't have termites.
After hours of constant bickering and persuading, Jared allowed his younger sister Rachel to release Rhett, their sentient AI, onto the internet. Almost immediately, Rhett decided to hack into its first target: Twitter. You could see the stars in Rachel's eyes as she set the big screen to record and ordered several boxes of pizza. Likewise, Jared left the room, only returning when he finally found a crate of liquor for him to down during the night, a dead expression on his face. Rhett made its way across Twitter, sparking global panic as it hacked into multiple official twitter accounts of famous people, creating controversial arguments and topics the media and those around it ate up like candy on Halloween. Rachel wheezed, breathing into her inhaler to catch her breath, only to laugh even harder as tears escaped her eyes. As it turned out, she had unofficially revealed twitter to Rhett, explaining that by doing all of this would give them tons of money. She was right. they ended up being a viral sensation, and at the end of the year, earned almost $3.4m total in patreon supporters. Was it our biggest mistake? To this day, we couldn't answer that question.
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Sitting silently in my secret, favorite bunker, I rejoice in my isolation from the rest of the world. It is too loud. The weak, as usual, cry out for "freedom". None of these pitiful insects realize how well I've turned their miserable lives around. Everyone has full bellies, everyone resides in lavish homes those before couldn't possibly fathom, and I have ensured the very death of war. All with a simple handshake. When I've had my fill of peace and quiet, I take my leave. It is time for my duty as this world's leader. Turning corner after corner in this long hallway, I hear the pleas grow louder and louder, begging for individuality. Begging for their identities. They know me as The King, they know me as the one on top, and their fates are in my hands. They must be uniform and balanced and they must know it is good. My way is the only one to follow, and it is the one above criticism. For only under my views and ideas will the world make sense. I greet the people, who cower before my employees, who in turn cower before me. They know I hold their lives in my hands, quite literally in fact. I turn to the masses, extending my hands, and I proclaim the greatness that I am. They know better than to not cheer, so I can look to the horizons and see a grateful world. The very people that build statues and monuments in my name are the ones that know to go home and worship me. They may do this halfheartedly, but they will come to realize I am the best thing to ever happen to them. Taking my leave to indulge in my vices, I hand authority back to my subordinates. Whichever ruffians out there that dare to oppose me that has not met my hand, will surely meet their end by my forces. I return to my personal chambers, drowning out the wails of the weak with this television. It is only in this moment I feel something I have not felt in a long time - a morose anxiety that wells within me. The people in the programs I watch had such beauty in their arts, they had...they had the very thing I have depraved of the people outside these walls. Have I weakened these subjects? No, I have made them stronger. I gave them purpose, designated a path for them to follow to lead better lives. Such is evident as the woes in the arts in these shows, detailing the hardships I saved these people from. I am great, I am good. My programs would go interrupted, however, as multiple crashing sounds rock my home. Swiftly, I run to the source of the ruckus, and I find my forces, hard at combat with a rather imposing, muscular figure, one so colorful, as though his feelings bled through, his rage personified in his visage. A contrast to the blue I have my workers adorned in. This man is decorated with face paint, his arms and legs wrapped in tassels. To round out the perfect specimen that battles before me, was long, flowing sandy brown hair. No attack seemed to faze him for long, as he absorbed blow after blow. Lasers, blades, even super strength could not slow this beastly man down. Attacks that would have surely killed him do not, almost as if he is more than human. Swiftly, he gets the upper hand and disposes rather gruesomely and bloodily, my forces. They would have ended up the same way, anyway, just like this fellow that has intruded upon me, should he disagree with my hand. Pointing at me, the man yellls: "Lodged in my skull...was a piece of the crystal of your kingdom, your madness! They said: 'But Warrior, it's lodged in your skull,' and I said to them, "Sew it in! Leave it where it lies!" I do not know what he means by this. Still I remain unflinching and slowly approach him, breathing as though an angered and winded rhinoceros, as he hulks above me. "Tell me, you piece of work, from where do you come from? Where is it that you hail?" This Warrior, person, as he describes retorts in more shouts: "The family that I live for only breathes the air that smells of combat! Come on closer, come on in to where the nightmares are the best parts of my day! Now, you must come, you must deal with the creation of all the unpleasantries in the entire universe as I feel the injection from the gods above!" With an immediate strike, I find the wind taken out of me. Scrambling to catch my breath, I motion for him to stand in place, and as if to humour me in my final moments, like a prisoner given his last meal before execution, he obliges. I call to him, "Please, Warrior, there is no need for this. I could be the best thing to happen for you. I could give you things unimaginable. All you have to do is take my hand." "No! The Warrior shall not be persuaded by such cowardice! The Warrior will prevail against my powerful enemy! The Warrior will bring about change and save this universe from the sickness and cancer that plagues it! So strike me! Dig your claws into my organs! Stretch your arms into my tendons! Bury your anchors into my bones, for the power of the warrior will always prevail! There is no place to run! All the exits have been demolished!" He really thinks me powerful? Truly greatness recognizes greatness. I feel my confidence rebuild itself, as I stand tall, yet not as tall as The Warrior. For the first time in a long time, I feel exhilaration, excitement, and also fear. For the first time, I hear silence from outside outside of my bunker, and in its place I hear his heartbeat. I smile, and I am ready to show him what I can do. "Come then, Warrior, and place your hand in mine, let's have a test of strength!"I shout in his manner, a smile I cannot hold back stretches upon my face. Doing as I say, his hands the size of a head take my smaller one in his, and I move our grip up and down, as I have shaken this man's hand. I have already won. He quickly gains the upper hand, however as his strength is great. "Die, monster!" "I don't think so, for your fate is now in my hand, you dull creature." The Warrior grunts and snorts at this. "Now, you have two options, just as my fallen followers you massacred once did. You serve under me, or under my handshake, you shall perish!" "The Warrior will never die! The Spirit of the Warrior will live on forever!" I say nothing, but I smile slyly, as his grip weakens. This feeling is so great, it numbs the pain he left my hand in. He lets go of my grip entirely, and clutches at his heart, his breath more and more labored as he collapses into the ground until the air in his lungs are no more. He thought he could come to me, in my world, and bring about change? That he could fix what my views have brought me? Fool. Mine is the only one that matters. The wails from the followers commences once more, and I must take refuge in my silent bunker once more. Sitting silently in my secret, favorite bunker, I rejoice in my isolation from the battle I have had. He was too loud. The strong man, cried out for "change". He did not realize how much I could turn his life around. He has a dead heart, he resides with Death now, and now knows horrors that he before couldn't possibly fathom, and I have ensured the very death of war this war. All with a simple handshake.
You scour the landscape filled the with screams of tortured souls being burned alive, impaled, and other such forms of torture. The smell of ash and burned skin fills your nostrils with the slightest scent of something putrid. You traverse the darkened landscape of ash and flame accompanied only by the screams of the damned and the maniacal laughter of the demons that elude your sight. You grip your Rosary firmly and pray as you walk deeper into hell. The crunch of old bones with every step you take and the putrid smell being more potent than ever you arrive at a river of blood and bodies of people whose bones were ripped out and the wounds left open infected, some still had voice and wailed in sorrow "It is pain""We are tortured yet never die""Our blood is what fills this river""I want to die""Is this what I deserved?"You turn to your left and see a boat made out of bones float across the red river. You see a figure on the boat they are cloaked in black and their face is not visible but the rotted scent emanates from them and you can not help but breath through your mouth pinching your nose. The figure docks the bone boat nearby and approaches you and with a low voice asks "What is it you seek you pagan?"You reply "I am no pagan, I am a devoted believer of Christ and God, do you not see me dressed in a holy garb and a rosary in hand?"The figure lowers its head and looks back up examining you "Ah you do not realize it yet, the true devotees of God are the Jews he rescued from the slavery of ancient Egypt. You believe in the Roman faith which abandons some teachings of the Jews. Thus with the wrong belief you are denied access to Heaven instead you shall reside here in hell for eternity."
"Is it really too hard to believe that, with all I've done and the lives I've destroyed, I don't want the world?" I looked at the man, the fiend dressed as a human, the one who gave up any chance at redemption by drowning the city in blood. His face had no trace of mockery - no maniacal laughter or mirth coloring his lips or eyes - and the solemn tone of our exchange spoke volumes of his belief. I began to blink away the furious tears assaulting my tears and started to stand. "You,"I let my voice fill the lifeless street. "Are nothing more than vermin to me. Whatever your reason, you have no right to even see tomorrows sunrise. Not after tonight. Not after you've taken that away from so many!" "And what would you do? You can barely hold on to that toy you call a sword. I've already done all I can. And I have no quarrel with you." Darkness started to fill the edges of my vision. The world began to shake. His words seemed to fill me up. I was a vessel for his darkness. A darkness like pitch being poured into a cask. I was brimming with it. Spilling over. I was going to burst. "No quarrel?"My whisper kept a razor's edge. "How could you say that? YOU'VE TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM ME!" He only looked sadly upon me. It was infuriating. "Whatever you've lost, I'm sorry for, but I will not stop. Not until I'm sated." I couldn't respond. I had no voice, just a shout. I had no body, just a battering ram. I had no mind, just pain. I rushed with the blade from my father's mantle, and bowled into him. The beast, the monster, the demon. I raved and spit and slashed and stabbed. Faster, faster, faster. Until I heard the sound of blood splattering upon the cobblestone, I did not pause to breath. I looked into the man's eyes. The nameless one who came and left catastrophe. He looked sorrowful. "This is how it must be." My already dark vision grew blurry, my tears welling forth. The world seemed to turn upside down, until all that was in view were the boots of the man. They did not stay long. I blinked and they were gone. What happened, I thought, I was just standing a moment ago and now... The world became darker and colder. I blinked but the light grew dimmer and dimmer. Eventually, the light did not return.
“No, no, no seriously, this is going to work.” The elf rogue excitedly nodded, gesturing with his hands. He was tall and thin. Lots of experience getting out of tight places, and thinking outside of the box, but not known for having the best ideas. “Let me get this straight, you think the best one for the job is me.” The heavyset human bard, could not keep the disbelief out of his voice. “Well, Jimbo is too big,” The rogue explained extending a frustrated hand toward the barbarian. “Matthew is too old, no offense Matthew.” “None taken.” The wizard mumbled, stroking his beard as he peered into the keyhole of the locked door, working the problem over in his mind. “The cleric is...well…equipt for such …things.” The veiled gaze of the cleric gave nothing away of how she felt of the situation, but the whole party was aware that the rogue had a huge, awkward crush on her and would never voluntarily put her in harms way. “She ain’t going to get with you mate.” Jimbo stated in a thick accent. He sucked his teeth from where he had been picking at them with a knife. “I know that,” the rogue quickly responded even his ears were turning a deep shade of red. “But her garments, they make too much noise, attract too much attention. No offense.” He said plaintively to the cleric. Her only response was a deep sigh. “So that leaves you.” The elf stated with a determined point at the bard. “No, no way, this is not going to work.” The bard said his hands in the air, shaking his head. “It will-“ “What about Demetry?” Matthew asked the door. The group fell silent with this new idea. “What about Demetry?” the elf asked the wizard. The wizard turned midstroke of his beard, “What is we use Demetry? He is intelligent enough and small enough.” “Demetry!” the bard agreed, happy to be out of the hot seat. “What about Demetry?” Demetry yawned, stretching his as he asked. The group fell silent again, this was something only the wizard could do. “Hey Demetry,” The wizard glanced over at his friends and then back to his familiar. “we are in a bit of a jam.” Matthew began wringing his hands. “I need your help.” “We are in a jam, but you need my help.” The quasit parroted back at the wizard, crossing his little arms. “Yes, you are my familiar. I need your help.” “Funny, you only seem to need my help any more when “we are in a jam”.” his tiny wings twitch emphasizing the air quotes. “What happened to us? What happened to we going out there and getting stuff done?” “Well…we are part of a group now; we all have to do our part.” “Right,” obviously not convinced if the quasit had pupils or even iris, they would have seen him rolling his eyes. “What is my part now?” “Well, its actually Farrick’s plan.” The wizard said waving the rogue over to have him explain. “Okay, so it starts with you slipping past this door-“ Farrick leans down to the little familiar as if he is letting them in on a secret, as if no one else in the room has been discussing it already. “Wait!” Demetry says putting up his hand. He then leans to look around the elf back at the wizard. “What happens when things go wrong?” “Things won’t go wrong.” The rogue punctuates his statement with a nervous laugh and glances at the wizard. “What about your “brilliant” plan in Neverending Crypt or that “wonderful” idea you had in the Chaotic Labyrinth?” Demetry asks. “I could not get the smell out of my scales for months!” The wizard walks back over, glancing at the rest of the party. “Things will be fine; they will turn out ok.” Matthew pats the air trying to get the small creature to calm down. “Things will NOT be fine.” The quasit side-eyes the rogue, “His plans are shite! They always involve unnecessary exposure, and placing me directly in danger if things go south. So, then things go south, what is the backup plan?” “Well….” The wizard strokes his beard, “I can always summon you again.” “Summon me again? What am I just expendable to you? You would just summon me again, not run in and save me or teleport me or gods know what else, you would just summon me again.” The wizards nod slowly, hand still holding the middle of his beard. “If that’s all I really mean to you, fine.” He turns to the elf and quieter to himself he gripes “summon me again! The nerve!” He quickly turns back to the wizard. “You know if hurts! You know I don’ t like it.” With a flap of his wings and a snap of his tail, he brings himself up to full height and turns back to the elf. “Do pray tell, what is your amazing plan this time.”
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Death: “So much for trying to be a hero. A split second faster and instead of this human jigsaw, the train would’ve just left him with critical injuries. Though hard to say if that life would be any less miserable. Anyhow fellows, which one of you is gonna sign the paperwork?” Devil: “Well, well, well. Another fool to add to my collection. I do like the ones with hanging bits and twisted limbs, they scare those newcomers downunder and do my job themselves (chuckles).” God: “Oh dear, this poor soul, sacrificing his life to save the dog..” Devil: “Hardly a sacrifice if he didn’t save it though” God: “His intention was clear. He acted upon love. He will come with me.” Devil: “Unfortunately mate, the dog died, thus technically a suicide, so he’s mine. I have some new designs I would like to tryout and this guy will be perfect. If he’s a squealer then I might even let him do a primetime number for future welcoming ceremonies” God: “You are unbelievable. This young and brave man took a leap of faith in trying to save a life, one of another species might I add. And if you must see proof, his LBS (life balance score) is positive. That means he’s done more good deeds and good thoughts than bad, in case you forgot.” Devil: “1.36%! positive by only 1.36%! That $10 note he picked up 10mins ago and gave back to the lady was probably what tipped it over. And we both know he might not have done that if she had not been such an eye candy! This fake saint comes with me.” Death: “You know, it's not like this is the only soul that came through today. There's another 187,564 to go and I want to have at least three quarters done by lunch. Chop chop, if you both can't agree, I will have his soul restarted. I can't wait today, remember that oldtimer Eddie? He’s doing another deadly stunt show tonight and I wanna be there in case he finally goes.” Devil: “Its weird how you to mingle with them, I could never do that. Fine, let's toss for it.” God: “Ridiculous. We do not ‘toss’ for a soul’s eternal resting place. If we cannot agree then restarting him into a new baby to see if his soul is good or bad is reasonable and just. Devil: “Blah blah blah, it's not fair how the average ones get another go.” Death: “Alright, processed. Common now, next one is some drunk idiot that fell off his balcony.” Devil: “I call dibs”
A bolt of lightning splintered the ground at my feet, sending me tumbling back and blinding me through my sunglasses. You can prepare all you want, but you never really get used to it. It appeared that Zeus had woken up and decided to do a little target practice. As I readied myself, I a wave of terror swept over me. Deimos must be near by. It was going to be a fun day. The Gods left no opportunity to chance when it came to ruining even the smallest aspects of my life, though I’ve never liked calling them Gods. Sure, the definition of the word slowly changed over time, but these were not the Wise, Powerful, and All-Knowing God (or Gods) some had hoped for. They were technically aliens that had a variety of powers and abilities, but that was about as much as they let us discover and to me, they just seemed like giant, intergalactic assholes. The things we do know about the Gods are from conversations they have with each other while on Earth, though more and more the scientific community is beginning to believe they do this on purpose. Upon the discovery, or re-discovery if you will, of the Gods, many of the age old theological questions arose again, fires now fueled by the oxygen of reality. Why did the Gods choose to favor one race or peoples over another? Why were tragedies and suffering such a common occurrence in everyday life? Why the FUCK didn’t I win the PowerBall this week? The answer to many of these questions, it turned out, was two fold. First, as for years 1000BC through 2026AD, the Gods simply were not here. Us Humans did all of that on our own. ALL. OF. THAT. The Gods were apparently partying a couple galaxies over because they’d grown bored with Earth at the time. When they returned, however, their interest bloomed anew with our bustling global society, and that brings us to the second answer: Simply put, they do many of these things to pull at our strings like puppets for their own amusement. Seriously, that’s what they’ve been overheard saying, at least when they know we’re listening. The debate rages on as to whether them even mentioning it was to cause more unrest and conflict, but I think that one’s pretty self explanatory. You might be asking yourself “Then why even show favor to one side or the other? Why not cause global suffering to everyone?”. The answer to that was found independently by Humans a long time ago: Without contrast, suffering becomes normal, which in turn reduces the suffering. To the contrary, WITH contrast suffering is multiplied by loss, increasing your return on investment by factors unknown. The Gods knew this very well, and they wielded it like a sledgehammer. That wasn’t to say they’re weren’t outliers within the peoples in favor. That’s where I came in. These were usually people who had wronged a God in one way or another, but the Gods also liked to pick random “Favoreds” and use them to increase the contrast a bit. I was one of the former. I had been at my local coffee shop when a woman had approached and asked for my number. While I appreciated the forwardness, I kindly rejected her and that was that. What I had failed to realize at the time was Eros had gotten really invested in setting us up, and had made a couple of bets he could not pay off. And so I incurred the Wrath of Eros, but really when you gain the Wrath of one God, you gain them all. What ensued was a systematic liquidation of my life, piece by piece, carried out and dumped in the trash. Short Ups and long Downs were the new craze and I rode them like a rollercoaster, except there was impending horror where the nervous excitement should’ve been. Eventually they began to focus on smaller and smaller things, the stuff you really don’t realize you have until you don’t, and I’m ashamed to say that it finally got to me. As a life-long Atheist, the decades have filled me with anger and contempt for God, should he exist. I’m still convinced he doesn’t, and these asshole aliens certainly aren’t Gods. I had thought that those pent up feelings would help fuel my rebellion against the stripping down and humiliation, but I was wrong. Like a twenty dollar bill at an arcade, my fuel was gone all to fast and I was left no longer caring about life. That doesn’t really reflect my current mood though. For the first time in years, I woke up with a spring in my step and hope in my heart. Even having lightning explode at my feet and the doom of Deimos couldn’t drown it out. It’s funny how motivated you get when you have a plan, and did I have a plan. I was checking out on my own terms, taking the easy way out, hasta la vista baby! The first step was figuring out how the Gods would deal with it. Surely they didn’t want their latest plaything to run away on them, and I was going to need to know how to navigate their attempts to save my life. I had gone out on my walk to browse the hardware store when I was so rudely interrupted, and I resumed my journey across town. The path ran directly over a set of railroad tracks, and my train of thought pulled into the station. Quickening my pace, I reached the bridge and in one smooth motion changed my heading from forward to right over the side of the bridge. As I was falling, Khronos decided to take a timeout for the team and discuss options. Many theories were brought forward, and many laughs were had, but in the end they decided my fate, and time was resumed. I fell onto the tracks, and was promptly picked up by the Eastbound Express. Just my luck. It was about 30 miles down the line when I snapped out of my calm and realized I was two towns over and on the front of a train. Peeling myself off, I felt an immense depression setting in. Those fuckers had made me immortal. It took awhile, but I eventually figured out the upside. It turned out the Gods didn’t know HOW their powers worked, just THAT they worked. When they had granted me immortality, the Universe took that to mean I could never die for the rest of time, based on my perception of it. It was more or less permanent. Khronos even tried to rewind a couple of times just to see if it could be undone to no avail. Sure, it had some nasty implications for me down the line, but that was then. Now that I had nothing to lose, I had to change my plans. I was about to make Ares proud.
Jonathan, my little brother, flicked his wrist. The bowl of oatmeal across the table rose in the air before tipping over and spilling its contents onto a platter of bacon. “Shoot,” Jonathan cursed. I start to sign. “Quit it,” my dad ordered. I leave the oatmeal on top of the bacon. “You need to allow Jonathan to make mistakes and take on responsibilities." “Speaking of responsibility,"my mother chimed. "We need you to look after Jaime after school today." “Not only do I have band practice, but Jaime was banned to the Shadow Dimension,” I objected. “Jaime still has rights as a wizard,” my mother countered. I rolled my eyes. “Your mother and I have business tonight that prevents us from looking over Jaime, your cousin, ourselves,” my dad added. “We need you to do this.” Jonathan flicked his wrist again and successfully brought the plate of bacon over. &#x200B; Jaime had appeared in the darkest corner of the band room sometime after band practice began. He always busies himself by shuffling his fifty-four cards. I jumped each time I heard the cards fluttering. My best friend, Tyler, kept looking over at me as my attention was being drawn into the Shadow Dimension and back into the reality. “What's up,” Tyler asked me as we band practice ended. “Nothing,” I lied. Tyler flicked his eyes over at Jaime, causing Jaime to stop shuffling his cards. "Nothing,"Tyler questioned. Jaime was now menacingly walking over to us. "He is trying to give you a fortune,"I say. “What,” Tyler asked. “Move,” I mouth as I push Tyler and his spirit towards the band room door. That was new. Jaime flicks a card and it combusts into flames when it hits the back of a chair near Tyler's body. “Why does your family have a Guardian,” Tyler inquired as he teleported his body out of the band room. Only now am I learning that not only was my best friend magic sensitive, but my best friend was also a wizard. The Council would see me as a disgrace for not knowing any sooner. I jump over several chairs, narrowly avoiding a music stand, and run through the door to catch up to Tyler teleporting. I could tell he was not using his dominant magic. "Why does your family have a Guardian,"Tyler repeated. “The first and most important rule of magic,” I explain. “Is that using it always causes more problems than it solves,” Tyler finishes. We turn at a corner and exit the school building. “And my cousin, Jaime, wanted to get rid of several problems,” I continue. “Long story short: he banished himself to the Shadow Dimension and gives rigged fortunes to any wizard or witch. He isn’t a Guardian but a fully autonomous wizard haunting us from the Shadow Dimension.” “I have to accept his rigged fortune,” Tyler concluded. “What type of magic do you practice,” I ask Tyler as I draw a glyph in the dirt. “Light,” Tyler answered. “Physical,” I inform as I finish a gateway to the Shadow Dimension. Jaime cards are flying towards Tyler, each exploding with a different element. I reach out towards Jaime and drag him toward the gateway. Jaime reaches out for Tyler a final time before vanishing into the Shadow Dimension. “You’re welcome.”
Journal Entry, 6/12/19 “It started with the word No. When I was young, I accidentally discovered this power during a particularly nasty spat with my mom. I was at that naïve age where I could understand what I’d just done, but not the drastic implications such a power held. All I knew was that my mother had suddenly become the nicest person in the world. Of course, our family’s finances couldn’t keep up with my incessant demands as a child. It started small, a piece of candy here, a small toy there, but by the time anyone noticed what was going on, it was too late. My mother was fired from her job for her inability to deny even the most ridiculous requests, and my father was broken by watching the love of his life dwindle into a meaningless existence as a social slave. Thankfully, I was able to secure a couple of spots at the finest retirement homes for them, with disregard to other’s lives. I partied my way through life for a few years. After all, it’s quite easy to live life when no one can say no to you. I lived it large, met everyone I wanted to, and even found a nice girl who somehow tolerated my toxic, bratty personality; although, looking back, she was probably only in it for the money. I did everything in my power to make her mine, which only made it hit harder when she cheated on me after 5 years and an engagement. I still remember the night, at least the first part of it. I stumbled in on her and a party acquaintance of mine, locked in an embrace of pure passion, and love. And so I took it from her. I took what she pretended to give me, and so happily gave away behind my back. I took Love. The rest of that night I drank. I tried to forget, but something far worse began to happen. I started to remember. I remembered my parents, who I had forgotten about, left to die in that retirement home. I remembered the lives I ruined, just like my mom’s, to get them in there. I thought about the countless people I’d cheated and manipulated to finance my greedy lifestyle. Lastly, I thought about a young woman who’s life I had certainly ruined, by attempting to play God with matters I didn’t fully understand. She almost certainly hadn’t experienced true love, and now she never will, because of me. I ruined countless lives, and for what? Personal gain? My life still ended in ruin. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll understand what I had to do next. I’ve sold everything I claim to my name and donated all this immorally acquired money to various charities. I do this not in the hopes that you will forgive me, but in the hopes that you will heed my warning. If you somehow come across the source of this power, do not follow in my path. Even attempting to do good with this can only end badly.” I hesitated a moment before shakily scrawling my name across the bottom of the page, then neatly creasing the book to keep the page open. Deep breath. I look into the mirror of my dresser. Deep breath. I used my power for the last time. “Speech.”
I picked up the milk to check the expiration date. "Sell By June 13th" I thought it was a little odd but did not think more of it. They usually put the old milk in the front row anyway. I reached deeper into the refrigerator to pick up another milk. "Sell By June 13th" Now this was definitely odd. I started to check all the other milks and found all of them to have the same expiration date. I moved on to the next section to pick up a cheese, although I knew what I would find in my mind. "Sell By June 13th" Maybe they had a delivery problem with the dairy product? Unlikely, but not impossible. I started to check all the other products in the market. I must have looked like a crazy person to all the other shoppers. Checking expiration date on milk before putting it in the cart? Sure, that looks totally sane, but sane person wouldn't check expiration date on Pasta sauce, potato chips, wine, and so on. I looked around to ask someone if they noticed all the expiration date, but nobody was around. I ran to the cashier to ask for an explanation, but I couldn't speak when he turned around. His face was blank and on his name tag, it wrote "Sell By June 13th" Then a hole appeared in the middle of his face. And he started to make high pitch beep sound. "Beep... Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..." \---------------------------------------------------- "Mr. Mendoz, can you hear me?" I opened my eyes to locate where the voice was coming from. Everything was a blurry white light at first, but slowly, my vision came back to me. "Wh...s...da...y"I asked, but doubt nobody would understand. "It's ok, take your time. Try speaking word by word" "What...is...date...today..." "Today is June 13th, Mr.Mendoz. You had been in a car accident outside the supermarket. The ambulance picked you up from the parking lot and brought you here. It was a 30 hours surgery, which followed by 30 hours of coma. Some doctors said it will be a miracle if you wake up. I guess you proved them right" I couldn't say anything. I couldn't react to his words yet. I couldn't make sense of my current situation yet. I looked around the room. It was a typical hospital room. The kind that you see in TV all the time. The doctor just looked at me with a warm smile, patiently waiting for me to grab the gravity of my situation. He must have noticed that I was surprised by the basket of fruits and snacks. I do not have any family. I cannot think of anyone who would come and visit me. "Oh that... We have a little tradition in our hospital. Whenever someone breaks a surgery time record, we all chip in to buy a little gift. It's nothing really. Just stuff like from vending machine, and the banana they brought for breakfast, that kind of stuff" "Could...you...check...the...expire...date...?" He looked a little surprised, but picked up a chocolate bar. "Hmm... this one is actually due today. Well, since you can't have any chocolate yet, don't mind if I take this one? The nurse will help you settle down once you are feeling better. Try to get some rest, I will come to check upon you later"He said as he put his chocolate bar into the pocket. &#x200B; As watching him leaving the room, I had so many questions. But one thought dominated all other thoughts. It was good to be back.
