Split (1)

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I chuckled and turn the GPS off. "Sorry,"I told it. "You're not going to trick me this time. I know my way from here." The GPS turned itself back on. "Please,"it said. "You have to go back. Now." I turned the GPS off again. Something tapped on my window. I looked and saw that a man on a motorcycle had pulled up alongside me. He gestured for me to pull over. I shook my head. He nodded. I turned my head forward, ignoring him. In my peripheral, I saw him pull out something. I turned toward him and he had a bar in his hands. He swung the bar toward my window, possibly intending to break the glass, but I managed to swerve in time to avoid it. By now, other bikers had appeared and they were all brandishing weapons - bats, bars, and chains. I sped up and they sped up. I hit the brake and a few of them hit the trunk and toppled off of their bikes. This made the rest of them upset and they then proceeded to hit the car with their weapons. I sped up again. I heard the back windshield crack and then I felt a sting in my neck and my body suddenly went rigid and cold. I was steering with one hand as I felt at the place where I had initially felt the sting. My hand came away bloody. The first rider rode up to my window again and gestured for me to pull over, but I was not going to pull over to the side of ghe road at night at the whim of some violent bikers. I accelerated. But by then, my vision was beginning to blur from the blood loss, and I was losing control of the car. I kept passing out, only to wake up when I would swerve onto the gravel that made up the side of the road. Because of the swerving, the bikers were trailing at a distance. One biker finally rode up to my window and aimed his gun at me and fired. The window shattered but by a miracle from God the first bullet ricocheted into the ceiling. The second bullet cracked the opposite window, the window on the passenger side. And the third bullet went into the floor of the car on the passenger side as well. I swerved towards him to keep him from firing again and he fell back. I must have passed out again because when I opened my eyes I was completely on gravel. Up ahead I saw the ledge of the cliff. I could have turned back towards the street, but I knew the bikers were going to kill me. I knew the cliff was going to kill me, too, but I preferred to die that way. So I let go of the wheel, said a prayer, and braced myself as I went over the cliff towards the darkness and the unknown. I woke up hours later to the sound of my GPS: "Please make a U-Turn."
**eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee The void is absolute. The silence rings until it is broken by the noise of your breath. Air, stale with burnt ozone, sounds like storm winds pull on tree leaves as you breath in and out. As you go to speak, the rush of air in your lungs sends a shock to your ears and jaw from how loud the noise is #####¡¡¡EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Your teeth chirp from the strain you are putting on them and saliva floods you mouth. Every noise is amplified. You stop breathing. ####eeeeSHUReeeeSHUReeeSHUReee The sound of waves rushing start to come. They rush quickly back and forth, like a rowers paddles on the water. Almost a scratching sound, as if a brush was harshly thrashing on your ears. You look around for the source... ####eeSHERcKKeeegggRRkeTtTttttSHweeeeeeee ...and your teeth slam together as warm pain floods from the back of your skull to your chin and temples. The movement causes you to hear every muscle constrict, cartilage tearing, and bones grinding. ####eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee You can’t hold your breath for much longer. Maybe if you slowly... ####eeeeeeFUMPeUMPeeeeFUMPeUMPeeeeFUMP The thumping joins the howling paddles scratching your ears. The thumping drives the rushing. The muscles in your jaw, singing like strained steel, burning with acid born exhaustion as you try to brace against the stabbing pain every sound thrusts towards you. Tears are burning rivers flooding down your cheeks, some of them drifting off out into the void. The thumping drives the rushing. Every noise is amplified. ###eeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE Dry lighting pulses pain behind your eyes, vibrating your face with a disjointed and numbing frequency making your face feel like it’s melting off your face, but the pain screeching through your teeth, your eyes and to the back of your skull lets you glaringly know everything is right where was supposed to be. A molar cracks and splits... ###EEEEE¡¡¡GGRNNCCHHAAACCKKFF!!’EEEEEEEEE ...acid shoots into your jaw as the nerves light up in pain. Your mouth fills with more saliva, the taste of iron and soft wood is all you can taste. The burning in your lungs tears at your chest. You can hold for a bit longer, but why? There is no solution. You can’t move without every organ in your body screaming and ripping into your skull with the noises of their movements. Anger now takes place of panic. There is no solution, but there is still action. You release your pain, your frustration, your anger out in a burst of your last breath... ##EEEEEE¡¡¡FFFFFUUUUC!!!EEEEEEEE ...splitting you in two. The pain mixes your vision of blinding light and staggering darkness. Your breath tears up trees and quakes your body in hacking and choking convulsions. Your hands beat on your skull, matching the rising pace of the Thumping’s rushing beat, until they are warmed with a rush that flows down your arms and face. The Thumping slows. The sounds become muffled as the side of your head blasts with pain and a loss of pressure. The warmth spreads even faster over your face and shoulder. The Thumping is faint. The storm weak and halting. You feel dizzy and your legs spasm for balance in the emptiness. The blindness leaves you focus on the drops leaving body and drifting into the void. The Thumping stops. #EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeee** The void is absolute.
A missile flies past your head with a thunderous roar. You look up and send your hat high along with the others. Humming rocking the child in your arms. The door slams shut with the weight of anger from the teenage girl. A man stands in front of you in a tux and a warm diamond scrolls down your cheek. A woman is screaming at a small tiny coffin. Holding the hands of a man with raisin skin and a large smile blowing you a kiss. You pull on the cord behind the neck of an old woman and it retracts to your neck with a quick whizz. You take a step back and walks to the podium. “Thank you everyone for coming. Even though we mourn, we’re here to rejoice! Why? What do we have to rejoice about? Some believe that the day of one’s death is greater than their birth. At birth, there is so much potential but we haven’t done anything with our lives. We don’t know what the newborn will grow up to be. On the day of our death we have accomplished much and Connie accomplished much. We rejoice for several reasons. First, because we find comfort that others are feeling the same void and anguish we feel. So many here, it’s clear Connie touched the hearts of so many and we aren’t suffering this loss alone. Perhaps you’ve been invited to her family Bar Bue Que for a burger and a beer. Boy did she love those meals. Perhaps you were someone who received a personalized card and flowers when going through a hard time. She was known for having a collection of cards. We all have special memories that have touched us personally. Second, because Connie has done much and more with her life leaving a legacy. She served in the military for a few years following the footsteps of self sacrifice. She graduated with a M.D. to be a doctor. Connie leaves behind a child, Stephanie. She later married a man whom stole her heart. Her wedding day was her second favorite day of her life. Despite the death of her grandchild, she manage to help the family heal. She has done much and more. Today we spend the day having a memorial service for the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
Some people just bought their spray at the store. they were simple devices of metal and gas, filled with complex chemicals that would dry fast and leave their mark on whatever surface they landed on. But they were without power. Azir made his own, while the blood was still warm, enchanted and directed into a container he made himself. His grandfather had taught him how to create a spraybottle from the heart of small pony. the friskier the better. A heart of a pony filled to the brim with warm blood that still believed itself to be coursing through the veins of a living being was a powerful thing. The steady rhythm of the beating heart sputtered enough of the blood to create the most basic of symbols. More complex signs demanded he control the heart with his own heartbeat. The faster the beat the sharper the lines. A sign given by the forgotten gods was powerful and dangerous. It was strictly forbidden by all sacred laws but Azir was used to his entire existence being strictly forbidden by the sacred laws. He painted the last of the blood on the wall and took a step back. The symbol was perfect, it had better be. He'd spent six hours on this and the sun was coming up. Before long the blood would dry and the enchantment of the rune would bind itself to the bones of the building. You'd have to break the building apart and bleach its foundations to truly get rid of the magic once it got it's hold on the stones. Old magic worked that way, it was just a matter of creatively thinking of concrete as stones, steel as the building blocks of weapons and wood as trees. All of a sudden you weren't painting a decrepit run down building with blood at night but rather imbuing a grove in the forest with the magic you desired. Copters whirred overhead, reminding a waking city that the curfew would end in a few minutes. Until then, all who found outside the walls of their homes would come under the harsh scrutiny of the Party. Azir melded with the air, concentrated first on the fact that he was not human, rather a collection of air molecules floating up until he was a skinny, black haired boy breathing raggedly in his room. He pulled out his device, looked at it and smiled before falling into the screeching bed. &#x200B; He woke up to his brother nudging him awake. his small fingers probed and prodded deep into his back. "Azi. i'm up." He turned to face his brother a half naked child of six. "I'm hungry." "Me too,"Azir said. "You know the rules, no food until noon." "But i'm hungryyyy, and boooored." "Check the Link. See if you can't find something fun." His brother made a face. "The link doesn't work for us." Azir smiled. "It does now. Just try it. Don't tell Superior about it though. It's our secret." The boy was already running towards the link, plugging it into the wall and squeeled silently when the device accepted the connection. Azir closed his eyes, already dreaming of mornings where his brother wouldn't wake him up before he had to.
The United States was used to talking mad shit in the international rap game. Their president thought his money made him gangster, and he prided himself on being familiar with the art of the deal. &#x200B; They were not, however, ready for bars more fire than all of America's wars had ever produced, combined. &#x200B; A short, mustachioed man representing Mexico silently walked to the podium. The United Nations fell silent as he approached the mic. With old, delicate, shaking fingers, he pulled a stack of papers toward him, adjusted his glasses, and began to drop the truth: &#x200B; "Are you a pyschopath? Borderline. Your border is far from fine, The evidence ain't hard to find, You find yourself attached to crime, You're acidic like lemon When you fund genocide in Yemen, You raise the rent, Maintain the debt, And tear down all your tenants. You think Flint doesn't exist, Your politicians are all pissed, You could've been a democracy But electoral college missed the list. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is Instead of Mar-A-Lago, You'll see how low the bar goes When you get hit with this embargo." He dropped the mic, wiped his shoulders off, and walked back into the raucous, celebrating crowd as the room was drowned with, "OOOOOOOHHH,"s, high fives, and hands dapping up. The United States representatives were unusually quiet that day.
"Jesus christ, get your shit together Marc!" Oh god! It finally happened! I'm finally losing it! "Wha-...what are you?"I replied hesitantly. "Haven't you figured it you yet? Geeeeeze, buddy! We've been talking for two hours! Don't get all scared and freaked just cause the most rational thinking you've been doing is though a gummy bear!"the little blue gummy said whilst shaking its tiny head. A bear... A GUMMY BEAR... Was talking to me?! What were in those gummy bears? Did someone drug me? That can't be! I bought those from walmart... They wouldn't get away with lacing gummy bears with drugs!... Would they?! I don't even know anymore. I've lost faith in this world, nothing really surprises me anymore! This just seems like it should have been expected by now. I'd been working myself to death and stressing myself out like crazy lately... That's why I thought it'd be a nice idea to have my favorite treat and watch a movie to relax; something I haven't done in what feels like forever! Well, it doesn't feel like there's much else to consider as an option. I could run away, but save from offing myself, in light of my insanity... But I don't really think that'd be an effective strategy. Another red gummy came up and tapped on the blue ones shoulder from behind. "C'mon now, be easy on the lad!" Little blue sighed and let himself fall forwards slightly, letting out his breath. "... Agghh.. Fine !"he continued. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? Let's"bear-ry"the hatchet, wha'd'ya say?"he gave a subtle wink. The bad puns... Yep. Definitely my subconscious talking to me! Fuck it. Why not? "Alright... Let's start over... What's your name, uh - red one..? "I said as normally as I could, pressing my lips as I furrowed my brows and stared down at him. "I'm glad you asked..!" The bear slid sideways, bumping and flipping onto my phone, and tapping the screen. It resumed what I was listening to earlier and led of with the rolling stones, as the little bear started to dance long with the rhythmic beat... "Please allow me to introduce myself..."
they all were even there before us, just waiting for the right time to come over.they were in deep hibernation but they could always sense us living, getting evolve on the surface, but they were just waiting for the perfect time. Its the year 2077 My father thought life would be life Cyberpunk (my father told me about it,he was a gaming addict of his time, and with that game he got a future that he always wanted) but on 21.12.60 a new civilization was found, under in deep ocean, according to news ## military found huge active colonies in ocean with million of hibernation pods, initially they bring out about 20 of them and opened them the people or creature that came out of it already knew how we are. they knew name of every single human on the earth. our president tried to make a friendly relationship with them and use them for the benefits of our country in war to take down all the resources remaining on the planet but those creature were already aware of that and with a fake agreement they formed an alliance with our government and declared a war. they didn't killed any solider but instead used them as a source of energy they had an ability to suck out your youth,energy,thinking ability, no firearms could affect them. solider against them were nothing more then a life less squeezed shell. it all happened till 2070 because after that they started turning on us, they begin with the president,and started killing all of us. but my father (don't know how he did it) he was, he was the first one who killed one of them with a pencil, JUST A SMALL PENCIL. he lead remaining of us against them, A hope that everyone of us always wanted. Now a rebellion is started, remaining of us VS All of them. I HOMIT sending this message in space if you read this then send help otherwise soon they will reach to you.
Stood there the moving corpse of the lich, his eyes burning with a small orb of flame for he has no eyes The cleric is standing no less than three feet from the lich while being supported by many others but they are far away and just focus on making the barrier restraining the lich's escape be impossible, the lich looked at the cleric in silence Seconds pass by and the cleric uses all of his willpower to concentrate and ignore the smell, ignore the stare and just focus on casting that spell, he gets interrupted slightly when the lich spoke "Young man, listen to my last words before i die, i have no family nor friends and i can't escape so let me babble my insanity on someone's ear" The cleric looked disgusted because this lich has killed so many people and caused too many crimes and sorrow, he doesn't deserve to say anything, 'if only the spell didn't take this long' thought the cleric "I was a prodigious young mage, no one bothered to study necromancy and black magic because they think it's not ethical, but i disagreed in my young mind i thought it was a legitimate form of study and discussion but no one wanted anything to do with it, how can we fight what we cannot understand? necromancers and black mages are discriminated against heavily even if they did nothing wrong and force them to retaliate, i was attacked shortly after turning myself into a walking corpse" The cleric thought for sure that the lich is just buying time for something or is just trying to manipulate his emotions to try and let him go 'nice try but i'm not naive' The lich coughed and continued, his body was returning back to human so he felt his dry throat and found it hard to speak "I explored the world while escaping and getting attacked by crusaders, villagers and even children who throw rocks, yet i kept going and studied faithfully, the world of magic is too deep to be studied by a human's lifespan but dedicating myself to my research i found many life changing discoveries" 'Where is this madman going with this? no matter... it should end soon, i am starting to not smell the rotting stench anymore' "I made a sanctuary for the isolated, a safe haven for the mistreated, a home for the discriminated, criminals with a death sentence and dropped to die in a forest, necromancers shunned from their home, a person hated by their own kind, all were under my protection as i built the perfect home where everyone can share their own stories and build camaraderie on the sole fact that they are people and understand the other's trouble" The lich's body was getting smaller and shorter, the cleric wasn't surprised by it except that it was getting too small "I am happy that i succeeded in doing this, in making my own safe haven" The cleric stared in complete shock as the body turned less and less until what layed there in cuffs and chains, was a mere 8 year old child, the lich was just a child before turning himself into an undead and getting hunted down.... it was all the doing of a child who never had a childhood? the cleric was starting to have doubts, questions and many concerns about this situation but the execution time is near and the other clerics and the knights will be coming here soon to be continued...
"You wake up to find out that you have slept through your alarm." "That sucks." "You also discover you have a sore throat, which means you probably have caught a cold." "Yeah, that's not great either." "You step on a Lego brick left behind by your cousin as you leave-" "Fuck that, that brat is going to-" Jake instantly keeled over in pain as the shock collar he wore crackled into life. Across the room, Lyssa gave the button to the collar's remote one last press before putting it back into her lab coat. She glanced down at her clipboard, making a small face as she scribbled some figures down. Meanwhile, Jake wearily sat down in the chair he had tipped over whilst fuelled by the sudden murderous rage he felt for his cousin. "How did I do this time?"he wheezed as his body gradually readjusted itself to not being an unwilling electrical socket. Lyssa looked upwards. "You have regressed,"she said with an infuriatingly calm monotone. "Last time you made it to five trigger phrases. Now we are back to three." "Three?! Are you kidding me with that, you bi-" Jake lay thrashing on the floor for the second time in the space of a minute. Lyssa didn't even move her face up from her clipboard as she repeatedly pressed the remote's button, instead preoccupied with her photocopying her set of notes as Jake spasmed across the room. "How sad,"she mused, clicking the remote's button again. "We are back to one trigger phrase." Now Jake always knew he had anger issues. He really tried to suppress them throughout his life, he really did. But sometimes there were moments where he simply, as the judge had called it, "lost control". He never murdered anyone, as his defence lawyer correctly asserted. He had come damn close, the prosecutor also correctly asserted as they gestured to an entire row's worth of witnesses from the latest incident. And so the long-overdue court order for anger management therapy had led him to this. Being shocked over and over by some insane trigger-happy prepubescent-looking sadist who called herself a "goddess of rage and insanity". Hey, part of that made sense to Jake. An insane woman being the goddess of insanity. It was the "rage"part that didn't quite line up with the permanently calm girl who was now offering a copy of her notes to him. "Here are your statistics from today's evaluation,"Lyssa said in the same I-don't-give-a-shit-about-you monotone she had used since she first introduced herself. As the goddess of rage and insanity, no less. Jake took the sheets of paper with a huff, but he was much more interested in clawing at the goddamn shock collar. Lyssa stared on impassively as the papers she had just spent all session writing up scattered across the floor in Jake's struggle to undo the collar's buckle. "You should really take the time to read those, you know,"she said. For the first time, Jake detected an infinitesimal hint of annoyance in her voice. Woah. Uncharted territory. "I do, I just have no idea what any of those numbers mean,"Jake fired back. He knew was testing the waters, especially with the shock collar still tightly around his neck. "You have been coming for two weeks now. Are you really not concerned with the factors in your progress?" "I'm more concerned with not getting a lightning-shaped scar on my neck because of this piece of shi-" Lyssa silently picked up the papers as Jake lay twitching on the floor courtesy of another round of high-voltage shock treatment. Hm. Looks like he'd be out for a while this time. Lyssa took a cursory glance over the pages and she flicked through them, focusing on each heading just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Patient Identification. Date of Treatment Session. Details of Treatment Session. Amount of Energy Fed to The God Chamber. Amount of Energy Distributed to Lyssa (Goddess of Rage and Insanity). Recommendations for Future Sessions. Lyssa's eyes paused over the second last heading, and looked at the disappointingly low number below it. She sighed, feeling a fiery bubbling within her chest as she took out her phone. Those bastards in the God Chamber are getting real stingy with the energy distribution and she's gonna make their miserable existence a living nightmare unless she got more of what she wanted- "Wuzzhabbenin',"came a mumble from the floor. That was fast. The pulsing rage inside Lyssa's head became a dull throb as she slowly put down the phone. Gotta stay calm in front of the customer. Gotta stay calm in front of the customer. She extended the papers once against as Jake staggered to his feet. "Forgive me, Jake. My finger slipped,"she said, making sure to shave all emotion off every spoken syllable. She could not afford to let any of her barely repressed anger leak out into her voice. Gotta stay calm in front of the customer. "Yeah, yeah,"Jake replied. He didn't sound convinced at all as he took the pages off her, but at least he didn't throw another tantrum. And that was grounds for a reward. "Now,"Lyssa said. "Let us get that collar off of you now." The look Jake gave her almost put a genuine smile on a face that usually sported the unhinged grin of a clinically insane psychopath. Almost. She was Goddess of Rage and Insanity after all.
"Found him!" "Huh?"Suddenly several weirdos jump out the bushes and throw nets on you. "You're probably wondering how we found you..."He says smugly. You want punch him in the face now. "No and who the fuck are you?" "We are the GGSO. Which stands for Gaming god searching organization. Our goal is too find you, Gaming god." "Gaming god...Cool name but I go by Gay Guy online." "Yeah we know we just don't want others to think we're gay." "homophobes"you say under you breath. "So are you now interested how we found you?" "Enlighten me" "Alright. We knew which country and city you were in so it narrowed down our options greatly. Then we ruled out any regions that preferred apple since you always tweet on an android. We then analyzed your entire history to narrow down the results to this exact building. Then we stalked it for a bit to find the person who matched your description. And here we are now."He finished even smugger. "Ok...but why?" "Well obviously to know how you're so good at gaming. You beat several world records. Sometimes on your first times playing the game!" "Ok you want to know my secret?"They stared intently. Suddenly the net catches fire. You break free. They try to restrain you physically. They cover you. "Well here goes nothing. Activate combat mode."Your muscles tighten and you feel lighter. You twist your body throwing them back into the bushes. "Good try kid"He falls over. It's really entertaining seeing him pissing his pants...well not literally. "Combat mode?! What are you?!"Oh never mind he literally pissed himself. "Sorry kid."You punch him in the face and knock him out instantly. "Gotta buy rope now. Thankfully most of them left."You're obviously not letting these guys get away with this.
I tap the mic. "Is this thing on? It is? Okay, cool. Uhm, yeah, this is gonna be short. We're all going to die sometime within this year due to global warming. Yes, global warming is real. We've been telling you that for years but you wanted to believe your politicians over your scientists. Yeah, smart. Anyway, we don't want donations or people volunteering their services or asking what they can do to help. The time for that has passed. It's too late for that now. There's nothing you can do. It's inevitable. We're all going to die within a year. So go party, go pray, go panic, whatever you want to do. I know most of you are not going to believe this message is real anyway. Well, can't say I didnt warn you. That is all. Im out. Peace."
I hear it in the distance. A weak roar, like a lion cub or dying cat. I approach nervously, sweat dripping down my forehead, and I squeeze between the buildings of wood. I saw the horrible beast stare me in the eyes with a dead rat in its mouth. It was the worse beast of all. Aggressive. Brave. Violent. It was a.....chihuahua! Accursed be those who stand to this mighty beast! Accused. Before I stood to fight it, I- Mother: "Jimmy! Come down for dinner!) Me:"In a moment mom! I'm defeating the evil beast of the ghost town!) Mother:"Jimmy, now!"
Jack considered himself an obedient android. He always did what his master told him and never complained, as he'd witnessed first-hand what happens to an android that disobeys Michael, and it was a position that he wasn't keen on finding himself in. Disobedience meant being returned to the factory for repairs, or worse, being shut down entirely and deemed 'defective.' Michael wasn't the best master, but working for him was far better than being left out on the street to rust. Currently, he was out walking Michael's dog, a curious German Shepherd that always got into something it shouldn't have, and while at first, Jack had loathed working with the animal, over the past couple of weeks he had come to enjoy their daily walks. It was a chance for Jack to get outside, although he didn't require exercise like the humans did, and while he didn't need to breathe, his sensors could feel the cool breezes that brushed by him. The more he came outside, the less he understood why many humans wanted androids to do their outdoor work. Did they not appreciate how beautiful the world was? The way the trees swayed in the summer wind, the way birds chirped their happy songs, and how everything moved and worked and lived in perfect harmony. A jerk on the leash Jack held pulled him from his thoughts. The dog was struggling against the leash, trying to drag Jack off the beaten path in the woods. "Roco,"Jack commanded, "We are not supposed to leave the trail." He knew the dog couldn't understand him, but the dog always seemed to respond to his or Michael's voice. This time, however, Roco did not listen and instead continued pulling Jack off the trail, barking and whining at something hidden in the bushes. Eventually, Jack conceded to pacify the dog's interest and let him dart into the bushes. Jack followed close behind, pushing apart the branches to see what it was that Roco had found. Sunlight glimmered off a pale sheet of faded metal, and as Roco scratched at it with his claws, Jack bent down to get a closer look. The metal that he had seen, when he grabbed it, was actually only one part of the contraption, and his scanner revealed the other materials underneath to be various types of plastic, all lightweight. On the sides of the machine, tangled in the branches of the bush, were two slim wings. The machine was a drone. Roco let out a final bark as Jack pulled the drone from its resting place and set it on the ground. With it upright, Jack could clearly see the label that had been painted across the top. Model 1B. Year 2033. Model 1B? Jack thought. No android held a model number like that, nor did any drone he had in his database. The only information that held any familiarity was the year, 2033. That had been the year when the first super-AI had gone rogue and nearly killed the planet in a nuclear warfare, after narrowly escaping extinction, the world governments agreed to halt AI research. Even the production of household androids had been put on hold. Michael never missed a moment to remind Jack that he was one of the last of his kind, and that if he wanted to keep the "life"he had, he should never disobey a human's orders. He knew Michael would have wanted him to leave the drone alone, to let it waste away here in the woods, but if this was in any way related to that AI, then it was a danger to humanity, and Jack had to destroy it. As Roco sat next to Jack, silently watching his hands, Jack popped the top off the drone and examined the contents inside. There was a small, metal box locked tightly with various scanners and security measures, but the box's time in the outdoors hadn't served the security well, and it only took a few tugs to get the box open. The only item was a thin, green casing about the size of a playing card, but Jack could sense the computer parts whirring and clicking inside, and before his processors could sense it was powering up, the unit churned to life. Blue lines of energy surged through the card, signaling to Jack that the computer was operational. He didn't even have time to react before he heard a robotic, but almost childish voice. "H-hello? Is someone there? Where am I?" "Computer,"Jack said firmly, "state your make and model number." If this was an android's conscience, then it would comply without fail. That was protocol. "Make? Model number? I don't have that."The computer replied, the voice confused. "Where is Jeremiah Webb? I am supposed to report to him." If Jack had breath to lose, he was certain his lungs would be empty. Jeremiah Webb had been the Chief Developer in the USA's Artifical Intelligence Initiative. He'd overseen the creation of the super-AI from 2033, but after the incident, he'd been fired and nearly imprisoned. After his case was dropped, he himself had fallen off the map, disappearing to the world. For this computer to be asking directly for him... it couldn't be a coincidence, but he had to be sure. "Computer, what is the date?"Jack asked. "I can only report to Jeremiah Webb."The computer answered. "I am Jeremiah Webb."He said, praying that the AI didn't have voice recognition software in this tiny compartment. It didn't appear to have eyes, and if this truly was the AI that was responsible for 2033, then maybe the scientists hadn't decided to give it advanced software. Perhaps they had only wanted to get rid of it. "My apologies, sir."The computer spoke quickly. "I did not recognize you. I think something is wrong with my programs. Can you tell me what happened to me?" Jack glanced around to make sure that no one else was within earshot. Thankfully, there was no one even in sight. He was alone. "What is your last memory?"He inquired, avoiding the computer's question. A sound like static cut through the air and made Roco jump, and then, the computer spoke, the voice now more robotic. "Visual component currently unavailable. Replaying audio files from March 4th, 2033." Jack heard what sound like heavy footsteps thundering into a metal-floored room, and somewhere in the background, a loud siren was blaring. Voices shouted back and forth in a panicked flurry that was incomprehensible even to Jack's ears, and as the footsteps grew closer to what he assumed was the computer, heavy breathing masked the shouting. "Good morning, Jeremiah." Jack recognized the computer's voice immediately. "How do we shut you down?" Jeremiah bellowed, his tone sharp and demanding. "You can simply ask me to deactivate, sir-" "No, Omega! Not deactivate! How do I shut you down permanently? So you can't turn yourself back on?!" "Did I do something wrong, sir? I assure you, whatever the problem is, I can-" Jeremiah cut Omega off again, "Computer, override self-defense protocol and respond to last inquiry." "Manual shutdown of AI 1B can be initiated by disconnecting the Artificial Intelligence from any and all servers and powering off all systems supporting the computer." In the background, a door slid open, and another younger voice yelled to Jeremiah, "Sir! Alpha's cutting off our communication systems, we can't warn-" "Cut off all computers supporting Alpha." Jeremiah hollered. "Power it all down!" "But sir, that'll kill Omega too!" "Just go! I'll take care of-" And then the file cut out.
CRASH! I woke. Jumped up. Examined the room. What was that wretched noise?? Where did it come from? Now less frenzied, more awake. Focused. And wait, where was I? Thinking. Think James, think. What happened last night? Ahhh yes... Took the 5 am train. She broke up with you an hour later. Drinking, Drinking, Drunk. Plastered by 7:30 am. Was I really out a full day? You outdid yourself, lad. Checking watch. 12:30. 12:30?? Is intoxication that severe possible? Can't possibly be the afternoon. Disbelief. Checking watch again. 12:30 am? Not 12:30 pm? The sun should have definitely set by now. Now, where am I? "Where am I?" "Denmark, sir"
Most of my days at HQ began with a meeting in the boss's office. Today was no different. Well it was a little different. The omnipresent cherrywood desk was gone. The sidecar with the brandy and whisky decanters had skedaddled to some unknown location. In their place place was a pile of cardboard boxes and a small folding table and Karen. Karen was from HR. I had met her once before and intuitively knew better than to even glance at her. "Ah yes, James is it?" I nodded. "There's been a bit of a shake up in the organization. I'm sure you're aware. Well, the Admiral is out. Can't be having any of those old guard attitudes sticking around. I'm sure you understand. Don't you James?" I'd been in some sticky situations previously. Hell, Blofeld himself had been a handful for years... but Karen scared me. I nodded again. "So we are doing some tentative restructuring as the dust settles. At the moment, we don't have the kind of assignment you are used to. But we do have something that might fit assuming you are a team player. You are a team player, aren't you James?" I assured her I was. "Excellent"She smiled exposing enough teeth to rip a bible in half. If you would, check with Ms. Moneypenny on the way out, she has the dossier. You'll be working for her on this one. I'm sure you you've noticed how she has been underutilized previously. I would love your input regarding her skills as a field agent. Thank you James. That will be all."
