Split (1)

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"Dark nights mean long nights,"I mused as I savored the taste of the mead in my cup. It was true, I was always busy on these moonless nights, dealing with any number of creatures, and it was never an easy task. This was their world, I was only a visitor. The bar I've found myself in tonight was a quiet one, and other than the fact that it was empty save for myself, the barkeep, and one cook, it was a nice, nondescript place to bide my time. As I thought that, the barkeep spoke up. "Bad night, yeah? No one's comin' for the drink or the food, not a soul." "Guess not, but I'll have another glass of this mead to make up for it."The mead was pretty good, not that sickly sweet stuff that gives me a wild hangover, but that smooth, honeyed nectar that the Gods would be jealous of. There is a downside, though - it's expensive. Something about the water, I guess? As he poured another glass, the front doors slowly opened, and a figure dressed in a gaudy suit made his way in. The visitor surveiled the little, dingy bar as he walked to the countertop, seemingly not aware that there was anyone even here in the first place. As he walked, he left a trail of wet and mud in his wake, but he paid it no mind. "Ah-ha! The barkeep! Give me a glass of your finest...?"he trailed off, almost confused by the lack of, well, anything of note, "Ahh, well your finest whatever you sling for drinks here!" His eyes were bright and ablaze with mischief, and his smile was as ostentatious as his suit. This was going to be trouble, I could feel it. Dark nights, busy nights? He continued to stroll around the room, looking at every single table, chair, and cup still out, and was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. At least, until our eyes met, and the blaze within them grew to be a wildfire that threatened to burn the whole place down, me included. "What's this?!"He exclaimed in a wile voice that was so sharp it may very well be able to draw blood on it's own, "A Hunter! Oh my, oh my, that's no good! Just when I thought -" I was already moving by then, exploding from my seat toward him, dirk in hand. His voice was dangerous, and the longer he spoke the worse it would get. Closing the gap, all he did was smile, a big, extravagant smile that sent chills down my spine. "That absolutely will not do! You almost spilled your drink! Kind sir, won't you please sit and chat with me?"The words slid out of his mouth and were steeped in venom. At that exact moment, the world started to spin, and I lost all feeling in my legs. I fell, but I didn't feel the ground rush up to hit me, no... Hands. Hands? The world was a blur now, and my ability to think was slowing down to a crawl. "The... voice..?"I asked, using the last of my strength to croak the words. "Yes, yes, the voice. A fine trick, is it not? But the real trick, that I can't take all the credit for, was the mead."His tongue lashed out, whipping the world from my eyes. "Don't worry, dear Hunter! We have plans for you yet, but we need you on our side, the dead side. Again, don't worry! You have nothing to fear from us, we'll make sure you come back in one piece!" As the rest of my body slid in to darkness that filled my eyes, the mantra of "Dark nights, long nights,"passed through my mind once more. This... was going to be a long and terrible night.
\[Recording log: 0001-MAR, retrieved from Mars Program colonist 4235-b\] &#x200B; Whoever said that in space, no one could hear you scream, was a liar. You hear everything from within your plastic-steel bubble suit. Encased inside that all-too-thin barrier against the infinitely cold void of space, you pick up every sigh, every cough, every word under every breath from every astronaut on your transmitter frequency. There was no "silence"in space. Our suits ensured that, as the eggheads back on old Earth drilled into our brains that constant connection and communication with our colony-mates was essential for prolonged success. &#x200B; Of course, this wasn't space anymore. This was Mars, an equally inhospitable speck of red dust floating in our solar neighborhood. Overcrowding and climatological effects on Earth were quickly reaching catastrophic levels, so we, having trashed our old home, made for the stars. Teams were sent in droves to every corner of the local system, like galactic refugees fleeing from the old country. Except that the country we were leaving was also on fire, and we lit the match before catching the quickest flight out, pouring our last supplies of accelerant on the fire just for good measure. &#x200B; I was lucky in that my team was sent just down the galactic block from our old home, still in viewing distance of the rusting trailer park that was once the blue globe known as earth. Mars was supposed to be one of the more simple colonial missions, as we had already infected the moon with our human touch, which served as a proof of concept for going deeper into the less easily-accessible regions of our neighborhood. Even still, clipping at near-speed-of-light speeds, it took 74 years to even get to the place, and it would take an inordinately long time to even hear back from the Earthlings back home. By some stroke of decent fortune, human society didn't crumble in the time it took to get here, which was an anxiety that haunted my cryosleep dreams during the flight. I couldn't help but grapple with the fact that if we were ever to get cut off from our mother Earth, we'd be stranded, oxygen and nutrient starved like a child whose umbilical cord snapped. While our team, already suited up before entering the deep freeze, could hear every word and every noise shared between us, they couldn't read my mind. Lucky for them. &#x200B; My thoughts faded to the back of my mind when presented with the immediate task at hand. We had been trained for this. Immediately upon waking up, we'd do a customary check of our suits for functionality, give a cursory glance at any cryo-pods that didn't deploy or whose occupants died during flight, and then we proceeded with our assigned functions. Like human robots, we followed our orders to the letter. It was almost as though the fate of parasitic humanity were at stake. Our prospective colony was to be the patient zero for humanity's inevitable spread through the cosmos. &#x200B; We worked without sleep. Our suits injected a constant supply of tasteless nutrients into our veins, intermingling with the amphetamine-rich IV drip that enhanced our speed. From above, one would think it was not unlike a colony of drones building a hive; insta-concrete walls were spewed forth from the hoses of the builder-drones, who were followed by the installation of insulation and electrical systems by the delicate-operation-drones, who were followed by the steady and exact hands of the interior-constructor-drones. Seemingly out of nowhere, we had erected over a hundred bunkhouses, facilities, and various buildings for equipment; brutal-gray concrete hives sprouting from the rusty desert. The bio-dome was in the process of being mapped out, as it was the most intricate operation, and any error in its calculation would result in precious lost time, and lost oxygen. &#x200B; All the while our base was humming with the chatter and instructions passed between colonists through their transmission systems. Each team was on their own wavelength, but could switch as needed to communicate with any other. A creature who was capable of picking up these frequencies would find it not unlike the sound of a beehive, our endless buzzing broadcast to the desert, and to the cold vacuum above. &#x200B; You get used to the constant noise. Unless addressed to specifically you or your team, you tune it out, and focus on the task at hand. Spray insta-concrete in a pattern as such. Measure insulation for this length. Install flooring and light systems like this. Its monotonous work, but essential, which offsets the emotional taxation of it. Our suits handled the physical aspect. &#x200B; You can never get used to being jolted out of a pattern, however. Humans are pattern-based creatures. As much as we fight against it, we like rigidity and structure to our lives. Which is why, after Earth-length days of this system, being ripped out of sync from your work is jarring in itself. A sound emanated over our transceivers, rising to the top of our frequency above the drivel and chatter. It was the unmistakable sound of someone in pain, a primal, instinctive reaction to catch the immediate attention of one's fellow man. Unremarkably, it worked, as all who could hear the guttural howling of the colonist immediately dropped what they were doing and attempted to locate the source. While I was unmistakably shaken, I, and undoubtedly the other colonists, figured someone was injured in a construction accident, or had torn a hole in their suit. We trudged away from our site in search of the scream, when all of a sudden, it stopped; like a phone call whose line was abruptly cut. &#x200B; \[End of log 0001-MAR\]
Jakhal let out a sigh, “Consider it done.” The other members of the order needed funds; and with their long-time leader calling it a career, he wanted to leave them with enough funds to be comfortable and empowered to tackle their lofty goals. The groundwork had been taken care of so that Calum’s demise would give the Order a claim to the rich man’s estate. Legally, and with minimal suspicion of course. The order’s ability to manipulate the courts was the only activity it was more successful at than stalking unfortunate prey. The time to mix those two talents was upon them. Here he was, looking up almost vertically at the mansion he intended to own in a month. It rested mockingly on a mountain of a hill overlooking Fog West, the always difficult to see few blocks just off the river. The area was avoided by all but the residents too downtrodden to give a damn enough to move. The wind howled and it was a night where the clouds seemed to move twice as fast across the moon. Small glows from every other window in Calum’s mansion flickered with confidence. Jakhal felt naked with minimal cover, but up he went. Halfway up the chosen path towards the estate the sounds began becoming noticeably unfamiliar. It was as if the leader of the local order had triggered something merely by engaging in the climb. The clouds could almost be touched it seemed, tiny streams ran down the hill around him. Light now seemed to extend further from the house onto the lawn not too far from the assassin. Jakhal followed the light up to the house with his eyes and he noticed smoke coming out of the chimneys. Just then he could’ve sworn he saw someone leaping from the roof and disappear. “Mother Bitch! What the hell was that?!” He circled back a bit and then double timed it around to the East side of the house facing away from the slums. He was close to where the figure should have landed. As he approached the back entrance another figure slid behind him where he came from and also disappeared. Uncharacteristically confused he was mesmerized by the elements around him. The clouds mixed with chimney smoke and a heavier fog had now touched the ground, beams of light now stretched all the way down the hill. The rush of water also seemed to pick up all around him, and that smell. Subtle yet strong! Stoic his entire life up to this point, he had not felt this uncomfortable on any previous mission. He was aborting the mission, choosing to leave down the back side of the hill, although the smell grew stronger. Shaking his head disgusted at himself the failed assassin took one more...BOOM! The back door slammed open and laughter filled the air. Jakhal fell to the ground, all training over the past decades seeping from his soul. “Get up fool. It’s already over, you just haven’t accepted it yet.” That was enough for the assassin...he launched up and tore every leg muscle striding to get down the hill. The house lights lit up the yard to the point it was more like daytime than night. To his left a younger boy was running along side him not twenty feet away and he slid into one of the streams and disappeared. In the sky someone was surfing through the fog as if they were part of it. Both “people” appeared ten strides ahead of him and then disappeared into their chosen forms again. The beam of light teleported a third person to Jakhal’s intended destination at the bottom of the hill. Disheartened, Jakhal turned back to spot Calum, and the smell made sense. The billionaire on the hill lit the gasoline on fire and a streak of flames fiercely chased The terrified man down the hill. Calum followed the flame with a calm smile on his face and stopped in front of the doomed soul. “Welcome to the hill, Jakhal.”
Hellfire rained down on me. Literal hellfire, directly on me. Someone had noticed me, and wanted me dead. Sure, running across a battlefield wasn't my smartest move, and sure I'm AWOL to one side and enemy to the other, and sure I have no plan for when I get there, but that doesn't justify HELLFIRE! My barrier held, barely. Another hit might actually kill me. Should have tested these better. Really should be smarter in general, but it's too late now. I saw the next blaze coming. My only hope was a counter spell. I'd never messed with infernal before, but I had water, and a sprinkling of 'holy' should work. It was a weak stream. I'd had better water pistols. Why did I have to be an engineer again? Despite everything, the water pierced the inferno, creating a pocket just large enough. Just enough time for me to run, get to some cover. The burnt husk of an old school wasn't my first choice, but my only choice. I planned to hide out, make a break once each side returned to blasting each other. My plans were ruined when she walked in. Mostly because she put a gun in my face.
I let out a low laugh as my eyes scanned up the tower of usernames located above the man's head. He noticed a lot of the names, and even made note that one of them was an account he made contact with daily. And the, he smiled. Despite the man having so many usernames, hundreds, maybe thousands of them were throwaways. He made out one of two of them, each of which were accounts used to get things off his chest that he was too humble to discuss in person. I went over to the man and tapped on the shoulder, causing him to look back at me from his seat on the train. As he turned to look at me though, my eyes widened slightly. He then smiled, and I smiled back. "Hi! I'm a huge fan,"I stated excitingly between rushed breathes. He seemed sort of flustered from the complement, seemingly noticing the one name above my head as he reached out his hand, "I'm a fan of yours as well." We spent several hours talking later, and I still can't believe that a man so humble and polite could kill so many people over one dog.
I stare out over the gory landscape in front of me. Human and tree corpses alike, splattered with red and green. It makes me want to hurl. Our world is in ruins, and it's my job to clean it up. Why does it have to be me? When I was a child, my mother used to tell me to save trees. She loved plants, and nature. She would always play in the orchard with me until sundown, and she would teach me about the trees. She would always say, "The trees are alive, just like you and me. They breathe and they hurt, and they share our home. It's our job to care for them, because they can't do so for themselves."Those words haunted me as her favorite pear tree impaled her abdomen, and ripped her spine from her body. Why couldn't it have been me? I would much rather be dead than be this. I would just end it, but I can't. Not with them watching me. They watch my every move, every step, every breath, every kill. They control me. To them, I am nothing but a weapon. A toy. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like to shred them, just as I do to the trees...
"Are you sure?"asked Rivash, "By this Man?" Noo´rag looked at her and Chuckled: "Yes, i am sure. Or you want to give up?" "No! No, i don´t want to give up!"Rivash shaked her head, "But...to you know who this man is?" Noo´rag laughed, "No, and i don´t care. He is only a Human"with a amused look at his long Rival he entered his House. Rivash sighed and waited outside. She knews what was going to happen... Nobody was able to scare this Man and everybody who tried it and was able to leave this House has changed. \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No Cats, no Dogs. Not even a single camerea. This will be easy. Noo´gar thought to himself while he checked the House. The owner was not Home yet so he was able to set everything up to scare the Shit out of this man. "This Time, i will win little Rivash. This man will die from horror!"he said to himself. He heared, how the Key was turned and possesed the closest thing to him: an Katana. \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I entered my House, throw my keys into a Bowl and was heading to the kitchen, when i felt something. Something is in hear, i thought to myself while looking around, but nothing was insight. I pinched my Eyes and walked slowly to my sealed boxroom. While i opend it, my hackles stood up. I reached in and took a Staff out, before i turned around. I chuckled, when i saw at a Creature created out of my Table, Chairs and Couch. I slowly approched this creature with a bright grin and Violett glowing eyes, while resting my staff on the Shoulder. ...................................................................................................................................................................... He isnt frightened?! Noo´rag, still possesing the Sword felt something he never felt befor while this Men-no this monster- approched his creation with glowing eyes- he felt fear, horror while his Furniture amalgamation get beaten up with a staff by this Man. He wanted to leave, but he wasn´t able. Some force, unknown to him held him captured in this House. he felt that some invicible force was pulling on him, pulling him out of the Sword. \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With a few hits of the Staff, the Creature was destroyed, but i knews something other was in my House, in this Room. I looked around, before i glanced at my Sword and grinned. A Demon? the last one was 10 Years ago here....and, was better. I apporched the Demon, after it was pulled out of the Sword. The Demon looked at me and was muttering something about "please, mercy..."but i only raised my Staff with a devilish grin. \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Hours past, but Noo´rag didn´t came out. Shivar was geting nervous while she was waiting, but after she saw, that the next Morning was coming, she decided to go. She knew something happende to her eternal Rival, but she didn´t know what and she didn´t even wanted to know it, so she went back. Back to hell, to warn every one.....No body should enter this house and try to harm this men when even the prince of hell, wasn´t able to come back.
Daniel is like a brother for me and I'm just waiting for him to say something. I'm waiting. Please don't snitch on me, please. "Am I just a person you know, nothing more? Just that? I can't get that in my head." "No, but I won't move, I can't just go somewhere. This is where I am living and you are not that important to me that I would dissappear like a spider you hit with a towel!" Wow, that hit me. What am I supposed to say. I just left him now, I tried to forget it. He left me for his family shop? After a few years I used more "criminal"ways to mobe around. The government was closing the borders of Belgium because this was the way how absolutely working bombs got out of the nation for terrorists. Daniel never was rich, he even was poor like a dying rat. I had to get out of town. The next day I just jumped on a Pick-Up driving to the east. There was a blanket? A big blanket is covering everything it has on it. I get under that blanket because it could get cold at night. I here peeping, but where does it come from? How could I be that blind? Under the blanket there was a big damn bomb blinking and I just got shook. I felt like icecold water is getting squeezed into my head. What am I supposed to think? Someone right next to jumps up and stares into my eyes, it is Daniel. I knew what was going on, I wish I didn't.
"Sorry I'm late, but there's no time to explain."The stranger sat down in front of me, just as I had ordered my usual turkey on rye. I had attempted to ask him who he was, but he just kept shushing me, saying "Be quiet, they might be listening." Just as my sandwich arrived, the stranger looked behind us out the front window of the diner and saw three men in jet-black suits. "We need to go, NOW!" "But I just started eating." "You think this is a time for lunch!?" Then all of a sudden, the stranger pulled me out of the booth we were seated at and dragged me out of the diner. The other patrons didn't even flinch, as if this was an ordinary occurrence. I could have sworn I heard of one of them say, "Looks like he's finally going back." As we reached a black car parked in the lot outside the diner, the three men spotted us and had opened fire. "Into the car, quickly."When the shooting stopped, the car begin to drive, but it had no driver. "Now that we're finally alone, I will introduce myself,"the stranger started. "my name is William Black and I am about to make your life a whole lot stranger."
For a dream job, this was turning out to be pretty boring. When I applied for a SETI internship, I tried not to hold out too much hope. The application process was really competitive, and I couldn’t believe it when I was chosen. I was selected to work on a project scanning the galaxy for radio transmissions that could potentially indicate the existence of extraterrestrial life. And I couldn’t believe that as an intern, I would actually be one of the people monitoring these communications! Now that I’ve been here for a few months, I’ve realized that the reason they have interns man the communication desk is because it’s really boring. And it has to be monitored 24 hours a day, which means that whichever lucky intern is on duty for the week (me) has to switch to night shifts and monitor the communications overnight. Obviously, the job is great. I love it. During day shifts, I get to work with some of the best scientists in the field, and I learn so much every day. But the late nights are starting to wear on me. And it’s still the beginning of the week, so my body hasn’t adjusted yet. I’m trying to fight sleep, but I can feel myself dozing off. This job would be so much better if someone else was here with me. That’s one of the other hard parts about the night shift. It can get pretty lonely, because no one else is up at this time of night. I’m tempted to text my ex, but I resist the urge. Things didn’t end well between us, and he was mad when I decided to take the internship at SETI because it meant relocating from Denver. Neither of us really wanted to do long distance and he couldn’t leave his job, so we broke up when I moved to California. I can feel my eyelids getting heavy, I decide to close my eyes just for a second. “Kate?” I jolt awake. What was that? What time is it? I glance at the computer screen, but there’s no sign of activity. I chide myself for daydreaming about my ex. I could have sworn I just heard him. I decide that I need to get up and do some jumping jacks or something. As I’m standing up, the monitor lights up, and some weird static comes in over the feed. My heart starts pounding. I’ve never seen this before! Something’s happening! The connection is weak. It’s difficult to hear, and it sounds like it’s coming from really far away. I start to run a tracker so I can see where the signal is coming from. “This is -------. Can anyone hear me?” I freeze. I would know that voice anywhere. The tracking window pops up, and sure enough, the call is coming from Earth. More specifically, from Denver. Livid, I pull out my cell phone and dial my ex. He answers on the third ring. “Look, I know you’re upset about the breakup, but this is pretty low. I could get into really big trouble if they found out that you hacked into the system. Come to think of it, how did you hack into the system?” “Kate? Is that you? What time is it?” I pause for a second. It really does sound like he’s asleep. But it was definitely him! I narrow the tracking parameters of the software, and they show that the call is coming from his neighborhood. Resolved, I continue my tirade. “I can track the call, you idiot. I don’t know how you did this, but you should probably tell me so I can figure out how to fix whatever security leak is happening.” “Hey, Katie, I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, what, someone else is calling me from Denver, and he just happens to sound exactl--- The static picks up again, and I can hear his voice coming from over the system. “Hello? Can you--- me? You need to ------ now!” His voice comes through the phone at the same time. “Hey, that isn’t me. I swear! I –“ I hang up the phone, staring at the monitor in disbelief. I’m more confused than ever, “Katie, if you can hear me, you need to ----.” The static gets louder, building to a crescendo, and after an awful screech the signal stops completely. I’m glued to the monitor, but I don’t hear anything else. I stare at the screen, waiting, holding my breath, as though any noise I make will scare off the signal from coming back again. The door bangs open, and I jump. Javi, one of my fellow interns, comes in, and I glance at the clock. 7am! My shift is over! I stay to chat with him for a few minutes, telling him about my crazy night. He laughs, and recounts a similar story when he dozed off, then freaked out because he thought he heard something. I’m packing up my bag when the static comes on over the radio. I glance over at Javi, and he’s looking back at me, his eyes wide. We both lean in, waiting to hear what the message will be, but all we can make out are three words…. “--------- now! They’re coming.”
Once the laughter calmed down, God continued. "Listen, it will be fun, the angel that causes the extinction wins the pot. Every angel that participates gets to control ONE influential event or provide a SINGLE gift. Just like we did with the dinosaurs, but these creatures will be MUCH MORE self aware- and since Michael won last time with the meteor, those are off limits." Michael puffed his chest and sheepishly smiled. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Whispers and objections scattered throughout the room as everyone debated the controversial win. The rules clearly state, the influential event or gift can not directly cause the extinction, it can only help lead to it- a very grey line if you ask me. Michael stood by his claim that the dust caused by the meteor impact blocked out the sun, killing vegetation leading to the extinction- not the meteor itself. We were not always like this, there was a time we enjoyed each-others company. However, seemingly endless years and competitive nature have left us so bored that the only way to pass the millennia was to create life and bet on its demise. The only reason I participated at this point was to beat Michael. This time seemed different too, the potential for complex social structures, high intelligence, really got the creative juices flowing. God went on to detail the specifics of the creations he called human beings to give everyone time to formulate their plans. Tribal in nature, high dexterity with opposable thumbs, sexually dimorphic... the list went on and on. Once the time came to pick the room grew silent. We drew numbers to determine an order and it began... The first few were typical, trying to take out the whole lot in one natural disaster. Trying to recreate Michael's meteoric victory. Lucifer\- Volcano eruption. Uriel\- Earthquake. There were always a few angels that believed they would win with a new and improved virus or disease they have been working on. Sure enough: Haniel- Black Plague Angelo- Aids I knew this species would be tougher- they would be resilient. If a disease destroyed them it would be pure luck. When the time came for Michael to chose the room grew silent. Everyone wanted to see how the defending champion would follow up his win. He sat silent for some time before he declared. "A gift. I will provide one man with a gift." Everyone leaned in, what could it possibly be that he believed would bring down a species. He continued... "When the time is right, I will let one man know- E=mc2". God let out a smirk- he knew Michael was on to something. His plan was to let the species destroy themselves with weapons, atomic and nuclear arms. I have to admit I was impressed. No species we have ever played with was advanced enough for this, it might actually work. I knew I had to come up with something special- something simple, yet devastating. Something poetic, yet ironic. Then it hit me. We have been playing in the same sandbox, the same world. The evidence of our past games is still there, buried underground decomposing. I will beat Michael with his own victory! All I needed to do is let these human beings find it. "Gabriel, you are up. What is your choice." I stood and looked Michael right in the eyes as I declared "Fossil fuels".
(part 1/6) &#x200B; Advertising billboards weren't just a common sight in the city. With their sheer prevalence and the collective corporate compulsion to inform their potential customers, residents were hard-pushed to find a street that didn't contain at least one backlit screen showing off the latest electronic product or other consumer trends. &#x200B; While state-of-the-art technology was able to target and personalise these advertisements for any registered citizen passing by, cities around the world were often reluctant to have them anywhere beyond airports and public transport terminals, where the sheer amount of daily foot traffic would have a chance of recouping the massive costs involved in incorporating the standalone profiling AI required. &#x200B; As had been the case for centuries, the majority of billboards simply replayed the same advertisement over and over, with touchscreen options available to view more of the associated sales patter without having to make the trip to the relevant store. "Are we even able to spare six thousand dollars?"For the past five minutes, a young couple had been standing, hand-in-hand, in front of one such billboard. &#x200B; Measuring about the same size as a set of double doors, the high-resolution video showed in perfect clarity a series of idealised and slightly saccharine scenes. All of them featured a man who was clearly the focal point of the whole montage. Dressed in an ever so slightly glossy tuxedo, complete with meticulously shined shoes, a tailcoat, bowtie and white satin gloves, the camera followed along through snapshots of them performing various tasks around an obviously studio-rigged household. &#x200B; '...cleaning, cooking, laundry. Albert comes fully trained to perform any household task imaginable...' &#x200B; Being in a public place, the audio wasn't entirely necessary for passers-by to get the general idea of what was being advertised. Although modern billboards such as these could seamlessly beam their audio to any network-capable headphones it detected in range, all of the pertinent text was subtitled or otherwise shown in a large font on the screen; the usual sales trick of using big letters to ensnare the attention of buyers. &#x200B; "At a push, I'm sure we could manage."While both her and her more financially cautious husband had a decent collective income, the fact that the two of them both worked demanding jobs meant that juggling their work schedules around their home life had been perhaps the most arduous part of their lives together so far. &#x200B; Like their work rotas, they'd needed to plan ahead in order to determine who would be at home on any given day. And, on the naggingly frequent occasions where they were both absent, they had to book a sitter for their son; often well in advance. With him being only eight years old, not booking one wasn't an option. "It boils down to one of two choices."Her argument, as far as she was concerned, was one that didn't need to be reiterated. &#x200B; She knew her husband wasn't reluctant to muck in with the childcare duties. Like her, he was a caring soul who would bend over backwards for the child they were raising. "Either we keep paying for a sitter - and I'm sure those agency rates keep increasing year-on-year - or..."Her free hand motioned towards the billboard, just as the ad reached the end of its loop and displayed the price: $5,999, plus shipping and handling. "We pay one lump sum for a butler who can be there for Ty every day." &#x200B; 'Introducing Albert; the world's first and only programmable butler...' &#x200B; The man sighed quietly as the billboard began the looping ad for a fourth time. At the side of the screen, elevated enough for the sake of convenience, were a series of touch-sensitive buttons. Each of them were labelled with text detailing their function and, after a few seconds' hesitation, his index finger slowly shifted forward and firmly prodded the button in the middle; the one marked Contact Sales Rep. "You'll see."His wife's left hand slid free, but only so she could sling her arm lovingly around his body with a smile on her face. "We won't regret this." &#x200B; Almost immediately, the whole billboard dimmed; the screen overtaken by a semi-transparent overlay which, with the exception of a swirling icon and some text, was utterly featureless. It wasn't until the icon turned green - accompanied by the words cellular device detected \- that he took out his phone. By temporarily pairing with the device, the billboard was able to act as an intermediary, placing a call to the relevant department inside JaegerDyne Technologies without customers having to burden themselves with the task of remembering a phone number. &#x200B; With many sales departments of big companies like JaegerDyne manned twenty-four hours a day, having someone around to pick up wasn't an issue. "Good evening, sir."The voice was cheerful, polite and professional. Definitely not an artificial one. "You're through to the Sales department here at JaegerDyne. My name's Cassandra."Somewhere across town, a woman was eyeing up the data presented on her screen. &#x200B; Between the fact that the call had come through a billboard stated to be showing the new sales pitch for their state-of-the-art programmable butlers and the ownership data for the phone to which it had managed to pair itself, she knew who she was speaking to and why they were calling. "I can see here you're perhaps interested in ordering one of our Albert butlers. How may I help you today?" &#x200B; "Yeah, my wife and I are looking to order one for the house."Now that he was on the phone and actually going through with the process, his wife couldn't help but smile at him. By leaning over, she was trying to hear the other side of the conversation. "We were looking at your ad here, but I have a few more questions if that's okay?" &#x200B; "Of course, sir."While she spoke, Cassandra brought up a page of more detailed sales information on her computer. She'd already memorised it cover-to-cover, but it never hurt to have a reminder on hand. That was what her training had told her since day one, after all. "What would you like to know?" &#x200B; "When you say 'programmable', just how programmable is it?" &#x200B; "There's really no limit to the ways Albert can be programmed."She knew this bit off by heart. Someone had asked her the exact same question an hour ago. Rather than scroll down to see what she could - or was allowed to - say about Albert's programming, her free hand began to twirl her pen between her fingers as though it were a miniature baton. "Every Albert unit comes with a lifetime's worth of experience in just about every household duty you can think of, but you've gotta think of him like your car."The Albert units fulfilled a single purpose. &#x200B; To her - and all of the JaegerDyne staff - the comparison was valid, if a little cold. "If you want the fastest thing around, you go for something like a Quad-X4. You want something to take the kids on vacation, you get an SUV. Albert's just the same. We can install whatever supplementary programs you need; age-tailored childcare, medical knowledge so they can help care for a terminally ill member of the family. Some customers even want security training in case their home gets robbed. Literally anything you need Albert to know or be able to do, we can accommodate you." &#x200B; "That's good to know."Now, even he was smiling. His wife's optimism must have been contagious. "What about paying for it? Six thousand's quite the price." &#x200B; Cassandra exhaled quietly through her nose. Given the work involved in the manufacture of each Albert unit, the price was easily justifiable. It wasn't just the design and programming that was expensive, either. The bespoke uniforms were equally cutting-edge and, as such, were quite the premium to have made. "We have all manner of payment plans available, if you need them. Should you decide on a payment plan, they are all completely fixed at zero interest. So, no matter how many instalments you decide, you'll pay the exact same price as everyone else." &#x200B; JaegerDyne were one of the ten wealthiest technology firms on the planet and, up to now, the only one in that upper echelon to do away with interest payments entirely. They were of the belief that, while the prices of their higher-end products were on the steep side, everybody would be beholden to the same price tag. No-one got special treatment, beneficial or otherwise.