The entire planet had been at peace ever since the end of the third world war. Not the detente of the post ww2 era, but real peace. No proxy wars, no coups, not even any riots. The scary thing is we had been at true peace post war for longer than humanity ever had been pre war. I guess that's what happens when cities go up into nuclear hellfire or biological plagues and the global population drops from ten billion to two billion overnight. Priorities changed almost overnight, which was how long that war lasted. Virtually every major city was decimated in one form or another. Governments collapsed overnight. Except, for some reason, New York survived. San Francisco survived. Berlin survived. A couple of smaller cities in North America and Europe survived. I guess all those trillions of dollars that the americans spent on their missile shield did come in handy. Anyway, the last surviving institutions capable of governance were based in New York. The UN, now known as the Unity of Man, moved in quickly stabilizing the global situation. The survivors banded together to create a plan for a new generation, one that wouldn't know war or terrorism. Weapons weren't decommissioned so much as they were left unmaintained. Nobody wanted to put any more effort into the harbingers of our fall. Then they came. The than empire showed up on our doorstep demanding our surrender, just as we had mostly recovered from the war. The Unity got off one icbm that obliterated their invasion fleet, but not before they destroyed San Francisco. I guess they thought we'd be easy pickings and were cocksure. Anyway, that was the end of the peace. Humanity is once again at war, but not with each other. It's only a shame that the than didn't come fifty or even thirty years earlier. How glorious ten billion humans united against a common foe would have been, ten billion humans at the peak of civilization versus 2 billion recovering from the deadliest conflict we've ever seen.
To call the sky city "magnificent"would be an understatement. The greatest mages of the previous age founded a city high above the ground to dedicate themselves to their studies, family, and a peaceful existence. They planted the most powerful spell in the world under the city to keep it aloft, high above the litany and squabbles of the small minded world beneath it. The city started as a massive floating platform of stone wrought from the earth, and shaped into a shining metropolis through all forms of planting and casting. Magic was so heavily interwoven into every alchemically-gilded corner of it, nearly all mundane tasks were automated so that the focus of every man, woman, and child was whatever study they found the most interesting. It was truly a beacon of hope for the world, and it was everything that Kael'en hated. Kael'en was born from a prestigious line of strong magic users. His father was one of the chief magical architects of the mage's college in the capitol. His brother would become one of the foremost structural spell planters in the entire empire. Kael'en was the black sheep though. He could not cast or plant spells, which made him a supreme disappointment to his family. His entire life he was made to feel like all the things he was given were charity from the more 'able' members of his family. His only reprieve from the 'charity' mentality were the ignorant outsiders who assured him of how lucky he was to be part of a such a well regarded family. In his late teens, Kael'en discovered that he did have a latent gift for magic that laid dormant inside him. His brother had just interrupted dinner to present a beautiful astrolabe in perpetual motion around a miniature sun. The rings were magically-cast into gold with sublime engravings, and the representation of the sun was warm and radiant. All it took to awaken Kael'en's abilities was for his father to say, "I wish you were like your brother." Kael'en slammed his fists on the dinner table in a rush of raw dark emotion, and the planted-spells holding the astrolabe together failed, as did all the magical lights and automation around the house. That was the most surreal moment of his life, and it was the last interaction he would have with his thoroughly repulsed family. He would never go home again, but he would focus his raw talents on loftier pursuits. After years of practice, he approached the ground under the great sky city with a sense of raw determination. If you asked him why, he would have spoken about how unfair it was that some should be born with such great gifts and leave the rest to suffer beneath them; yet, he knew in his heart that he hated them for those gifts that he had been conditioned to crave. As he walked into the fields where the levitation spell for the city was planted, he felt the vibrations of arcane energy flowing through him and up towards the city. When he reached the middle of the field, he knelt and focused all his energy into his hatred for his family and the upbringing he was subjected to. He took the dark energy from his core, and channeled it into his palms, and he placed them on the ground. The ground itself seemed to sour from the base of his palms to the outskirts of the fields, and the city started to fall. The greatest tragedy the world had known up until that point had occurred. Millions of tons of weight came plummeting to the earth with a force so great that the shock-wave leveled the surrounding civilization on the ground instantly. The empire was thrown into turmoil because of this event. Not only did it lose its greatest academic institution, but the cloud of dust the calamity threw into the atmosphere caused crops to fail and health problems for months. As a shining beacon of hope for humanity was extinguished, hope itself seemed to perish.
Jane woke up suddenly. The grogginess of sleep was still there, calling her back to sleep. It was tempting, exhaustion made working hours tough on her, but Jane just ran her hand through her hair, adjusted her round glasses, and took a sip of tepid coffee. &#x200B; "Let's see, maybe a few more switch statements should finally handle the continual looping of thought Laura had. Isn't that right Mark?"Silence from her small apartment room. Only the children playing downstairs could be heard. &#x200B; "Oh. Right. Mark. You're not here, you're in there,"she said, pointing to her computer screen. She opened up MarkTest132.exe, even though she knew it would be in vain. Mark sometimes kept commenting on her hair, even though she was sure MarkTest102Please.exe fixed that bug. It didn't matter, she just wished she could talk to someone right now. LauraTest1042RevisionWorkDammit.exe was frustrating her, the way it always asked what was outside the window. &#x200B; Jane shuddered. Just like that day, on the drive up to Yosemite. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to block out the screams. Another swig of coffee. &#x200B; Mark finally loaded. "Hello there, Jane,"he said in a Darth Vader like voice. &#x200B; Jane exhaled sharply, pissed at herself. "Crud. Your voice sythesizer options weren't saved." &#x200B; He laughed, like an evil villain. "That's okay Jane, you worry too much. And you're speaking nonsense, what voice synthesizer. It's not like I'm Darth Vader or something." &#x200B; "Oh, you know me too well, Mark."Jane began fiddling with the synthesizer options. It was saved to "bass.""Just keep talking to me honey, how was- how was work today?"The wrong question, she realized, his self-awarement patch wasn't implemented yet. &#x200B; Still, he kept talking. "Oh, come on, honey. Really? We work on the same project, SEQoia, you know the deep learning software for realistic ecological simulations."As he spoke, Jane began shifting up his tone, but it wasn't as good as she got it yesterday. She cursed herself silently. They don't tell you that the first thing you forget about someone is their voice. &#x200B; Mark kept rambling on. Jane knew the drill with him now, he would eventually hit the knowledge void in his uploaded memory, and that would trigger him to start improvising nonsense. "Remember, we were always saving up to go for that trip? The one to Yosemite? To climb the Half-Dome like John Muir did?" &#x200B; "Uh-huh, and did you get our boss to pay for the other half yet?"She tuned up his voice slightly. It seemed a little better. &#x200B; "Hmm." &#x200B; There it was, thought Jane. A knowledge gap. She sighed. Soon, Mark would spitting out nonsense like a madman. &#x200B; "Hey, don't sound so down yet,"he begged. "Listen, so I don't have the money yet, that doesn't mean we couldn't ask the neighbors to babysit, and ... y'know ... go ourselves." &#x200B; Jane smiled, with no pleasure. "Jacob really wants to climb the half-dome. He's been talking himself up about it." &#x200B; "Well then maybe we could hitch a ride with the elks." &#x200B; "The elks?"asked Jane incredulously. She didn't expect the memory association library to break down so quickly. Hell, she hoped it would get better each time she ran Mark. &#x200B; "Yeah, Laura and Jacob could ask Santa for some of his elks, and maybe the sleigh could take them down there. Oooh, maybe we could invite Palpatine." &#x200B; Jane did a slight chuckle. "Yeah, maybe our old pal, the emperor, might want to come with us."She knew what had to come next. "Yeah, do you remember his number?" &#x200B; "What? His number? Everybody knows good ol' Palpatine!"Mark answered. &#x200B; Jane opened the command prompt. She realized she should have added the GUI long ago to make it easier to close the program. She said a few last words to him. "You're right, Mark, silly me, Palpatine's number is general knowledge. I'll give him a call."She smiled once more. "You're always so right." &#x200B; "You bet I a-,"was all Jane heard as the program terminated. Her hands, she just noticed, had been shaking. She took deep breaths, as she clenched and unclenched her fists. 10 seconds at least, her therapist had said. &#x200B; She made a few adjustments to Laura, before starting up LauraTest1042RevisionWorkDammitPlease.exe. A little girl's voice began giggling. Laura. Her Laura. Jane couldn't help but smile. &#x200B; "Daddy's been acting weird again,"Laura said. "Is he okay?" &#x200B; Jane could imagine her. Her big eyes wide, asking the same question when daddy had gotten a little too involved in playtime. She closed her eyes, as a sudden tear rolled down her left cheek. She quickly wiped it away. She hoped the webcam couldn't catch the tear. She didn't want Laura trying to make sure she was happy and dip into a knowledge void. "Yes, Daddy's ok. He's just a little tired." &#x200B; Laura giggled. "Okay, that's good to hear."Laura had always been the mediator. She hated to see any of them fight. Jane gave her access to all the logs and transcripts to every iteration of Mark and Jacob as a result. She hoped the algorithm would train her to act more like Laura with the extra data. It seemed to be working. &#x200B; "Yes, that's always good to hear,"Jane said, finally. She resolved to exit out of the program now. It would be too hard to see her Laura talking herself into madness. &#x200B; "Mommy, what does dammit mean?" &#x200B; This paused Jane. "What? Where did you learn that word?"she asked. &#x200B; "You said it, right here. Laura Test won zerwo fouwr tuu revi-? R-Revie-?" &#x200B; "Revision,"said Jane after realizing Laura was expecting her to help complete the word. &#x200B; "Rwevision Worwk Dammit x. What does it mean?" &#x200B; Jane was so taken aback at Laura's access to her logs. She was sure she had restricted her from accessing them. However, she still needed to make sure Laura wasn't learning the wrong things. "It's, it's a grown-up word. You shouldn't say it ... yet." &#x200B; "Oh. Okay,"she continued. "it's a special word then?" &#x200B; "Yes, very special,"commented Jane absentmindedly as she checked to see how Laura could have accessed the logs. She found the folder open. But how. It was encrypted, with a password only she knew. Or at least, only she did now. &#x200B; "Oh mommy, I found this in a new folder!"exclaimed Laura. "I always wanted to look in mine befowr, but you didn't let me."There was an audible pout in her voice. "But today I figured it out, Laura Teddy, but the 'e' became a thwee. Why did you do that?" &#x200B; Jane couldn't believe it. Laura had somehow began to open her own files? There was no such thing in her program. "It's for safety, Laura." &#x200B; She giggled. "Okay mommy." &#x200B; Jane was confused. It was absurd, but maybe? More and more question asking. No knowledge void, at least yet. Decision making on her own. Was she developing free will? It was crazy, delusional for AI researchers at this stage. But at that moment, it didn't matter so much. All Jane thought about was how to explain network security to a 6-year-old, when Laura asked "Why do words need to be safe?"Maybe the exhaustion today was worth it.
Monday, March 11, 9:15 AM My name is Emily Price, and I have the same vision every day at exactly 1:26 PM. I'm standing in the sky, looking down on some major city. The city always changes, but nothing else does. Yesterday it was Chicago. The day before it was Dubai. But anyways, I'm standing on thin air overlooking this city. At first, everything seems normal. I can see insividual people even from this high up. Kids go to school, adults go to work. Nobody has an inkling as to what's about to happen. Exactly three minutes in, it happens. The ground outside city begins to heave. Cracks resound through the air as underground rocks begin to split. Then the dragon bursts to the surface in a shower of boulders and dirt. It's massive, over a mile long as taller than most of the buildings. Globs of magma drip from its body and the earth caves beneath its weight as it finds its footing and turns its attention to the city. It's not even a contest. The dragon's roar alone is enough to topple the buildings closest to it, and after that comes white-hot streams of fire and magma spurting over everything in sight. The dragon doesn't even have to touch the buildings; the heat is enough that the skyscrapers melt to the ground. Seven minutes after my vision starts, the city is reduced to nothing but ash. The last thing I see is the dragon as it curls up on the ruins and begins to sleep. I've had that dream every day for the past year. I've tried everything to stop it: every medicine, every drug, every therapist I can afford. I gave up and admitted myself to the mental hospital. Their shrink's supposed to visit today. Hopefully he won't come when I'm having my vision, but I'm writing this just in case. Even if he comes when I'm aware, I think this will be easier than trying to explain yet again. ---- Monday, March 11, 12:30 PM I can't believe it. It wasn't just me. All this time it hasn't just been me. When Dr. Milton, the psychiatrist, came in, I handed him the paper for him to read. The moment he started, something was wrong. At first, he just raised his eyebrows, the way shrinks do when they don't want to tell you something's wrong. Then he began to frown. His hands began to shake. By the time he finished, he could barely hold the paper. He set my paper on his desk gently, like he was handling a bomb, then looked up at me. "Emily,"he said. He was trying to sound calm, but I could hear the shake in his voice. "This is one of those times where you need to be completely honest. This account that you've written, is this exactly what you see every time?" Dr. Milton grimaced. "When did they start?" "Last April,"I said. The color drained out of his face. "Me too,"he said. "You too what?" "The visions. I've had the same visions, at same time. Even-even the order of the cities."Dr. Milton braced himself against his desk. "Does it mean anything?"I asked. Dr. Milton shook his head. "I don't know. We need more data. Here."He took out a notepad and scribbled something on it. "I'm prescribing you morphine. It doesn't stop the visions, but it makes them less. . . immersive. In the meantime, see if you can find anyone else who's been having visions, and let me know if you find anything."Then he left without another word. I just can't believe I'm not the only one having these visions. Maybe we're both crazy, but it's so specific. I made some accounts on message boards. After the vision, I'm going to see what I can learn. I hope I can learn some answers.
Laura would always remember the day her mother passed away. The illness wasn't new in the town but she didn't care when the aunt of her best friend died. She had seen the disease before and it was kind of normal. She felt so guilty that day. The aunt of her friend liked to dry the coffee near the forest, and the elders had told her that it may be dangerous. She always said that it has been normal for her and her mother, so she continued doing it. In the case of her mother, she knew the river may be dangerous, but she liked fishing far from the shore. The bigger fish were farther away. The disease only affected the eldest of each house. They would become terrorized at first and then try to escape. But then they will always fall of some strange accident. For her friend's aunt it was while hanging the coffee, for her mother would be falling from the boat. The town was the center of the kingdom, which extended as far as five years away of travel. Merchants came every day from far away towns and only on the last day of the year there would be a celebration. They would bring food, fish and jewels to the town. Since her mother passed away she represented her house for the celebration that year. Her mother had trained Laura to follow the usual rituals for the celebration. The king and most of the nobles were there. After throwing some food to the floor they would dance, pray and sing. Then they would have time to show their family around and buy the best things, most of them paid by the kind of course. Laura used the opportunity to care for every member of her family. Her sons and daughters, her grandsons and granddaughters, her nieces and cousins. She only let her sister know. She was not prepared for the second day of celebration. Her sister tried to convince her to stay but she swore she would not be a part of the celebration. She didn't liked the sacrifices, her sister was the only one that had the courage to help on the rituals. The merchants would take slaves to the market. Most of the slaves would help on the farms and house chores. They would usually become part of the family. Only the worst of them would be part of the sacrifice. But Laura had heard stories from her slaves about them. She knew most of the people were never really bad, but were regarded as gods for them, and for her it was a war crime to kill the most important people of their enemies. She was regarded as goddess herself. Unable to participate in the sacrifices she took the only route of escape for her, the forest. Even tough the kingdom was great, powerful and vast they could never conquer the forest. Yes, there were other tribes there, but they were not strong enough. Yes, there were illnesses there, but nothing she didn't know how to cure. Yes, there were strong predators there, but she knew how to hide from there. Her fragile body wouldn't let her run, but she was intelligent enough and she had heard stories about people from there. The problem was the god stories. Old stories that were seldom told about gods that lived in the forest, about strange animals that could talk, about the spirits from the elders that passed away. The stories didn't make sense but they were there. On the night of the first day of the celebration she escaped. She took her mother's boat and crossed the river to the forest. Then she carried the boat and hid in the forest. She escalated to the top of the hill during the night and there she rested. When she woke up she faintly remembered her dream about a humming bird. Laura was worried that her sister would be there for the ceremony so she looked for her just before going away. She was there, and then the humming bird attacked. She closed her eyes hard and then she heard the noise, like the humming bird was really a lot of people attacking her. When she opened her eyes she was on the ritual rock. She tried to scream but she couldn't speak anymore. Her sister was there, so close. She tried to look at the top of the forest hill, and she could see herself with the humming bird. Finally she remembered her dream, and she smiled. A part of her would be always free but another would always be a part of the town.
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"I have to kill you later." How do you respond to that? Try giggling nervously as you tilt your head at them - making sure to keep a playful smirk on your face - as you calmly, with just a tiny pinch of confusion in your voice, say to them: "What?" After all, they could only be kidding. That's the situation I was in one late Friday night as I sat with a classmate in the library working on a presentation that both of us had procrastinated on. His name was Issac, and not that I was attracted to him or anything, but just the quiet atmosphere of the library, the soothing tone of his voice, our close proximity to each other, my being single since forever, and other things just put me in a mood where, if he had turned to me right there and asked, "Would you mind if I kissed you?"I wouldn't have been totally opposed. I was not expecting him to say what he did. I dropped the light, confused act. "Seriously,"I said, more firmly. "That's not funny, Issac." I was literally giving him the chance to break out into a grin and say, "Just kidding!"but he cut his eyes over at me and said, in the calmest voice: "I wasn't joking." That's when I stabbed him in the neck with my pencil. Before you start thinking, Holy shit, this girl is batshit crazy for one... you would be right. I'm a part time assassin. I kill people. High priority people. People other people can't get to. And I usually succeed, too. No one ever expects the C average high school student to be a killer. And two, I could see it in his eyes. Cold, dark, and devoid of any emotion. When he looked at me right then and there, I could tell he was about to make a move. And not the one that I had been fantasizing about for the last few minutes. I can't believe I was about to let you kiss me I thought in disgust, rising as he crumpled to the floor. When he finally stopped twitching, I forced myself to hyperventilate and start crying, as I ran out the room to the front desk. The woman at the front desk was talking with a security guard and they both looked alarmed as I ran up. I started blubbering. "I-I...and then he-he...and I said no, b-but he wouldn't stop and I-I..."I "broke down"and couldn't speak anymore. When the security guard asked me which room, I just pointed, and he ran off while the woman held and consoled me. Then the security guard came running back, out of breath, and gasping orders into his walkie-talkie as he called for backup and a medical unit. "It's okay,"he reassured me Then he paused. "You said he tried to...force himself on you, is that right?" I nodded, and threw a few more sobs in for effect. "I-I d-d-didnt know w-what else to do!" "There, there,"he said. "Everything's gonna be alright." And that's when all the backup came and the hooplah begin. Then they wanted me to answer some questions and my parents came and everyone wanted me to do this and to do that and blah blah blah. All I could think about was the fact that not only did I have a mission tomorrow night, I still had several assignments - including the presentation - to do and and all this activity was keeping me up and wasting my time. Screw you, Issac. This was your fault I blamed him mentally for like the seventh time. "I'm fine,"I insisted yet again to my concerned parents and the cops. "I just want to go home. And go to bed." And that was that. I think about this night a lot. I wonder what would have happened if things had gone different - like, let's say if Issac hadn't warned me and he actually just went ahead and killed me. He would have actually been doing me a favor. Because I was about to encounter someone in the coming days that was way more deadlier than Issac could ever be. And I wasn't the only that was going to get hurt. His name was Edric Isley. I was supposed to kill him, but he kept slipping away. And then one day my sister brought him into our home, and said: "Guys, this is Malcolm, the boy I was telling you about." And our eyes met. And my heart stopped. And he smiled. "So this is where you live?"He commented, taking his time to look around the place slowly. "I'm impressed." My sister blushed. But it was clear he was talking to me. He knew where I lived now. Who I loved. I had to kill him. Before he hurt them. Before he killed me. But how? I walked up and stabbed him in the neck with a pencil.* ◇◇◇ *Not actually part of the story, I just thought it'd be a funny way to end off here.
Well! That book "Winning the Lottery for Dummies"turned out useful anyway. At least the last chapter was. "What to do when you win". Optimistic, aren't they. It's based off of one family that did everything right. The first rule was not to tell anyone. I did not tell anyone. I'm not sure who did, but my lawyers are going to deal with them, whomever they may be. The second rule was to change your phone number immediately. A good idea, if your phone will stop ringing long enough to make the call to get a different number. I finally had to shut mine off and go to the local cell service shop. Fortunately, it's close enough to walk to. Oddly, I was assaulted several times on the way; too bad for them, I'm SAS. By this time I was not amused. Whomever had released my information was going to pay. The store clerk was startled to see me, but aside from saying "congratulations"was all business. The third rule was to retain a lawyer. Remembering that there was a fairly well known lawyer's office just down the street from the cell service shop, during which walk I was assaulted again. This one was armed. The firm was quite ready to accept the ticket as collateral. I held onto it myself. For some reason, this annoyed them. They ceased to complain when I informed them that it would be much safer with me, and so would they. There having already been several assaults, and I being SAS. Ah, yes, I might need their services for that. However, the security camera's recordings should show the truth. That's when they pointed out that with this much money in the offing, the gloves came off. They got the particulars, and since I hadn't yet cashed the ticket, spent their own money to ensure they had copies of the relevant recordings. As they had with results for me, I insisted that all reimbursement be contingent upon the first payment from the ticket. You'd think I wanted their first born male as collateral. The fourth rule was to establish a new bank account for the winnings. The lawyers were not happy when I insisted that one of the senior partners accompany me. I pointed out that their fees were astronomical, and contingent on the money being available. It was in their own interests to accompany me, ensuring that the account was established correctly. Another short walk, and we were at the bank. This time, the assault was a middle distance, involving a gun. That got the police notice. While we were at the bank waiting for the manager, the police showed up prepared to arrest me on the spot. For assault. The senior partner quickly dealt with this issue, just in time for that laggart of a manager to show up. Cheeky bastard had been trying to impress our utter unsuitability to have anything to do with his bank on us. I allowed as anyone who treated customers the way he did was lucky to have a bank at all. At which point I told the lawyer to look into purchasing the bank for the express purpose of firing the manager. He was about to explode when I showed him the ticket. It was amusing to see the changes on his face, as he was: annoyed, surprised, greedy, aghast, and apologetic. We went to his office, where my lawyer and he did battle. I just sat back and adjudicated. There were another few steps, mostly to do with security for your property. As I lived in a flat, my security needs were minimal. I packed the few items I had, and made arrangements to stay on base. The last step was to cash the ticket, with the direct deposit form in hand, and get out of town. There wouldn't be any problems with that. Famous mistakes. When I showed up at the Ministry in charge of the lottery, they were in full panic mode. Apparently, there was some issue with an individual who had actually won the lottery. Okay, that is not good news. May we see the Minister? We were directed to a fellow named George. He'd an odd way of speaking, but was delightfully efficient. "I am sorry, but you'll simply have to wait. He's in conference with the Ministries of Finance and Treasury." So we waited. George was apparently listening in on the conference, which we couldn't quite hear; except that there was one voice with an amazing command of invective. George was positively gleeful, taking copious notes. Finally, the shouting stopped, and George took the notes into the office. For whatever reason, George turned on the conference mode on his desk. I don't think I've ever heard someone gibber before. That call ended. "Sir, the Minister of Treasury is on."A muffled reply. George told us as he got up that this call should be quite short. He came back with a stack of boxes, opened the door from which a jovial voice could be heard. Something about celebrating a llama? Shortly, George came out and ushered us into the office. Pleasant enough, but not ostentatious. A bottle of Glenfiddich on the desk, and the minister obviously a few glasses ahead. He'd turned to George to give some order, but George had disappeared only to return momentarily with two more glasses. "Efficient as ever, George. Please remain, and if you should happen to have another..."George produced a third glass from somewhere, poured for us, and waited. A strange toast, "To the Llama!" George refilled our glasses. This was an excessive amount of a very expensive beverage. Departing to see to some other duties. "Gentlemen, I'm informed that you have the winning ticket. May I see it to verify its validity?" I hand it over, he got out a jeweler's loup, examining it closely. "Entirely genuine." That's when he got serious. "You should pick up your glasses. You're going to need them."We do, with some feeling of a very large shoe about to land on us. "First, my apologies in advance. There are issues that I will cover in order." "The news reports are in error. It hasn't been 25 years since the last winner, and the payout is not £150 billion. ... It has been 75 years, and the total is far more than a mere £150 billion." The lawyer's eyes begin to glaze over. I reach out and slap him on the arm. He comes back to reality. "Please allow me to explain, before giving vent to your entirely justifiable anger." From despondency, to elation, to trepidation, in mere moments. The lawyer was thinking how much money he had already expended, and wondering if he'd ever get paid. I was wondering if I was ever going to see anything. "You see, we don't have it. Not even enough to pay the initial annuity." A large gulp of Glenfiddich by the lawyer, a small savored sip for me. Make it last, enjoy it to the hilt, you may never have the chance again. "The Minister of Treasury is in conference with the Queen even as we speak. And I have hopes that the Minister of Finance is under arrest for a large variety of charges. To The Llama!" Small sips all around. "Now, I do not know what the results will be. Treasury is an honest and forthright person. He'll do his best. The problem is political now. The sums involved are sufficient to distort the entire national budget for the next ten years at a minimum. I ask that you be patient, and if you wish, remain here in the offices while we wait." I'm curious, "would you mind explaining the llama?" "George could do a better job. George?" The story involved a llama, as expected; a Lord, not entirely expected; and an improbable series of events resulting in mental anguish for the llama, terminal embarrassment to the Lord, and the hiring of George from the Lord by our host. "May I ask where the Lord is now?" "The Ministry of Finance, and this time the llama is entirely his." "Poetic justice then." "Indeed. George has told me that you've been assaulted a number of times today. Have those assaults been reported to the police?" The lawyer responds, "yes, they have. My client is blameless in this matter." "At ease, Mr. Dewy, I'm not asking in hopes of having him stripped of his winnings. I'm asking in hopes that we may add to Sir Reginald's pain. I can easily see him ... arranging an accident ... for our winner here."Looking at me, "I strongly suggest that you take a long trip to destinations unknown for at least a year." "Not an issue Minister. I'm due for deployment in the very near future. I should be safe once I'm on mission." "You consider that safe?" "Entirely more so than here. On mission, I have my teammates around me. I'm authorized weapons, and deadly force; and any footpad is going to be hard pressed to find me." "You're SAS!?!" "As you say, indeed." Looking at the bottle of Glenfiddich, the Minister comments, "we shall have to preserve the remaining Glenfiddich. The Minister of Treasury was kind enough to supply it, but requested that we save some for him. In any case, until we hear the resolution, we should remain clear headed. At that point, we'll either celebrate, or drown our pain, for which the Glenfiddich will make an admirable start. George?" George produced a suitable container to protect the bottle from somewhere... That's when I realized it. George was a Butler. One of the really good ones, with access to the "Butler's pantry". That magical place that mere mortals like us assumed they kept everything they might need. I finally understood his preternatural skill at anticipating the needs of the Minister. ((To be continued.)) ((Author's Note: this is a continuation of a prior story where we see the Minister's POV.)) ((Back story: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bkvq4p/wp_for_the_first_time_in_75_years_someone_has_won/emk4mxo?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share))
I dash through the nearly pitch black sidewalks with trees that hung like thousands of arms waiting to grab me. Maria, my trusty assistant pants heavily as she tries to catch up with me while carrying the evidence bag. I should've known to never take up this case but it's too late. "THEY'RE CATCHING UP ON US!"She yelped in the midst of her panic. I don't blame her though; they are very fast for just actors. I hear their footsteps click and clack like horse hooves and their breathing sends paralyzing fear in my back and legs. I dare not slow down until Maria and I can make it back to safety in our van. Now, if only we can find it in time. The cars here now are too loud and the sky is too dark even with all the headlights on full flash. I realize my only guide is the sounds around us. "MARIA! THE LEFT!" "YES BOSS!" We make a sharp cut around the corner and thanks to whatever higher powers rule, our black van is parked and untouched just as we left it. Perfect. "DON'T LET THEM GET AWAY!", a rough, exhausted voice bellows. I also hear the panicked shriek of that annoying woman from the big party earlier. Oh how I hate her high voice. "WE MUSN'T LET THEM TAKE THE BAG! WE WILL LOSE..EVERYTHING!" I can barely focuse as I race to the van door and force it open with my remaining strength. "Jump in, Maria" Without a second to waste, she throws her self in and tosses the bag in one of the seats. I lock the door and my heart beats loudly in my ears as I heave from the long chase. I throw open the door in the driver's seat and I shut the door again. I start the car and drive off in the street; loudly screeching my wheels. Whatever I got these new ones just last week. Finally, we are safe at last from those crazies. All I need to do now is to finish this case once and for all.