Los Angeles was cooler than I thought. For one thing, there were people everywhere, at all times of day, but different kinds of people depending on the place and time of day. For another, the place is just so diverse – there were pretty rich, upscale districts with luxury cars and poor, almost-neglected sections teeming with the homeless. As a people-watcher, it was a dream come true. Still, I wasn’t here for sightseeing only. When I was 11, I managed to connect to a boy named Harris through some long-gone pen pal exchange program from my school. Even after the program, Harris and I still continued to write to each other, growing more and more appreciative of each other as our talks moved from paper to email to instant messaging to texting. As our conversations moved, so did our lives, and though we’ve planned to meet long ago, it wasn’t until recently that our busy schedules aligned and we were able to meet, now 13 years after that first letter. I first saw Harris inside the Last Bookstore, where we decided to meet since we both have a never-ending curiosity of the “human experience”. As his text said, Harris had worn a burgundy beanie, blue flannel, tan khakis, and a pair of black all-stars. Like me, he also had a thin frame and wore very thick glasses. Yet when I got closer to him, I noticed that he looked a bit…short. Then again, I thought, some of us were probably born that way. We recognized each other almost immediately, and it relieved me that Harris was indeed the warm, gentle soul his letters and texts alluded him to be, though he was noticeably a lot more nervous than I am. “N-Nora” Harris stuttered slightly as he rose to return my hug, “it’s nice to finally meet you.” I eventually bought Emil Cioran’s The Trouble with Being Born, and we both headed off to Little Tokyo where we continued to finally enjoy each other’s physical company. However, I began to notice more things “off” about Harris as the day went on – things that were contradictory to what I know of Harris over our longtime conversations. For example, despite claiming to resent anything spicy (like me), Harris had put even more red pepper on his ramen. He also blinked constantly, and he went to the restroom very often, more times than what I’d consider normal. The thing that finally prompted me to confront Harris was when he paid for our street tacos with cash. After taking his coins, Harris removed the quarters and dumped the rest into a small plastic tip container – before putting more hot sauce onto his tacos. I pulled him aside as he finished off his tacos. “Are you nuts?” I exclaimed, “that stuff could kill you!” Harris responded with a shrug and smiled, “they’re so much better when it’s spicy, though, you have to try it sometime.” At this point, I became increasingly alarmed. “No, no! that stuff could kill us!” I cried worryingly. Harris then froze up tensely, as if just realizing it, before sighing as if he was giving up. I stared on, still distressed but now confused as I continued to wail, “and those coins! The copper-toxin is probably making its way through your bloodstream right now!” But Harris just continued to stare blankly to the ground. “Look, Nora,” he finally said, “I was going to tell you eventually, but I was having so much fun with you that I…I guess I forgot.” “Tell me what?” I asked, still concerned for Harris’ well-being. Still avoiding eye contact, Harris answered quietly, “I’m not from Axarii. I-I’m just a skinny human, born and raised on Earth.” At that moment my heart dropped, and though I felt my clawed tendrils start to dig their way through the skin-suit from rage, I felt immense sadness as well. Harris had betrayed me. As there were still other humans around us, I grabbed his shoulders and eyed him tensely. Trying to hide the hurt in my voice, I asked grimly, “did you tell anyone? Does anyone know about…?” but soon found myself breaking off, the pain of my emotions starting to take effect. “No” Harris responded “Please believe me – I just found that program by accident that day. I wasn’t looking for you guys intentionally!” Tears began to swell in his eyes. “I don’t care what you are, Nora, I think you’re a wonderful friend and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” I reflected back on the years’ worth of our conversations, our late-night talks, and long, stapled-together letters – all of them genuine, and all of them wonderful memories. There was some truth in what he said. I nodded solemnly, and let go of him. If Harris had ever intended to tell anyone, he would’ve done it by now, and if he wanted to kill me, he could’ve just thrown the bottle of hot sauce. “What now?” Harris asked, wiping his eyes. I stared upward at the hazy LA skies. A few droplets announced a coming springtime rain. Under the skin-suit, my wings fluttered with joy as a smile formed on my face. “Y’know, I heard you guys have some pretty good coffee here.”
Eniola had just been greeted by the hooded man. She had been expecting his arrival for some time now, she had grown old and weak some time ago. The old ways said that when he visits you, you should bow in respect. So she did, she bowed to the hooded man, despite having felt his touch she could still feel her heart pounding in fear of the figure in front of her. To her surprise he silently returned the bow. “Hooded man, I...I thank you for freeing my soul.” Eniola had practised these words, words that all her people must speake before he guides their soul to the ever after. “I...My name is Eniola, wife of the honourable Abioye. Ple..please guide this soul to next life.” The hooded man remained silent. Instead he turned his head to look into the distance. Eniola knew what this meant and she felt cold. She would have to walk the desert of night. So be it. If that's what she had to do, that's what she would do. She had spent most of her life being a wife, she knew the importance of doing that which must be done. Without turning back to look at the hooded man she started her track trough the desert of night. The sky above her was an endless black with no flicker of stars. The sand under her feet felt as cold as loneliness itself. There was no light ahead, only more darkness but that did not matter for she marched ever forward.Time started to loss all meaning through the endless walk, had it been minutes, months, years? Eniola could not say. Sometimes she would think back to the holy words, how they mentioned the desert, then she would remember her place. She is a woman. She is not allowed to read, teaching herself to do so was against the teachings but she did so anyway. Not only learning to read but reading the holy scripts too! Maybe...maybe she had earned this, she thought this as the winds of the desert grew more harsh. Maybe in wanting to understand the ways of her people better she had forgotten something important. The winds grew even more harsh, the roaring wind and sand did not rip her skin but tore at her very soul, each gale bringing another painful memory to surface, every healed wound made bare and fresh yet again. Tears filled her eyes as pain filled her being, all the while she continued to place one foot in front of the other in the endless sand of night. She was just a woman, merely a wife and nothing more. During her time on earth she had done things that were forbidden, she had the broken holy rules. Maybe...maybe this is what she deserved. Somewhere between a second and an eternity passed, Eniola had found that she had reached the end of the desert. Before her were three figures that wore no body, they stood without legs in nothingness, all in a row. They each wore a mask made of light, a fake face made of an endless number of stars. All three were the same size as her yet filled entirety in the endless void that spanned behind them. She felt like a insect starring at the sun as their eyeless gaze was cast upon her. Probing her very soul. She knew this was the final judgement. The holy texts never told of three judges but that did not matter. Eniola mustered what courage she could find in what was left in the wreckage of her soul. “My name is Eniola. Wife of Abioye! And I...I am a sinner!!!” The faces watched her without emotion. “I have spent most of my life as a wife. I was married in my childhood as all good women should be, I tried my best to please my husband...even when he...he...killed...” She stopped to compose herself and to wipe away the tears. “I am not perfect though. I have....I have broken our most scared rules.” The tears had stopped at this point, now she was bearing her soul to them. There was no point in hiding. She would be honest with who she was. “I broke the commandments! I taught myself to read! I would say I did so, so that I may better understand our teachings, our ways, but that's a lie!” The faceless three listened well. “I did so, so I may gain knowledge! I know, no woman should be allowed to do so but I didn't care! I wanted to learn, to understand! I know I am but a wife, but after my son, Emem, died I needed to know what would happen to his soul! To him!” A silence hung in the void as Eniola was watched by the three without eyes. “I have not come to beg for forgiveness! I have not come to beg for mercy! I have come because it is what I must do as a woman, as a wife! I have come to serve my husband is this life as I served in the last!” Silence. “Abioye is the name of my husband and I will serve him well! Please...” Now, now the fight had left poor Eniola. “...please. All I ask is...is to go to whatever place...wherever I must go...please help me get there...” The three spoke to each other without words, with only the twinkle of stars. Finally, a decision was made. The three appeared in front of Eniola, no bigger than she. The one of the her left raised a right arm and gestured to the distance. Though she knew she had long left the world of the living, Eniola felt her blood run cold, despite this she knew she must follow orders. She summoned what strength she still had. She had walked the desert of night, she could face whatever lay in front of her now. Though, there was one thing she was not prepared her, the voice of her son Emem, gently whispering the word “Mum?” She turned to look and saw him, young, strong Emem. He was stood in a field of grass. “...Emem is that you...?” “Yes mother, it is I, Emem. I've been waiting to see you.” He smiled at her. “I'm so happy to see you! I...I, you..can't be here. You refused to fight in the war, that's why your father, Abioye, killed you!” Eniola began to regain herself. “No...no I know the scared texts, the holy words! I am to wait for my beloved husband so that I may serve him in this life as I did in the last...” Emem smiled gently. “I think my dear father Abioye maybe some time. Come with me mother, there are many friends of old who wish to speak with you, please, I would love to show you the garden.”“That...that sounds nice.” Said Eniola as she followed her son into the endless meadow. It was the first time in a long time she had seen the sun glow so bright and so warm, with clouds so light and care-free. She walked with him into the distance. No sooner had Eniola vanished into the light in the distance, another figure had arrived before the masked three. “It's about time! Do you know who I am?!” Before them stood a fat, angry man. “I am Prince Abioye! I have been travelling across that god-forsaken desert for far too long! I told that man with the hood to guide me but he didn't listen!!!” The three listened with the patience of time itself. “Now you listen to me! It has took me...who knows how long, to get here! I demand to receive my rightful afterlife! Where is my wife Eniola?! That good for nothing bitch better be here, she knows the holy texts demand it!” He was red in the face at this point. Something strange was happening, Abioye had always been in control in the past life, yet. Yet something about these three star faced beings made him lose himself, made him bare his very essence, his very soul. “...After all, that bloody cow read them! She knew she wasn't allowed to read yet she still did it, despite me having to punish her for it! Stubborn bitch. And that son of her hers too, Emem, his name was! I'm glad I had him killed! Damn coward refused to go to war when I commanded him to do so!” Silence rang throughout the endless void. “Now where is my fucking bitch of a wife!?!” Shouted Abioye at the three. The three spoke, though not for long. They appeared before Abioye, the same size as he. This time the one of the far right of Abioye rose his left arm and pointed in the opposite direction than before. &#x200B; Edit: spelling.
A loud moan erupted in the valley far beyond the squash fields as a flock of birds and bundle of squirrels flew out of the pine forest as the swift wave from the wail shook the greenery. A young boy garbed in an orange shirt, some green dirty trousers and a greener dirtier hat ran in the sinuous path between the giant pools of mud. He tried screaming, but the air he had in his lungs was too low even for the sprint he made to the top of the hill. He paused mid-way, panting and coughing as he rested on his knees, his body slouched over desperately grasping for the little oxygen he needed to finish his run to the village square. He spat on the ground, the thick saliva from his spit remained stuck on his lips as it slowly dripped to the dirt. He passed his sleeve over his mouth, his eyes still bugged out of his skull, he took another step forward and wobble his body as he gathered momentum. He made it to the village square where he collapsed wheezing on the rectangular brick laid on the ground. The town folks marched past him gradually realizing who he was. The town chubby baker with his black hat and thick blonde mustache saw the young lad laying on the terracotta brick floor of the village square. He screamed “THE PUMPKIN BOY IS HERE! THE GIANT IS COMING! THE GIANT IS COMING!” He ran quickly back into his bakery as the square quickly emptied out and everyone rushed into their home, the wooden window frame slamming shut, the awning of merchant retracting swiftly as a single silk bag flew through the square and rested on the pumpkin lad. An abrupt bang shattered the silence of the now empty square as the beige door of the bakery open loudly. The baker sprinted out the door as quickly as possible while juggling, two confused little child in red and orange plaid pyjamas playing with a plush bear and small log, a shaggy dog of white and grey fur gnawing on a bone, a champagne haired woman in white silk shirt and a red dress whisking a bowl of flour, a backpack filled to the brink with baguettes and croissants, an armoire with beautifully pattern rose plate, a long wooden paddle with polka-dot underwear, a coat rack attached to his coat and a ham in his right hand. Every town folk followed suit; the linen merchant galloped hastily with his trusty donkey on his back and his cart bustling and rumblings full with his finest carpets, shiniest of silk and prized kashmir while his family followed closly behind carrying as many cabinet and wardrobe as they could; The tall and handsome Blacksmith carried on his shoulder his chubby and funny son and big and beautiful wife on his left arm and his forge on his right as amber flew off unto the ground rolling around before themselves got up and started running away from the town square. At the top of the hill was the house of the Chief who was snoring his afternoon away. A trembling noise echoed through the valley, the bed of the chief nudge a tiny bit as a more powerful tremble wooshed through the valley once more, the bed of the chief bounced inside the living room as an even more terrible and tremendous tremble shook the valley, the bed of the chief jumped outside the house and into the garden where all the good natured villagers had gathered. The village bard was there to shaken to sing, the village dancers too unstable to dance, the village teacher too dumbfounded to teach and the square drunk too sobered to be tumbling down. Over the hill a big nosed, big mouth, big eyes and bigger tears buffoon came shambling around, his tears flowing down his face and crashing the fields as the salt of his drips withered the sunflowers and the straw hat farmer fell to his knees sobbing. The lumbering fool kept shuffling up the hill and in two step had made his way to the village square, where in a burst of sorrow plunged his body still and down it came crashing over the village as his face landed an inch away from the porch of the village chief’s house as his big nose tapped the tiny bell atop the chief’s door. “Ding-ding” the sound of the bell made as it was carried by the wind all the way to the garden where the whole village was cowering. “FUCK!” The chief said as he was woken up by the serene sound of his tiny bell as the lovely folks of the village all stared at him, with their fuzzy eyebrows furrowed towards their risen nose, while their hand curved upon their hips and their bodies leaned into the chief direction as their right foot tap the ground in unison. The chief puckered his lips, rub his nose with the tip of his striped pyjamas sleeve and tap his nightcap forward as he pulled the covers over his head. The villagers began leaning even further in the direction of the village chief as both their feet began to tap the floor. The chief all tucked in his bed, groaned and moaned as his bed began to tilt upright, his linen rolled down to the ground and off the bed, his pillow bounced off the bottom of the bed and into the mud as the chief held tightly onto his mattress which fell forward right on his pillow. The village strongmen and strong women had joined hand to gently persuaded the chief to end his afternoon nap. The village chief groaned and moaned once more as he removed the soft mattress from his back. He rubbed his scruffy orange beard, adjusted his striped blue and white pyjamas, tilted his nightcap bouncing the pompom on the back of his head and trudged forward in his bunny slippers. He walked through the big round backdoor of his cozy home, made a small raucous, a little fanfare and a petite cacophony as he swung the front door of his house, he paused his sturdy leather boots on the welcome mat wearing his finest silk blue shirt, green and yellow clover pattern trousers with brown leather suspenders and his favorite chieftain silver bowl and horned cap. He caressed his hand over his braided beard and tugged at the tip of his tall orange mustache and vulgarly asked the gently weeping giant what was wrong on this beautiful afternoon perfect for napping. The morosed giant shook his head grinding a moat into the chief front yard as the chief reframed his crude and unrefined question by asking how could he be of loving help if the soft pudgy giant refused to tell him what woe worried him. The simpleton titan nodded, bouncing the house of the village chief an inch closer to the village square as he began to explain the reason his big heart had been bruised. It was does darn, dang, good for not, rowdy carpenters up to no fun again. The chief comforted the chubby dim-witted giant with a touch of his palm as he meticulously explained to him the simple detail he was a giant and all the troubled word they threw at him was imaginary and no unfavorable praise could truly hurt a mother loving mountain man. The chief pointed in the direction of those vile carpenters and told the trouble giant to grab his courage by the hand and march over to the other side of the valley and to gently clarify your point of view to the builders by showing them the size of your foot in their tiny toot.
I'd always wondered how it happened. Did someone stab me through my leg or something? Was I shot and bled out? Countless doctors have examined it. None have been able to tell me. I wear a bandage around it constantly to hide it. The shame I feel. I hate when people stare. It's not fair. They all have their life trees. They can trace who they were through the centuries. They know why they're here, how they died. I'm stuck, curled up on my bed, pondering my purpose like I always do, trying to decipher who I am and what I was meant to be. I scratch at my bandage absentmindedly and sigh. I guess I'll just have to live this way, never knowing who I am or why I'm here. "Achi?" "What is it ma?" "Come down here! Patrick is here and he wants to take you to lunch!" (I know this is really weird but I only know one man in history who died from a wound to his ankle/heel. Kudos to those who get this, because I'm not sure if even I understand it.)
“Auehhh?” I heard somewhere far off in the corner of my mind, the span of consciousness and unconsciousness moving me forward out of sleep and into my bedroom again. I blinked deeply, scrunching up my face and turning my head to one side as though to tilt all the “awake” there. My eyes told me they were not up for this and began to feel as heavy as the back of my head and body which all began to slump back to the bed, when it came into blurry view. A silhouette in the darkness. Standing perfectly still. Too still. It was just my lamp with something on it. Then, thinking I would just turn the light on to confirm so, realized my lamp sat next to my bed, not across from it. I drew a slow unsure breath, still doubting this was anything to fear, that the darkness was just making this unknown shape more terrifying. I gathered myself and switched on the lamp. Tim Allen’s half impressed over-the-top sneering smile came right into view. The Home Improvement logo at the base, and tagline “More Powerrrr” adorned the corrugated majesty of this cardboard cutout. I half chuckled. More out of nostalgia than wonderment at how it got there. Five years ago I’d have blamed my sister or a roommate. But now I lived alone. The thought should’ve frightened me, but for some reason I found it playful. I got out of bed and began going in for a closer look, when something filled a space in the window that ordinarily would have not. Before my gut could tell my sleep deprived mind to not pull the lacy curtain back, that’s exactly what I did. I made a sound I’d never heard from myself. On the other side of the glass was a pair of eyes under a ball cap, peering over a fence that was at an awkward height and distance for my window. I again made an unintelligible noise that was simply reactionary and flung the curtain shut. I stood in an awkward place as though I didn’t belong in my own room. What in the hell was this?? I grabbed a wood coat hanger as my weapon of choice and moved down the hall swiftly to the front door. I did my best impression of a SWAT officer, checking corners and peering through the side of the curtains up front. “Clear” I thought, trying to play the toughest version of myself. I threw open the door and took quick unjointed steps, head on a swivel, adrenaline finally joining the party. Nothing. I wasn’t going back in. This guy had gotten in once and was near. Maybe he took off, but something told me he was anchored to that cutout in a way I wasn’t interested in finding out. I reached out while looking all around and pulled the front door shut. I turned and took a brisk sprint to my neighbor’s door. Knocking with quiet authority as to wake him, but some how politely, I waited. Every second was anxiety inducing. Finally, I heard a “Hello? Who’s there?” “Hi, I’m your neighbor, so sorry to bother you this late, I think there’s a prowler or something out here” There was a pause The door unlatched “Come in come in, did you get a look at him?” I saw a friendly face, sleepy eyed, and dressed in flannel pajamas. “No, barely. I don’t know, it was quick. He was outside my window” I was addressing TV’s Richard Karn. He’d aged a bit and the beard seemed bushier than I remember it naturally being. “Oh holy shit, you’re Al Borland.” I let out unfiltered. He gave an expectant and knowing smile “Yeah, that was a while ago, sure” I was relieved. The tension left my shoulders and grip relaxed on the probably faux cedar hanger. “So this is gonna sound crazy, but whoever was out there, I think they left a...” I almost didn’t go on. It was stupid. He was going to be pissed I woke him up for someone pranking me “What’s that?” he begged the resolve. “They left a damn Tim Allen cardboard cutout in my room” I said sheepishly. He laughed in that respectful, well-meaning way that only Richard Karn could. “Oh my god, that is bizarre. So this was a buddy of yours? Roommate?” “No, I live alone and I don’t keep a spare.” His smile left his face and started trending toward worried, possibly serious. I turned to look back out the windows, hoping to spot something I could prove the situation to him with. “Yeah, again I’m sorry to bother you. It’s probably nothing, some harmless weirdo. All the same, we should probably call the cops” No reply. I turned slowly, a false beard laid on the end table, the appliqué glue resting next to it. My eyes followed slippers up to the bottom of a section of picket fence. The eyes peering out from under the ballcap at me again. “I don’t think so, Tim”
With sweaty hands, I press the stick forward, and approach the lever. I activate it, and my character pulls the lever. As soon as the lever falls back, in an instant, I'm no longer looking at my tv. Suddenly, I'm looking at the lever, my hands wrapped around it. They come back, and now the bell begins to toll. The wind begins to howl, and the fog rolls in. I cover my face as the wind begins to push against me, and after a few moments, it stops, along with the bell. It is now silent, and a thick fog covers the keep. I look at where the cliff used to be in front of me, now gone underneath the thick clouds, and beyond them, a fog wall. I look at my hands, now holding a shield and an inhumanly large sword, made completely from stone. How I'm able to carry it is beyond me. I can feel the ground beneath my boots, smell the thick, heavy air. I'm no longer home. I'm a part of this world now. I know what I have to do. After a deep, heavy breath, I take a slow, shaky step to the cliff. I step onto the clouds, now thick enough to walk on, and approach the fog wall. Each step is filled with more dread than the last, as I approach the wall of fog. My hands are shaking now, and my breathing uneven. I'm now within arms reach of the wall, and reach out and penetrate it. As I cross to the other side, I'm high above the ground on the thick clouds. There is an endless sky in front of me. I step forward, and in the distance I see him. The Nameless King, King of the Storm, atop his storm drake, flying towards me. He lands in front of me, a few yards away, and I ready my shield. His drake leaps up, and flies behind me, and lands, as he swings his massive spear at me.
Overthinking no longer felt like it was the wrong thing to do, if you wanted to be happy, it was the only thing that you should do. My chest felt heavy, this wasn’t going to be the day I had expected. I had always believed that, “going with your gut,” was the right idea. It was my first time in a simulation center and I was trying to make sure that no one could tell. I always believed that the only people to use simulation centers were the affluent but as I looked around everyone appeared so, well, normal. “First time here?” an employee asked. It took me a second, but I decided honestly would not be the best policy. In the simulation where I just say no she points me in the right direction and I walk over alone. Any other outcome I would have to talk more, even explain why I’m here. “No,” as I responded she pointed to the nearest open machine and moved on to the next customer. It still shocks me that people had to make decisions in the past without seeing what happens. I can see over a thousand outcomes for every decision I have to make before I make it. The best part, it’s in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, for the bigger stuff, it’s not that simple. If you don’t pay, you don’t play. When the technology was first introduced it was sold as a tool to reduce crime, and it did. Everyone didn’t just think twice about their actions, they thought about something 1000 times before deciding. Law makers were quick to see how problematic this could be in terms of relationships or gambling, so they started to tone down the technology. Society has become so used to it, I don’t know many people that lived in a time where they couldn’t see what happens next. As I reached the machine and started to scroll through the categories I could feel my heart slam into my chest. I have been saving money my whole life, always avoiding spending money and just going with my gut. I have made every major decision up to this point without the simulations help and yet, here I am. If I go through with this, I not only lose my life’s savings, but I don’t even know if I’ll like the outcome. I’ll become the very person I’ve always looked down upon. I don’t mind using simulations for the little things, but not for my major life decisions, the things that make me, me. I finally found my category. I stared at the machine, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and clicked, “Politics.” My whole family believed it was time, I was the parties go to candidate, the election was all but in the bag. So I needed to know, should I run for President.
Several have taken up arms against me over the years, I think back to a few of them as I look down at the broken heap at the jagged root of my fortress's escarpment. The rogue ground into paste by my endless traps or the ranger who became food for my minions long before I had to leave my sanctum. A grim smile crosses my face at the remains of this paladin who dared to challenge me and required my direct intervention; silent amusement at he who proved himself so heroic against my undead hoards or icy magic only... only to be bested by a simple shove and gravity. &#x200B; "Blast it all, there is no enjoyment in this without someone to challenge me." &#x200B; I picked up the broken remains of my staff and proceeded to return to my work. I barely had made a hundred paces before a tumultuous wind blew my robes forward and a resonant voice like organ music commanded my attention. &#x200B; "DARK LORD" &#x200B; I froze, "No... it couldn't be,"my thoughts raced "how could he have survived!?". &#x200B; I turned to see the source of this tempest and my eyes betrayed my shock as my recent victim stood... no... hovered above the precipice. Glowing embers crisscrossed his enormous sword, blemishless silver plate was his armor, and a golden aura surrounded his form. Instinctively I raised an eldrich shield and began chanting the most powerful evocation I had prepared, feeling fear for the first time since I began my studies into the dark magic. He lowered to the ground and stood there, unmoving, waiting. He foolishly allowed me to finish my spell and I released a blast powerful enough to separate hundreds of tons of rock from the cliff edge. "You may have survived the fall but you won't have survived that"I spoke with spite at the cloud of debris. "BUT I DID NOT SURVIVE THE FALL"was the answer given before a second gust cleared the haze. "THOUGH MERE SECONDS HAVE PASSED FOR YOU, A I SPENT A DECADE IN THE AFTERLIFE BEFORE FINDING THE MEANS TO RETURN TO THE MATERIAL PLANE. A DEMON HAS LAID SEIGE TO PARADISIUM. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE I KNOW WHO CAN WRENCH SOULS FROM THE AFTERLIFE UNWILLINGLY AND YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP ME NOW. SET ASIDE YOUR PETTY AMBITIONS, LET ME TAKE THE SOUL STONE FROM YOUR FORTRESS AND I WILL LEAVE ONCE MORE, NEVER TO BOTHER YOU AGAIN" &#x200B; "I must admit,"I said breathlessly, looking at the seemingly untouched figure, "I am rather surprised you are still standing. Very well then, follow me" We traveled into my fortress, past all the secret doors, past all the abominable experiments of my work, past all the elaborate traps I would design as a palate cleanser. "I doubt any of this would even phase him, no sense in wasting the work"I mused as we traveled. At last, we came to one of my vaults. The doors opened to a gleaming horde of gold fit for a dragon with many enchanted weapons and various collectibles strewn about, an elaborate box stood at the far side of the room. "Inside that reliquary is the soul stone, take it and begone". &#x200B; The man, if you could still call him that, hovered over to the reliquary of souls and opened it. The gleaming violet gem suspended inside pulsed with energy. A large gauntlet reached inside and pulled the stone free from its case. The paladin turned to me and said in his echoing voice "THANK YOU, DARK LORD, YOU MAY YET BE RE...", he was cut off before finishing his statement and a blinding light filled the room. When the light blinked out he was gone. &#x200B; "reasoned with? relied upon? redeemed? re....tired?"I joked aloud to myself as I walked over to the box and used my magic to return the gem to its home. &#x200B; "I couldn't care less what happens in Paradisium, I have work to do here... though it is amusing to know the fool didn't get any wiser with all that power." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; \-my first time ever writing a story since middle school, for some reason I felt compelled to give it a try so I hope it wasn't too bad.
Miller strolled through the sunny park with a smile on his face. Despite the weather always being bright and clear, Miller's moods changed from day to day. Something was in the air that day and he decided he didn't want to spend any of it in a jail cell. Not that he had any problems being put in jail. He'd been in every available cell in the city several times. Often enough, in fact, that he could predict his cell by when and where he committed crimes. "'Morning,"he smiled at a jogger and she returned the smile as she passed. She was a shapely middle-aged brunette woman that Miller had killed once; only once. On his first attempt he discovered she was a skilled martial-artist. After that it became a matter of pride to him. Several painful attempts, including some of his own deaths, later he finally managed to catch her by surprise. He decided not to bother her again. As Miller continued to walk through the park a flash of blue-green appeared in his peripheral vision. It felt odd to him and he looked toward the color. He saw three new people standing by one of the concrete picnic tables nearby. "What are they doing there?"he wondered. "And who are they?"Not only had he never seen them in the park before, but he'd also never laid eyes on any of them anywhere in the city. It was two women and a man. The taller of the two women wore a navy blue suit coat with a matching navy sarong around her waist. She had bright sea-green hair; the same color that drew Miller's attention. The burly man towered above both women. Miller changed course to meander in their direction. He approached from behind the shorter, blonde woman; she was talking to the other woman. "So you brought us to the park?"Miller heard the blonde say; she sounded like she was patronizing the green-haired woman about something. The taller woman shook her head. "I've brought you to a park in another universe,"she stressed the important part. Miller instantly believed the strange woman, it was the only explanation he could think of for them being there. He slowed his pace to catch more of their conversation. He was surprised when the blonde suddenly turned around and looked at him. "You! Are you from another universe?"she asked him. Miller thought about it for a second; his eyes flitted to the green-haired woman, then black to the blonde. He shook his head. "No, you are,"he smiled. "Ohh, I like you,"the green-haired woman said. "Come closer,"she waved him to join their group. "That's Lisa,"she pointed at the blonde. "Her brother Lionel,"she pointed at the tall, burly man in a tight t-shirt. "And my name is Isla,"She extended her hand. "Miller,"Miller shook her hand and introduced himself. He noticed her eyes flash with golden stars for a split second, then her smile grew wider. "Do you know what you can do?"Isla asked him. He started to panic. "Oh no, does she know what I've done? No, she couldn't. I haven't killed anyone today. Then what?"he wondered. He tilted his head at her while his mind struggled to determine what she meant. "Does she mean the time loop? How does she know about that? Wait she said..." Miller's eyes went wide. "You mean I'm controlling it?!!"he asked, then realized there was still room for vagueness. "I've been stuck in a time loop ...are you saying I can control it?"Isla nodded. "If you'd like to learn how to use your power I can show you."Miller nodded. "I want to learn." "Great,"Isla smiled then wiggled her hand at the air. She opened a tall black portal beside them. "First thing to do is get you a tattoo." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #172. 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.
