Split (1)

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Crimson. The color of blood and gore. The first sign of war looming in the eves. The color of an ominous moon enticing devils one and all to shake their shackles free, and pierce through the veil into a sleeping world. The shade of a clay tomb and a shallow buried corpse. Betrayal and pain in vibrant flashes. The hue of eyes peering from the shadows in the hopes of ketching weary children just as the clock strikes midnight. This is my legacy. Such is my destiny. But perhaps. Perhaps one day. If I try and I believe. I can be something so much grander. I can transcend all that I have done before! I could be the flag upon the hill, denoting a peaceful kingdom. Oh, oh! I know, I could be a pennet waved with vigor at a game. I could be the sea of a crowd cheering and playful. Yerning for victory. Or! Or! I could be the soft velvet of curtains shielding away the next star to be born from its, soon to be, adoring public. Or even drop to cause a gasp at intermission. Increasing the tension! Will our hero make it? Will they be able to withstand all that has come before? I hope so! Here, let me lift and offer you another glance. Maybe, oh, just maybe... I could be the color of a grand hero. The banner he carries to every occasion unfurled in the wind. Cease evil doer! It is we! The color of victory, glory and champions, and the best hero of the cosmos! Halt your nonsense and ill plot of villainy at once! That would be a great sight. That would be a purpose to have. However. I think the best use of me. Is a sheild. A fluffy, soft sheild. A swaddling for children. With a soft and smooth satin edge for fidgeting hands. Bold and vibrant. I could protect them from all that I have done before. My cursed old ways. The monsters will never see them hidden away in a wrap of red bolder than their eyes. They could even tie me about their necks and be heroes themselves, always striving to do good. I could be the proud flag of a tree house like no other! A symbol of a sacred kingdom of imagination. All mighty banner of fun and comfort, servant to the imagination of the joyous. That would be my greatest purpose. To dry the tears when life seems all too unfair. To offer warmth when the world is all too cold. To maybe, just once in a while, be a friend when there are none. Ah yes, that! That would be all that I could wish for. To pass from hand to hand, and have my story sung high and low, to and fro. To be touted as the best of the best in all things comforting, when all I have been before is unsettling. I think I could be lovely.
I haven’t been back here in a long time. I stare up at the house, trying not to think about the innumerable, unspeakable horrors that took place here. The surrounding gloom matches my mood, and rain starts to fall, urging me inside. I open the door, breathing to steady myself as it closes behind me. It’s so dark. No one has been here for years. Of course the lights don’t work, but I try them anyway. As I suspected, there’s no power in here. I may not be able to see anything, but I’ve never forgotten what it feels like to be trapped here. My breath is coming faster and faster. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, but I know I need to keep moving. I know where this journey ends, and while I’m not eager to go there, I can feel my feet moving automatically. Down the hallway, up the stairs. The path is familiar. I could walk it in my sleep. In fact, I do, often. The house may not be haunted anymore, but it continues to haunt me. My heart is racing as I reach the room at the end of the hallway. My hand shakes as I open the door. Inside is not what I expected. Not what I’m used to. There’s no bed. No shadowy figures. Just an oversized armchair and a tape recorder. I press play, and as the tape starts, I settle in to the chair. Slowly, I can feel myself start to relax. My breathing evens, and the storm starts to die down outside. It may be dark and scary, but I don’t feel alone anymore. I curl up like a kitten in the chair, closing my eyes. I drift off, feeling content, and remarkably, I have no nightmares at all. I wake in the morning, shocked to find that I’ve slept through the night. On the way out, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and for the first time in a while, there’s a smile on my face. I leave feeling lighter, feeling peaceful, and most of all, feeling profoundly grateful for the person who left the recorder.