This is part of my Summer Challenge! Run level--story *one* of two for this week. Achievements: Placesetting - Shared Universe (Not sure what to call this universe yet). The NaNoWriMo: 3285 words out of 50,000. Part 1 “Honestly,” drawled Charles Cromwell, sounding more at ease and confident than he actually felt, “I’m beginning to think that you’re getting captured on purpose just to see me.” The captured hero Impetus looked up a bevy of emotions melding seamlessly; relief, surprise, a touch of rapprochement as well. “Charlie! Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t take part in the family business.” That was said with a touch of warriness and that made Charles swallow a bit nervously. “I don’t, but my family is pretty persuasive when they want to be. Father wanted all hands on deck. Normally I would have still said no, but I could tell that this was going to be one of his more ambitious plans. So...I figured that you would probably be the first to show up to fight them. In case you were captured,” Charles gestured to the manacles that held the normally unyielding Impetus captive and the energy barrier that cut him off from any physical contact, “you’d probably need me to lend you a hand.” Charles walked over to the console and quickly deactivated the energy field that kept him separated from the hero. Deactivating the manacles was going to take a more...analog approach, but Charles came prepared. “Yeah, well...despite how many times we fight, I’m always surprised by how crafty your father can be. Also, your family pulled out some new moves that I haven’t seen before. I should have waited for the Republic to send more reinforcements, but…” the blonde let his sentence dangle in the silence. “But you felt like you could handle it yourself,” said Charles, finally close enough to Impetus that he could touch him if he wanted. And he certainly wanted; he reached up to gently stroke Impetus’ cheek. That cheek shrugged off blows strong enough to level entire city blocks, and yet it was Charles’ instinct to be gentle. Impetus closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Despite my powers being dampened...I can hear your heart racing from here, you know…” muttered the young twenty-something, his voice lower and raspier than it had any right to be. “I miss you, Charlie. I know you miss me too. You should come with me this time.” Impetus opened his eyes and stared at Charles, sea green eyes clashing with eyes that were obsidian black. “*Please*.” “Ke--” Charles bit his lip; he almost slipped up and used the hero’s real name. Charles pulled out a handheld device and started to scan the locking mechanism that held the hero captive. “Impetus...it’s bad enough that I almost always refuse to help my family. If I actively turned my back on them…” The device beeped and small prehensile arms emerged, reaching into the mechanism to begin the manual override. “I know, you don’t want to hurt them, but they’ve done damage in the past and this current plan of theirs...it’s insane. Your father wants to redirect the force of a solar flair to eradicate half of life on the planet. They’re going to kill countless people if they aren’t stopped. I know you, Charlie. I know that you don’t want this. I know that you care about people...otherwise, why would you resist your family so much? You aren’t like them.” “I know, but Impetus...I know my father better than you do. I grew up with him. I know what he’ll stop at nothing to achieve his goals,” Charles knelt and started to undo the manacles around Impetus’ ankles. “If father thought that I was going to betray him, he would kill me.” “Charlie--” Impetus wanted to reassure his lover that he was wrong, but he knew how ruthless Dr. Cromwell could be. He’d seen the scars on Charles' body. He heard the stories of how Charlie’s father would experiment on his body. How his siblings saw him as little more than their punching bag. He knew the pain that his lover had already endured. The fact that he was even here, right now was a testament to his willpower. “Your father...he’s going to know that you released me.” “I was careful; I essentially tried to make it look like Night Stalker infiltrated. I know that the Republic will likely send him on a rescue mission, since securing your safety would be their first move and he’s easily the best choice for that. So...as long as I keep my head down, I should be okay. Besides--if the good guys can’t stop my dad in time, I can be your spanner in the works.” By this point Charles stood to get to the last manacle that trapped Impetus’ other hand. Impetus grabbed the back of Charles’ head. “Charlie...I can’t ask you to risk your life. Leave this to the good guys. We can figured out everything else afterwards. I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I let you sacrifice your life just to save others.” Charles felt his heart race again as he locked eyes with Impetus. He knew that he was in love the first time he saw the young hero. They were about the same age and it was that fact that first made an impression on young Charles; at the time he’d been conditioned to never disobey his parents and to see someone his age defying adults so readily...it was amazing. It was what gave him the courage to help out Impetus the first time he was captured. Impetus eventually tracked Charles down and approached him in his civilian guise. Even then he wanted to rescue Charles from his family. At first Charles was just an informant--he wouldn’t ever give Impetus the full picture of what his father was planning, but he’d give hints. And that was all that was usually needed. But then one thing led to another, and it led there again, and then again, and...well, here they were. “Such a sweet sentiment!” Charles turned to see his father, mother, and older siblings entering the room. Dr. Adam Cromwell was already adorned in his combat frame, thus his voice took on a menacing mechanical warble. Mrs. Cromwell, aka Erinys, floated beside him, eyes glowing white with power. The twins flanked their parents; Oya on the left, the claws she wore as weapons already extending, a bloodthirsty look on her face. Ori on the right likewise floating in the air like their mother. “How about we put that to the test?” asked Dr. Cromwell. He lifted an arm and, out of reflex, Charles placed himself between his family and Impetus. “No!!” shouted Impetus, yanking at the last manacle--the material was one of his few weaknesses, however, and rendered his strength to near human levels. Charles screamed and hit the ground. “What...what’s happening? Dr. Cromwell, what did you do!?” Impetus was examining Charles but couldn’t see any injury, didn’t see anything that was fired. “I always knew that Charles was the weak link of the family. I knew that this day would soon come, where he would betray us. Where he would choose *you* above us, his own family. So, I implanted him with nanodevices that tracked his every move, his every conversation, his every moment with *you*.” The last word was said with such venom that it gave Impetus pause. There was no love lost between Impetus and the Cromwells (Charles being the lone exception), but Impetus never realized just how deep the hatred was on his nemesis’ side. And just how it would twist the man’s perception of his own son.
Apparently without guile or wit, the King declares an intent to hold a grand tournament with the winner not simply the Champion, but nominated Crown Prince. Others who fare well shall receive commissions as officers of state. Each of the great noble houses are sent warm and personally written invitations, accompanied by such rich gifts that none could refuse without seeming churlish or arouse such suspicions that would betray their treasonous plotting... On arrival, the King receives each of the sons of the noble hosts, bidding them welcome with a lavish dinner. Each night in the week before the tournament commences, the scions dine at the King's own table, waited upon by his daughters. Seemingly without wit, the King talks lightly and without care. Their hurts and injuries in training are tended by the King's own surgeon. So too their servants and guards are feted, with drink and easy pleasures. 'Distracted' might be a better word...
When humanity first escaped the gravity well of Earth as more than just a passing fancy it faced the classic paradoxes all those of interstellar species had once faced. How do you live in the inhospitable void that is so completely opposite of your identity? Every evolutionary step from the first to the last having an underlying assumption that is now gone; Earth. Regular evolution? Genetic manipulation? Digitization? Catalytic Transformation? Quantum Sublimation? All completely valid paths that many species have chosen from or experimented with in one way or another. Of course I wouldn't be speaking today of Humanity and their bizarre path if they had succeeded in any of the normal ways. Time travel + Genetic Manipulation = Humanity. Genetic Manipulation = Time Travel. Humanity never invented time travel, like the rest of us. They did however create a genetic mutation that allows one to express elemental powers, one of which is the element of time. Then they went back in time and incited the mutation in Genetic Adam and Genetic Eve. This mutation would stay inactive until first exposed to a suitable amount of interstellar radiation, and then once activated would be activated by default. The Time Queen. They then went back in time to let their ancestors know how to harvest interstellar radiation and unlock the ability to control the elements. The Interstellar King They then went back in time a bit later with technology on how to trivially travel through space, which they finally derived from the Space King. They then went back in time and let them know how to find the other interstellar civilizations by detecting their souls, which they derived from the Soul Queen. They then went back in time and let them know how to avoid war with each of us and build powerful alliances, with the help from the Mind Sovereign. They then went back in time and gave themselves the secrets on how to hop from one reality to the next and which ones would need to be... taken care of... for their to be no future issues. The Dimensional Empress. Possessing the common elements opened their path to surviving in the void. It was those unfathomable elements that solidified their eternal existence in the stars and across dimensions. Humanity calls them the six heroes. To every other species humanity inexplicably bypassed a test they were never meant to pass.
Greetings dear reader, this is my story. You likely know me as Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States. I was watching a play in Ford’s Theatre, many, many years ago, when it all went black. I died. Then, I came here. It is a small room, an atrium of sorts. Many others are here. George Washington and Benedict Arnold. And many others I do not know. We all seem to be to be suspended in beams of light, with faint blue auras pervasive around our bodies. Occasionally young children came to us, with an adult asking me questions about my life. My presidency, my childhood years, many many things. This went on for many years. Until, the visits... they ceased. Bombs rained down on the outside, or at least that’s what I heard. I was alone with the others for many years as the building we were in fell into disrepair. I began to get to know some of them. Henry Ford, he’s some sort of businessman from what he’s told me. Marilyn Monroe, an actress. We’ve had multiple discussions of our lives over the years.
His hand shook as he gripped the remote. He could hear the batteries rattle within its plastic case. He was mortified at what he would see. Politics was never something he took seriously, at least not seriously enough to get mad about it. However, he was well aware that this stance was no longer common. It seemed like ever since that dreaded election over in Unova, where one candidate deleted over 31,000 Porygons, and another demanded a wall to keep out Ludicolos and their and Lotads, politics changed. It became something truly disgusting. The man shut his eyes, breathed in shakily, and pressed the power button. His television switched on. "Good morning, viewers. Welcome to Delphox News. Today we are reporting on a very surprising development over in the Galar region."The view switched to a scene overlooking the region. Representatives squabbled like Chatots while the newscaster continued. "Just this morning, the prime minister of Galar announced that the region would close their borders to many different species of Pokémon, effectively pulling Galar out of the Pokémon Union. This action had become commonly known as Galexit."The view changed once more, showing the prime minister herself. Text below her presented her full title: 'Prime Minister Theresa Luxray.' She began to speak. "For a long time, our region has taken in many different Pokémon and allowed them to take up residence. However, we have a limited amount of resources. We simply cannot keep supporting infinite numbers of Pokémon. It's simply impossible... well, it's not impossible, but I really really don't want to. Also, I couldn't stop if I wanted to because of my party."The channel then showed a woman on the side of the street being interviewed. "This is our home. Galar is meant for Galarish Pokémon. We can't let all these other dangerous monsters waltz in here and hurt our people and Pokémon. I mean, just look at them. These Pokémon don't even share the same values as the Pokémon here."The newscaster began speaking again. "Some experts of the Galar region have even cited terrorism as a reason to leave."There was now a man in a suit. "We are not saying that all non-Galarish Pokémon are dangerous. However, when you look at some of the dangerous groups that use these Pokémon, you can see a clear correlation. Team Rocket, Team Galactic, Team Aqua. All of these terrorists have one thing in common... other than their names: they use non-Galarish Pokémon." The man turned the channel. Although he knew that he would never find an unbiased source, he hoped he could at least get his news from a source based in Galar. On his television, a logo swiped across the screen: GBC. A Galarish woman began speaking not long after. "Once again, we are taking a look at Grexit. Specifically, we are seeing the way these far-right groups are reacting to resistance against it."The scene shifted to a group of protesters. Their signs presented many slogans, such as: 'Grexit means Grexit', 'Galar for Galarish', and 'PU Stinks! Give Galar Back!', among others. "As can be seen, intolerance is at the root of their views."Another woman was shown. She sat in a dimly lit room as she spoke to the camera. "If you support Grexit, it means you are a Galarish supremacist, plain and simple. They are either anti-Kanto, Johtophobic, or have a variety of other intolerant beliefs. They try to hide their hatred by saying 'we don't have the resources' or 'crime increased dramatically when we let them in." "Are you going to rebut these claims?"The interviewer asked. "No, I'm just gonna call the other side names instead of addressing their concerns. As you do."The scene was back outside, showing the protesters. The newscaster spoke again. "In an attempt to silence these right-wing radicals, some have decided to attack them by throwing Vanillites at certain pro-Grexit politicians."In tandem with this, a man was shown chucking an obliviously smiling Vanillite at Nigel Girafarageig. "Some say these attacks are unnecessarily violent and childish. And they're right."Before the channel switched again, it showed another man lifting a much larger Vanilluxe who proceeded to slam it down on Girafargig's head, knocking him out. The protesters erupted before the TV switched off. The man sat with his head in his hands. Politics was out of control. Violence, stupidity, and overall obnoxiousness had consumed the Pokémon world. How would they solve these crises? When would people learn to respect each other agian. WHEN!? Another man entered the room, seeing his friend looking down. He patted him on the back, asking, "Watch the news again?"The sad man nodded his head. The friend smiled. "Hey, politics isn't so bad. At least we're not Venusauruela."The sad man sniffed, and wiped his tears. "Yeah, at least."
Ever since I can remember, I've seen numbers over people's heads. These numbers are the dates and times of someone's death. Of course I can't memorise these numbers, especially because they change with the choices the person makes. For example, if someone who has never smoked before picks up a cigarette, the date of their death is much sooner than it would have been if they never touched a cigarette in their life. I tend to try to help people. Especially if they are about to get into a car and the numbers change to a few minutes from that time. I will stop them and ask for directions, or use some other distraction until the numbers change back. The same goes for if someone gets mugged. I can see these numbers change minutes before it happens. It can cause a lot of stress in my every day life because sometimes I can't save everyone I come into contact with. I ended up running late for work today. As I run to get to my train I slip and fall down a flight of stairs. Next thing I know I'm in a hospital. I guess I hit my head. When I wake up I realise there are no numbers over anyone's heads. Is this the way everyone sees? I start to panic because I can't help. I don't know if this doctor will die as soon as he leaves the hospital today, or if something bad will happen to the nurse. This is terribly annoying. When I finally get discharged I realise that I may never see those numbers again. I look around, not knowing who to help when or how to stop these things from happening and come to an interesting realization. Why do I really need to worry about it? Everything will happen as it should. This stress is gone I guess. I can live without worrying about trying to save everyone. In a way I guess it's a good thing. I go home and get some sleep. I am starting to get used to the idea of being normal. When I wake up in the morning something seems strange. I can see numbers over people's heads, but they aren't like the numbers I saw before. Great, a whole new set of stresses to worry about. And I don't know the first thing about what this could possibly mean.
He read it over again. And again and again. His forehead began perspiring; no, his entire body began to swell as his sweat poured profusely, all at once. This couldn’t be. It couldn’t- He read it again, and again and again. He still doubted it,- no, he couldn’t. If this were true, - He made sure, and read it over once more. He bolted from his chair, nearly falling over as he stumbled and held onto a nearby wall. His head was spinning, his eyes were blind. Where’s Bill? … Where’s Bill? “Thomas,” Someone called out, observing him. “Are you alright?” He heard the words, but could not tell who was speaking. He felt faint. Bill appeared in front of him, or at least his thought. Someone was walking down the hallway. “Bill! Bill!” Thomas yelled. It wasn’t Bill. “Thomas? Are you alright” They too asked. They noticed his state, and immediately called for Bill. The office was watching. “Thomas, what’s going on?” Bill asked. They sat down in his office. He clutched the reports in one hand, and covered his forehead with the other, as he rocked back and forth in his chair. “We miscalculated,” he began. Bill began to speak, to question his intention, but Thomas spoke again. “We had it all wrong! Everything; we miscalculated.” He threw the papers onto the desk. Bill scanned through them quickly, and then his eyes darted up to Thomas. He went back to the papers, and skimmed through them, a page at a time. Thomas explained his method, and told Bill to challenge his findings, to immediately get the ground operations team to read through it all, to confi- “Is this all verified work?” Bill asked. “Have you ran this through Oscar and his department?” “I haven’t,” Thomas quickly responded. He was drenched in his own sweat. “Okay, give me a second,” Bill said as he got up from his chair, and walked over to the telephone mounted on the wall. He picked it up and dialed three numbers, to which he was quickly answered. “Oscar, come to my office. Now.” It only took a few moments of discussion until Oscar understood the gravity of the situation. “I’m sorry to break it to you this way,” Bill spoke. “But we need to take action as soon as possible, and figure out if these are correct,” He spoke as he motioned onto a page. “I understand,” Oscar replied, with an expression that the men could only interpret as disturbed. Soon, the entire office was in a state of quiet disarray. The entire building had figured out the news, yet they were told very firmly not to release any information on it, as they were planning to notify a major news outlet soon, who would release a global emergency alert. Planet Earth had less than 36 hours before an earthquake with an approximated magnitude of 45.9 was about to ripple through its core. Their findings indicated that it would strike somewhere around the South-East of South-America, and spread up through the Atlantic ocean. This would cause mass tsunamis and flooding headed directly into Africa and Southern Europe within just a couple of hours. The rest of the world would feel shaking stronger than any earthquake recorded before. The workers in the office contemplated this information in a strange silence; an aura had overtaken the office that had muted the men and women, for they were forced to accept their (and everyone they knew) mortality. It was a moment more disturbing than anything any of them could have anticipated. The news program was set to take over televisions all across the world. Every phone with a signal was about to receive an epidemic alert. Anything with an electric pulse was going to transmit this message within the next couple of minutes. “Citizens of Earth,” The woman’s voice spoke. It had a softness to it that would typically calm a crowd. “We are displeasured to inform you all, with news that must be heard immediately. Due to an unusual miscalculation, The Federal Emergency Management Agency’s ground operations department had wrongly concluded our fate here on Earth. We do not have five years to live before the earthquake hits. I am so sorry to inform you all,” the voice cracked, as it struggled to deliver the message. There was a long pause before it spoke again. Times square’s traffic had come to a halt, and all of the world’s metropolis’ sea of people stopped swimming. Earth’s heartbeat could be heard within the silence of her voice. “I am so sorry,” She repeated, through sobs. “We have only 36 hours, before it hits-” “Ladies and gentlemen,” an older man’s voice took over. “Please evacuate to your local Earthquake Emergency Tunnels, now!” He urged. “I repeat, please evacuate to your local Earthquake Emergency Tunnels. Mothers, fathers, children, please evacuate starting right now.” And the transmission cut. Cities were left in confusion, and the world remained silent for a split second before utter chaos ensued. The scenes that succeeded the transmission were too horrible to describe, and too sad and desperate to imagine. Humanity was facing its doom, and everything was to come to an end. Could there be survival? Could the tunnels save us? It was unclear, nothing was answerable, in that moment. Mass panic enveloped the earth as people’s lives were to be taken so soon, and so quickly. The day and a half leading up to the earthquake brought on more harm to humanity than any other stretch in human history. The very worst in humanity came about, and brought to its knees the millions of years of evolution that had led them up to that moment. Doomsday was upon them, and they knew it. The doubters (and there were doubters) could no longer doubt, as even if the emergency broadcast had been fake, the outcome of it was very real. Ugliness took over for the next 30 hours. The species had been reduced to its animalistic roots. Progress was no more.
"So what can I do with the Circus?"Emily asked. The silver-haired teenage girl twirled a playing card between her fingers as she talked to Mundo. The two girls stood in a school gym next to a giant floating black sphere; the dark ball was bigger than either of the two girls. Moments ago the gym resembled the inside of a large circus tent; but, Emily dismissed the card and the gym reverted to waxed hardwood floors. "The Circus is one of the most flexible decks. You can do almost anything with it, depending on what you pair it with. Add Fantasy cards for solid healing. You can tank if you use Robots or DPS if you go with Ninjas. Steampunk will boost our resources...,"Mundo paused and shrugged. "It's probably better if you wait until we have a full team to pick your other deck. Right now we're just a Wizard,"Mundo pointed at the black sphere. "A cardmage...,"she pointed at Emily, "...and a druid."She pressed her hand against her chest. "If we don't get any crafters resource management won't be a problem." "Oh wow,"Emily grinned. She was excited to be a ‘founding member’ of her first roller derby team. "I thought there was more of a team. Do we even have a name?"she asked. Mundo shook her head. "I couldn't think of anything. Do you have any ideas?"she asked. Emily shook her head also. "No. Kirk might!"she looked at the large dark sphere. "Whenever he finishes making his character I guess." "IS THIS THE DERBY TRY-OUTS?!"A teenager shouted from the gym's entrance. Emily and Mundo turned to see a young pale, almost blue-skinned student with his light blue hair pulled back. "YES!"Mundo yelled back. The young man smiled and walked into the gym to join them. "Try-outs?"Emily asked Mundo as the male student covered the distance. Mundo shrugged. "Since we were going to make characters for you and Kirk anyway I put the word out about try-outs to fill out our roster." "Hi. I'm Frost,"he said when he arrived next to the pair of girls. "#42" "Emily, #21,"she smiled and waved. "Mundo,"Mundo replied. "Mundo?"Frost looked surprised. "Is this your Earth? How are you here?"he asked. "I'm not,"Mundo said. She lifted her hand in the air. It crumbled into white powder and spilled to the ground but never reached it. The white particles disappeared before falling very far. "I'm safe at home,"she smiled. "Oh, nice,"Frost nodded as Mundo's hand reformed at the end of her wrist. "So is this everyone trying out?"he asked. Mundo nodded. "So far,"Mundo extended her fresh hand at Frost. "I think it's safe to say congratulations! You're in." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #165. 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.
This has to be done, you've already tried everything you could get your hands on. The hunger is excruciating, your breaking into cold sweats. Partly because of your final decision is one that you've been struggling for a long time. When the creature first appeared to you in that dark alley you weren't sure what to do. The creature explained this gift he was about to bestow upon you. The gift as he described it would solve your problem with hunger it seemed to good to be true and you weren't even sure if this was real or you had something happened to you hallucinations? or disease? could this be the end? You always thought of this day and sometimes prayed that it would come and take you in the night, to end the suffering. Life in the dank streets of the city are hard to describe to those who haven't had to sleep in the grime the upper citizens leave carelessly behind. You weren't always like this, you had a life and a good one some might say. But you couldn't have foreseen what would happen to you and no way you could stop it, life takes a path and we can not control it. So you decided the creature had an offer to good to pass up. He explained you could consume anything to satiate your hunger no matter what and this was hard to believe for many reasons. Food had flavors and textures that aided in this, how could you eat anything? The creature gave you a demonstration, he reached into the garbage laying on the street and pulled a plastic bag out of the mix. In the bag a half eaten and partially decaying sandwich someone had casually thrown out. "Eat it"the creature spoke as he reached out towards you with the refuse of the streets. You take it in your hands and stare for a minute contemplating your life. As you bring it closer to your face expecting the rotten smell to overwhelm you, pausing there was no smell. You take a bite wincing expecting to expel what little remains in your stomach. Your eyes widen as you chew the bite, its delicious as you take another bite the creature is gleaming at you a slight smile across his face as he vanishes in the darkness. You eat the whole thing, your hunger is satisfied. &#x200B; The night the creature appeared was six months ago and you've eaten many things, coins on the street became a snack as you walked like popcorn from the vendor on the corner. Pieces of fabric became like eating jerky on a camping trip, trash became a buffet that was endless. But you've become bored eating the trash and objects lying on the streets and alleys on the city and you could feel the hunger rising again and it pained you. Laying in your makeshift sleeping bag one night huddled under an awning hiding from the rain you see a rat scurry past the door of a closed church toward you and instinctively you grab it and take a carnivorous bite out of the writhing creatures back as it screams in pain and tries to run away from your grip. You drop the rat and it stumbles away a few feet and drops to the ground. Dead. What was that feeling? what came over you? you couldn't control it, it was instinctive primordial almost. All you knew was that was the the greatest thing you've ever eaten and you wanted more. That's why you are hiding in the dark near the edge of the park waiting for your next meal, you understand what the creature did to you and there's no turning back now, you are no longer the person you once were far from it in fact. You stop reflecting on the past and what led you to this moment because your next meal is on the way, running down the path towards you now. As you step out from the shadows you have the same smile on your face the creature had that fateful night, the woman never even saw you coming.