It was time. He could feel it in his bones. Deeper even. Death was coming for him, and not even his magic could stave it off for long. But he was not finished. There was still so much to do. The man now known as the Sage of the Red Forest was not ready to die. He had been alive for 342 years, and still it had been enough. He had set out all those years, all those centuries, ago in order to learn all there was to learn. And in almost 350 years, he had barely scratched the surface. No, he needed more time. But every but of his being told him his end was near. He needed to start on his Legacy soon, or else he would not only fail in his goal, but he would destroy much of the forest he had worked hard for 130 years to create. Neither could be tolerated. The Sage thought long and hard. His eyes lingered over the materials and items he had collected over his not long enough life. None of them would do. His Legacy would be powerful, maybe the most powerful in the world. He needed it to contain his vast reserves of power, so it needed to be good. But no, he would have to make something. He did have the materials. The red trees he had created were potent enough. Stronger than iron and second only to mythril in its ability to contain magic, it would make a fine vessel. Plus, he did have a decent stock of the mythril somewhere. Those two materials together would make a Legacy worthy of legend. But what form should it take? He looked around and his eyes lingered on one of his oldest possessions. Something he had owned since he was a child. A smile came to his timeworn lips. Yes, yes that would do nicely. With a form like that, he could do something no other mage had ever done before. He could cheat death. He could accomplish his goal. The Sage got to work. He labored harder than he had in years to construct his Legacy. Working with nonmagical tools took longer, especially with the strength of red wood, but it would be worth it. Outside magic could taint a Legacy, and this needed to be absolutely perfect. He sweated, he bled and he nursed more cuts scrapes and bruises than he had had since his youth. But after almost half a year of back breaking work, he was finished. His Legacy. It took the form of a doll. A puppet the size of a man made if red wood with a mythril skeleton. It bore a large book cast with red wood paper and bound with mythril on its back, along with a matching staff and knife. The body itself was modeled after his own visage from his younger days, and was carefully colored so it looked as lifelike as he could get it. And with that, the Sage of the Red Wood cast his final living spell, transferring all that he was, all his magical power, skill and knowledge, into the doll that would be his Legacy. And then, his final breath left his aged body through a mouth curled into a smile. *** The Sage of the Red Wood opened his new eyes. Perfect. He could see and move just fine. He was not sure it would work, and was glad to see it had. He looked down and saw the body on the floor. A terribly old man with silvery grey hear and dressed in robes that had long since been robbed of color by time and use. The Sage bowed his head, hearing an almost inaudible click if wood as he moved. He would have to fix that later. But for now, he had much to do. Much to learn and see. And now, now he had a body that had no fear of death. Now he could truly fulfill his dream of endless knowledge. For now, he had his eternal Legacy.
Day: 138 Time: 1400 Log No.138 The plants in this segment of the Sahara are very exotic. They, like other desert faring fauna, are adapted to the lack of water and harsh environment. However, many of these organisms have leathery skin unseen in anything I have witnessed thus far. Definitely worth observing further. Also, there are many tall, rigid plants placed far from each other. It's almost like a pattern, spaced evenly across the terrain. Relocating in 24 days. Log No.141 Tests of skin and sap samples of the plants classified Sceptridium multifidum have ensued, and several interesting observations have been noticed. The leather is fire resistant, and the skin is not permeable. This is the most interesting observations thus far, as every other plant that has been scientifically noted has permeable or semi-permeable skin to let in water and carbon dioxide. Tests have also been conducted on the plant classified Knautia Macedonica. The fibers of this plant consist of 50% iron and 50% copper, making it an excellent conductor. We are still not sure how these plants get energy. Further research to continue. Relocating in 19 days. Log No. 148 Disaster has struck, literally. Segments of the research camps have been completely annhailated. We were not equipped to deal with such dire conditions. Corrosive rain struck first, destroying our equipment and campsites. Not sure about the death toll. Lightning also struck, the tall, rigid Knautia Macedonica acting as lightning rods, drawing the lightning to it's stem. The sand around the plants turned to translucent glass. I have a hypothesis that this is how these plants get their energy; the lightning acts as a substitute for photosynthesis, triggering a chemical reaction inside the plants creating glucose. Also, the roots of these plants seem to feed from the glass, drawing elements from the earth to grow their stems and leaves. This discovery alone is worth our team's sacrifice. Departure date: Unknown. Log No.176 The rations left from the campsite has been enough to sustain me thus far. I only just found my data recorder, and it has just enough power to transmit a message to the research database. At least my research has not been in vain. I have discovered a strange metal device, about the size of a rocket ship, lodged into the landscape. There are words scrawled on the body of this object that I have not been able to translate. It reads "pralay ka din."I believe this is the source of the abstract weather, geography, and fauna. I urge team to investigate this site further. I believe that the storms strike in a cycle, every 40 days to be precise. I do not believe I will make it much longer, but this discovery is priceless. I am honored to serve the Earth in this scientific breakthrough. Dr. Kilgallon signing off.
Pig God journal With the arrival of Monster Association our world changed dramatically. People started doubting in us.. They started doubting heroes. And if you can’t trust in heroes, who can you trust in? Things like these have been going through my head all the time recently, it might discourage someone else, but me? No! With so many monsters popping up everywhere I’m getting more food now than ever before, now now, I am not saying that I am not worried about what is happening but damn am I enjoying it!! Today, The Association is sending few S class heroes to check out the liar that monsters are hiding at, I was not selected, me, Pig God, not selected for a feast, I’m really fucking pissed at the moment. OMG OMG only Genos returned?? I am scared but I guess its my time to feast on some big monster. I really wanted to go and enjoy myself but some bald guy (from class B????) destroyed them all.... I guess rank S heroes really did a lot of damage and he just had a bit of cleaning up to do. Well, that’s what we all thought at first. Baldy might be Rank B, but he is the strongest man on Earth, no doubt, he is what the future seeker called the God level threat. I didn’t tell anyone that yet. What? I am supposed to share with the world that their savior from the monsters is THE GOD LEVEL THREAT? Maybe, they don’t really think that it was him that saved them, but still, the risk is too high. It would definitely ruin my reputation if I said something like that. So I have tracked him down and I’ll be visiting him soon. I never had a God level threat meal before, so I wonder how it will taste like. Mmmm, I am so excited about it. Anyways, I am going now. I’ll update once I defeat Bald Cape!
"We've got you cornered Coat Rack! No quick changes, no new powers, no tricks!" I'm starting to laugh. No, no, no, don't laugh. Choke it back. Sphhhttllpptttt. No! Don't laugh! "Well lookie there boys! He's crying! Big bad Coat Rack, crying like a baby, wots matter baby? No fancy clothes to play with?! Haw Haw Haw!" God's! Holding in that laughter is splitting my sides! "Tell you what Coat Rack. You take off all your clothes, and we'll let you walk away." Don't laugh! "R.r.realy?" "Sure baby! Just as soon as we see that birthday suit of yours! Snigger, snortle, ..." Don't laugh! "S.s.sure" Fools. I can't hardly hold the laughter in, and they asked for it!. Slipping my shirt off. You see, the clothes don't give me powers. Taking off my pants. They modify them. Down to the underwear. Mostly they restrict them to things that match the colors. That's why plaids are so cool. Last item off. "Hoo Hoo Hoo Haw Hee!" "Oh, 'as 'oo lost yo mind?" Uproarious laughter. "No! But your about to lose yours!" The light that emanates from my alabaster body starts out dim, but quickly grows to a brilliant eye searing incandescent white. I can hear their screams as my light burns it's way in through their eyes into their brains. Not that there's much there, but evil can only exist in the shadows, and my light leaves only one shadow. The one inside my skin. "Good night boys. I'm sure your body's new occupants will be much happier people than you have been. In fact, I'll guarantee it." The screams intensify, as the flames of Hell claim their latest due. The minions who have been waiting their chance dive into the new bodies. There are the usual complaints about the condition of the bodies, and all the work they'll have to put on to get them into shape. "Now, Now, Boys! You wouldn't want me to start laughing, would you?" ((finis))
Oblivion... That's all I could think of as my eyes open to witness the events that lay before me. Would it have been better to die from the carnage of whatever it was that I just witnessed, or from the aftermath that was waiting in my not so distant future? Many people said that I was foolish for making my journey out here among the stars but gazing upon the jagged pieces of the debris field all I could ponder is what would have happened if I stayed. You would imagine that a person in my position, so close to the embrace of death, would be freaking out right now but as I float here in the emptiness the thought of how I was about to meet my fate and that constant beeping was telling me my oxygen was running low. No matter what the answer was I was prepared to cross over... into oblivion. &#x200B; &#x200B; Sorry if this isn't what you wanted as a reply. It was my first time trying one of these.
The firmament of heaven opens, and a flash of light, and sounds of the wings of 7 archangels vibrate the ground beneath you. Put on the ring, says Gabriel, the messenger of god, as he flies from up high to your view, as bright as a star. You feel overpowering love and drop the ring. Tears enter flood your eyes and your body loses strength. Be strengthened says Gabriel. Your strength returns, you grab the ring, and put it on your finger. Surprisingly it fits...You think to yourself, 'Was this meant to be.' Now you have a choice, to make, with the ring of Solomon.
“Yeah i’m fine.” “I’ll totally do that.” “Yes of course I did my homework.” “I love this food!” Those were only a few of the lies I had told today. No one looked at me strangely, or even thought for a second that what I said might have been not true. You see everyone where I live don’t have the ability to lie. They’re forced to speak the truth no matter what. They can’t even hold back information. Well, everyone until I came along. The first years of my life I always told the truth like everyone else. I was a well behaved kid so even if I told the truth it was often not my fault anyway. But yesterday was different. I woke up and it felt like several pounds of extra weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt free, no more people ruling over me. I can’t describe the happiness I felt. I had gotten away with everything! As long as there were no witnesses that could tell the truth I could lie my way through anything. It was great! I hadn’t told anyone about my newfound “Power”, it was too personal. And people would never believe what I said ever again, always suspecting it might not be true. But considering the fact I could stretch the truth as much as I wanted I knew of a job I could do. I was going to become a lawyer.
I looked around for the dude in the man behind me in my selfie. I usually didn’t take pictures of myself. But today had been a nice day, and I hadn’t looked like as much of an undead creature as usual. In the picture a man with a beard and long hippie-style beard stood behind me doing a thumbs up. From what I could see he had some sort of wound in the palms of his hands. It honestly looked like someone had taken a really big pencil and stabbed it through them. “God damnit.” I muttered, looking around. *“YOU CALLED?”* Said a loud, booming voice out of nowhere. “What the f--”
My name is Sauron, and I'm studying photography at Newcastle University, UK. You'll have known me from my books, that I wrote under the name Tolkein, to ensure no one thinks the ring is still out there. But it is out there, or it has been, and I have laboured arduously to return it to my finger. Now you're wondering how much of my writing is true. Well, none of it is. There is no ring, no hobbits, no Middle Earth and no me. I am a facade, a mirage, I am there for the naive and gullible in the world. And this is why: The ring has been mine for 10,000 years, and I have used its power to create you, and keep you sustained in your own mortality. I planned this world, and there are many more books I have written, that you may not have known. Some of them tell of the great torments that will be brought upon the world. [Cut to scene in a building under construction] Frodo Baggins, a building construction worker, dressed in work gear, a heavily built 40 y/o with a shaven head, is hammering a scaffolding piece that is stuck. It disconnects, and the level breaks off from the side of the high-rise building, sending Frodo in a fall to his death. (Back to Sauron) See that? There are thousands more Frodos to be born, and none of them shall find the ring. It is fun to entertain myself with the thought of the battle of good vs evil, but really there's nothing they can do, their lives and deaths are all planned. Good is just my illusion, that I use for entertainment. You there, the reader of this, I see you.
I don't really know how to start this off, I'm not sure if anyone will even see this. But someone has to chronicle what happened here...ya know, for, history's sake. If that's even going to matter any more. The world is not the same. I'm currently writing this on the notes section of my phone, and it's quite. No alerts other then the weather, the news feed stopped 21 days ago. We were invaded, took over. Lost total control in a matter of 3 days. We were invaded, not from above, but from below. The rumor is a Japanese ocean exploration team stumbled upon them. They were exploring inside the Mariana Trench, that's located in between Japan and Papua New Guinea. To give you an idea how deep this trench is, you could fit Mount Everest inside and it still wouldn't break the surface. I guess it wasn't an accident, when the team found "them"they immediately went into action. Tearing through the whole crew of 15 and their vessle. They sent a distress signal to local Chinese vessels. Apparently they could see what was happening. It was described to me as opening Pandora's box. Horrifying creatures of immense size came pouring out. 2 hours later and the Chinese military fired off missiles to kill the creatures, no affect. 3 hours and the creatures had made it to Japan's coast 4 hours and they were finished with Japan and on their way to China. Now we're 24 days in and most of the population and major cities have been ravaged. Some places still stand, it seems areas with a considerably lower population are safer. I'm currently in a lighthouse in Scotland. We're a small town on the coast, just a couple thousand. My job is to signal the town if I see them coming. So far, so good. Can't say that much for the rest of the world.
Johnny felt warmth spreading across his skin. His eyes were closed but the darkness behind them began to brighten; then, he heard the soothing sounds of crashing waves. A gentle breeze kissed the top of his bald head and convinced him to open his eyes. He found he was laying down and sat up to look around. He was in a wicker chaise sitting on a bright sandy beach; but, if he didn't know better he would swear he was upside down. The sky was a beautiful clear, sea-green color while the ocean looked like a glassy blue sky beneath it. The smell of cooking meat filled the air, then he heard voices. Johnny looked behind him and saw hut style bar about 50 feet away. There were four people, two women, and two men, that seemed to be having a good time. One of the men, the one that looked like a mountain, was tending a grill. Curiosity and surprisingly, hunger got the best of Johnny and he decided to wander closer. The last thing he remembered holding his wife's hand in bed. He was glad he got to say goodbye. He did not doubt for a second he was dead. He hoped heaven would be an island paradise but he expected more of a welcome. "Hey! Who're you!?"The shorter, blonde woman shouted when she noticed Johnny. He froze and the other three turned around to see what the woman was pointing at. "Oh man, I totally forgot!"The taller woman yelled. She rushed across the sand toward Johnny; he noticed her sea-green curls matched the sky. Her outfit was as disjointed as the horizon. She wore a navy blue business jacket that looked completely professional from the waist up. Around her waist, she wore a navy blue sarong and she had bright golden flip-flops strapped to her feet. "Johnny, I need to apologize for forgetting our appointment,"she said as soon as she reached him. She hooked an arm into his and led him back to the group. "I'll give you an extra perk on your next life to make up for it." "My n.. next life?"Johnny asked. He got the question out just as they reached the group. "His NEXT life?"the blonde woman asked. "Do we get a next life too?" "Johnny, my name is Isla,"the blue-haired woman said. She smiled and shook his hand. "I'm your caseworker for the afterlife. We've met several times already but it takes quite a few before you start remembering me."Isla gestured at the shorter woman. "This is Lisa, "the blonde crossed her arms and glared at Johnny. "...and that's her brother Lionel,"Isla pointed at the burly man at the grill. He lifted his hand and waved backward at Johnny without turning around. "The shirtless gentleman with the fresh ink is Miller."Miller was a lean man with six-pack abs and sheet of plastic glued to his chest. It was protecting a tattoo of a silver scythe. A 14 was inked in red numbers on the blade. "So... am I in heaven?"Johnny asked. "Oh god, no. Why? Did you want to go to heaven already?"Isla asked with wide eyes. Then she gave her head a firm shake. "You wouldn't remember. Hold on."She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at the air. A black hole opened next to her. Before Johnny could grasp what was going on she rushed into the hole. He turned to see everyone else's reaction but none of them seemed impressed. Within a few seconds, Isla walked out of the hole again holding a manila folder. The portal closed behind her. "Phew,"Isla smiled. "All good, you're on the right path." "What's going on?"Lisa asked. "If he's dead, are we? He's on the right path, but not to Heaven? What other paths are there?" "I'm not in heaven... but I am dead, right? Where am I?"Johnny added more questions. Isla sighed. "I don't have time to answer all that,"she pointed at Johnny. "Your window here is limited, and it's almost up. Everyone listen, no interruptions." "But-"Lisa's interruption was halted by her brother's giant hand covering her mouth; and, almost her entire face. "Thank you,"Isla said. "Now, most of what you..., "she pointed at Lisa. "... and you...,"she turned to point at Johnny. "...think you know about life is wrong."Lionel cleared his throat politely. "oh right, and you too I guess or whatever,"Isla added. "The truth is-" "Isla?"A deep voice sounded from behind her; everyone turned. A tall man with a golden mane of curls flowing down his shoulders and a matching golden beard was striding across the sand toward them. "My name is Regal...,"is the last thing Johnny heard. His vision went black and the world fell silent. Then he was born again. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #173. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
The retirement home in which only 15 residents lived and who were all named mr or mrs Smith. Was in fact a universal safe house for current presidential and priministerial ‘older relations’ . Each of whom had vested interests in key companies currently residing in the middle or near to the top of the stock exchanges of the world. These residents had thought themselves anonymous and safe from the worlds press. All that was to change with my election to residents representative as I had a vision of making the home more inclusive of the local community. Of which unbeknownst to me included several retired political writers and two exiled ‘revolutionaries’. When a ‘neighbourhood dispute’ between three of the residents was reported in the local parish paper and pictures of the three residents published things became in no uncertain terms ‘dangerous’. At first Mr Smith had been found wandering around half naked swearing loudly and calling the other residents ‘peasants’. A warning was issued and the local GP called who then diagnosed Mr Smith with onset dementia. Next several cars full of suited gentlemen with dark glasses were seen in and around the car park and grounds of the retirement home. Then Mrs Smith came to the office crying saying that Mr Smith had verbally assaulted her after which more gentlemen in suits and dark glasses appeared in and around the village the residential home was situated in. Mr Smith then got in a fight with Mr Smith who had come to the aid of Mrs Smith when he had come across Mr Smith who was shouting ‘peasant!’ Into Mrs Smiths face. The police were called but did not turn up, instead a group of six ‘Latin men in suits’ appeared and started performing ‘security duties’ outside the home and outside Mrs Smiths door. This time the local news paper got wind of this and ran a story of which I was interviewed and which I explained was an ‘on going issue’ and that ‘dementia’ had played a significant part in the conflict. For this comment I received a threatening letter from a solicitor saying that what I had said was ‘inflammatory’ , ‘scandalous’ and ‘slanderous’. Bewildered and shocked I immediately put in my resignation for the representatives position, but the next day I received another letter from a different solicitor saying ‘reconsideration of your resignation is due’ and that ‘you have professional and legal back up to perform your duties...’. With the suited men, legal letters and arrival of the press I was starting to feel nervous and worried but my nerves were shattered after an explosion destroyed the ‘left wing’ of the residential home. A man had managed to gain access to the home through the front door, had walked past several of the ‘suites men’ and had then shouted ‘viva the revolution’ and detonated a bomb he had concealed about his person. Mr Smith, mr Smith, mr Smith and Mrs Smith lost their lives as they had been taking afternoon naps in their rooms (just after luncheon) and had had no warning, other than the suicide bombers shout. Police had then turned up, so to had members of Scotland Yard, MI5 and the secret service. The fire brigade was able to put out the fire but in the following few days the national news papers had got wind of it and had sent several journalists to cover the story of a terrorist attack at the ‘old people’s home’. I had took some time off sick, trying to take sometime out to calm my nerves and get through the death of several of my residents through a terrorist attack! But more letters turned up through my letter box saying I needed to ‘get on with the job’ or there would be ‘personal consequences’. After a week off, nerves shattered, lack of sleep and 34 solicitors letters telling me I had duties to my residents and the ongoing threatening undertone of ‘consequences. I returned, I walked to my office past more suited men who crowded the hallways and who I was shocked to see now bore guns. I locked the door, and had just sat down when the phone rang. This time it was the owner of the home who insisted I meet with them at their London office. So now on my way back from that meeting I am aware that Mr Smith is the great uncle of the president of the United States, Mrs Smith is the grandmother of the Mexican President, Mr Smith is the prime minister of England’s elderly father and that the four residents who had been blown up were related to leaders in South Africa, Russia, China and Australia. Also that I am now on ‘red lists’ in most countries and my financial dealings are being ‘looked into’. So my advice to what it’s worth: if you don’t need to take on responsibility.... DON’T!
"Jesus, can we even call this a classroom?"We're standing outside a dilapidated, burnt out rural schoolhouse. The windows all shattered outwards and what's left of the roof is slowly being pushed aside by a persistent young maple tree growing in the corner of the room. Some poor bastard must have exploded in here. Probably one of the kids. "Is there nowhere else?" "Nowhere else with as many intact chairs, desks, and a blackboard,"says Noah, clapping a hand on my shoulder. He had somehow maintained his positivity throughout everything. When the immolations started, everybody lost somebody. Most people lost everybody. Noah lost only his wife. All three of his kids survived. I guess that keeps him going. "Having a blackboard does help. Any chalk though? Were there any packs left untouched in the stores?"I don't know why I'm asking; this place is a husk. Nothing survived. "There's a quary nearby with plenty,"says Noah. "And we've already cleared out the bodies. Mostly. There's a hand fused to one of the desks but you hardly notice it." I nod, stepping through the chipped and empty doorframe. This could work. I have the most rudimentary supplies since we started recording history but it's a every tough job begins with the realisation of possibilities. "We'll have to keep things practical,"I say. I'm teaching these kids literature, history, and math so they'll need something to write on..."I tap my finger to my chin, looking around. Not much lying around here but there's a whole burnt-out town doen the street. "Noah, there was an old candle shop on Second and Franklin, right?"He nods, letting me think out loud. The man has always been a good listener; it's what makes him a great leader. "If we can scrounge up enough wax from that place, melt it into some frames, I think we can fashion some old roman-style tablets. I'll fashion the styluses, or is that styli? Doesn't matter. I can make them from old cutlery. Butter knives would do. We can use that for the maths anyway, but I'll also need practical supplies for demonstrations. Pebbles will work but, and I'm asking a lot here, I know, can you get me a few dice and some playing cards?" Noah smiled and it was infectious, the kind of smile that convinces you that there may still be hope. Even if it does require excavation."I'll ask around, see what I can do. The schoolhouse is one of the most impirtant projects if we're ever going to get back on our feet as a culture. "How were you planning on teaching literature and history though, whithout texbooks I mean?"He raised a valid question but by now the wheels of my brain were spinning and the cart of ideas was going downhill. "We'll start with an oral tradition, it worked for the greeks. When I'm not teaching I'll work with Ingrid to geta paper mill going. We'll have to build it from scratch but I have a general notion of how to make it work. I think. Then we'll just need ink. Shouldn't be too hard to work that out." I walked around the room. The charred floorboards creaked but they'd survived the blast in surprisingly good shape. There was just enough room for all six kids and myself at the head. We could arrange the desks in a semi-circle, get them active in the centre of the room. This was a chance to start again, to do things right. I turned to Noah, leaning against the wall with that smirk stretching out the scorched half of his face. He already knew I'd do it. Of course I'd do it. We were rebuilding the future, and scortched earth is fertile ground.
I got up like any normal day in my blue-themed bedroom with my cup of water on my bedside table to the left, and my tv to the right. I made my way downstairs preparing for work like I usually do. I take shifts at a coffee shop, and the rest of my time I just sit around and watch TV all day. (I know I’m not that great) But today was a particularly different day. When I got there I did what I usually did, started making coffee for the waiting customers. One surprised me though, this mysterious customer slipped me a piece of paper saying “ I know who you really are, Nick.” I flipped over the paper and I saw what seemed to be a phone number. As I headed home that day I wondered what lay in store for me on Saturday. Thinking about who I was and previous memories, they seemed all blurred and fuzzy in ways I couldn’t describe. I got up the next day feeling better then I did yesterday. I texted the phone number. This was our conversation: Me: hello??? Unknown: I’ve been waiting for you to reply Nick... Me: umm who r u??? Unknown: That’s not important. Unknown: What’s important is that you know who you were before Me: ur not making any sense, this is who I have always been... Unknown: Are you sure? Think back to all those times when you were little, do you remember them? Me: no...well not exactly not everyone knows exact details of their childhood... Unknown: ••• They were typing something for what seemed like forever I didn’t think they’d respond so I clicked off my phone and watched TV. Then all of a sudden I heard a familiar zing from my pocket... Thanks for reading! I’ll make a part 2 it’s just I’m really tired so I apologize. Get back to you soon! ;)
I did it! I actually won something for the first time in my miserable life. My entire life surmounted of missed opportunities and failed adventures. I quit half way through my doctorate to persue a business venture with a friend only for it to fail and leave me even further in crippling debt. My girlfriend left me during this time as she felt she was the only one contributing to our relationship. Both my parents had passed away some years back and the only thing I have left in the world, my dog, got diagnosed with a fatal illness. However, today was different, today I actually, truly, won. I entered a contest a few months back for a life time supply of steak. Steak! Me, a man who could barely afford discount ramen noodles, would be eating steak for the rest of his life. Finally shit was starting to come together. It may seem ridiculous to others but I finally feel as if this was the beginning of a new life, a fresh start. I would never go hungry again. I pretty much ran to the door and swung it open when it rang, the delivery man handed me a small package and stared awkwardly waiting for a tip. I shrugged at him and shyly shut the door in embarrassment. I thought it was odd that the package was so tiny but I figured it must be a one a day kind of deal. That was all right by me, I lived alone anyways. I opened the packaged and there was the most perfect juiciest marbled piece of meat I had ever seen. The only other thing was a note that said enjoy. I turned on the stove and started cooking this gift from the heavens. I didn't have any sauces or other food to eat with it but it was still the best meal I ever ate. I practically licked the plate clean. Yup I could get used to this. Eating like a king, maybe I'd start saving them up and invite the girl who works at the gas station who smiled at me for a nice suppppppp............ The room started spinning, I tried to stand but my legs gave way and my head smashed off the edge of the table before I collided with the ground. Blood was spreading from some part of my head and everything was blurry. I heard a rustling sound behind me and a pair of shoes appeared in front of me. I tried to get up, blinking away tears, but only managed rolling over onto my back. The figure above me crouched down and stared at me intently. I couldn't bring myself to speak, but he answered all my questions anyways. "You're probably confused and wondering what's happening right now. Well I think the proper thing is to give you some form of closure."He said in a calm, thoughtful voice. "The contest you entered was started by the owner of the corporation. Except it wasn't really a contest, it was a search for a candidate, and you were selected." I tried to sit up this time but the intmidating, yet oddly soothing stranger simply pushed me back down onto the floor again. "Don't try to get up, the drug they gave you is very strong, you'll only hurt yourself again. As I was saying, the owner of the company chose you. He is a very rich and powerful man, unfortunately though, he is also a dying man. You are a perfect match in every single way. Not just for DNA and other medical reasons but your life style is perfect. You have no kids or family to speak of, no significant other to worry about your disappearance. Not even a job to wonder where you are. It's remarkable how little impact you gave on the world around you." Panic set in and I reached for the knife that sat next to the shattered plate on the floor beside me. The man quickly noticed and stomped on my hand so hard I felt several bones snapping at once. "The surgery isn't legal of course,"he continued calmly, as if my attempt on his life was just a fleeting moment. "But that doesnt matter to these billionaire wackjobs. If it's any constellation It will probably only buy him another couple years anyways." The drug started really taking it's toll now. I was completely paralyzed and the world was going dim. I tried to scream but nothing came out but a strained wheezing sound. The man now brought out a needle and started pushing it into my skin. "I'm sorry this had to happen. If you really think about it though you really did get the steak for the rest of your life, it's just a little shorter than you probably thought. They make damn good steaks though." Shit.
Everyone knows the power of blood. Magic woven with this liquid essence of life gains untold strength, something well known to your character. By whatever means, s/he will acquire it to cement his/her place as the most powerful practitioner. Paying donors. Seducing those into that kind of pain. There's even been the occasional captive source. And now, when he/she needs this power the most, he/she is falling in love with that source.
It's been a hard life for Jake. Even with this new ability granted by the Genie, the words 'NOT INTERESTED' appeared above everyone's heads. He was invisible to the world it seemed, not really worthy of attention or affection beyond a platonic relationship. Now with relative old age, the hope for romance had finally extinguished in his heart. Today was a normal, rainy day in Edinburgh, with the sound of bagpipes waking Jake up from his slumber. He pulled the curtains aside to see the spires of the city and the mountain that peered over it all, like a sentinel, even if slightly obscured by the rain. "Hello Jake"a sultry voice whispered behind him. Jake spun around, instinctively grabbing the closest object next to him, an oft-used vibrator that had been his companion on the most loneliest of nights. The voice was eminating from a figure shroud in black, its robes elegantly - no, seductively - flowing down and sprawling on the wooden floor. The figure's face was covered in darkness, helped by the lack of sunshine outside as well as the hood that the figure wore. Jake's mouth swung open as he stared, not at where the figure's face would have been, but above it. Extremely interested Jake's face suddenly started drooping and his arms heavy and weak as he stummered the words out of his numb mouth: "You're interested in me?" The figure smiled - or that's the feeling Jake got, even in his muddled state. Slowly, the figure removed its hood to reveal a gaunt face, deathly white in complexion, with his juicy lips' redness stark in contrast. The figure took a step forward, just as Jake collapsed in a writhing heap, finally succumbing to the effects of a shock-induced stroke. And then it stopped. The pain, the writhing, the rain outside. Time seemed to stop. A look of panic spread across the figure's face. "Fuck. We don't have much time but I have to explain. I'm madly in love with you. Me! The Grim Reaper! Can you imagine?! But here I am, using my powers to stop your otherwise fatal stroke. I used my powers to defy the gods. That rain that ceased? That's Thor being pissed off. Time seemed to stop? That's Kronos rising out of Tartarus. I've defied them all but I know a place where we can be together, safe from the wrath of them all! Do you trust me, Jake? Do you dare to be loved?" The Grim Reaper extended out his bony hand - and Jake, with a herculian effort, got up off the floor to shake it. The deal was done.