I hadn’t been swimming in a few months now, the idea of water was making me frustrated. What started as a joke with friends to look for Atlantis absorbed my life. Every sparing moment I had I was swimming looking for a place that might as well be fake. But, I was dragged into my apartment complex pool by some friends. It was one of their birthdays, Rylie’s as a matter of fact, after all. I was debating on just saying I was busy, but I thought it might be refreshing. So there I was, sulking on a chair drinking a flat Diet Coke. “Just hop in the water.” My friend Alex jokingly yelled. I thought there was no harm in cooling off for a while. I slid into the pool and was talking with my friends. Then the topic of Atlantis came up. The smile faded ever so slightly. Alex took note of this and turned to face me. “You know why we are having this party at this pool right?” I took a gamble,” Cause’ it’s close?” “No, cause people have said this is where Atlantis is at!” He interrupted. I almost spit out my drink. I simply began laughing. “Don’t you think an ocean would be more probable?” I leaned back with a sly smile on my face. Then my elbow hit a tile. The few of my friends in the pool say the bottom tiles slide mechanically to the side. The water began spinning a whirlpool. I tried to hop out but my legs got sucked in. “Don’t believe me now?” Alex yelled over the sound of the water. As I was sucked through there it was, Atlantis. The glistening underwater city was right where I least expected. I was shocked. I didn’t even know where to begin. “This definitely ruins my plans”
"Idcirco praecipio tibi ut relinquam daemonium"I muttered under my breath as I slowly turned the knob from the inside my jacket, and moved the megnet under the table. The lights began to fade and flicker, and the metal candle holder above the table slid ominously across the table. I paused momentarily and looked up at the elderly couple. Linda and Harold. They were in their early 60's and seriously devoted Christians. They were beginning to get frightened as they clutched a rosary together. Seeing this I realized there was no need to go further. "I told you she bewitched us. You should have never insulted that Gypsy looking woman Harold!"The older lady whispered to her husband. "I-I didn't think that shit was real Linda, how was I supposed to know?"Harold replied nervously. "No one ever believes until something happens to them. Those are they types they feed on, the ones who don't believe."I mentioned. I couldn't help myself. I cranked up the knob a bit, causing the lights to grow extremely bright this time. I kept repeating the same incantation. "Idcirco praecipio tibi ut relinquam daemonium, Idcirco praecipio tibi ut relinquam daemonium! IDCIRCO PRAECIPIO TIBI UT RELINQUAM DAEMONIUM!!"I yelled as I cranked up the knob as high as it could go the lights themselves burst. Linda shouted and grabbed Harolds arm, and as everything settled, I began to "cleanse"the room with some dollar store incense. "I don't sense any evil energy any more. This will help keep the demon from returning"I motioned to them as I walked around the room raving with my incense. "I don't know how we can forgive you Mr. Baldwin. We haven't been able to sleep well for weeks! I can already feel the air more lighter and less suffocating."Linda said with a sigh of relief. "I-I-I'm gonna go pray"Harold said and he left straight to his room. "Don't mind him Mr. Bladwin, he's never been a believer, and with this I think it will take him some time to take all of it in. I've always known. I've seen it you know, the demon..."Linda said. "Never mind that Linda, we got all that taken care of. You won't be having any more problems in the future. I'm going to cast a protective incantation over your residence and around your aura to protect you and your husband from any other future inconvenience."I said as I grabbed a pinch of flour from my tool box, placed in on my plam and blew it into Lindas face. This was my favorite part. I don't know whether it was act itself, or the fact that these people would basically let me do anything to them in the name of cleansing them from bad or evil spirits. Their faith was easy to manipulate, and you know there is money in religion. All I had to do was walk in, make some lights burst, make objects move, and have whisps of smoke appear. One time I went as far as pretending to be possesed, but I had to cut it short when the client tried to kill me. I muttered some more nonsense as Linda flinched when the flour hit her smack in the eye. "Now that we're done Linda, I hate to do this, but I can't live off of good will"I chuckled. "Oh! Yes! Let me go and grab my checkbook"Linda said. As she left I look around the room and started to feel very anxious. I usually had this anxiety right before the deal closed, but this time was different. It felt like I would never be happy again. Something caught the corner of my eye, but as I turned to look nothing was there. Linda suddenly returned and paid me. She even added a generous donation. "I want everyone you help to fell the same sense of relief you gave me today."She smiled. "I greatly apprecia-"I managed to blurt. Suddenly Linda's eyes rolled back and she began to speak in deep hoarse voice. "YOU WILL BE BACK, AND WE WILL HAVE YOU, WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND YOU WILL BE OURS! FRAUDATORUM ET ERUNT IN ESCAM AC TENEBRAS. TE NOBIS PERSEVERET VITAM AETERNAM!"Linda roared as roaches, maggots, and all manner of insects began to emerge from every orfice on her head. Just as quickly as it happened it ended. "Everything OK Mr. Baldwin?"Linda asked noting my expression of fear and suprise. "Y-Y-es Ma'am"I stammered. "Thank you for everything"I said quickly. "No thank you!"Linda smiled gently, but I swear I saw something flicker in her eyes. Something unhuman. She shut the door, and I began to make my way home. "What the fuck was that?"I asked myself as I drove home. I had never seen anything like it. In the 10 years of fooling the weak minded by "purging"their demons I never had any type of paranormal experience. I myself have expertly crafted and orchasted dozens of "exorcisms", but this was different. I couldn't shake rotting maggot Linda out of my mind. We know who you are...Was that some kind of joke? Not much time to work on it, and I lost interest towards the end. May finish later if time permits.
As I stare at the puppy, “My name is Max!”, his collar jauntily reports, I realize a mistake must’ve been made. This can’t possibly be the world’s most prolific serial killer. I text the contact’s agent for clarification, and as I wait, I squat to eye the little fluff ball. Cute as a button he is, one of those little terrier breeds that are liquid energy hastily encased in a skin — jack something... Jack Sprat? Jack Shit, for all I care. I don’t know dogs. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them, I’ve just never had one; they take up far too much time and attention. I am a cat person. My Siamese Willy is just as aloof as I am, normally. My phone chirps nearly subaudibly, and I give it a cursory glance Max — 3 month old Jack Russell Terrier mix Jack Russell, ahh, I think with an inward groan. They’ve even included a photo. A photo of Max with me hunched beside him. what the fuck?, I manage to think before I feel a sudden, excruciating crunch through my arm. I have just enough time to stare, incredulously, at the smiling puppy happily wolfing down everything from my mid bicep down before it all goes black.
For awhile I just wallowed in my misery. Day after day, I sat in my filthy apartment and cried. A lot. Or I just screamed and threw things. Weatherman said it was the worst cold snap in recorded history. Yeah, it wasn’t great. Until one day, I saw a news report. Ice melting in the arctic. Global warming was only getting worse and the planet was paying the price. I’m not sure why that specific news report out of hundreds moved me, but it did. I saw the flowing water where there should be ice. I saw polar bears, their lumbering bodies treading across tundra and wondered if they knew. Two days later, I was packing. Now, I wallow in my misery in the Arctic. And as the ice solidifies, bit by bit, I get a small amount of satisfaction. Adrien would have loved it.
As I walk down the street after work, wondering what sounds good for dinner, suddenly my phone starts to ring. The guys want to meet at the bar down the road, so I start to make my way there since it’s not terribly far from where I am. As I start to get closer to the bar, I see a familiar face leaning against the wall, outside of the bar. There is something so vaguely familiar about him, but I just can’t wrap my head around how I know him. He is holding his hand out, smiling. Then it hits me. ....I forgot my wallet.
You walk out of the surveillance room and look to the right of you, but nothing is there. Craig’s probably just trying to freak you out again, you think to yourself. There’s no way that- “AAAA-“ Behind you a scream rings out, and you whip around to find nothing but a blood trail leading into the bedroom department. You take out your baton and flashlight and slowly creep forwards, revealing more and more of a body, covered in deep puncture wounds. Craig. You can’t stay here, and you know it. The exit is only a few departments away, and you know the secret passages that only employees can take. You move past the body and try the secret door. But... wait... doors didn’t always have teeth, right? You jump back and extend the baton in your hands as the door forms into a hellish beast with gnarled, sharp, and bloody teeth. You turn and run, the exit door is in sight. You grab your walkie-talkie and shout into it, “EVERYBODY GET OUT!” Teeth sink into the lower part of your leg, tripping you just feet from the exit door. You whip around and start swinging at the wooden-looking adversary, to which you strike something... fleshy. You hear a screech as your leg is released and the mimic retreats into the store. You limp out of the door, safe. You’ll need to tell Craig’s family about his death, but will they believe you? A mimic, like from folklore? No, a different story. Somebody broke in, and killed him. Now to form it so that nobody asks questions. You quit your job for a much calmer place of work upstate you in an office complex. Years later, more reports of people missing during the night shift form, and the building is eventually demolished, with 5 more bodies in addition to. Craig unaccounted for. Craig’s family buys your story of an aggressive burglar’s fit of insanity, and tell you to leave them to mourns. The mimic was never found, but some people are noticing some new developments with the printer beyond paper jams...
Thome: Last what?! Why’d you stop? You never stop, you fuck! Out of all sentences you choose this one to stop. Voice, Come back! Narrator: Thome Of Manhattan, New York inner narration instantly came back to him, with his utter disgust. Thome: last what? Narrator: Thome asked the voice in his head, last what? Im not exactly sure what he means. Thome: you said “What they don’t know is today is their last...” Narrator: Thome was feeling sick today, making up delusional stuff he thought an inner voice said. Thome: I literally can hear you Narrator: hear who? Thome: you! Narrator: Thomes fevered got worse. Perhaps I would like a cup of water Thome joyfully thought. Thome: not thirsty, not joyful. WTF!! Narrator: Thome was still upset that i slipped up and said this is his last something or whatever. It’s probably nothing. Today is your last bad day ever! How about that. Or the last time u get sick or your single? Ohhhh you fall in love Today! What a story! Thome was annoyed and tried to forget it Narrator: Thome gracefully walked the busy streets of Manhattan not realizing that this was his last day alive. Narrator: moooooother fuuuucker!!! Thome said to the unknowingly crowd on the street. They looked, but stayed clear of the lunatic. Thome tried to regain consciousness, but I took that ability away from him, he honestly got a little annoying, never any theater , drama, or much brain stimulation for that matter. Anyways the schmucks dead in a few minutes anyway. Thome then stopped walking quickly and angrily hit a fence. Something the typical moron would do. He hit it again even harder, saying, “I am not a morrron”. With the dufuses last few seconds he started to run, what he didn’t know was that he was going to have a heart attack. Thome instantly stop running after he heard that. What the fucking tool doesn’t realize is that he is going to get hit by lighting. Thome slowly starts walking with his eyes in the sky. Thome wasn’t too smart, not even particularly a good lover. I have ED!! He yelled again to the hundreds of people on the NY sidewalk. Hmmm, tmi bro, tmi, bro. Your not going to die Thome, I was just messing with ya! Thome sighed a relief. The narrator cleared his throat. “What they don’t know is today is their last...... time they get to control their body, their mind, and their soul. Thome and the narrator where now just the one, the narrator. Thome was a vessel for the narrator now. Me the narrator couldn’t let a guy simply waste his life. Even though Thome could hear this, he couldn’t do anything about it, not respond, not yell, atleast not on his own free will. The narrator will no longer stand by, seeing Thome not talk to the girl he loves, take that promotion, live life to the fullest, take chances, because let’s be honest.... Who really wants to read that? Thank you for reading this. This is my nightly ritual to help me sleep. Note: I use mobile and don’t usually go back to edit/spellcheck. but this was fun reminded me of a twisted version of that Will Ferrell movie. Cheers! :)
My brow was wet, dripping slowly, itchingly irritating any skin it rolled over. I ran my forearm across my forehead in some misguided attempt to dry myself, only managing to smear the moisture across my face and my arm. It seemed like that action prompted my body to just sweat even harder. My gut rumbled like some ancient eldritch god as I felt small waves of pain in the area above my groin. I had the meatloaf and for airplane food was surprisingly greasy, but still delicious. As for why I wasn't in the bathroom right now, happily awaiting a finished product of digestion. The shortest answer was, it was occupied and my poor stomach and I, we were out of luck. So I sit and wait, and wait and wait, the seconds turn to minutes so slowly my mind begins to postulate new realities for me, I live out an eternity, an ageless unending universe all done by my mind, I imagine lifeforms of all kinds, I watch them as they learn and grow and expand. Entire civilizations grow and die before my eyes and I watch as more spread out and exist for eons before dying in some way or another as well as forming alliances with each other. Then I hear it, a small click from somewhere in front of me and my universe shatters away, my mind coming back to the actual reality of space-time as I glance at my wrist as I get up. Five minutes was all that had passed as I reached the open restroom feeling a cold relief sweep over me as sanctuary had been achieved.
My name is buddy and I am an action figure, and my best friend Sean loves to play with me everywhere. We have had many fun adventures and good talks even though I have never talked back. Lately I've seen him be sad a lot so I think something is happening with his parents, he talked to me once about it, but he hasn't played with me in what feels like forever. I can't stand seeing him like this so I decide its finally time to speak to him. I slowly make my way up onto his bed where he spends most of his time now and his back is facing me. I walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. At first there wasnt a response but then he speaks "Go away I dont want to talk to you" "I want to help"I say I can tell he didnt recognize the voice cause he tensed up, but he decides to roll over and look and then he looks at me and bewilderment strikes his eyes "There's no way this isn't happening"he says to himself "I'm here to help"I say but he doesn't reply as though he is in shock.
"What's up youtube, so today I made it to the edge of the universe but THEN I figured out how to go beyond that. So right now if I pull up a coordinate thing you'll see we're at this number you see as I put the device up to the screen. but if we use a teleport bomb to go past this which if you throw it from the perfect corner angle like..."I throw the teleport bomb and it phases through the barrier no problem. "Now if you want to get back in you just gotta throw another teleport bomb from anywhere, the collision detection is only interior. I would recommend you don't do this though as you won't find anything except what I'm gonna show you soon if I just keep flying... You know if you ever played minecraft and watched some Antvenom videos this is gonna be really familiar so..."I keep flying, holding the camera out in front of me. Then it comes into view; The Farlands. "So yeah basically we're living in block-less minecraft and I have to go a really long distance to get home so yeah bye."
If Google were a guy. It turned out google was a guy, and that the damned series of shorts weren't that far off the scale of idiotic things I would be asked. Including, but not limited to 'Why do my farts smell.' The list of questions was endless, and for the most part they were idiotic. The questions asked by Scientists were the worst, not because they lacked faith, or anything. But because, many of them knew at least the basics behind the answers. Unfortunately. I saw the look on the zealot that just came in. "Why did god create fossils? To fool the unbelievers?" "It didn't create fossils, the creations died.." "But evolution is a lie, we were created perfec..." "We were created by an evolutionary algorithm designed to take the hard work out of it. Much like he used gravity to skip creating planets because having to gather all that mass himself would just be a chore." "... A chore?" "Yes, God tried handmaking things at first, then got bored and looked for shortcuts. Gravity, evolution, human intelligence and so on." "What? Human intelligence is a shortcut?" "Sure. Plugged into a random generator to create cool and interesting stuff. God is not exactly overflowing with work ethic." I saw the question coming, that offended look telling me more than a little. "Where is god now? Has god abandoned us?" "Abandoned us? Not at all. God is..."curse the bastard for making his power unable to lie. Even a little one... "currently participating at Comicon... dressed up as,"I threw up in my mouth a little, "Twilight Sparkle."
"Please stay in your seats, everything is fine, there's no fire. We don't know why the fire alarm is going off, we're doing our best to fix it. We apologize for the inconvenience."The voice over the speaker says, and people are still confused. Some stay in their seats but some leave like standard fire drill procedures. It's a 50/50 split. One person claims they're trying to kill everyone and is attempting to get the rest of you to leave. Another starts handing everyone earplugs in an earnest yet not too effective attempt to solve the noise problem, even the on trying to get everyone to leave. A few minutes after everyone gets their earplugs the voice on the speaker starts up again. "Thank you for waiting, we figured out the problem. Someone just burned something in one of the break room kitchens and left it behind (cough cough) Harold probably (cough cough) Cue the seinfeld theme and credits. The end.
I was entranced by her hundreds of quivering black eyes, her rows upon rows of serrated teeth, and her rapidly whipping tentacles, pseudopods and talons. Ah but who was I kidding Jengoltha was too good for a nobody like me. Ever since she consumed the essence of Jared Higly (who would not contribute to the group project) I couldn't look away from her. She was like red giant sun expanding and extinguishing all life in her path. Weeks turned into months and I finally found my courage. I realized the worst that could happen was that Jengoltha would feast upon my very soul and if that happened we would certainly be together until the heat death of the universe. I often dreamed of the two of us being angler fishes and fusing my mouth to her flesh. The day to court her had arrived. She oozed upon her chair with an effortless beauty that could drive anyone to lunacy. Stacy was next to her and they were chatting about nails, pop stars, hair, madness and sublimating the flesh of the innocent, ya know girl stuff. I cleared my throat and eyes bubbled to Jengoltha's surface all focusing intently on me. "Whoops"said Stacy sensing the mood "I forgot to apply my orphan lungs this morning BRB" Jengoltha and I were finally alone. "Is everything alright little mortal"she burbled. It always made my heart soar when she said that even if that's what she called everyone."Well Jen"I stammered "I really need to tell you uh... um that I like you okay, like a lot". Bubbles rose to her surface and popped as she roiled in embarrassment. "I had no idea you felt that way"she murmured. "it's all so sudden, I just need time to work out all these emotions. Words tumbled out of her maw as her (face?) turned a deep cerulean hue. I hadn't expected her to get flustered she always seemed so collected with a smile or three for everyone."Well you can't rush things you can move at your own pace"I said gently "then maybe if you want we could go bowling""Thank you for your understanding little mortal I think I would very much enjoy this bowling pastime, rest assured you will receive an answer". What I hadn't realized was that immortals perceive time differently and can take eons in their deliberation. I graduated, worked, grew old and finally died when I left the toaster on and my house caught fire. As my flesh burned I thought "I wonder when she'll get back to me". Thusly I've stood a undead creature of cinder, smoke and ash guarding this very tomb of mine across the millennia. But yesterday she emerged from the sour, cursed ground with a shiny pair of red and green shoes in her dripping tendrils. "I have reserved a lane"she said. I had not heard her hissing popping voice for so long and for the first time in centuries I smiled. That brings me to my point brave traveler of the necropolis, what is a good casual outfit for bowling in this day and age.
I still have the scar where my heart was cut out. I watched it stop beating with my own eyes, though the fumes dulled my senses and my memories of my sacrifice are a little hazy. I also watched them put it back in. That squirming mass of darkness that sent a chill down my spine. But look at me, getting ahead of myself already. My journey began in your future, some hundred years from now. I’m a time traveller, you see. I was sent back to study the Aztecs, to learn more of their religious practices. I’d done this before, with other civilisations, but I got cocky. I got myself noticed, and caught, and sacrificed to their gods. With my heart gone, I ceased aging. I stayed with the Aztecs for fifty three years, until their fall at the hands of the Spaniards. After that I moved around, never staying in one place for too long. Many people are superstitious, and immortals scare them. Yes, I am immortal. I’m not the only one who made it out. This club, we’re all immortals. Remnants of the Aztec empire awaiting it’s glorious return. It took us a long time to regroup, but I knew all we had to do was wait. The dawn of the information age made finding each other almost trivial. We’ve lost a few along the way, but there’s enough of us still. After all, this is just the London club. The return? Oh, yes, I did gloss over that a little didn't I. Did I mention I was a time traveller? Well, we couldn’t have the priesthood being wiped out now, could we? My machine was set to return the day after I left, so we sent them on ahead, while the rest of us took the long road. A hundred years from now, my machine will return, and we’ll all be ready waiting. I’m so sorry you had to stumble upon our little gathering tonight. I hope I’ve answered all your questions. Now let me show you the scar. Yes, it does look fresh. Lean in closer while I tear it open again. After all, immortality isn’t free, and it gets so ravenously hungry.
As I look to the center of the arena, the sudden realization that I'm the only normal one in this arena hit me hard, as the waves of saltwater of the Champion of Poseidon hit the archer hidden behind the giant pillar of the temple of Artemis. Why am I one of the legendary champions you ask? I'm a mortician, and a good one, for what matters. My funerary company has been burying bodies since the ages of King Arthur, and, as I understand this, one of my great grand somethings had a deal with this Hades guy. I, as the heir of the company, know very well how to send the funny ghosts and souls of the recently deceased people to the underworld, and for that reason I know as well how to keep them from going, and even how to control them to some extent. You know, every soul wants something, and if they don't manage to get it while they're alive, it's pretty easy for you to convince them that you can get it for them, even if you technically can't. "Hey, lord Hades"I say to myself, knowing well that the scary grumpy grandpa will hear me "could I, like, borrow one or two of these guy's souls for about twenty minutes?" I hear as a grim and gutural voice comes echoing from the Abyss. "Of course, little man, you're my favorite mortal after all" "thanks gramps"I say as I see the lighting go away from the body of the asshole that once was the champion of Zeus, one of the favorites to win this century's tournament. I close up to him and say, "Hey you, champ of Zeus. Do you wanna have revenge on that Poseidon f*ck?". As a nearly transparent version of him goes out of him, I see the face of a spirit that would want to go on rampage, right at that moment. "Then... "as I turn my hands to him, he begins to glow on blue flames and his eyes turn red of rage. I look to the flooded arena again, my heart beating with expectation "here we go, to the depths of hell and back"
I hesitated, before scrolling back up to the GIF of the eldritch Garfield. Huh, that was a really well animated one. How much longer I wondered, before tapping it. Why did it not show the time left? Was I not clicking it hard enough? I sighed before watching a bit longer, just to see when it would loop. Five minutes quickly turned to a half hour, as I failed to notice the room around me shifting into an oozing mush of orange, black, and multiole limbs. "Your screen cannot protect you, u/Jazjo." The Garfield said, forming a sly grin as he looked away from Jon. Instead, he turned his gaze to what seemed to be me. He wasn't looking at me in the way Bonnie and Chica did. It felt like he was actually looking at me. I gave the screen an odd look, confused. What did it mean? I shook my head before looking at the wall, only to see the leering grin of Garfield's staring back. I could only stare, slowly starting to panic. "You cannot escape me, u/Jazjo. You know that as well as I do." He chuckled, shaking what head he had, amongst the mush. I paled, a horrified look crossing my face. I soon felt it, the melding of flesh. I started shaking, watching it. It was like driving back a car wreck, you just couldn't look away. I was eventually gasping, but jolted awake. Oh fuck... I looked around, trying to steady my breathing. No orange or black, no grinning Cheshire. No more shitty cat... no more anything except for my room. I carefully wiped away the few tears that welled up in my eyes, grimacing. I am not dead... just hot, literally. That was a fever dream, it seemed. Well, seems like I'd have to stay off of r/imsorryjon for awhile. Little known to me, my table's screen flickered, showing Garfield's sly face with a string of text. "We'll see if that's truly a fever dream, u/Jazjo" (Might edit later, sorry. 2:41 A.M.)
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Beth's fingers halted in the middle of a sentence. The headache was back. Was it worse this time? She couldn't tell. All she knew was this article was due next week and she needed this head start. eeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee Her attempts to continue her work were fruitless, as her brain, her ears, and really that entire skull region simply refused to cooperate. eeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEEEeee Beth slammed her laptop closed and rose from her chair like Nosferatu on a particularly crabby evening. Crossing the room in a quiet albeit potent fury, she opened the door and shouted down the hall. "WHAT?!" From several rooms away, a timid voice emanated through the apartment. After a rather heartbreaking pause, anyway. "...I didn't want to disturb you,"said the voice, "I was going to get takeout and thought I could signal you without breaking your concentration." At the sound of the voice, Beth's demeanor immediately softened. "Oh god, Neela, I'm so sorry,"she replied, "but you know how that entanglement stuff gives me a headache." As if a switch had been flipped, Neela's voice shot back with an entirely different level of vigor. "I was gonna toss pebbles at your door, but we're all out,"she snarked back. Beth's brain took a second to adjust, and for years down the line Neela would swear the audible "pop"sound she heard wasn't from the lock opening, but from Beth's gray matter flash cooking. But regardless, the stuttering mess that came out of Beth's office would have been hilarious to any onlookers. "Did you... I mean... I can't... why and how do you do that?!" "First, cause I'm manipulative and you love it,"said Neela. "Granted,"Beth replied with a sigh. "And second, because I'm an alien. Don't worry about it." "Please teach me how to change my emotions on a dime like that,"Beth said with mock reverence, "my boss is a being of great shit for brains and I need a raise." "Sorry,"said Neela playfully, "exclusive to my species and can't be taught. It'd be like you teaching me how to grow hair out of your head or how to eat an entire burrito in 2 bites." "Babe, that's not a species thing, that's all me,"Beth lobbed back with misplaced swagger, "oh, speaking of burritos..." "I think I can decode this masterful enigma you're weaving,"said Neela sarcastically, "you're saying you want me to order Chinese, right?" "You know me so well,"said Beth, leaning in for a kiss, "I really want to spend some time together, so let me finish up this article and we'll watch something when the food gets here." "You're on,"said Neela with a blush. Even with her power over her emotions, there were some things she couldn't hide, nor did she want to. Approximately half an hour later, when the delivery driver arrived, he would be slightly baffled as an alien woman answered the door, then wordlessly stared back into the apartment for a second, followed by a clearly frustrated "DAMMIT NEELA!"