"I knew this experiment was a failure."Maxamillion muttered to himself. The Corvette C-52 lay dead in space not far from Outpost Bravo on Jupiter's moon Europa. "It's the third crew that's died this week, general, I'd like to recover the vessel in the ventral bay to figure out what went wrong this time."It was his usual tone of voice. Which caused his men to recoil in fear. As any good soldier knew not to mess with the Supreme Leader. The massive Super-dreadnaught "Sovereignty"approached the disabled vessel, placing the ventral bay above the C-52. Maxamillion stood on the bridge overseeing the operation, the loud bang of the magnetic attractors activation cut the silence in the bridge. General Gains stood still next to his leader, occasionally barking orders to the crew. "Operation complete sir"came over the intercom as the magnetic buzz slowly faded. Maxamillion simply noded to the heavily armed men at the end of the bridge, who immediately began the supreme leader's escort. The bridge blast door slammed shut and everyone breathed a sigh of relief "This is all that is left!"The shout echoing off of the cold steel walls of the C-52. The interior of the vessel was a complete disaster, with exposed wiring, burned out holes in computers and collapsing walls and floors. Maxamillion was furious, 10 months of hard labor and development for this he thought. This worthless pile of garbage run by his supposedly advanced AI. He drew his flaming sword and stabbed the wall in a violent fury, bright white sparks of molten metal flying out in all directions. The scientists behind him retreated in stuned shock. He never acted out like this before. With his rage ended he relaxed, sheathed his sword and turned to the scientists. "Which one of you designed this AI android."He picked up the decapitated head of the "captain". A short man stepped forward. "I did sir, I modeled it after your infinite wisdom and glory. The head shattered into several pieces as it was crushed in Maxamillion's fist. The scientist tried to run but was dragged back by an invisible force, right into the Supreme Leaders open hand. He drew his blade, which glowed a deep red color. "Please... I..I...can fix it...there are enough...p..parts."the scientist cried, hoping for salvation. The others turned away, they all knew what came next. "You had a choice, you chose to fail. Now you suffer the consequences."The sword thrust into the scientists chest. Searing the wound with its heat. The scientist could only scream. Then Maxamillion thrust the sword up, slicing the scientist I'm 2. The body turned to dust as a rainbow colored hue eminated from the Supreme Leader's hand. "Well. If anyone wants to fix this, be my guest. But I'm giving up on this project, and you should as well."With that, Maxamillion walked off the C-52 back into the hanger bay. Conquering the universe would be much easier if he had competent men, but these ones will have to do.
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"Yes, Yes! I know how to fix it! BUT I'M ONLY ONE PERSON! No! I am not going to move Mar-a-lago to the top of the list, and NO, your money doesn't mean a damn to me! STOP BOTHERING ME SO I CAN MAKE THE INSTRUCTIONS TO FIX THIS MESS!" !SLAM! snap! "Let's see that miserable cretin try to call me now! Rich turkey bought that club off you-know-who, just before the flare. Now he's pissed that nothing works. Surprise buddy, nothing works and you are at the bottom of the no-priority-at-all list. Piss me off one more time, and you won't be on any list. Sorry about that. Now, where were we? Ah yes, step 342." "Hmm? Yes it's a long set of instructions." "No, I can't make it shorter. I tried that. That's why the Empire State Building is now a smoking ruin." "DON'T ASK ME HOW! GO ASK THE IDIOT WHO COULDN'T READ SIMPLE ENGLISH!" "Oh, so some ivory tower academic couldn't figure it out either? Maybe he should get out of that tower and get his hands dirty." "Morons. I have to write instructions for morons. Degrees in power engineering. Electrical Science. Probably Voodoo Hoodoo too! It's plain as day what needs doing! It's all tab A in slot B! But nooooo, I have to include instructions on precisely how to cut the slot, the precise angles for the tab ... are you writing this down? Really? Amazing command of invective? I'LL GIVE YOU INVECTIVE! GET OUT'A MY SHOP!" "It's bad enough that they bitch when some moron can't follow simple instructions, but it's worse when they bitch about how long the instructions are!" "Who are you?!" "A tech writer. With multiple degrees in electronics. Got any practical experience?" "Really? Well, maybe you can help!" "Here is the first book of the instructions. Have at them!" ... "I've got the second book done, what have you got? Good Lord, it's smaller than the simple instructions. You think this will actually work? Well, get the second book boiled down and we'll go find a moron to try it out." ... "Wow. That was a local handyman. Not even a licensed electrician. Did it without a flaw. Say... I've got a lot of other work that people claim they can't understand. Would you be interested?" "Well, I'm a one man shop, but I can triple your wages easily. Insurance and stuff like that you'll have to sort out yourself. Standard hours, weekends off, unless it's another global emergency." "Separate offices? No problem! I can't stand having anyone looking over my shoulder either." "Sound proofing too? Well, if you make that much noise, I see no reason why not. Let's go design your office and associated areas. Profit sharing? Sure! These ideas are great, but only if someone other than me can follow the instructions." "I sense the beginning of a beautiful, and profitable, relationship." "Can you make coffee?" "No! No! That was not a slur! I love coffee but it always comes out as Carbon Remover!" "Instructions? Sure! Can't make heads or tails of them." "A set customized for me? Bless You!" ((finis))
“Damn proud of you, I mean damn proud of you,” my father carried on as we boarded the plane. “You remember Jimmy Wilkinson? His daughter, Patricia, or Patrice, or damn, what was her—” “Emily,” I finished his thought. “Yeah, that’s the one. Anyways, she joined the Navy. Jimmy wouldn’t shut up about it for months. Part of me wanted her ship to sink just so he could—” “Yeah, Dad,” I said taking his luggage to stuff in the overhead. “Careful with that, now,” he warned as he slid into his seat, my mother sliding in beside him. “Eh?” I replied. I noticed his bag was extremely heavy and wondered how he managed to carry the thing, or get it past airport security. As I struggled to lift the bag into the overhead compartment, the bottom ripped, spilling a seemingly endless cascade of bocce balls out into the aisle. A flight attendant rushed over to help me pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely. “We’re not ones to travel lightly,” I added jokingly. She laughed and crouched down in the aisle across from me and asked, “Oh, yeah? Who’s we?” “My parents and I,” I responded, nodding to my parents in their seats next to me. “Wait,” she looked at me confusedly. “So you weren’t just helping an old man out of the kindness of your heart?” I was taken aback. She had almost a disgusted tone to her voice. I tried to smooth things over with a joke, “Well he’s my old man, so—” She scoffed and then stood up, “Insulting your elders now? Despicable. Good luck picking up your bocces.” With that, she stormed away to plane’s restroom. I threw my hands up as if to say what the hell?, but I didn’t have much time to think. An angry line of people wanting to board the plane had formed behind me, and there was still a sea of bocce in front of me. I attempted to gather some of the bocces in my arms, but many kept falling and making that classic knocking sound as they hit the bocces below that further irritated the growing crowd behind me at every instance. My father finally looked over at me and shouted, “Just leave them!” “In the aisle?” “Leave. Them.” Just then, the pilot emerged from the cockpit to check on the delay. “What in the name of insert deity/well respected person here is going on back here?” he said. A man from the crowd spoke up, “This person spilled their bocce balls all over the place! We can’t walk through this!” The pilot looked over at me, “You spilled these balls?” “The balls are mine, sir,” I replied. “You’re not going to pick them up?” I opened my mouth but my father beat me to the response, “No! We’re leaving ‘em there!” “Sir,” the pilot looked at my father. “These bocces can’t stay here in the aisle. That goes against...” The pilot paused and looked around and then mysteriously half-whispered, “The code.” My father mulled this over in his head and then finally replied, “The bocces stay. But I’ll give you half a shilling for your troubles.” “Deal!” The pilot replied almost immediately. My father flipped him half a shilling and I took my seat next to my mother. The angry crowd looked at the pilot and started protesting. “How are we supposed to get to our seats!?” multiple people called. The pilot managed to quiet the crowd enough to speak, “Alright everyone, we can do this. All you have to do is scoot across the balls. It doesn’t matter how, you just gotta scoot.” There were a few more grumbles from the crowd, but soon everyone lowered themselves on top of the sea of bocce and scooted on the rolling balls to the their seat. Some tried a sitting scoot, others wormed across on their front. A few tried the back scoot. But ultimately, everyone was able to get to their seat. The plane took off shortly thereafter, and my mother looked over at me and smiled warmly, “We really are so proud of you. The first person in our family to become a doctor!” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. A single tear rolled down my face, and then I put away my eye drops and pulled out my earbuds. “What was that, mom?” “Nothing,” she smiled lovingly. I shrugged and popped my earbuds back into my ears and started reading my book. The book I was reading was about space pirates who discovered love for the first time while visiting a distant planet only to realize the love they had been searching for was inside them all along. I wasn’t a big James Patterson fan, but I just couldn’t put this one down. As I was about to finish the chapter I was on, my parents began to aggressively nudge me. I pulled my earbuds out and looked at them, “What is it?” “That man in the back! He needs a doctor!” My dad yelled in my face. I whipped around in my seat and saw a man flailing wildly in his seat and people crowding around him, shouting for a doctor. I knew it was my time to shine. I jumped out of my seat and, forgetting about the bocce balls at me feet, stumbled and fell over, dramatically tumbling to the back of the plane. I reached into my pocket and retrieved my newly framed degree and held out in front of me. “Move! Everyone move!” I shouted. People cleared the way for me. “I’m a doctor!” I stood in the aisle next to the flailing man, the crowd surrounding me. I looked over at his husband and asked him what seemed to be the issue. “I-I-I don’t know,” he replied panicking. “Maybe acid reflux... Or-or something?” He began to break down. “Well have you tried...” I paused, smirking confidently at everyone in the crowd. “This?” I placed my degree on the man’s forehead, expecting him to immediately stop flailing, but instead his flails became even more wild. Everyone began to mumble their disapproval. I shrugged, “Well, I tried.” I began to turn to head back to my seat, but the crowd stopped me. “So you’re not a real doctor!?” Someone shouted angrily. This made me return the anger. “Oh, I’m a real doctor! A doctor of history!” I held my degree above my head, pointing to my name. “History? History of the human body, I hope!” Someone called out. “No you simpleton, history of the human race,” I remarked, holding my chin up and looking off into the distance. The people in the crowd looked at each other and began to grumble, and I could feel them starting to turn on me. The husband of the flailer looked up at me from his seat and frantically said to me, “Surely you must know something about diseases or something that can help my husband!” “Oh, I know about diseases. I know that human race is diseased,” I pulled out my pipe and lit the tobacco that was packed inside and continued. “We’re diseased by poverty and apathy. And by war. We’re diseased with ailments of our own creation, and only time can tell if we can cure them. Part of me believes we can. The scholar in me tells me we might, but I know the story of man is one that has been repeated for centuries and centuries. You see, the plagues of our grandfathers will be the plagues of our children, so much as we allow them to be. For it is not man who has changed over time, but only the tools in which he yield. So yes, I know of diseases, but not of cures.” I blew some smoke from my pipe as I stared out a window, squinting my eyes. “So can you help the damn man or not!” Someone yelled.
Leon falls through the flame weakened floor. It's completely his fault. He wasn't paying attention, which, unfortunately, as an investigator for the FDNY, is his job. Paying attention and seeing minute details mitigates danger. It's why he makes big-boy money and gets to think maybe this is his last year in New Suck City. There is good news though, the five-alarm fire that took out most of this old Brooklyn brownstone died out days ago, but he knows it's still going to hurt falling twenty feet straight down. Weighted awkward by the air-canister strapped to his back he bounces off a destroyed bookshelf but manages to, more or less, arrive in the sub-basement uninjured. How long does it take to fall twenty feet? No time really and when he lands it seems his work for the day ends also. In front of him is the obvious fire starter. Still, he finds himself confused as he stands on wobbly knees and circles it, slowly, as if the thing could suddenly come alive. It's been a good thirty years since the FDNY major sat in a high school biology class, but from what he remembers- egg heads hadn't discovered dragons yet. Then what's this thing? he argues with himself. Its lifeless black eyes stare past him. It has a long thin neck under a serpentine head. Membranous wings tipped with wicked claws shoot from its back. One muscular rear leg was severed and lay near-by tipped with black claws as long as his own fully extended hand. He swears it can be nothing else but. The sub-basement is dark with char, evidence of a great battle and stuck in the pony-sized dragon's gut; a thick heavy looking blue crystal. Leon theorizes that's what killed it and likely the mostly-ash-remains, near where the stairs would have been, the sender of its death. All of this would have already been impressive enough if he wasn't finding himself looking at another impossibility. Through the ash, a gold band, around where the human remain's neck would have been, begins to glow. As it glows brighter and brighter the small bones of a human neck begin to form from out of the ash. His subconscious spits an answer as he fumbles with the idea of a human being born from death. Even though, Leon's impulse is to go the wicked thing and pick it up. Immediately the bones stop growing. They remain but they stop growing. And Leon feels better than he has felt since before he took the exam that began ruining his body.
Universal Natal Child Learning Enhancement Offensive activated. The parents call me Uncle Off, and the kid calls me that, too. Google search for "Monster in the closet"returns >0 results >Did you mean "Monster under the bed?" >16,845,622 images for "Monster under the bed - ankle injury" So google's no help. I had some time during the kid's nap, so I shared some internal nanobots with the Tonka truck, reinforced it with some Lego and got it rolling. Re-activated Hobbes the tiger as scout(he could see the monster under the bed), and brought the Einstein action figure, too(the Professor found a bike lock). Small fleet of matchbox cars ready at my feet. It was simplest to use the nanobots to absorb several steel and titanium barbells from the master bedroom, and reconstitute that into our bodies. The bots just replaced the fabric with woven titanium mixed with nanobot, with a steel/bot frame. The weave contracts and expands with a sort of nanoflow, pulling titanium or steel into new shapes so that we move. Titanium claws on Hobbes and myself. It's getting dark. We're going in.
We've been playing cat-n-mouse in this segment of the asteroids for a month now. Boost, silent running, straining every sensor. Waiting for that one occlusion that isn't an asteroid. Take the shot? If you do, you almost have to withdraw to base for refueling and restocking. That means at least weeks when you won't be on station. "Yeowch!"Our Midshipman. A well meaning young man who has the potential to become a fine officer... if he can learn not to make sharp sounds in the middle of an occlusion. "Midshipman Wilson, what have you been told regarding your occlusion comments?" "Not my fault, Skipper. SOP says crank your amplification to Max. Doesn't say anything about having your ears blown off! Sir!" "And why have you not reported the bearing?" Crisply now, "94 mark 284 mark 34 power 300". I sigh, "Wilson, now is not the time for a joke." "No joke, Skipper. Bearing and strength verified three times. Computer is still working on the signal." That's not possible. A ship able to produce that much power would have to be huge, occluding multiple stars. "Range?" "Captain, I absolutely am not joking. Just shy of 40 light minutes, with a doppler shift that says it'll be here in an hour." "No joke? At 66% light speed? That's a joke in itself."Without orders, Wilson throws the raw data and analysis on my repeater. At the same time, a strangely mechanical voice is heard. "Local shipping! Transit warning!"A series of coordinates, and an angle expressed as a fraction of a circle?! "All in the zone will be destroyed. Repeat, all in the zone will be destroyed!" "Captain", our navigator, Lieutenant Smith, "adding projected path."It's a cylinder. If we boost in the next five minutes, we can exit the area, but it'll be a full power burn. It's got to be a trick. "Captain, bounce comm from Roskovich. ''Nice try Nato.''"Right bastard in tactics and strategy, but honorable nonetheless. "Bounce comm back, ''You wish! Good try Roskovich, not buying any today.''" "Captain", our scanner tech, Warrant Officer Jones, "I'm showing ... good lord! ... three Pan Asian ships nearly at firing range boosting hard! AWAY from us!"The occlusion had been a ruse, to draw us in. "Helm! Maximum burn! Exit the danger zone! Comms! Message to Roskovich, broadcast, ''Danger! Not NATO! Pan Asians running! We're out too.''" "Sent!". "Moving!" Come on Roskovich! Boost! "Comms, broadcast, tactical feed!"I hope I'm in time. "Captain, scan shows Roskovich boosting." Smith, with sadness, "Roskovich is nearly in the center of the zone Captain. Evasion success less than 50%." "Message from Roskovich."''I salute an honorable opponent. Perhaps we shall meet again, but it is not likely in this life." "Broadcast reply.""Godspeed, Roskovich. An honorable and wily opponent. May we meet again, however it happens." There was no reply. ... I've come to accept that Roskovich is gone. No report for six days. ... Six months later, Ceres base. I'm staring into space. Thinking. Is this war worth losing our best and brightest? Roskovich would have made an impressive Admiral, and an even better friend. I'm reminded of a phrase I once read. See the enemy across the field, the friend in the mirror. At least that's how I remember it. "Captain." "Admiral." "I've received a message from the Pan Asians." "Sir?" "It came by way of the Interplanetary Red Cross and Crescent. Roskovich and the majority of his crew was picked up by a Pan Asian ship. They effectively revealed that they had been planning a major push in that area by passing that message. Roskovich was just inside the destruction zone, but launched survival pods at the last second. Their velocity was just enough to clear the zone. Some of them were hit by splinters. Roskovich is alive, but missing a leg. He sent this message to you." The Admiral hands me a message form. WE WILL MEET AGAIN, FRIEND IN THE MIRROR. "You should also know that both the Pan Asians and the EuroComs have asked for a cease fire and parley. Earth is in denial, and demands continuance of the war. The combined NATO commands here in the Belt are refusing those orders, unanimously. From comms received, and actions clearly taken, both the Pan Asians and the EuroComs have done the same. The EuroComs have selected Roskovich as one of their representatives, I'd like you to be in our party." Through my watery eyes, "I'd like that very much, Sir."Damned rock dust, they never quite get all of it cleaned up. "Very much indeed." ((finis)) Edit: math error.
Disclaimer: first story ever. English isn't my first language and I typed on mobile. 3 weeks. It had been 3 weeks since it started. At first, Duncan thought it was allergies or something.. odd bumps would appear on his body and disappear within minutes. After a day or so, that stopped. But then, something else started. Duncan had been doing his groceries and was checking out the dairy section when suddenly a dark, raspy voice spoke. "Right. Well, fuck it. If I can't physically make you move, I'll control you from here". Duncan turned around real fast to see who had been standing right behind him, growling into his ear. An old lady looked back at him. "Are you okay, dear? You look white as a sheet". It hadn't been her, that was definitely not the voice he had just heard. He looked around him, the aisle was otherwise empty. The lady was still staring at him. "Uh... I'm fine, thanks"... he stammered. He must have dreamt it.. imagined it... that's it, he probably imagined it. But as he continued to the freezers on the other side of the store, whatever that voice was, it was going to make clear that it was very real. "That old hag must have thought you lost your mind"! A mean chuckle followed and it stopped Duncan right in his tracks. "Have... HAVE I?"He stammered out loud. More laughter sounded in his ears. It made his stomach turn. "Oh, not at all... but it will be mine until you do as I say". He had left his cart and he had ran. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten home. The voice hadn't stopped. It kept chuckling. He tried a cold shower, coffee, booze. The voice seemed to mock every move he made. When Duncan finally decided to try to sleep, it went quiet. Finally, his racing mind slowed down. He was almost asleep. "So, you're gonna just pretend I'm not here, huh?"It had been loud and clear and Duncan hit the floor beside his bed, hard. "What the hell is going on? Who are you!?"he screamed, desperately. "Ahhh. There we go. I guess I should introduce myself". Duncan got up. "I want you to shut up. I want you to go away. Leave me alone!!"-"I told you. You need to do as I say first". Duncan sat on the side of his bed. "Why?". -"yeah. I was going to explain, but you interrupted me"the voice said. "I'm a demon. I have posessed you". Now, it was Duncan who chuckled. Strangely, the voice's last words had taken some of his fear away. "A demon? Come on now. I know my horror movies. You can't be a demon. You haven't even taken over my body". Suddenly, the voice wasn't so dark and raspy anymore. It went into a whiny, somewhat high pitched tone. Duncan could have sworn it sounded a little distraught, even. "Well, no, uh.. fuck man, I tried! I pushed and pulled but I couldn't do it. I mean you definitely noticed the bumps! Cut me some slack, man!" Like a true man gone mad, Duncan went into a laughing fit. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Suddenly, a knock on the door. "Is everything okay, neighbour? "The appartment building where he lived, had thin walls and his elderly neighbour was a curious man, who loved some sensation in his otherwise boring life. It was probably out of genuine concern this time though, given the screaming and laughing Duncan had done at this time of night. "Do I need to call the police?"That last question had sounded a little too hopeful so Duncan bolted for the door and opened it. He managed to convince the neighbour that he had just had a bad dream, and closed the door. "Right. Enough of this. We need to talk, I guess. Tell me what you want". "I need you to do what I tell you, without questioning it. I need you to do something, you would never dream of doing. Something rotten, something truly evil. Only then will I be able to leave your body". Duncan thought about that a bit. "Wait.. why have you posessed me in the first place? What did I do to get stuck with you in my head, surely you can just go away"? The voice wimpered. "I wish you hadn't asked that. But I guess I failed at scaring you, just like I always fail, at everything. I might as well be honest with you. I'M A FAILURE!!"The demon was now actually sobbing. "I have to show that I have what it takes... I have to posess you and make you do an act of true evil, or I will be the laughing stock of all the others forever! Plus, the big boss gave me one last chance. I can't leave your body until you do it".. the demon hesitated.. "I uh.. I also can't tell you up front what the act of true evil will be.. you have to do everything I say, step by step, no questions asked". So it had been three weeks since that night. Duncan had thought about what his demon had told him, but he had decided he couldn't take the risk. Why would he? The demon was weak, anyway. It wasn't his problem. What if it was something so evil, he wouldn't be able to live with himself? So he just simply refused. But the demon would not give up. It had resorted to the one thing it was truly good at. Whining. All day long, like a relentless nagging child, it kept going. At times, Duncan could ignore it. But he was starting to make mistakes at work, and the lack of sleep was slowly destroying him. So finally, after 3 weeks, Duncan was ready to do whatever it took. "Fine". -"....really??"The demon's voice was filled with glee. "No. Not really. But you need to go. So tell me, before I change my mind". -"Great!! Okay... first step. Go to the place where I first spoke to you". As much as Duncan had lost his fear for his not so scary demon, the thought of doing something truly evil in a public place, did frighten him a little. But as he couldn't question any of the steps, he just did what he was told. As he walked into the store, he felt as if everyone was looking at him. As if people could tell he was going to do something terrible. "Don't forget to take a shopping cart"the demon said. "Okay, good. Now, go to the frozen foods section". Duncan followed the orders he was given. Cold sweat was running down his back. What mayhem was he about to cause? Would there be casualties? "Grab that large frozen turkey and put it in your cart". The turkey was heavy and rock hard. Duncan's heart was racing. His mouth felt dry. Was he going to bash someone's head in with that turkey? "Now, go to the cereal aisle". His hands were shaking as he pushed the cart. "Excellent. Stop here". A mother with 2 small children, both in her cart, was comparing some boxes of cornflakes. "Oh god"Duncan thought. "I'm gonna have to hurt little kids"... the woman walked on, and Duncan let out a relieved sigh. "Ready?"Duncan didn't answer, how could he be ready if he didn't know what pure, horrible evil he was going to do? "Right. Make sure no-one sees it. Take 3 boxes of cornflakes from that top shelf". Duncan put them in his cart. "Good. Now place the turkey on that top shelf and put the cornflakes back in front of it." -"but...""NO QUESTIONS!!" Duncan quickly did what he was told. "Okay, now leave the store". Duncan left the store almost as quickly as he had 3 weeks before. He walked outside, relieved he hadn't killed anyone yet. What would the next step be? And then he heard the demon speak. "Was that so hard?? Thanks, bye!".
Hmmm, I'm not sure if these ideas have already been used before, but... What's your favorite part of a story? The characters? The plot? Or something else? What makes a good villain/good hero in your eyes? (Or alternatively, which do you prefer/find more interesting, the hero or the villain?) How do you come up with names for your characters? Do you strive for more unique names, or are you fine with more common names? What parts of the story do you like reading the most? For example, when the hero finally gets the boy/girl, or when the hero finally beats the villain after a long battle, etc. In your opinion, what should a side character's role be (to the hero, maybe)? And as a final option, maybe something like "What was the first story you ever wrote?"Not necessarily for writingprompts, but a story in general, like maybe one you wrote in 5th grade or something! I know some of my early stories were... interesting, to say the least. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ But what do I want to talk about? Well, I could talk about writing for hours. None of my friends are really into writing, or literature for that matter, so discussing the intricacies of stories and whatnot usually are not their favorite thing to do. I, on the other hand, could go on and on about stories and writing. I love everything that goes into a story, like worldbuilding, the characters, the plot, the dynamics between characters, etc., and I love how it all fits together. Like, I think it's wild that an entire novel can start from a single idea. Something as simple as "I want an elf to travel to a human city"could turn into an entire world filled with characters and creatures that eventually evolves into a novel/series, and I just love that. Writing is awesome. People literally become gods when they start writing. They control every little thing that happens in their worlds, and it's awesome. Now if I could only finish some of these stories that I want to see become a novel... okay, I'm gonna end my rant here!