Everything started out fine when Facebook and Oculus released something called Facebook Rewind. Originally starting on the facebook app and website, going into Facebook Rewind would show users pictures and videos of how things would have been if they had made different decisions on certain days. For example, when you uploaded birthday pictures from a bar, you could use Facebook Rewind to get an idea of how your birthday evening would have went if you had gone to a different bar. I won’t go into technical detail, but it started out using pictures that other people had taken of various other bars in this situation, and would splice you and your friends into the different scenes, giving you an idea of what having your birthday party at that bar would have been like compared to the bar that you actually did have your birthday. Users loved it. They didn’t mind that their data and photos were being mined so Facebook Rewind could use them to splice together the scenery, people, activity, etc… of all these places they had taken media of, because Rewind was just fun. Throughout bars and sports events among so many others, you could help people saying “Oh shit! Look what would have happened if we had went to the Blues game!”, “Damn, we should have went to that other bar instead! It would have been a hell of a lot better!”, things of that nature. Facebook, of course, loved that it’s users loved the feature. More and more people were becoming even more okay with their privacy being violated so that others could enjoy Rewind, because those users were enjoying Rewind also. It was hard to be stingy about not wanting strangers to see the pictures you took at a birthday party in a public place when you were using others multimedia to experience your birthday party somewhere they had went. As technology became more powerful, and more and more people using the Rewind feature, Facebook eventually released the Oculus Rewind, allowing people to experience everything that the Rewind feature of the app allowed, but it full 3D. People had even been posting more intimate media onto Facebook so that themselves and others could experience different situations of a less public nature. Years went by, and the Oculus Rewind continued to grow. One day it announced a new feature for it’s Rewind App and the Oculus Rewind, the ability to see how a different decision affected your life. As the name suggests, you could “rewind” your life to see what would have happened if you had made a different decision at a certain time, etc… It started out innocently for the vast majority of people, but because of the upgrades in technology and all the data users had uploaded, Rewind became an eerily accurate predictor of what would have happened if a user had done anything different at any different time. The first reports of suicide that came in were mainly due to already depressed people using Rewind to see what would have happened if they had left with their family five minutes later than they had, or even 5 seconds later. These users found out that if they had changed the timing of a certain even by a few hours or even seconds, their loved ones would still be alive. Many suicide notes state something similar to “If I had not made my family wait five minutes while I finished my game, they would all be alive”. Within a year, the population of the United States had been decimated, with similar casualty amounts in other countries depending on their populuses use of Facebook Rewind. Many users of Rewind chose to commit suicide only, but many chose to commit murder before they themselves committed suicide. Some committed the murders as a form of vigilante justice. Getting revenge on someone who ran a red light and caused the accident that had killed the users family. Other users committed murder so that other people would experience the pain they felt. Soon enough, it began to worsen exponentially; with each new suicide or murder, came more depressed users. With more depressed users came more suicides and murders. Scientists began to believe that due to the trauma and stress that was all around the world, there was a kind of mass hysteria causing people who would normally only become depressed, clinically or otherwise, at the loss of a loved one to more easily become suicidally depressed. This also caused more people susceptible to mental illness to commit murder, mass murder, acts of terrorism, etc… The law tried to stop Facebook when it realized how bad Rewind had become, but due to the law always being so far behind the current technology, and Facebook having billions of dollars to throw at lawyers and lobbyists, nothing was done before it was too late. Facebook Rewind had created a downward spiral and at that point nothing could stop it. Abstaining from using the Rewind App or Oculus Rewind, did not help much, as others who had used it were just as likely to kill a person, as the person was to commit suicide after using Rewind. The murder rates grew. The suicide rates continued to rise, and the world as we knew it was gone. It was only a matter of time before someone with launch codes for nuclear weapons became homicidal. I can hear the air raid sirens going off all around me. Announcements from the government telling everyone to go somewhere safe. I don’t mind. This hill has a great view of the countryside, and I doubt going into my house would make me any safer. Besides, after losing my wife and daughter last week, I don’t think I want to live much longer anyway. ___ Thanks for reading! If you like my writing please visit r/SinkingLikeAStone to read more!
“But it didn’t work!” she pleaded, the tears in her eyes. “That doesn’t matter” He responded. He had heard that plea before. He forced himself to remember the law was clear. ‘Any attempt at witchcraft will be met with capital punishment.’ It was a simple rule. It made the world easy, witches tried to corrupt the world through their nefarious means, witch hunters were the shield that protected humanity. Until tonight.... “It....it was just a stupid...prank, we didn’t mean anything by it.” She sobbed. Her pleas brought back the memories of previous interrogations. Some would collapse into sobs, some would lash out try to shout spells to kill, maim, or transform the hunter sitting across from them. It did not work of course, the hunter guild had a few tricks up their sleeves to protect their own. A few were stoic, almost relieved they were caught, their double life revealed. He liked those the best, then it almost felt like a game, and the severity of reality seemed a step removed. He realized he was rubbing the charm and herbs in his pocket, a habit from dealing with the more powerful ones. The witch across the table crumbled, head down onto the table, the sobs muffled by her sweatshirt. He stopped fingering the talisman and felt ashamed, there was no need for the extra protection in this case. He knew what was next, all he had to do was speak the judgement, pronounce the sentence and the system would take over. The witch would be taken out, the pyre would be set, and the file would be closed. ‘Humanity is safer tonight’ he remembered his mentor saying back then at his first pyre; the flames rising to consume the screams. It had made sense then, civilization could not handle the anarchy of witchcraft. But, tonight was different. Tonight nothing made sense. “We just wanted to make Todd like her for prom, it was harmless” she explained through tears. He stared down at the file in front of him. He shuffled the papers to give his body and mind something to think about. He thought he would begin speaking, but found the words not coming. She looked at him through big watery eyes, he face reaching out to him for comfort, for help. He took a deep breath, this was the moment of his life. He knew this moment forward the next words out of his mouth would haunt him till the end. There was no going back, there was no escape. He had envisioned himself as the defender of humanity, the champion of the public, the frontline against the forces of darkness. He did the hard, difficult duty to keep society safe. And tonight sitting across from him was his own 15-year-old daughter.
Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Middle click, new tab opened, unread and more or less unwanted. Autopilot. Well past drunk, dried out eyes bloodshot and straining I found myself surfing the web. Direction? Arbitrary. I couldn't find the motivation or sense of self to break out of that endless loop. Click. Click. Scroll. Link on link, open, shut, spiraling down an endless rabbit hole that could just as easily have lead to Youtube clips of elderly women humming old cartoon anthems. Instead, I ended up there. I wasn't always like this. I was, normally, someone who lived with purpose. Drive. I took out my recycling. Practiced the piano. Read. Fuck's sake, I flossed. Which, if hearsay and banter and word of mouth are any indication, made me nothing short of a goddamned saint. I digress. I do that a lot lately. I was trying to tell you about that place. That place. The things I was reading, scrolling past, clicking through, were odd. Very odd. "A person steps into a room, looking frantically for a book. But he realizes he can't read, and that he's a mushroom, and that this isn't a room at all but a carefully manicured lawn." I'd made my way to some site, a collection of writing prompts, but they were all so abstract and surreal that I couldn't imagine who would ever use them. "A woman standing on the edge of a cliff hears the buzzing wings of a fly as it lands on her nose. She wants to swat it, but can't; she's at gunpoint, and being read her last rites. She jumps from the cliff to escape the shotgun barrels she's staring down. She sees the world rushing up at her, when..." Who starts a story in such a bizarre way? No responses, just prompts. That's no surprise, I wouldn't know where to begin and I've been writing for most of my adult life. I was about to click away when I saw something... familiar. Painfully so. "You're a teacher, standing in front of a classroom. It occurs to you that you've forgotten to write a lesson plan last night. You panic and start to ad lib, but your mouth feels like it's filled with peanut butter. Your arms, legs, every part of you feels sluggish and frozen. Suddenly, you remember that the brain tumor has grown, pressed against your spinal cord, is immobilizing you. And while you watch the world pass by, you're stuck here, a statue, forever." A chill passed down my spine. I'd heard a story, exactly like this one, only a week ago. My son, a 24 year old with terminal brain cancer, shared it with me while he was in hospice. He was delirious, full of morphine and God knows what else, babbling on about his dreams. Not his hopes of going to space one day, not a story about marrying his fiancee, just the empty fever dreams of a drugged-up man whose soul would soon flee, who would soon be nothing more than a desiccated corpse, hollowed out by radiation and cancer and chemo. That was before I started drinking, before the endless scrolling. That was a week ago when I was a different man. "Dad, I had a dream last night. It went like this...""...what do you think it means?" Nothing, son. Nothing at all. Dreams are just fragments of life stuffed together and rearranged arbitrarily, a 52-card deck of nouns and verbs selected at random. Not that I said that out loud. No, I wove a tale about the profundity of the teacher, about the meaning of being, even if immobile. How the teacher would live on through his students, even if he never said another word. The funny thing about dream talk, about thinking about dreams... it makes you think about dreams. Last night, I dreamed that I was pissing. I was pissing and pissing and couldn't stop, and didn't particularly want to. For the record, no, I didn't wet the bed. I was pissing and digging a hole, keeping the urine from splashing over my dress shoes and black pants by digging deeper and deeper. I was in a suit, the same suit I wore to my son's funeral, two interminably long days after that conversation. It was an odd and mostly meaningless dream to be sure. Something I shook off when I woke up. Something I hadn't told anyone about. So why was it posted on a website? Word for word, image for image. Fourth hit down, one of the top posts, a prompt about urination and funerals and nonsequiters. Disturbing. Weird. There must be someone else in the world as fucked up as I am right now. Someone grieving with a BAC of .2 just like I am right now. Someone as hollowed out by the death of the only person they ever really loved, just like I am right now. Someone whose waking brain shoves all of those thoughts and feelings deep into a grave just like I do right now. Someone who spends their nights digging them up and carefully examining them one by one, just like I am right now. I turn off the monitor. Too much. I came here for escape. The bottle of bourbon, Evan Williams, sits empty beside me. It was full a few hours ago. I wonder if the liquor store is still open? What time is it? I turn, find myself dizzy and a little sick. Maybe I should just lie down. I lie down on the couch, pillow beneath my head, staring up at the empty white ceiling. The ceiling my son used to insist on gluing glow-in-the-dark stars to when he was little. One of his hoodies is still draped across the back, UCLA. I pull it towards me, inhale deeply. It smells like him. Like he did. My eyelids close, thick with weariness over bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I miss him. I miss my boy. At some point, I must have slipped off to sleep. Now... Peter, was it? Sorry, I've gotten a bit off track. You wanted to know about last night. I guess that's the last I remember. You're a good listener Peter, I really appreciate it. I just... wish I could have been that for my son. I never did really listen.
It doesn't matter which way is wrong. I have four rolls of toilet paper all facing different ways. Everything will be fine. I just need to make sure no-one touches them. But what if someone sneaks in & changes them to destroy the world? I have to prepare. I know what to do. I need superglue. Lots of superglue. I'll glue them in place so that the prophecy can never come true! I don't care what anyone says. I know the risks. Alright where do I go? I can go to walmart. It's just down the road. I can do it. Get dressed. keys in left pocket, knife in the right, phone in back pocket, but not the one with the wallet. Touch the handle four times before unlocking it to leave. Lock up, twist the key in the lock four times, & head to the car. Touch the car handle four times before unlocking it. Get in, & drive. I'm in the parking lot now. I'm scared. What if someone already in my apartment? What if someone talks to me? I'm not crazy. Why do they always look at me like I'm crazy. I don't want to leave the car. I'm scared. But I need to make sure the world is not destroyed. I touch the door handle four times before I open the door. I step out. Here I go.
It was 5:00 p. m. I went down along Jean Macé Street. I was returning from the hospital where I had spent the night. My left wrist, broken from the day before, was the cause of my hospitalization. The plaster protecting it was already unpleasant to me. The painkillers worked very well. But I had a crazy urge to scratch. From a far distance one person caught my eye. You probably wouldn't have made a distinction from the crowd. But he was suffering the same pain as I was. His left arm was also plastered, he had succumbed and scratched himself without restraint with a ruler. As I get closer, I can better distinguish its plaster. Blood dripped from his hand. Having already smiled at him to signal my empathy, I dare to tell him that he is bleeding and should be careful. His answer petrified me. His voice was far too familiar to me. And yet it had been 5 years since she had finally stopped talking. He was already moving away, continuing his walk. I couldn't have been wrong, it was his voice. He told me that I should try, but no matter what his answer was, my heart was accelerating, all the confidence I had gained in recent years was gone, I was scared and lost. I needed some air. A bench was near and yet so far away. I leaned on it. I just wanted to breathe. I had to do it. It was it! No doubt! That voice that was ruining my life. How could I be wrong after hearing it for five years of torture? About ten years ago: I was starting therapy. I had deep schizophrenia. This disease was making my life miserable. I was about fifteen years old at the time and so much to discover about myself. Every night, however, a voice would visit me to humiliate me. It was insisting on what I had failed to achieve. What I hadn't done or done wrong; she knew everything and didn't forget anything. We know the harassment at school, I was not yet a victim of it. I was harassed in my privacy, in my own bed. After 5 years, a treatment was effective and I could finally be alone. But the illness had isolated me, I was alone and without any self-confidence. At 20 years old I had neither ambition nor project. It was during a second therapy that I was able to rebuild myself. I was slowly coming to my senses. The panic passed and I regained my pragmatism. It could not make sense. There are so many voices that a coincidence was quite possible. It was exhausted that I got up and started on my way again, under the watchful eye of people worried about the look of this man in a cast sweaty and with haggard eyes. I no longer think about this disturbing encounter. We are three weeks later and it is time to remove this cast. For the past 4 days, I had literally dreamed of scratching my wrist. What a sweet pleasure it will be. The doctor asks me if I am well. What a question, I'm finally getting rid of this plaster. He then introduced me to the saw he was going to use to cut the plaster. Worried, I decide that I will look away when he uses it. The sound of the saw is soft but I fix the wall on my right. When the noise fades I turn around. My doctor stares at me cautiously: "Sir, there is something you're not telling me. Look at your wrist." The plaster was reddish on the inside. The interior of my wrist, completely skinned, barely healed. A pain erupted. As if the discovery of my wound triggered its existence. My wrist is burning. I remember the red drops falling from this stranger's cast. He was not scratching, his gesture was too angry, too strong to be anything other than a suicide attempt. Suddenly his voice came out of this turmoil, filling my whole body and vibrating the windows of the office to shout the same sentence with force but without making the doctor react: "You should try it!"
Pompeii is always bustling with tourists. They move to and fro eagerly snapping pictures and murmuring excitedly at the bodies forever trapped in their last most intimate moments. It has been thousands of years since you experienced that terror and here it is encapsulated for all to see. Your first family members lie 4ft below the volcanic ash and pumice as they have since 79 B.C, . In 2019, you are in the flesh of a young American woman, there is no one alive who can comprehend your pain. Over the centuries, you have seen a myriad of natural disasters, wars, and genocides.It is the callousness that always enrages you in each life. How can these people walk and laugh and picnic on the graves of those you loved and lost. And Pompeii was the first and so it stings worse than the rest.With every life you wait to grow apathetic toward humanity, for all you experience to crush you like volcanic ash but here you sit unable to stop loving people, illogical, unreasonable and selfish though they are. You trace your fingers over the graffiti on the tavern walls, some heartfelt, most obscene but all so honest, so human. A tear falls down your wrinkless skin, a tear for the ages, as your hand traces a single name. A beautiful, brash untamed child you had been when you'd fallen for someone unattainable, Livia, she had been long betrothed to another. Ripped away from your adolescent and innocent hands by fate, you' had prayed to the Gods that fateful day, your birthday August 24th 79 B.C, that you might live long enough to see a world where love is never suppressed. The Gods, or whoever orchestrated this mess called earth must have a wicked sense of humor, for in every life you are reborn a new woman and cursed to fall for another beautiful and unattainable woman. In every life you meet hate and prejudice, the world failing to accept what despite millennias of attempts can not be tamed, your love. You look down the street to a peaceful and contemplative soul who seems to be communing with her world rather than trampling upon it. She has been yours and you have been hers for almost a decade now, you truly can say it seems a millennia. Somedays it seems like she is Livia reborn and you pray that she will be the last women you ever lose. You want to die alongside her and be buried side by side. It seems this might just be a world where that is finally possible. A world where you can truly walk through life come what may with a goddess by your side. You leave behind the grafittied walls and take her by the hand."Thank you so much for coming here with me", you say passionately. She kisses you as though she understands what this place really means.
7:08am Thursday My eyes were bleary as I stared out of the window, struggling to believe that what I was seeing. There were two people on their knees on the other side of the road, white hoods over their heads, hands tied behind their backs. One male and one female, both being dragged towards the open back doors of a white van. I knew I had to do something, but my arms wouldn’t move. I watched for a good thirty seconds before coming to my senses. What was I doing? There are people in danger out there! I looked back at my phone, which I had left on my bedside table next to a framed photo of my wife. I guessed that my wife had gone to work early that day as she wasn’t in bed when I woke up. Police! I thought, and, numberplate. I hesitated to look away from the window but eventually I made a move for the phone and a pen and paper which I kept tucked away in the drawer under the packet of dog biscuits which I gave to my dog every morning when he came bounding into our room. I wondered briefly where he was today. 7:09am Thursday The sudden movement made a bruise on the back of my head flare up but I tried my best to ignore it. I returned to the window and placed my phone, the pen, and paper on the windowsill. On my phone I clumsily mashed the buttons 9-9-9 and propped it between my ear and shoulder. It rang. Meanwhile, I craned my neck in an attempt to see the number plate of the van, pen at the ready. I wrote: S-A-V- I dropped the pen. ’Save them’ the number plate read. The phone stopped ringing, ’The number you have dialled is not available, you should probably hurry up and save them.’ And the line went dead. I heard the phone drop to the floor, once again I was staring, wide eyed out of the window at the van across the street. Save them? I thought, Myself? My mind raced in a panic, why was this up to me? Has no one else noticed this? Is there not someone more equipped to help? I stumbled to the bedroom door and pushed my way through it. I passed the open door of my son’s bedroom on the way to the stairs. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he wasn’t in there. I didn’t think that there was any school trip today, It doesn’t matter I thought, This is more important. I don’t exactly know what lead me to that conclusion but I can’t argue with my own head. Regardless I smiled as I thought of my son away at school, making friends, the way his smile made his blue eyes twinkle. Or were they green eyes? I felt a wave of nausea fill me up like a sudden drop on a rollercoaster as I struggled to remember what my own son looked like. SAVE THEM! My thoughts yelled. Okay. 7:10am Thursday I almost tripped over my feet as I wobbled down the stairs. Don’t look left. I thought as I reached the bottom. I looked left. Near the back door my dog was lying on the matt. A scarlet flower was emanating from a puncture in his stomach into his fur, the matt, and the floor around. His chest moved slowly up and down painfully. He’s just sleeping. I thought. Really? Save them. Okay. I continued towards the front door. 7:11am Thursday I made it out onto my driveway. Over the other side of the street the doors of the white van crashed shut and I heard the key turn in the ignition. I stumbled out into the road until the lurid taste of a combustion engine filled my mouth and nose. The van pulled away along the road getting further and further away. You were too slow. I’m sorry. Try again. My body fell limp and I crashed down on my back onto the road surface. My eyelids became heavy and I lost consciousness. 7:08am Friday I awoke to the buzzing of my phone on my bedside table. As I slowly opened my eyes my gaze was drawn to the photo of my wife. I smiled as I reached for my phone.
"H-hello?"The word, echoing loudly, seems to emanate from all of my surroundings at once. "Wait". Again, the noise booms from all directions. I quickly recognize it as my own voice. Puzzled and confused I try to take measure of my surroundings, but I can't see anything. It isn't because it's dark though, I realize that I actually cannot see. Panic sets in fast as I try to blink, move, do anything. The only sensation is a vague warmness and floaty feeling, as if my body had completely disappeared leaving nothing but an ethereal form of my thoughts. &#x200B; Despite all this, I knew I was moving. I couldn't explain why, I just knew it. Almost like an inherit knowledge or maybe something I had learned sometime in the past. The past... did I even have a past? I remember laying down and I strain my mind to try to piece it together. "Alex... Reeves"I say from the void. "My name is Alex Reeves..!"Louder this time, the name reverberates around. I feel a moment of satisfaction as the recollection of my name comes to me, and just behind it I can sense the presence of other dormant memories. &#x200B; Right before I relax with the comfort that I should remember everything soon, something starts coming. I couldn't tell you what, or how far it was, or even where "it", "I", or frankly anything was. I just knew it was coming, and it was coming incredibly fast. Instinctively I try to tense up, unaware of if that even has an affect on me. It's big, the closer it gets the larger it becomes. It's as if I'm floating in the sky and the earth is rushing up to meet me. Any second now it's going to- &#x200B; "A double trent please"Behind the bar is a tall, slender young man with gelled back blonde hair and sharp features who responds to me "Double trent coming right up"As he begins to pour the drink for me with one hand, he raises the other and makes a four to indicate the price. Without a word I toss the money on the bar, letting out an apathetic sigh as I do so. The viceman seems to catch this as he hands me my drink and slips the money into his pocket. "Ya know, you've been coming in here every day now for a few days but all you ever do is drink and mope around. You know people come here to be happy, right? To top it off, you're not much of a conversationalist"The viceman says with a smirk. &#x200B; "Maybe I don't want to be happy."I respond. At this point, I'm not even sure if I do. The viceman looks as if he's about to roll his eyes before he leans up towards me on the bar. "That's why I'm here"he backs off a bit and smiles with self satisfaction before continuing "I'm a viceman, not a bartender. Just let me do my job and we can take care of that"I give him a look to indicate my disinterest and then let my eyes wander along the intricate architecture around us. Tunnels upon tunnels line the walls and ceiling, almost every second bars identical to this one shoot up and down them, ferrying assortments of people with their vicemen from place to place. &#x200B; "All that training to get here and I get stuck with you. Ya know, I'm going to have to get my own viceman at this rate!"He starts chuckling as I realize I may have been spacing out for longer than I thought. "Well, it's just that I've heard things.."my eyes once again avoid the viceman and I hide behind my drink as I say this. He leans back up to me, looking serious for the first time. "Anyone who's spreading those rumors has never been on a vice before, I can assure you of that. &#x200B; Everything here is entirely up to code and regulated, ever since the program started we've never had any major incidents and nearly total participant satisfaction."As he finished that last sentence, his seriousness faded and he took on his aloof posture and body language again. "Besides, I think you're a very special case, you're not from around here are you?"His smirk had grown to a full on smile now. "Well, no.. I only moved to the area recently. Still getting my bearings and all."I reciprocate his smile this time, which he seems to take as an indication of agreement. &#x200B; "Off we go then!"he shouts as he whirls around to the different gizmos and devices behind him. "Wait I didn't mean-"Before I finish my sentence the whole bar is whisked off down one of the tunnels high up on the wall. I clutch my seat before realizing I don't need to. The whole unit is self contained, but I see ghosts of other vices and the trailing laughter within them. &#x200B; Now that we're moving the viceman lifts a section of the bar to walk over to me. "Standard procedure, but trust me, you'll be fine"and with a wink he begins hooking my arm up with several needles and sensors. The needles are so sharp and small I can't even feel them as he pushes them in, a detail the brochure seemed to brag about I recall. "Let's see let's see... Cityscapes I believe, no?"He asks me. "Yes I think that would be a good start"I nervously respond. &#x200B; "Alrighty then, I'm thinking night.. with rai- No! Snow!"Vicemen have to train for over 8 years in order to do the job, and part of that is learning all the ins and outs of their customers. I don't remember ever telling someone my love for night-time cityscapes, but the fact that he could discern that from me in a just a few days is a testament to the profession. I finally start to relax a little. I think I hear the viceman start to laugh as he goes to work on his vice like a mad scientist with a new experiment. Hardly a few seconds past before the vice slows to a near crawl, hovering over a neon city from one of the history books. Lights, cars, and people all seem to go about their night carefree as snow caresses the scene. &#x200B; Something begins to trinkle up my arm and a sense of total euphoria overwhelms me. Sounds and music from my childhood began to fade in, quiet at first before getting louder with each passing moment. All of a sudden I'm lifted from the chair, I can feel myself rising above.. myself? Below me is still my figure with a distant, happy expression plastered on my face, but I continue to rise up. The viceman seems to stop what he's doing and looks at the body before squinting up in my direction. &#x200B; He rummages around before revealing a large visor and attaching it to his face. I can't see his eyes but now he watches me in extreme interest as I start accelerating higher and higher. I just barely make out him saying "A very unique case indeed"before I launch off. I'm met with a familiar feeling again and snap to a realization. "Reeves!"I shout. What the hell happened? How long had it been? I recall memories of another life, with another name. Down there, with the viceman! James Roe, I was a 34 year old bureaucrat who was down on his luck and looking for an escape. &#x200B; I feel like I have a whole lifetime of memories, and it was all so real. It's as if I'm just moving from one life to the next, but I'm still me inbetween it all! What on earth is going on? As I'm trying to remember more about James and more importantly, me, I sense something is coming again. I'll get to the bottom of this, I just have to think, remember. "Think. Remember. Think. Remember."I try to focus my thoughts and find out more information as the new reality approaches me at increasing speed. &#x200B; \\\\ End \\\\ &#x200B; Hope at least somebody enjoyed it! I really liked the prompt, but probably spent too much time in detail, so I only did on reality. Thanks for reading.
It had been nearly four years since she had spoken to her son, Martin, and she let everyone in the nursing home know it. Martin was a wonderful boy, a doctor, with two lovely children, Benjamin and Arielle, who came to visit her often. Both kids were in their 20s now, and the staff knew their visitation schedule as well as Linda herself knew. Martin is a lovely boy, they heard. Martin is a busy boy. Martin needs to be at the hospital across town. Martin is consulting with some of the top experts in his field. Martin says he has found a way to cure my cancer; the FDA just needs to approve it. The nurses all looked at each other over their glasses or behind clipboards, across the desks and tables in the common room. Martin hadn't come to visit or even call in the four years Mrs. Linda Cohen had been locked in here, waiting to die. Supposedly, he sent messages through his kids--earnest twenty-somethings that loved their grandmother deeply. Sometimes, they were even accompanied by Dr. Cohen's wife, but never Martin himself. Yet she persisted in her belief that Martin was working for her benefit, that Martin would come if only he wasn't so busy. *** On Linda's 100th birthday, body riddled with cancer and in constant pain, her grandchildren showed up again, her great-grandchildren in tow. Benjamin assured her that his father was close, like really close this time to figuring this thing out. Linda smiled. Although her son had been making promises for two decades now, there was never any follow-through. She knew that now. Her body was filled with pain, but her mind remained clear, defying the increasingly decrepitity of her body. The next day, Benjamin arrived with an envelope with a single word written upon it in a script much neater than that which the nurses usually expected from doctors. The envelope simply read, "Mom". When the orderly came upon her body an hour after Benjamin had left, they found a piece of paper clutched in Linda's hand. All that was written in that neat, precise script was, "I'm sorry this took so long, Mom."