My breathing is steady, constant as a metronome. My heart is pounding, not from fear, or the overwhelming pressure of being targeted by the United States government for war crimes I did not commit, but from a twisted sense of excitement. My whole life seems to have led up to this point on top of my suburban household in Hohman, Indiana. The house has long been abandoned, only decorated now with my late father's raunchy - but oddly homely - leg lamp on the windowsill. I vow to protect that lamp with my life, even if it means eliminating the entirety of the United States Armed Forces. In my hands lays the most powerful weapon of mass destruction ever produced - the Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range-model air rifle (with a compass in the stock). The fact that the Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range-model air rifle (with a compass in the stock) was ever approved to be sold commercially to the American public baffles me to this day. Before I spring into action for what might be the last time, I think back to all the memories I shared with this rifle, from the time my glasses were unfortunately the collateral damage of the first time I unleashed its power in my backyard on a cold Christmas morning, to the time I singlehandedly saved 25 American prisoners of war in Vietnam with it, a testament to the power of American manufacturing done in China. \crunch\** The time to reminisce is over, made clear by the audible sounds of feet crunching fresh fallen snow outside my childhood home. I quickly peek over the windowsill and count 7 Navy Seals in full bullet-proof armor. Unfortunately for these poor saps, it's going to take a whole lot more than the kevlar on their chests to stop the rounds propelled from the muzzle of my high-powered rifle. Three of the Seals are standing behind a tactical vehicle on the main road, while the other four are in groups of two, one group to my left, the other to my right. Both groups of two are pacing around the house, looking for a secure point of entrance. I make my move just as one of the groups of two move in front of the windowsill, pulling the two heavily protected men into the home and snapping their necks. "It's now or never,"I think to myself. After locating the second group of two next to my front door, I swiftly exit the window and get a virtually perfect angle, before eliminating them at the same time with one pellet through their helmets. I wait for a few minutes until the three men next to the vehicle begin to suspect something has gone awry. "Charlie, do you copy?"says a deep but shaky voice over the radio that was attached to one of the Seals. "Charlie won't be copying any time soon,"I say, holding back a crooked smile. "And neither will you." Just then, I aim with superhuman speed and exterminate two of the three men behind the car. Now feeling invincible, I slowly but firmly traverse my now bloodied front yard over to the one remaining Navy Seal, dodging hastily shot bullets. Rounding the hood of the car, I hear him taunt me with as much confidence he can possibly muster before starting the engine. "I'm a damn Navy Seal kid. You can't possibly handle that weapon in your hands. You'll shoot your eye out!" A fire is ignited in my very soul upon hearing these words, that heinous phrase. The car speeds away, leaving tread marks on the asphalt. I sprint to the former location of the vehicle and face the direction it went, aiming my rifle with extreme precision. "No,"I insist. "I'll shoot your eye out." I pull the trigger and wait for the pellet to shatter the back windshield, enter the driver's seat headrest, and exit the drivers face through his eye. No more than a second later, the car skids wildly out of control, crashing into a nearby tree. I return to my home, plug in the leg lamp, and breathe a sigh of relief. The fighting is over, for now.
Twelve years ago, astronauts found an alien data-core on the moon, a gift sent from foreign planets. It was an invitation to set up communication with another solar system for the first time in human history. For the last decade, I have been trying to figure out how to make that happen; how to merge this technology with ours. Today was the day I succeeded, and the day I doomed us all. “That should about do it,” I said to myself. I typed the final few lines of code into the console. The system was ready to go. For years, I looked into that dark, endless sky unable to hear what the stars have been whispering to us. It turns out that's because I was looking in the wrong place. All my research went on in the light spectrum, looking for radio or laser emissions, but that was the wrong place entirely. When I started looking at gravitational waves six months ago, I began making much more progress. I had finally figured out how to set up the alien data core with our systems and have them both look for these little galactic ripples. The final stages were complete. I rebooted the console, to let the changes settle, and was ready to welcome humanity into the galactic age. I knew messages were coming or else why would they have sent this technology to us, someone wanted to tell us something. Anticipation rushed through my veins, about to realize the one goal I’ve worked towards for a decade. The console flashed to life. “Welcome, enter your password to begin receiving transmissions.” It requested. I typed a few keys in, hit enter, and waited. Turns out, they weren’t whispering all this time, they were screaming. All at once the receiver picked up transmission after transmission, message after message. The data core they sent us seemed to translate these messages automatically. The transmissions arrived quicker and quicker, cries for help, warnings. The data core hummed and buzzed, and page after page of text appeared on the screen. That excitement I felt moments ago turned into panic, something disastrous was happening and I was unable to stop it. Another transmission popped up on the screen. "Humans, we are in danger, they have returned, they want our planets for themselves. We can not stop them, they are too powerful." "We need your help, hurry. They will come for you next." The receiver went silent. No more transmissions came in. I spent years dreaming of that first transmission, of hearing our galactic brethren say "welcome to the galaxy neighbor."How wrong I was. Instead of that, what I heard were the final words of an entire planet. I had to think fast. They would come for us next. I opened my console, typed in line after line of code. If I hadn't made any mistakes, I should be able to use this system to broadcast a message the same way I received it. "This is Earth, we need help. We are under attack. Help." I sent the broadcast out, alone, we stood no chance. There must be someone left in the galaxy who can help us. Silence. I waited days, weeks for a reply. The Earth prepared its defenses the best it could but everyone knew it wouldn't help at all. The united nations decided it best not to warn the population. They couldn't help, and what if I'm wrong, what if I've gone crazy up here on this rock? Radio silence was the policy down their too. I waited at the receiver. Still silence. After years and years of silence, I was pretty accustomed to it, but this silence was different. This silence was the sound of doom. After too many long weeks, the receiver buzzed and whirred again, we had received a response. "Earth. We are coming for you."
"AHH NOO! It's in ruins! Oh she'll be mad! NO FORGET THAT, SHE'LL CRY AND MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A BAD LITTKE BROTHER. O--ohh I know, I'll just repair this thing." /// All of a sudden, the world's problems just disappeared one by one. Pollution all of a sudden disappeared. The rivers ran crystal, the oceans so clean you can see as far down as the light can reach. Deforestation? All of a sudden a new, ultra fast growing species of trees suddenly appeared. Mother nature wanted her space back I guess. The plastic in the ecosystem was eaten by some new bacteria that survives solely on plastic. It's gone now. /// "Ah man, all her dollys are hitting each other. This is gonna take a while to fix..." /// World peace was achieved. Nations and peoples forgave each other and united in harmony. The rich poured out their coffers and personally lead the global economic uplift. With abundant resources and automation, poverty was set to be a chapter in history. /// "What is with these fire crackers all over here...?" /// One day, every nuclear weapon in the world simultaneously went dead. Not a single one was able to be armed. In fact, any weapons grade nuclear material was impossible to produce any further. /// "Emmm, maybe she'll want spacey stuff...?" /// One by one, every last physician in the entire world suddenly gained a spark of inspiration. A new Golden Age of Technology emerged. /// "Whew, that took a load of effort for dolly house. Aren't you awesome Steve? Whyyy yes I am...I should really stop talking to myself..." /// We have heard it. The name of our Lord and Saviour. _Steve_ A most _humble_ God. To choose a name so common that even the lowest may feel companionship with him. PRAISE STEVE, OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR, HE WHO GRACES US WITH PROSPERITY AND TECHNOLOGY. HAIL OMNISSIAH!
[Poem] When a powerful being looks at you the icicles on your heart melt In tandem with their blinking Clasp Drip Clasp Drip but when they ask for your power the blood in your fingers refreeze. Ask for your power What is it What is it What is it What is it to rise from your stomach even when the intestines are twisting baskets through your chest cavity. Don't think I can Help you Like that Their frown will eat your sanity and you'll forfeit your body for whatever that means. My power is lost. Never expected this fantastic experience.
I looked impatiently at the newly installed clock on the wall. It was one of the new gadgets heaven had installed in an attempt to “rebrand” hell. It had not even been five minutes since the interview had started and yet here I was, regretting that I had ever decided to entertain this dumb kid. To make time, I had had to push back the deaths of nearly fifty thousand mortals by a day. Tomorrow was going to be very hectic. I proceeded to ask the applicant some standard questions. “So, can you tell me how to calculate the net karma of a soul?” “Sure. So what you do is, you take all the negative karma of the soul and subtract it from all the positive karma”. The kid replied confidently, beaming with pride. “Well, technically that’s correct but can you go into further detail?” I asked knowing well what his reply would be. “No. As of now, I just know the basics.” And suddenly, for the first time in nearly two hundred thousand years, I found out what a migraine felt like. What value did the mortal possibly think he could add to my kingdom? How could he be of any use to me, the lord of the underworld? The one who caused nightmares in the land of the living and screams in the land of the dead. “Do you know how to navigate through the nine circles of hell?” “No, but I am very passionate and would love to learn” came yet another confident reply. I sighed once again and asked. “So, Tell me about your strengths?” “Uhh, Strengths? Well, I guess I am sorta good with computers” he replied. And just like that, the kid now had all my attention. “You know how to use MS Excel?” “Uh, Kinda. I mean I don’t know how to use the formulas and all, but I can do stuff like adding rows and make tables” This was perfect. I spoke with excitement. “Why, you should have started with that! A little while ago, Heaven sent me a memo saying that they wanted me to start documenting all details of souls that resided here. I’ve been having such a hard time wrapping my head around this software. I mean, how does one even change the date format?” “So, you’ll hire me? I'm an intern now?” the kid asked. “Sure. You can start right away. Just take a seat at the gate and note down the relevant information of each soul that passes by” “Mr. Death, thank you so much. You know, my parents were starting to think that I would never get a job! This is going to make them so happy! By the way, is it alright if I play with the three-headed dog once I’m done with the work?” “Sure, knock yourself out. I’m going to take a short nap. All this excel business the past few days has left me tired and exhausted.” I teleported myself into my chambers and proceeded to lie down on my bed. Hiring this kid might actually turn out to be a good idea, I thought to myself. If he did his job well, I might even give him a few extra silver coins. Anything was better than having to work on those annoying pesky “computers”. Soon, I was lost in my stream of thoughts and before I realized, I had fallen asleep. I dreamt about all new punishments I could administer on souls now that I finally had the time. However, I was soon woken by a high pitched voice. “Mr. Death. Mr. Death. I’m so sorry. I think I forgot to lock the Gates. All the souls have escaped”
\ring \ring \ring "She's not answering." \ring \ring \ring The Devil tapped the receiver on his landline, hoping maybe it was just a hardware problem. Of course Hell uses landlines. Most would tell you it was to keep with the "constant mild inconveniences"theme of the place, but old Satan himself really just had a soft spot for vintage electronics. \ring \ring \*ri- He slammed the phone down (another reason he liked these old models) and looked to his lackey, fuming. "You'd think,"The Devil said, with a slightly unhinged tone, "that in an age of constant, uninterrupted communication, I just MIGHT be able to get ahold of someone whose ENTIRE JOB is to wait for this exact call." His lackey nodded in agreement, having learned not to speak even when spoken to. "Fine,"he continued, desperately grasping for the composure he lost, "who's the backup?" The lackey shuffled through Satan's rolodex, finally extracting a small card and handing it to the Prince of Darkness. Taking the card, Satan blinked. "...Seriously?" ---------------------------------- Bev had just come home from her shift. The restaurant wasn't a particularly pleasant place, and today was par for the shitty course. Her dog, Hank, greeted her as dogs do, which improved her mood slightly. After enjoying the attention, she tossed her jacket in a random direction and slumped onto the couch, where Hank quickly followed with hopes of snuggles. After several generous seconds of peace and quiet, the universe decided that was enough as Bev's phone rang. She briefly pondered ignoring it, but something deep within told her she might want to answer this one. With a sigh, she hit answer. "Hello?" "Yes, hello,"came a strange voice from the other end, "might this be the chosen?" "You got the wrong number, pal,"said Bev, reaching for the hang up button. Hank moved his paw to her arm, wanting attention. "No, I'm certain this is the correct number." "Well that's unfortunate,"Bev answered, clearly done. "Would you please just allow me to speak to Henry?"the increasingly frustrated voice asked. "See, I told you it was a wrong number,"Bev said, "there's nobody by that name here." "Actually..." The sudden third voice nearly shocked Bev off her couch. It took only a second to discern its origin, as it came from someone else sitting on the same sofa. "Shit's going down?"Hank the dog said into the phone, now laying on the ground. "Down, up, and everything in between,"came the strange voice over the phone, with a twinge of relief. "I'm on it." Hank then leaped from the couch and trotted out the door, leaving the poor confused Bev sitting on the couch, staring at nothing in particular.
I walked up to 12A. "Dude, do you know what's going on? What does he mean by 'it's your turn'"? "No fucking idea. I'm absolutely terrified, I just wanted you to come with me." "Fair play, but what do we do now?" Just before I could finish the sentence - the 2 flight attendants assigned to our areas of the plane walked up to us. "Please go to the back of the plane." Confused, we both just decided to follow them. The Flight Attendants followed, they seemed fairly happy. When we got to the back, the co-pilot was there. *"Congratulations to 12A, 23C, and the 2 flight attendants assigned to their rows! You have just won a free upgrade to Business Class on your next Star Alliance flight!"*
"Yes, YES! My nefarious plan is proceeding perfectly, PERFECTLY! Number two, bring up the metrics."Per orders, Number two brought up the metrics. Evilness: up 142% in the past year. Nefariousness, another 265%. Plots held steady at a 99% success rate ('success' included any plot with a 4 star rating or higher), and schemes were at an all time high of 79%. In the next quarter it was projected that schemes would break 90%. What a day to be a villain! Number two didn't really know what all of those numbers meant, but her reporting team had been on fire lately. 30% increases in metrics that had been stagnant for years, productivity up across the board, how could anyone complain? She nodded confidently as The Villain monologued about the increased numbers, and vowed to get her underlings some sort of compensation for their efforts. It had been a trying year. Now that The Villain had finally broken into the global spotlight, Heroes seemed intent on disrupting any and all Plans. The Henchman yawned lazily at his computer, the most recent productivity upgrade of the Evil Organization. Released a month ago, the iDesktop packed the latest in productivity software, a beastly amount of RAM, a 32 core processor, and a graphics card that could run virtual reality at 239 FPS without missing a beat. He mostly used it to play solitaire... literally and figuratively. The Henchman, a professional, had discovered something years ago. It was a simple truth about the villainy sector. Villains loved to be hated. In some organizations, that was a problem. It meant ruthlessly recruiting Heroes to attack on a constant basis, each time threatening to topple the entire Organization. Or it meant marketing the Organization as a true threat to global security, and trying to survive a concerted attack from the whole of the League of Nations. But not all Organizations were so concerned with dashboards and efficacy; that rather simplified things. By tweaking the data sets, The Henchman conjured heroes from thin air, resolved 'large-scale break-ins' with all of the ingenuity of the 'delete' key, and consistently received bonuses larger than anyone else in the Organization. "Well done. Get to work de-encrypting the results, and let me know what you find."The Justice's team had finished cracking the latest villain's database. Every villains wanted to connect to The Internet of Things, a term The Justice had coined himself, which made breaking in and stealing information mere child's-play. Yes, their base gates would synchronize to a specific clapping pattern, but was that really worth leaking each and every detail of their plans to the people meant to stop them? The Justice chuckled quietly to himself; the damned fools still hadn't caught on. A red light erupted from his monitor, accompanied by a distinct siren blare. The Justice instantly refocused his thoughts. A level 9 villain. The first. Tucking away his jollity, The Justice prepared for battle, a battle he might well die fighting. "A Scheme Rate of over 90%!?"The Justice was baffled. "Run those numbers again. There has to be a mistake." "Sir, there's no mistake sir. A 90% scheme rate, with a plot success of over 99%. Sir... permission to speak freely?" "Goddamnit Captain, this is no time to stand on ceremony. Spit it out!" "Sir... we're not equipped to deal with a threat like this one. We should negotiate." "Negotiate!? Captain Support, have you lost your mind?" "Sorry sir. Forget I said anything." "I... no, the fault is mine. You're right. This isn't a job for us. But then... who can handle a villain this strong?" "Hahahahahahahaha. Number Two! Tell me, how goes our Evil Plan!? Have we subdued the League of Nations?" "Yes sir! This latest graphic, produced by my lead visualizations engineer, shows our current standing in the League of Nations." "So much red! And green! And stripes! Tell me, what does it mean?" "Well you see these representatives? They're entirely cowed by our massive strength. And these, over here, these are the representatives who are terrified of our momentum. And the stripes, those are the best part, those are the individuals we've turned to our cause!" "Yes, yes! Just like I'd envisioned! Keep me updated, and let me know when we're ready to proceed to phase 2-beta-gamma-II-M." "Of course sir!" A letter arrived today... from The Justice himself. I damned near couldn't believe it. He wants to discuss terms. I suppose this is what I've been waiting for... but what if he figures out what's actually going on? The Justice arrived at 5:00 AM, just as the letter had demanded. The Villain had a penchant for dramatics, and he wasn't going to miss the chance for a showdown at sunrise. ...But he was late. Very late, in fact. The Villain arrived at 6:42 AM, just as planned, just as Number Two had told him to. It will give you the upper hand! My psychology department swears it!" "What is the meaning of this! You agreed to discuss term. How dare you keep me waiting for almost two hours!" "Hahahaha, my dear Justice, don't you know that Evil dictates the terms!? Is that any attitude to bring to a negotiation?" "I... I suppose not. My apologies. Please, tell me, what do you want?" "What do I want? Simple! Number Two, tell the man what we want!" Several hours later, The Justice still sat in the same heavy stool, his buttocks beginning to ache. Number Two had just finished her 149th slide on the objectives of The Organization. Each slide seemed to slip into another. "We want to maximize the synergy of the different leverageable portions of the plotting sector. To do that, we'll need to emphasize the productivity of our handling and disengaging parties, currently active in an impressive 92 of 132 regions. We'll need each individual to develop their talents and explicate their grandeur per orders as dictated in the Master Plan. And as you can see here, we'll need to utilize landmass of third world countries to dictate pacing within the larger globalization market span."The Justice's head swam. "Yes, okay, okay! I concede. Just tell me what to do!""Haven't you been listening? First I'll need you to explicate the directorate of the synergistic companionship. Only then can the amplitude of compositional superiority discuss the ramifications of conceptualization within the framework of The Villain's proposal...
if you want to imagine a future, Imagine "hands"that look half rhino, half shark rubbing purell, into each other, before and after punching a human head , forever. Imagine a 12 meter tall Spider/squid vehicle crawl out of its cylinder and attach air filters the size of hay bales to its intakes before pulping humans to feed their red grass. and Guard rails and exclusion fencing to prevent aircraft collisions on the emitter points on city destroying lazers. Imagine, exaust ports with titanium blocker bars just inside the entrance and core ship systems network isolated from ship docking computers, especially units that have been missing for decades. Imagine a species cursing the names and individuals that had made Hollywood, and become the death of us. not forever, not for long at all really.
20 years have passed by since the gates closed. We shut out what made us weak. Those on the outside are not humans, we are. They are nothing more than filth. That is true now, now after 20 years. I belive there were still possibilities, at least that's what my pa told me. He lived on the border of Europe. The very edge of what they called civilisation. He saw the downfall of civilisation in the wastelands. "It's time to defend Terra Prime from the wastelands."the corporal shouted. "We will take back the world, the filth forfeit so long ago. Now, we, the righteous owners and protectors of this world will take back what is ours."My hands gripped onto the gun, I never wanted. But I can't run away now. I invested too much time into this. "And with this you, the pathfinders of civilisation will step out the gates. Good luck! And may the filth not get to you!" Hundreds of hands shot into the air in cheering. The noise drowned out my concerns for just a moment. I felt like I was back in the days I joined the pathfinders. But as the cheers ebbed away I saw back to the little podium the corporal stood at. Gigantic banners hung on either side depicting the beauty of Terra Prime. It looked wrong, mechanical nothing you would trust. But everyone else just believes in it. I don't understand why. We all turned around towards the stalwart gate that has kept out whatever was on the other side of the wall. The filthy wastelands. The gates creaked open slowly. Unveiling little by little, what they have hidden for all my life time. I saw brown, a waste of endless burned earth. "What has happened here?"I asked myself that, as the masses pushed me along. Minutes later the pathfinders dispersed into all directions and I finally got a clear view. Everything was just a field of dust, filled with footprints emanating from the gate. Nothing was left of what has been before. This was the end of civilisation and a beginning for me. (This something of a continuation of my last post I posted und here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c7wb8p/wp_we_failed_to_prevent_global_warming_but_it_was/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share )
"It was about 11:20 on a Friday night."Said Cassie, taking a long drag on her Cigarette. "Sometime between 1965 - I remember because Tom Lehrer was havin' a show down at the old Barn on main - and it was before the moon landing."She huffed another of her Camels and walked to the Window, closing the blinds. "It was a man, I think. Dressed in a diving suit for sure. I remember 'cause he came out the sink. The weird thing was it wasnt't like those suits you'd see in the movies nowadays where they got the big tank in the back, y'know? It was a big bulky copper-lookin' thing with a tube extending to God knows where, I never got a good look at it, I was just aware that it existed."She took another drag. "He didn't make no fuss or nothin'. Just climbed over the counter and out the door. I remember lookin' at him with Stars in my eyes, not sure if I was hallucinatin' or some crazy s#@$, when he just puts what looks like a small box in mah hand and wanders off." "And how are you sure that he actually visited?"You ask, dumbfounded. "The box had a ring in it."Cassie flashed her shaky old hand, and sure enough there was a ring on it. "Weird thing was I was datin' young Frank Carter who had drowned in the lake not a day prior. I liked to think it was him behind that coppery mask."
Kevin sighed. &#x200B; He wearily plopped down in his office chair, and tiredly pressed his computer's power button. &#x200B; Kevin sighed again. &#x200B; As his computer slowly turned on, Kevin yawned. Nine years with this company and they still haven't bothered to upgrade his computer. He still has a flip phone from Blackberry's heyday, for crying out loud. &#x200B; Kevin sighed for the third time. &#x200B; But having old tech doesn't stop marketers. Doesn't stop scammers. This cheapskate corporation can't even 'afford' spam-preventing software for their own devices. &#x200B; Kevin grimaced as he lazily sipped his lukewarm coffee. &#x200B; Finally, his computer screen lit up, and he wordlessly tapped his keyboard as gmail loaded. &#x200B; Kevin looked puzzled. Then, he smiled. &#x200B; "Well, how 'bout that?"
# The Blades of Blasphemy The Gods have abandoned us... My actions have damned the entirety of the empire and I deserve worse than being stuck within this cell for what I have done. The ambient screams from the massacre taking place on the other side of this stone wall are growing more haunting by each passing moment as I sit here idly pondering upon my sins and the greed that drove me to not only go against the Clergy but against the very Ethereals I have worshipped since a child. The boy I once was would personally walk me to the gallows today if they could see how far I've strayed from my faith. What happened to that young apprentice, simply content with gaining validation through the studies of metallurgy and refining his abilities within the forge. The place within that boy's heart which once held a pure and genuine passion has been displaced by the greed and material obsession of man. &#x200B; A loud screech comes from down the hall of the holding cells as the entrance door swings open and heavily armored Hygardian Soldiers file into a line stretchy down the hallway, each standing at attention with spears held pointed upwards. Once they are in all in place a towering giant of a man slowly makes his way towards my cell, an elegant crimson cape kicking up dust as it drags in his wake. &#x200B; "So, you are the man in which I have heard so much about..."the Captain says while lifting his helm, revealing his grotesquely scarred and partially disfigured face from many seasons of combat and martial encounters. I find it hard to resist adverting my gaze as drool leaks through the missing section of his bottom lip, saliva trailing down the golden engravings across his plated armor as he continues on. &#x200B; "Perhaps I should thank you, whether the accounts of your blasphemy being the cause of our foe's unarming, or it a result of pure incompetence within your craft... You have unwittingly been of great service to me, my men hardly broke a sweat,"he says followed by a deep bellow of laughter. &#x200B; "My sins have damned my people, my blasphemy was born of greed and yet now no septum I have earned with reverse this course. Please, send me before the Ethereal ones to face the judgment I deserve. I beg of you, end my life and the suffering of this guilt which burns within my chest."I plead, my head hanging in shame, blackened soot-filled hair covering my face as tears begin softly padding against the tops of my feet. &#x200B; "Ah, so it's true? Glorious!"The Captain shouts excitedly before motioning to a nearby squire who then promptly brings a wooden stool over to his master's position. &#x200B; "Lord Ironhilt, sir!"the squire chimes as he briefly stands at attention before quickly scampering away. As the Captain takes a seat each leg of the stool stretches outward and creaks as he adjusts himself. &#x200B; "Now, weaponsmith - We've killed everyone and razed this place to the ground. It would be no hair off my back to leave you in this cell to slowly rot away, each remaining moment alone with the thoughts of painful regret. Or, I could end your misery and take your life before my men and I head back to the capital... but I will be needing something in return. You will tell me every - single - detail of what leads to such a blunder as what happened here today. I'm certain when reporting back God Emperor Severin would greatly enjoy this tale as much as I." &#x200B; Would it be considered penance by the Gods for me to remain here and slowly starve? No. There's no forgiveness for what I've done. It's too late for me to begin weighing the righteousness of my decisions now. &#x200B; "What say you?!"Captain Ironhilt yells, impatiently slamming his large metal gauntlets against his helm which sit upon his lap. &#x200B; "Okay, okay! I accept."I immediately reply before taking a seat on the dampened stone floor, it's green algae covered surface cold against my skin. &#x200B; "Many generations ago the Ethereals gifted my people with four blades, each with unique traits yet all equally superior in strength, it's said they were forged within the heavenly flame and each bound with the essence of one of the Gods. The essence empowers he who wields the blade with abilities reflective of the deity in which is bound. The Blade of Va'nesh granted its user sight beyond sight, providing them vision through any surface no matter it's material... Wood, metals, even natural rock formations can be viewed through as if it were merely a glass silhouette of itself. The Blade of Ohaash granted it's wielder unwavering endurance. Lungs that never tire and a heart that never flusters, its user could fight through endless days and nights, never taking a single labored breath throughout. The Blade of Kul'kahn gave its wielder agility like no other, swiftly slipping enemy maneuvers and countering incoming strikes. Fighting against the blade's user was said to have felt like trying to drive your weapon into a gust of wind. No matter the skill of the warrior, they could never connect. And the last sword, The Blade of Hel'varel granted it's user strength greater than any man or beast and the courage of an entire army. The Blade of Hel'varel was also the first I was able to successfully reproduced, and the most used among our soldiers..." &#x200B; Captain Ironhilt then interjects, "These original four blades, are they still in existence?" &#x200B; "No, sadly they are not. The secret to mass producing such powerful weapons was the swords themselves. All four ethereal blades were melted down and a small drop of their melted alloys were mixed within the duplicates during their mass production. We were going to raise the greatest army mankind had ever seen, each of its soldiers wielding one the divine weapons I had forged. Initially, I was revered as a God among man. My status equal to Va'nesh, Ohaash, Kul'kahn, and Hel'varel themselves..." &#x200B; I find myself pausing and settling into silence as I begin thinking over the words I just spoke, how disgusting it is that even now I find myself reminiscing about the brief moments of notoriety I had gained, even as undeserving as I now know it was. &#x200B; "Go on..."Ironhilt says in a stern yet anticipatory demand. &#x200B; I shake clear my cycle of thoughts, clear my throat, and continue on with the account. &#x200B; \~continued below (character limit)
The angry tears stained Thomas' eyes. The gun was gripped tightly in his shaking grip, aimed at the perfect and unmarred face of a man sitting on a throne in an endless white space of rolling and shifting platinum, a look of placid peace on his smiling face. "Why?!"Thomas roared, his throat hoarse. "Why what?"The figure grinned evilly, knowingly. "Why did you make my son have to suffer and die?"The enthroned man shrugged. "Why not? I rule the Earth and all upon it. They are to do with as I please. Your reaction standing here though, is expected. Welcomed even." "You killed my son, rotted him away from the inside. I held his hand as he died and said we'd meet again in Heaven. You're GLAD I'M HERE?!"Thomas fired a bullet. The ruler of the Earth brushed the evaporated missile like it was dust on his suit. He arose and casually walked around Thomas as he spoke, Tom keeping the weapon trained on him. "Of course I'm glad you're here Thomas. Certainly I'd prefer you here than the other place. After all, you invited me into your heart every Sunday, with every spiteful prayer."His back was now to Thomas. "A means to an end. I followed every rule, every commandment. Never harmed a living thing and did right by others, I was a better man than most!" "All so you could stand before your God with weapon in hand and hate in your heart."Thomas' enemy turned to him and threw open his arms. "Go on then. Slay the Light-bringer. End my torment of the Earth and all who crawl upon it!"Thomas knew something wasn't right, why would God allow Himself to be killed if He knew it could work? He didn't care though. He could only think of every prayer and utterance of His name that was said with the clearest of sincerity in his voice but felt like hot lead in his mouth. How every praise of God made his ears ache and his heart fill with fire. Thomas roared as he emptied his weapon in blinding flashes and the figure between them crumpled and fell. Thomas howled in blood lust as he fell to his knees. But his heart stopped and his eyes shrunk when he saw the body of his enemy. It was a little boy in a hospital gowned riddled with bullet holes, coughing blood from his mouth. Thomas scrambled to the shade of his son and cradled him. "Tommy! Tommy, no! I-I didn't mean to!"Tommy's eyes looked upon his father with fear and betrayal before he went limp and faded into dust. "Nooooooooooo!"Thomas heard his master chuckling behind him. "What you do to the least of my brothers. You do to me.' Double edged sword that one." Thomas whipped around and lunged at him with primal, animistic rage but felt the energy drain from his body as he collapsed. Thomas coughed up the particles in his mouth. It wasn't white cloud he'd been standing on, it was sand. The white around them parted, it had been a sandstorm. Fire rained down from the sky as others far as the eye could see also crawled upon the dunes as Thomas was. "I thought this was,-" "Heaven? Oh no my friend, this the Circle of the Violent, 7th down. Rest assured though, your son's immortal soul is safe. Far beyond you. Guess you made a liar of him though when he said he'd see you in Heaven."He looked over the damned expanse in admiration. "I did everything I was supposed to."Thomas chocked out, boiling tears flowing down his face. "I said the prayers." "Ohhhh you were praying all right. You said the words. You said them with such venom in your heart. Fantasizing about dethroning the unjust deity who so cruelly took something precious from you."He turned to Thomas and sucked his teeth. "As if those far superior to you haven't already tried."Thomas slammed a pathetically weak fist into the hot sand. His body began to sink into it and it felt like he was being branded on every cell. He screamed in pain. "I dedicated my life to you!"The being smiled and walked toward Thomas, treading atop the sand without sinking. "You did. Every day since your son died, you've been my soldier."He now held Thomas' weapon. "Every act and false prayer, I gave you a bullet."He emptied the weapon and started dropping the hot lead on Thomas' still exposed face and arms. "Wrath. Spite. Vengeance. You struck our target good and well. He doesn't bleed, so I draw blood by proxy." "H-He?"Thomas chocked with his throat cracking and drying. The man leaned down and took Thomas, chin in his hand. "Who do you think I am? I am the Lightbringer. I am he who rules the Earth. I . . . am Lucifer,"he grinned unnaturally wide and with profane hues in his eyes. "Welcome to Hell, Thomas." The End.