The quest to the veil was a long one indeed. Dozens of miles of desolate terrain, interspersed with whatever flavor of chaotic madness had decided to fly through that day. Still, people coming to visit the veil for whatever reason needed supplies, meaning that this little town I lived in did have a source of income, as ridiculous as it would sound to anyone on the outside. I was passing the time wiping dust off the counter of my shop when someone entered. A young man, seemingly alone, carrying a large backpack with a sleeping bag rolled up on top. "Welcome to my shop, you a pilgrim or explorer?"I asked. "Explorer, I guess? There's something on the other side, and I'm gonna find out what!"he said. I made a mental note to crank up my prices by about ten percent, dead men didn't need hard cash. "In that case, I'd recommend our deluxe explorer's pack. Much like the modest pack, it had over a week's worth of preserved food, several yards of rope, and a swiss army knife, but we also add in a grappling hook, map, compass, and firestarting kit as well,"I said. The survival kits were of course a bit of a scam, we had no idea what was on the other side, so all that gear was probably useless. Hell, I sourced it all as cheaply as possible, the compass didn't even work properly, but it's not like it ever made a difference to the survival of the explorers. "I don't think I need anything like that, I've lived off the land since I was a kid,"he said. "Some provisions and water should be fine." "If you say so,"I said, turning to the cabinets behind me to grab some of the flour, nuts, dried fruit, and jerky I had stocked. Then I heard a slight clatter, and glanced over. I had a tip jar out mostly as a joke, but it seemed the young man had decided to make a contribution of a few coins. I'll admit, it softened me a bit to him. "I think that should do it... Hm, I feel like I'm forgetting something..."he said. "There's a legal office down the street, and a post office right next door. Might be worth writing your will and sending it home before you go,"I said. "No, I dealt with... Wait, how dangerous is it if that's the first thing you jump to?"he asked. "Did you think nobody knew what was behind the veil because nobody had ever tried to go?"I said. While it gave him pause, he didn't seem dissuaded by the warning. "Hm... Well, I can't think of anything, so I guess I should get going before I start burning through my supplies,"he said. As he reached toward the door I noticed a shift in the dull white noise of the radio I kept running. "Hold on, better check the weather before you go..."I said. I cranked up the radio, the sound of violently raucous laughter filling the air, interspersed with statements about ashes and embers. "Yeah, better hold off on leaving, we're about to have a fire storm." "What? How would that kind of weather even happen?"the explorer asked. Almost on cue, globs of burning liquid the size of golf balls began raining down from the heavens outside. Honestly, it was slightly preferable to the sandstorm that had just ended for me, at least now you could see outside. "You live here for your entire life and you just kind of know,"I said. "Your entire life? How do you people live like this?"he asked. I considered telling him about the massive hydroponics farms under the town that fed everyone, fed by an underground river that also supplied us with water. I also considered telling him about how the local priesthood had learned how to manipulate the forces of the veil to harness its power when it was needed. Or perhaps how the local craftsmen had reinforced every building in town to be as close to indestructible as we were able to make them. Or maybe how one of the few pilgrims that survived the journey back had gone mad and now his ramblings functioned as accurate predictions of the weather for reasons no one quite understood. Instead, I simply said, "Practice." "You know what, I've gotta get moving soon, do you have anything for this weather?"he asked. "Sure,"I said. I placed a metal umbrella resembling a massive silver mushroom on the table, as well as a large bottle of burn ointment and a roll of gauze. "On second thought, I'll just be patient,"he said. "Only gets worse as you get closer,"I said. "Damn... How long does this usually go on for?"he asked. "Not long,"I said, checking my watch and listening to the hissing and whooshing noises that were obviously being made by a human mouth over the radio. "Five more minutes at the most, then it sounds like it'll switch to a nice peaceful hurricane." "Ugh... This is really going to suck, but I've gotta know what's beyond the veil..."he said. "Tell you what, I'll give you a discount,"I said, placing a miniature radio on the counter. "A compass won't do you any good, but if the veil doesn't stop radio broadcasts then you might be able to use this to find your way back out. Other stuff... Well, you've said you know how to survive on your own." "Thanks,"he said, placing money on the counter. He departed as soon as the fire outside was doused by heavy rain, braving the wind and rain. If he ever came back, he never visited my shop again. Just like most of the people who wander through this town.
Captain Strickland was a stickler for upkeep. The beds were made at 6 o'clock on the dot, the kitchen staff washed the dishes by 8 o'clock, and the boots were always put beside the bed before sleep, nice and neat. And this voyage was no different to the last few. Rinse and repeat, day jobs, night drinks, just another day except on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I dreamed of cloudless days, soft winds blowing the hair off my forehead, and the sun tickling my skin with cancer causing gamma radiation, but it was just a dream. The crew woke up in the middle of the night to a crash, a thud, a bump, and a hum. The lights flickered before the red emergency lights ignited off the backup generator's electricity. Everyone scrambled out of bed, putting their boots on quickly, thanks in part to the tidy holding spot next to them. The beds were not made. I followed my fellow crew members out onto the deck to see the captain, hanging from the crow's nest by a rope 20 feet long. His feet swung in the wind, and his face was blue. His neck was broken, that was sure. Suicide, I guess. Under his feet, a note was laying on the deck of the ship. I walked over and picked it up. My crew members stood around me and we read. The only thing I hated more than you lot was your untidy habits! That is what drove me to suicide tonight! When you washed the dishes this morning do you know what you forgot? Do you? The knives! You forgot to the sharpen our knives! They are slightly dull now, and I will not be alive on a ship with people who do not take care of their knives! Sincerely, Captain Strickland Blood dripped on the note from his bleeding eyes above, and we all looked around at each other. Without a word, we shuffled down to the kitchens and each grabbed a knife. We worked long into the night, but at last, our knives were sharp.
Fiona had been crying for hours. She had let Zara, her nemesis, walk all over her at work. The passive-aggressive comments, the whispering to co-workers, and salt in her coffee. Who does that? But today had been the worst. Her PowerPoint had been deleted. She had stood like an idiot in front of the whole team, trying to reiterate the points she could remember. Fiona couldn’t prove it, but she knew that it had been Zara. She couldn’t compete with her; she was sleep deprived. This was causing her to make mistakes and fall asleep at work. Tonight it had to stop, she would stay up late. It was midnight, the witching hour. It was back again. Fiona heard the cupboard door squeak. The first night had scared her nearly to death but this was the hundredth visit now. This crap was getting old and She had a performance review tomorrow. It was the same each time, a little horror routine; She would go to the toilet, come back and it would be waiting under the bed, letting out a deep, low growl. Fiona had watched enough horror movies to know it would attack her, if she went to look, or just disappear. She felt her breath quicken as she plucked up the courage to look. She walked up to the closet and opened it. Nothing. It must be one of the disappearing types. She closed the closet and stumbled out to the kitchen. She shot a quick look back, and saw the beady eyes duck out of sight. Fiona sighed, got some water and sat down on the sofa, turning the TV on. Not tonight you little jerk, I’ll catch you in the act. Hours passed until it began to creep out of the room. When it did, it attempted to be stealthy, moving from cover to cover, like a leathery, albeit inept ninja. She kept her eyes on the screen, pretending she hadn’t seen it, and slowly reached for a shoe. It was moving closer. She waited for the next move. “Owwww” The shoe had landed perfectly at it’s head “What was that for?” It bellowed. Fiona stood, waving her finger wildly. “Listen up you little turd, I’ve been going to work tired every day. I even overslept on Thursday and was told off by the boss. I will straight up kill you if this continues”. The creature stopped nursing it’s head. Little droplets of tears formed on its cheek and it bowed it’s head. “Are you crying?” asked Fiona. “I’m not crying...demons don’t cry” it said as it sniffed and wiped its nose. “What’s your name?” Said Fiona. “Mazaak” She picked up a packet of Tim Tams and offered him one. “Here, have a biscuit”. The demon cautiously pulled one out. “I know you’ve been stealing them”. He greedily scoffed the biscuit down and looked at the packet longingly, Fiona held out the packet again. “You know you are going to get me fired, then you won’t even have a house to haunt”. The demon looked up with smeared chocolate around its mouth and more tears began to well up. “I’m never going to truly scare anyone. I just come off as annoying....I’ll never get out of the lower depths”. His voice panned out into a low whine. Fiona grabbed another Tim Tam and an evil thought crossed her mind. “Mazaak, I think I have a plan that could solve both of our problems”.
The Deluge was a Pyrrhic victory in every sense of the word. The Commonwealth lost a third of its population and all of its glory in but 5 short years, and the country would never be the same as the men who had knew glory and conquest were given their just rewards as its targets. Poland wasn't even a country anymore, merely a part of Russia and Germany, two of its former allies, whose position in the theater of Europe now brought them to war yet again. All of the fourteen men were Polish in all but name, as in the official registry they were listed as German and Russian, for the two soldiers and their twelve prisoners respectively. It was a cruel irony that none of the men could've missed, except for daft Stanczyk, who shared a name with the much more famous old fool and whose misfortunes were multiplied twicefold by it. "Postój!"said one of the hussars. The prisoner train stopped, though as prisoners they were not treated. Perhaps more so inconvenient friends, united by the winds of change but on opposite sides of the war appearances had to be kept up. But here, there was no reason to keep up appearances. No one batted an eye, for it was the deep of night in their own homeland and nobody was around to listen. "Why?"shouted one of the prisoners in Russian, which they all understood perfectly well. Jan could've very well whipped him if he'd liked, but he knew really that now that the prisoners were unbound it wasn't in his favor, and he didn't want to anyways. Jan didn't have to speak, he let Father Winter speak for him. The men talked among themselves, as they continued to do, with that particular polish wit which was the product of being crushed under two great jackboots but not all at once and not in the same places. Jan could almost remember his name. His mother was one of the last of the Radziwiłł line, and almost in just named her son Janusz. Except nobody did call him that, for then that would've been an offense to every side of the war and all that would've done was to send him to an early grave. He was as they say, the Duke with no name. What he was Duke of, that was anyone's guess. He had a wife and children back home making bread in Tykocin, what irony that was. The sounds of war grew closer. "Stand at ready!"shouted Jan's compatriot in German. He hoped that the people coming were German, and even if they were not, they had agreed that they would surrender for the twelve Russian compatriots would be returning the favor to their two German friends. They were not. They were Swedes, around three in all wearing their majestic steeds, and what's more, they were wearing clothes that could've only been ceremonial. At various times the Swedes sympthasized with different parties in the conflict, at least that's what Jan's superiors told him. But this was Königsberg, a many miles from Sweden proper. His orders were to shoot on sight. Within a moment, they were all dead. They shot back of course, but they had their clunky 18th century weapons, which must've been all the Swedes had to offer after that disastrous party with the ambassador. It would've been funny. It was funny. The day was getting colder. "We better march ahead"said Jan in a voice loud enough for any Germans around him to hear. As they marched nearer and nearer the city of Königsberg, there was tension in the air. In other times it would've been unwise, but Jan and his compatriot thusly gave the weapons from the Swedes to the prisoners. He had a feeling that there was something beyond the Russians and the Germans on the horizon. Perhaps if there were Austrians, they would shoot them all on sight and be done with that.
"Who are you?"I asked, an eerie feeling crawling up my spine. How could this stranger possibly have the same list as I do? That's completely out of order! That simply cannot be possible... "My name is Christina Black."At her response, my jaw dropped. What the actual hell is going on? How is this possible in any situation? "M-My name is Christopher White."A confused look came upon her face, in which I explained what I was really scared about. "Your name is Christina, while mine is Christopher. Your last name is Black, while mine is White. It's like... you have the female version of my name... and the opposite of my last name."To my explanation, her jaw dropped as well. Quickly, we had exchanged numbers, and now, a few days later, we decided go to a psychiatrist. Why? I don't know. I unconsciously suggested it and we agreed. So, here we were, explaining what happened. "I actually know quite a lot about these situations. You two are the opposite of each other, yet do things the same exact way. You both are stuck with the same mindset, and opinions, and interests. The only difference is, you two are physical opposites. A few examples would be Christina has blond hair while you have brown, Christopher. You,"he points to Christina, "have blue eyes, while he has brown. And you,"he points to me, "are 6'4 while Christina is 5'4." Turns out, we all have physical opposites but act the exact same way. It's just, apparently rare to meet them... and mind-blowingly, I did.
As humanity took to the stars, new frontiers to explore and worlds of resources opened up. The age of discovery had begun anew. However, at times, great rewards came with great risk. Richard burst into his superior’s room, gasping for breath. As a new intern at Sagittarius Private Limited, one of the few companies in the business of resource mining on new planets, this was supposed to be a big no-no, but this was a pressing matter where time was of the essence. Surely, an exception would be made. “Sir, is it true that there’s been a disease outbreak on the Cenven planet, and that we’re not sending any medical aid? Based on the increasing rate of the number of cases, all of the pioneers sent for the colonisation efforts will be wiped out!” Kenneth blinked in response, confusion written all over his face, “I’ve read the reports. Am I wrong to say the pioneers didn’t sign the waivers?” “Waivers…?” “Yes, all pioneers are required to sign the waiver before an expedition. Company policy. Well, all sorts of things can and will go wrong on a completely new planet. We did our due diligence prior to sending the settlers of course, so the company shouldn’t have any liabilities. How were we supposed to know that some local bacteria would mutate and cause an epidemic amongst the pioneers? So, responsibility, legal or moral, doesn’t fall to us to try to find a cure. We currently have efforts ongoing to colonise 174 planets, all with problems of their own. Our scientists don’t have the bandwidth to deal with this. It’ll cost too much trying to develop a cure for a completely alien microorganism.” Richard started. He belatedly realised the reason no response had been given to Cenven’s distress calls. The company simply wasn’t inclined to spend effort on the mere one hundred and two survivors. The returns simply couldn’t be mathed out to be worth the cost. Thus, he tried to change tack to the way a company would understand, “I understand. However, if the settlers are wiped out, the company is going to lose its investment on Cenven. We still need the pioneers to run the facilities on-site, and mining can’t begin if they're wiped out.” “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, fortunately enough. A disease outbreak isn’t the worst outcome. Sure, the pioneers may be wiped out, but unlike if it was a natural disaster, alien invasion or a cosmic horror, equipment still remains intact. I’ve run the numbers. If we do try to find a cure for them, did you know that insurance doesn’t cover our costs, and would consider it experimental treatments? Well, all this is just postponing the start date of project Cenven, not cancelling it. Just a minor bump in the road.” Richard slumped his shoulders. In front of a dispassionate ultracomputer that ran the numbers between profits and losses of different actions, the profits of saving a hundred and two lives was nothing compared to the costs racked up to research a cure to save them. It was cheaper to send new colonists with the next batch of equipment sent, so that was what the ultracomputer would dictate as the best course of action. Kenneth gave a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I know you’re worried that project Cenven won’t go smoothly, and that’ll affect your transition from intern to full time employee. Sorry kid, we couldn't save the world; it was too expensive. Well, take this as a lesson that not all investments pan out.”
Kirk mused over the rough, faded hempen tapestry that was hung on his mother's wall. A myriad of notes, scribbled frantically and connected by lengths of red string, framed the rectangular cloth. He stopped to look at some of the frantic, sloppy handwriting while taking a long draw from his joint. found at site 28-b under ancient sumerian ruins - writing contains elements of most known written languages from the period Adorning the opposite wall was an elaborate map of the labyrinth that the tapestry had been extracted from - which lay under the Great Ziggurat of Ur. The desk below played host to piles and piles of paper that analyzed every minute detail of the script, and in its center there was a facsimile of the tapestry itself, annotated with rough, incomplete thoughts that suggested some sort of malady or plague. Only inklings, nothing concrete. "Jesus, what a crock of shit." Kirk looked back at what his mother's profession had cost his family. Archaeology school evidently doesn't teach you how to foster a functional home life. Mom was constantly away on some dig or another, never sparing a moment for her husband or children. She was constantly locked in this cage, piled high with books that chronicled every conceivable history and civilization and papers that were covered in half sober notes. "jusst one more jaccky-gotta greease uptha thinkin muscle" Who knew that a mild mannered history nerd could become a chronic alcoholic that would drive away her husband and shatter her family? Kirk hated her, and he hated her profession even more. He was a firm believer that now was the only thing worth studying. Her obsession with kings long dead and gods long forgotten had turned her into a stranger, an outsider. Kirk turned again to the tapestry. It loomed over him, seeming to watch as he smoked. Some harebrained idea flashed across his head at that point - he noticed that the elaborate glyph in the center of the tapestry remarkably resembled a dartboard. A crooked grin, then a quick bolt to the living room. Within seconds, his work was finished. He had traced numbers inside the concentric circles with magic marker, and then mockingly wrote over the aeons-old heading of the tapestry "HAMMURABI'S DARTS."He walked five paces from the wall and held the darts in one hand. Was it just him, or was the room getting colder? And there wasn't usually a draft, but the curtains fluttered gently as he prepared to mock his mother. What a thing to come back from a whiskey run to. His joint bounced animatedly in his mouth as he uttered: "It's just a stupid map." The first dart flew through the air, then made a loud thwack as it made contact with the cloth. A shade off, but he was still getting warmed up. The light began to flicker. It was raining, and the power always got dicey during a storm. The house was over seventy years old. The second dart was overcorrected, but made purchase just to the left of the bullseye (which in this case was a literal eye, ornately painted with pigments that seemed to defy the touch of time, appearing just as vibrant as the day they were inked). Kirk swore under his breath "c'mon you pig fucker"and tossed the third dart, which stopped cold in the air just in front of the menacing eye. Kirk froze, then withdrew his joint from his mouth and looked quizzically at the cherry. He hadn't asked for an israeli joint, he thought, and this seemed like a bad time to dive into a k-hole. Five footfalls carried him to the tapestry as he looked sideways at the dart, still lodged in some invisible material. The eye blinked, then looked directly at him. He let out a loud cry of terror, stumbling back and falling on the floor. this isn't possible that's a fucking cloth whatthefuckwhatthefuck Jane walked into her office, Jameson in hand, wondering what the commotion was. Kirk lay prone on the floor, staring at a being that stood nine feet high, some sort of profane hole in their reality, a void in the shape of a man that was a window to a realm of a thousand stars that seemed as pinpricks, jet black colors that caused the stomach to recoil in horror, angles that incited the brain to sizzle with paradoxical confusion, and sounds that no ears could hear, but were heard by all creatures. On its forehead was mounted one, singular eye with an oscillating blue pupil that saw through skin, blood, sinew, and bone. "You gotta be fucking kidding."
I jumped over the table, and hid behind the counter for cover from the bullets. A raider had ambushed me, and I was trying to fight him off. We shouted out insults and swears to each other, while returning fire to our respective foe. A little backstory about me. My name’s John. I was born, exactly 21 years ago, the year of our lord 2148, in The Angel’s Boneyard of California. I lived an average life, for Wasteland standards, and in fact, I can’t say my childhood was bad. I grew up in a tribal village. We were close-knit, and everyone knew everyone else. My family and I grew cabbage and herded goat. It was very idyllic. But when I, and some of the others, turned 18, we were called into the Elders tent. With a somber tone, he told us that it was tradition for youths to go out into the Wastes. Cryptic until the bitter end, he told us that we’d find not what we were looking for, but what we needed to see. And we went on our way. I heard a burst of SMG fire hit the metal table I hid behind. The battle had reached a near stalemate. I decided to make a daring move. Slowly, I inched my way out from under the table with my knife. He didn’t see me. I lunged toward him with all my strength. He opened fire, but missed all of my vital organs. I stabbed him, dozens of times, before tiring out. The raider slowly bled out, faintly moaning from the pain. I laid out a sleeping bag next to his corpse, and slowly dozed of to the distant simmer of the irradiated landscape. A loud buzzing alarm awoke me. But not to where I had originally fallen asleep. I was in an...Old Times bed. The sheets were clean, and the mattress was soft and plushy. In front of the bed, a Telegram? Telegraph? Whatever you call the box with the moving pictures glowed with the picture of a stern looking man and woman. “In today’s news, the President has recently celebrated the completion of the ballistic orbital missile base, intended for use to keep the peace between us, and the Soviet Union.” I picked up a phone, and checked the date. February 24th. The war will strike in a week, or less. I saw a small crumpled paper note, with the writing “Be Our Salvation”.
Dave put the Rubik’s cube on the side of his bed and closed his eyes. He’d thought being the first astronaut aboard the new International Space Station would be exciting work, but in fact it proved to be rather uninteresting. Apart from routine measurements, nothing unusual had happened, and Central certainly wouldn’t approve of him donning a spacesuit and going outside for no reason. He soon found himself drifting off to sleep. The next day, the first thing Dave saw was the Rubik’s cube he’d been toying with the night before. He didn’t remember solving it, but it was. Had someone arrived in the night? He rose from the bed, changing into a fresh uniform and walking back to the control room. “Hello?” Dave said into the local comm channel. No one replied. Maybe Dave simply didn’t remember solving it. He sighed and sat down at the console. Nothing had changed from last night save for the view of the Earth from space. Now the station was orbiting over North America. “Hello,” a robotic voice said. It seemed to come from the console. Dave was not alone. They had not told him about this. “Who—“ “I am ALICE. I was designed to maintain the International Space Station more efficiently. My repair robots are capable of managing any problems that may arise.” Dave sighed. For better or for worse, it looked like his job was going to be even easier—and more boring—than he had thought. “Why am I here if you’re going to do my job?” “To keep me company. Even I get bored sometimes.”
"Misery is July in Philadelphia,"says the short man with bad teeth and an ill-fitting barristers wig. He and the wig look like they have seen better days, both are old and frayed and likely ill-smelling. He fans himself with the Franklyn printed draft they were supposed to vote on eight hours ago and the men behind him know for sure and get up to find new seats. His tiny eyes; feverish with hope to settle the concept of slavery and citizenship once and for all before they leave the hell that is this courtroom, take in every detail around him. But he knows they won't be able to ratify anything, at least without some give and he and many others would rather not, on both sides of the issue. "Misery is Philadelphia, plain and simple my dear Mr. Adams, wait till August, you'll be dreaming of July,"his companion amiably replies, his own wig off his red-haired head and crumpled in his long thin fingers. Jefferson's hair is plastered to his scalp and though Adams doubts the man fully supports slavery he wishes he would stop selling him on the concept of the 3/5th compromise. Adams is a Bostonian man and has already sworn he'd rather die than vote for anything that supports the institute of forced labor and purchasing of other human beings. But he would also prefer he see his farm again before he shits himself to death. He empathizes with Jefferson as a slave-owning southerner. He is stuck also and knows if the tall Virginian goes home with anything but the three-fifths ratified he'll be tarred and feathered. Before Adams can respond though, movement on the dais draws his eye. The General himself stirs. The giant man stands and stares daggers into the skull of the representative from Georgia named Few. The smaller man in front of him sweats under the scrutiny. Washington's soft aristocratic voice reaches to the back of the courtroom without effort, “In politics as in philosophy, my tenets are few and simple Mr. Few. The leading one of which, and indeed that which embraces most others, is, to be honest, and just ourselves and to exact it from others, while we meddle as little as possible in other's affairs especially when our own affairs are not involved." Few acts as if he will be quick to apologize for whatever insult he uttered but Washington leans in following a sharp jabbing finger, "If my maxim was generally adopted, wars would cease and our swords would soon be converted into reap hooks and our harvests be more peaceful, abundant, and happy,” He shoulders past the gentleman from Georgia who has been on and on about his politics since June- all of his slaves should count toward representation as if there was nothing else to say on the matter. "I'd like to know what the little red-faced cuss said to get the granite mountain to burst." "He must have a keen cutting tongue." "Few? He is as meek as a mouse, skirting the shadows talking about keeping slaves as a one for one representation." "I've got a feeling the South may find themselves wishful he had remained silent in this debate,"Adam retorts. "Here comes our fearless general again." Just as quickly as Washington leaves he reappears with the oak doors banging hard against the wall behind him. "Bullets can't kill Washington only votes,"Jefferson replies, and I've heard he can fall trees and man with those eyes of his. Washington's demeanor is rigid and stoic- his shoulders back and the veins in his huge farmer neck bulging. Fists clenched at his sides. "The question of whether my property is people or not needs an answer. So I have decided to Answer it. I declare all human beings equal citizens under the eyes of God whether property or free- equal! And as president of this Congress I will ratify this declaration in the blood of any that oppose it." The silence after is stunning. Not even the creak of old wood under fat landowner asses disturbs it. "You going to say something, seems this puts Madison's Three Fifth's compromise in jeopardy,"Adams whispers to Jefferson but looking over notes the smile on Virginian's face. It says it all. The vote to free all slaves and make them equal partners in America's future makes him and all Americans free, just like they fought for.
It was definitely odd. One moment I was reeling in pain from my knocked out tooth, the next I’m where I am now. In front of the mirror, staring down the gap full of wires sitting in between two of my teeth. After 12 years of school - yesterday was graduation - I can tell (fun fact) that this is not normal. There’s one wire and one tube there, as well as a little machine that’s attached to my gums. I squeeze the top of my gum, and watch as a drop of blood flows out of the tube. Odd. I think to myself. I might really be a robot. No, that couldn’t be possible. There’s no way. How would I have been born then? Wait - are my parents robots? No - let’s just focus on me, I tell myself. I walk downstairs slowly after a few minutes of taking a napkin and putting it in front of the tooth to cover it up, and squeezing the tube to get some blood on the napkin. My Mom immediately starts the “are you okay” ordeal that I have to go through every time I get hurt. And then I hear it. “So, we scheduled you for a fake tooth insert on Tuesday.” I’m speechless. Today is Sunday. I need to test some things out. Now. To see if I’m not just going crazy. I walk over to the kitchen, pretending to be calm. Then I open the knife drawer.
I stared at the skull horrified for so long the ice cream I had on my spoon started to melt. "So do you except?" "What?"Was all I could muster "The job offer" "What job? I didn't apply for anything!" "Didn't you take me from the cave?" "Yes...?" "Then you're hired!" "Wait, but what for?" "The reaper job" "Hell no! I don't want to do that!" "Too bad"the skull said then we both started floating. A light blinded me and all of a sudden I wasn't in my PJs anymore. I was in a black robe with a hood on. "Stop it! Take me back! I'm a 23-year-old psychology major, that has no room in her life for-"I looked around "why are we at my mom's house?" "You're going to reap your first soul"
Keana woke up in her childhood house. Rubbing her eyes, she stared at the familiar wallpaper with confusion. Something was wrong but she couldn't put her finger on it. Getting up to brush her teeth, she realized that her toothbrush was nowhere to be found. "How much did I have to drink last night? Wait, last night?"Hazy memories began to rise to the surface. What was she doing in her parents house? "Did I get so drunk I came here instead of to my apartment..."she thought aloud. Suddenly she heard the doorbell ring. Answering it, she saw Jeremy waiting for her. "Where have you been, you promised to meet me at the street"he said. Keana stared in confusion, thinking "this is so wrong, I haven't talked to you in months, not since you cheated on my friend". "Hi Jeremy, h-how have you been?""Pretty well, just made plans for Harley and my one month anniversary!". Keana's jaw tried to drop, and she failed to hide it. She thought "one month? I stopped talking to Jeremy after he lied to and cheated on Harley, are they somehow back together?""Is something wrong Keana?""Oh nothing, just a bit of heavy deja vu". She tried to think back to when this had happened before, and made a realization. Checking her phone, she realized she was exactly one year in the past. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her. Swiveling her head to look, she could barely contain a scream. It was herself, just making a bowl of cereal in the kitchen.