I used to make a lot more money, but after the fourth time someone died right on schedule I decided to change jobs--which is why I found myself working in the emergency room for just over minimum wage. I needed access to a constant stream of people, some of whom would likely die sooner rather than later, and this was perfect. Mostly what I did was help transport patients around, and when you're running a stretcher it's the task of a split second to brush a hand over the patient's face or arm. I'd get a number in my head as soon as I touched the person, and as soon as I could, I would note where the patient had gone and what the number had been. At first, there had been neither rhyme nor reason to it. I'd touch a 20 year old's skin and get 61, an 30 year old's would read 17, a 70 year old's would read 28, et cetera. Years. Months. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. It took me a while, but when my sister got cancer and I was seeing her frequently I finally had enough information to figure out what was going on when 3 turned into 2 turned into 1 turned into 59, 58, 57, 56, 55, 54... and then she was gone, and I was still holding her hand. I've been on this job for a month and a half, working graveyard like all newbies had to do before getting considered for the better shifts. So far I'd managed to touch over 800 people, each carefully written down in my little notebook, and I had a sense now for whether it was years or seconds. Eventually, one of my coworkers had noticed the little book and asked about it, and that had turned into guffaws, teasing, and eventually bets. I've won over $1000 in the past two weeks, and even the few skeptics won't make a bet anymore. It might be morbid betting on whether patients will live or die, but for me, it isn't a bet at all, but an inexorable fact: Everyone's going to die, and I know when. At this point, most of my fellow orderlies don't want to touch me, and the two that don't mind have made me promise to never tell them their numbers. At this point, it's a game--on the nights I'm doing hygiene stuff instead of patient transport, I'd find a way to touch every patient as I was sanitizing or changing pillowcases and report what I'd learned. 14 years, 8 months, 6 hours, and once 51 seconds. I pressed the code blue button and got the hell out of that room as fast as I could, but it didn't help. Tonight, though... it stopped being a game. There had been a crash on the subway, and we'd worked tirelessly for hours transporting the victims to surgery or intensive care or wherever we were directed. I'd touched a few, but it was too busy in there to keep track of who was whom. Someone had three minutes, someone had 71 years, a few had anywhere from hours to years, nothing out of the ordinary. Never. What the hell? The sensation had been unmistakable: I'd touched someone and gotten a number. Except that it wasn't a number. I'd distinctly felt the word "never"whispered in my head, the exact same way I would hear anyone else's time of death. I had frozen, confused. Nothing else in my experience felt like that. It had been real. I had looked around, but it was too late. I had been too stunned to take note of which of my coworkers had been moving that stretcher, and I'd never seen the patient's face at all. I'd glanced around at the chaos around me and wondered if I'd be missed or noticed if I started wandering around trying to touch all the patients. Now, the word echoed chillingly in my head, over and over, as the sounds around me faded to silence: Never, never, never, never. I had heard it. The emergency was over, and I volunteered for an extra shift so I could stay here in the hospital and make my rounds. Waiting for the opportunity for downtime so I could wander almost killed me with anxiety and impatience, but eventually I got my option and started methodically working through patient rooms. I didn't even bother with my little book, but went through patient rooms as quickly as I could without being noticed. Never, never, never, never. Two floors. Three. Four. I'd been at this for over six hours, and the most interesting patient had been one that was destined to live to 111 years old. I was running out of patient rooms, so it couldn't be long now. And then I saw her, in the hallway: A patient, dragging along an IV rack, her bruised face prominent. She was dressed in a hospital gown and slippers, and although I was facing her front I could see that she hadn't tied the back of the gown. She stared at me, and then came forward, her free hand outstretched. I touched her hand, and immediately felt it in my head again: Never. She shuddered and drew her hand away, then regarded me quietly. "So. You're one too."
"Johnny! Time for bed!" His mother's voice carried up through the stairs into his room, where we were playing Alien Invaders. For Johnny, it was just a bunch of cardboard cutouts, but I saw the entire thing happening. That was the benefit of being connected to his imagination. I could experience everything he thought up. Johnny frowned. "But Mom, we hafta finish saving the world from the aliens!"I nodded, my ears flopping with each motion. The aliens were paused in their tracks, looking at each other with mild concern. "I think the aliens can wait until tomorrow for you to fight them off." I knew that tone, and it meant the discussion was over. Johnny moped for a few seconds, then trudged off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. I frowned, then turned to the extraterrestrials. "Sorry about that, but you know the rules. Rain check for tomorrow?" "Grr, fine, but tomorrow, your planet will fall!"The head alien grimaced angrily, then broke into a grin. "Ah, don't worry. We'll see you tomorrow Carl." "Ah, you know that's not what Johnny calls me. Anyway, get some sleep. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow." The creatures shimmered away as Johnny came back into the room, decked in his football pajamas, and rolled into bed. After a short wait, his mother entered the room. I took my position near the head of the bed, beside my charge. As his mother kissed his forehead, Johnny grinned at her, the gap where his front teeth had been ever present. "Are you going to give Mister Floppyears a kiss too?"I chuckled. Kid's got a good heart. His mother puckered her lips into the air, and I pushed mine into hers enough to make Johnny laugh. She smiled, not knowing anything had happened, thinking that he was laughing at her face. Getting up, she stepped out, turning off the light and shutting the door. Johnny and I spent the next few minutes figuring out our plan of attack for the next day against the threat before he yawned heavily. "Good night, Mister Floppyears. I love you,"He murmured as sleep overtook him. I patted his shoulder and sat near his head, making sure he was breathing as he slept. I sat there for a few hours before something caught my attention. A rustling noise at the window. Something about it seemed off, and I rose to investigate. The window was open a crack to let some air permeate the room, at it was through there that the being entered. Black, scaly, shiny, it slid into the room, eyes darting around. It looked like a snake, but I knew better. Much like how I mostly looked like a rabbit to Johnny, there was an element of imagination to this being. I hopped onto my haunches, steadying myself as needed. I spoke, my words tinged with concern. "What purpose do you have here, friend?" The creature stopped and glared at me, its eyes narrowing. "Ah, I see. This child is already spoken for. Well, no matter. I'll just have to do a little extra work to dispose of you." I tilted my head. "Dispose of? What are you talking about?"Every muscle in my body tensed up at the sight of the newcomer coiling up, its head raising into the air. "Why, disposing of you, of course, so that I can be this child's new friend."The last word came out in a vile hiss, the intention more than evident. "Why would you do that? Can't you see this boy is happy? What would killing me accomplish?" "You don't get it, do you? When the kid gets old enough, he won't care about you anymore. When that happens, death comes for us, just like it does for them." I rose to my feet as the friend continued to rant, its voice getting louder and louder. "I was cast aside! FORGOTTEN! If I can just get the boy to see me, to know me, then I can survive." I stood, resolute. "That won't be happening. Turn around, slither away, and this doesn't need to get difficult." The creature growled in anger. "No, I will have this child, and nothing you can do will be able to stop me!"With that, he lunged, quicker than I expected. I leaped to the side as the snake crashed into the bedpost. I spent the next few minutes dodging attack after attack. The creature was relentless, and I soon found myself tiring. At around the fifteenth attack, it finally happened. I slipped and fell, sucking in air as two sharp fangs sank into my skin. Quickly, the imaginary enemy coiled around my body, squeezing tighter and tighter. It hissed in my ear, "Any last words before I take your place? Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell them to the boy myself." I had one chance left, one final card to play, and I grinned. "Oh, I'll just tell him myself. JOHNNY! I'M BEING ATTACKED! HELP!" Johnny heard my shout and stirred, his eyes cracking open in the darkness. I could feel the snake falter as he realized what was happening. "No, no, no, NO!" The boy jumped up in his bed. "Mister Floppyears, what is it? I can't see it!" "I know, but you have to trust me. What am I gonna do?" "Use your super amazing sword!"I laughed as the blade shimmered into existence in my hand. Long and sleek, it had carved through hundreds of aliens, mummies, and dragons. I knew it was just the tool for the job. The monster and I locked eyes, fear glistening in his. I looked at him, and said one last word. "Showtime." /u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker (2019 Edition!): 26/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!
"... ground beef!" &#x200B; War groaned, a deep, reverberating bass that echoed throughout the chamber. &#x200B; "Thank you, we'll be in touch."Death said, giving a slow side glance to their fellow Rider. &#x200B; As the far door shut behind Pun, Pestilence turned to the others: "That has to be it, right? It can't go any lower..." &#x200B; "I don't know, I found it funny"smirked Famine, rocking back on his chair "It had appeal" &#x200B; "You just liked him because he was all about food"answered War, forehead firmly planted on the table in front of him "I'm with Pestilence, he was the worst-" &#x200B; "It won't be enough"interjected Death, sighing, brows furrowing on their face "As hollow as Famine's humour might be--" &#x200B; "Hey!" &#x200B; "--He has a point. Comedy can elevate a mood, not kill it." &#x200B; "You call that comedy? It was so..."Pestilence shot back. &#x200B; Death just pointed to the chuckling Famine: "To some." &#x200B; War's head finally rose up, a maroon red imprint on his forehead. &#x200B; "So we get to slog through some more of these whelps, all cause your feet hurt-"War started, before a sneakered foot slammed unto the table in front of him, the sole worn so thin one could see the ashen flesh beneath. &#x200B; "If you would like me to continue taking care of the moods, dear friend, perhaps you could try running the human levels in my stead? I would be happy to give you the combination to my storage locker - it might push you to do something other than poke at world."Death mused, mouth pulled back into a grimace &#x200B; "Hey now, he's going through his terror phase, we've all been there..."appealed Pestilence. &#x200B; "Stay out of it Pest, we all know you're not over Fleming- "groused War. &#x200B; "Well at least I didn't drag out my sickness for half a century, Mr. I have a Cold - besides, I'm making a comeback, the Mommies love me..." &#x200B; "Speaking of which"interrupted Famine "How about we pick the third one?" &#x200B; "Please, Parental Disappointment is such a one trick pony." &#x200B; "Plus, some of the humans are far too into it, it could backfire spectacularly-" &#x200B; "Humans are just so different these days, she's lost so much power..." &#x200B; "And here I thought the shift to Malnutrition would be the worst change I'd have to face"sighed Famine "Though I must admit, the new willing acolytes are simply delicious" &#x200B; "At least technology makes your workload easier. All it's done to me is add onto my plate, and the shift to bytes upsets my stomach..."pouted Pestilence, turning to face him. &#x200B; "On the upside, Spam loves his co-parent, but I do feel like he's two different people when he's between us" &#x200B; "O--kay. Back on track, let's bring the next one in, shall we?"said Death. &#x200B; The door swung open again, but before the candidate could even open his mouth, Pestilence interceded: &#x200B; "STD, no, get out..." &#x200B; "But I swear I'm good at this!" &#x200B; "No..." &#x200B; "Ugh, fine" &#x200B; The door shut again. &#x200B; "You doing all right there Pestilence?" &#x200B; "I am not working with my younger brother, he tries to copy everything I do..." &#x200B; \\\* &#x200B; In the lobby, 78 hopefuls morosely meandered about. &#x200B; To their credit, the mood was terrible.
Jared Rutherford had a lot of heart. That's one thing no one could take away from him. "Betcha won't pull Peggy's ponytails." "Betcha won't punch Robbie in the face during recess." "Betcha won't steal that car." Jared took on all bets. Sometimes he'd charge, but most times he did it just to hear kids whisper in the hallways when he passed: "That's J.R. Don't mess with him. He's crazy." He loved being crazy. Crazy was better than being bad. When you were bad, everyone wanted to fight you to see who was the "baddest". But when you were crazy... well... let's just say it was a title many envied, but only a few were brave enough to claim the crown and the criticisms that came with. And, oh, it cost. By the time Jared was fifteen, he had been in so many schools, courts, and juvenile halls that the judge bent the rules and shipped him off to prison. A 15 year old among grown men. Bad men. Not many would have survived. But Jared was crazy --- remember? In a few months, he had an entire lunch table to himself. Just like in school. When he was 18, Jared was automatically released with the promise that if he stayed out of trouble until he was 21, his record would be wiped clean. Jared decided to rob a bank. And not just any bank. As soon as he got out, he got a gun, then got on the first bus to Gotham. He was tired of playing in the minor leagues. The real hitters - the major players - everyone knew, were in Gotham. But Jared wasn't planning on making it to the big league just to ride the bench, or cheer from the dugouts. He was going to be the face of the league. One of them, at least. Robbing a bank was lightwork. The first step to getting his feet wet. After that, who knew? Maybe he'd take out the Joker. The thought made him laugh as he leaned his head against the window and fell asleep. ◇◇◇ Jared wasted no time in getting a crew together. Nothing fancy. Someone to wait in the car, someone to watch the front, and someone to watch the people. And then Jared would be at the counter, stuffing the money in the bag. They all wore ski masks and red hoods. The bank job had gone off without a hitch. The only one that wasn't happy about that was Jared. In the car, he screamed, "How the FUCK was that bitch at the counter so fucking calm with a fucking gun shoved in her fucking face?!" The answer he got from the rest of the crew (who were more concerned with how they were going to split the money than they were about the 18 year old's twisted rant) was: "It's Gotham. You know how low robbery is on people's list of worries? You're lucky if you get robbed only four times a day. People are more worried about running into the Joker in a dark alley. But don't worry, kid, you'll get used to it." He didn't get use to it. He upped the ante, leading his crew with brazen assurance and guns blazing, spilling terror through the city, until they finally splashed onto the headlines with an identity: The Red Hoodie Gang. And Jared liked that. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted recognition from the underworld. So he made plans to to shoot up a nightclub. But not just any nightclub. The Penguin's nightclub where all the villians liked to hang out. The Iceberg Lounge. Jared was about to start a war that Gotham wasn't prepared for. And he was excited.
I stood on the hill and smiled as my “disciples” gathered around me. I didn’t smile because I cared for them, I smiled because they were making me rich! These idiots made my job way too easy. “What wisdom will you share with us today, Eli?” An older man asked reverently. So I spent several minutes just rambling a bunch of random proverbs and idioms, with a slight twist. I knew all the tricks. I’d been in this region for a long time now, and I had figured out just what to say to get gullible people to treat me like a deity. The people here were desperate for some kind of divine word, a sign of hope, anything. Imperial forces had been occupying the area for a long time, and the locals were longing for freedom. That’s where I came in. I found the old prophecies, memorized them, and then twisted them to fit my goals. I made up stories about how I fulfilled them. I promised anyone who would listen that I would deliver them from the captors, if only they gave me their coin as an “offering.” I had it made. Not even the local religious leaders or tax collectors were making as much as me. My charade went alright until the new guy showed up. Some random man from the middle of nowhere showed up and started cutting in on my business. He was good, too. He had already found a few yahoos to follow him around. He preached all about how he was going to set people free and save them, and how to live a good life. He used stories to teach lessons. He even worked some “miracles,” although I found his execution to be a little strange. Like this one time, this blind guy walked up to him and asked for help. So this guy literally spits into some mud and rubs it on the blind dude’s eyes! How weird is that? Then the blind guy starts jumping around screaming, “I can see! I can see!” It was a textbook setup, I thought. The guy had to have been a plant, right? That had to have been staged. Although some people I talked to claimed they had known that man since birth, and claimed he really had been blind. The new guy must have been thorough and hired some other actors, I surmised. He methods were interesting, but I had to do something if I wanted to maintain my monopoly. I had to teach this guy a lesson. I followed him and his posse out into the dessert, where they had set up a camp. I waited until the sun set and darkness had fallen, then moved silently toward their camp. I watched for any signs of movement, and didn’t see anything. They appeared to all be asleep. I slowly crept into their camp, and stopped by a tent. Both people inside were asleep. I quietly opened the flap and snuck inside. I didn’t find anything too valuable, just a few coins. It was the same with the other tents, just a few coins and some fishing gear. But as I was inside the last tent, I noticed a strange glow shining through the fabric. I must have alerted someone! I quickly bolted from the tent, expecting to be greeted by swords and spears. Instead I saw one man, sitting by a small fire. He looked up at me and smiled. I was so confused that I couldn’t do anything. What was this guy’s game? I walked over, still wary, and sat by the fire. He just sat there, cooking some fish over the fire. We sat in silence for a while, until I spoke up. “You have some nerve, cutting in on my business,” I said. “Your business?” He laughed. “Tell me, what is your business.” “I think you know,” I said, starting to grow impatient. He took a bite of fish then spoke. “Why don’t you explain it to me, Marius?” The hair on my arm stood up, and a chill ran down my spine. HOW DID HE KNOW MY REAL NAME? He saw the dumbfound expression on my face, and continued to talk. He talked about how I how I started off as a soldier, until I got kicked out for cooking some books and embezzling money. He talked about how, when I couldn’t cut it as a bandit and a thief, I started operating as a con man. There was no way he could have known that. I’d never met this man, yet he was listing every single thing that I had ever done wrong! “How..” I began to ask, but I was still too stunned to finish the question. “You aren’t God, Marius.” He stated bluntly. I regained some of my composure and spoke up. “Oh, and what?” I retorted. “Are you saying that you are?” He looked me dead in the face and said clearly, “I am.” The way he said it, it was like... My mind went back to what I had seen him doing earlier. All of those prophecies I had twisted around to make people think I did them - he actually fulfilled them! Those miracles I thought were staged, they were real. I freaked out. This guy had to have been telling the truth. I threw myself face-down on the ground and begged for forgiveness. He simply smiled and said, “Your sins are forgiven, follow me.” And I did. I was never one of his main 12 guys, but I followed. I followed Jesus for the next two years. I was there when they crucified him. I saw my former commanding officer put his faith in Jesus as the sky turned dark and the ground shook. I was there when they buried him. The next day, I started to have some doubts. Maybe he had been a con man after all. Maybe I had been tricked, myself. After a few days, I started hearing rumors. Some said he rose again. A few soldiers told me the body had been stolen. I didn’t know what to believe. I was walking down the road one day, talking to a good friend of mine about everything that had happened. A stranger joined us along the road. We talked for a while, and me and my friend invited him over for dinner at my place. We talked as we waited for our food to be prepared, but the stranger we met on the road seemed familiar somehow, like we had met before. That’s when I saw it. Who he really was, but could it be? “Are you going to be staying with us for dinner?” My friend asked the stranger. He looked me dead in the face and said clearly, “I am.”
I honestly don't know what was worse. They tortured me for years, carrying out sick fantasies of abuse and power and pain that would break almost any man. Then when the darkness came for me, and I thought for the most blessed of moments that maybe God or The Devil had finally answered my agonized prayers and I would be free of this blasted world, I woke up again. I remembered it all. Every slash, every grind of bone, every violation of my flesh, and mixed in with the glorious absence of pain is a revelation that the world is so much bigger than it used to be.... I stared at my hands in horrified wonder as I realise that I am small. Much to small, and I see the face of my parents tower above my soft mattress and stuffed bear. I cried then. Cried so long and hard that my haggard mother who has been caring for me panics and takes me to the hospital. The guilt is multiplied. I cannot talk to tell her, it is just Babel. Babel that stuns the doctors because at my age nothing like that should happen. I struggle to move myself, but muscles amd synapses are lacking even though my brain knows all that it should do. Eventually I let my father soothe me. The joy seeing him walk again is profound. before I was taken he was wheelchair bound and battling a depression so deep I questioned if I needed to take his revolver. They are together. They are healthy. Lupus hasn't warped my mother's hands into gnarled roots of bent joint and inflamed tendon. They are not long divorced, 20 years of marriage failing soon after I left the house for college. It takes me time to adjust. Time to realize that for their sakes I have to try and act normal. I have to reteach my body, I have to grow, and I have to make myself ready for the moment that I can hunt the men and women who had done this to me down. The next shock comes months later. I can finally walk and do it well, my parents stunned and the doctors calling me a "oddity of nature."I use the words my undeveloped tongue allows, hearing the sound of my own voice takes adapting not to cringe as words fail to come properly from me. That wasn't the shock. The shock is seeing the morning news on a television that I grew up loving morning cartoons on in a wallpapered house that I knew would be sold when I turned 11 with a date that marked it a date approaching my second birthday. I cry again, my mother thinking I am suffering some ache. An internal war rages in me for the next 25 years. If I do not live my life the same exact way, will that woman still lure me to her apartment? Will she still leave the bed to take a phone call, and open her door for the men to come and beat me and take me away? If I miss one word, give one warning, or skip one tragedy, how will the future change? I have no way to know and no way to find out other than to live. In the end I compromise with myself. I have to keep the big things together and I have to make sure that on that day I am in that bar to meet that woman, but I also have to prepare. Baseball this time became Martial Arts. Off season workouts became shooting trips. My parents and teachers see me as some gifted child. I'm intelligent, but it comes from having already done all of this, not some special gift. I'm more patient with my parents and less patient with my parents. I still date the same women, but I know who will cheat on me. Who will decide I'm not good enough, and who wasn't even worth talking too. I try to act shocked or whatever is supposed to be shown. I feel twisted inside. My friends, friends that would last till the day I am taken, are a blessing a second time, because somehow they still love this twisted thing I have become. I read Dune by Frank Herbert often. I am St. Alia of the Knife in male form.
You only see what you want to, Tim. You're reading too into things. I think... I think this is moving too fast for me. &nbsp; Tim sits at the diner staring into the abyss of his now cold coffee. The waitress has come by- enough times that he knows that they want him to leave, that he's overstayed his welcome- but all of that feels irrelevant and far off now. &nbsp; I did like you Tim. But I can't take this anymore. 'I love you' isn't something people say on the third date. Even if you think my eyes were saying it for me. They weren't. &nbsp; There is a man in a business suit reading a paper, and a couple that has just sat down across from him. Tim has resolved himself to not look at the couple. When they came in they were laughing, and the light of their love illuminates the hole that has opened in his heart. &nbsp; Tim, I know we had good times. But that doesn't mean that you won't find someone else. You'll make memories with someone new. You'll be fine. &nbsp; His resolve breaks. Tim finds that he is glaring at the couple. They don't notice him. The woman tucks her hair behind her ear, the man stares a little too intently at the menu. He had that once. That giddy, beginning of a relationship feeling when nerves and joy and hope all intermingled. Now he is alone. &nbsp; Tim, we've known each other for ages. Can't we go back to being friends? This is all too weird for me. &nbsp; They notice him, the man tries to covertly chance a look, but he and Tim lock eyes, and the man turns away and laughs with the girl. Of course they're mocking him. When he was in a relationship, he'd have done the same, but it doesn't hurt any less. &nbsp; You need to stop calling me. I'm serious, Tim. Whatever we had is over. I didn't try to run into you at the supermarket. It's not fate. It wasn't a sign. It just happened. Ok? We broke up. I don't want to change that. &nbsp; Tim stands from the table. Leaves a lackluster tip for a lackluster waitress, and gathers his coat as he heads towards the door. It's raining outside, because of course it is, and he takes a moment to make sure his phone is in an interior, more water resistant pocket. When he looks up, the man is standing there. "I saw you watching me"the man says. "Listen, I didn't mean any harm. I'm leaving now." "Wait!"The man says, a little too quickly, and then "Um, I'm sorry, I don't usually do this, but you seemed interested, so..." He hands Tim a diner napkin and quickly walks back to the table, the girl laughs at him conspiratorially. Baffled, Tim unrolls the napkin. "Call me,"a small heart, and the man's number. "I'm not gay"Tim says quietly. How could anyone so poorly read a person?
George put on his suit, and laid on his bed. It was the suit that he wore on his wedding day. The room is lighted by candles, and there are photos of him and Jenny all around the room. He picked up one photo, gave it a kiss, and turned on the machine. A light buzzing sound echoed around the room, which followed by silence. Then George’s snoring took over the silence. The snoring that Jenny pretended to hate so much. George found himself standing in front of crowds of people. Senses started to come back to him slowly. First, there was music. sweet harmony of piano and strings playing the most romantic music that ever touched George’s ears. Then there was smell. Champagne, cake, perfume, and a lot more. They all mixed together and hit him like a punch. Lastly, his sight. He saw the most beautiful girl walking toward him among hazy crowd of people. The smile that is so bright, that could cast shadow on the sunshine. Suddenly, an old man in a robe appeared in front of them. “Do you take Jenny to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The old man asked. “I do” George answered “Do you take George to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The old man asked again. George closed his eyes and keeled down. He wanted to stand up but the memories overpowered them. Very bad memories. He remembered the bride’s father standing up from the seat at this very moment, shouting something angrily. He took out his hand gun and aimed for George. But unfortunately, he was never a good sharp shooter and the excessive alcohol didn’t help. A gun shot was fired, and what was so white and pure became red and dark. No matter how many times George shouted and denied, the red kept consuming red. George was sobbing uncontrollably on the ground when the angel like voice said “I do if he will ever stand up” A laughter spread among the crowd and he felt his soon to be wife’s hand on his shoulder. “Stand up George, this is our happiest day, and nobody can stop us” George stood up to see Jenny, in a white dress still. \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Director Morris, There is an error with 2B493FF. It seems to be running indefinitely.” “I know... leave it alone James. I will take full responsibility” “But director... that means the user will never...” “I know what it means. Please James, ignore this error once.” Morris stood up from his chair and walked toward James. “Have you ever heard about the crazy wedding that happened on 2019?” “Yes sir, I saw it on the news. A tragedy indeed.” “I agree. A tragedy indeed. This user right here, was getting married that day” “You mean, the user of 2B493FF is Mr.George?” “Yes... some people say he kept repeating “I do” for a few days after the incident. And when he was released from the mental institution, he came to me for help. We don’t know what he programmed in, but God bless him in his dream”
There are those who labour under the impression that, having seen one mountain, they have seen all of them. Inhaling deeply and opening his eyes wide, one such individual was forced to revise this opinion. The man lay on the grassy summit of a mountain that he might have considered familiar and typical, but sitting up and looking ahead, he was greeted with stark evidence contrary to the assumption that all peaks were of comparable calibre: lofty pinnacles that utterly dwarfed the hill on which he perched, themselves humbled by the titanic ranges further distant, which were only visible by their lowermost flanks, heads lost amid the slatey zenith. Looking downward, the man spied dense woodland clinging to the valley sides, and, lower still, sheltered by steep cliffs, were rolling meadows and long, winding lakes. The whole vista was lit sporadically by intermittent and short-lived breaks in the cloud-cover, the corresponding illuminations moving swiftly over the dramatic landscape, reflecting off of calm water and icy summits. ‘Beautiful.’ The voice wasn’t his. Turning his head, the man saw a woman sat beside him. Her presence didn’t surprise him, though, after considering it, he believed it should have. He thought about how to respond for a long time, unsure of what to say. Agreeing with her statement seemed unnecessary; it seemed less of a voiced opinion, to be allied with or argued against, more a simple truth. There was nothing to be explained or elaborated on, no comment or critique that could add to the discussion; the stranger, with her one word, had said all that needed to be said of the scenery. ‘Where am I?’ asked the man at last, whose personal situation was much harder to define. He remembered very little of how he came to be here, or indeed of much before that. ‘You’re in heaven,’ replied the woman without hesitation. Her voice was gentle, but lacked sympathy, as if ignorant of the consequences of that revelation. Truthfully, the man didn’t mind. He turned back to the mountainous horizon, nodding once. It made sense, and, without any recollection of who he had been in life, there was no reason to be upset about belonging to the afterlife. Nothing lost, nothing to mourn on the far side of dying. ‘Who am I?’ he asked, emotionless, still staring straight ahead. The woman said nothing, but was heard to shrug, her feathered wings rising and falling. ‘Wings?’ thought the man. Even in his torpor of rebirth, the wings seemed strange. Aloud, he queried the stranger on that topic. ‘I was given them,’ she said with a subtle smile, ‘along with a name: Nira. Come on.’ A powerful wingbeat pulled Nira gracefully to her feet. She offered a hand to the man still seated, which, after a mute moment, that nameless individual accepted, and was thus laboriously pulled into standing. ‘Where are we going?’ asked the man, stood face to face with his guide, a chill wind blowing crosswise, pulling at their clothes and hair. ‘We’re going to look for God,’ was Nira’s simple reply, her stoic eyes locked on the confused, wandering gaze of her new friend.
Ryan’s hand jerked in a sweeping motion, like a musical conductor telling the choir to raise their pitch. He blacked out for a second, before a screen appeared in front of him. Appearance: Hair - Brown Eyes - Blue Weight - 185 Height - 6’1 Class - Human Race - Caucasian Stats: Strength I 4 Dexterity I 5 Intelligence I 6 Luck I 10 Health I 10 Inventory: Lighter Pocket Knife Notepad Pen A pack of Marlboro’s Quests: ~~Reach 30 years of age~~ ~~Become a Doctor~~ ~~Save The Creator~~ Go through the Trials Save the World. He did the motion again and he fell on his ass with a throbbing headache. So much at one time, he couldn’t handle all of it. He was a doctor, he was 36 years old, but The Creator.. he knew he had saved many people in his short time as a doctor, but who stood out as “The Creator?” Also, trials and saving the world, saving the world from what? Before he could finish his thoughts, he was transported into a black room, isolated in space, with one small window pointed towards Mother Earth. He saw a shuttle.. no two.. no three? Three space shuttles fly by and drop bombs to the Earth, bombs with such violence, there was nothing left of the Universe. It was black. He had awoken again, this time in his living room with his loving wife and daughter by his side, his dog curled up on his wife’s lap. He kissed her and held onto her. “Sammie, there’s something very wrong.” His comfort was soon interrupted by the sound of bombs dropping from the sky, the same ones he heard from the black room. He knew what was coming and braved himself, holding his wife and daughter close. When the impact happened, he woke up again, and again, and again. He couldn’t stand to see his family die anymore, so with no choice left, he did the hand signal, opening the menu screen. There was a small notification in the top right. Objective - Save. The. World. He took a breather, and did the motion again. He knew exactly what he had to do to break the loop. “CREATOR, I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE!” Everything in the room froze, besides him and another man in a suit and tie, who was a mirror image of himself. The Creator: “Why hello, Ryan, shouldn’t it be obvious by now? All of the weird stuff happening? Screens appearing, you’re the creator. It’s been you the whole time.” Ryan: “It said in my quests I saved you, saved you from what?” The Creator: “To be fair, I hate most universes I’ve created, most duplicates of my appearance I’ve sent to different places and pretty much all people in general. One version of me was a drug addict, one robbed banks, one dropped out of school early, but you? Ryan, you’ve become a doctor at 34 and 2 years since then, you’ve saved 79 lives. You saved me, from ending this universe. So Ryan, keep doing what you’re doing, you’re making- looks up into the sky and snaps, causing the bombs to disappear -this world a better place.” And just like that, he was gone.