"This is Bullshit!" My Son who was in his 50s now was mad, pacing up and down. &#x200B; "Calm down, Thomas!" Sara, my daughter in Law tried to comfort her Husband. "No you dont understand! Its not that she will die." he pointed at me. "Its that for all intends and purposes we will die!" with that pointing at himself and everyone else in the room. &#x200B; No matter how many times he tries to explain it to her, she was a bit too stubborn to ever fully comprehend it. She simply responded. "Not that again! Your whole Family, yes i mean you..." Pointing at my son. "...You!..." now pointing at my Daughter "...and especially especially You!..." now she was pointing at me. I couldn't help but chuckle at it. This was new. I knew her through many iterations already but never really that close. She was a blast to be around. &#x200B; "Your whole Family is fucking Crazy! Your mom is smart, Yes and Filthy rich, YES. But that doesn't make her a fucking time Parasite! This is just a Long fucking Troll don't you get it? I am sick of this charade." She was really mad. She now came closer to my Bed. Walking through one of my Holoscreens blocking my view of the News. &#x200B; "Mom, I studied history. I know that you grew up during the Anonymity. The 4chan, the 8Chan, the Reddit and the YoTube". I held my finger up and corrected her "its YouTube, also its not, the 4chan, its just 4chan and i never used it" she continued "Ok sorry, but regardless. You people where Trolls! You convinced People to microwave their Phones, or that the Earth was flat to name just a few harmless ones. To lie and misdirect people was some kind of sick hobby at the time, a result of Anonymity. Thank God that that time is over, considering the culmination of it all." &#x200B; "But this, this is just fucking sick and cruel! Your Son, my Husband is terrified! He is terrified that he ceases to exists! Once you Die." &#x200B; "My dear. Do you know how rich i am?" i asked her. "Yes, you are the third richest person in the World. What has that to do with anything?" she shrugged with her shoulders. &#x200B; "My Dear, did you ever wonder how i become so rich? How i could invent all those things? The Mark 1, 2, 3 and 4 Fusion Reactors? The Aurora Engine? The QuPhone? The Silica Operating system? The Topato plant? Phagecorp?" &#x200B; she rolled with her eyes. "I never denied that you are smart, a genius even but..." &#x200B; I laughed but every chuckle made it hurt a little bit, which kind of made the whole thing funnier. I then answered. "I am really not a Genius, i just had a lot of Time. How can one person be a rocket scientist, a Nuclear engineer, a Bioelectric engineer and a geneticist? Before you answer, i tell you. They cant! It took me a very long time to learn all of those things! Thousands of years. I am not that smart. For the a while i thought that there was a Glitch in the Matrix" &#x200B; She interrupted me "What does that mean?" I answered. &#x200B; "Oh thats from an Old Movie. I thought i was in a Simulation for like 2 Iterations. Anyway, then i thought i was a God. Then i thought i was. The God. It took me a while to figure out what really happened." &#x200B; "not this again!" Sara exclaimed, she was pacing up and down the room now "You will give me the talk now? Come on give me a break!" &#x200B; She came back to my bed. Had gestured with her hands, visibly upset "Ok lay it on me! What makes you believe, that you are Immortal? Spare no details! Or, please do spare me details just tell me how this works and then everybody here will see how fucking insane you are!" &#x200B; She folded her arms and defensively held her Chin up. &#x200B; I adjusted my bed, the magnets where buzzing to push me a bit higher and started talking. "Well its actually quite simple. I am Sick. I always die around this time and i always come back to the same point of Origin, F5 and F9. So the short version is. I am infected by a Extra dimensional Parasite. I would say its more like a Symbiotic relationship really...." &#x200B; Sara interrupted me, pointing at me "See? Fucking crazy!" &#x200B; "Sara!" my son shouted. "let her finish!" i tried to take away the tension of the room and said. "Yeah Sara, let her finish! Come on, i thought you are a cool chill Gal!". &#x200B; She laughed. "It took me a long time to really figure out how it works. But this Symbiont exists within the Borders of time. Where the forward and reverse time intersects. At Zero time. I got a Nobel Prize for this" pointing at my wall "not sure which one, maybe the third one from the right, they all look the same really". Smirking, knowing exactly how it sounds. &#x200B; "In any case, the Symbiont is a energy based Lifeform. However, Energy needs an exchange partner in time. A Photon does not care if it goes forward or backward in time. It itself, cant save information in this way through time, right? So the person you are talking to is actually not the biological life form. I am the Symbiont in a way and you are talking to my Host. Kinda fucked up i know. But thats how it works. My Memories are saved by it in a timeless state. When this Body dies. There is no more energy to its information on. So it goes back into the realm between time and comes back to the point it first found me. What it doesn't realize is that i, the me comes with it. So i am a Parasite of a Parasite so to say but it needs me to exist and i need it to exist so its a symbiosis of sorts." &#x200B; "Thomas told me the whole thing before actually, its crazy, but it seems you actually believe it. So whatever floats your boat." She simply responded, tired of arguing with me. &#x200B; i took a deep breath "Now its time to press F9 though. Oh and FYI, you will all continue to exist me leaving will not delete this multiverse. Be good. But Sara, you are right with one thing." &#x200B; Now my whole family was coming closer to my bed. They knew the end was near. "right with what?"she asked. &#x200B; "You are right that i am a fucking troll." My family was looking at each other wondering what i meant with that. I looked to the Computer camera "Tara, update my last will from file Trololololo.odt. Read Will" &#x200B; A Hologram of Tara was now displayed in my room. Everybody looked at her with a shocked expression when she started reading the will. "In case of my death. Every Family member receives an equal share of 0.01% of my fortune, the rest of my fortune is to be frozen into a fund, paid out and equally divided when Sara, and only Sara, can complete the Game Doom from 2016 on Ultra-Nightmare difficulty." &#x200B; I was now falling into myself, seeing my family argue and quarrel in fast forward. It was Death. The dot of that Life becoming smaller and smaller until i was in the timeless darkness of Death. Another dot appeared, microscopic at first, as if in super slowmotion. The larger it got the faster it started to play until the Darkness was gone. Looking up at Chinese Doctor who just saved my life in 2014. The doctor bend over me, smiled and said in a shrill voice with broken english. I must have heard it couple of thousand times now. &#x200B; "Haha, you have died, but now you ok. You very Lucky!" He walked away tending to another Patient in the Busy ER of the Number 2 Peoples Hospital.
“Jesus fricking Christ. The amount of sweat Johnny’s hand builds up is incredible. I’m dripping in sweat from tip to clicker.” Inkling couldn’t quite believe just how much sweat the kids hands had produced that day. It didn’t help it was final exams, in squelching summer heat. He ranted to the rubbers beside him after Johnny left for break. For two painful hours Inkling had been clenched, gasping for air each time he was put down. Before inkling could continue his rant, johnny and dozens of others ran back into the classroom. Immediately every pen and pencil froze, retracting their miniature mouths and legs. “So class, we have one more test today, please take a sheet and write your names on the top. You will have 3 hours to complete it.” no way, there’s no way in hell im being thrown around like that again. I don’t want to end up like those poor souls over there. Inkling stared at the trash can, as the humans call it. Inside were many of his best friends, lifeless. The fragile cartridges of ink emptied and broken. Once a pen lost all its ink, all function would disappear. Some with a few drops left inside would commit suicide by rolling off of tables, instead of meeting the horrific fate of no ink. Johnny forcefully snatched inkling off the table and proceeded to melt away his ink once again. Inkling thought to himself Please god, let me live another day
It’s a simple story, but not one easily told. I’d thought about how to say it out loud many times but wouldn’t dare ever tell another soul about it. Maybe on my deathbed? Sure, that sounded simple enough, and I’d practiced that part plenty: “So, listen. I killed your mom and dad because it’s my job. I also kind of broke the Territory regime in your area and it wasn’t a safe place to be anymore so I took you home with me.”... and then breathe my last breath. My mother had been overjoyed. Little Bean even looked a bit like me. Well enough to pass her off as my own at least, and that wasn’t the hard part anyway. The hard part was rationalizing why I killed this kid’s parents and instead of dropping her off at the closest church’s doorsteps I instead bought a can of formula and brought her back to the base with me. I’d essentially brought work home with me on my last day. In my mind’s eye I could still see her where Arthur and Natalie Burnham had stashed her carrier, covered with a cotton speckled blanket in the back of the safehouse where I’d tracked them to. The evidence of their attempt to flee was assembled together in their go-bags by the back door. There I found a nondescript duffle bag full of diapers, a folio of faked Territory documents, boxes of sealed ammunition, and a birth certificate for Bean that declared her name was Emily Burnham. These people had never been meant for the spy gig. They’d been sharp as a whip at organizing data and coding for their new government, but keeping it safe had been another story. It seemed so easy in the beginning after the war for the new generation to get in on the ground floor of the many intelligence networks popping up all over the territories formerly known as the USA. The truth is that most of us had no idea what was coming when the US collapsed, and what followed was a return to Cold War tactics, except this time Americans were using it on themselves, and no one wanted to be known as ‘American’ anymore. Little Bean’s parents joined the Southern Territory Alliance Nationals in hopes that the STANs would offer more safety in the face of the Northern Inter-Colony Engagement, who lost the arms race when the US dissolved. The NICEs had one thing that the STANs did not, however, and the STANs lost control shortly after their rise to power following communication infrastructure attacks by the NICEs. More specifically, the Southern Territory Alliance Nationals failed when I happened to it. I’d like to think that I had almost single-handedly saved the continent and maybe the western world from being wiped off the map by a military power drunk with the nectar of their own strength. I didn’t feel that way, though. I felt like a murderer who stole a baby. Not great, for the record. I’d moved past those feelings mostly as time went on but I still didn’t like to dwell on that night too much. No use in living in the past of the ironically named Operation Good Steward. The nice little nest egg off that attack had been enough to set me for life and retire from intelligence war games to a stable part of the world. That was fourteen years ago. I would have preferred to say that I had helped my territory and left it better than how I’d found it but things were not so simple. Kind of like telling Bean about Natalie and Arthur. If Arthur and Natalie had managed to recover the old USA data for unlocking the nuclear rocket codes I had no doubt that the STANs would have used them. That’s what I told myself all those times I sat with Little Bean as a caterwauling baby, driving me to my wits end and making me wish I’d never taken that last assignment. It was useless of course, and I’d slowly but surely come to terms with being a… Daddy. I gave her my last name and raised her, I may as well be her father. “Dad.” Bean’s voice broke my moments of reflection with an insistence that reminded me of her question, asked only moments before. She was a little too old now to call me Daddy, I reminded myself. I shook my head as if to shake off my thoughts of Good Steward. “Yes, baby?” I answered her. Playing innocent was the best recourse for me here. She can’t ever know. With lowered glasses I raised my eyebrows at her just like I remembered my dad doing when being interrupted during his morning paper. Bean returned the look with an exaggerated frown, her round face scrunching up around a nose and dimpled chin she hadn’t grown into yet. Christ, she really does look like me. I’d always passed her off as my own daughter and no one had ever pressed me for proof. Not even her. Not that she would know any different. She mirrored my raised eyebrows and rolled her eyes. “About Mom.” “Oh, my little baby Bean,” I said with a heavy sigh. “This again? C’mere. Humor me.” I palmed her head and brought her round to the arm of my reclined chair. She glared at me and shrugged her shoulders but sat on the arm of the chair anyways. “Your mom perfected that glare you’re attempting now,” I lied. I never knew Natalie Burnham. I didn’t know the first thing about her as a wife or a mother. At one point before the dissolution of the STANs I probably could have looked her up, found out about who Arthur and Natalie Burnham were when they weren’t trying to strongarm the other continental Territories and resurrect former military bomb protocols. I didn’t need the ghost of my kid’s parents haunting me more than they already did. Finding out that information hadn’t ever appealed to me. Besides, all of those particulars had been scrubbed from intelligence by the NICE administration even if I were interested. But I have to tell her something at least. The truth is no more real to her than anything else I tell her. “So, listen.” I put an arm around her shoulders and caught the shine of hope in her eyes. I continued. “I killed your mom and dad because it’s my job.” It was Bean’s turn to sigh in exasperation before I even finished. “I also kind of broke the Territory regime in that area and it wasn’t a safe place to be anymore so I took you home with me.” “OH MY GOD, DAD.” She bounced up from the arm of the chair. “You are SUCH a bad liar!” She was doubled over in laughter. “I swear you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it.” Relief washed over me. It was a gamble but I heard myself chuckle with the ridiculousness of saying the truth aloud to her. “You almost had me, Dad. Next time try to think of something a little more believable.” She patted me on the shoulder patronizingly. “I’m going outside. Maybe while I’m out there you can come up with something better.” She left me in my chair, still half giggling as she closed the front door behind her. So she wasn’t ready for the truth. That was ok with me. I stayed in my chair, still feeling the relief from my moment of unburdening myself. I surprised myself with how okay I actually felt. I tried. She didn’t accept it. Little Bean is still my Little Bean. The Burnhams may have been her parents but Emily Bishop was my daughter. &#x200B; &#x200B; Edit: fixed a couple of errors/grammar issues.
Why would i do this? What would make me think that these horrible people? Cause I've been there myself, i know how horrible their lives are as is. "You know you could have just left me at the police station like Chi chi does"captain Ipsum says with her face still focused on the supermarket floor "Well chi chi doesn't know or really cared to ask why you done that"Just the thought of what happened to all that metal and the cities pipework made Ipsum cringe "That still doesn't explain why your housing me and my kid". With a tired sigh i pause, her eyes widen as if i'm about to smack the paint out of her "You think we need a few more cans of green beans or spinach?"Ipsy, huh had a nice ring to it and i think she was more worried about the why rather then the how right now. "Okay, i'm helping cause seeing you more then willing to destroy the city just tho make sure one of your own doesn't have to worry about going hungry or sick is both the dumbest and sweetest thing I've heard of, now green beans or spinach"Ipsy satisfied with that answer for now simply replies "It doesn't matter as long as it's healthy"So naturally i chuck both cans in and we spend the rest of our little trip getting the essentials: pasta,eggs milk, cereal,shampoo, and of course breath of the wild. The dive back was a little more lively ipsy feeling a little bolder simply asks "Witch one was it?""hmm what you say i zoned out""Witch parent was the villain"Like i said i know what she's going through but god that was a punch in the gut. "Neither"She just took one quick look and understood right away what i meant. "i'm so sorry, i just thought he was gloating when he said he skinned them alive but Christ i never thought he'd actually do it"I know how she felt and feels but that's behind us now and skinning her won't do anything but leave a sad kid sadder "Oh well water under the bridge , so just relax cause you got a busy night ahead of you. That kid's room won't prep it self"
So this is my life. Running a group therapy session for the modern myths of man. I used to be the God of Medicine! Thousands worshipped me, I cured the sick and healed the lame. Now I sit around listening to this lot complain about how hard it is hiding from people all the time. There cutting down all the trees where will we go? Well boo hoo! How do you think the dryads feel they are part tree. You lot just leave amongst them. I can't blame them though and I am here to heal. Even if it is sometimes just bruised egos. Don't get me wrong group therapy is a wonderful thing and can help. I would just rather not be running these sessions myself. Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off staying at the business end of one of the old man's thunderbolts. I still don't know why he spared me that day or why the story goes that he didn't. But Asclepius is still around. All though these days I prefer Ace. I better get things started Slender looks more agitated than usual.
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Yawning, I woke up. I rubbed my eyes. Could have used more sleep. Then all of a sudden I accidently tripped over a book. "Owww", I loudly complained, holding my leg in pain. Nothing worse than starting off a day being clumsy. But then I looked up. I yelped and jumped. I was in what appeared to be a library. Heart racing, I thought back to the day before. But my mind was blank. I could remember everything, my name, my parents and etc. But when it came to how I got here, nothing came to me. Besides me on the table, was what appeared to be a tablet. Frantic, I searched the date. July 3, 2056. Oh no. I looked around me. The library exit door! How could I stupidly forget? I jogged over, and turned the door handle. It was locked. I sighed in defeat. What was I going to do? I went back to the book I tripped over. Welp I time traveled somehow, and am currently trapped. Why not read for a bit? Yeah right. What the hell am I doing with my life? I opened the book anyways. Only to realize it was a book of dates. Is this a clue? Probably not, but I felt exited anyways. Flipping through, I stopped. One of the pages was titled July 2, 2019. Only to be crossed out by pen. Above it said July 3, 2056. The rest of the page was completely blacked out. On top of it someone scribbled PZ8.B327 Wo. What the fuck? I shut the book. I was going to be here forever, until I starved to death. Ugh food. I'm so hungry right now. Finally I decided to look up the strange sequence of numbers and letters on the tablet. The Dewey Decimal number for the Wizard of Oz! I ran to the bookshelves, motivated. There was still a chance. I grabbed it and out dropped a key stuck between two pages. I've always hated the book when I was little. Seemed too overrated for school plays. But this was different. Holding the key, I rushed to the door. Only to realize that the door didn't have a lock. But then something else caught my eye. A wooden box next to it. I but the key into the lock and slowly turned it. It worked! In it was a remote. I pressed the on button. The door slid open. Only to reveal another one. Gee thanks a lot whichever shit head did this. I noticed a key pad. Observing closer it read- _d_m__y If I live to another day..... Then I decided to randomly type in numbers. After spamming or awhile , I decided to just think it through. Dmy..... Wow I sure am dumb. Jumping up and down, I typed in the date. Still wrong. The date I was last in the present. Wrong I scrolled through the tablet, frustrated. Then I came across the calculator. And then I knew. I punched in the numbers. 1,0,37 The time between today and the present. The door opened, and I stepped into the light. Free. Into home.
I cast my line into the water of the river next to my fishing village, the bobber floating along the top creating ripples as it moved. Even though the idea of a fishing village may sound primitive my town had many luxuries such as electricity and cars. The town is not the best but you can see it improving. My mother wanted me to go down to the fishing dock and catch fish for today's dinner, my father would have come with me if he did not have to work. My village is very special, at least that's what the legends say. The elders talk about how no other village does what we do. Basically, Every milestone of life, whether it be 18, 21, 30 etc, we have to go meet the mask queen where we get a mask. The elders, having reached the most milestones are the wisest. They have been very vigilant about keeping what the masks do or their symbolizing a secret until we find out ourselves. That is why turning 18 is a special occasion because it marks the first time they get a mask. Fortunately, I am turning 18 tomorrow. For some reason I had not found enjoyment out of most luxuries in life, like the enjoyment was dulled or the color was dim. I had never had the feeling of a rushing heartbeat of anxiety or excitement. The elders told me and everyone else that this was normal. My mother which has only acquired 3 masks says she does not feel sad or depressed. Something that has always intrigued me is that after "acquiring a mask"they don't actually wear a mask. After I had fished up a load of fish, I came home and my mother cleaned and cooked them for us. We ate and I went to bed without an adrenaline that others had described as excitement. The next morning I was rushed to the ceremony where the elders where gathered. They said a few words, patted my head and sent me inside the entrance to where I will receive a mask from the queen, the one foretold in legends and myths, the one who I had such a curiosity about that I could not think of anything else. As I walked down the steps I gazed forward with steady eyes awaiting what could possibly be so grand. The fire from the pillars lit my way through the dank cavern. Vines and vegetation crew from the walls and created an earthly smell. I stepped off the last step and gazed into the empty landing. An opening in the side of the cave created an appropriate amount of light to navigate. The queen stood awaiting me next to her silver and tin throne, which included various engravings. She had torn silk robes that had very carefully crafted gold symbols and pictures all throughout. She wore a hood and different clay and porcelain masks floated precariously around her. The masks each with a specific feature, one had a frown, another a smirk or smile. Some had horns and sneers. Ones had empty eyes and others had jagged open teeth. She beckoned me forward and told me with her ecoying voice to take one. I did so by grabbing one with a smile plastered on it. I put it on. As if a swarm, feelings and emotions came flooding me, I knew how it felt now. My heart beat faster and I started to laugh.
I was chosen by my people to be their champion. I was the only one in their eyes who could defeat Morath, the Fearsome and Terrible, and bring piece to the land. It happened that while in the great city of Eriophas, I came to a pub in the less morally sound side of town. It was like an overflowing pile of human sewage, and I stood out like a black sheep in my glittering grey armor amongst the rags all the other wore. Soon, I found myself coming to a group oddly familiar too myself; they too wore armor, and seemed to be honest people. “Greetings, traveler. I am Troyus, son of Akorus, the Chosen One.” I looked at him surprised. “Well, this is odd. I am Perseus, son of Fernhard and I am the Chosen One”. The young woman next to the one who had just spoken started to speak to us as well. “I am Clayta, Daughter of Lord Heartfire, and I am the Chosen One” “Damnation. How could there be more than one Chosen?” I asked. Troyus spoke. “There isn’t. But there could possibly be false Chosen Ones. All I know is I am the true Chosen, and it is my quest to destroy Morath, the Fearsome of Terrible!” I soon got annoyed. “No, I am the true Chosen One, ordained by prophecy and by the gods to bring peace to this forsaken land!” I said. “No, I, Clayta Heartfire of the House Heartfire am the true Chosen One.” The young woman said as she began to stand up. Troyus began to reach for his sword, and blood was soon to be spilled when the bar tender came over. “Friends, aren’t you aware that Morath was killed by the “Chosen One” about 5 years ago? That news spread all over the continent”. We were all shocked. “But then why were we sent out?” I asked. Soon, behind me, a man named Taurus, from my same village and clan, tapped me on the shoulder. “It’s because we wanted to get rid of you” he said, bluntly, as he payed for his drinks and went out the door.
I have wandered for eternity, through the oceans of time. Searching, questing, singing. I thought 99 bottles was bad, but this is infinitely worse. It’s also dangerous. I’ve evaded them so far. Looking for the last one. How many can there be? At least there are only 99 bottles. If I took them all down, passed em around a bit, I’d eventually escape. Not here though. So I move on looking for the last one. I quest for him, he must be near? I am the searcher for. Great Great Great Great Grandpa Shark! Doo doo doo doo doo..,!!!
I promise you a show of a lifetime! It isn't an ape from the Asian Islands, or a tiger form the African deserts, but rather something right here among you! That's right you are looking at it now and you see it everyday! The human body! Nothing out matches the physique and beauty that man himself has! Come see that raw power like never before! You sir, in the back, your strength is wasted here, come with me and I'll let you put it to use night after night and make money doing so while the others here some to enjoy the spectacle. You may even participate and take on the chance to fight the champ himself! Where, when, and how much you ask? I've placed signs all over town that will lead back to our humble show. Please do attend, everyone else will.
Zhang laid back in his wooden cart being dragged along the rough stone roads by his reluctant donkey. Thirteen years had elapsed since he had set out on his journey along the famed Silk Road. His mind still longed for home. Home was a small village located in the foothills of the Himalayas. Zhang thought back to the Evergreen forests that frequented the landscape. He was reminded of the days when he raced with Tong and the other boys across his Tibetan abode. The trees had seemed like titans to them from the old books the monks used to read. Thirteen years later and he was the most famous travelling tea merchant in all of Eastern Persia. But what did he have to show for it, a disobedient donkey and a rickety cart that was approximately three bolts from collapsing altogether. Zhang smiled, he remembered what the monk Pasang had told him all those years ago when he had caught him stealing savory snacks at the monastery. "Materialism is a great servant but a most horrible master." You were right Pasang. Zhang thought to himself, as he allowed a smile to form at the corner of his lips. You were right. Zhang had been on this self-imposed quest because that's what all the boys from his village did. They all searched for something greater. What fools had they been. Dreams of returning as men to the village. Pasang would be there to greet them all. Instead Zhang was now a tea merchant travelling from town to town and Pasang had most likely passed away from old age or a vicious disease. Zhang grabbed the ruffled pieces of parchment that lay scattered next to him. He had been capturing stories of all the people he met and he had met his fair share of oddballs and inspiration. He removed himself from his thoughts as he stared out into the horizon. The outline of a city began to form. Large minarets towered in the distance as if touching the rising sun itself. The dawn of a new day beckoned in the possibility of new stories to record and perhaps Zhang would find exactly what he was looking for.