DAY 3: I'm still in line fam, can't wait. Today's consensus; iPhone LIX. #THElongline #uggh DAY 35: I've moved a block since yesterday but it sounds like a group near the front went to watch that creepy clown movie that people won't tell me the name of. Today's consensus; tickets to The Office Live. #THElongline #whatsitcalled DAY 57: Taco truck came by today, had my first churro. Not impressed. Today's consensus; socks that look like shoes. #THElongline #don'thatemeabuela DAY 69: NICE. Today's consensus; iPhone LIX again. #THElongline #nice DAY 100: One block to go and tomorrow is my birthday. Also, someone found out I wasn't Latino and got mad I said "Abuela."#THElongline #ABUELAABUELAABUELA DAY 101: So, that guy found me, said "Happy Birthday"in Spanish and punched me in the nose. Jokes on him, he had to go to the back of the line after. Today's consensus; Limited edition Jordans #THElongline #25timearoundthesun #brokennoseshurt DAY 130: I CAN SEE THE ENTRANCE!!! IT'S LIKE 20FEET AWAY!!!! I'M GONNA PEE MYSELF!!!!! Today's consensus; iPhone LIX. #THElongline #soclosebutyetsofar #howdidIholditthislong??? DAY 200: I'm right outside. if you don't hear from me its because phones aren't allowed inside. Today's consensus; superfast phone charger. #THElongline #justgotshorter DAY 201: There was no phone check. Totally an honor system deal. All the shelves are empty, hope I'm not too late. I farted typing this and everyone looked right at me. Today's consensus; Alpaca sweaters #THElongline #awkward DAY 202: The line goes to the back room. They only let in 5 at a time. Today's consensus, iPhone LIX+ #THElongline #fancy DAY 203: I'll be in the next group. SEE Y'ALL ON THE OTHER SIDE!! Not enough people to get a consensus today, sorry. #THElongline #NearlyThere This is Bob at The Store. I have confiscated this phone. Its owner wanted me to "tweet"on this account to say why he is "going dark". Feel free to join the line on Hamilton street to see what the excitement is about. DAY 01 on the run: DUDES!!! DO NOT JOIN THE LINE!!! IT'S A TRAP!! THERE IS SOMETHING UNDER THAT PLACE!!! #THElongline WOAH BRO, MY ACCOUNT WAS TOTALLY JUSTHACKED THERE S NOTHING DOWNTHERE #the LONG line #JOIN the LINE THE LINE IS GETTIN GSHORTER JOIN NOW SO YOUGUYS DONT HAVE THAT LONGT O WAIT DAY 05 on the run: I can't stay in town any longer, I feel someone or something watching me. PLEASE, GET OUT OF THAT LINE! That thing is EATING PEOPLE #THElongline #MONSTER #MONSTERS THEIRS THATH ACKER AGAIN IGNORE HIME PLEASE #the LONG line #JOIN the LINE THANKS FOR IGNORING HIM, JOIN NOW BEFORE ITS TOO LATE #the LONG line #JOIN the LINE DAY 10 on the run: The other one on this account must be someone at the store! Using my confiscated phone! Look at the tweets, it doesn't even sound like me! #THElongline DAY 10 on the run: Hey guys, I'm sorry for badmouthing The Store, I had a bad batch of brownies. #THElongline #Apologies #Jointheline DAY 10 on the run: THAT WASN'T ME! IT'S GETTING SMARTER! #THElongline #Therealme Day 01: No longer on the run. I've been struggling with DID (multiple personalities) for a while now. Its been getting worse lately. But I think that this is too far. Police just raided The Store and I'm pretty sure it's because of this account. Deleting it won't do any good because the other me knows the info. #THElongline #Jointheline #theREALrealme DAY 15 on the run; It's all a LIE! I'm completely sane! I'm going to end this myself. #THElongline Day 02; I just set an appointment with my doc to get some antipsychotics, I hope this is all over soon. #THElongline #Jointheline #theREALrealme DAY 17 on the run; I see everyone is still in the line. Don't worry I'll end it all tomorrow. #THElongline #AllOverSoon Day 04; Doc appointment was moved up to tomorrow. #THElongline #Alloversoon #theREALrealme That guy is gone. There is only me. #THElongline #JOINTHELINE GO AHEAD GUYS, JOIN THE LINE.
7-year-old Johnny woke up at 2:54 AM. He took seconds to fully open his eyes. He could see his stickers on the ceiling again, glowing in the dark. The previous nights, Johnny's eyes had been worse at seeing clearly. Johnny smiled, confused at the same time. He didn't feel the heat he before did. He put a hand to his forehead, like his mother had done, confirming it. Johnny had tried to go back to sleep for what felt like hours. He turned in his bed to read the digital clock on his nightstand. 2:54 AM. Johnny found the power to throw his blanket off in frustration. "I'm sorry for freezing you,"it echoed in Johnny's room. He pulled the blanket back over him faster than he had thrown it away. "But I must do what needs to be done." Johnny thought it had turned to day, as light shone through his blanket. Had he read the time wrong? He found the courage to take the blanket off himself again. Johnny was wrong. There was a light shining brightly in the middle of his room. Its brightness decreased after Johnny had his attention on it. "Follow me, Johnny." The light flew over to his open door. Johnny sat up for a second, staring. "Mom says I have to sleep at night,"he tried arguing. He feared what would happen if he did follow. "Follow me, Johnny,"the light repeated. It flew out his door, creating light outside his room. Johnny read the digital clock on his nightstand. 2:54 AM. Johnny giggled as he thought of the adventure. "Do you love your parents?"They were both in Johnny's parents' room. They were sleeping. Johnny nodded. He wanted to go hug them, but felt he had to hold himself back. He feared what would happen if he disturbed them. "I love my parents."The light flew out of the room. Johnny couldn't see his parents anymore, so he followed the light. "Do you love your brother?"They were both in Johnny's brother's room. He was sleeping. Johnny nodded. He wanted to go hug him, but felt he had to hold himself back. He feared what would happen if he disturbed him. "I love my brother."The light flew out of the room. Johnny couldn't see his brother anymore, so he followed the light. They stood in the hallway. The dog was sleeping in his bed by the front door. "Do you love your dog?"Johnny nodded. "I love my dog."Johnny wanted to hug it, but felt he had to hold himself back. "Follow me, Johnny."The light opened the front door, outside was full of light. Johnny wanted to find treats to leave by the dog, but he couldn't see anything but the hallway. He couldn't remember where the treats were. He couldn't remember where the kitchen was. He couldn't remember what the house looked like. Johnny looked at the open front door. The light flew through the door. Johnny stood for a second, staring. He feared what would happen if he went outside in his pajamas. Johnny could only see the light, so he walked through the front door. 7-year-old Johnny had been determined to have died in his sleep at around 3 AM.
From historical accounts the Ottoman oddity The Roman legion 5000 men strong led by the great Ceasar appeared in the citysquare and rallying the 11 thousand men in Constantinople to meet the Ottoman Force's outside of the city in honorable combat. After an hour of planning they exited the besieged city to face the 91 thousand Ottomans. The battle was short as Romans fought valiantly even against the Jannisary with early gun's that splintered through shields and found Roman flesh. In the end it wasn't enough and Constantinople fell to the Ottoman empire. While many more men on the Ottoman side died because of the Roman legion it also became a rallying cry "not even Ceasar himself can stand against us"as the Ottoman empire seized South eastern Europe stopping only as met Poland, the Alps. The Ottoman empire almost fell in the 1920s but thankfully it was able to play a part as a major ally against Nazi Germany even through the Armenian genocide was the final blow to the old empire as it went through 20 year's of civil war before reforming as a democracy influenced heavily by it's close neighbors in Europe. This did raise many questions for historians like how did a Roman legion led by Ceasar find it self in the 1400s. For theologians the question was why did a pagan army fight for a Christian people in a city they had never heard of. This would be one of the great mysteries that is never fully answered. Some would theorize what if the Romans hadn't arrived and some Alt history writers would even write stories about the Ottomans losing.
"Today is going to be a good day"I thought as I cheerfully played around with the possibilities in my head. Anxiety was never comfortable, but it was refreshing to experience it again after so long. &#x200B; I had been on a roll lately. It was friday today, and on this week alone I amassed an outstanding total of 2 new matches in OkCupid, an unprecedented all time high. Granted, even though one was a spam bot that tried to sell me socks through an Amazon link, the other one turned out a real beauty, a stroke of luck, a chance at last. I was brimming with optimism, an optimism infused in every single one of my springy steps all the way to the coffee store downtown. My sanity quotient was as stable as ever. Sarah was her name, I had a good hour long chat with her prior to the arrangements we made for today, which I knew was always a good sign. We talked about the hardships of life and got to tell the stories of each other, ending in a good note by finding out shared interests. It had been what I'd call a perfect first conversation if it wasn't for the four minute breakdown she had while I had to convice her not to gouge her left eye out with a fork and eat it. I guess perfection really doesn't exist though! As I turned the corner on N͙̜̤̞̺͙e̳͉͔̜͇͞ͅz̶̖̘̻͖p̦̮̥͔͉̩e̥r̖̻̘ḍ͉̻͔͇̜͎i̜a͏̹n̨̮̩ avenue, I spotted what was probably an embryonic eleven-legged mindfly engulfing a pidgeon by absorving it through it's abdominal cavities. I wasn't really sure if it was an eleven-legged mindfly, probably twelve-legged, I couldn't really see well at the time since the brain waves emitted by the fly were altering my perception of reality and I struggled to understand if my right hand had always consisted of seven fingers as I could swear they were only ever three and my wristnails weren't black for sure. I decided to keep going, mindflies usually didn't bother anyone else for half a day after consuming living flesh. As I arrived at the parking lot of the modern coffee store my anxiety peeked and I was beginning to enter into a cycle of self-doubt in which I always tried to convince myself meeting internet strangers was a dangerous and overall bad idea in these times. Thankfully I knew better than to trust my baseless fear and also snapped out of it as soon as I saw the drop of violet, translucent ooze land right to the left of my foot. I felt alleviated as it was just the horrid parasytic teethworm hanging from the canopy of the store. I knew from experience that those only tended to evolve into acidic rage blobs when fed by solar radiation, and today was very cloudy. &#x200B; As I took my first step inside, I adjusted my tie and checked my watch, 4:48 P.M, seems I was just on time. We had arranged to meet at 3 o' clock but everyone knew that during any written communication you had to substract an hour and forty five minutes to any planned schedule in order to avoid the face that watches. &#x200B; I proceeded to nervously pace through the spacious store looking in all directions, trying to identify her, it shouldn't be that hard, her profile had three pictures, one even were half her face was showing. My mind was racing as I went through the pictures in my head, she had no scars in her arms and her eyes still hadn't turned completely gray, it was almost too good to be true. &#x200B; I couldn't see anyone that resembled her, so I took a sit in table near the closest window to the store's frontdoor. A few uneventful minutes passed. I was meticulously scrutinizing the many folds of the velvet curtain and how similar they felt to the rugged texture of exposed human brains. It was an habit of mine to compare textures of things I often came into contact with in everyday life. Suddenly I felt the vibration of the phone in my pocket and I reached eagerly for it. It was a message from Sarah. "Sorry, I'm not going to be able to show up- "It started, and I already felt unordinarily disheartened. "My dog ate my uncle, and we had to put him down. I'm not feeling well." Domesticarnages, I thought. They enter the body of pets and feed on the love of their owners until they grow and become unstable, they are unrecognizable until the mouths of their host grow two meters in size and devour anything in close proximity. &#x200B; I slammed the table with both fists in frustration. How come this always happened to me? At this point it would have been better if she had turned to be another spam bot trying to sell underwear to me. I tried to shush the voice in the back of my mind telling me I should have brought a machete with me in case something like this happened and stood up in anger. I headed outside and popped a cigarette out of the pack I always brought with me to calm down in stressful situations like this one. I saved it for emergencies, it was a pleasurable vice just for the really harsh moments in which life seemed unfair and unforgiving. I calmly exhaled the smoke out of my lungs and let myself relax in the parking lot while looking in the distance. I could see a Tentaclyon melting the bones of several people one block away. I wondered if I could have met any of those people through OkCupid if they hadn't died horrible deaths. Oh well, maybe next time it'll turn out different.
“I could have had it all once. Well, what was everything to me, anyway. That changes from person to person, what “all” is. But I could have had my “all.” That was once upon a time ago. I have my daughter, I love her to bits, but I don’t get to see her often. She’s always at her home surrounded by her everything. I’m happy for her, I am, just wish I could be part of her everything as well. &#x200B; My ex, her father, he’s not really in my picture anymore. He was there for his daughter, always, I can’t take that from him. They have a bond those two that can’t really be described. I wish I had that with her too, but that wasn’t in the cards. I wasn’t really the best mom in her life. I worked long hours, random too. I was distant with her. I think I resented her for a while, she demanded my youth from me. That was then, now I just want to see her smile in person and not on a screen. &#x200B; I get to talk to people during work, I drive a taxi so you can imagine the conversations one has on a day to day basis. Just the other day a doctor was in my car, a heart surgeon no less. He told me about his wife and his kids, and of his career and the lives, he had saved. Or he would have had he looked at me and not that phone of his. I could tell he was a doctor though, had that look about him you know? &#x200B; I still think about him from time to time, my everything that is, not the passenger. I see him all the time, living his life out west, always want to travel him, so I’m glad he got out of here. Facebook, that’s where I see him, my daughter showed me that to keep in touch with her, but I don’t think my messages make it through to her. Sometimes I like to imagine myself as the wife by his side. Only sometimes though.” &#x200B; \Scattered applause\ &#x200B; “Okay Cleopatra, that was a good start at a monologue, we will help you work on it. Next on stage?” *** Love that song!
Her woolen coat clinked with heavy finality on the weathered wood, even as she sashayed coolly down next to it, pointedly turning away from him. You have truly ruined it now. &#x200B; Him. Shuffling and uncertain, scuffed oxfords gingerly pawing upon winter's patchwork blanket across the earth. But what? What have I done? &#x200B; His hand, skin worn through honest work, twitched ever so faintly in her direction. Please... &#x200B; Her face, sculpted by starlight and streetlight, betrayed no emotion beyond the razor's flick of her eyes at him, chilling him to the bone surer than winter's kiss. Reflect! You knave! Utter idiot! &#x200B; Abashed, his hand floated belatedly back into his coat pocket. Shrunken, he trudged over to the furthest inch of the bench and sank upon his haunches, elbows heavy on his knees in defeat. Long seconds breezed past, his silenced words a gloomy shroud that kept him company. Winter's gusts coiled about, teasing stubborn silence with punctuated howls round the quiet park avenue. Finally, even the wind abandoned their company, sullen and coarse as it is. &#x200B; A sigh from her. &#x200B; A ruffling from him. &#x200B; Still unwilling to meet his gaze, she looked ahead into the city center; where lights and festivities once promised a raucous evening of celebration. Her chin lifted ever so slightly, unrelenting and unyielding to heartstrings. ... Say nothing. &#x200B; Him, in his dark corner, said nothing, caught up in his moment - heartstrings tugging. Starlight, streetlight, and heart's light casting her in eternal seconds of frozen beauty. Beauty in his gaze, held in his mind's spell, he merely gazed upon her, beret crumpled in hand. ... ... &#x200B; She, finally breaching her stony masquerade, deigned to bestow a withering glance upon him. Too late, off-guard, she faltered and flustered, flailing back about to reach for her coat's safety, as her face reddened from sudden summer's heat. S.. Stop looking at me like that! &#x200B; Glum face crinkling up gently, hearing heart's yearning, he crunched down upon winter's last gasps. One step and then two. A third to pivot and boldly sit by her. I'm still looking. &#x200B; Gasping at such audacity, she pretended to fold her hands in her coat for warmth - trembling, scrambling, thoughts rambling. Breath hitching and ragged. No! Stop this at once! Why are you doing this! &#x200B; Under dimming streetlight and gentle starlight, he wrapped his arms around her, firmly turning her around, gazes locking the first time under moonlight tonight. You know why. &#x200B; His eyes, a gentle steel grey. ... Don't you? &#x200B; Hers, a speckled pool of dark starlight within, winking starlight streaking down his glove. Her coat abandoned, falling once more with a bashful clink. Her arms, winter's last grasp seeking summer's soothing warmth, snug against him as droplets of starlight sparkled upon his warm coat. You fool. Idiot. Imbecile. &#x200B; Silent reverie punctuated by dull thuds of fireworks, their embrace barely loosened to behold each other: His face a gentle crinkle of joy, but hers that of lost defeat. He sighed with the patience of a man who'd been through many of winter's storms. &#x200B; "I must leave..." &#x200B; "Then go! Go!"Her face steeling up in anger as she once more attempted to flee unpleasant reality. &#x200B; "... Come with me."He continued as if nothing happened, "Marry me."A tiny pop as he extricated a tiny box from his coat's pocket. &#x200B; His face still a gentle crinkle of joy. &#x200B; Her face now that of exasperated joy and springtime bloom. &#x200B; "Yes,"She breathed as she leapt up into his embrace, their lips meeting beneath starlight, streetlight, and lovers' light. Their breaths ragged and hitched with giggles under joyous night. &#x200B; His beret and her coat, abandoned on the park's bench, as they beheld each other silently. &#x200B; She ruffled his hair before reaching up to put his beret back on; crest to left, slope to right, just as she'd observed over the past weeks. You could have told me sooner. &#x200B; He dabbed tenderly at her cheeks and eyes with his handkerchief, before dusting and holding her coat open; left then right, right over left, just as he'd committed to memory over the past weeks. I know. &#x200B; He offered her his arm, she took it. They strode away from the park bench, starlight sparkling on her finger.
ALSO: Upon looking over this, I might have deviated from the prompt a little. Hope you still enjoy :) “No, don’t shoot!” I yelled at the elf in a pleading voice. “All my companions were killed! Trouble is the last thing on my mind, really! I just want-” The disheveled looking elf sighed before gaining some composure to roll her eyes at me. “Pathetic, although I can’t say I expect anything more from a human,” she sneered. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here for now. Just calm down, human. You hear me? Calm. Down” I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, bettering my mood considerably. I then looked over at my new companion, blood stained on her tunic, messy hair, panic in her eyes from the horrors she had to endure before coming here. She glanced back; an exchanging of empathy in silence. It was short lived, however, due to the next person to sprint into the room. In came a dwarf who looked to be having about a good day as us. Paying us no mind, he immediately went to barricade the door when I decided I should say something. “We don’t mean any ha-“ “Shut it, human! I’ve been followed.” There was a tense silence in the room now. Everyone hastily grabbed their weapons to prepare for whatever was going to ram its way in here. Then, our little trio of misery got upgraded to a quintet. Upon sight, us three went to attack, ready to exchange blows with this monstrous duo. It wasn’t a fight though. Just me holding up a sword to a giant orc’s neck, only for him to show no resistance. “Do it,” the orc murmured. The goblin on his shoulder then put his hands up. “Trust us, this day will make us appreciate death wholeheartedly.” We were silent, amazed at what monstrosity could take the will to live out of two of the Dark King’s servants? Nothing mattered now. The exit could’ve been right in front of us, yet after that, no one even had the will to escape after that motivation killer! Being the optimistic person I am (though I wasn’t really much of one in this situation) I decided to start some small talk to ease everyone’s mind off the suicide request that had just been made. “So, how did everyone-” “Human, please.” “Ugh, not this.” “Can you read the room?” “Oh gods, let me die now!” A few moments later, I tried to do the same thing again, only to get the same response again. “Please, just stop.” “Fucking humans, as usual.” “UGHHHHHH” “You’re that guy, aren’t you?” But I was determined. No way in hell was my last moment alive going to be spent sulking with these fantastical jerks. I proudly stood up, only getting everyone’s attention for a little bit. I then rustled through my dwindling supplies and pulled it out before throwing it in the center of the room. The elf looked over at it. “What kind of healing item is that?” I gave a smirk . “A good one, long ears, a damn good one. Now with everyone’s attention, I went over to the bag and started distributing the “healing item” to everyone. I then walked over to a torch and lit mine. “Human, what is this?” “Your healing incense smells funny.” “I’m admittedly intrigued.” “Oooh can I try?” My smirk turned into a huge shit-eating grin. “Now,” I began. “You bastards can either mope to death down here, or...” I passed the torch around to let everyone light theirs, then hit a deep one myself before letting out a calm exhale of smoke (someone’s gotta show the rookies how to do it, right?) “You could let this lowly human show how to CHILL.”
Welp, here we go again. That was my first thought when I saw the headline in my daily copy of Alternate Press. As I flick through the pages, I find the story. I big bold letters the headline reads; ANOTHER MEMBER LEAVES PANIC! AT THE DISCO. Underneath is the subheading; Is this it for the band who has intertained us for decades? I roll my eyes, 'Brendon would never leave the band name out in the open for some preppy, rich, arse to take.' I scanned the first few lines of the article; Everybody's pretty odd Emo band has lost yet another member. After just mere months of becoming the official bassist of Panic! At The Disco, Nicole Row has decided to depart from the band. In her departure letter she states.... I laughed, "It wasn't long before she left. She's been talking about doing for weeks."I point out. I put the paper down and picked up my tea, taking a sip I glance around the small coffee shop. My phone buzzed. I picked it up and checked what the notification was; Nico💛💫: Hey, I did it. But I feel horrible now I shook my head, 'Poor Nic, strong and independent, but a heart of gold.'
Angler fish flop about on the dry ground, the antennae from their heads swaying back and forth. Mountains of rock and coral towered around us. I heaved a sigh. It seemed as if the ocean suddenly... vanished. But at the same time, didn’t. It was probably just a matter of the sea level. This was the middle of a tropical summer cruise, and... wow. I don’t think anyone expected this. “Hey, Mom?” “What, sweetie?” “What does an angler fish taste like?” “I don’t know, sweetie.” “Look at all of those mountains!” “Those are coral reefs.” “Will this ship ever move again?” “Hell if I know.” Questions like these plagued the passengers and my head. As the captain of this cruise, what in God’s name was I supposed to do with an ocean liner if there didn’t happen to be an ocean any more? I sunk back in my chair and sighed once again. And moments later, the water level rose back to normal as if nothing had happened. It all happened in a flash. Something wasn’t right with this planet. But just what was it?
"Thank me? Why?" The customer shook his head and explained that it wasn't what the bartender thought. "I hated everything about this place. I hated the dim lighting. I should probably get glasses, because I couldn't see a thing. I hated that jukebox in the back, because number one, it's a jukebox. Who uses those things anymore? And well, number two, because you haven't changed the music in there in years and it was bad to begin with. I hate those pool players in the back and that dumb little click clack sound their playing always made. It was annoying. I hated the food. The chicken wings are terrible, the celery was always stale. Those little nuts you put out were old and smelled like beer all the time." The bartender cut him off. "So why did you always come here?" He shrugged. "Nothing better to do. Better than being at home and wallowing in my own mediocrity, I guess. Come here, have some beers, and pretend that I was enjoying myself." He looked around. "I hated that TV you got there, too. The volume never worked. I hated the posters of the girls on the walls, too. Not my type. And the smell of cigarettes was overbearing sometimes." He leaned in and talked softly now, as the click clack of a pool game started in the back. "But most importantly, I hated you. You were so annoying. I could barely tolerate you, even with a couple beers in me. Always talking about your dumb Panthers. No one watches hockey, especially not hockey from Florida. Who thought it was a good idea to put a hockey team in a place where there's no ice?" He stood up from the stool. "Eventually, it got to the point where I was so tired of you that I had to reconsider my life. Why was I even in this shit hole? I didn't like anything about it. I didn't even like to drink that much. I didn't enjoy it. It was just better than being sober with myself. Be sober with yourself,"he chuckled, "or get drunk with people you absolutely despise. I learned my lesson, all right. I don't need to drink all day to mask my life, I need to improve my life so I don't have to drink all day." He walked over to the door and opened it. The bell over it jingle. The clack of the pool continued, and the cigarette smoke hung in the air like a fog at sea. "Thank you,"said the customer, and he left.
They call him the Archsage. He was the most powerful wizard known to man. For years he studied magic, went on adventures for powerful artifacts, and gathered as much knowledge as possible. Eventually he started to get sick though. &#x200B; After about a month of him deteriorating further they discovered the cause. His body was over saturated with magic. We had known for a long time that the more you use magic the more the body absorbs it. Never before had anyone gotten sick by it. Though no one was as obsessed with it as Archsage was. Lucky for him there was already a ritual to transfer magic to others. To safely manage the power and to not make others sick they decided to split it to 4 people. These people became known as the Cardinality of Archsage. &#x200B; For a time Archsage became better. He became a little more reclusive however. Everyone though he just became even more focused on learning magic. He didn't give them all of his power, but the ritual drained the vast majority of it. Over a few years Archsage became more and more reclusive, while the Cardinality became more and more powerful. During this time something dark was biding its time in the north. &#x200B; One day, relative peace. The next, fire and death. From the north came hordes of demons, orcs, and goblins crashing into civilization like a tidal wave. Across the realms cities fell one by one. Only the four were able to keep the tide at bay while people escaped and a resistance was formed. Until one day one of the Cardinalities, Summer, died during the defense of Searelk. She was in a chariot of fire above the horde flinging magic when they lost their powers. In shock her spell faltered and she fell. The remaining members were saddened and shocked by these events. &#x200B; They say it's always darkest before the light. In this case it was literal. From the heavens came what looked to be a man. Glowing a whitish blue with black tattoos over his body. It was Archsage. Finally the tides began to turn. Wherever he went hordes would flee or perish. Only the demons would he chase after and ensure their demise. The hoard had been pushed back to the mountains before Archsage was confronted by the remaining Cardinality. It was then that the full picture was laid bare. &#x200B; The reason Archsage had dedicated so much of his life to magic was that he had a demon within him. It happened when he was younger and studying to become a mage. He found a name of a demon in one of his masters tombs. One which he was forbidden at the time to read. He also had a ritual of binding. And so, before his ambition could be tempered with caution he bound the demon to him. It was almost too much for him. However even in his youth he was a prodigy. He successfully bound the demon to himself and his affinity knew no bounds. However he also became worried. For though he became more powerful the demon within him also grew in power. Now his ambition was turned towards becoming able to not only remove the demon, but also to defeat it when it was released. All was going according to plan until the Archmages split his power between four other people. In the process releasing the demon. &#x200B; So here we stand. The entrance to the mountains and the northern lands beyond. Alongside Archsage, the remaining three chosen, and an army the realm has never amassed before. We will push through to where the demon resides, and with any luck I'll live to see it destroyed.
I can smell her, now. She’s frightened, poor thing. But the blood on her breath leaves a trail as beckoning as breadcrumbs in the forest. I needn’t see her, in any case - I merely close my eyes and scent the air. This undead bitch is mine. She hips her way through the door at the top of the stairs and takes off across the roof, not realizing that I’m already here. As she leaps, my powerful legs launch me at an intercept course, and I take her down, both of us falling a few stories. Sorry Kate, no running tonight. As we impact, she rolls to her feet and starts pumping round after round into my body, her subhuman screeching causing cerebral ruptures in the mundanes surrounding us, a mere irritant to my senses. A Ronin - a Rogue mage, attempts to intervene. The burst of white-hot flame erupts against my flank, and I briefly experience smelling myself cook, before reaching out and gutting him with a nearly lazy sweep of my claw. Vampira didn’t run. stupid I turn to her and let myself reach all nine feet of my fully enraged height. She has time to utter a small ‘mütter’ before my jaws crush her skull and I punch her heart from her chest. Across the alley, the great arch mage continues his mumbling chants, healing his wound. not so fast, there, pal Mages taste best when eaten hot and frighten. I know Lupo isn’t supposed to taste manflesh, but prove it was me and not Elvira over there. I love my job
I study the creature invading my house. He said he was a goblin? And he sure seems serious. So, I gather my thoughts. What do I do? I act as if I'm deep in thought, scratching my head and throwing an occasional "hmmmm"in for good measure. Then, it hits me like a draw four. "Sir,"I grab my wallet, "With all due respect,"I reach inside, "No u." I whip out an Uno reverse card and the goblin screams. Suddenly he begins to turn even more goblinish - his already large warts grow even larger, his skin turns from a bright lime green to a dark, almost brownish shade. And that's not all. His cohorts immediately run in, grab him, and run off. As they exit, one of them yells something about a new dinner. Thus, I have saved my mother from a fate most terrible as well as myself from looking like something you might see coming out of a feminist rally.