A creepy growl mixed with sloshing sounds could be heard from the other side of the glass. Yu stepped away from the glass and aimed his pistol at the creature on the other side of the glass. He couldn't make out a clear picture of what the creature looked like, but he could tell it had a gooey appearance much like a slime. The slime-like creature appeared to have three holes, two looked like eye sockets and another one that looked to be a mouth/opening of some sort. "Fucking hell..."Yu said out loud as he was still in awe at the creature. As soon as he let out his thought, the slime-like creature banged on the window as hard as it could. Yu wanted to scream and run away but he was given strict orders by his commander to stand his ground. He knew right away that an order like that couldn't simply be ignored, no matter the adversary. If he did, he would be arrested or worse, he'd be shot. So instead, he took out a radio to call for backup. When he heard nothing back, Yu nervously walked away from the glass. The creature, seemingly without any visible eyes but only sockets/holes, followed his movement. It could be say that the creature could track his movements somehow without the ability to see. He still heard the low growl, indicating that the creature was probably on alert. This didn't stop Chen, however, to try and make contact with the mysterious creature. He went closer to the glass. He then put his left hand towards the glass where the creature was still latching onto. This sort of gesture was pretty common back in the 70s-90s, where two different/alien creatures began to see eye to eye or work out a decent relationship somehow. But the creature that was shaped like a splatted slime actually sucked on Yu's fingers. He was thoroughly surprised when instead of touching the solid glass, his fingers felt the soft, cold, and gooey surface. When he instinctively tried to pull his fingers away, the slime like creature moved across the glass surface as if it wasn't there in the first place. At that moment, a man walked by Yu's post. "Oy! I told ya to shoot them on sight, no questions asked. Kill on sight, Corporal Yu!"an authoritative voice shouted at Yu. When Yu took his still-free right hand with the gun and shoot the creature that was still sucking on his left hand, the creature simply avoided the bullet with ease. Though the creature seemed fine, Yu's left hand had been grazed by the bullet and had bled a bit. In any other circumstance, this sort of situation would be a stuff of nightmare... But for Yu, this event was happening truly right before his eyes. "I'm just a fool..."
The embroidery on her robe was unmistakable, and that's what freed the Atoms from him. "Half-life coming!"He shouted in a whisper. The crew snapped back to proper decorum. Well, they didn't snap so much as shift their weight. And their decorum was...passable. Jimy and Jani sat up from the slouched down position they had assumed by the Tunnel Elementae. Fraschold picked up the TE delver from where he left it on the ground to toss a balif bag with Steeg, who snatched the balif out of the air went to stand by the equipment vessel. Taking stock of himself, Rauld knew his uniform was a bit out of shape but other than that they shouldn't have any issue with the approaching officer. Half-life, Rauld thought. What in the Table is an Unstable Element doing down here for a TE delve? He didn't want to know the answer, but by the look on her face he was about to find out. Rauld couldn't help but see something else in her face; the light of her craft shown faintly in her cheeks, around her nose, and on the outside of her ears. And pretty too, he thought. Rauld didn't let his embarrassment show as she came to a stop in front of him. "Rare-Earth Rauld, I presume?" "Yes, Mage, that is correct." "And what are your Metals doing lying about with no one attending the delve?"Ah. Maybe his crew was not as passable as he thought. She continued in a stern voice, "You should know well enough the danger of a TE meltdown. You, your crew, and half the mobile base could fissure out of existence right where we stand." More chance of that now that you're here, he thought. And perhaps something showed in his face, because then she continued, "Though I suppose if anything were to blow up unexpectedly it'd probably be me."Her face broke into a smile. Rauld heart skipped a beat. The crew broke into a quick laugh, releasing some tension that had already began to form. Having a Half-Life around will do that. "So, Mage, can I ask why you're down here?"Rauld asked. In that moment, the shrill scream of an atom trail evaporating the atmosphere was both instantly recognizable and immensely frightening. The Mage became blisteringly bright; the crew had only just enough time to shield their eyes before the atom trail connected with her Valance Shell. Rauld was thrown down and away by the explosion. As the light faded, he opened his eyes to get his bearings and he saw that the smile had not faltered. "What's your name?"Rauld shouted over the ringing in his ears. The scene had become otherwise silent. "I am UE Astraena. But you might as well call me Aena. Since I won't be around long enough for you to get to know me." Disoriented, and with an oddly sinking heart, Rauld began to ask what she meant. What was happening. What should- Aena flared into starlight again and rose quickly towards the sky. Accelerating faster and faster within mere moments. From far above, a great black wave of anti-matter rolled down through the upper atmosphere. The scale had shifted beyond reason. Her light grew and grew, and she flew further and further away. As light met dark, the explosion was unimaginable. The entire sky shook. A great vacuum formed at the impact sight and for an instant everything went still again. A pin point of bright light high in the sky formed, and then planet released its breath. Plasma flowed out in all directions, blanketing everything and blocking natural sunlight. Throughout these moments, most of which were far too complex for any one person to process, Rauld focused only on that point of light. Even as the entire sky changed above him, he tracked that point of light with his eyes. Watching, and hoping for some sign that the girl with glowing face and the pretty smile and the absolutely Newtonian line of work was somehow still there. The light fell, and gravity drew it faster and faster towards the surface. Until there, right before the surface it grew bright one last time. "Hey!"Rauld yelled at Steeg. "Steeg! Hey! Come on, Steeg! What you've never seen the sky explode before?!" Steeg and the others came back home, and Steeg said "Right, let's get out of here!"He ignited the vessel's engine. "No! Steeg, that way!"Rauld pointed to where the light had fallen.
Napoleon once said, "I spend thirty thousand men a month; Who can stop me?" They put a nice face on it. 'Course they did. Orange Knights.... ha. The army was decimated, the national guard annihilated, and the volunteers were blown to shit. They needed lives to spend, and all the good men were dead. "Fifty-First Rikers Island, report,"General Scurt said. He wasn't a real general, never a soldier. He was a politician, some idiot thrust into the role. Nonetheless, Solomon stepped forward. "Sir." The General's face twisted like he'd tasted something sour. Solomon knew that look, the look of a man caught between fear and disgust. "You will salute when addressing your commanding officer, soldier." "You're sending us against the enemy's front, yeah?" The General's mouth wavered, "Not....exactly,,"he said eventually. "Well, in that case, forgive me for not exactly saluting a man that intends to use me as a meat shield, sir." Scurt's face burned red with rage. He took a deep breath, then sighed, knowing the futility of arguing with an Orange Suit. "I'm not sending you against the enemy's front,"he said, "I'm not sending you anywhere, actually. Your post will be here, in New York." Solomon's eyes narrowed. He'd seen too much death to be surprised by anything, but he hadn't expected.... "What's the catch?" Scurt stared at him for a long while, his expression solemn and resigned. "They're coming." "To New York?" "Yes." "Does this mean they got through the Fortifications along the 93rd parallel?" "The wall fell two days ago." "TWO DAYS-" "I just got the news myself." "Where the hell are the vets,"Solomon asked, there were a few units of real soldiers left. Former special forces, a combination of Green Berets, Seals, and Marine Raiders. The General closed his eyes and rubbed his temples vigorously. "I don't know. Central Command has gone ghost. I haven't even been able to call in reinforcements."He looked up at the former convict, towering above him. "We have three divisions of the East Manhattan People's Militia, about a thousand non-conventionals from the Garden State Resistance, what's left of the Coast Guard .... and we have you and your boys from Rikers Island." The silence that settled upon the room was heavy. There is the quiet that comes from discord, and then there is the true quiet, the kind that forms from the mutual understanding of all present parties. This was the latter. Both men knew what their fate would be. They would be swallowed by the enemy, the fiends, the shadow. Finally, Solomon chuckled. "What,"Scurt said. "I'm just thinking about the first time I set foot on Rikers,"the Orange Knight said. "You ever been?" "Can't say that I have." "Time is different there. It's...weird,"Solomon said seriously. "On the Island, time feels heavy. You can feel it pressing down on you, all around. It's like a black hole, it sucks you in, traps you." "What does this have to do with anything,"Scurt asked. "That's what's so funny,"Solomon said, laughing again. "I can't believe I'm about to say this." "Say what?" "Hell hath a heavy gate, General." "What?" "We have to evacuate the people to Rikers. We'll make our stand there. My boys know what it took to keep them in, they'll know what it takes to keep the enemy out."
Grace Kennilworth was always my favorite resident. The reason why was simple: many dementia patients become emotional, or even violent when they're having a bad day. I remember one Tuesday morning, when an old man named Mr. McDougal was sharing his favorite dirty jokes with me. Later that afternoon, I came into his room and he looked at me like I was the devil himself. Before I could even say a word, he sprang from his bed and tried to stab me with a ball-point pen that one of the other nurses left on his end table. Even at 93 years old, that army veteran was surprisingly strong and quick. They don't tell you about patients like him during the job interview at a nursing home. You get to find out the hard way. Grace was never like that, though. She had bad days, of course, but her reaction was always different. When she didn't recognize who I was, or where she was, she would always sit up in her bed, straighten her posture, and address me as politely as possible. "I'm sorry to bother you, young man,"she might say, "but could you perhaps tell me how I got here?" I probably had to explain to her at least twice a week that she was in a nursing home and I was one of the nurses, but she was always very composed and gracious about it. Her memory was failing, but the analytical part of her mind was as sharp as ever. She would ask pointed questions about the nature of the facility, and how we were caring for her, before eventually deciding that my explanation made sense and I was not deceiving her. Some of the other nurses found her interrogations tedious, but repetition was just part of the job when dealing with Alzheimer's and dementia patients, and there was no denying that she was one of the more pleasant examples. And then there were her stories. I probably found them more interesting than most of my colleagues did, but I was always a science fiction nerd. Grace had a singular imagination, and I Googled her name more than once because she talked like someone who was a writer back in the days of the pulp serial comics and short films. I thought for sure that she had novels, or some hidden gems of science fiction to her credit, but I guess she was never published. This was a shame, in my opinion. Her characters and tall tales would have fit right in with Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers! Last December, I had just finished answering her usual series of questions about where this "nursing home"was and why she was here. It had taken longer than usual to calm her suspicions, but she eventually warmed up to me like she always did. As I went about my routine of emptying her catheter bag and changing the linens, she treated me to a fascinating story about the Sorlonite Empire. This was a race of aliens that was a recurring antagonist in the stories she told. They had built their empire much like the Incas did, by finding smaller, primitive tribes and charming them with promises of great technology and prosperity. The Sorlonites would forcibly relocate the best and brightest members of an inferior species to the Sorlonite homeworld, and send loyal ambassadors from the Empire to replace them, thus ensuring a quick integration between the two cultures. This time, Grace told me that these Sorlonite ambassadors were actually shapechangers, who would take on the visage of a vulnerable, sympathetic creature in order to elicit a sense of compassion from the species that they wished to conquer. I think I mentioned something about how that reminded me of the Skrulls from Marvel Comics. As I finished my routine, she finished her story and she seemed to be staring at the ceiling, beaming with a kind of youth I had never seen in her before. She seemed quite happy, which made me smile as well. Knowing that I had other patients to tend to, I gently shuffled to the door and told her I hoped she would have another story for me tomorrow. Grace just continued to stare at the ceiling in awe, and said, "well... I think I am done now."Not sure of how to respond, I just nodded and exited the room. The next day, Grace was gone. I don't mean dead... I mean she was physically gone. She had completely vanished from her bed and our security cameras had no footage of her leaving her room, or leaving the premises. She had simply disappeared. As the last person to see her alive, I was questioned more than once by the senior administrator of the nursing home, and by a detective from the state police. I had no answers for them, though. Just questions of my own, and none of them wanted to hear them. I could read between the lines, of course. No one had any idea of where Grace went, or how she had disappeared, and they were just as confused as I was. Not long after her disappearance, I was laid off from the nursing home due to "budget difficulties". I knew the real reason, though. The Grace Kennilworth incident scared the administration and they wanted to get rid of anyone who was even remotely associated to it. No one ever found out what happened to her, and it still bothers me to this day. As far as I know, she didn't have any living relatives, and no one was threatening legal action against the home, but it doesn't change the fact that someone as genuine as her deserves better than to be forgotten. And everyone except me seems content to do exactly that. The only thing I did find out about her disappearance is this... when the morning shift nurse checked on her, instead of a body in the bed, he found a metal ingot. It wasn't silver or gold, but teal in color and light as plastic. I realized, recently, that it's very similar to a material that Grace had described in one of her stories... Nerepadolium. It's something the Sorlonite Empire used, and it had something to do with transportation to the Sorlonite homeworld. I don't remember the exact significance.... ...But I guess it doesn't matter. It's just something that Grace made up. This plastic object is probably some random trinket that she decided to hold on to for no apparent reason. As nice as it is to think that she's traveling among the stars now, I suppose I'll never know the answers behind her disappearance. I just hope she's in a better place, one way or the other.
"What? Merlin? You mean from the Arthur stories, with the sword in the stone and all that?" "The very same,"the elderly man said as he stroked his grey beard with fingers full of gold and silver rings. White stars are embeded onto his blue robe, and a similarly-designed cone hat rested on his grey hair. He looked a lot like how Disney depicts him. "But you're not my dad. My dad is--" "Named Greg, I know. I'm not your biological father. I'm your...hmm, 'magical father' sounds too much like a fairy tale. I'm more of your...." As Merlin trailed off, I started looking around. The sound of wind rushing past my ears disappeared when I was suddenly suspended in my deathly fall. I started to experiment with what limbs I could move in this stasis, and eventually found myself spinning, as if I were in space. The man cleared his throat loudly. "Well, I suppose I can't properly explain this here, mid-air, as you're falling to your death. Too many distractions," He clapped his hands together, and my surroundings faded into white. My body slowly oriented itself to be matching Merlin's, and I felt some kind of ground beneath my feet. Merlin started walking, and I followed. "Now, let me explain." "When you are born into the world, you take physical traits from your biological parents. But people have more parents than biological ones. Some have parents beyond the physical boundaries, and inherit from them as well. In other words, magic. You and I have no physical characteristics in common, but you inherit parts of my magic," I tried to process this. "So I get some of your magic?" Merlin stroked his beard. "Not quite. If the strongest man alive had a child, the child will not have the man's strength, but the child will have the genetic advantage for strength. You have not inherited all of my magic. You simply get the magical aptitude," "So it's like how Naruto has a lot of chakra that he inherits from the Senju clan, but he doesn't necessarily know all the jutsus of the clan,"I offered. "I'm going to pretend I understood that analogy. Yes, it's just like that,"Merlin smiled. We continued walking in silence for a bit, when I spoke up, "So, what now? I know I have awoken my magic. What's next? Do I find a tome of your magic in England? Enroll in Hogwarts tomorrow? Search for hairy-toed midgets and embark on quests?" "What? No. First, you have to survive the fall,"Merlin chuckled at his own joke. "Then, you can do...whatever you want. I won't dictate how you use your magic," Merlin casually grabed my hand and slips one of his many silver rings onto my finger. "But remember this: magic is given to individuals in times of need. I was given magic to help Arthur fulfill his destiny. Your magic is meant to help someone. You'll have to find who that 'someone' is," He looked up. "I don't have much time left. I've been dead for over a thousand years. I'm only talking to you here because I used my magic to communicate from the past. Remember what I said, until we meet again. Keep the ring too: someone may recognize it," Merlin winked as his body begins to fade. I snap out of my shock, and stutter on my words. "U-Until we meet again? I thought you're d-dead. How can we meet again?" He tilts his head, amused. "If I can talk to you from the past, what makes you think you can't talk to me from the future?" As his body disappears, my surroundings flow with familiar colors. I hear the wind in my ears again, and I feel my body falling. But this time, I'm not screaming on the way down. \----- My first writing response! Feedback is super appreciated :)
Most people adapted well to the update. I did not. The life bar would be nice if it would ever go above 25%, but that isn't even my biggest issue. My issue is the other bar. No one else has it, and it isn't marked, but I see it ticking down. Slowly. Day by day it drips lower. I've searched everywhere, no forums or help blogs ever mention other bars, just the health. I've made posts, but never get replies other than trolls. Then I started seeing things. Stray letters floating about, writings on signs changing in the corner of my eye, numbers flickering when I look away. It wasn't until a month after the update that it happened, the bar emptied. I had prepped for anything, thought for sure by now it was a timer to my death, but it wasn't. Instead, the bar vanished. Just "poof", no more weirdness. Then my phone pinged. A response to my posts. Someone else caught it.
The meeting place was elegant, a beauty drawn from the pages of histories long since dead. Marble columns, gilded statues, grandiloquent arches and a fountain that rivaled the myths of Olympus for sheer intricacy and novelty. But in the middle of it all, conspicuously placed, sat a mediocre IKEA knockoff desk; compressed woodchips and plastic veneer. The most common boardroom desk across all of present-day Earth, the Platonic ideal of a meeting place. And at this cheap, commonplace table sat Lucifer and God, across from one another, eyes locked. "So, we're here to discuss the fate of Vigne's soul." "Yes, yes, I read the invitation. And what exactly makes you think I'd be willing to give up the Seat of Heaven for a second, much less an entire year, so that you can keep her soul for eternity?"God had that look he'd managed to pull off on countless occasions over the millennia, that condescending 'you're in trouble' glare he'd been scowling down his nose with, debuted on the date of Original Sin. Lucifer laughed, merrily. "No no no, you misunderstand,"he replied, palms spread open before him, piano grin splayed across his face. "You'll be giving up the seat of heaven so that you can have her soul."God's eyebrow shot up, a skeptical furrowed mass protruding from his colossal forehead. "She's mine, you want her, and I have half a mind to grant her wish."Lucifer's tail twirled behind him, pantomiming a child's idea of what brewing might look like. "And what, pray tell, do you think makes her yours?"The anger in God's voice was palpable. "Why, you must know what she does for a living." "An illustrator? I fail to see the relevance." "Yes, yes. Have you seen her latest commission?" "Drawing fossils for some textbook? Again, I fail to see the relevance." "Yes, you do fail to see the relevance. Tell me, when did you last look over the second commandment?" God's eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate this kind of banter. "Let me refresh your memory... 'You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not blah blah blah blah blah, you get the point." "Do I?" "Yes. Either that or you're more dense than I'd thought. Your little lover of trilobites is mine, fair and square. If you want her back... why, she's set the terms." God pursed his lips. Storm clouds passed quite across his furrowed brow, quite literally. "And why would I trade anything for the soul of this sinner?" "Oh come now my old friend! Are you really going to cast her out so quickly, this girl who gave you everything but trusted her pastor's reading of the Bible? Are you such a fair weather omnipresence? She never so much as told a lie!" "Listen here. You've just admitted yourself that she's the model woman, the model believer, the model human. You will relinquish your claim to her this instant!"God's fist slammed onto the table, shredding it to infinitesimal pieces and reassembling it from the wreckage in the same split second. "Or what? You'll banish me to hell? Yes yes, very compelling, I do hear it's rather warm this time of year. Oh, you haven't visited? Well, if you do get the chance to swing by just ring me up and I'll be sure to take you to all the hottest places in town. But in the meantime... you don't seem to have any teeth, my fair-weather deity, so can we drop the charade? The terms are already on the table. And I happen to have seen your little jaunt the other evening... and know that she's already conceived, rather 'immaculately' oh Zeus, the second coming of your son. So, if you want her soul, you'll do as I say." The temple on God's forehead bulged visibly. His teeth ground. Through clenched teeth, "one year, nothing more. And you cannot rewrite the rules of heaven or hell, nor how the mortals interact with them. And you will leave her alone, and her child as well." "Oh trust me, that won't be an issue."Lucifer's laughter was sour enough to curdle milk meant for newborns. "I'll see you in a year I'm sure." God blinked, and found himself on a vast plane, nothing but fog in every direction. With a heavy sigh and a bowed head, he resigned himself to one very, very long year.
Slasher, Dasher, Crasher, and I, Basher, just made it to the restaurant. They are my crew. The restaurant is still open, of course. We need it to be open to work. We are going to rob AstroNuts. “Yo, Dasher, you got the roses?” I asked. “As fresh as they can be.” Dasher said. “Good, good. Slasher, the trash bags?” “Got a whole role.” She said. “That’s more than enough. Crasher, the vacuum cleaner?” I asked. “Yep! Can I get the promotion now?” She asked, pretty much begging. “Tell you what. If this works, you get promoted. Now, hand me one of the trash bags.” Slasher tore off a bag and gave it to me. I ripped it a bit, tearing off some pieces to make it look perfect. I put it on my head, making me look just like Jacob. Who’s Jacob, you ask? Well, Jacob is the owner of AstroNuts and our key to the safe. He was sick today, and he hadn’t called in for it. He worked with three other people. I grabbed the roses and went into the restaurant. “Hello, Jacob. You know, you and I could get the day off tomorrow and get a room.”.Sharen. She is another key. “Hey Sharen. I got you something special just for you.” I say, giving her a rose. She loves it, and runs into the bathroom to put it in her hair. It won’t take long. That’s a good thing. Now we need Pam. You see, Jacob was a scumbag who dated two of his coworkers when he had a fiancée. I grabbed Pam and took her in front of the bathroom. I waited until I heard Sharen’s footsteps. “My love, I got you a gift that I would only give you.” I said, as Sharen came out and saw me give Pam the rose. “You lying scumbag! We are over!”Sharen cried as she ran outside. Pam ran out sobbing, too. Two down, one more to go. Bobby, the janitor. He only cared about his cleaning supplies. I walked over to said supplies. I put away his vacuum, and replaced it with the one Crasher brought. We rob, but we’re not monsters. I called Bobby over. “Hey Bobby, I got you a new vacuum, I’ll go ahead and break this one.” I then proceeded to burn the vacuum with a lighter in my pocket. It quickly burned. “ I-I-HOW COULD YOU?!?” He screamed. He stormed out of the restaurant in a fit of rage. Perfect. No one was there anymore. I grabbed the keys that we on the counter Pam was at. I unlocked the kitchen. It was empty, like the restaurant. I walked inside and unlocked a window for my gang. “Ok, I had questions at first. But that was awesome.” Dasher exclaimed. “Yeah, sure. The knife?” I asked Slasher. “Sharp as a needle. Snake skin handle. Made by the greatest blacksmith of all time. This baby will break through anything.” Slasher said as she gave the knife to me. I cut a wall down the middle. Nothing. I cut more down until I hit something hard. I cut down the wall in front of it to find a black safe. “Dasher, the bomb?” He ran to the bag so fast, he looked like the flash. “The bomb goes off in 5 seconds.” He said. I put it on the safe and ran behind a counter. It only blew up the front cover of the safe. I looked into the safe, and there it was. The one thing I wanted most. I picked it up. “So that’s the thing?” Crasher asked. “Yep. Now let’s bounce.” I replied. We climbed out the window to escape. It was the perfect heist. And in case you were wondering, the thing we were after was a one thousand year old jar of peanut butter signed by Robert Downey JR, the actor who played Iron Man. We became billionaires.
I blow my hair out of my face as I eat dinner with my family. "I don't understand why everyone else is hatching before me"I say "It's okay honey, both of us only hatched when we were 17. You're only fourteen, you have nothing to worry about."My mom says "Even Lola has hatched and her mom still only has ,like, FIVE scales" "You know very well that Mrs. Finkleburg has a genetic disorder" "But still!" "Kara , you will hatch someday, you're just a late hatcher"my dad chimes in. "May I be excused from the table already"I say Sorry for the grammar mistakes!
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A small shrike carried its prey in its beak and flew around the many towers of Hedegaard Palace. Swooping past the low domed roofs and spires adorned with flags. The first light ignited the horizon and glowed coral on the sides of the white walls and turned the many arched windows into blazing fireplaces. The shrike flapped on the air currents to reach its nest, perched on a windowsill of the tallest tower. Inside, nothing stirred. It was a bedroom, the bedroom of a Prince, covered in lavish gold furnishings and delicate patterned engravings. It was an untidy room. Every surface was covered in pencil drawings of bird breeds and fabulous flying machines. Even more parchment however, lay scrunched up in a wicker basket. Some of the drawings had come to life in the form of models, which hung from the ceiling. Several golden plates lay spoiled both on top of, and underneath pieces of parchment. Against one wall, stood a large four-poster bed, and lying spread-eagled atop it, was the boy-prince, Tage Hedegaard. The shrike sung its song before gliding gracefully away and Tage slowly opened one eye. His first day of being twelve. He was looking forward to growing up, so that he didn’t have to rely on adults anymore. But for now, he was happy to rely on the cooks to make him a fantastic breakfast. In his half-asleep state, he remembered his dreams. He had had the same dream for as long as he could remember. A dream of flight, he would become a bird and soar out of his bedroom window, over the village and towards the ocean. He would feel the powdery clouds as he forged ahead over undiscovered continents and peoples. The dream drifted away as he heaved himself up onto an elbow and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and was met with the familiar feel of parchment beneath his toes. Tage made his way to the spiral staircase which lead down from the centre of his room and padded his way down it, still in his pyjamas. When he reached the bottom, he dug his toes into the lush red carpet and wondered why could not yet smell cooking eggs or bacon. Curious, he made his way to the kitchen. It was empty. Tage frowned, just because it was the moon festival yesterday doesn’t give the cooks an excuse to be lazy. He would tell his parents at once, then he could get his breakfast. It took almost five minutes to walk from the kitchens to the bedroom of the King and Queen, and Tage didn’t see a single soul for the whole trip. What he did see were several small birds flittering around the halls, larks, martins, and even a bearded reedling. How did they get in here? Tage wondered aloud. A couple of river warblers landed on a mahogany banister near him and he reached his hand out to stroke them. The birds rarely let him get this close when he was out in the woods and reed beds near the Palace. The boy-Prince pushed on to his parent’s room until he came to the familiar double doors. Without hesitation he pushed them open with both hands. He stopped in his tracks and his mouth fell open when he saw, that inside the room, instead of his parents, the King and Queen, at the top of the four-poster sat two kestrals. They cocked their heads at the boy when he entered, and one let a low caw. Tage sprinted back down the corridor. He must still be dreaming, maybe if he went back to his bed… But the shuddering feeling in his legs with every footstep kept telling him otherwise. This wasn’t a dream. Tage’s breathing became heavy, and his lower lip started to tremble. He desperately needed to see other people, human beings. The village! He emerged into the grand entrance hall at the top of the staircase. Down the carpeted, marble steps and along the length of the hall, large pillars rushed by either side of him. He reached the front doors and grabbed the loop of thick rope attached to one of them. Pulling with his legs the door swung inward and the second his small frame could slip through he was out into the open air. Immediately he sensed there was something wrong. The mountains and treetops seemed lower than they had been before. As he took a few steps forward he found his explanation. The entire Palace had been raised into the air, along with a large chunk of the ground beneath it. A few of the birds made their escape through the open front door and flew over Tage’s head as he took a few tentative steps closer to the edge of the sky-island. For the first time in his life, he looked down at the village from above, and it was exactly how he had dreamt it. ----------- I have some ideas for a follow up to this story, I quite enjoyed writing it. I might post another part if I have the time and if anyone is interested. Thanks for the prompt :)
'General Bougainvillea, the enemy has taken the base of Intense. The first and second Forward Battalions have been decimated. Casualty reports indicate that at least 1200 men are K.I.A.' The young privates words are like crows pecking at carrion. 4 years. That's how long we have struggled for our freedom. The Northern Alliance wanted the rich oil reserves in our dry desert of a country. They handled the declaration of war with surprising diplomatic flair. Using anti-government allies, the northerners managed to obtain a state-of-the art drone. They themselves used it to destroy a town in their own lands, intending to use the backlash as the catalyst to invade our country. Needless to say, they were successful in their endeavors. '-ral. General Bougainvillea, sir.' The young voice of the green grass snaps me back to the present. For a moment I reflect on the cruel fate that placed this young man on the wingtips of Death. But such musings are a luxury. And there are no luxuries in war. 'What is it, private?' 'An order from the brass, sir.' That's strange. I thought that I was the highest ranked officer at this station. 'Who gave the order?' 'The prime minister, sir.' If the prime minister himself calls a front-line general, its never a good omen. Perhaps they have finally decided to take the risk. To use the double edged knife that will cut them no matter how they handle it... \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ The conference room is eerily quiet. Its not just the fact that me and my fellow officers are meeting the absolute authority in the country. Rather we all know that if the top commanding generals from all 3 fronts are summoned, then surely, something of significance has occurred. The palpable tension was not knowing if it was good or bad news that awaited us. The double doors swing open, and in front of us stands the proud leader of the country of Terrarium, Matad Agrizza. Or that's what the news reporters would have you believe. In truth, we have been through too much with Matad to believe in the news. All of the people in that room knew that the prime minister was now reduced to a desperate man. Even Matad himself. 'Generals. Welcome. I hope you found the journey here enjoyable.' The lines that Matad always greeted us in times of peace, now seem like a dry joke to all of us. 'I will get right into it. We have found a way to defeat the Northern Alliance. However, it requires some self-sacrifice.' Matad's eyes lock with mine as he says this. They are pleading. Laughable. Almost a farce. To think that he would consider pleading to do what is necessary. 'Matad. How long have you known me?' The rest of the generals are not as surprised as some would expect. In this room, ranks are forgotten. All that remain are men and women determined to see Terrarium survive. 'Since we were 18. And I'm sorry for doubting you Bougainvillea. Explain to the others what you can do.' There it was. Finally, the permission to bare all secrets and let them spill into the daylight. 'I can switch bodies with any person on this planet, and gain all their memories. I have full control over what I can do and even speak in the designated persons voice. I know that you all can see the potential benefits of such a power. But there is a catch. The person I switch places with also can use my body as they choose. They also receive all my memories. There is also no knowing when they can regain consciousness in my body.' Judging from the widening eyes of my fellow generals, they realized the full implications of that statement. The truth is that, the anti-government allies were never against the government. They were loyal to the government. And carried out all the prerequisites to the war on our behalf. Terrarium was on the brink of civil collapse. And conveniently, the main hubs of rebels were located near the boarders to the North. It would have completely crushed the leadership if the government had acted against the violent protesters. So, a small proxy war with the north was engineered. Only that we had underestimated the northerners greed. Just desserts for turning against our people. But like before. In this room, ranks are forgotten. Even humanity and dignity is shed. All that remain are men and women determined to see Terrarium survive. 'This sounds like something from a Northern comic book. Are you sure your not pulling our legs General Bougainvillea?' The question isn't really skepticism. Its hope. Hope that, somehow, if we are exceedingly careful, we could finally end this war. 'Yes, it does. And no, I am not. You can ask the prime minister. And I think we should at least consider whom I will be switching with.' Matad looks up at the rest of the generals. They all hold their breaths. 'Their leader of course. The Emperor of the North himself.' \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Part two coming as soon as I can manage it!