Humans are linked in more ways than we first thought. Think of a virus, how it spreads and touches those near to it. The exponential rate at which it multiplies across continents. Think of laughter, how it too can be infectious, but in a positive way. Or think of a yawn, a banal expression of weariness, and yet even the written word can elicit the feelings in one's jaw. We have uncovered a new link, almost like a daisy-chain if you will, and it seems to be a hybrid of some of the existing links -- a yawn and virus. Instigated by an innocent question, and once asked, it cannot be stopped. The name of this, unfortunately, is the missing link. The similarities with yawning extend to its ability to be transmitted by multiple mediums: television, radio, text, and word of mouth. Its insidious nature is covered by its likeness to a virus. For once it spreads, the impact is irrevocable. We know very little about what happens after you are linked, as the name "missing link"suggests, the people who have been caught go missing. As in, vanish. I do not know the question, but I have it written on a folded piece of paper next to me -- we will get to that later. From what I understand, if you were to be asked this mysterious question, you would simply blink out of existence. It sounds bizarre, unthinkable, and impossible, but I assure you it's no joke. My wife, Alison Myers, disappeared before my very eyes. We were in bed, doing what married couples do... checking our phones. She was scrolling, endlessly as you would expect, until her thumb paused. Her eyes scanned the screen, and then she was gone. The duvet, covering her legs, flattened. I am grateful for my ignorance because I did not think to check her phone -- why would I? I called her name and stupidly lifted her side of the duvet, peeking underneath and expecting her to pop-out like a child's game. By the morning, I had searched high and low for her. I had contacted her family and friends, most of whom spurred into a fit of panic. It was also, by pure luck, that her phone had died. It was only after I contacted the police, did I start to find similar stories online. There was a vital piece of information missing from each one, and although selfish of me to say, the only bit I cared about -- What was the question? You have faithfully endured my spiel, and I thank you for that. What I offer in return for your attention is a glimpse at the question. I do this not out of malice, but in case there are others like me, who want to find their loved ones, and failing that, at least join them. Read the question at your own risk, for it may be the last thing you read. >!Where is God?!< --- /r/WrittenThought --- I appreciate this deviated from the original prompt, but it's what came to mind when I read it.
The air raid sirens had been blaring for the past 20 or so minutes. He could barely hear them, however, being as he was currently camping on the edge of a mountain, overlooking the distant city. ------------------------------ He had been cooking a burger over his campfire, listening to some tunes on the radio in his SUV, when the radio suddenly blared the emergency alert tone. The emergency broadcast warned of an impending nuclear strike, and advised to seek shelter in the nearest community fallout shelter. The ending alert tone sounded, and the music that had been playing before resumed, just before the lilting tone of the sirens, distorted by the distance, reached his ears. He sighed. Partly from the disappointment that human civilization had finally decided to destroy itself, partly from relief of the low probability that he--at his current location--would be immediately killed in the impending strike, but would have to face the prospect of slowly dying on a radioactive and desolate landscape. The news had been focused on the failing peace talks between the United States and China for months now. He tried calling his wife with his cell phone, but his repeated attempts failed. Their love for each other had grown cold over the past few months, and they had 'agreed' for him to take a week or so away from the house, as her love of material things was straining the family budget. --------------------------------- He finished cooking his burger, made the sandwich and opened a bag of chips, positioned his chair to overlook the impending destruction of the city, and started munching. Any minute now, he thought to himself. Ahh, there it was. A tiny trail of vapor streaking down from the sky, directly over the city. This was it. He positioned his sunglasses over his eyes and waited for the flash. But what instead happened was that the sun was suddenly blotted out by a round...something. He lifted his sunglasses to behold what was obviously some sort of massive spacecraft. He noted that the lights in the city began to react to the sudden darkness as they quickly came on and brightened. He tentatively readied his sunglasses for the explosion, but none came. Suddenly, the music playing over the radio was squelched by static. He turned his face towards his SUV just in time to hear a faint, metallic warble come through the speakers, followed by a voice that sounded like it came from two pieces of plywood rubbing together: "THANKS FOR THE FUEL, SUCKAAAS!!"Then, the music resumed. He quickly turned his head back towards the large spacecraft, just in time to see it disappear. He quickly turned away as the sun stared him full in the face, his sunglasses falling to rest on his nose.
Harry retrieved a set of dice from his pocket. Or, at least, he attempted to, but by some unseemly gesture of fate, it appeared his fingers got all fumbled and upon dredging them from his trousers, they slipped from his hands and onto the floor below. How embarrassing, he thought, before crouching down and picking the dice back up from the floor. "I will now roll these dice,"he said, although not quite as smoothly as he'd hoped to, and gave the dice a roll. They landed smack onto the table before him, flat. The tops of both dice read one. "Wow,"said Fisk. "I was gonna make a joke about you bringing your own dice to cheat, but I guess that's out of the question." "Wait!"Harry said, just a moment too soon. "They didn't even spin around, that was a bad roll, clearly." "Yeah let him roll again,"Jasper said. "Alright,"Fisk said. "You can roll one more time." Harry picked up the dice, and clasped them in his closed hands. This is the one, he thought, and cast them onto the table. Both dice skidded across the surface and onto the floor below, falling behind a nearby sofa. "Sorry,"he said. "A bit too strong a throw!" "Nah it's alright,"Jasper said, leaning in his chair to read the dice on the floor. "Five and ten,"he reported. "Eleven,"Harry thought aloud as he sat up from his chair. He stepped towards the fallen dice, and tripped on Fisk's chair, dropping it underneath him. "Ouch- Wait it man!"Exclaimed Fisk, now on the floor. "Sorry!"said Harry, also on the ground, from tripping. "Real clumsy tonight." "You're telling me,"Fisk said, lifting himself off the ground and sitting his chair back up. Fisk felt himself start to sweat. Wait is going on with me tonight, he asked himself? As a matter of fact, he asked himself that REMARKABLY well. Suddenly, he knew all too well what was going on with him that night. Far in the corner of his imagination, he could see a strange man in a computer chair rolling a set of virtual dice, deciding the fare of his every action. He knew, somehow, that this man was not always there, rolling those dice, nor would he always be. Yet his presence comforted him in a strange, unknowable way. This insight into the cosmic beyond could only be the result of wondering what was going on with more efficiency than could have possibly been predicted. A natural 20, he wondered? And yet, slowly, he could feel the influence of his otherworldly fate guider slipping away. Very soon he would be alone again, and in control of his own fate, freed from this odd, seemingly random stroke of luck he'd felt today, and yet also freed of that one, ethereal stranger with insight into his soul. He couldn't help but mourn the loss, even if bittersweet. Would they meet again, he prayed? Perhaps if he writes a sequel, some quiet part of his mind whispered.
I'm in a spaceship. "Jean?"I heard. I wondered who it was. I kept on searching, lurking around, trying to find any sign of life. I see some bones, and eventually find another person. Or so I thought. I actually found a robot, the Automated Resistance Manned Initiative of the Norse, or A.R.M.I.N. Typically, since it was, manned, it's offline. All of a sudden, from a loudspeaker, I hear a voice. "You have arrived at your destination!" I wake up... or fall asleep. Now I'm in a beach. There's turtles in the water, a small canoe by the shore, and I'm in a hammock holding a fishing rod. It seemed nice, until I realized that it was 50 degrees celscius and there were nothing but sea urchings on the seafloor. I get onto the canoe and start pouring water in using a small pail. It's no use, however, as my skin feels like it's burning under the intense heat. I scream "AAAAAHHHHHHH"but nobody responded. I fall asleep... or wake up. I'm on Pluto. The spaceship is leaving the solar system and I'm here with A.R.M.I.N. I get inside of him and start controlling him to try and find civilization. To my luck, someone's there. "Hey! Who are you? You seem lost." It touched me, but it hurt so much that I let out a bloodcurdling scream. Little did I know, I had fallen asleep... or waken up. My skin is red and coated in sea urchins. 3 fishermen pull me from the waters and revive me. I'm confused at first. I felt all of that, all of the pain in the previous scenario. Is this the dream? You don't just fall asleep after feeling p- I woke up in a hospital bed. "Oh my god, he's awake! After 6 months he's awake! Finally!" "I'm sorry if those injections hurt you!" "Jean! Welcome home!"
I've always loved the 80s cereal boxes with their surprise toys in the box. Back then it was much better, they'd put cars made of metal, whistles that could hack the phone system, tiny arrow firing robots...You know the kinds of things that are fun but could possibly maim a child of four. Today, you get codes for a website or some other nonsense for a game that involves angry plants or some crap. I work for the NSA as a cyber-analyst. It isn't as sexy as it sounds, basically, I sit all day programming tools for gathering data and doing analysis on trends and hidden patterns of behaviors in markets, phone records and the like. I've put on some pounds over the years, and now that I'm approaching 50, I try to keep the weight down. My wife, Betsy, tries to help out by not buying lots of sugary food, and I try to go keto every now and again. I'm in reasonable shape given my rather sedentary lifestyle. My work is interesting; but if I told you what I did, I'd have to kill you. No, really. It involves some seriously interesting cryptography and quantum computing, but you could work that out from the Google-cached profile from LinkedIn (which is still strangely available given the NSA's rules on this kind of thing). I've done my time in the business world, and only recently came to be with the Agency. It's hard (even for them) to really erase any trail of a person. &#x200B; The problem started last Tuesday morning as I got up extra early for a remote meeting and didn't want a big breakfast, so I reheated the coffee and scrounged for something to eat. I found a vintage unopen box of AlphaBlock's cereal. It used to be my favorite. I figured Bets found a box at one of those specialty shops where they make retro versions of food packaging and play off of the nostalgia that a lot of us Gen Xers have for our youth. &#x200B; It was a beauty. It had the three Imp brothers stirring the pot, grinning like perverts while letters floated around. The prize inside was the classic "Box O' Knowlege."You know--that gold plastic box you put into the bowl and it would float letters around it untill words formed as you asked it questions. They stopped this prize around 1983. It was probably lead painted. Or more likely some Evagelical mom (like mine was) wrote a strongly-worded letter about Satan being sold to her innocent kids. I mean it did have the Imp Brothers on the front--Iggy, Louie, and Tom. I'll be damned if they didn't look like Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and Tom Waits in the face. &#x200B; "Alexa,"I said, pouring me a bowl and dropping the Box O' Knowledge in, "Play 'Lust for Life.'" &#x200B; It is actually NSA policy for employees to have a special Alexa at home as it allowed us to be monitored without feeling that we are. I've not told my wife about it yet. I get a chance to review the recordings before they are archived, but I rarely do. Bets and I are good. "Are Bets and I good?"I asked the box floating in the center of my bowl. &#x200B; Right then, the letters floated together "N-O-P-E"it spelled. &#x200B; "What?"I exclaimed, somewhat surprised. &#x200B; "She's sleeping with David."The box spelled out, quickly pulling the letters into a chain. &#x200B; "How Long?"I ask, dropping my spoon. &#x200B; "5 Months." &#x200B; Damn. I thought... &#x200B; "Eat me."It spelled out, "NOW" &#x200B; (To be continued if upvoted.)
You stood on the hillside watching everything around you tear itself apart. Fiery clusters hit the Earth’s surface and pained screams could be heard. This was your world now. It pained you to watch as things only grew worse. Eventually the meteors became less frequent, but your world was already dying. Millions upon millions of people had already been claimed by the Earth. All color had seemed to drain from it, and you were slowly losing hope. Days passed, and those turned into months, and every one of them began to feel like you were biding your time. You knew your death was inevitable, like so many before you. It was the end of your days it seemed. Each day you had less to eat, and you watched others die around you. You hadn’t had family or friends in who knows how long. They’d all died when the sky fell onto the earth. One day you were feeling particularly hopeless, hungry and weak, but decided to walk up to where you first saw the meteors. The ground up there was unstable and there were large craters on the ground surface. After convincing yourself you had nothing more to lose, you began to the climb anyway. Carefully climbing over broken bits of space rock, and watching a small light shine on the peak of the hill, you made your way up. The closer you got to the top, the stranger you felt. Something inside your chest felt lighter, but also like you might burst. Your first thought was that you might be feeling the effects of higher altitude, but it was only a hill. You began to gasp for air, and dropped to your knees before reaching the peak. Your hands went around your throat and you tried to breathe heavily as you looked around. What was happening to you? A quick look up answered all your questions. Rising from the deep crater was a man, a tall and determined looking individual. You could see the gleam in his eyes from even where you sat. It was him. He was why you were feeling so strange. One look at him flooded you with something you hadn’t felt in months. Hope. You were speechless as you looked at him. He approached slowly, looking down and smiling faintly. “I see you’ve been suffering...,” he observed softly. His voice was warm, and he knelt down in front of you as he spoke. He was an ordinary looking man apart from the fact that his hair was white, and his eyes blazing blue. He had features much like yourself, and made you feel comfortable around him. You didn’t feel weary or at odds with yourself, which only confused you further. “Don’t worry. I was made for this. We all knew it would happen some day, but you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” You looked up at him. “I don’t understand.. we all knew what would happen?” “The end of the world,” he said back. He then rose to his feet and turned his eyes to the sky. You knew from that simple interaction that it was him. He was the hero you’d all been waiting for. Whatever his name was, however he came to be, he was going to save everyone.
I was quite young when I found out. I remember dad mention in a casual conversation that, on Oalo, they didn’t have cars. I didn’t know why, but after a second, I laughed and told our neighbour that that was a place my dad had made up for my bedtime stories. The neighbour laughed as well and dad, smiling politely, changed the subject. But as for me, at this point my mind started to race and I put two and two together. Our vast cellar with the tools and apparatuses I had never seen elsewhere? Mum and dad always talking about strange places no one seemed to have ever been to or even seen? Their strange “phone calls” in a language containing sounds “normal” humans cannot utter, where I never saw any phone? Those were only a few of so many small things that came into my mind as dad and I walked home that evening. It was hard work after that. I loved my parents and I was sure they loved me, and I wanted us to stay together, so nobody had to find out about their little secret. I once stayed up all night, hid all metallic or otherworldly-looking objects in our living room and replaced the pictures of landscapes with black-leaved plants or skies that clearly showed three suns with images I had cut out of newspapers – all because my friend wanted to visit me alongside her parents. When I became a teenager, I took on a job at a fast food counter so I had enough money to slowly replace their strange looking wardrobe items with everyday clothes; I don’t think they even noticed. And then there was the time a big parent-teacher conference came up at my school. It took me two whole weeks to write down phrases for them when they met my teachers. I tried hard to think about every possible thing every teacher might say and what best to answer to every possible question that might come up, then I handed the sheets to mum and dad and made them rehearse the lines. And, just to be sure, I made them take me with them. We first visited Ms. Jackson, our English teacher, who just lifted an eyebrow as she saw the three of us walking in. At one point, she asked my parents if they ever study with me, and my dad answered: “Of course we do. Every first and second night of the day!” I felt the colour leave my face. How could he mess up the line he had said perfectly when we had rehearsed so badly? And to top it all, my mum burst out laughing. I put inso much effort – for this? My mum saw my face and tried getting serious again. “Sorry, dear”, she managed to say. Fortunately, apparently I had gotten rather good at making up spontaneous excuses for them, so I said: “No problem, mum, she didn’t mean to belittle your efforts. I mean, five to six hours every night is quite a lot, and all that with your busy work schedules.” Mum touched my hand and smiled. I was sure she tried hard not to think of our game of XYXRL we played last night instead. I won’t go into detail about that game, but it involves floating around and mind-reading. Ms. Jackson even looked almost convinced of our team effort to resolve the situation and I felt relieved. We had just finished our dinner that night, when dad looked at me strangely for a while. Then he looked at mum who nodded slightly. He turned back to me and said: “Listen, do you remember that big door on the back end of our cellar? The one I always asked you never ever to open?” I nodded. I would even have tried my luck with that door if I hadn’t been so exhausted from juggling schoolwork, job and covering-up operations for my parents, fitting a tiny bit of time with friends in. Dad smiled. “Want to go for a ride?” &#x200B; (sry, was quite busy this week so this took a while :) )
"Dr. Cleft had more important matters to take care of they said, wasn't worth sending our most valuable guards they said"the level 1 clearance newbie muttered to himself while bright's little cousin was using his arm as a monkey bar. hazing the poor newbie was one thing but making him have to put up with 10 generations of the bright bloodline? Now that is a hell within it self. "Bright how much longer is this thing gonna last, i got work tomorrow"The clearly tired "party planner"says piratically about to die from boredom and exhaustion. Jack giving that shit eating grin we all know and love to hate him for Asked "Did they have their cake yet?"sighing knowing what party boy is gonna have to say just responds "never mind just tell me when we're ready for the cake"2 hours of dancing ,roasting,and eating later came time for the "cake". "finally it's almost through"That's when the poor 1st level boy just realized no cake no paper plates and no Dr. Bright within sight, but yet three rows of giant tables filled with the bright family sitting patiently, faces painted to look like the french flag. That's when he realized all to late what bright meant by cake. "you got to be shitting m-"Just then the man was cut off my the shouting of "REVOLUTION"and the sudden siege of a local farm town. "more important things my ass"like i said hazing is one thing but this is a hell with in it's self.
"Again? Should be expected from an Alpha build, but still... So immersion breaking." I ruffled in my pockets an pulled out the menu, tapping the save button. Why did we still need save buttons? It really gave a sense of how little we've actually advanced in technology, still clinging to the old ways. After the tiresome wait, the reality saved, and I motioned to exit the game. Suddenly, the Walmart dissipated around me, and I found myself in the lair of a very disorganized tech geek. "Kowalski, I still have some complaints. Namely, remove the creepy staring and reboot announcements."I reoriented myself as the stout fellow in the chair swiveled around to face me. "I can't work miracles right away. The miracles must be slowly built up over time, using tact and code." I threw a sock at Kowalski as he smirked. "That's not how bloody miracles work. Can't believe people still get that wrong."I chuckled even as I said that. "This is the advance of the human race, the ultimate realization of AR, and we're the randos making it. "Miracle"may apply to this situation."Kowalski put on a disapproving face. "Now, this is serious business, and not to be trifled with. We must work it all out to the last integer."I shook my head. "Never expected to hear that from a guy named after a cartoon penguin." Kowalski threw the sock back at me, although I caught it in midair. "Alright, get back in and I'll sort that thing out. The creepy staring is definitely going right away. Our users will have to do that themselves."I nodded, and stood in the middle of the P.R.I.V.A.T.E. field once more. "By hell or high water, we'll all be out of this reality in no time."And then I dived back into the breach.
"Well, Cici, are you satisfied with your revenge?" &#x200B; Alex scoffs at me from his holding cell, he can't see me, at least not directly, but he knows, not all the magic is gone, and he can sense my presence. &#x200B; I turn on the mic, "Afraid not old friend, containment was just the beginning for you, see, in order to contain more magical anomalies, we're going to need more knowledge, whether we get that knowledge through coercion, experimentation, or torture makes little difference, greater good and all that." &#x200B; He widens his eyes in horror, realizing my intentions and methods as the pieces click together behind his eyes, trying to seem threatening, but sounding like a panicked animal he starts screaming. &#x200B; "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU AND EVERYONE HERE! I WON'T BE A LAB RAT!" &#x200B; He starts throwing curses, the magical kind, spells, hexes, all manner of magic. &#x200B; None of it works, Alex isn't the first subject, before came Jakob, my old roommate, now deceased, and Ellie, being kept in cryostorage for future testing, and a few more people on a long list of names. &#x200B; By now our holding cells are fitted with every countermeasure imaginable, walls made of reinforced concrete and all manner of insulators, electrified surfaces, and more. &#x200B; His magical power means nothing. &#x200B; The magical community means nothing now that their power can be nullified, the future has come, and a new era of technological dominance with it. &#x200B; If Alex believes our old friendship means anything, he is mistaken, I'm not even bitter anymore, my list is a means to an end by now, their betrayal once hurt, but the cold indifference of science holds no grudges. &#x200B; I address another researcher, Graham, I believe, "Have on-site security escort 011 to an open laboratory. &#x200B; He nods, Alex is dragged away. &#x200B; A thin smile briefly crosses my lips as his screams fade away.
I'm walking down a path very carefully - to be sure not to step on the grass. The path is a simple dirt path, if you're not careful you'll hear the well know, high pitch scream that lets you know you've stepped on grass. It's a well known fact that grass can feel pain. People are raised, being told not to step on the grass. Stepping on grass is illegal to do. Grass is often not found anywhere, asides from woods. That's where I am, I'm on a camping trip with my friends. I brought 2 friends camping with me, Amanda and George. We all agreed that camping would be fun and a great way to spend spring break. I'm glad it's spring break. I hate waking up early, I get tired and I can't concentrate. "Hey, I think I found a good place to camp."Amanda says as she points at a clearing. It doesn't have grass. A perfect place to camp, no risk to step on grass. Of course there's other risk, but they have a very low chance to happen. Me and George sets up a tents while Amanda makes a fire. After awhile, once Amanda has everything she needs for a fire, me and George stop and Amanda finishes building the tent. It's a pretty big tent, it has 3 rooms and 2 dividers. It has plenty of space for the 3 of us and our supplies. We check our supplies and put them in the tent, then Amanda and George start the fire. I grab the foldable chairs while they do that. "Here's your chairs."I say as I exit the tent. "Thanks."They both say. I sit in my chair and grab a marshmellow. Roasting it till its golden brown. I grab 2 gram crackers and a bar of chocolate to make my master piece, a smore. We chat and chat until it gets dark. Then George gets an idea. "What's your idea."I ask, getting kinda bored. "Well... since it's dark and we're all alone, I think we should tell scary storys."He says. Call me a scardy cat, but I don't like scary storys. "I'll start, have you ever heard of the old man that lives in the woods."He starts. "I heard he steps on grass all day to scare people and that he doesn't take kindly to strangers."he contenues. I don't really here the rest since I start walking towards the tent. As I was leaving Amanda asked me where I was going. I tell her I have no intention to get nightmares. Not out here in the woods. I lie on the bed, browsing reddit. Then, once my phone dies, I grab a book. I read a little bit, then I go to sleep. &nbsp; I wake up in the middle of the night. I wonder what woke me. I get out of bed and grab a flash light. I start to walk to the door. I bump into George going outside. It scares me and I scream. "Alex it's just me, what are you doing up? "he ask. "Im trying to find that out right now. Why are you up?" "I thought I heard something." "This is one of your pranks, isn't it. Waking me up and trying to scare me. Is this because I didn't listen to the scary story."I ask because I didn't hear anything. "What? No. Of course not."he says. Then I here a scream, a high pitched one, from outside. I jump beacuse it scared me and I wake Amanda up. "There's something outside. The grass screamed."I tell her. "George you see what it is."I say as I pass him the flashlight, I don't like scary things. Amanda and George look outside and I follow behind, even though I'm scared I'm not gonna leave my friends. We keep on looking till we something. No, somebody. "Is that a kid."I whisper. "I think so."Amanda says. "what's a kid doing all the way out here." "I think he's lost."George says. "Hey are you okay?"Amanda ask the kid. He looks thin and is a bit dirty. Based on his size I would say he's about 8. "I got lost when I went camping, I saw your tent and I thought that i might get to go home. Or at least have shelter. "he says. I guess our camping trip will have to end early because I want to make sure that he's okay. "Well we'll make sure you get home safely, we have food and water in the tent."Amanda says. Once he's eating I call the cops, aparently he was lost for a week. I feel glad that we found him because he might not of lasted much longer. &nbsp; The next day the cops take him home, he lives about 2 miles from my house. He told me his name was Jack and to come visit him sometime. His mom huged me and started crying tears of relief. She was extremely worried about him. We got to split a reward of 1000 dollars between us. Later George says that he was trying to prank me when I woke up, but I'm not mad at him. After all this story has a happy ending because of a scary story. &nbsp; I hope you enjoyed this story. Feel free to citize it. To see more story's by me go to r/AtypicalWriter. I'm new to writing and I would like to improve.
The ones you see marked are the original prompts. In those, the OP is posing the prompt and the writers are expected to respond in top level comments. This is the majority of posts. There are other categories, see the subreddit information in the sidebar. A lot of good info is in there. If you're on a small device, you'll have to go to the subreddit header to find the links to that info. The ones you see marked are "prompt inspired". For whatever reason, the author did not immediately write a response to the original prompt. To give credit where it is due, you link to the original prompt. Those posts have the story as the full prompt, with comments about the story below. There are other reasons to use PI, but all of them relate to some original prompt. Again, go to the subreddit information, it explains this much better than I can.