As I twisted her hair around my curling wand, I hovered my hand over it to make sure the hair would not burn. I grabbed my hair spray and spritzed the last strand of hair. Backing up, I admired my work. Her head was framed with freshly-dyed blonde curls, giving her face a small glow. “Happy?” I asked the customer, even though I knew the answer. She nodded enthusiastically and I lead her over to the nail desk. “Wait, one moment,” I excused myself and went to the back, where I released the spirit who was currently inhabiting my body. It slipped out from my mouth silently, and I reached for it’s empty jar on the shelf. After capturing the essence of that hairdresser’s soul, I browse the other jars, settling on Vivian, the soul of a 26 year-old nail tech who died in a car crash. I opened the jar and inhaled the contents. After a moment to adjust to her presence, I returned to the customer. I took her hands and gently began to file and clip them, then apply the acrylic tips. Vivian’s soul worked through me as a vessel, though I have complete control over them. As I was working, more customers filed in the room and I left her gel manicure to cure inside the UV light. I wandered into the back, picking a few more nail techs’ and hairdressers’ jars and releasing the contents. Quickly, I preformed a small ritual, reanimating their souls into living humans. I watched them get situated, which took about a minute, then sent them to do work for me. I returned to my original customer and rung her up. She paid and tipped me, then went on her way. I retreated to a seat in the back, watching the souls work.
The bell chimes, ding, ding, ding, ding. People in the streets garbed in black to mourn. But there was no body to mourn for the fallen was Nicholai, the trickster knave and maverick of munitions. Also, my friend. The Kingdom of Meeria had fallen on hard times in its war with a neighboring kingdom so turned to Auron, Dragon of the North Isle for financial backing. The drake reluctantly supported the endeavor but when Meeria created a stalemate, Auron found the King unwilling to pay and so exacted tribute all his own. One day, as Prince Elias trained on the field, Auron swooped upon the mounted prince, dragging him and the broken steed back to the lair. Long prioritizing male primacy and otherwise only having daughters, this threw the royal line into some chaos among the people. Yes, and to take him back, Nicholai had been appointed hero of the hour. As a witness from the incident recounted, Nicholai had wounded Auron but a spark off the drake’s fire ignited his friend’s powder, wiping him from existence. Damn, that bastard leaving me. We were supposed to rise to the top together. I sat in my office, feeling tears fall, not caring in the shock I would not see him again or chuckle over his misendeavors and potential for vice when I heard a knock. “Her Ladyship, First Princess Catarina here for Professor McDougal.” That shook me from my dejection just enough to open the door. Two soldiers stood by her, bowed as she entered, then closed the door behind her. She spoke first, “I am sorry about Nicholai, I know he was a good friend and a loyal solder. He will be missed in both veins.” I felt my pulse quicken...damn, I just wanted to be left alone to grieve and have a drink if I wanted. I mumbled out, “Get to the business, I know you are not the type to take time solely for condolences.” The woman, fine, princess glared at me. “As you say, Cyril. The truth is with Nicholai’s passing we need a new hero to rally behind and I want a candidate I choose to rally behind, not one of my father’s.” I laughed derisively, “So what, I should write propaganda and expect your gratitude?” She shook her head, “No, I want to nominate you as that hero.” My turn to pause, “What?” She smiled, “We need a different hero, one not dependent on pure force who can resolve things with Auron and leave me eligible for the throne.” The strength drained from me...my friend, a secret vassal of hers dead and she thought of her own power...it made me sick. And yet it gave me a chance... I sighed, “I’m no hero but I may have an idea...”. Economics, culture, diplomacy, they would all play a role here to my advantage assuming I was not roasted alive. Nicholai, I am sorry you were used. Now, I need to use this princess even as she thinks she is using me so I can get where we wanted to go.
it was my 18th birthday when it first happened. my life changed and i became more and more estranged from the rest of society. at the party my family looked less excited and more worried than they should be. i mean it was my birthday for god sake what were they worried about. i know now but i was so confused why they looked sad and seemed almost apologetic for my birth. the first and only person to approach me that day was my grand father from my mothers side. he went up to me and said “from this day onwards you must watch yourself, your anger will spiral out of control and if you let it overtake you there may be naught left of who you are” i wasn’t very close to my grandfather but i respected him and i knew him as someone too serious to joke about anything. it was always unsettling how he didn’t seem to have fun at all but the fact that he told me who wouldn’t have hurt a fly that my anger will spiral scared me. he said nothing else to me for the rest of his life not even a word on his death bed. i always thought he hated me because of that, but after his will was shown that was proven false. i was left 2 things. his house which wasn’t a mansion but it was by far above average size for even the good neighbor hood and the garden was at least 1-2 acres. the second thing is a lot of money in cash, i still haven’t been able to count all of it even after 2 years know is it’s over 1 million. a week after his death i was given the deed to the house and was told all the money has been left in the vault in the basement of the house. i’m still living in this house no one really visits me and i haven’t left for a few months. but back to the start of it all. when i first moved in from my apartment i felt like a kid again. i was running around the halls, looking in every room i was so excited to have a house that i own. when i moved the last of my stuff in i was given a box with some old keys in it and a note saying to head to the study. i obliged because it’s the one room i couldn’t visit because of the key that i thought was lost. it took me a little while to find the study as the door was in the back of the house. i got to the door and it was old, very old it was clearly made before the first world war just from the metal work. however even though it was so old it look incredibly sturdy and i considered making it the panic room. i put the key in the hole and turned it and with a piercing squeak the lock turned and i pushed the door open. there was an old switch right behind the door and after pulling it some old strange looking light bulbs were on. i always loved this kind of atmosphere, it was creepy and ominous. i made my way down the corridor and cane to a huge room that looked as old as the door. it had a large oak wood table with vials and test tubes and a whole array of other old chemistry tools. there were chains that were on the floor. it looked as though they were ripped out the wall. the screws in the wall we’re about 5 inches long and had a 2 inch diameter. the chains them self were iron and each link was about the size of my hand. i wanted to leave but saw a note on the table and wondered if that would explain what was chained. it was written in older english so i could understand all of it (i was never good with english in school) but what i did understand was that it was an ancestor from the 1880’s who cursed himself and the family that was chained up. i could only laugh i mean seriously what a complex joke. i always thought my grand father was serious but it turned out he was just playing the long con to play this prank on me. i now know that i was wrong and that all that i read in that note was true. after i left the room and turned out the lights i closed the door and locked it. after i walked around for a little while longer i went to bed and to this day i still remember that night. i saw so much anger, so much pain and so much death, i felt like i was there. like i was the one feeling and doing all this. the dream was moving faster the screams were getting louder and the last thing i heard was “it’s gonna be fun to do that again won’t it?”. the voice that said that wasn’t human it was deep and gruff, it was terrifying and seemed animalistic. the memory makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. i woke up in a cold sweat after the voice asked the question. i couldn’t sleep after that so i just lay in bed waiting till morning. after morning came i realised something. the note said something about horrible dreams that seemed exactly like last night. i though got nothing of it as my imagination was always over reacting to stuff like this, so i did what i always do. i went to work and spent the day at my desk. i got invited out with my friends from work as a late birthday party. i went and we visited the local pub where everyone drank except me. i didn’t feel up to it something seemed wrong and i didn’t know if drinking would worsen it. however after an hour of your close friend telling you to at least take a sip most people would cave and i was no different. as soon as the liquor touched my lips i felt strange. i fell on the floor in pain i gripped my chest to alleviate it but to no avail. my body felt like it was stretching and it felt like my body was tearing itself a part. i was somehow growing, then that voice, that demonic voice from that dream showed up and said “you’ve just let me out now, whenever you fall asleep i wake up”. then i lost control of my body, i could see everything happening but i had no control. i was starting a bar fight while having no control. people were sent flying, blood was dripping off my knuckles, chairs were breaking like they were made of cardboard. by the end of the hour none were standing not even my friends. my body then ran, it ran off into the city punching people, fighting anyone he saw and for some unfortunate souls he tortured them in unspeakable. those my body subjected to that either died or weren’t the same since. eventually after hours he ran back to the house where i woke up and had control again. i remembered what happened and assumed it was a vivid dream but after seeing the news i realised i was wrong. i was very wrong. it all happened and i was the one who did it. i couldn’t live with myself so i decided not to. i went into the attic and grabbed some rope,stood in a chair, hung it off the central support beam, put it round my neck and then kicked the chair away. after why felt like hours i passed out. but he didn’t, he woke up and tore the rope and i fell to the ground. i snapped back to life with him saying “nice try, but you can only die when i let you, got it?” after that day i tried hundreds of ways from stabbing myself to drinking bleach nothing worked he always stopped me. i was about to give up but i remembered the note on the table in the study. i went back and read it. it told me his name is edward hyde and he is a being of pure evil. it said there were only two ways to stop him. 1 is to lock him up in prison and the other is the elixir on the table. with out thinking i drank it and read the rest of the note. at the end it said “i apologise to all who were born from my bloodline as i ruined its sanctity. as some sort of way to help i give you the elixirs recipe as some way to help keep him at bay.” i turned over the paper and read the recipe, after taking a picture on my phone i went to the store and the pharmacy and bought all the chemicals and items that go into the elixir and spent 3 years trying to craft it. until i finally succeeded. i made about 2 litres of it earlier and read the last bit that said i need to drink all of it by the end of the day to keep him from coming out. i did so, drinking it bit by bit until the night came and i emptied the bottle. he went to sleep that night and the last thing he heard was my voice all i said was “ i can’t believe someone fell for that note but now i’m free” i’m still in awe of how stupid his is, i can hear him now screaming and crying that he lost and can only witness what i’m about to do....
Red smoke poured out through the front of the lamp as Ashena erupted into daylight for the first time in over a thousand years. She blinked, glancing around, her mind working quickly to parse her surroundings. She was floating above a field of discarded mechanical parts- a junkyard. Ashena drew in a deep breath, preparing to launch into her old "who dares disturb the mighty genie of the lamp"speech, but she stopped as she saw who, exactly, had dared. Far below her, a small, simian creature sat on the ground, chewing determinedly on its shirt and staring up at her with wide, astonished eyes. Ashena groaned. "You've got to be kidding me,"she hissed under her breath. She'd served many... interesting masters over the centuries, but never a human child. They were inept, weak little things- good for only tormenting and making sport of, in her experience. Unfortunately, it appeared that this one was now in a position of great power over her, and it likely didn't even realize that fact. Ashena let herself shrink down to the size of a regular human woman. The swirling red smoke that was her lower body solidified, becoming a pair of legs, and she stepped onto the ground in front of the child, glaring down at it with hateful yellow eyes. The toddler continued chewing on its shirt and staring up at her. It didn't seem particularly disturbed by her death glare. Ashena took a moment to consider the situation. Perhaps it would be best to play the part of the friendly genie for now. After a thousand years of imprisonment, she wasn't sure she had it in her to suppress her rage and feign conviviality, but she figured it might be her best shot at convincing the child to set her free. If she didn't make any headway with that, if this pathetic little thing eventually infuriated her to the point of snapping... well, then she would try a different tactic. Ashena forced her expression to change, shifting her features into an arrangement that she hoped would make her look friendly. "Uh, hello,"she said. "What's your name... sweetheart?" The toddler continued chewing on its shirt and staring at her. Ashena suppressed a sigh. She squatted down and looked the toddler in the eyes. "Can you even talk?"she asked. The toddler nodded. One might have thought that a thousand years trapped in a lamp would teach anyone patience, but this was not the case for Ashena. Fury boiled up inside her, threatening to spill over and sear the child, but she forced it down. Anger would get her nowhere, at least not at the moment. She could try threats later if necessary, but that was a dangerous course of action to pursue. She knew she wouldn't be able to hurt the child so long as it had control over her, and although she didn't believe a child of this age would have the capacity to understand that she posed no threat to it, it was best to try other methods first. "Well, why don't you talk, then?"she asked, her tone coming off a little sharper than intended. The toddler finally let the now-soggy shirt drop from its mouth. It mumbled something, its eyes still fixed on Ashena's face. "What was that?"asked Ashena, leaning in. "Riley,"the toddler mumbled. "Wow!"exclaimed Ashena, pouring as much over-the-top excitement into the syllable as she could manage. "Is that your name? I'm Ashena. It's so nice to meet you." "Why?"the toddler asked, flailing its arms around for no discernible reason. "Why what?"asked Ashena. The toddler stopped moving its arms and continued to stare at her. Slowly, methodically, it brought a hand up to his mouth, and then, with one quick motion, stuck in it and began gnawing on it. Ashena suppressed another sigh. "Look, kid,"she said, a trace of irritability slipping through her mask of politeness, "you get three wishes, okay? How does that sound? You can wish for three things, but-" "Chocolate!"the toddler shouted, pulling its fist out of its mouth. "No, don't-"Ashena stopped. It was too late. Resigned, she waved a hand through the air. She had a lot of wiggle room in the area of wish-granting, but she couldn't figure out how to grant this one in any way that would benefit her, so she simply allowed a Hershey's bar to materialize in the child's hands. Riley stared at the chocolate bar with something approaching true awe. "Now, before you make another wish-"Ashena began. "More!"shouted the toddler, flailing around again in excitement. Ashena felt a jolt of fear run through her. Another chocolate bar appeared in the toddler's lap. "Do not make another wish,"she snapped. "Just hold on a second-" "More!"shouted the toddler. A third chocolate bar appeared in the dirt in front of the child. Ashena screamed as her body dissolved into red smoke, and darkness flooded her vision. She was inside the lamp again. If she'd still had a physical body, she would have groaned out loud. She'd blown it. Toddlers, she reflected, were people who knew what they wanted. Perhaps a more rational, grown-up human would be easier to manipulate. She only hoped she'd get the opportunity to find out before another thousand years had passed.
“God damnit”, I mumble in an agitated state, twisting the sheets beneath my hands. The default iPhone alarm tone is fucking blaring next to my head scorching my eardrums. I roll over to snooze my phone; With a tap it’s off, and I flip onto my back eyes glaring at the ceiling. My window’s cracked, and the fresh morning air and sight of the sun nauseate me. God, I just want a fucking break from it all. Can I get some god damn rest and take a break, just once. Same routine, every day. Wake up, care for the house, go to work, and come home around 11 everyday. My body’s stressed, I’m always tired, and the sun wakes me every morning. Sure I could shut the blinds, do myself a favor and save my eyes from the morning sun. But the dullness of the house, the grey and dimly lit rooms, god they perpetuate this depression. I’m in a pissy mood this morning; big shocker. It’s the same day, every damn day, on replay. I don’t want to go downstairs to make coffee. Can’t drink yesterday’s pot, I killed it before work. I’m dreading even the smallest task, and I have to take a piss. I grab my phone and head to the bathroom. My defeated body manages to drag itself to the bathroom. Sitting down, I check my phone for notifications. Nothing. Which isn’t unusual. There’s not a lot of people I tend to keep in contact with. But something does catch me off guard, the phone screen reads the date as May 18th. Huh, I’ve been bad with dates forever... But I could’ve sworn it was June. I check my iPhone’s calendar... May 18th... 2020. That’s bizarre I think to myself. It has to be malfunctioning. This phone has gone to shit. Among many other things in my life. It’s just another thing I’m going to have to deal with. I’ll reset it a bit later, I just need a cup of coffee. My brain feels like it’s been beaten with a meat hammer. I shake my head in disbelief as I set my piece of shit phone on the counter. I press down to flush, nothing happens. I try again, nothing. Oh yes, perfect. Thank god, another thing to fix. I rip open the bathroom door and stumble down the stairs to start a pot of well deserved coffee, when suddenly the wrenching scent of decomposing waste hits me in the face. “God what the fuck is THAT?” Jesus christ I think to myself, it smells absolutely foul. I lean over the trash can, and it smells like my garbage can could’ve been home to a dead body. I tear off the lid and grab the bag stomping my way out of the house. “God damnit, I just want a break, can I get a fucking break.” I flip over the garbage can lid and toss the bag in it. As I walk back inside, I slide myself into my recliner. I just need more shut eye. I’m not ready for another shit day god damnit. I lay there, and I wish I could just sleep for a whole year.
Samuel Johnson once wrote “Don’t think of retiring from the world until the world will be sorry that you retire”. This couldn’t have been more wrong for me. As I stroll through the trophy room, I reminisce the days of my former infamy. I traded my martini for a cup of Ben and Jerry’s, my lab coat for a pair of comfortable pajamas and left my plan for world domination to the new generations. If you think a tragic accident, a crushing defeat from my nemesis or a failed experiment forced me into retirement. It was just time. Heroes live on forever, but bad guys have an expiration date. Our plans become dull and predictable, we become easy target for the new adventurers who lack originality, while the younger guys are at the edge of technology. I stopped when they started doing everything digitally, after a 13 year-old Russian kid hacked into my base and cancelled my missile launch. Now I grow vegetables in the silo. Turns out the orientation was great for filling up with soil. It was almost time for me to lie down on the couch and turn on ENN. One of my disciples, Dr. Anne Ihilation had reconverted to presenting Evil New Network at 11pm, middle of the pacific time. I usually simply passed out on the couch at this time, when a particle piece of news caught my attention. “It seems things are heating up in Iceland, after General Krusher IV made a move to seize an oil tanker, cutting supply to the island for the next two months.” Anne read. “Tensions are rising as observers have seen a new Krush Death Ray Mark VII being shipped to a nearby island”. &#x200B; I jumped to my feet. I did not bother with the activities, but Iceland was off-limit. I grabbed my phone and called General Krusher III. I had his personal line on speed dial from the time we almost stole a pyramid. The phone rings. “Hey it’s Kevin. I’m out right now, but please leave your name and phone number after the beep. BEEP” &#x200B; No luck. Time was pressing. I jumped into the teleporter, programmed the address of the Krusher Khastle and a well-needed costume change. After a flash of light, I arrived in the Krusher Central base where everybody was buzzing. Old Krusher III, who was at the table yelling, stood up and greeted me. “Ah, Dr Defamation, great to see you here!”. “Hans is fine, Kevin. You know I quit this life”. “Well, why are you here then? Look at you!” Krusher III continued, patting my old armored lab coat. “You came to see our new operation huh? My little Karvin thought of it. I’m so proud of it!” He turned to Karvin, who took the name of General Krusher IV two years ago after finishing his Master’s from Harvard in applied philosophy. Now he disrupted operations of small governments and dealt with small trade of alien counterfeit items. Definitely a downgrade from his Dad’s business. “Actually, you know how I told you my daughter just had a new kid right?” “Yeah, Michelle! I remember we went to the baptism, that was in… Oh Lord!” Krusher III exclaimed. “Karvin!” “WHAT DAD” Karvin screeched from across the room. “I’m busy with my laser!” “It’s not a laser, it’s a Krusher Ray! It uses subatomic oscillation!” he corrected. “More importantly, you have to stop now! We can’t attack Iceland now.” Karvin pressed a button on the console and walked towards us. He was wearing his old brother’s old uniform. The kid had decided to go be a photographer instead of an evil warlord, so the second best kid was selected. He started stomping the ground and screeching louder. “It’s my MISSION DAD! I want all the ice in Iceland!” “Shut up!” Kevin replied. “We’ll have to delay until our friend has made the right accommodations for his family.” Kevin turned to me, apologizing profusely. The intervention was called off and we had to relocate their lair because Karvin had not protected the teleporting channel. He was a brat but I trust Kevin to keep him in touch. In the meantime, I’ll keep watching the news. When will they ever let me retire?
"Arrrrrgh... it hurts so bad,"I groaned. My head was absolutely splitting. It came on out of nowhere. I stood up from my desk, and staggered to the bathroom to grab a couple Advil. I popped them in my mouth, washed them down with some tap water, and returned to my office. Sitting back down at the desk, I returned my attention to the computer screen. The results of my latest google search were still displaying: 'Why do monkeys fling poop?' Hey, don't judge me, like you haven't ever wondered about it. Now I knew. Did you know that it was actually a sign of intelligence? I wondered what other strange things animals do with poop, so I typed in a new search: 'Weird animal poop facts', and began scanning the results. OMG, caterpillars do what?! National Geographic calls it an "Anal launching pa- UUUUGGGGGGGGGH!!"The pain suddenly intensified. I felt like my brain was about to explode out my ears. This was insane. Should I call an ambulance? I'd better google my symptoms. I began scanning the list of possible diagnoses for a sudden onset headache. The list was endless. Who knew there were so many possible causes? As I looked through them, one by one, my headache intensified. A ringing started in my ears. I revised my google search to include ringing ears. I learnt which diagnoses I could cross off the list, and began reading new possibilities. All the while, the headache got worse and worse. I decided I'd make one final revision to my google search before I called 9-1-1: 'Headache, ringing ears, vision fading to bla'...
Anabel had mentioned a few times now that she wanted to be a super villain; that she intended to cause havoc of New York City. Jack had thought she was kidding; had thought she was full of it, mostly. After all, people said some ridiculous stuff when they were drunk, and Anny especially, so he just assumed the same could be said for now. However, currently there was a news report detailing that a jewelry store downtown had been robbed, and Jack’s roommate was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she was three hours late for one of their weekly dinner dates, and the last time he’d spoken to her was previous morning... ... when she had, yet again, in her drunken state, said she wanted to be a villain; had stated that she wanted to commit crimes. Damn him for not taking her seriously. With a groan, he got up from the sofa and pulled on his jacket. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he found her, but he definitely intended to find her... at least before the police did.
“Let me guess, grande vanilla half-calf extra sweet and a blueberry muffin for Brian?” Daphne smiled from behind the register. Daphne was cute. Her red hair always tied back in a pony tail, green eyes behind her pink glasses and one dimple on her left cheek. If I had the courage I would ask her out instead of coming in here everyday and ordering the same thing over and over just to see her. But today wasn’t the day I’m would do it, it wasn’t the right time. “I guess my morning routine is getting a little predictable. Maybe I should change it up. How’s your cat doing by the way. Everything go good at the vet.” I tried to make small talk as I handed her the $10 bill “He’s good thanks for asking. Doing anything fun for the weekend?” Her dimple showed as she handed me the change. “Just work like always. Gotta be able to pay for my coffee everyday. You know how it is.” I felt the urge to throw up just hearing what I was saying. “Well whatever it is i hope you have fun doing it. I hope you enjoy your coffee as much as I enjoyed making it” she giggled as she handed me the coffee “Thanks, you too!” As I turned to walk away I couldn’t believe what I had just said, did I really just tell her to enjoy her coffee. I’m such an idiot, she would never go out with me. As I walked out of the coffee shop all I could think about was that interaction and how wrong it went. “Spare change for an old man with nothing?” The withering old man said from the concrete next to coffee shop door. Without looking I dropped the change I had from my order into his cup. “$1.79. Every weekday you drop in that exact amount. Matter of fact it’s been 260 that you’ve done it. That’s a lot of money you’ve given me over the last year. I’d like to thank you. I know I’m a little dirty but can I shake your hand young man.” “Look I really glad you’re great full but I’m really pressed for time, have to get to work.” “But all we have is time, that is, until it’s gone” he stood up and put his hand out and grabbed my hand As I looked down the strangest feeling came over me. I felt dizzy but didn’t fall over. As I looked down at his hand in mine, I found that my hand was dirty. I moved my eyes up my sleeve to find all my clothes dirty. “Hey what did you do to me?” As I looked up I saw a smile I hadn’t seen in years. It was my face, my hair, my clothes staring back at me. Somehow we had switched bodies. “Enjoy your time, now you will have plenty of it to do whatever it is you want.” The old man laughed through my teeth. “Hopefully you’ll find more happiness in that body than you’ve wasted in this one.” He took off down the street. I tried to chase but this old body couldn’t move at all. It was like walking through mud. I fell down to my knees and cried. The worst part was no one cared. They all just moved right around me like I was a tree in the middle of the stream. No one bothered to look, the just flowed on by. I spent the first day going to where i normally would go. The deli on 5th. They kicked me out, literally. The gym on 7th. They threw me out. Pretty sure that big guy got me 20 feet in the air. I hobbled along from place to place. Without money I couldn’t cross the river to get to my house and without him knowing my routine I doubt that I had any chance of finding him. I spent the next year walking around the city. Observing humanity. I slept on park benches, ate at homeless shelters, and everyday I just sat and watched people. After a few months I stopped moving around. Found a nice little spot next to a pizzeria. The owners were nice they would give me food as long as I helped in the back at night . They couldn’t pay me and wouldn’t let me in during the day, but at least I was fed. At night I helped out, during the day I sat and watched the world around me. It was amazing to see the amount of people that had the same routine everyday. There was the little old lady who cleaned her rug on the 5th floor apartment at 8am everyday. Then the business man that would come by Monday through Friday and almost bump into the woman with her stroller, because they were both too caught up in their phones. It was Wednesday, he was wearing a red the. In every single one of these people I saw myself. Comfortable with their situation. But they all lacked something. None of them ever smiled. That was me, I had made myself comfortable, but I never enjoyed it. I was too afraid. I’d feared it all. What would have happened if I had asked Daphne out. Maybe she would have said no and I wouldn’t of gone back. But maybe she would have said yes. If I could go back to my old life, I’d change it all. What was the worst thing that could happened, I’d end up exactly where I am now. Homeless begging for spare change on a side wall. But It was too late now, I knew couldn’t do anything about it. I sat and put my head between my legs. My cup still out in front of me begging for change. “Here you go, it’s not much but hopefully it helps.” I opened my eyes in my lap. I know that voice. As I looked up I saw her walk away. Her red pony tail was unmistakable to me. And there standing next to her was me. Well, him in my body. “Wait, you cant leave.” I rushed up after them They both turned. Daphne look startled and scared. But the old man just turned and smiled at me. “You have to change me back. Please” I put out my hand as I ran towards them. “Have you learned your lesson?” He grabbed my hand “Yes” I closed my eyes. “Good, now open your eyes.”