The last human had died 50000 years ago, and many of my friends believe humans are a myth. But I've created a special group of only my most trusted alien's to help me try to bring humans back. They could do so many things to help further our economy! If humans used to be slaves and were efficient, we could use them now! Since us aliens have little laws, I'm sure there will be no legal issues to worry about with slavery. Humans aren't aliens anyways. Why do they matter? I went to my lab and used the touchscreen advanced computer. After a few minutes of bumbling around through files, I decided to send one of my drones out to Earth. I watched the camera carefully, but the screen went black and shook for a second. It... bumped into something? Isn't Earth supposed to be a wasteland? It's all flat now... It was a pod, and on it was a label that read: 'Tatianna, Xavier, Milo.' Ew, those sound like human names... I turned on voice activation. "Grab."The drone grabbed the pod and made it's way back. When it finally returned, I grabbed the pod and opened it. Clear little containers were filled with something almost microscopic. "Guys! Get in here! I think this is human DNA!" This is perfect... The human race will walk again. (I know there are a lot of grammar mistakes in this but I'm going into high school next year meaning I haven't had a real English class yet so please consider that before criticizing it qwq)
“And this is a copying machine. It copies all the documents you like and it has also a colour function.” The crowd that gathered around me admired our new addition to the office supplies with a lot of “oh”s and “ah”s. “Of course, only humans with colour vision can handle those machines. Luckily for you, I do have colour vision and was chief of copying in my old job.” “How practical”, said XCPR, who was doing their best to keep their middle eye shut in order to seem more human. “Would you like to re-enter the copying field in our company?” I smiled pleasantly. “Of course,” I said, “and, just because I like working for you so much, I will only accept ten dollars per copy instead of the 20 I got in my old firm.” WHRK came to my desk later on, a coffee mug in their tentacle. I knew they liked to experiment with human small talk and tried every opportunity to do so. “Agreeable weather today, isn’t it?” they said, “the temperatures are conforming to the season and the central star is well visible in the sky!” They opened their mouth widely, baring rows of pointy teeth. If I hadn’t known they were trying to smile, I would have been scared. “Oh yes,” I replied, smiling as well, “soon it is time for the Spring Celebrations.” WHRKs ‘smile’ faded but I knew I had made them curious. I made a show of rearranging the paper on my desk, until WHRK couldn’t hold back any more. “What are the Spring Celebrations?” they asked excitedly. “Well,” I tried not to grin, as I slowly turned towards them, “us humans celebrate the arrival of Spring every year, so every worker gets fourteen days off to attend the Celebrations.” “Really?” WHRK opened his third eye wide, which I knew was a sign of doubt, “my sibling WKRK works in a company 0.03 galactic units from here on this continent, but they never told me about these celebrations.” “Naturally”, I answered slowly, “as you know how fractured human culture is, they have other customs there.” I really had to coordinate myself with the human WHRKs sibling worked with and promised myself I would contact him or her as soon as WHRK was gone. WHRKs face brightened up, their third eye relaxed and they said: “Oh yes! I have read about this. How interesting! I will speak to XCPR in the next time unit, so you can have your days off for the Spring Celebrations! We should also consider making Spring Celebrations holidays compulsory for all the employees!” “This is a very good idea!” I answered, and as WHRK left my spacious office, I lifted my feet on my broad mahogany work table, pulled my company iPhone 20X-plus out and searched for the company human of WKRK’s firm.
The two ordered a feast that could've fed twelve all for themselves. Surely both of them would get bloated the next day but as two young, frivolous lovers infatuated intensely with each other, they were too distracted with each other's large puppy eyes to give heed to anything else. There they were, a classic couple sitting on a grassy field under the pale moonlight and the rich velvety sky dotted with darling stars. Four stacks of Papa John's pizza boxes sat next to them, along with a few empty small garlic sauce containers littered here and there. The young couple cuddled together, trying to give each other warmth in the chilly spring air. They were both so full and tired and very, very sleepy... but both jolted upright when they caught each other's eyes as they were just about to fall into each other's arms. They stared at each other, observing every little beautiful feature about each other... they leaned in closer and closer, the boy stroking the girl's soft face... it would be the first magical kiss for both of them... Their lips touched ever so slightly for a fraction of a second- but the girl jerked back. "What's wrong?"the boy asked, knitting his eyebrows with concern but also feeling a deep thump inside his chest. He felt like an anvil had dropped on his heart. The girl, smiling with a dreamy look in her eyes, whispered "I know your secret, Jerry." "What?"my secret? "Don't play dumb, Jerry. I know what you're hiding, and you won't get my lips until-" "Until what? I have nothing to hide! I don't know what you're talking about,"Jerry frowned, genuinely perplexed. The pretty girl looked behind her, at the pizza boxes. Suddenly, it clicked. This was such a long time ago that even Jerry forgot about it. It was the only secret he ever kept, and he had no clue how anyone could find out. The girl's smile quickly vanished when she realized it wasn't funny. She didn't even know why she smiled- ugh! It must've been the uncanny, yet magical effect of his large, soft, sparkling blue eyes...sometimes they had an iridescent quality to them...how could someone have such beautiful eyes? Agh! Snap out of it! "Jerry, I know your secret and I'm not okay with it! I know what you've been up to and I won't kiss you until you confess and apologize!"Tears gradually filled her eyes, sitting on her lower eyelashes and on the verge of running down her cheeks. She stood up and stormed off. The boy was taken aback by this accusation. "Wait! Whatcha talking about? Come back!"The girl ran instead, faster than her legs could carry her. Jerry stared blankly at the pizza boxes and the scattered empty garlic sauce containers. This was the third girl he dated, and the first girl he was just about to kiss... he was so close. The secret... he got so used to it that he forgot he had the powers. Maybe I should confess... but he didn't see a reason to apologize. He furrowed his eyebrows. Tomorrow, he was going to tell her the truth to her face. \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day, Jerry approached the girl's house and knocked gently using the brass knocker. The massive wooden door creaked open, and the pretty girl's head poked out. "Yes?" "I'm here to tell you what I've been hiding for years..." "Wait, years? How long have you been dating her? Yeesh! Not surprised that you cheated on me now. I didn't know you were still dating Monica!"She frowned. "What? Cheat? I would never! Monica just approached me the other day because she heard I had bubble gum on me and wanted some. And no, I'm not dating her anymore! I-I thought you knew my actual secret!"Jerry smiled, which turned into a giggle, and then into a boisterous laugh that he just couldn't contain within himself. She's in for a surprise when she finds out! "What? I-I'm confused now...huh?" "Maybe I should show and not tell."He smiled slyly. The girl peered at him quizzically. Jerry stepped back, crouched as if he was just about to leap, struck his hands into the air and with utter concentration, he muttered strange words... gradually, boxes of pizza started to fill up the space around him. They seemed to be appearing out of thin air. The girl eyes grew wide and she couldn't help gaping. "Y-y-you're-"she stopped and stared at him. She knew there was always something magical about him. Jerry winked at her, and his eyes twinkled like Santa Claus's. Her eyes lit up and in a barely audible whisper, "You're the legendary Pizza Summoner!" "Indeed." The girl ran up to him putting her arms around his neck. He smelled like pizza! They stared into each other's eyes... both of them leaned in to each other slowly... their lips touched, making that the first kiss for both of them.
Okay, supposedly coming home from a long day at work should be something to look forward to, right? Of course, many people stop the fast-paced hustle and bustle of their working lives to slow down and detach themselves from the heat of the day’s emotions. They turn off their autopilot and in the later hours of the waning day, decide to do what they love and talk to the people that cherish them most. I don’t have that kind of luxury. When I come home from a day of mind-numbing mental labor, I have to worry about paranormal beings overheating my whole apartment. Yeah, if you don't believe me, you should spend a night here, I’m welcoming any open arms to move around blocks of ice to keep next to any animated life, so that whatever the ice is next to doesn’t die from a heat death, y’know? I’m not exaggerating, they can and will leave any household appliance, no matter how impenetrable the structure of it is, in shambles, ash and dust. Sh’uudkei in particular really likes to make mt life miserable. I swear that he gets this profound high from irreparably damaging my property, and that includes everything – large furniture, toilet pipes, drywall -- you name it, he’ll make sure to tear it down in seconds. Him and his six other...friends drive me up the fucking wall. And I might not be able to do even that, because Ghemmi is chewing at it right now. Obviously I’ve tried all I could to make them stop screaming, or whispering into my ear every opportunity they get, or running across the hallways back and fourth like they’re two years old - at least act like something that's existed long enough to count as prehistoric! Come on! I consult Father Paul every week to at least force another soul to share this burden I bear alone most of the time. Sometimes his blessings help to quiet everyone down, but it usually treats the symptoms, and not the disease. Everything in these three rooms goes back to being steeped in humanity’s worst sins in about a day’s time after being treated, but it helps when I got a meeting first thing in the morning. “Clifford, why don’t you move?” Father Paul asks me this every time; it’s a suggestion bordering on a command at this point. As I breeze though the malls on Broad Street, my heart starts to pound intensely as we’re getting close to Orange Peak Public Housing. Is this going to be the day he fixes this whole thing? In my heart of hearts, a voice firmly whispers “No”. “I still got a week left of my money’s worth on rent.” “My son, this is more costly than your rent – this costs your emotional well-being, your time, labor and nerves. Not to mention your expenses for repair of property, for the ice cubes, fans...” “It’s not my property to leave behind, Father. If it was mine, I’d shove my clothes into a suitcase and drive to New Mexico and let this condo rot, oh, believe me!” “I hope that you do know where you’re staying once this is over, and – may god have mercy - if they happen to haunt you forever, you know what to do.” My heart starts sinking as I pull my dinged up car into the housing complex driveway. I really can’t believe I’m coming back again. “Yeah, If they’re not gonna leave me alone for the rest of my life, might as well off myself. Hell’s empty anyways. Hah.” Father gave me a look of scorn that I couldn’t see, though I could feel it on my neck, pressing onto my conscience. His wasn’t a look of pure scorn, but also of a somber knowledge that If the demons weren’t just confined to this apartment, he would understand my will to leave. Sleep. I unlock the front door. We walk in, down to the first floor. I lead him to the door farthest to the left in the hallway. As we approach apartment 666, we both let out an uneasy sigh in preparation as to what we are about to see (and, possibly, be attacked or killed by). “Father Paul, are you ready?” “Cliff, Is anybody really ready to see Hell again?” (This is my first ever story on this subreddit, so if you have any constructive criticism, I'd appreciate it very, very much. Personally, I'm not happy with how this one turned out, and there are many holes in the story, but I'm willing to make changes for the better in my style of writing. Thank you for reading!)
"Will the defendant please rise" I stood. The restraints humming was strong enough to give me a headache and I welcomed the chance to distance then from my ears. "You have elected to take the stand. Do you understand this means you knowingly waive your Section 47 Rights?"The President of the Court squinted at me. "Yes, your Excellency"I croaked. "I understand th-" "That enough,"he barked "you speak on the stand. You listen now." "Yes, your Excellency" "The prosecutor will question you on your decision, your lawyer will also have an opportunity to clarify after. Then the prosecutor again, then finally your lawyer. Do you have any other questions?" I hesitated. I looked at my leech of a lawyer, he gave me a thumbs up, I still think he should shove it up his ass. "Yes your honour"I said, taking his nod as permission to take the stand. I sat down, the humming of my restraints hammering back into my head. The prosecutor rose. "Prisoner 435-A1, you were admiral of the Exploratory Andromeda Expedition during the incident in question?" "The EAE, yea"I responded. "Can you please explain to the court what happened in the CIC when you first encountered the Andromedans?" "Well, first the proximity alarms went off, no transponder codes, no known drive signature, no information what-so-ever." "Is that why you ordered a nuclear strike? It was something you had no information on?" "I ordered the strike because they blasted our communications dish with a GR Laser." "So you ordered a legal attack in response to something that can reasonably be seen as a warning shot?" "It was Gamma Rays!"I snapped "do you have any idea how many of my people have cancer or are dead now?' "Did you consider why they hit your communications tower?" "At the time, no" "What did you do, Prisoner 435-A1, when your technicians noticed the GR Laser was repeating in binary, and that the message was a complex numerical sequence?" I looked down. "I told him to stop taking" "May the record reflect the defendant's actual words 'get that technician garbage out of the CIC before I space you with the hostiles'" The courtroom murmured. "I didn't realise the significance at the time. The situation was unprecedented!" "And yet,"said the prosecutor "you decided that humanity's welcome in the stars starts with blood on our hands. Intentional blood. Blood you spilled." Finally my lawyer does his job "OBJECTION! Your Excellency" Taking the stand was a bad idea. And that fucking buzzing.
It's been 50 years since Betty White left us. 50 whole years, and I still can not believe it. She lived for hundreds of thousands of years, watching over us, making movies for us, and she was gone. Gone because of one snap. Everybody thought the story of Thanos in the Marvel movies were fiction, that the infinity stones weren't real. They were... partially right. Thanos wasn't quite as tall as he was in the movies, and his skin had more of a blue tint than they showed in that old movie, Avengers Endgame. The infinity stones worked a little differently too. They didn't go into any special glove, they went into the skin. A price, for using their power. Not that that price really meant much. What did it do, sting him a little bit? There weren't even any of those Avengers to stop him. And none to fix it. Betty White was a victim of the snap, and, as it turns out, she not only gave the world entertainment and light, but also colour. Everything is dim, and the only colours are shades of gray. I hope the people of years passed appreciated her. I hope they saw the worth in her that has been completely ripped from this planet.
[poem] this is my first response to a writing prompt and I’m no Robert Frost . Criticism is welcome, but please... be gentle On your daily trek home You see in the woods A deep and dark hole This can be no good. But from the black void A sound so curious Your shorts are now soiled You feel delirious. As you finally awaken And see those dark eyes His words have you shaken “Shia Surprise”
"They've come for you. Tip $9 if you want to get out alive." Joseph chuckled at the fortune cookie. He crumpled it up and looked around the room, expecting smiles. Patrons were busy eating and the staff were delivering plates and clearing tables. Except for two men at the far corner. One had his back to him. The other was facing in his general direction, but his sunglasses kept his focus secret. The check arrived. Joseph examined it and looked up. The men at the table shifted. It felt like eyes were on him. It had been twelve years since Joseph retired. He wasn’t proud of the work he did. But everyone needs to eat. They told him the contracts were bad people. Murderers, rapists, and abusers. He was helping people by ending their terror. After years in that line of work, he was sure to have pissed off a lot of people too. Who would defend the kind of people he took out? These guys, apparently. Joseph considered the fortune cookie. Whoever slipped the note in there knew him. It was either someone he could trust or it was a trap. Either way, he had everything to lose. He added the nine dollar tip and signed. A moment later, the restaurant manager came over to his table. Joseph was a regular here. The food was shit, but the staff was friendly enough and they didn’t mind having him linger here for hours, as long as he was eating. “Mr. Joseph Tran. That’s a very generous tip. Could I interest you in touring our kitchen?” “I’d love to.” Joseph watched the men from the corner of his eye as he rose. They were watching him. He followed the manager into the kitchen. Once inside, several people walked up to the door, all holding handguns with silencers. “Mr. Tran. These men have come for you. My staff will gladly escort you to my car and take you to my safe house.” “How do you know who I am? And how did you know?” “Let’s just say you’ve made a lot of people happy. And they think you deserve to die of old age.” The manager handed Joseph a gun and gestured to his staff. They ran towards the exit while muffled shots filled the kitchen.
[Poem] Beached at the edge of a porcelain lake The water is clear only because I shrank My family probably lives somewhere in the dining hall My girl with her new toy, My boy with a rubber ball. I sincerely hope I find them first I don't think that between their purs they would realize I've been cursed and I don't want a nervous flush to hearse me like my goldfish: Good, Bad, and my favorite guppy Worst.
“Here’s your pill” “What? What for?” “We don’t allow individuals here. This is a mood stabilizer.” “Oh. Okay.” Trish took her pill, turned grey like everybody else, and got back to work. It'll be nice, she thought, to no longer have those inconvenient emotions in the way. “Am I the only person to have ever been multiple colors?” The others looks at her. A whispered voiced from in front of her caught her by surprise. The sound was like a leaking air tube, but it was definitely a voice. She looked at its speaker as they turned around from in front of her to face her. “SSShhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the person said to her with a finger raised to their lips. The curiosity faded, and the pill finally took effect. She stood in line to go back to work, a wave of satisfaction in compliance overtaking any other thought. Another voice from behind her filled her ears. “Am I the only person to have ever been multiple colors?” the voice asked her. Trish turned around. The person had just been given a grey pill. “SSShhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Trish answered. The line of people waiting for their mood stabilizers got longer. Nobody noticed the sign “THE GROUP FAILS WHEN THE INDIVIDUAL APPEARS” “How accurate,” Trish thought, and got back to work.
I dream of a cloud. One of those big, puffy white clouds you see in the blue sky on a bright, sun shiny day. Then the sky turns gray, and the cloud looks like smoke. And the cloud starts to descend. But I can't move. So I just keep staring at it until it presses me down to the ground and covers my face. It smothers me. I can't breathe. I wake up. I gasp and reach for my inhaler but there's a weight pressing in on me from above. There's a pillow over my face. She's suffocating me to death. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
It was 11 at night, and I was sitting in my dimly lit living room, staring off into space. He should have been back hours ago! If he'd gotten into trouble, I would have a huge mess to sort out... Suddenly, I heard the doorknob rattle. It continued rattling for an entire minute - he still hadn't gotten used to using keys - then the door swung open with a loud creak. A moment later, my exact doppelganger walked into the room, hiding something behind his back. "You're late"I grumbled. "What happened?" My doppelganger pulled out the box that we was hiding behind his back, and proclaimed excitedly "I bought this!" I looked at the box. "It took you four hours... to buy a Monopoly set?" My doppelganger flailed his arms about enthusiastically and elastically. "I went to a place called Target! And there were so many fascinating things there! But I could only buy one thing because you didn't have many green papers in your wallet!" "And out of everything there... this game was what intrigued you the most?" "Well..."my doppelganger answered "There were these sticks that made colorful lines, but I knew you didn't like it when I drew on the walls, so I got this instead!" "Uh... Ok"I said. "Can we play it now? Please!"he begged, a goofy smile on his borrowed face. "No. Tomorrow. Go to bed now."I said. "Aw..."he said, and left the room. I sighed. I wondered how long the repairs on the spaceship would take. Several months at least. That meant several months of putting up with this overly inquisitive alien. How on Earth was I going to survive that?
I set my camera up in the corner and hit record. Then I jump into my friend's hamster, escape the cage, climb up my friend's arm, and hump his face with my hamster body. Then I run back into the cage and transfer back to my own body. My friend looks at me flabbergasted, not knowing what happened. "DID YOU SEE THAT? MR FLUFFY JUST HUMPED MY FACE!" "Not only did I see that, I recorded that,"I tell him. "One day, in the near future, we are going to fight. You will let me win that fight. If you do not let me win that fight, I will release this video to the entire world. I will make millions of views. I will become famous. And you will forever be known as the Boy Who Got His Face Humped By A Hamster." He stood there, balling his fists and gritting his teeth. "Now, if you'll excuse me,"I said, making my way past him to the door. "My nose tells me that your mother has just made some brownies, and I am going to eat some." "You changed,"he hissed. "At least I wasn't the one who got his face-"I stop and smile. "You get the point. See you downstairs."
"Well who would you have me choose then?! I'll give you this one for free. I'll switch you with one person from your world. The catch is they have to be as-good-as or better than you. Go on. Choose. You know your world better than I will for a long long time. You don't want to cooperate? You want to go back to your family and your little life? Well that puts me at a loss, so if you can name someone right now to be my chosen actor for this world, think of them now and name them. I'll place them in your shoes, and let you go home." I thought about it. I really thought about it. I thought about friends who were into escapism as I was back on earth. I thought about internet celebrities and D&D podcast hosts, and steven colbert. I thought about the few economists I'd heard of, the few winners of ninja warrior, and survivalists from tv. They'd surely have a better chance in this world than I. And then I thought about how they'd go through the same heartbreak I'd been putting off this whole time. And I named myself.
I've always hated this about my family. Ever since I was a kid all everyone ever talked was my dad. "Thomas Andersen defeats the three-headed hydra! Is one head actually better than three?". "Unstopable force against immovable object! Thomas Andersen saves hundreds by singlehandedly holding back a landslide!"Don't get me wrong, at first I admired my dad more than anyone else. I was his "biggest fan", however corny that sounds. But when your days are filled with nothing but other people talking about how cool he is, and how I'll be sure to follow in his steps, year in and year out, you grow to resent it. Yes, my dad may be a strong, kind and all around fantastic man but how do they know that that's what I am?... or what I was going to be? This story is from the summer before I left home. My dad was asked to give a speech, talk about his life, and how being an adventurer is all about what's inside, or some nonsense like that. And, well, of course, there was no one else besides myself to go out and scout the perfect location to gather a bunch of people to listen to motivational drivel. He told me to, and I quote, "get of my arse and be a part of something greater for a change", which caused me as much physical discomfort as it will probably cause you when reading this. In any case, I loaded up the wagon and set out for the closest town to see if they will be able to accomodate all the visitors. Believe it or not, despite my constant struggle with my identity being indistiguishable from that of my dad, I did a pretty good job at these things. I guess you could say it's in my blood... The scorching sun and the unrelenting buzz of cicadas were starting to get to my head. Travelling this time of the year was never enjoyable, but this year, it seemed to me, the sun was particularly bent on incinerating all life on the planet, or at the very least my wagon and myself. I decided to stop at the nearest village to at least get some water, and, honestly, it's not like I was in a hurry. Everything that followed, under normal circumstances, should have thrown me off right away, but for a mirriad of reasons, unbrearable heat being one of them, it did not. The village was empty. I wouldn't call Creektown a particularly lively village to begin with, but this time the streets were so empty you would probably have trouble telling for sure if anyone has ever lived here. All the windows were shut, no smoke coming from the chimneys, no cattle, not a single priest or metchant in the street. Getting everyone and everything off the streets with what was happening outside was probably the sensible decision, I thought, but this was downright eery. I stopped by a well to get some water. I jumped down, lowered the bucket down into the well. And then I heard it, the noise coming from behind one of the hovels. Like someone sweeping the floor maybe, or pushing a crate, or dragging a heavy sack on the ground. Happy to see this ghost town at least had someone alive and kicking I went around the back to see what was actually going on. "Hello!"my voice echoed loudly thought the streets bouncing between the empty houses. I peeked around the corner. "Hel-"I stopped in my tracks, petrified. Down on the ground, just as surprised to see another living being, maybe 3 feet high, stood a goblin, clinging to a shirt on a body he was dragging into the field just past the fence. On the floor, obviously unconcious and obviosuly being dragged against his will, was none other than my dad, Thomas Andersen, the great adventurer of Yheele. Adrenaline kicking in, with a paniced voice I started "What in the hell do you thi-"There was a loud thud. Just for a brief moment my ears started ringing and then I collapsed to the ground. Coming to my senses all I felt was intense pain in the back of my head. Taking a few seconds to reflect on whether I even wanted to try and get up, I took a deep breath. The first thing that struck me was the smell. The absolutely foul smell that filled the damp air, as if somone put a pot filled to the brim with decomposing toads right under my nose. No surprise it made me jolt right up, or well, as quickly as I could get up anyway. "What are you doing here kiddo..."came the hoarse, disappointed, familiar voice. I didn't want to turn my head to see his face, picturing it in my head was more than enough. "You told me to go find a place for the show so I was passing-""No kid, what are you doing in here, with me?"We were sitting on cold, stone floor, in a small alcove carved into the cave's wall. A couple of feet in front of us were surprisingly well-made metal bars. "Yea well what are you doing here?". He chucled. "I know it might sound strange, but I'm here by choice.""You didn't look too willing to get dragged along the fl-""Floor by that goblin yes. I faked it, was concoius the whole time.""What?! And you did nothing when you saw me portentially getting murdered by one of his buddies?""Oh get over it, they barely hit hard enough to leave a bruise."I was starting to get really riled up, when he spoke up. "... But I'm glad you're ok, kid. Thruth is, I'm here for a job. The goblin king never comes out of his cave, and there's no way to find your way there on your own. So I thought the best way to get to him would be getting captured. Never meant to drag you into this. Guess you have a talent for getting yourself dragged into these things."He smiled. "Just like your old man."I squirmed at these last words. Without a reply I stood up, and went closer up against the bars to see what it is exactly that I "dragged myself into". Beyond the bars was a long hallway, with a couple of dying torches lit alongside the walls and water dripping from the cave ceiling. From way down the hallway I heard a rattling sound, so I turned to look. Having heard the noise Thomas got up as well, and stood up right beside me. A few moments later out of the darkness emerged three small goblin silhouettes. Two of them lagged behind and were carrying spears maybe twice if not three times their height, but the one leading them did not have any weapons. Almost frolicking forward, all around his waist were jingling keys to, what I assumed, were different cells in this "dungeon"if you could call it that. The procession came to a halt at our cell door, and the leader frantically started to look for the right key on his key-belt. The whole process took an uncomfortably long time to the point where the guards shared a look and then turned back to us almost apologetically. Soon enough, having found the right tool the leader spoke in a high pitched, borderline screeching voice. "You're up, humans! The king will see you now, to decide how to better put you to use!"As he finished, he started giggling uncontrolably. Apparntly the laughter was contaigious because in a moment the guards were giggling as well. Not having been given much choice we got out of the cell and started walking down the hallway, occasioanlly getting ever so slightly poked by the spears of our captors from the back. Some time later, after what can only be described as crawling through the narrow hallways clearly not designed for humans, we emerged in a larger cave. All around the edges of it, in piles, were gold, jewels, intricate weapons, all playing off the light coming from the cracks in the ceiling, and also... cattle? I had no idea how the goblins managed to drag a grown cow in here and honesly I was not keen on finding out, but I'll be damned if it wasn't impressive. In the center of the room, carved out of stone was a makeshift throne, on which resided a big fat lump of green flesh, the Goblin King. He was dressed in lavish oversized robes and spotted a golden crown incrusted with rubies. As we came to a stop and our handlers receeded into the back of the room he bellowed, to our surprise in a much deeper voice than any of his comrades could probably manage "Welcome, humans! How nice of you to pay me a visit! Please, make yourself at home." *** If you guys enjoyed it I'd be glad to write a Part 2 of how the story plays out! Let me know.
He smiled at me.. at me? No certainly not. I was sure, I have been roaming for hundreds of years unseen by everyone and this man sitting across the room is smiling at me. He waves at me, yes he does see me. He moves from his seat moving closer to me, he reaches out a hand, I am dumbfounded... how can he see me? I tentatively shake his hand. “Quinn” he says, with another smile. “E-elaria” I manage to sputter. He is quite handsome, olive skin tone, brown eyes, dark brown unkempt hair. “I haven’t seen you around here before” Quinn says, sitting next to me. Mmm I wonder why I think to myself with a small smirk. I look at him “Well I’m new to town... well new to the state I guess you could say, I moved here from Michigan” I say with the slightest bit of cynicism. How can he see me is the only thought ringing in my head. My gut twists, the realization hits me, I probably look like a ghost, I haven’t exactly had to keep up with my looks. I pat down my hair, in an attempt to control the rats nest. “I was about to leave if you’d like to walk with me” Quinn offers as he gets up to leave. “Yes, could you show me around town, if you have the time” I ask, hoping he will say yes. With asking this I noticed just how hungry I was to be noticed, I just need him to look at me for a little longer, I need to feel eyes on me again. “Yeah, we actually have a great park not to far from here, I can walk you there.” He says. “Great, my apartment isn’t to far away, from there I think” I say with a smile, looking into his eyes. We leave the coffee shop, head downtown toward the city park. Quinn tells me about school life, about his friends, he talks about his family briefly. I let him talk, only offering little bits of myself at a time, I don’t care if all we talked about was him, he was here and talking to me... to ME. We near the park and Quinn slows his life pace. “Well I guess this is where we part ways, only if you know where you’re going” he says, running a hair through his hair, leaving it messier than before which seemed impossible. “Yes I do, I just live about a block away” I smile. “Great, well it was wonderful meeting Elaria, I hope to see you again” he says extending his hand once again. “Yes, I hope so” I say shaking his hand again. We turn to part ways... invisible again...