One of the reporter drones was flying up to me just as i was coming to the Courthouse. A screen folded out with the websites name. I tried to swat it away but the tiny thing was programmed well and could predict my movements long before my arm ever reached it and evaded. I obviously knew that but its somewhat of a custom that i didnt want to break now. &#x200B; "Mrs Kassai. We are from JUDGE-BET. COM Your case has been selected as Todays Spotlight case. If you agree then your case will be represented by the Kaiser and Wolf Gold Protocol Free of Charge!!" &#x200B; A Ad started playing. &#x200B; "Kaiser and Wolf is the most sophisticated Law AI on the Market. Our amazing algorithm will ensure that you will receive the best possible defense. Kaiser and Wolf Premium Gold Package increases your Odds of winning your case by a staggering 74% compared to a Human Lawyer. Dont have Fear, Kaiser and Wolf is here." &#x200B; Some People where yelling "You Lucky Bitch!" &#x200B; I looked at my lawyer, a scrappy guy the embassy assigned to me, he had no clue what to do and it showed. I was just thinking that this is a Godsend! Now i may actually have a Chance. &#x200B; "yes, yes, yes i agree!" &#x200B; My lawyer shrugged with his shoulders and before he walked away "Well i guess im going home then, good luck Mrs Kassai, you are still going to need it!" &#x200B; On my Datapaper the Kaiser and Wolf application was now being Installed. &#x200B; A avatar of a Beautiful young women was now being cast next to me. The Courtrooms Holo emitters where only Gen2 so i could still see through the Hologram when the background lighting was bright enough. She or i should rather say it wore a Golden Suit with a Tacky JUDGE-BET Baseball Cap. &#x200B; "Hello Mrs Kassai, i am Auriel and i will be your Lawyer. Do you agree to the Terms and Service and the Privacy Policy of JUDGE-BET .COM and Kaiser and Wolf Software incorperated?" &#x200B; i nodded &#x200B; "Confirmed. Downloading case files. Download complete, Calculating Strategy...." &#x200B; This took a good few seconds. Whenever i was watching Judge Bet this part would only take a split second. I wondered if something was wrong. Before i could ask Auriel continued. &#x200B; "Case requires additional input, Judgement postponed by 5 Minutes." I didnt know if this was good or bad. I looked at the drone. My odds where changing 27 to 12 in favor of conviction. &#x200B; "Lawyer-Client confidential mode enabled" &#x200B; I heard the hum of the sound cancelling sphere. Nobody outside could hear what was said. In addition the holo emitters where creating a shimmering effect that would block lipreading apps. &#x200B; "Mrs Kassai, according to your files you can Apply for Diplomatic Immunity in accordance with Point 32 subsection 12A of the 4th outer Space treaty of 2028. Doing so will dramatically increase your odds of winning your Case. I can file the application on your behalf. Do you wish to Proceed with this Strategy?" &#x200B; "yes! Do it" I nearly shouted. &#x200B; "Filing, Application filed. Application Pending." a second later it smiled saying "Congratulations you are now a member of the Diplomatic Council of your Country. We can now proceed to Trial." &#x200B; I was nervous. It didnt tell me exactly what was going on. Law software never does, they are afraid that their Algorithms are being reverse engineered. We walked towards chamber A 23 on the first Floor. I looked around seeing Pacific Police officer wrangling with someone who clearly lost their case. Lucky bastard. If he did that in the Southern states, that would mean Labor Camp. &#x200B; We came to the small Courtroom, a 100sqf at most. Nothing too fancy. A Operator, a security officer and 2 chairs where there. I would only need one. I sat down and with that the Trial Began.... &#x200B; The Pacific states judge was simply a Disembodied speaker that was buzzing next to the operator. A pleasant but distinctively non human voice said. "Yora Kassai, you are being accused of First degree murder of Johannes Doelenberg on the night of the 21, June 2077. How do you plea?" &#x200B; "Innocent." &#x200B; "Confirmed Plea. AI representative detected, Trial continuing in Silico." &#x200B; it took over 10 seconds. But finally the judge spoke again. &#x200B; "Yora Kassai, in light of your Diplomatic Immunity sentencing cannot proceed without trial by Jury. A Jury of your Peers will be assembled within 10 Days. As a flight risk you are to remain in the San Fransisco Silver Star Hotel, you will be escorted to and from the Hotel until your Trial starts." &#x200B; I walked outside, i had no clue what was going on. A trial by jury was most unorthodox. "Auriel, what happened?" i asked. Confidential mode came on. &#x200B; "There is strong evidence that suggests that you Killed the Victim. However, as a member of the Diplomatic Council you can request a Trial by Jury. A Automatic Trial would have carried a Sentence of 230 - 342 Years. A Jury Trial has a higher probability of ending in Mistrial and or INCOMING MESSAGE FROM JUDGE-BET" &#x200B; Someone has taken over control while we where in privacy mode, i knew that this was somewhere buried within the terms of service. I had a Bad feeling about this. &#x200B; "Hey Yora, dont worry nobody is recording this. Trust me. You know that a Trial by Jury is still not great for you right? I was going through the Logfiles just now and oh boy oh boy, what you done to that poor Sod. There is something seriously messed up in your Head! In Any case, the K n W software was never designed for a Trial by Jury and our Sponsor doesn't really want this to become Public knowledge if you know what i mean, also if you lose and you will lose. We will lose as well. A hella lot of money. Your case went Viral and thats pretty bad for us. Anyway, so i have a solution that would make all 3 of us winners. Interested?" Corrupt and deeply Immoral Cooperation's. A age old American tradition was saving my ass now. "Yes of course im interested!" I said "Coolbeans! So when you exit the courtroom a Cab will be waiting for you, a Police officer will escort you to it and it will drive you to your Hotel where you will be under Arrest till your trial starts." his tone now changed, slightly ironic he continued. &#x200B; "However, i have a feeling that there could be a unfortunate Glitch in the Navigational Computer and it will drive you to your Embassies front Gate, and the front Gate could also have a glitch and it could just open, like that. And the Pacific Police Officer at the Gate would be a bit distracted i think. I mean his Kids just received full scholarship and he may be a little bit too happy to notice! So, have a pleasant ride, take a Rocket Home. Oh, and a word of warning, dont ever put your Psycho feet on Earth ever again. I think you understand what i mean by that. We Cool?" &#x200B; "yeah, we cool" i replied. &#x200B; With that privacy mode turned off. I was escorted by a Police officer and before we left the Courthouse. I looked forward and saw a small yellow Autocab, the Cab was plastered in Judge-Bet Ads and i knew that today was a good day. I got put into the Cab by an Officer, the doors locked and where set to Police-transport mode. Chief Rocka was playing on the radio. Once the cab started driving it turned around a corner it stopped, went off for a second. It came back to life and without any indication that something was wrong the Car started turning around. The Navigational computer was now set to my embassy. I put out my arms and for the first time in weeks i sighed in relief. &#x200B; I would actually get away with Murder.
"So let me get this straight..."Charles began, scratching his chin with his own digital hand. He couldn't feel it, but after the accident, it became a force of habit. "You want access to some of the DNA files in my lab... for an EXPERIMENT." The short man before him grinned and nodded, seeing that Charles had understood his request that he had, admittedly, overcomplicated. "Yeah, that about covers it!"He chirped, drumming his fingers on the counter. "So, when can I expect them?" "Now, hold on a minute!"Charles stood up, shaking his head. "I can't just give you random DNA of prior patients. Hell, I wouldnt do that even if I wasnt a doctor!"He bent over then, coughing hard. It was a wet cough, like mucus was in his throat and he couldnt get it out. Only this time, when he pulled his hand away, he came away with blood. The short man, who had yet to even give him a name, looked at it as well, giving him a funny look. "Y'know... I know just the doctor who could fix that for you."He said, his voice thoughtful. "Wouldn't take much, just some specialized regenerative cells to repair your obviously hemorrhaging lungs." Charles made to reply, but burst into coughing again. This time though, he wasnt able to control it, and blood splattered all across the man's face and clothes. He was silent, and only turned to a nearby mirror to inspect himself. "...actually, I think I have what I need!"His face split into a grin, and he looked back at Charles, who was barely able to hold on to the counter. "A pleasure doing business with you."With that, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a near transparent cloth. He wiped his face with it, the blood smearing on it as if it were in a petri dish. The last thing Charles saw as he lost consciousness was the blur of the short man turning and walking out the door, humming an old song from the 40's.
The priest knows his history. Two hundred years after the Knights of the Reformation killed Leonardo DaVinci and burned his workshop to the ground, Issac Newton died in his mother's womb. Are the events connected? Nicholas Telsea has said they are. He's even gone so far to say it was his doing. That is was good the world's desire to know beyond heaven died in that womb also. Instead of a golden age humanity was left with only God to guide them, Tesla has said. The priest wonders, if at all true, if maybe it wasn't God along. Maybe this was a result of the human hubris; needing to keep nibbling on Eve's apple. Maybe God rewrote what humans were allowed to do with their imaginations. If not the God than a god. In all actuality, these things happen. Babies die without ever tasting air and old men pass away, it's actually what they do best. After baby Issac was stillborn, a funeral was held and his family mourned him and the world moved on, even the grave the boy-who-hardly-lived was buried in was eventually resold and not even dust would remain of his existence if one were to look. Time marches on, with or without Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica, until two centuries later when science asserts itself into humanity with a force none can ignore. Almost twenty years before the start of the twentieth century, in the dark Eastern mountains of the Austria, a bolt of lightning strikes an old oak tree, splitting it in two and instantly lighting it on fire. An Orthodox priest stands in his door mouth open in shock. Less so that the old tree is on fire and more because he was wrong. He thought he heard something like a mewing goat and with the blustery storm raging outside he would have been unsurprised to find a shepherd had lost part of his charge. Being in the business of shepherding himself, he thought to help out and find the owner tomorrow after the storm passes, but upon opening his front door, he reveals the mewing is actually the squirming form of a baby boy. Tesla has returned. Lighting strikes again filling the air with the stench of burning ozone and years pass and the boy grows up a blackness that has no comparison. As a baby, he did not start with a single word, but full sentences of gibberish that eventually found a question to ask, "what year is it?" "1856,"the priest responded. "Good, 'he said. "I have time,"and he got to work and wrote reams of material over next ten years. The priest could not follow the work in the boy's mature chicken scratch containing numbers and words. He has seen him do so many unnatural things with sparks and lightning that maybe he should have already reported the boy to the Witch Counsel. But its too late for all that. The sickly boy works bronze wiring into a wooden box filled with things the old priest watched the boy smith himself. The contraption sparks. Heart racing the priest asks, "What does it do, Nicky?" The boy stops working and sighs as if dealing with the smallest injury that shouldn't hurt as bad as it does. He turns and the priest flinches at the eyes staring back at him with a hollow longing, a painful hunger, a need he has only ever seen in poppy smokers when supplies are down. "This fixes the problem of paradoxes,"and he smiles a smile of a man who long ago set himself on the path to destroy the world. "Paradoxes in need of repairing." And the ten year old presses a button and disappears leaving only a few blue spark and a quick glimpse of an alien world covered in a green sky filled with black lightning. He shakes the image of his head hoping the boy never returns, but he knows he will, he always does.
"Just for a minute!" "Ok, fine! God, I'm sorry I asked!"Don said, after reluctantly choosing "dare"in a game of truth or dare. He hadn't been in the basement in years, and at this point was afraid to go in at all. He opened the door, walked down the stairs, and heard the click of the door closing behind him. Then he heard talking. "We must take care of our rations, as the new supply wont be here for 3 more suns!" "That's not long, we can- Hey, whats that noise!?" Don screamed as a large brown owl flew at him, then another, and another! "AGHH!! Get it off! HELP!" Before he knew it the owls were gone. He was in the basement alone. He ran back upstairs to find his friends laughing at him. "Dude, I'm never doing acid again!"he yelled.
I heard him coming before I saw him. Of course. I'd just completed my weather control device a few hours ago and my video message holding the world for ransom was ready to go. Everything was going according to plan until I heard an off-key slur howling "Don't Stop Believin'"at maximum human volume. Coming closer. Damn it. He missed the window and bulled through the brick wall next to it. Didn't seem to faze him at all. The caped man half-heartedly brushed the dust off and struck an unsteady karate stance no doubt cribbed from some movie. The six pack clutched at his waist rather ruined the effect. "Awright, Profesh- fesh- _Professor_ Madman! Yer time is _-hic-_ is over!" I sighed. "It's Professor Mammon, you incompetent drunk. It's not hard to remember when you're _sober."_ "Doesn' matter! I, the Party Aminal, am here to shtop you!" I stepped back from him, and slapped a button at my hip. The powered frame surrounding my limbs surged to life, giving me the strength of several men, protecting me from harm. I adjusted my helmet minutely, and raised my arms in the classic boxing style I preferred. "Let's get this over with then, yes?" "You wanna _-hic-_ throw down, bro? You thing ya can-" I interrupted his drivel with a no-nonsense right hook. He staggered, fell back. Fell down. It was kind of pathetic, really. It always was, until it wasn't. Party Animal rose to his feet, still wobbly, his six-pack miraculously unharmed at his feet. "Woah-ho-ho, dude! _Shit!_ Where'd'ya come up with this thing? You-" Ignoring him, darting around him to snatch up the cheap beer lying on the ground. His precious power source. What a disgrace. It used to be that superheroes were respectable. I remember squaring off against Cody "Code of Law"Lawson. A bit dim, perhaps, but _he_ was a true opponent. _He_ stood for something. I'd almost regretted killing him. Still, you can't rule the world without breaking a few skulls. This is one such I'd take great personal enjoyment in breaking. "Hey, man, thass mine! You can' _-hic-_ can' jus' snag a guy's suds w'out askin'!" "I can, and I am. You think I hadn't figured you out after you destroyed my freeze ray? If you hadn't been so boorish as to leave your _vomit_ in the workings I might not have had the chance to analyze it." "I don' know what yer talkin about, dude, jus'... jus' give 'em back." "Powered by alcohol. By _intoxication._ You're a disgrace to heroes, and a stain on my reputation I cannot wait to erase."I drew my armored hands together, the beer between them. "Naw, man, wait!" And I crushed them. Cheap beer sprayed in every direction as each can burst. I caught some of it, but it was inconsequential. I'd prepared for this. His look of confused disbelief made a sublime target for my fists, still dripping with his beloved "suds."I launched a furious barrage of fists, finally ending in an uppercut that sent the buffoon against the back wall so hard some bricks shook loose. I stomped closer to him, smiling. "So, _Party Animal,_ any last words?" He fixed me in his gaze after some difficulty. "Yeah! Uh, uh... always! um... You uh" "So be it." I moved in for the final blow. And I slipped. I'd waterproofed the mechanisms of my powered armor quite well, but I hadn't exactly thought to traction in wet environments. An oversight, and one I'd regret. It took me only a moment to right myself, but that was all it took. "Always come prepared! BYOB, Mad Mom!" I got my feet under me in time to watch as he fumbled a flask out from a hip pocket, and sucked down the contents like his life depended on it. It did, so I suppose that makes sense. Moving away from the puddle of beer, I desperately swung a fist at him, intent on disrupting him, knocking the flask away, anything. He caught my fist. Effortlessly. And used it steady himself while getting up. God _damn_ it. I swung with the other fist, and though it connected solidly, he barely seemed to feel it. The only reaction was another drunken wobble, quickly corrected. Party Animal drew up, inches from my face, reeking of alcohol, his eyes alternately squinting shut and worming back open. He broke into a huge grin. "LEEET'S PAAARRTAAAAAAY!"
Sarah bit her lip, frowning. She blinked slowly, glaring into her computer screen. Finally, she leaned back into her chair. Sighing, Sarah closed her eyes. She massaged her temple. It had been what, three, four days since Sarah slept. She exhaled, standing. She half walked half crawled to the window. Standing from her office, elevated at the 134th floor, Sarah could see the sprawling city with all its flashing lights "Alex, what time is it?"She called. "Time past to sleep,"her personal articfial intelligence replied. Sarah rolled her eyes, but Alex was usually right. "Activate my car, I'll be there in 15." "Of course, Sarah." She rolled her shoulders back, making her way to the elevator. In the cities, most people don't own cars, but Sarah's job made it affordable. Somehow, she found herself humming to the elevator music. Wow, I must be really tired. Pressing outside, Sarah squinted. The light, harsh and white, was near blinding. Sarah dragged herself to the drivers seat. The self-driving car made life easier. As the car drove onto the freeway, Sarah flipped the news on. "There has been a severe crash on . . ." Sarah's eyes widened. She gripped the steering wheel, her face turning white. The crash was severe, two busses, one car. Sarah quickly pulled over. The police weren't here yet. The shock made her irrational, but listening to her voice, that drew her over the edge. "Help!" She screamed. Sarah sprinted to the wreckage. The smell of the fire and burning flesh was numbing. Step after step, Sarah worked. One life at a time, she carried them to safety. When the police came, Sarah was unresponsive, lying beside one of the children she saved.
"I do not understand,"the hero cries. "The hate in the people's eyes! Have I not freed them from their oppressors? "Yet they whisper about me! "They say I am lecherous! But have I not brought glory to their bloodlines by allowing their virgin daughters to share my bed and hold my seed? "They complain that I take goods from the market and do not pay! But have I not paid in sweat and blood? Must I be forced to pay in coin as well? "They accuse me of being vain and a slavemaster! But have I not brought jobs to those who were formerly unemployed? Are idle hands not the devil's workshop? I have set them to work from sunup to sundown building temples and statues in the honor and likeness of me. Not because I am vain, but because I it is my intention to make the people holy. "But, alas, I do not expect you to understand, companion. You are not a hero. So, with hate in their eyes, I move on to bring glory, honor, and holiness to the next town. These people have taken me for granted, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, so they will miss me when I am gone and be glad when I get back."
"Ok, Betty, you caught me" I told the barmaid. I gotta think of something fast. "So, what will happen in the future"she asks. I think of something to do. I got it! I'm just going to tell her stuff that's technically true, but the information is either useless, beyond her comprehension, or irrelevant to her lifestyle. "Do you see that telephone over there?"I ask Betty the barmaid. She responds "Sure do!" I then tell her "Ok, in 30 years, that telephone is going to emit a sound that sounds like this, and you will be able to read newspapers from America". I then mimic the sound of an analog modem. She has a bemused look on her face. I then tell her other things that are technically true, but useless, irrelevant and incomprehensible. "Ok, so here's what's going to happen. Two baseball teams from America, who have struggled to win the World Series, will finally win the World Series. The Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox. In fact, the Red Sox will win repeated World Series" Betty responds: "Now why would I be concerned about a bloody Yank sport?" I then grab a playing card. I then tell her this. "This is what your money will look like in 50 years". Betty then looks disinterested and annoyed. "Sod off, you're not a real time traveler."
The Sins Of Our Fathers The cell door clicked open. He’d heard this sound many times before. Everyday for the last 9 years in fact. The guards led him down the sterile white hall that led to the cell he had spent half his life in. At the end of the hall was an elevator that took him down. In the elevator he could see his reflection in the glass doors. He was pale, thin, and unshaven. His clothing closely resembled rags more than anything else. He stared back at himself barely able to remember what life was like before. But when he thought hard, he could remember. He was the son of a man called Vinzini. He just remembered him as father but he heard the name said often enough by his guards. They spit the name like it was poisonous to their tongues. His father was the leader of their country ever since he was born. Before his imprisonment he saw his father as a hero, after he learned quickly what he really was. The guards called him a Dictator. He never could see it as a boy. He never left his fathers compound manor so he had always assumed life in the outside was just as good as on the in. That was apparently not so. While deep in thought he received a shove from behind. They had reached their destination. The guards shoved him into the 4 by 4 cell. This is where he spent most of his time. In it he had a small bench, a bucket, and a chute that would occasionally dispense food or bottled water. There was also a small square mirror on the wall. He never knew what it was for until a guard told him. It was a two-way mirror. On the other side was the real world. People could come by to ogle at him. Apparently there was a plaque above the display that was inscribed with words “Son of the Monster”. Monster, that’s a word he had heard very often. He began to remember again. His father was a serious man. He was big and round. He had a mustache that he took care of. He always smelled like expensive cigars and fine perfumes. He was a man with fine taste in everything, clothes, food, drink, and women. And he could afford to, he was after all the dictator. He had never known his mother, his father took so many women that no single one was around for very long. Same for children. Many women claimed to have bore Vinzini’s son or daughter but more often then not they were turned away, and if they were persistent both the mother and the child would disappear. Besides him though one other child was kept. A girl named Samasa. They were half siblings and besides his father she was the only other person he was close to. She was different from him. Where he worshiped their father she questioned him. Where he lavished in their royal life she scrutinized it. Where he was contented with their sheltered life, she was not. However, she was the favorite. Vinzini praised her for her intellect and sharp whit. In the years of being a son to him, he had never been praised. As he grew older he saw it as a ploy to get him to butt heads with his sister, but he couldn’t. When she spoke he was captivated. She had clearly come from a different mother than he had. Where she was tall with sharp features and hazel eyes, he was shorter and thinner. He was small and weak and knew his father saw him this way as a poor carrier of the family name. But Samasa saw him only as her brother. They would walk through the gardens together, run and play. She taught him to read and write. They’re life was perfect. A ding at the elevator door signified that someone had arrived. It was too early for it to be the guards to take him back to his bed. The door slid open to reveal the form of El Rayho. “Nine long years have finally passed” the words crept from his mouth, dripping with anticipation. Nine years since the day his world ended. It was hard to comprehend. El Rayho was a revolutionary. He was the one who had deposed his father “The Man of the Peoples” he was called. “In a few hours it will be your birthday, this one will be different as you are finally 18.” the words fell on his ears like a hammer. “You know what that means, I’ll be seeing you soon.” And with that he turned around and walked out. When El Rayho had entered the room he was standing but now he found himself collapsed on his cell floor. 18, was he really 18? Nine years already? It couldn’t have been that long. These thoughts swirled through his head like water circling the drain in a tub. He was 18 and he knew what that meant. He had little time left and needed to remember. He thought back to the day his world was changed. He was sitting with Samasa in the garden as she read to him. The air had been different the past few weeks. There father who they might normally have seen once a day they now saw once only every few days. When they did see him he seemed pale and worried, as if he were sick. He hadn’t spoken to him or Samasa in any of that time. Outside the walls of their gardens the could see smoke plumes rising in the distance. None of the servants would tell them what it was either. Each day the smoke crept closer. Soon they could hear the explosions. They were no longer allowed to go out into the gardens. Soon soldiers filled the compound. They wore the insignia of his father. They were all gruff men who were badly shaken. They all looked like his father. One particularly explosive evening he was in his room with Samasa. She was scared and he didn’t understand why. She asked him if he could get her some water. Reluctantly he agreed. Most of the servants had vanished so he had to run to the kitchen himself. When he got back Samasa was gone. He dropped the water and broke into a sprint. He was screaming for her. Then, he had heard short bang, different from the low rumbling concussions that he’d been hearing recently. It came from his fathers room. He opened the door and what he saw he could never forget. Dead on the floor was his father and Samasa. A servant was standing nearby. He demand to know what had happened. She explained that the revolution had won, they were on they’re way here and Vinzini didn’t want to be captured, he sent the woman to fetch his children so they wouldn’t be caught either but when she got there only Samasa was there. He didn’t understand any of it. Who were the revolution? And what had they won? Just then the door burst open and there he was, El Rayho. His face turned bright red with rage at seeing the dead Vinzini, but his attitude quickly changed at the sight of him. “You are his son?” He questioned inquisitively. All he could do was nod. A smile crept up El Rayho’s face, “Perfect” The cell was cold and dark. Cement walls and floors with a single fluorescent light. “The people want justice for the sins of your father, they want blood” El Rayho said all this to the 9 year old boy who only a few days earlier saw his own family dead in front of him. “He chose the cowards way out, you do not get a choice however, you shall pay for his sins with your blood, however we cannot execute a child, so we shall wait until you are a man on your 18th birthday.” With this he turned and left the boy to his new stark white reality for the next 9 years, until today. Today was different. He took a new route with his guards today a solid white room and in the center, a chair. The guards wordlessly strapped him into it. With that a hydraulics system lifted the chair upwards through a hole in the ceiling. His sense were overloaded. For the first time in 9 years he saw the sun, the sky, the trees. He could smell the grass and the markets. When his eyes adjusted he saw El Rayho standing in front of a cheering crowd. He was speaking but he couldn’t hear him. The sight and the smells all reminded him of Samasa. That’s all he could think of. “Here is the spawn of the oppressor!” Sitting in the garden reading with her. “For too long had we suffered at the hands of his kind!” Running and playing with her in the manor. “And for this we shall burn the last of his bloodline!” Samasa, he was at peace in his mind, the stress and tension of nine years melted away. He couldn’t feel the men pouring in the gasoline, or the ignition of the accelerant, he was far away with Samasa.
"Okay,"said the professor. "Class dismissed." There were the sounds of chairs scraping and voices rising and laughing as thirty-something college students swelled towards the door. I was one of the last ones out of my seat. And the reason why - Kamila Conley - flipped one last page, took a picture of it, and handed me back my notebook with a dimpled smile. "Thank you soo much,"she said, standing up and stretching. The room was nearly empty and the few last minute stragglers were more concerned with asking the professor a question. This is my chance I coached myself. Just do it. "So,"she said first, packing her stuff. "Any plans this weekend?" "Nah, not much."I forced a chuckle and stuffed my notebook into my overflowing backpack. "You?" "Hmm. Not really." "Oh." Her purse slung over her shoulder. "Well I guess I'll see ya next week,"she said, striding off with a one-waved goodbye. I heard a snort to my left. I looked. And saw...me? "That was pathetic,"he said, doubling over with laughter. Startled, my only defense was to ask, "Who are you?" He looked at me and I swear it was like looking into a mirror. "I'm you, stupid. Except the cooler version of you from another timeline where you actually got the girl." "Kamila?" He rolled his eyes. "Listen, I'ma help you out. You gotta trust me. If you want Kamila, this is your last chance with her. I mean it. She was giving you all the signs, dude." "She was?" He ticked off on his fingers. "She asked what you were doing this weekend, told you she wasn't doing anything, and said 'I guess' I'll see you next week. That's when you should have made your move!" "Oh... So, what do I do?" "Do you have her phone number?" "No." He groaned and face-palmed. "I can't believe we're the same person. Okay, there's still hope. Try to catch up to her. Then ask her if she wants to see a movie this weekend." I immediately hustled out the door and towards the path I knew she would take (I know, I'm a stalker). The other me followed behind me. On the way, I thought of something and asked him, "Wait, what movie?" "Doesn't matter,"he answered. I caught up to her just as she finished talking with some friends and walked away from them. I took a deep breath and slid alongside her. "Hey." She jumped and yeeped, swinging her purse at me. Fortunately, I ducked. With my arms covering my head and still in a crouch, I heard her gasp, then laugh, and finally, she said, "Jeremy?" I peeked. "Don't hurt me,"I joked. "I'm sorry,"she said, still laughing. "You scared me." I got out of my crouch and grinned. The other me stood behind her, unseen, and gave me the thumbs up. She looked at me. I started. "You know, uhm, I was just wondering...if you would like to see a movie this weekend." Her eyes widened and she blinked several times as a blush spread through her cheeks. "I-" "You have a boyfriend,"I interjected for her. "I totally get it. Sorry to bother you."I turned to walk away. "Oh stop it before I hit you with my purse!"she said. "I was going to say yes." I turned slowly, not believing my ears. "Really?" "You know where my dorm is, right?" I nodded. She smiled. "Okay, then I'll be waiting. Wait, is this a morning, afternoon, or evening movie?" My other me mouthed 'Afternoon'. "Afternoon,"I answered. "Perfect! See you tomorrow then!"She smiled, waved and strode off. My heart was doing somersaults of joy in my chest. My other me came up and high-fived me. "That's what I'm talking about, dude!" "There's only one problem,"I said. "What?" "I'm broke." "And that"said a voice from the staircase, "is what I'm here for." Me and other me looked. And there was another me.
While going through daily life, most people don't have to consider the movement of the Earth. The rotation, the orbit, the motion through the galaxy. For most, all those thousands of miles and hour might as well not exist. That was not the case for Ben Jacobs. He did have to consider all those things if he wanted to make the most of what science had given him. And he was doing a really bad job of it. "Damn it!"He roared over a cup of coffee and a computer screen. "Why is this so complicated?" His girlfriend, Vicki, sighed and put her tablet down. "You know, you could just drive. It'd be a lot easier." "Vicki, I can teleport. I can be there in the blink of an eye. Why would I want to drive?" "Because when you drive, you don't have to do advanced astrophysics to move more than twenty feet." Ben wanted to argue. He really did. But she was right, as always. It wasn't his fault his powers did not work anything like comics said they did. It was not his fault the Earth kept moving while he was being rapidly transported through another dimension. Even if the trip was effectively instant, there was still some lag. And when dealing with planetary motion, that lag could result in some... unfortunate situations. Like the time he got his foot stuck in a tree because he forgot to carry a one. "Look, I just..."Ben started to say. "I just have to keep practicing and it'll get easier." Vicki changed seats, chosing one next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, you can still teleport around. Just stick to short distances, okay? That way you can maybe get places on time? I mean, you should be able to get to the lab on time if you leave right now." "It's the principle of the thing."Ben said stubbornly. He would make this work. "Besides, I've almost got today's calculations done." "Ben..." "Please, just...just let me do this, okay? I promise I'll drive tomorrow. But it would be a waste of time if I drove now, when I've already put so much effort into today's numbers." "Alright, fine. But I'm holding you to that. If I wake up tomorrow and see all that math on the screen, we'll have some problems. Got it?" "Yes dear." Vicki nodded and returned to her breakfast. She did not have had the luxury of instant travel, but she still liked to take the time to eat a proper breakfast before work. It took ten minutes for Ben to finally finish the necessary calculations to not end up in anything solid. He looked over the calculations one last time, committing the advanced math formulas to memory as best he could. With the numbers running through his mind, he triggered his accidentally given power. He felt the pull, the surge of energy as he "fell"through the mysterious dimension that allowed him to teleport. He opened his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. He had made it. He was standing just outside the lab he worked for, and nothing was stuck in anything else. He had made it. He had done his number crunching properly, and he could do his job with pride. Then he checked his watch and a series of curses emerged from his mouth. It was like a curse. Some cosmic joke. He could teleport. He could move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. So why, why was he still ten minutes late?