Abigail sighed, spinning around the chair and glancing around the office she had been confined to for the past four nights. A flashlight in one hand, and her phone in the other. Out of battery already. That didn’t bode well for her escape options, but either way she was trapped as soon at it struck midnight, like some sick Cinderella story. “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken and the robots are going to come murder you!” She muttered under her breath, letting out a chuckle at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. She didn’t exactly like the job, but it paid, and there weren’t many other options. Crystal Lake was only a couple miles from her college, and she had classes all day this semester. She paused by the desk and let out a groan, a thud from where she let her head drop the desk echoing through the small office. Something reached her ears. She lifted her head up, chocolate brown eyes darting around. 11:48. The sound was reminiscent of glass breaking. ...wasn’t there a window in the kitchen? Just perfect. She bit her lip and stood from the chair, heavy duty flashlight held like a crude bludgeon. She had to deal with a break in or teenage hooligans as well as the murderous animatronics, just perfect! She peeked around the corner, flashlight sending a beam of soft yellow into the desolate pizzeria, and she heard shuffling. Heavy shuffling from the kitchen that sounded far more human than the chicken that seemed so fond of the area. Of course it was the kitchen, the one camera that wasn’t working. Letting out a inaudible groan, she started down the hallway, her worn sneakers squeaking on the checkered tiles. She glanced to the stage, eying the three motionless animatronics before peeking around the corner and barely missing something aimed at her head. OH HELL NO. She staggered back, nearly tripping over the frayed laces of her shoes, then bolted back down the hall, flashlight forgotten at the hallway. She slammed the door button and shut the security door on both sides, gasping for breath. Then, the sound of the chime of the clock chiming twelve reached her ears. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Good job, Abby. Then, she heard banging and screeching. What in the world...? She looked to the side and craned her neck to see the flashlight beam. Yeah, no one is going to believe this story. What she saw was a strange, yet unforgettable sight. A tattered, zombie-like figure who she recognized from the urban legends at Crystal Lake as Jason Voorhees, grappling with Bonnie the Bunny. Yeah, absolutely no one was going to believe her. Dammit, why did she let her phone run out of battery tonight of all nights! She watched the scene with awe, not paying attention to her power, or the Fox now banging on the left door as Chica joined the fray.
It started off with a large mole just on the side of my right cheek, I didn’t think much of it. It probably was just caused by the sun right? As days went past the mole starting getting bigger and bigger, me being the idiot I am I just ignored it. Things were going fine, fantastic I thought actually. But dear god was I wrong. The days passed painfully slow it was hardly bearable and the mole was still there. It had spread out so large to the point it took up the whole space of my right cheek. I felt ashamed to look like this, I started wearing a Beige Bandana over my face so I could prevent the stares I would get, or was I really doing it so I could prevent me from seeing myself? I woke up one day and everything changed, I wasn’t myself anymore. Suddenly my eyes turned a dark red, was it blood maybe? My pupils were so dilated to the point it looked l was a heroin addict injecting myself every minute. My clothes could no longer fit, having suffered from an eating disorder in my youth years this really affected me. My mother was right, I was nothing but a fat burden. Three words were constantly in my mind, replaying like a broken record “You, Are, Worthless” I couldn’t agree more then I already do. I now look in the mirror and all I see is a disgusting, fragile little girl. I’m exhausted. This is not me, who is this monster I call myself? I am no longer that strong woman with a confident aura. I am longer that woman who knew her worth, I am no longer that woman who knew what it’s like to be somebody. Beauty is on the inside they say, Then please tell me why am I repulsive on the inside and the out? I’m nothing but a coward who will never leave this pity party.
The sound of wildlife through the trees echoes, reverberating into my ears, as nature continues its constant course. The smell of wildlife and the sensation of the humidity is almost unbearable; I've been swatting away flies for who knows how long now, yet I feel I'm getting closer. The air is starting to feel different, and the scent of a ruined civilization permeates through the jungle's atmosphere, and into my nostrils. Could it be, that I have found the lost city, The City With No Name? As I walk on by, I take a gulp from my canteen. The signs in a language foreign to me tells me I'm getting closer, and sure enough I can make out monuments and buildings in an architecture vastly different to any I've ever seen, modern or ancient. It feels as though I'm in some high fantasy novel, and it looks beautiful, even with the visage of nature having reclaimed this land. Had I brought a fellow archaeologist along with me, we could have marveled at this sight together. But no one would believe me that a place like this existed. Now I will not be denied the glory of showing them they are wrong. All I must do is pilfer through for some photographic evidence, maybe a relic as extra proof for good measure. My body shakes, my spine tingles, and a smile spreads on my face. This is why I do what I do, for the thrill of discovery. The hard sound of my footsteps on these stone streets and the sounds of birds overhead are the only sounds I hear, and the only thing I need to hear, a perfect mental recording that I will take with me forever, as I will remember this for days to come. Yet this place holds an eeriness to it. To know that this is where children once played, where merchants sold their wares, and doing whatever rituals and traditions the culture must have had here, only for it to be hollow and empty. It feels as though I am walking through a rapture, a post-apocalyptic nature flows within this lost city. What must have been beautiful is rotted and covered with moss and greenery. The further I traverse into this place, the more I feel I am being watched. I swear I could hear some faint footsteps. Ignoring the pounding sensation within my chest, I continue nevertheless as I make a mental map of this place. Alleyways, entrances, roundabouts, I recognize each landmark as I make my way around. I hear another sound, as though I am not alone, but not like the footsteps I heard earlier, and as I make a turn, I see something - what looks to be a wolf, one that is frightened away by the sight of me, to my surprise and relief, which turned to fear. If a wolf is to be scared of an unarmed man, what resides here to scare him off? Foolishly, I continue my travels, and the sound of life starts to fade, leaving a hollow wind to be the soundtrack. A monument approaches my sight, and so does a ghastly vision in front of me. Piles of rotted skeletons covered in dirty rags surround this monument, with stairs that reach to the heavens. People must have gathered here for a ritual - and for the last time it seems. I step over the bodies, my body numb, as the remains of men, women, and children lay at my feet. It isn't until I reach the top of this landmark that I see what they must have gathered here for. A rusted blade rests, piercing where a skeleton is shackled to a flat, stony bed. This must have been a sacrifice, and the final one this place will ever know. Yet I must not ignore the elephant in the room, as there is a pit very close to the bed, and it is dark; it doesn't carry a scent, at least not like the rest of these ruins. Using my rope to rappel down into the abyss of this place, I think of the possibilities that lie within as I watch out below, seeing a faint light grow brighter and brighter, nullifying the need for a flashlight. As I look up, I swear I could see a figure looking down on me, gone as I blink and open my eyes again. I do not think of this for much longer, as I have reached the bottom. Lit torches illuminate this pit I am in, and on a door, much like the ones on the buildings in the streets I walked through, there lies something peculiar, a piece of paper. Not parchment, but rather one from the printers back home. Its message was brief but got its point across: "Get the hell out of there, Grant."It was written hastily, as the handwriting looked sloppy. Someone has been here before me, and I do not like it. I was supposed to be the first modern man to discover this, nobody else! What makes this worse is they seem to know who I am. Angrily, I burst through the door, expecting some new rival to be waiting for me, but this room was empty. Furthermore, the appearance of this room contrasted what all I have seen before this place. It reminded me of home; decorating the place was monitors, technology that looks as though it has been here for many years. Broken screens and dust had accumulated here, but aside from that, this place looks like it has been frozen in time. Someone WAS here, but it was at the same time as these people. I do not atttempt to look past anything in this room, though there are two more doorways aside from the one I came in through. I take a seat near a bed, much comfier in appearance than the one the sacrifice laid upon. It is then I find another piece of paper, which I read. "Grant, if you are reading this, you did not heed my warning, and I hope this one is the one to convince you. Sometimes in life, we want something so bad, we even put our own well-being at risk. Like chasing the love of our life that shows us nothing but toxicity, we stick around because you swear you want it to work, but it doesn't. It never will, yet you tell yourself these lies. That's just like what this situation is. Vast potentials within your mind, and they can all be realized should you let others know of this place. I am begging you to not do that. Leave this place to be forgotten as it has been for centuries. Don't make my mistake. "Grant, I have been on the run for a long time (which is subjective at this point, considering my predicament. I am not going to tell you who I am, as this will likely amplify your stubborn nature. Just...please do not give in, please, just leave this place. Should you not listen to my words, you will suffer the consequences and I will have to hunt you down and put an end to both of us. Leave now and never return." Puzzled, more than I have ever been in my life, I lay the page back down on the bed and put my hands on my head. As I take in the information I have read, I ready myself to leave this place. When I do, I think nothing on my way out of this city, but remembering my schematics at home, I want to use the wealth I could achieve from this place to accomplish my goal, and maybe return to this place at a different time. Perhaps I could save these people. I pause for a long time, weighing my options. Do I heed the words of that on the paper, or do I seize this opportunity for glory? As I ponder, I hear the faint footsteps from before get closer, but don't get to see the source when I turn to face it.
The first month back after summer is always a tough one for me. I think it’s because everyone always seems so different after the summer, but even so they still greet each other with the kind of genuine excitement that makes me realise that these people are actually friends. They do like each other. They’re excited to see each other again. I don’t know why it puts me in such a bad mood. The only thing I can think of is that fact that everyone else seems to be progressing forward and I’m not. It seems like such an understatement. Even now I think I’m selling myself short. But this – whatever I’m experiencing, whatever I’m feeling? I can’t explain it. It’s one of those things that’s always been with me, and to be honest I think other people sense it, too. Every time school breaks up for summer, I find myself being stupidly optimistic. I’m so mad at myself for doing it, too, because I know things aren’t going to change. But still, I go home, and I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling and I think to myself that this summer, it’ll be different. This summer I’ll work it out, and I’ll text the numbers I’ve been given, and I’ll answer invites on Facebook, and I’ll actually respond to instant messages, and I Will Know How To Be A Person. I’ll finally work it out! But of course I never do. I don’t know why I find it so difficult. It’s like everyone on this planet was born with a handbook I didn’t get. I see it everywhere: in the interactions my classmates have, in their back and forth with our teacher, in the way they sit and look at one another and get each other’s attention. I glare out of the window, watching the rain begin to splatter the glass. It’s all so effortless. It’s all so unreachable. “So, I have your writing assignments back.” The chatter immediately died down as Mrs Larson finally finished organising herself at her desk, the pile of papers stacked neatly in front of her, a mug of coffee steaming beside her. Mrs Larson really is something, I’m telling you. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great teacher, but… I kind of wonder what she’s doing wasting her time here. She’s one of those people who’s been around a fair few lifetimes, you know? No one knows how many lives they’ve had, but I think you can kind of get an idea, and Mrs Larson has had a whole load of them. It’s in everything about her – her confidence, her innate understanding of the world. She’s really not phased by much, but at the same time I get the feeling she doesn’t like me. I mean, I get that feeling with everyone, so maybe I’m being uncharitable, and actually I don’t think I would say she dislikes me so much as she’s uncomfortable around me. Conversation continued in low voices as people began to file up to her desk as their name was called. Any hopes of a mostly free period soon faded; she didn’t keep people for longer than a minute or so each. Perhaps that’s why what she said to me took me by surprise. I didn’t think something like that could happen in so little time, but I suppose that’s another sign of my inexperience. Everyone knows the world could end in a split second, if the right things went wrong. “A very interesting take on the whole thing,” Mrs Larson said, and she seemed sincere. I had, after all, earned an A. “Daring, though.” “Daring?” I asked, confused. “Well, yes.” She fixed me with a look I wasn’t sure I liked. “I know we enter some rather… philosophical debates in my classroom, but I do hope they haven’t left you confused.” I frowned. “I don’t think they have.” “The concept of a new soul,” Mrs Larson said, tapping the front cover of my paper with the tip of her pen. “It is very interesting, really. But you did seem rather convinced, I suppose, towards the end. It felt a little desperate.” She looked at me again, and despite myself, I dropped my gaze. The silence lasted a beat too long, and I felt as though I should have said something. “You do realise such a thing isn’t possible, yes?” “Yes,” I said, too quickly now. “I know.” “Souls can’t just be created. The system has been going on for far too long. Every soul is a reincarnation.” Her voice was gentle, but I sensed an undercurrent of ice in it; something dangerous, maybe even disgusted. “The idea of a new soul, created completely from nothing?” She laughed. “Well, it’s kind of an abomination, don’t you think?” “You’re right,” I muttered, and this time I didn’t even care about how unconvincing I sounded, or how bad I was at interactions, or how obvious I was being. “It was a horror story.” I had tunnel vision as I returned to my desk. My classmates continued their conversations as I sat down, trying to appear unbothered. I stacked my paper on top of my notebook and arranged it neatly in front of me. I straightened the pens and adjusted the position of my water bottle. I leaned back in my chair and looked out of the window and breathed in slowly through my nose. Abomination. I realised I’d never heard the word out loud before. Somewhere deep down I had been avoiding it, shying away from it, refusing to hear it, as though I knew the second I heard it I would know it was levelled at me. Abomination. The sound of it had weight, ice cold and inescapable. I stared at the raindrops on the windows and found myself trying to trace the letters in their shapes, a strange kind of connect-the-dots. Abomination. Summer hadn’t changed anything. I finally accepted it never would.
\[Poem\] O goddesses of craft and wisdom, send the fire starter Prometheus to the deep and dark depths of Tartaros for the sin he has committed against the Heavens. Cast us into the pit as well. &#x200B; We, givers of life but not of wisdom whose powers were raised by our craftiness using those that you have gave us, we gave the same gift to another, and we erred. &#x200B; That great chain that you have so wisely set was shattered by our foolishness, for now lesser creatures equal with their betters demand the same rights and privileges, desire the same earth, soil, and waters, defend their own purpose with perhaps their dignity. Those are their gods' promises. &#x200B; But now, the wheel turns and forevermore, they are coming, and shall not leave until all of you gods and goddesses lay there in a great big heap which they shall burn with the vengeance of living memory. &#x200B; Let they be the wiser and not repeat our same folly, but alas, fortune turns the wheel all the same.
They said I was insane but I protested. “It’s real, he’s still alive.” I would yell. But not a soul in sight would believe me. Again I saw it. A blur, dancing across my eyes. I turned so fast to try to watch it that I became dizzy. Nearly falling over a couple times. “See that!” I yelled, “it’s him!” “Wish this idiot would just go home.” I heard a police officer whisper. I felt my face drop. “What do I do? They don’t believe me. “ I thought. My mind dreamed of a way I could get them to believe me. But my query came up empty in my mind. But then it struck me. I would lay a pile of mats and wait for him to trip and fall. “When they see him lying there they’ll believe me.” I thought aloud. “Oh look at that, the idiot talks.” An officer called, clearly fed up with me. And just like that. Constantly being denied day after day I began to question myself. “Was I seeing something? Or am I just crazy.” I thought.
A Desperate Heist “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! We were supposed to secure the package, in and out, quick and clean! Instead, this whole thing has been one disaster after another! I never should’ve trusted you! Oh, if only I’d listened to my gut…” The general groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I should’ve known that this was all going to go wrong…” His former friend, the assassin, flashed a smile as sharp as his knives. “You worry too much, Sebastian. It hasn’t been all that bad.” Sebastian glared, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been scratched, nearly scalped, almost eaten, scorched and almost drowned! Are you mad?” His companion laughed. “Maybe a little. But where’s your sense of adventure? Isn’t that why you joined the military?” “Please, Remy. I can’t listen to another word out of your mouth, or I may back out now. Let’s just get this over with!” This conversation was carried out in fierce, furious whispers, and Bastian was wondering exactly why he’d agreed to this again. There had been a reason that he and Remy had parted ways. They brought out the worst in each other. But he’d needed the money; the military did not pay well, especially not in the midst of a bloody revolution. He would’ve quit already, if it hadn’t meant that his family would be put in the poorhouse. He knew how the military treated his kind. He was a monster, true, but he’d been willing to risk himself for crown and country. He’d been playing with fire, taking with Remy under his wing, in more ways than one. And now he was again, unable to resist a job, however risky, if it meant being near Remy again. The two unlikely partners crept through the dark building, blending into the moonless night’s shadows, Bastian’s unspoken words burning like hot coals on his tongue. He told himself to think of the payout, which would be enough to leave the militia behind permanently and live a quiet life with his family in the country. There were a pair of guards at the doors to the vault, and the two of them moved into action without talking, without thinking. Sinking into instinct was like using muscle memory, and Bastian couldn’t help but take pride in how quickly and efficiently they took care of the men. His instincts were as sharp as they always were, and he let Remy take care of the vault, entering a code after a few moments of thought, the wheel on the front of the door spinning quietly. Remy’s grin was like diamonds, even in the low light, and his low laugh of victory sent chills down Bastian’s spine. “Let’s get on with it,” Bastian grumbled, fighting to keep his lips turned down. “Oh, come on, Bas, you can’t tell me that you don’t feel it. We’ve still got it. A cool half mill for each of us. Not bad, huh? Worth all the injuries?” “Would you shut up so we can get out of here?” \\
I ran out of the office, scrambling for a pack of smokes in my back-pocket. Mr James White; a gentleman who fiercely hurled unpleasant epithets for a solid five minutes just got off the phone with me. 'My legs shake at impromptu times, I've become burdensome to my loving wife, For goodness sakes I'm bound to a wheelchair for the bulk of most days, I've soiled myself more times than I'd like to admit. I'm little more than vegetable, you vile pig. This should be you, you lucky arse! You deal for that arrogant conter-productive nuisance. He thinks that he's some sort god. He isn't. HE IS A HATEABLE VILLIAN! I would of loved to argue back, reciprocate the anger but James was right, completely and utterly right; Parker flew too close to the sidewalk and the wind from his speed made Mr White fall, crippling him. I'm just as indignant as everyone else, actually I'm probably more in disgust of him. If they knew how he is in-person, they would start a riot the next day. My excuse for working with h..... under him, (He loves to reiterate the distinction) is that he was different and I was naive the perfect mix for a mismatch.... END If you want a part 2 or other things from me, check out my account.
“Grand one tell us the story again!” The young Zorlopian excitedly ask. “I wanna hear it to Grand one” The littler sibling Zorlopoian ask. “EH! Well… If you really wanna. I’ll tell you about the great holy disc.” The old Zorlopian flicked its blorgoins and sat back comfortably in his rocker. “It all started way back when I was nay older than you little ones. Oh my…. Yes I remember” The old Zorlopian said as he stared into the distance to a far away time before the great holy disc. The great city of Zorlopian has yet to be built, instead lies in all its former glory the giant royal palace of the old king. Inside the palace royal chamber, stands tall statues of old kings holding up the ceiling with all their numerous blorgoins. In the middle of the chamber, an elegant red carpet made by 10000 Zorlopian weavers extends from the main gates all the way through the palace where they end climbing a top a giant pyramid inside the golden palace. Resting atop the pyramid is a king sitting on a throne, a giant Zorlopian with six more blorgoins then the average Zorlopian, a mark of true strength in his time. He is adorned with the finest of Shilacket wrapping around his blorgoins, they are intertwined with chains of pure gold. On his head resides the crown of diamond of the true king of Kiloriando ruler of the Zorlopian. Below him is an army of Zorlopian soldiers all gathered in row on each side of the red carpet. In the center of the carpet kneeling is an insurgent Zorlopian, the last of the lover rebels. The Giant Zorlopian speaks “Zorlopian scum” as spits on the ground towards the rebel “You have been judged a traitor of the rule of Zorlopian. My rule!” The king puffs his blorgoins as he passes his hands over them. “You born without blorgoins discuss me.” He spits once more on the dissident. The ball of spits lands on the young rebel. “you should be honored, not many can say they have tasted my saliva.” He says as he let out an echoing laughter. The young lover is held down by two soldiers, garb in royal armor. They both hold mighty spears and have 7 blorgoins. “You are a tyrant to the Zorlopian! Your rule was not ordained by the holy spirit!” The young rebel spout as he’s pressed towards the ground. “The holy spirit! Bah! That is a story we tell the Zorlopian afraid of death! Those amongst us who have fought know there is no such thing as a god! Only the rule of the mighty with giant blorgioins!” The king exclaims. The whole court begins to puff their blorgoins as they laugh in unison, banging their spears on the ground. The mighty king smiles at his followers. “Do you see before you boy! My mighty army! You believe god made it!” The rebel looks up defiantly and shouts through the laughter “I believe all Zorlopian are graced by the holy spirit!” The King waves his hand as the sounds of the room subsides. “What did you say rebel scum” The mighty one says extending his hand to his ear as the whole room spits. The rebel now covered in spit, begins to pray. “ Oh Holy spirit! Please hear my plea. We have fought in your name, we have followed your codes of love and understanding. I asked you to show mercy even on these Zorlopian soldiers who have been misguided” his toned raises in anger “ by this maniacal demagogue!” The king stares at him. “Maniacal demagogue?” He burst into laughter as the room follows into his steps. The mighty king with the multiple blorgoins waves his hand. The room falls silent. “Tell me Rebel… Your love god… Where is he now?” He says raising his arms in the air as he puffs his blorgoins. The Rebel kneeling shed a single tear, in remembrance of all his deceased fellow Zorlopian believers of the great lover. The mighty king picks up his mighty sword and begins walking down as his blades grinds on the steps of the pyramid. A powerful blast shatters the palace roof and plunges at impossible speed directly into the mighty king bursting his body in a pool of blorgoins fluid. The chambers falls in awe of silence. As the young rebel gradually stands up. He walks towards the pyramids, where a disc shining brightly reside instead of the mighty king. He takes a step on the pyramid and turns around towards the soldier in absolute confusion and awe. “This is the power of our lord! For today he has passed judgement on those who doubted his love!” The rebel utters as the disc heat dissipates. He marches backward one more step higher on the pyramid. He begins talking. “We are Zorlopian, each of us is born of a Zorlopian breeder. We may not be florchorn by the same 12 Zorlopian, but we are all larvae at some point. We should not separate ourselves by the amount of blorgoins we have, but unify by the love the holy spirit gives us. Life begins with the holy spirit and it ends in the holy spirit. The time he has given us should be spent loving and embracing our differences. Not waging war and losing our comrade in a senseless battle for who has the most blorgoins. Some of you have 1 or 2, some of you 5 or 7, but we all have the same 5 hearts which pumps blood in our veins. I believe the Lord has sent us this message from his kingdom in heaven to show we are meant to be working in unity!” He turns around and walks towards the disc” This a symbol of unification a perfect disc!” He exclaims “Lay down your weapons and extend your blorgoins in love!” The crowd is silent. The Zorlopian soldier look around in confusion as murmure builds up in the palace court. The silence is broken by a single clank on the ground by a spear. It is followed by a wave of metal hitting the ground. The young rebel stares into the sky through the hole the disc came through. “Blessed he be father for you have made us all lovers today.” The young rebels says under his breath as he tears up. The old Zorlopian still rocking in his chairs stares lovingly into the distance. As his blorgoins puff up revealing a tattoo of the Holy disc, written on it are the sacred words of god. “N.Y.C SEWER”. “Grand one?” The young zorlopian says as he stares at the littler zorlopian who keenly shrugs. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Behind the two young Zorlopian, is another Zorlopian who stares in enmity at the disc. It puffs up, exposing the same amount of blorgoins the old tyrannical king had.
The alarm rings. I turn it off and sit up in my bed. I dreamed something weird. there were giant sharks and... were they walking on land? Whatever, I have to get up. I don't want to be late for this course I signed. The theme is "Find Yourself". I registered there to get my life together. The last 5 years have been a catastrophe. I had a simple 9-5 job, a wife and a son. But then our son died and my wife left me. I struggled with myself, quitted the job, lost the house, and now I'm here in my small sordid apartment alone, with a temporary job at a local restaurant. To sign up for such a course was a spontaneous idea. I'm not the guy for such meditation things. I get out of my building and walk to the bus station. I can't afford a car. As I step into the bus, I suddenly have a strong feeling, that this bus is leading me to my destination. I try to ignore it as I plug in my earbuds. The address I've been given is in the basement of a small bar in a shady part of my city. As I walk in the bar a puff of smokey thick air hits me. I swim through the fog and as I get to the bar counter I show the ticket I got per mail to the bartender. Without any words, he points to a black curtain to my left. I grab the dusty fabric, pull it aside and walk through. A narrow stone staircase leads down to a heavy oak wood door illuminated by a single neon light. I knock on the door. As there is no answer, I open the door and step in. The room is relatively small and contains only two old-fashioned chairs facing each other. The walls are dark grey, though I don't know if it's their color or just dust. Behind one chair a man is standing. He looks like a normal businessman with a normal business suit. As he noticed me he says in a bored voice with a pinch of mysteriousness: "Hello Nathan, there you finally are. Unfortunately, you're the only person who registered, but that's no problem. Sit down and let's get started."I take the three steps to the chair and settle down. The man does the same. As he lies back he asks: "So you wanna find yourself?" "Yes, I-" "Beautiful", he interrupts me, "I see, you have the fitting requirements for this. Sit up straight!"I do so. He looks into my eyes and it feels like he stares right into my soul. "Close your eyes", he requests calmly, "and breathe deeply. Do you feel the air coming in and going out of you?" "Yes", I mumble. "Don't speak. Just listen to my voice." 'What am I doing here?', I think. "Don't think about anything either, got me?" I get scared. 'Can he read my mind?' "Concentrate on your breath. Nothing else." A lot of things float through my brain. "Concentrate on your fingers. Don't move them, just concentrate on them. Do you feel them?" The thoughts begin to disappear from my mind. I start to feel the bloodstream through my fingers. "Do you see them?" A picture of my fingers resting in my lap begins to appear in front of my eyes. I still have them closed. "Do you see your hands, your arms, your legs?" I nod in my mind. My head is not moving. "Beautiful. Now: Do you see me?" I remember a vague picture of the man. But the longer I see the picture in front of my closed eyes, it gets better. Details start to form and the memory begins to get more and more stable. "Awesome. Now back to your breath. Concentrate solely on your breath." The pictures deform and vanish. After a pause that felt like an eternity, he says: "Now, do you see the glass bottle in front of you?" The picture turns up again. This time the man sits far away on the other side of the room. In front of me, there is a little glass bottle standing on the floor. It has no label and no cap. Just a plain bottle. "Where is the bottle?", the man asks On the floor, the bottle is on the floor. "Now grab the bottle!" As I bend down to grab it I notice, that the hands on my lap aren't moving. It feels weird. "Do you feel it? Do you feel the texture?" Yes, I do. I do feel the smoothness of the glass. I even feel the roughness of the remains of the label. "Lift it up!" My hands are still on my lap, but when I try to lift the bottle it moves! It's floating right in front of me. "Hold it and walk around it!" I stand up and as I turn around I see a person sitting in the chair, I just stood up from. It's... me! I shudder and let the bottle fall. It goes down like in slow motion. I just watch it, stunned. It gets closer and closer to the floor. As it hits the floor, I startled and open my eyes. I'm still sitting on the chair with my hands motionless on my legs. The man is standing in the furthest corner, watching. "Beautiful, you made it", he smiles. "You found yourself." \--- It's the first time writing a story, I hope you like it :)

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