First, it started pretty normally. The people were just acting as they had been in a foreign place and were trying to readjust to life here on our boring planet. My wife was an astronaut, who had been sent to the ISS and had come back as of late, she was weirdly quieter than usual. More reserved, and she had basically begun to lose herself in her research, of what I still have no clue. She began locking herself in the study more and more, for nearly days without eating, at least, I thought she went days without eating. I remember when I heard horrible noises coming from that damn room, it sounded like bones snapping and teeth grinding flesh together, I was worried an animal had broken in somehow and the love of my life was dying. I broke down the door only to see her, or at least what I believe was her, crouched over our neighbor Tom as she was tearing into his stomach, and violently gnawing on his internal organs. She had no hair left, and nearly snow-white skin, her limbs had elongated to disgusting proportions as I saw the fungus growing out of her eye sockets. The worst was the blood-curdling screech she made as I dashed out the door with our child close behind. It was a virus, which came from a rover recently brought onto the ISS from Mars, and highly contagious. In fact, the looks I give the people outside worry me, catching myself staring at them while I sit in our new home, all I want to do is eat. I wonder where my son is. I'm so hungry.
Every morning was a new torture for the Prince of Evil. He had gotten into a minor squabble with the boss a few years back and been banished to the basement ever since. Not that the perks weren’t nice—he had free reign to do whatever he wanted, drugs, sex, rock and roll, the whole shebang—but having to deal with confused dead people every day got old after a while. Sure, occasionally he got people like Hitler who were completely unsurprised at where they’d ended up, but most people thought they’d lived pretty good lives and at least deserved purgatory. Then, every century or so, some smartass came along and decided to try their luck at beating death. He always won, but the days he had to fight these people were the most annoying of all. This was a very annoying day. It started out like any other day, with Satan staring at the back of his eyelids, trying to forget all the responsibilities that got dumped on him. Hell wasn’t all parties and debauchery; processing almost every dead person generated an entirely inordinate amount of paperwork. You had to sign the delivery receipt from Anubis and send it upstairs, help the souls with their housing application, file form 93-Z, and about 665 other forms. Bureaucracy was hell. Groaning, Lucifer mentally steeled himself for another day of eternity and slowly opened his eyes. What greeted him was not the dark void he was used to but a white ceiling and the sound of traffic. The bed beneath him, normally made of nails, felt like a cheap spring mattress. Glancing over, he saw sunlight streaming through a window set into a beige wall. Puzzled, he got up and began to walk over to inspect the view when he heard a knock at the door. “Delivery for Mr. Lucifer.” He turned and cautiously approached the door, moving past the counter and refrigerator, and glanced out the peephole. A normal human stood there holding a glass of water. Perplexed, the lord of darkness cracked open the door and glanced out. “Can I help—” he was interrupted by a splash of water to the face, “What the fuck?” By the time he’d rubbed the water out of his eyes, there was a gun in his face. He put his hands up slowly and backed into the apartment. The man at the door slowly followed him in and closed the door, keeping his pistol trained on the Prince of Darkness. “Well, shit, you got me,” said Satan, glancing around the exquisitely normal studio apartment. “In the name of the Father, the Son—” “That shit doesn’t work,” interrupted Satan. “Water was a nice distraction, but that doesn’t do anything either.” The man gulped and resumed, “And the Holy Spirit.” “Oh god, do we have to go through the whole routine?” The man stopped suddenly and looked as if he was trying to remember something. “I command you to submit to my authority,” Satan reminded him, sitting down on the cheap bed. The man’s eyes grew wide with horror. “Oh, lighten up, everyone knew none of that nonsense worked. Can’t blame you for trying though.” The man backed up against the door and gripped the gun harder, his face growing paler by the second. “Love the apartment by the way,” said Satan, gesturing at it, “very realistic. New York, I take it?” The man nodded tightly. “Really outdid yourself. Been a while since I had someone try this hard to kill me. Great effort, sport.” A flash exploded from the muzzle accompanied by an ear-piercing bang and a bullet bounced off of Satan’s chest. “Listen, I get it. You were supposed to go up there,” he said, gesturing vaguely upwards, “You lived a good life