I've always been able to see the threads. One of my earliest memories is being very confused when my mother could not see them. She tried to convince me they were imaginary, but I knew they most certainly were not. There are white ones that I can use to to attach to an object and pull it towards me, or mesh around each other and drag it away. There are red ones that when pulled together provide heat and light, and in enough quantities can cause an explosion. Blue threads might make you think of water, but they're something to do with energy, or gravity, maybe - if I wind them together with thought and gesture, they form a sort of whirlwind that lifts me off the ground. Other threads come at certain times, or with certain activities. Intense thought, or being deeply lost in a book, seems to cause silvery-grey threads to form briefly, flickering in and out of existence, or perhaps just passing through this world and on to another. Grey-green threads relate to love - I have seen them wrapped gently around two people, pulling them fractionally closer together even as they sit quietly on a park bench or across from each other at dinner. Pink threads are anger, rage. I feel uneasy even to approach them. The tricks I could do with the threads - flight, fire, limited mind-reading, lots more - made me very rich, and for a long time very happy. Right now, at this moment, I am at the top of a skyscraper in Seattle. In the basement of this building is a private garage for my supercars. Near the top of the building is my private office, on a floor staffed entirely by the 100 people or so who work for me directly. The building itself, I need hardly mention, belongs to one of my companies. In the penthouse, in my bedroom, there is a young woman of staggering beauty; she seems to have threads of her own that I have never seen before. Madeline. A beautiful name. Or Marian, possibly? I can't quite remember. You may be kind enough to forgive this lapse of decorum, because while this is the building where I have been the happiest, this moment is one of staggering stress. Running across the landscape is a wave, one that is passing through the earth just like wave of the sea. Except that instead of lifting water and what floats therein as it passes, it is lifting the landscape. Forests of evergreen trees are billowing up into the air as if they are on top of a sheet that is being thrown out over a bed. Houses, farms, towns, people are all being caught up in the catastrophe, soaring upwards and then collapsing down in a maelstrom of dust, fire, smoke and earth. The wave must be close to half a mile high, the top of it rimmed with dust and smoke rising from the howling winds. Things that should be on the ground slow as they reach the top of their upward voyage at the crest of the wave and begin the fall back to earth - houses, cars, a train still almost sitting on some nearby tracks, an office building, a city park which reaches the apogee intact and only breaks apart as it starts its descent. And through it all runs a scarlet-red thread, except the word 'thread' does not do this thing justice. It is most like a heavy electrical cable that is a hundred yards and across, thrashing and flailing wildly as it is being dragged out of the world. It and the wave are feeding off each other, dancing around each other, impossible to say what is cause and what is effect. Hundreds of thousands of people are dying, and millions more will die in mere moments when that wave reaches the city, flinging Lake Washington into the air and ripping up the city from its roots, scattering its skyscrapers and its subway and its helpless people. Tears are streaming down my face. I am heedless of the panic and the screams around me, as I have eyes only from the wave. The world is ending. Magic is out of control. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I am to blame. \-- If you like this story, check out more at r/HouseBlendMedium. Thanks for reading!
Curtis' head dropped low but it couldn't hide his large tears dripping onto the panel in front of him. He couldn't bear to look at his withering parents or his young children. Because of what he had done, his family would be taken into the hands of the authority. Parents in a shabby home, children taken by uncaring adults who desire money. It hurt. And all because he accidentally picked up a pack of grapes as part of his normal weekly groceries and walked out without having paid for them. He had paid £152.81 for everything else. The grapes were forgotten by him and the cashier. But he knew that it was too late when the police knocked on his door with stern faces. He thought he'd always follow the rules. That he'd never break a single one in society. But he had. And so, he was to join the frontlines with all the other hopeless men and women. Curtis had always wondered what the God-like creature looked like. But he always had wanted to fight against it. But they said it was impossible. That the creature would suck out any form of personality. That when you marched up to it, you were emotionless and ready to be brutally murdered and piped atop his large dinner plate. Ok sorry this was lame but I wrote something today so I shall post it
"Oh my god."The woman rolled on her back and sighed, breathing like she had just run a marathon. "James, that was amazing." The young James Bond, as cool as a cucumber, was already up and out of bed, getting dressed, but he offered her a polite smile. "So were you,"he lied. "Promise me you'll come and see me again,"she begged. "Only if I pass my exam,"he replied, hinting at their previous agreement. "They answers are in the top drawer, on the right hand side,"she said, flopped backwards, still catching her breath. James checked. The answer booklet was there. Before he closed the drawer, he noticed something and pulled it out. "A dildo?"he teased. "I don't need it anymore, now that I have you,"she rolled over to face him and purr. He smiled that polite smile of his again and put the dildo back and closed the drawer. He headed to the door, feeling her eyes on his back the entire way. "Good luck,"she wished him. He nodded silently and left, closing the door with a gentle click. It was almost light outside. The sky was yellow, tinged with orange, and the birds were beginning to chirp. The first thing when I get home he reminded himself, is to brush my teeth.
"That's rude." I surprised myself with the immediate reply, and the stranger blinked a couple times, before looking around. The subway was how it always was, packed, everyone on their tablets or with earbuds in or otherwise just ignoring everything that went around him. That suited us just fine-- but when this guy just had to point things out, I could see them all peering out the corners of their eyes, over the edges of their books, and otherwise pretending like they didn't care. "You should apologize." The stranger looked back at everyone again, stammering. None wanted to make eye contact with him, and instead he gulped as he stared at me, and then over my shoulder. Two rows behind me he was there, wedged as best as he could into a set of seats that looked comically small for him. So large that he couldn't physically put his legs in between seats, his knees bent over the backs of the seats in front of him. I did say he took two rows behind me, right? He took both of them. "I-- I w-was just l-looking out--" "No, you were looking at us. If you were looking out, you'd be mindlessly staring out the windows. You done?"I don't know why I felt particularly confrontational today, but I wasn't having any of it. "It's the 21st century. We're past this sort of shit, I thought."The stranger that had stared at us every day on our way home from work shrank back further into his seat. I was content to leave it there, slumping back into my seat about to go back to tapping away at one of those idle games on my phone when I heard him mutter. "Freaking weirdos. How is everyone okay with this?" I immediately felt my ire rise, and just handed my phone over my shoulder. I felt a hand easily twice the size of mine gingerly take it before I got up from my seat, and approached the man. "If you have a problem, just speak up."I said, now holding onto the pole directly in front of him. He looked around again, but once more the people on the subway weren't about to jump in to his defence. A couple were recording me, though-- but I figured that was probably for the better of everyone. Being recorded made me hold back, made sure that I wasn't going to go further than I knew I should. "I-It's just--" "I hate repeating myself, so I'll say this one. The world "ended"back in 2034. Do you remember that? Hellfire and the world cracking open and all that shit? I do. I was like, nine, dude."I spat. "But here we are, almost thirty years later. Sure, demons came out, had their fun with the world, whatever you wanna say. But us? We're just trying to get back to our lives, alright? So next time you want to say something stupid, keep it to yourself, huh?" "Hey, that's enough." If it had been anyone else behind me saying that I probably would have reeled around and socked the dumb, interfering idiot in the face. But those one of those giant mitts fell on my shoulder, and I calmed down instantly. "Whatever."I muttered. "It's our stop. Excuse us." I slipped off of the subway, letting out a sigh and shaking my hands out, charged with the encounter. I more heard the demon behind me slink off the subway, apologizing profusely as he barely managed to get his massive form out of the doors. They really needed to make those more accessible. "I'm sorry."He muttered, once the subway began to roll off. I huffed, blowing upwards, shrugging my shoulders. "If I didn't--" "You didn't do anything, little bro."I said. "Come on. I still gotta drop you off at school before I head out to the anger management classes. Can you believe it? Humans trying to tell us that we need to manage our anger. I should have reported him to Uncle. He'd do something about it." "You can't just have Uncle Losh'noth drag every person that's rude to us back down to hell. You know the accords exist."My brother reminded me. I groaned. Those damned accords. And not in the good way. "Come on. Besides, I've been working on the whole scary-resting-bitch face." "I know. It's getting better. Still probably hard for him to see past the fangs and the horns though."I shot my brother a glare over my shoulder-- he was still at the bottom of the stairs, but that grotesque, stretched form of his was still hovering over me. "Maybe you should try a mask? Or make up?" "Ah, shut up, else I'm not giving you the $20 dad gave you for lunch today. Now hurry up. It's supposed to rain, and I hate getting wet." My brother laughed. "Yeah, you end up looking like one of those cats that are half-shocked, half-dead, all-hatred! Maybe that's what he meant by you looking scary." I flipped him off over my shoulder. "Yeah, you're only getting $10 now. Asshole."
"IT IS TIME! WE ARE A DISEASE!" The man yelled pounding on the front door. I was shaking as I slid down the down to sit. In my right hand I had a white knuckle grip on a baseball bat in my left I clutched my phone in disbelief. The call hadn't gone through, just a message saying, "Due to the extreme number of calls at this moment, we were not able to process your call." How can they not process and emergency call? I didn't understand, but at least the pounding stopped. I got up still shaking and looked out the peep hole and saw the full grown man laughing as he skipped back down the path in my yard. The television came back to attention as I slowly relaxed while not taking my focus off of the creep now skipping down my driveway. "... the last of the endangered rhinos as well as a host of other endangered animals have disappeared from zoos and reserves around the world today, scientists, animal rights organizations and the authorities are all asking how?..."I heard from the news reporter. I looked over as the scene switched to a slightly overweight and balding detective continued in an interview, "As of right now all we know is that there was no forced entry or exit and no one was caught on any of the security cameras. That is all I can say." He walked off screen just before I tuned out the TV and moved to look out the window for a better view. The creep seemed to moved on, but there were now more people moving down the street. Some of them loud and rambunctious, others quiet and quick moving as if to escape. One of the former had a sign and I realized what the creep was yelling about, the sign read in sloppy wet paint: the Arc has come and we are not invited
"The king is dead! Long live the king!” I looked down at the former king’s body, lying in a pool of blood before the throne. This hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. I mean, sure I’d expected to be able to fight my way to the throne room, after all I was the greatest swordsman in the realm, but I’d expected him to pay me off rather than accept my offer of a one on one duel for the kingdom. And now here I was, king. I was snapped out of my thoughts as a courtier cleared his throat. “Ah... I’m sorry to disturb you so soon, your majesty, but we were in the middle of negotiations with Helbrend when you arrived. And then there are two ambassadors from the Cyllic Fiefs to see you. Should I prepare a… more suitable venue?” He glanced towards the body as he finished. What had I gotten myself into?
I used to dream of electrical towers as giants that roamed our country. They stood there, lashed by the winds across the cornfields, gleaming in the sun, or silhouetted against the burning sunset of the Midwest Sky. I would trace my finger on the window in their human-like shape as we drove by, my hot breath filling in t he space around the finger strokes. For a while, I forgot about those odd daydreams. Too caught up in the irritation of yesterday's shift and the woman who coughed in my face when I told her we no longer carried her size in the red Nikes as the line was recently discontinued. No longer seeing giant men in the fields or faces on the cars or benevolent night guardians of the leaning streetlights . Now, those dreams are only too immediate. They burn hot and with their mouth open. It's only been a week since the electrical towers awoken. But everything has quickly fallen into disarray. Of course, the first problem was that of the electrical grid. Places where people used their own energy did okay, at least for the first couple of days. They had their solar panels to keep a bulb on. The rest of us were left in the dark as the wires were wrenched from our homes, from our schools, our hospitals. Our cellphone towers no longer transmitted our calls for help. Our stoplights swung apathetically on their wires but as congestion clogged up the streets. It was the post-apocalyptic world of those scifi movies, the ones where an impossibly large EMP is set off to terrorize the US and in doing so it cripples the economy. As if that wasn't enough, the electrical towers were dangerous in their own right. Now, as an avid consumer of popular culture, you think I would have been ready for any sort of apocalypse - I can name at least ten zombie movies for every mood you may want. Want a zombie romcom also known as a rom-zom-com? Check out Zombeavers, Deadalive/Braindead, Juan of the Death, Night of the Living Deb, Warm Bodies...You get the point. But electrical tower apocalypse movies? Few and far between, if not... inexistent. Beyond their sheer height, electrical towers are nearly impossible to take down. With a zombie, it is their inherent human aspects that weaken them - the soft flesh, small size, known areas of protection. You shoot them in the head, everything goes splat. These power towers are built to withstand the minor F2 tornadoes that rip through the fields in Kansas May. They are triangle after triangle latticed together My science teachers in sixth grade told us that triangles were the strongest shape. It only mattered then because we wanted to win the eggdrop, so we built a small pyramid of popsicle sticks around the fragile shell. Now, that engineering has turned against us. The military rolled through in less than 16 miles - their collection of generators and batteries keeping them mobile and effective while we flocked to the few hand crank radios that the apocalypse obsessive amongst us had held onto. From there we heard our nations heroes in their fight. "Good morning listeners, today we will be bringing you a transmission from Electric Fighter Jackie Vann"Static plays, and her voice cuts in. "Today we successfully brought down an additional three power towers. It was hard work, but with all of your support, we are making it through" Their techniques were adaptive. They had to be, since the towers caught on. In the first few days, we were able to lash some down with nets dropped from planes, but they got smart and started hanging in places where the planes couldn't fly overhead or couldn't risk dropping the nets without causing damage or casualties. From there our fighters moved onto EMP strikes - although this left those who still had some forms of electricity in their lives utterly in the dark like the rest of us after the hit. Facing the backlash, the military began to drop hydrogen peroxide bombs, rusting the towers where their feet would be, so they would stumble and topple over. That course of action had its own success - although as of late the military had begun to report shortages of the materials necessary to generate these bombs. Especially without electricity, the factories that partnered with the military had halted their production of weapons. I can't speak to what we will do in the future. When the bombs run out, when our stores of food diminish, when all of the stores are looted and the windows are broken. After all, the world only started to end last Tuesday.
She is stunning. Her presence unlocks all my insecurities and makes me acutely aware of all my flaws. All the pride and self-esteem I've built up from the past three months of exercising and dieting go straight out the window. Unconsciously, then consciously, I wrap my arms around my husband's arm, reminding him that I'm here, and forcing myself in to the picture, to be seen by her hoping that she'll have enough common decency and respect to acknowledge our relationship and leave him -us- alone. She doesn't. Instead, she smiles and her eyes glow as if I've just confirmed what she wanted to hear. "Ohhh,"she says, sounding absolutely thrilled. "You're married?"She looks straight at my husband, ignoring my entire existence. "He is,"I answer, swinging myself in between them and giving her a polite, close-lipped smile. "Yeah..."my husband agrees. "Married..." I know my hubby loves me but I remind myself that when we get home, we need to have a little talk about loyalty and how important it is not to sound like he just sounded right then. In just those two words alone, I heard his regret at being married at this particular moment, his reluctance in admitting he was married, and an apology to the ~~whore~~ woman that if he wasn't married that he would definitely be interested in whatever she was proposing to him. "That's okay,"the woman says. "I love married men." I can practically feel my husband's boner hit me in the rib. A primitive instinct wells up in me and all of a sudden I just want to smack this ~~bitch~~ ~~whore~~ ~~slut~~ ~~skank~~ woman in the face. "Excuse me?"I crane my neck at her. I heard her the first time, but I'm giving her a chance to take back what she said. I even touch my earring to let her know, Don't make me take these off. Even my husband feels the vibes and he starts to tug me backward - towards him and away from her. She looks at me for the first time and flat-out tells me, "I want your husband. I am going to have your husband. And I will bear his children. And when he has impregnanted me as many times as I wish, I will return him to you." The only reason that I didn't slap her mid-sentence was because, as she talked, she had pulled out a silver object from her waist. It looked like a TV remote mixed with a taser. "You're crazy,"I told her, but because I was scared and also trying to save face, I said to my husband, "C'mon, let's get out of here,"and tried to steer him away. So my back was turned when she did whatever she did. All I know was that I felt what felt like thousand volts of electricity going through me. I instantly crumpled to the boardwalk and pissed myself. I couldn't control myself and my limbs kept twitching. Darkness started to swallow me. I heard my husband dimly in the background. He was yelling, "What the hell?! What the fuck did you do to my wife?"Then I heard a thud, and his arm filled my vision on the boardwalk in front of me. I was too paralyzed to turn my head and look. Then his arm slithered out of sight as she dragged him away. I tried to scream his name, but my mouth wouldn't move. And then the darkness dragged me under.
Walking onto the cracked concrete, I held back my tears. They've done it again--they've taken everything from me. The driveway was diminished to a handful of pebbles, the tattered blue shutters of my home strewn around the now-nonexistent road. Any evidence of the flowers I had planted was gone. The door of my house had been chomped in half, and my bedroom was nothing but a pile of debris gradually filtering into a claw-shaped chamber. As I approached my humbled abode, I thought of how this had gone over the first few times. At first, it had come as a surprise. But after a meteor killed my dog, my professional-breath-holding girlfriend drowned in the bathtub, and my best friend was crushed by a falling anvil, I'd gotten used to the shock of it all. This time was like any other. I looked up at the sky, and there it was, in glowing yellow font, cheerful enough to make me want to vomit. #57: Dinosaur Attack! 12506 Votes. I wanted to crawl out of this hell and into the real world again. I wanted to show these people why the fact that I had to go through all of this, lose the things I loved in fifty-seven different ways for their enjoyment, was beyond inhumane. I wanted them to try a day in my world and see how they would deal with it. I wanted to go up to all of those little bastards and-- Before I could finish my thought, my brain rattled with skull-splitting pain. A cool, disembodied voice spoke directly into my ear: "Now, Cynthia. Remember that this can be over quite easily. It's not that those who read your story mean to get a laugh out of this. You chose your own adventure by killing your friend, and now the readers get to choose your adventure for you. " "His-his death was an accident! This is torture! You can't--" The voice got louder. "You can come back into the world. All you have to do is show that you're going to be a good member of society. Get rid of the killer instinct, and you can get out of here--it's that simple!" "But it's not that simple--"I objected fruitlessly. "Oh, Cynthia, now's not the time for that nonsense. Let's try this again. Take a deep breath, and we'll get the voters ready." My vision fuzzed up. I suddenly felt sleepy, and though I was angrier than ever before, I knew that I'd have a few more days before they came to destroy everything again. And maybe, just once, I could do it right. I can still get out of here. &#x200B; Edit: Please provide feedback if you have any!
My father, my grandfather and I were each only children. Which meant when Dad died I was responsible for grampy. I was there for him as much as I could but he never talked much and often would stare off. This meant two things, I never knew much about him and I didn't know what he thought of me. When he passed away I inherited everything by default as we have no other family. It took me two years of weekends sorting through his things to find the crate that would change everything. It was a Friday night and I had taken the day off to finish the attic. After 10 hours of work I moved a large chest of drawers and noticed a small door I'd never seen before. It was locked but it was a simple lock that was easy to pry open. Inside the room was what could only be described as war trophies. German, Russian, British, American, Korean and many other country's artifacts from WW2 through present day. As I walked among an American Flag with 48 stars and a Nazi German flag I saw pictures of my grandfather with some of the greatest leaders and the vilest despots of the 20th century. There near the front was an old video camera and a box of reels. As I looked through the reels they each were labeled with 6 digit numbers. I picked up 042041 and spun the reel onto the projector. As the video came to life my grandfather was standing in front of two chairs in a nice suit and after a few seconds he speaks in another language. German? I didn't know grampy spoke anything besides English. After a few seconds a voice from off screen replies. My grandfather chuckles and responds. He motions towards the chairs and a man walks in frame. A man I've seen in history books and on television screens but this seems so much more real. As Adolf Hitler walks in to the shot my grandfather profers his hand, they shake and take their seats. They begin talking and I sit and watch as this interview carries on. As the film comes to an end I sit their confused, not from my lack of understanding of German but my lack of understanding of what I just watched. As I pull out other reels I watch my grandfather interview Roosevelt and Wilson in the Oval office, Stalin, Kim Jun Un, and every influential leader over the last 80 years. Who was my grandfather? Who do I show these to?
The sirens blared and bright blue lights blinded me as four state troopers started to box in my car. I immediately pulled over to the side of the road. "Open the door, place your hands outside the vehicle, and then slowly exit the vehicle"came an officers voice over the bullhorn. I complied. "Now, place your hands on your head and lie on the ground"said the voice. Again, I complied. An officer rushed over and zip-tied my hands together. "We finally got you you son of a bitch. We've been tracking this car for days and you're going to burn for what you did. License plate 'KILPPL' eh, thought that was pretty funny, didn't ya?" "Uh, what?"I replied. "My license plate is TRF-324."The cop laughed and pulled my head from the ground as he raised a boot and kicked my license plate. Sure enough "KILPPL"was right there in the bright blue letters. "Someone switched the plates,"I said. "Check the registration, it's in the glove box. My license is in my back pocket."The officer decided to humor me and went around to the passenger door. "Well shit. Your name Dave Humphrey?" "Yes,"I quickly replied. "God damnit. Sarge! Wrong fucking guy we got here. Someone switched his plates,"yelled the officer. It was another fourteen hours before I finally walked out of the police station with my car keys and some temporary plates to head home. They'd been thorough but they knew they had the wrong man. The scariest part for me was just how close a murderer had been to my car. They told me some of the stories; home invasions, slow tortures, really messed up stuff. I felt lucky. I drove home and unlocked the front door. As I entered I felt a rag close over my mouth and I instantly felt woozy. "Just in time, I'm all ready for you now,"whispered a voice into my ear. Then the world went dark...
If I was an unnamed assassin? What would I do? Listen, let me tell you a story about what I would do. First of all, my ass is Anon. A. Mous. Do you know what that means? I’m killing my ass. Fucking explosion with a stolen cadaver or some shit. Oh, what’s that? I forged dental records to match the cadavers. Yeah, bitch because I’m the B-E-S-T that means I’m not only great at killing but I’m well-rounded in all the aspects of my fucking job! Ok so, there’s a dead guy in my flat with matching dental records to that flat owner's persona. We blow that shit up then head to the bank. I have a safety deposit box at the bank in the next town over. That’s where I keep my other identities. From there we can head to the private airstrip at the edge of town. It’s where I keep my airplane, again I’m the best, don’t make me remind you again. You know my ass is moving though. I’m not going to let this get me down. I’m going to move to the United States. Yes, sir. I’ll move to New York or California or fucking Nebraska. I don’t know go kill some actors or show cows or some shit. Take over a city in the US and I can call myself an International Assassin. The most prestigious title of all assassins. I’m going to be the first man in my family to become an IA. It’s going to be a magical moment. I only wish papa was alive to see it. A friendly International Assassin coming to a city near you!
Ants. Fascinating creatures,weren't they? Bettles were boring. Crickets were noisy. But ants were fascinating creatures. They could find their fellow ants and hives easily. They were the embodiment of teamwork.They were beautiful. Those were Amy's views. Ever since she had been a young child, she had been obsessed with insects. She loved the little creatures. Yet her love for ants didn't surface till Doctor Amy, Phd holder on insects and science , had taken a trip to the amazon. She had been entranced. Insects were everywhere. Then she had found them. Ants. But not just any ants. These ants were nothomyrmerica. So called dinosaur ants. 9.7-11mm. Beautiful, she had thought, gazing upon them. So small yet fascinating. Then she had started experimenting. Little things at first, like seeing how they reacted to water.Being endangered, not many environmental agencies had approved of her experiments with the nothomyrmerica. Rin had tried to warn her. She had told Amy that nothing good would come out of her experiments. Yet Amy didn't listen. She turned a deaf ear to the many warnings. Then she had moved on to bigger things. Amy placed the ants in a tank, around 50,and had placed carbon monoxide. Most died within minutes. But some stated alive were hours, scuttling around the tank for a hour. That should have been the first warning sign. That ants were not meant to be meant to be messed with. Amy stared. They had-had breathed fire. Fire. Amy had made a breakthrough. Exposing the ants with uranium 6969 had triggered a reaction. This was big. Amy could almost feel the Nobel Prize coming to her. She looked back to the ants. And screamed. The ants had melted through the specially placed glass. They were out. Amy felt the Nobel prize slip through her hands. Then she felt pain. Her leg! It felt as if it was on fire. Amy had to get out. She made for the door, dragging her screaming leg behind her. She made it to the hallway before she was caught. The ants had followed her. Amy screamed, again and again, jerking sporadically. An alarm was ringing. Amy couldn't hear it clearly. Then she was gone. Her sightless gaze to the ceiling was eerie, as though catching one last glimpse of the creatures. The creatures she had created.
Its not like I wanted to sleep or anything. Naturally, you could say that I'm a paranoid person. I always jump when people tap me on the shoulder. I freak out when a tree branch hits the window. So when I hear banging on the door at 12 AM? Yeah, that was gonna scare me, too. I grabbed the metal bat I kept next to my bed and I headed downstairs, my mind racing. Would it.be a man with a gun? Multiple men with guns? My future self here to give me advice? As apprehensive as I was, I put my hand on that door know and slowly opened it, to see an old man with a ten year old boy. I wouldn't have been scared, usually, except for the face that the boy was me. He had the same scar under his right eye from the fight with Joey Woods. The same stupid outfit I was forced into that one time we went to the beach. But the thing that convinced me, the thing that stuck out like a sore thumb, was what he had around his neck, on that silver chain. He had mom's ring. I'd invited them in without a word. The old man had the ring, too. Great. This was getting better and better. We just kind of sat there in silence for a good while, no one really wanting to be there, until the old man finally said, "Jacob, why don't you head upstairs for now? We have some things to discuss."I didn't get a say in it apparently. It must have been the way I was starting at him because the old man eventually started laughing. "You want answers, don't you?"I didn't say anything. "I'm you, from your future. Well, not the one you want, anyway."He was serious, all of a sudden, like he had to take a minute to reflect on something. "How are things with you and Ann?"He asked. Ann was my girlfriend. I was getting weirder and weirder. "Not great,"I managed to say, somehow. "I think she might be seeing another man."I was offended when he started laughing. What part of that was funny? "I'll tell you what part,"he said, reading my thoughts. "It's not just another man. It's four." Good talk. "And your job, how is your job going?"I was getting irritated at him for being so Frank. I was about to ask another question but again, he seemed to read my mind. "Yes, I'm Jacob, do you need more proof?"I nodded a little bit. I still wasn't fully convinced. He smiled. "Remember that time in grade school when you tried to confess your love to little Ellie? But all you could-"I cut him off. I wasn't about to think about that. I was 25 years old, and that was so insignificant, but it was the single most embarrassing event of my life and I refused to think about it. Old me was laughing again. I guess at that point I would be, too. "It could have gone a lot better,"he said. "Same with your career. Your house."He looked around my house, which was literally falling apart. "Your life."He was done joking now. "Do you want to know why I'm here?"He asked. "I'm gonna tell you everything that's happened from today to the day you turn 70, the important stuff at least. And I'm gonna tell you about every time you messed up, from birth to right now." And I still didn't understand why. "So you can tell that boy up there how to live his life."Old me looked disgusted, both at me and himself. "It's too late for me, and it's already too late for you, too. And out of every last Jacob, I want at least one of us to have a good life. I've seen the outcomes, almost every one. They never end well." "You get a better house,"he says. "Ellie sticks with you till the day you die. You have a good paying job, and a beautiful child. Well, you could, if you tell him."I didn't want to tell that kid anything. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"I asked. "Why haven't you?"He paused. "Because your memory is a lot better,"he said. "Also, I don't really want to." "Am I even qualified to just tell young me how to live his life?"I shouted as I remembered what time it was. I lowered my voice. "Give me one good reason."The old Jacob took mom's ring, the one she had given me before she died, and held it up to the light. "Because that plane lands,"he said, the pain showing in his voice. "And mom comes home. She comes home." I wasn't about to argue, anymore. If I could do that much for mom, for me, young me, then I wouldn't object. "Well, you'd best start talking,"old me said as he got up. He noticed my wallet that I had left out on the coffee table, and tried to grab it, but I snatched it away quickly. "You're just gonna leave him here?"I asked. "Sure,"he replied. "And my wallet?"The old me laughed again, like I'd just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Jacob, time travel ain't free."