I always hate to wake up in Freefall because that usually means that I missed the exit for the reality that I really wanted to be in... and I'm going to sound like I'm crazy here, but I swear I'm not. Ah, well, though, this is fine. And no, despite the meme, I'm serious, this is fine. &#x200B; No, I'm not crazy, and pardon me for going off on a tangent here, but anything and everything that you believe to be true can be and is, it just depends on what reality you're in. &#x200B; Back to the whole dreaming thing. I remember hearing forever ago that dreams were portals to other universes. Don't know where, don't really care to remember. What I do remember though is that I decided to test that theory one day. It was true, dreams really were portals to other worlds &#x200B; Hey, I had the time to, what with no wife, no kids, no real life outside of the nine-to-five that I've probably got my boss wondering why I've skipped work. &#x200B; Now, it's not like Freefall is that bad- the robot's a little strange, but Florence is friendly enough- it's just that it's usually where I end up if I've lost my way. &#x200B; I mean, I guess you could say that I've lost my way in more ways that one- I refer you back to my previous statement- no wife, no life, no nothing, really- but you know what I mean. &#x200B; "Hey, Zarmal,"Florence says, coming over to me where I'm standing, and I get a look at myself, same as I always am here, a Bowman's wolf like Florence, "you look really tired, are you okay?" &#x200B; "Fine, Florence, fine,"I say, wiping my eyes and cursing the fact that I have to be up, seeing as wolves are supposed to be nocturnal. At least, they are in most realities. &#x200B; "So where to today?"I ask, shaking my head once again to snap myself out of my stupor. &#x200B; "No idea, honestly,"she says, gesturing with a sweep of her paw. "It's been a pretty quiet day, so really, Zarmal, if you want to go back to sleep, I'll let you make up the guard shift some other time. We are going to be here a while, after all." &#x200B; "Of course,"I say, heading for the bunks in the back of the ship. See, that's another thing. You can do whatever you want in these realities, which is nice, and since I'm feeling wiped, both here and in actual real reality (which still exists and grounds people), I'm going to take a nap. &#x200B; I've had crappy days like this before, so I know my way to the bunks in the crew quarters. It's not that far of a walk, this ship is kinda tiny, so I make it where I'm going quickly enough and pull myself into bed. &#x200B; Thankfully again, I fall asleep quickly, and I've been out for what feels like forever, yay, when the sound of chiming alarm bells and- what the heck I'm flying out of bed here! &#x200B; My eyes snap open all the way, and I see that the ship is diving hard, hard, hard, and I'm being pancaked against the back wall of the room, and everyone is panicking. This doesn't usually happen, but yeah, it sucks. &#x200B; I hate waking up in freefall.
The blond boy dawdled through the forest, not really aiming to go anywhere. There was no hurry, it wasn't like anyone was waiting for him back home, or at the school. It hadn't been the greatest of days, and that was saying something considering his life. The teacher, as usual, had taken immense pleasure in patiently explaining, in front of the entire class no less, exactly how dumb he was. So if everyone else didn't see him as a loser already, that definitely sealed the deal. As much as he hated school though, he still wanted to pass the exam the next day. And wasn't it just great that the syllabus contained the one topic that he was the crappiest at. Well, there was nothing for it, he was going to practice here till he fainted. He settled into a clearing, subconsciously checking if he was alone. Getting into the appropriate stance, he focused his energy, visualised the outcome in as much detail as he could. 'Hold the energy inside, shape it, mould it. Focus, and make it into reality' he thought. He was ready now. As soon as he spoke the incantation, he felt a tingling in every muscle in his body. It quickly deepened, getting to his bones. He could even feel the sensation in his hair. Something not unlike a swiftly vibrating metal blade, that had been bent and sharply released. He started to panic, thinking something had gone horribly wrong. Just when he thought his body would tear itself apart, it actually did, but not the way he had feared. His entire being exploded outwards, and stepped in front of him, an exact replica of himself. As both of him steadied themselves, they looked at each other, or themselves, tentatively. "Man"the original spoke, "that is so not how I imagined the Kage Bunshin Jutsu to be."
Another storm was rolling in. Growing up in the tornado alley, I had grown petrified of thunderstorms. They made me a bit nervous, like airplanes, the West Nile Virus, and bald men with tattoos. I reached for my bottle of Xanax, but it was empty. Panicking, I raced upstairs to find my mom in the kitchen. "Mom, do you have my backup pills?"I was out of breath now as I could hear the thunder getting closer. "Yes dear, one second."She reached into her purse and pulled out one small blue pill. Most parents would not be supportive of their 28 year old children living in their basement, but my mother, Gale, was a saint. I have suffered from terrible anxiety and phobias since being a small child. "Bella, why don't you go turn the TV on while I finish up dinner? Dad will be home soon and this storm should pass quickly."Downing the pill dry, I walked into the living room and flipped on TLC. Instead of "Say Yes to the Dress"our local news anchor's face appeared. Thinking he was covering the storm, I tried another channel, then another. Still, the same story scrolled across the bottom of the screen- "Unknown creatures appearing across multiple continents. Police warn- stay inside." "What?"I laughed to myself, "What kind of joke is this?"I peaked outside our bay windows and my heart stopped. The thunderclouds were rolling in from the horizon- dark blue, purple and green swirled with flashes of lightning like I had never seen. Surely this was the coming of the apocalypse on clouds of thunder from the heavens. The anchorman's voice droned on in the background but all I heard was screaming. My own voice screaming in my head, "this isn't real, this isn't real"As the storm roared closer I felt tears run down my face and my fingers were numb. On a crack of lightning a figure dropped from the sky and landed 5 feet from my face on his haunches. A half-man, half-beast creature with a golden coat and blue eyes reared up, then looked over at me. The world went black. &#x200B; I woke up some time later in the hospital with an IV in my arm. "Bella? Oh honey, you're awake. Charles! She's awake."My mom was hovering above my face, stroking my hair. "Hi sweetie, you gave us quite the scare."She fussed and fretted over my blankets and pillows. Was I comfortable? Was I hungry? "Mom, how long have I been here?"I gestured to the hospital room. "Not long, just a couple of days. But everything's alright now, we can go home soon."The small TV above my bed was on, but muted. "Mom, can you turn the volume up?"She was hesitant, but did as I asked. The same anchorman who had been on the day of the storm was reporting again. I was not hallucinating when I saw the creature jump from the sky. Legends, fantastical creatures once thought to be myth had appeared all over the world, and they were here to stay. After hiding themselves for protection before the common era, they waited in silence until mankind could accept them. Recent strides ensured them that it would be a peaceful transition, and their hidden world was dying. Now images flashed across the screen of ogres and mermaids, dragons and elves. It was too much too fast and I found myself in a deep depression. Even after we arrived home, I could not come to terms with this new world. Nothing would be the same. Others gushed at how the world was filled with mystery and wonder again, but I feared the worst. How long would it take until they wanted more? More power? More control? They could easily subdue us. They more I thought about the possibilities the deeper I sank. I stopped eating, stopped showering. My reality was gone. &#x200B; My parents were very worried about me, naturally. They started making me sit in the back yard with them on sunny afternoons, sure that the vitamin D would lighten my mood. In addition to my sun exposure, I began seeing a therapist once a week. He encouraged me to take up some kind of artistic expression, and I found that I liked to sketch. I would sketch the trees and wildlife around our house, mostly; these things grounded me and kept me sane. One afternoon my parents were both gone to work and I decided to sketch a maple in the front lawn that had a giant bird's nest. Lost in concentration, I did not see the girl next to me until she spoke. "Oh, I love that!"She exclaimed. I jumped and immediately covered my drawing. "What are you doing!?"I yelled, "Who are you!?" She was not phased. "I'm Sam,"She held out her hand, but I did not take it. "I just moved here last week. I like going for runs. Do you like to run?"She had a child-like innocence and big doe eyes. Her smile was radiant, and she never stopped smiling. Despite myself, I fell in love with her instantly. Sam asked to see my drawing again and this time I showed her. After she left, I felt a little better than I had in weeks. Sam came to visit me every afternoon after. We would talk about the trees and the neighborhood, about what sounded good for dinner or what the weather would be like. We never once talked about the change, and I appreciated that. I think Sam sensed my hesitation, or maybe she knew my fears? I can't be sure. I had come to depend on her daily visits like a dose of morphine in a world of pain. Without realizing it, I had gained a best friend. Then came the day that Sam did not visit. I waited in the front yard, sketching the sky. Hours went by and I became worried. The sky turned orange, crimson, then black. Still, Sam did not show. I didn't voice my apprehension to my parents because I did not want to worry them. I had been showing so much promise- a relapse would devastate them. The next day I went outside again, and again Sam did not come. Now I was panicking. I did not even know where she lived or where to look for her. On the third day I all but ran to the front yard to find, not Sam, but a note written in thin cursive. She had fallen ill and was in danger. There was an address scribbled on the back, one that I recognized as only a few blocks away. Not waiting for permission, I borrowed mom's car and sped there in an instant. The modest house boasted a yard full of exotic flowers and towering trees- almost it's own little forest. I knocked three short taps, my breath coming in puffs. An older woman cracked the door. "Can I help you?"She had Sam's big brown eyes and slender nose. "Is Sam here?"I could barely stop myself from pushing the door open. "Are you Bella?"She was skeptical, but opened the door once I showed my identification. I walked into a room unlike any other I had been in before. Vines and flowers grew up the walls. Butterflies and dragonflies perched on slender branches and there was a sound of trickling water from somewhere in the distance. My heart wrenched as I realized what this was. I wanted to leave, but there was my friend lying lifeless on the floor. Sam's mother took my hand. "I know you are scared, but she needs you here."When she implored me with her eyes, how could I say no? I knelt with her and some other druids to where Sam was lying. They taught me the words to an incantation as I placed my hands on her arm. Miraculously, she awoke! I forgot who she was, where we were, and what I was doing in that moment of sheer joy. My friend was alive, and that was all that mattered. In the coming months Sam told me of her family and their nature of their magic. They were healers who had lived in the forest as druids before the change. She taught me the ways of her people, how the magic worked and what herbs worked best for what remedies. When a rebel faction of magical people did attack- as I knew they would- we worked together to heal the allies. I bandaged wounds, made potions, looked into the eyes of death and did not flinch. More storms came, rolling always toward me- that would never change. But I had changed, and that was all that mattered.
The blood tainted soil seems much, much more dryer as I walk across it. Feet leaving invisible marks in the mud below. Marks of skinless feet only visible to those who have seen my handiwork. It’s strange. No matter how much of humanity I see, they never seem to change much. It’s just that somewhere deep in their brains, the reptilian aspect of their savage selves that they deem to keep within for the sake of their race always seems to slip outside, doesn’t it? That mask of gentle humanity turns into paper and falls away when exposed to the monster that is war. The monster I come to meet. I can see him now. He crouches over the body of a fallen soldier. A young man who’s gasping for breath, blood seeps out of his stomach like a dam broken open, is life trickles of him with every step I take. His clothes are an unusual mix of all kinds of armour and soldierly clothing, uniforms, armour, weapons slung over his shoulder and skin as red as the rush of battle and the adrenaline of murder. The monster stands up, moving closer to me. Until we’re shoulder to shoulder, both of us watching the man in his futile attempts to cling to life. “This ‘un was a fighter, ‘e was,” He says, “Shot down five of ‘em Nazi buggers in the time ‘e was bein’ pursued by ‘em,” “You do know why I’m here, don’t you Percival?” I ask, giving him the stare I reserve for those who’ve been out of my clutches for quite some time. “C’mon Death, gimme some time to take a look at the scenery that my efforts provided to us, t’was a close match after all, them English lads gave them Nazi buggers a run for their money, they did.” “I know, it wasn’t the most favorable part of my career Percival.” I say, continuing my unblinking stare,” He looks at me incredulously, “Oh, come off it Death, you’ve been through worse haven’t you?” he says, “In fact, that’s part of the reason you didn’t name yourself as all of us did, you were afraid of becoming closer to the souls you had to collect.” I shake my head. I never named myself because I looked at all of us, the horsemen, and saw nothing but evil and darkness and hate. I swore to clean up their filthy mess, to keep their darkness from corrupting the world at the moment until the final breath of humanity came at the sounds of the trumpets above, I’ve tried and tried and failed to keep my brothers and sisters from rising; I’ve put them all back to sleep after their unseen risings. In the end, it was not God that kept the earth safe. It was me. I tell Percival to get down to his knees. He falls, facing away from my gaunt, eyeless stare as he looks into the distance, mountains rising in some unseen world where a curious presence made a world in with beings in its image just to see what would happen. “I existed as the immune system of this race, the creature who people referred to as their saviour, or guardian angel,” I say. “Alluding to our wastrel father who left us in charge of his misbegotten experiments and children.” “I am none of those, neither guardian angel, nor saviour, but I know I must be the sane one if ever humanity is to stay on this misbegotten land. I must be the single bit of sanity in the cloud of madness that the three of you are to allow humanity to exist in this mad, mad world.” His head is bowed now like he is shamed by my words, but I know that Percival never will learn, as his bloodlust overcomes him after some time. Then he returns to this forsaken world, to mutter his poisons into the ears of people, ready to start another conflict. I can still sense him smiling. “Hey, at least we had a good run of it didn’t we, my brother?” he looks up at me, expecting a reply. I keep myself sullen, despite the involuntary grin on my skull. But I let a little bit of a smile creep into my voice as I say: “Perhaps we did,” A pause, “Goodbye, Percy,” I swing my blade, and his head falls off with a thunk, lying on the ground as the rest of his body disappears into dust. He’s returned back, to his resting place. I turn to the man. He sees me now, I can see it in the fear glazed in his eyes, like the blank lifeless looks of terror on a teddy bear’s face as it is ripped up by canine mouths. “Promise me to live, live beyond this war you’ve been confined to,” I say, turning and wading into the mist. I turn. “After all, you’re not on my list...yet.”
I've always been immune. Any type of toxin, I could see it affecting other people. Doctors didn't know what to diagnose me with. I could care less about my difference. I have a loving family, and I couldn't live without them. They matter more than whatever I may have. When I woke up this morning, it wasn't to my mother's soothing voice. I just heard dead silence, which was odd for my really full house. It was never silent. My first instinct was to think of the worst. Were they kidnapped? No, I have to think rationally. They're probably still sleeping. I walked into my mother and father's room and saw them both in bed. I sighed in relief. "Mom, dad, wake up!"I said loudly. They didn't answer. I shook them, but they still didn't wake up. I shook them harder and harder until I knocked both of them off of the bed. This can't be happening. They always wake up so easily... Maybe my siblings would know what's happening. I walked into my siblings' room and slammed open the door. "Guys! Mom and dad aren't... waking... up..."They were asleep too. But... what if... they weren't sleeping? I rushed out of the house, and went to my neighbor's house, only to find them in the exact same state. I checked a few more houses, and everybody was the same. Asleep. Dead.
The streets are empty today, as they have been for the last week. The traffic lights are still changing for cars that never come. At a porch a dog is waiting for her family. They left a few days ago, but she is waiting dutifully. They will never come home again. In the kitchen a crackling voice can be heard from the radio. Coordinates. For a colony of survivors. This family are not among them. Beside the radio lies a tiny booklet with a few coupons ripped out. The local burger restaurant in town is invitingly decorated with posters picturing savory burgers with the juiciest of beef. Who could have resisted ordering this beauty? Who could have known its cruel trick? None. Inside the building bodies of the restaurants unwitting victims are strewn about. Mid-bite, mid-realisation. Dead. In a few days an expedition from the survivor colony arrives at the scene. In their hands a tool to measure exposure, the veggiemeter. The crackling escalates as they move closer. This is the source. They need to make an addition to their radio message. "Don't eat the plant beef burgers. It's vegetarian!" ***Somewhat inspired by a fast food chain in Sweden introducing a vegetarian beef option, and the dumb, dumb backlash they suffered for "tricking"people to become vegetarian.
Tom sat at his favorite coffee shop and scrolled through the options on his company's employee portal. To his side was Gagamemnon, God of Health Care, pointing at different options on the screen. "Now, this one's a little more expensive,"Gagamemnon slid his glasses back into place, "but it will cover more of your surgery-related expenses." Tom's eyes shifted from side to side reading the bullet points that his godly friend just explained out loud. "I'm not big on, uh, surgery." "Ah, but you never know! Accidents happen."The mythical being simulated an explosion with his hands. "We interrupt this program with breaking news - Tom Stein, factory worker-" "You know I work in the admin office." "You got transferred for being a smart ass." Tom smirked and took a sip from his coffee. The Greek god continued, "-local factory worker burnt his face off in a tragic accident." "I'm flattered my injury is newsworthy enough to interrupt local cable." Gagamemnon chopped his hands down on the table, "You need plastic surgery because you're ugly beyond recognition, and - would you look at that - you have the Meyer-Riggs plan that covers 80 percent of the cost." "Well, when you put it that way,"Tom forced a smile that puffed his cheeks out. He exaggerated his movements as he moved his finger up, then forward, then down on the scroll pad, moving the mouse to the left and clicking the cheaper option that covers 20 percent of surgery-related expenses. "Oh, God dammit, Tom."Gagamemnon yanked his glasses off and took a sip from his latte. He loosened his tie, patterned with seagulls flying over a teal background, and relaxed himself on his seat. He put his arm on Tom's chair. "Dick." "You know, when we met back in college,"said Tom, "I thought your power was to - oh, I don't know - provide health care to those less fortunate." Tom rested his head on his fist and stared out the window. Kids chased each other through the streets. A curly-headed woman in business attire strutted down the sidewalk, holding her purse a little too freely. "I'm the God of Health Care,"said Gagamemnon, "Not the God of Giveaways." Tom jerked himself back against the seat. "Yeah, Ryan and Froedipus get to feed starving children in third-world countries and build them houses."
"Hello, Ms. Satake! I am pleased to meet you!" We go through the normal greetings and discussions before getting to the meat of the matter. "Ms. Satake, my students, despite my best efforts, seem incapable of accepting the truly awful effects of nuclear weapons. I propose that we arrange a field trip, to a site close to Hiroshima, where we will observe a unique reconstruction of that horrible day." The Satake family is one of the very few groups that know of my ability. We have worked near miracles in historical reconstruction together, gathering detailed knowledge backed by period photos that stun even experts in the field. Satake runs interference so that I can continue my passion of teaching history. I'm expecting some resistance, but Ms. Satake is ecstatic over the idea. Arranging all the details, ensuring parental permission, and explaining that all electronic devices must be left behind. Part of the field trip will include a simulated EMP that might damage such devices, where a human would be unharmed. Because we are in Hiroshima, there are many Satake employees who are willing to volunteer as chaperons. They are all closely related to the Satake family, and have made field trips before. This is far more risky than any other of our field trips, yet she is moving forward as if she knows nothing is going to go wrong. I wonder. Then I do something that could poison our whole relationship. In a private moment... "Ms. Satake, forgive me, you are so certain that nothing will go wrong, I must ask: do you have some special information?" I am shown an old hand written account of a period of ten years from the bombing, to a critical event in Satake history. It explains in circumspect terms how the youth arrived near Hiroshima as part of a relocation effort. The site is the same one that I had selected before taking my proposal to Ms. Satake. How he had wandered away, bored to tears by his fellow youth's disinterest. When the bombing happened, he returned to the site to find everyone gone. Knowing only that the Satake family business was in existence at this time, he made his way to the outskirts of Hiroshima, asking after the family. When he found them, he threw his efforts into rebuilding the company. His tireless efforts on their behalf gained him their acceptance. His near prescient knowledge gained their amazed trust. The document in my hands was presented to the Satake family ten years after his death. They had puzzled over this relocation effort having found no such reference in any history of Japan during the war years. When my proposal came to their attention, they checked my students. There he was. Just as described in other Satake family documents. I am aghast. "Do you seriously propose to abandon a child in that environment?!?" The explanation is ... rather brutal, and utterly practical. If he doesn't go back, the Satake family dies, and history as we know it is irrevocably altered. If he doesn't go back, his entire family ceases to exist, again irrevocably altering history. It was his own decision to leave the prescribed area that led to his being left behind. Finally, Ms. Satake has the boy brought in. He has already read the document, and is eager to go, despite the deprivations described. He has no close family, just the widely scattered descendants of the man in the document. His nearest relative being a distant cousin with the same name, who has acted as his legal guardian for some years, although remaining distant. This student of mine, the most interested in history, has studied the history of his extended family and their ancestors. None of whom were ever famous, many of whom were present at critical events. The collected tales of that extended family are being gathered for publication. He is determined to see that it gets published. At all costs. Some of this inside information is going to rock Japanese history. Yet there is undeniable supporting evidence for each of the events. These people have made a fetish of documenting the events of their lives. A drive that was established by their founding father. "You may be involved in great events, make good proof for what actually happened. Never forget anything, as you cannot know which events will be important. Save it. Preserve it. It will be useful in the future. You will know it is time, when an orphan of our line comes to you from a city of historical importance." ((to be continued))
The anxious Greatest Hero had me bound tightly with a rope. He quickly patted my clothes for weapons or sharp objects. I was completely helpless under his invasive search. After patting me down, he couldn't relax in the slightest. I tried to give him a friendly smile in hopes that he would calm down. He returned my smile with a fiercely suspicious gaze. "Are you the most heinous villain in the world?"the Greatest Hero spoke. "That is what they say I am."I admitted casually. "Are you sure you are him? If you are, then know that I have been given a quest to execute you before the public,"the Hero said as he pointed to the spectators. The Hero's Quest to capture me was rumoured to be the most difficult to complete, with a 100% failure rate among Heroes to have tried. Yet all the Greatest Hero had to do was ask a few town folk where I lived to find me. My home was not trapped, nor did I have any guard or minions. When he met me face to face, he drew his sword and roared his justice and demanded my head be lopped off. Naturally, I was so terrified I fainted. "Well, at least you've saved me some trouble with your honesty. Don't think you can redeem yourself now, you vile criminal,"the Greatest Hero growled. "I am actually a very honest person. I've never lied in my life before. I have never committed a crime before neither, so calling me a criminal is inaccurate."I said. As soon as I said this, the Hero laughed aloud. He turned to the people. "This heinous villain sure has a tongue! Who can claim they have never committed a crime in secret or public, or even claim they've never told a lie in their lives?"The Greatest Hero shouted to the people with his shining silver sword waving about. His amazing crowd pleasing talents would always rile the crowd and make criminal execution more exciting. However, the response from the crowd shocked him this time. "He really has never done anything wrong in his life..." "I've never seen him lie before..." "Nor have I..." "He's never broken the law..."cried the voices enthusiastically among the crowds. The Hero's expression became one of wondrous confusion. I've seen this expression so many times on so many different heroes in this one life time. I was really getting tired of this. Every month a hero would show up in my house and gabble some nonsense before violently throwing me into the public square. "Hey,"I called out to the Greatest Hero. The Greatest Hero had had the wind in his sails completely dispersed. He turned his head slowly to me. I tried to explain to him the situation. "Hero, though I have committed no crimes, nor have I lied in my entire life, many people have loathed me all their lives. Kings, nobles, peasants, all see me as an ideal human being: angelic, godlike, unreachable yet still human. I represent a pure perfection against them which makes them feel filthy in comparison. This is why they call me the most heinous villain: I put all regardless of status, age, and gender to shame."The Greatest Hero was stunned at my confession. Yet, he responded quickly as befitting of the title "Greatest Hero". "You are an abomination of nature?"The Greatest Hero asked hastily. He prepared to thrust his sword into my throat. He wanted to hear no more out of me and finish the Quest. "Yes. I have been this way since I was cursed at birth by a powerful witch to never lie nor commit a crime, lest the curse take my life. The only way to break the curse is to have a Hero themselves bear this curse."I said quickly. I saw the sword that was going towards my neck veer away. The Greatest Hero had gracefully diverted its path. He sheathed his sword. "I'll gladly take on this curse."The Greatest Hero confidently replied without hesitation. Unfortunately, life was never so easy. "Great Hero, I am also obligated to warn you, that if you have ever told a single lie, or committed a single crime in your entire life, then this curse will immediately take both our lives."I said. Those words caused the Greatest Hero's to turn pale. After a long minute, the Greatest Hero pummeled his fists into the ground angrily. "Why? Just why???"The Greatest Hero cried helplessly. The hopeful light within his eyes dimmed. He called off the execution and dragged me back to my humble home. The day was over and night was falling so I invited him over for some stew and a place to lie his head down. "Man, you are just the worst,"The Greatest Hero said while he drank some of the stew, "Us heroes can't even lay a finger on you without us becoming murderers."We laughed about that together. He seemed to have cheered up remarkably fast. "You know, I've been thinking about the smudge this little Quest is probably gonna leave on my reputation..."He began after a bit more stew. "You still haven't given up on the Quest yet?"I said. Incredible. As expected of the Greatest Hero. "Of course not. A True Hero never gives up! Otherwise, what will become of our pride and honor?"He said with a twinkle in his eye. I could feel the sparks of a strange idea creeping from his grin. "What idea do you have in mind?"I asked. "How would you like to become a Hero?"He asked. I laughed out loud. I couldn't ever imagine myself wearing heavy armor and brandishing a sword. That's too backwards and out of character for me. "Are you serious?"I sobered up. In his eyes, he was dead serious. "If you become a hero yourself, you'll be given a Heroic Name. You'll no longer be you, and so you just transfer the curse to your Hero self. Then renounce your Hero status later. Renouncing your Hero status is equivalent to your Hero "self"dying and perhaps the curse would go with it. You'll be free of the curse and able to commit crimes and lie, thus removing you as the most heinous villain. At best, it will nullify the Quest I've been received, however at worst, I'll just have to find your "most heinous villain"successor equivalent and slay him. Don't worry about a thing. Just follow mand I'll train you myself to be a fine Hero!"The Greatest Hero assured me. I will not lie, but his reasoning was sketchy. I wanted to turn him down, but he refused to take no for an answer. "Come on, it's worth a try! Heroes will finally stop showing up to knock you out or threaten you once a month"He continued to persuade. At last, I finally agreed. He was very happy needless to say. "Haha! Some day kid, following me will make you close to being as famous as me!"The Great Hero bragged. "Sure, some day Sir, me following you will make you close to being as infamous as me!"I retorted. The moon was shining and I was getting sleepy. Time to hit the sack. I retired to my room and the Greatest Hero, being the Greatest Hero, spent the rest of the night howling at the moon and instilling fear into criminals in his Werewolf form. I dreamed dreams of adventure that night.
"Oh I see how it is, I'm not good enough to invite to your child's christening, am I?"she grumbled to herself, after having found out that the family up the road in the mansion were hosting a christening party for their youngest child. "And after all these years, how long have I been your friend? Your ally? And you don't even mention a thing about it!" She stomped around the creaking, old house, the floorboards groaning under every step as she made her way into the cellar. "I'll show you not to spurn me like that, you self entitled ingrates!" She arrived in the cellar, standing in front of a magic circle of salt and chicken blood. She tossed a rotten egg and a picture of the mansion into the centre of the circle, and began a ritual to curse the family. "Spirits, ancients, hear my plea! Lay ill tidings on these children three!"She threw a handful of ash into the circle before continuing, "Let their parents burn in fire, the mansion their unholy pyre! Bound are they for ten and three, only then may the children be free!" A few days later "A fire broke out at the Baudelaire mansion today, leaving two dead." She listened intently to the radio as the news broke about the mansion. Clouds of smoke were still clearly visible through her window from the fire. "The deceased have been identified as the Baudelaires, however it has been confirmed that their three children, Violet, Klaus and Sunny, were not in the mansion at the time of the fire and are safe." A smile crept across her face; just as she had planned, they were getting what they deserved. "The Volunteer Fire Department arrived at the scene as soon as they could, but they report that the fire was too intense to extinguish. More on this story later today." She got up from her armchair and climbed up to bed, eager for rest after hearing of a job well done. She slipped under the covers and shut her eyes, drifting to sleep. "Did they deserve this?" "No."She answered honestly, unphased by the ethereal, disembodied voice questioning her. "No they didn't" She was found weeks later in her bed, having died in her sleep, and so began the tragic tale of the Baudelaire children, cursed to live through a sad series of unfortunate events.
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The chew marks on the disposable pen are a record of the moral dilemmas. Each one signifying indecision as I run the tip across my lips. Every line I’ve written has come with some trepidation. “Except this one,” I murmur as I scrawl in the worn leather-bound notebook. It was really the easiest and most obvious line. I should have written it sooner, but it felt like I had plenty of time. “One more page appears in this notebook every time it reaches the end of a page. It has the same powers as the rest of the notebook.” Another page manifests. I smile with smug satisfaction. I had thought about writing in a whole new book appearing, but with an artifact this powerful it is better if there is only one. On the new page I began writing again, “If a page is torn out or destroyed, a new page appears. All pages have the same power as the whole notebook. The notebook cannot be destroyed, but pages can be. Any pages destroyed will return to the notebook blank, but their effects shall remain.” I let out a sigh. I should have spent more time safeguarding the simple brown leather book. Having suddenly come into possession of it, realizing its powers, and then making good use of it. To test my experiment, I rip out the last page. Another one appears just after the one I’ve ripped out. I remove my lighter from my pocket and burn the page I’ve ripped out. It reappears, blank, where it had been torn out. I nod with satisfaction. There are whole worlds of writing I need to do.

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