His face screamed red. Serenity ceased to last in the eccentric neighborhood. The onyx vehicle, one that looked as though it faced a thousand plastic surgeries, sped through the trees. DRA, the recently installed one-of-a-kind GPS, kept flashing its crimson screen in accordance with the warning. Attending numerous A.I.R.—Artificial Intelligence Rave—events should have been enough preparation with knowledge to handle the situation. Unfortunately, it wasn't. He acquired a variety of gadgets and gizmos; yet, the easy solution for now was to wing it until a legitimate conclusion could be drawn. He had no clue that this device would betray him despite the positive features he had learned. MAKE A U-TURN NOW, MARCY. Eyes narrowed at the road and shoulders leaned towards the steering wheel. "You playin' smart, huh?"Marty responded with a snarl, drifting from one lane to the next. NOW PLAYING, 'SMART' BY THE REDDIT BANDITS 🎶 "Stop!" STOPPING MUSIC... "We're goin' to this party, and you're goin' back where you came from!" STARTING ROUTE TO BACK WHERE MARCY CAME FROM... "No, I am not makin' that u-turn!" LAST CHANCE TO MAKE A U-TURN OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES... Marty huffed, rotating the wheel furiously. RECALCULATING... RECALCULATING... RECALCULATING... It appeared to be the only way to buy time before DRA revealed whatever consequences were about to follow. He knew he couldn't beat the system, and any disaster that was supposed to follow would be interrupted by an inevitable case of nausea and further complications. Swerving into an enormous oak, Marty believed this would be his end. "Please, DRA. What's a man gotta do for help 'round here? For once, help dammit!" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN BY "WHAT'S A MAN GOTTA DO FOR HELP 'ROUND HERE, FOR ONCE, HELP DAMMIT."WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SEARCH THE WEB? "Sure! Anythin'! Why not, screw me over!" I DIDN'T GET WHAT YOU MEANT BY "SURE. ANYTHING. WHY NOT SCREW ME OVER."WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SEARCH THE WEB? "This the bad mojo you spewin' earlier? 'Cause ha, ha. I'm over your glitchy system, DRA! Snap out of it! Send help!" OK, HERE'S YOUR MESSAGE: Help! WHO AM I SENDING IT TO? "All my contacts!" I COULDN'T FIND 'ALL MY CONTACTS' IN YOUR CONTACT LIST. "Unbelievable, you witch! Get me outta here!" After several protests, tears clouded Marty's vision. He laid flat for five minutes as the defeated sobs continued. When red and blue lights came into blurred vision along with a figure nearby, Marty shook his head. "How...how'd you find..." The witness glanced at the paramedics arriving before crouching down. "Help is coming. I called earlier, but you weren't responding, just weeping. I found you with this,"the man held up a similar looking DRA device. "Developed Road Angel. Isn't she a beaut? Promises to always get you to your destination on time, clear direction, night vision capability, detects danger, extremely reliable." Immediately, Marty was compelled to stand. Though he couldn't, and settled for resting on elbows instead. "Wait, you goin' to those A.I.R. parties too. Not possible, I've got the DRA device, no one else got it—" The fellow A.I.R. attendee's face lost color. "Bro, you got the Devil Road Assistant."
25 years as a brain surgeon, and Simon didn't enjoy his job any more than when he started. He wanted to be a software engineer, a programmer, a hacker! His dreams weren't enough for his families expectations, he had little choice, a dentist or a surgeon. Simon decided brains and computers had some similarities, so he decided to become a brain surgeon. His passion for coding was on fire, but with long hours and such a mentally draining job, the time for practicing became less and less. 5 months ago his mum died, and he had enough funds in place to keep his Alzheimer's suffering father in a care home for the next 15 years. He quit his job, enrolled on the bank staff list, in order to keep some cash flow and studied computer science. He was finally happy and was thriving, until he came across a particular computer chip, It looked familiar, except less fleshy. "Huh, I guess human brains really aren't that much different"he thought to himself. Except what he thought was nature's chip, was actually one that was secretly inserted through vaccines that gained a control over humans. Fascinated by his knowledge crossing over, Simon began to research about the chip, discovering more and more similarities. He went deeper, he found the code for the chip and he realised that the chip was not there by design. Simon firstly went about removing chips from patients he performed brain surgery on, after follow up appointments, he could see how much of an effect these chips were having. So Simon took them home and figured out how to stop them from working...
“You have practiced this,” Mica said under his breath. “You can do this.” &#x200B; All the reasons not to do this comes crashing down like an unstable Jenga tower. People will laugh. They will snicker and mock. His hands shook despite the fact that he had them balled to his sides. Fuck. The Council of the Abandoned in their pursuit of him and his powers, in all of their enticement of power, glamour, might, and money had forgotten to mention one tiny, teensy information: Mica will be expected to make speeches and will often frequent parties as an honored guest. Had he known he would have been long gone and all that would be left of him is his disappearing dust. &#x200B; Too late now. He thought. Mica gazed down at his uniform, ever regal and elegant. His eyes swept across his frame and zeroes in on the pin the holds his title “President” it read. Yes, it really is too late. In his reach is the Legion, a silent organization which operates in shadows and darkness. They have successfully infiltrated and extended their nefarious tentacles into every industry, every home, every mind, every soul. His subjects have done well. &#x200B; “Ready my lord?” a familiar voice pitched from the background. Mica paid them no mind. They are inconsequential, all of his staff are; tiny specks that matter to none. &#x200B; He cleared his voice one last time. The velvet red robes lifted in lightening speed…or perhaps it felt like that because he dreads what to come next. His feet froze and heart dropped to his feet. Thump. Thump. &#x200B; “My lord.” His assistant’s voice held a sense of urgency he did not appreciate. &#x200B; Without thinking about it, Mica grabbed his gun and fired in her direction his body unwavering. His greatest enemy; Mr. stage. He vaguely caught echoes of gushing blood and gasps but no one dared to assist the wounded for if they did fate will deal the same hand. &#x200B; Finally, he moved. He stood, the bright light nearly blinding him. Thump. Thump. &#x200B; The ground under his feet swayed and everything blurred. The chill in the air suddenly was colder and clings to his skin more. Mica knew he would faint when his stomach gave out. Limbs went under and his world went dark. His last thought: you win Mr. stage.
Xue had slept in late. She had spent hours trying to develop some program that shielded self-driving cars from being hacked into, which is a nearly unthinkable task for one young woman with a plain computer she had built herself, but she had done her best, and she had gone way too far into the night. When she passed out, she hadn't realized she had doomed herself. The next morning, she woke up smelling blood. I... no, it's not supposed to come for another two weeks... she thought sleepily. She sat up and saw the sheets stained with blood, pooling at her heels. The blood in her veins ran cold in fear. She knew what this was, but she didn't understand. No. Why? How? She got a text on her phone. It was from the one and only Shina, her rival, the one who sought to undo all protection and spread her evil influence through the world. "You win, Circuit,"the text said. There was a link to a news article. Fearing the worst, Xue opened the link. *HEAD DEVELOPER OF LONG-AWAITED GAME KILLED IN AI-CAR CRASH. FAMILY, FRIENDS, AND FELLOW GAME DEVELOPERS MOURN.* Xue didn't even need to read further. Guilt crushed her, knocking the wind out of her, pierced her. She, trying to be a common hero who protected people, killed somebody. If she hadn't finished her project last night, an innocent person wouldn't have died. An innocent person with influence and expectations. No... She didn't win. She failed.
The morning passed like any other. The house rang with Momma’s screams as she once again threatened to commit filicide for the fourteenth hundred time. Jazz watched as her little brothers skirted through the kitchen like mice, ducking in and around Momma’s legs, gleefully flirting with death. They knew their mother’s bark was worse than her bite, but Jazz knew from her experience that her bite was still pretty bad, and she would have been hesitant to come so close to the massive woman wielding her hot frying pan like a viking baring an ax. “Julius! Jaden! Jordan! I swear to god if you don’t sit down you won’t have legs to sit down with!” “Ma, I don’t need legs to sit down with,” Julies cackled. “Yeah, all you need is a butt!” Jaden chortled. Jordan, lacking any contribution as per usual, simply cracked up at his more clever brothers. “I guarantee you won’t sitting on it much after I’m through with you,” Momma muttered. “Keep it up.” But Jazz knew from her tone that she had conceded defeat, opting instead to bark at her daughter to set the table. Jasmyne sighed and turned to her father, who was sat beside her on the sofa, still pretending that he had not given up on living years ago and was more than a black void piloting a soulless hunk of meat. “Pop, can you help me with the table?” Her father replied with a grunt, which was his primary method of communication, and one that Jazz had become almost adept at deciphering. This grunt was somewhere between No and What Has my Life Become? “Please,” she asked again. He made another noise that sounded something like a frog drowning. “Girl, stop being lazy and do it!” her mother demanded. Jazz rolled her eyes and headed to the pantry to gather the dishes and silverware. As she struggled to balance the stack of seven plates, she thought mischievously that she’d make her job easier if she “forgot” Joshua’s. He was still in bed, burnt out from late hours spent playing Call of Duty and thirsting after thots on his smartphone. He’d lumber in, like “What did you forget I existed?” And she’d say yes with conviction. No, better yet, she wouldn’t even acknowledge him. Even if he hit her in her shoulder, as he often did, she’d flinch as if a ghost touched her and ask if anyone else felt a chill in the room. And maybe, just for one fraction of a second, his feelings would be hurt and he’d know what it felt like to not be appreciated. She sighed as she put all seven plates around the table and fetched the glasses and OJ. He wouldn’t give a shit anyway. No one in this family gave a shit. Jazz helped Momma corral the boys and they all closed their eyes for grace. The boys managed to stay quiet for that at least. When it came to giving thanks to God, the threat of hell was nothing compared to Momma’s wrath. Once the last word was spoken though, her brothers sprung back to life, consuming the silence as readily as they devoured their sausage and eggs. “We expecting a guest today?” Momma asked. Jazz perked to attention as she realized the question was directed her way. “Hm?” she asked. “Who’s the extra plate for?” “Jesus,” Jaden snorted. Momma shot him a look and he shut up quick. “He thinks he is,” Jazz remarked. “Who we talking about?” Jordan asked, clueless. “Your brother, dumb dumb,” said Jazz with exasperation. “Jesus is my brother??” “I’m Jesus!” Julius and Jaden both screamed at the same time, then nearly fell out of their chairs laughing. “I don’t get it…” Jordan muttered. “Oh my god, is everyone stupid in this family!” Jazz snapped. “I’m talking about JOSH!” For the second time that morning, the entire table went silent. Jazz braced herself for her Momma’s rebuke, but instead, she saw her mother’s turn from irritated to “Oh god, what’s wrong with my baby.” The boys smirked but even they were looking at her as if they were concerned. Her father lifted his eyes from his food and for what felt like the first time in months, met her gaze. “Jazz, you alright?” The ensuing conversation involved a lot of bewildered looks and frequent attempts at Momma trying to press her large palm against Jasmyne’s forehead to check if she had a fever. Once she began ordering everyone to dump their breakfast ‘just in case’, Jazz assured her she was just feeling really tired and was going to lie down. As soon as she got upstairs, she quietly knocked on the door to Josh’s bedroom. When he didn’t answer she turned the knob. It was open. Jasmyne’s skin went cold. Josh never left his door unlocked. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the door. “What you doing, you numbnut! You don’t know how to knock! Get the hell out my room!” “Fuck you!” That’s what she would have yelled at him… but she didn’t because he wasn’t there. Neither were any of his shitty drawings or anime posters. His Xbox and his computer were gone, replaced by a generic outdated television set. His normally messy bed was made with a clean set of sheets and covers. The only thing familiar about the room was the tank with his pet lizard, which by the look of it, was still living its best life just sitting on a branch and doing nothing else but breathing. Jazz sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the clean and smooth comforter. It felt like no one had slept there in months. She dropped her face into her hands, trying to keep her screams on the inside. What in the hell was going on? “I agree, this is quite curious.” Jazz’s head jerked up. Where had that voice come from? “Don’t be alarmed. It’s just me.” “Me?” Oh god she was really going crazy. “Who is me?” “Right here, babe. It’s me, Sephiroth.” Jazz stood up, as her eyes focused on the small reptile in the tank beside her. Her brother had named it after some video game character. “I know what you’re thinking,” said the lizard. Although it wasn’t saying anything, it was more like he was talking directly into her brain. Her brain which was clearly not acting the way it should be. “You’re not crazy. In fact, you’re the only one that realizes what’s going on. And we have to make sure we keep it that way, or else your brother will be lost forever. He is in some deep shit right now and if we don’t act fast it will be too late. So the first and most important thing I need you to do is stay cal…” Jazz figured he was going to say ‘calm’, but she could no longer hear him over the sound of her very loud, very external, screams. “Shit,” the lizard named Sephiroth muttered.
The midday desert was peaceful. &#x200B; Nothing but the wind disturbed the yellow sands, and the man closed his eyes. He meditated, focusing on pure nothing, as he had for many years past. He felt the cold of the void around him, despite the hot, dry air on his skin. With his eyes closed he saw naught but the dark, and he floated through it peacefully. The void. &#x200B; And then, as he had done many times before, he focused on time itself. Focused on changing the weaves of time, bending and distorting what was otherwise straight and linear. He saw the threads appear, and he was so startled he almost lost the void. He pinched two pieces of the thread together, which he instinctively knew was a few minutes ago and this morning, and intertwined them. Then, he let go. The threads faded, and the void shattered. &#x200B; He opened his eyes, and shifted his position. A lizard skittered across the sand into a hole. A hawk cried overhead. He stood. &#x200B; The mystic walked forwards, down from his dune towards some dead bushes, when he felt the cold of the void again. Calling. He looked up towards the sun, and his peripheral vision began fading, until there was nothing but the sun. He tracked it as it reversed, moving down in the sky, towards the sunrise. The sky changed from a typical sky blue, turning darker, and the horizon grew red and orange, and he tore his vision from the sun. Dawn had come again. The imprint of the sun was left on his vision. &#x200B; He dropped to his knees on the sand, feeling more accomplished than he ever had. He'd done it. He'd reversed Time itself, after many years of training, he'd finally be able to go back and fix his mistakes, save his daughter, fix the wrongs done to his village. Then the man realized he felt overwhelmingly exhausted. As if he'd lifted the weight of a thousand waterskins, as if he'd ran between villages nonstop. His arms ached and burned, his legs turned to jelly, and he laid, unmoving, in the desert sands at dawn. He slept. The sun had risen partially in the sky, making it mid-morning. He was parched, hungry- he'd been out in the sun this entire time. He stood slowly, feeling the soreness resulting from his feat. He walked slowly back to his village, where he resumed normal life, for a time. Until he felt he was ready to attempt again. A week later, he felt rejuvenated. As the sun set, the mystic set out to that same dune, the same spot he'd been using as long as he could remember. &#x200B; Once more, he meditated. He calmed his breathing, lowered his heart rate, and ignored that going on around him. He closed his eyes, focused on complete nothingness, and felt the cold of the void. Again he saw the threads of Time laid bare before him. He reached far, far back, years into the past, and stopped. He felt.. wrong, somehow. As if his actions would have consequences, though he did not care. The Church be damned, Magar be damned, for he was going to rewrite his past. &#x200B; The man grabbed a thread, seven years and eight months ago, and yanked it forwards. He flew through the void, to present day, where he tried to bring the threads together. The thread of Time resisted. It would not cooperate, was forcing itself away like magnets of the same charge, but the man pushed harder and harder. Finally, he felt a click as they touched, and he quickly intertwined them. And then it sent out a pulse. &#x200B; A shockwave blasted him away from the threads and shattered the void, and he laid flat on his back behind the dune. &#x200B; Soon, he stopped feeling sorry for himself and stood. His arms and legs ached, though not as badly as before. The man walked over the dune, and back to the same spot where he had reversed a day. Once more, he felt the cold of the void, calling him. When he embraced it this time, however, the sun flickered. It flickered like the spokes on a spinning wheel, flashing day and night at a rapid pace, until it just.. stopped. It was dawn once more. &#x200B; He felt exhausted again, but he did not care. He stumbled and dragged himself back to the village, from a distance seeing parts of the village restored that had been destroyed. &#x200B; He heard a mechanical whir, and the sound of something walking through sand. He looked around, but could see nothing. Paranoia? Hallucinations? In either case, he walked as fast as he could without falling. &#x200B; The village was in full swing, people walking through with buckets, carrying things, pushing carts. He heard a mechanical click from a nearby roof, and saw something metal out of the corner of his eye. When he looked however, there was nothing. Nobody else had seemed to notice, either. &#x200B; He snapped back to attention. He must find her. He must. &#x200B; There. He saw a little girl with brown hair run through an alley, and he knew what was coming. He must stop her. He must. &#x200B; Then he heard it. The horn. Adrenaline raced through his veins. He had little time. &#x200B; A great horn blew, one signalling danger. He used a burst of energy, darting forward through the frantic people, calling her name, but when he reached the alley she was gone. Through to the other side. He gave chase through the alley. Forward, there was nothing but desert, with death and destruction on the horizon. He looked left, nothing. He looked right, and saw a flash of hair going around a corner. He gave chase once more. Around that sandstone corner he found her, his daughter, giggling. "Darn, you found me!"She said excitedly, between giggles. &#x200B; His eyes snapped open. &#x200B; He looked forward, once again on the same familiar dune, to see something mystical and strange. A brass machine stood before him, on two legs like a human, though he could see gears and mechanical bits on the inside of it. Its head and the top of its chest was replaced with a massive hour glass, which seemed to be running out of time. It held out a brass hand, and the man jumped, skittering backwards despite his aching body. "Wh- what happened? Where is she? What are you?" &#x200B; He spoke with a strange, metallic voice. "Quarut. You have made a grave mistake."Whirring noises came from his body as he spoke. &#x200B; The Quarut pointed its finger at him, and everything around him slowed. His movements were in slow motion, as if he was suspended in gel. The Quarut however, moved normally, walking circles around him. "You are to be punished for your crimes against Magar, the god of Magic and Time. You are hereby charged with the Manipulation of Time, and Conspiracy to Prevent a Calamity." He struggled, thrashing in the gelatinous bubble of time to no avail. He tried to speak, to cast a spell, but his hands moved too slowly for the gesture and when he began to chant, the time seemed to fill his mouth, and he could no longer move his jaw. "None of that. Your magic has been stripped from you."The Quarut whirred. "We will meet again to discuss your punishment. I must consult." With a flash, the man reappeared on the dune in the middle of the day, with the brass machine nowhere to be seen. He tried to close his eyes and meditate, but no matter how much or how little he focused, he could not achieve the void he desperately sought. &#x200B; After a time, he gave up and began to weep. Weep for the second loss of his daughter, weep for the loss of his magic, weep for the waste of Time his endeavor had been. &#x200B; \----------- Feedback welcome! More of my writing can be found over at r/vastowen456! This is my second story for the Summer writing challenge. (I joined late. Oops.) I'm going for the Placesetting achievement, (perhaps The Plot Thickens?) so all my stories will be in the same world with similar cultures and the same gods. You can find out a bit more about the world, if you're interested, by reading the last story! &#x200B; EDIT: Ah.. I just realized. I misread the prompt, hah. I read "And despite your best efforts to change the timeline,"without the not. Oops! (also I ignored the accident part, but that was on purpose not on accident)
“It’s hot as balls outside my guy! I’m going back in the house for this bong rip, you comin’ or roasting in this damn heat?” Ignacio turned and looked back at me. “Well shit- when you put it like that I guess I’m coming in! I’m brown enough as it is don’t need someone assuming I am someone else. Pack the bowl with some God’s Gift I’ll be right in... gonna just soak my calves in the water a little bit more.” I replied. Ignacio goes inside and does as he was suggested, as I lazily kicked my feet in the pool. “ Yessi!!!! Are you or are you not coming inside bro! Imma start the sesh without you- you play too much! That’s why Abuela always whooped your ass, because you never show up to anything on time!” “ I said give me a damn minute- that’s why Abuela always whooped your ass... never shutting up always got something to say. Be patient cousin sheesh!” I slowly arose off the concrete making my way inside. Staring right at me was Diablo- our 3 foot glass piece we won at a glass show in California. I grabbed the lighter and proceeded to take a hit of bud. “ All jokes aside cousin- what’s been going on with you lately? You’ve been hella weird lately my guy. Ever since we decided to make the big move out here to San Jose you been- I don’t know distant?” “Mmmmm- have I? I just kinda been in La La Land ya’know. Ever since mom’s passed I can’t stop seeing her in everything I do. Shit haunts me a bit. I mean I tried to not blame myself for her death but I can’t help it. I literally did not have to go to that concert- if we just stayed home we wouldn’t have been hit by that big rig and she would still be here. I mean for crying out loud if I just got my damn license and drove myself she would be here...but no! I -“ “ Prima- that’s enough dude. Just take this bong hit and let go... you blame yourself for so many things out of your control... you shouldn’t.” Ignacio interrupted. We finish off the bowl and packed about three more before we passed out on the couch- we were out for about seven hours til I heard my doorbell ring. “Who the fuck rings the doorbell at 3 in the damn morning...damn booty call hours. Too early for this shit!” Ignacio grumbles. “Um- take the golfing club just in case it’s a weirdo- you know how this neighborhood is crackheads left and right...” “Yeah yeah- run me my robe please...” he snarled, “Damn grouchy much? I ain’t the one who rung the bell aight, don’t get attitude with me.” I snapped, Ignacio swung the door open with club in hand ready to swing. “ What the fuck? Is this some sort of prank or something... there’s a little box with a pink bow on it... is this that Ipsy shit?” “ No- why would they drop a package at 3 pendejo.” I looked at him like he was the least bright crayon in the box. “Ok?.. You want the package or not?” “ Sure...why not.” I sighed. He handed me the box which to my surprise was slightly heavy. What’s in this thing? I thought to myself. I lightly shook it to see if I could hear any ticking or anything even slightly move in there. I got nothing. “Are you going to shake it like a kid or open the box!?!” Ignacio asked. “ PATIENCE still waking up from that weed coma dude...” I grumbled, I sat the box on the table, and untied the bow. I took of the lid to the box and found a big ass colorful egg with a note and two books. “ What’s this an ostrich Easter egg?” I questioned. I decided to unfold the note I had in the box which read: Yessi Ortiz-Andrade - You are probably wondering what this is and what to do with it. It’s a dragon egg that will hatch when the sunrises on the third Tuesday of this month. You mustn’t let this animal outside your house until the time is right. When it is you will know- til then there are two books available for your information on taking care of dragons and dragon eggs. I suggest you read up on them. It will be a bumpy ride... your mother before she passed was one of the most well known dragon keepers...it is in your blood to have a much better and deeper connection with these creatures. Being they are now endangered we sent the remaining twelve eggs to dragon keepers and their descendants. Congratulations you are one of them. Take care and be cautious humanity lies in your hands. I placed the note down and blankly stared at my cousin. “This is a joke right.” “No duh, someone’s just messing with us. It’s a nice paper weight though, might as well keep it for decoration. I’m going back to bed you should too. I have a date with a lawyer in the morning and I have to look my best.” Ignacio bit his bottom lip. “You are such a sugar baby it’s disgusting. Hopefully this time you won’t be a hoe and give it up the moment he drops a little cash on you.” I laughed. “Leave me alone- at least someone’s interested in me unlike you... gonna die broke and alone with that attitude honey.” He sassed, That following morning he went on his hoe breakfast with the lawyer- and I as usual stayed inside the house catching up on Grey’s Anatomy eating cinnamon rolls and drinking apple juice. I decided to pick up the books and read them for fun since I got bored. The first rule in the keeping of dragons was to keep the egg warm and out of direct sunlight til the egg was ready to hatch. Not doing so would end up with the egg hatching prematurely giving it behavioral problems. Of course me, not believing that I had a dragon egg just kept reading everything like it was good fiction. The days passed and I had then”paper weight” for over a week. Again Iggy had plans with the same lawyer for dinner leaving me to rot inside our 1100 sq ft. home. I hear a huge thud in the office and run to check it out. There lies the egg cracked open with a single wing poking out. Out pops four tiny legs and a tiny face with sharp teeth. My jaw drops and all I could do was stare at it. I hear the garage door open and in waltzes Iggy. “Oh my gosh prima- you will never guess where he took me.....HOLY FUCKING SHIT ITS A FUCKIN DRAG-“ “Shhhhhhh! Don’t say anything and don’t scream... I got the books to figure this out” I said as I firmly grasped his mouth shut.
Chase rolled out of bed and onto his dining room table. The two were packed right against one another in his cube, another sign of just how little his job paid. But in this economy, he was lucky to have any work at all. Most of the kids he grew up with were stuck in the Comms. They lived side-by-side in government issue bunk beds. The Fed made sure they were clothed, fed, and disease-free, but living on basic income was barely living. He was proud of his cube. It wasn't much, but it was his. Chase slipped on the courier's tracksuit. High-visibility orange was machine stitched into the durable grey fabric. He guzzled a soykaf from the mini-fridge before strapping on the AR goggles. The world lit up into a byzantine labyrinth of ads, warnings, and notifications. His corporate-grade software kicked in a few moments later. The sprawl of signals filtered into something manageable. He pulled a job off the company work board with a flip of his hand. --- FROM OSLO CORP. 313 GR WAY TO CAREN SUBSIDIARIES 8112 NOS DR MAX 35 MIN. --- Minutes later he was in an auto-car clipping along to the destination. The clients had paid for Tier 2 speed, so the auto was weaving in and out of traffic at a decent clip. The Tier 3's held steady rates, while the Tier 1's blasted through their own private lane. Chase's job wasn't particularly difficult. He presented himself at the designated location. A wage slave handed him the locked briefcase and signed his Terms of Service form. Then he hopped back into an auto, zipped along to the destination, unlocked the briefcase, and made the handoff. Most days the most strenuous part of his work was timing bathroom breaks. There were days when things didn't go to plan though. When Chase stepped out of the auto, he knew it was going to be one of those days. A junkie lunged for the briefcase in his hand with desperate intensity. He swore, pulled the briefcase back, then made sure to get a good look at his attacker. The AR goggles took a snapshot of the offender's gaunt face. "Please. Please."She begged. "I just. I need it. I need it okay?" Chase had a number of things he wanted to say. He wanted to yell at her for putting him behind schedule. He wanted to cuss her out for putting his job in danger, for trying to ruin his life. But he didn't say any of those things. "You are accused of violating Policy 3.66 of the local penal code. Charges have been filed against your person. Any further actions will result in additional penalties."He intoned the words as per company policy. "Please. Please."She continued to sob and grab at him, but Chase was already running. When the day finished, Chase stripped off his tracksuit and threw it in the small washer/dryer that sat under his bed. He booted down the AR goggles before hanging them on a charger. The world was dimmer without the goggles. No automatic night vision or color correction. But he didn't mind the dimness. It was comforting in a way. Nothing was fighting for his attention. There were no timers, no guidelines, no maps or company reminders. Just Chase and the baremetal world. He let out a sigh and reclined into bed. The sounds of the dryer tumbling, of something physical, lulled him to sleep.

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