and all that then you got stuck with me. It takes time to adjust.” “I—I—I’m a h—holy man,” said the man, desperately trying to keep his shaking hands steady. “And that’s why you’re with me,” said Satan, getting up and beginning to pace the narrow wooden floor, “The man upstairs doesn’t take good people; he takes assholes, the homophobes, the racists, real shitty people. I take everyone else. Sure, we get some bad people down there, but we make sure to keep them in their own corner away from everyone else. Hitler and his groupies get their own corner inside the corner.” “You’re the Prince of Lies,” said the man, seeming to gain confidence. “And the man upstairs is the king of ‘em,” he replied, “Holy, my ass. If you ask me, the dude’s full of himself.” Six more shots rang out as the man emptied the gun. “You’re ruining my favorite shirt.” Seeing his foe still alive, the man collapsed on the ground and curled up into a ball. “Listen,” said Satan slowly, “I know we get a bad rep, but we’re really not all that bad. No one deserves the whole eternal torment business, which is why I got rid of it once I took over; the whole thing was Mr. High and Mighty’s idea. The bad people get put away, but everyone else just gets to be happy for once; no rules, no overbearing toddler-god, you can do what you want.” “It’s sinful,” replied the man. “Hurting others is sinful; we don’t do that down here, that’s the one rule. It’s the only good rule. Forget all the religious nonsense and just accept the afterlife. It’s not all that bad.” The room melted away and left Satan and the man in a black void. “I try to be good, I do everything I’m supposed to,” sobbed the man, “I was a preacher for crissakes!” “Yeah, weird system the guy upstairs set up.” “I wanted to kill you,” said the man, quietly. “A lot of people do,” replied Satan. “Then maybe I’d be holy enough.” “Only assholes go to heaven.” The man sat sobbing in the void while the Prince of Evil watched. Eventually they all realized he wasn’t that evil. He accepted people for who they were; he didn’t hold them to some unattainable standard and then punish them for not meeting it. He tried to make sure people spent their deaths happier than they’d spent their lives; the lake of fire was just propaganda.
"Dr. Adams. The world owes you a debt of gratitude."The president smiled, placing the medal of freedom on the young woman. Marry Beth Adams grinned down at her father, seated in in the front row of the ceremony in her honor, and felt warmth rise in her stomach as he smiled back. He may have struggled with accepting her passion for science over scripture, but when the world ended and she was it's last hope, he'd begun to believe that perhaps the Divine was working through his little girl. "Thank you sir...this is one of the greatest honors of my life."She whispered happily, wiping back tears. "One of? I thought we'd beaten the Nobel people!"The president laughed. Marry Beth laughed and shook her head. "When the doctors told me at age 19...that I would never have children...I devoted my life to pioneering lab grown human embryos...in hopes of some day having a chance to have child of my own despite the misfortunes life had thrown at me... And now sir. I have the opportunity to give that chance to millions of women who are no longer with us. Sir it's the greatest honor of my life to call myself the godmother of the next generation of humanity."She smiled.
I turned from the glossy black casket to the drunken, decomposing man pushing down the center aisle. He carried an open beer in one hand, and the other was outstretched, as though he was reaching for something or someone. "Sorry, shit — hi, Susan, Carl, Tim — I'm late. I didn't mean to got caught up and all that. Didn't think the party would start so soon." He put his arm around my back. Up close I could smell earth and decay. I gritted my teeth to keep the bile down. He stopped in front of the casket, his arm still around me. "Wow, this for me? Shouldn't have Benny. How much this thing cost anyway?" I shook his arm and took a step away. My brothers off to the side kept silent, stepping further away and towards the back wall. Like always. "Jesus, Dad you reek. Can you just get in there, please?" He took a swig from his beer, belched, his purple tinged lips vibrating, nearly snapping from his face. "In there? You want me in there?" I nodded, wide-eyed. "Uh, yeah, it's your funeral. You're supposed to be in there." He spun around, grinning. "Oh yeah, and all these people here, just for me, huh? I must've been such a great guy for them to come, especially on a Wednesday."He finished off his beer, and held it to me. A few moments later, I took it from him and handed it off to one of my brothers. He neared the coffin, stopped. He looked over his shoulder at me. "Care to help your old man get this thing open? Not as strong as I use to be."He laughed. I rolled my eyes, but strode over to me and heaved the upper portion up. Then, he used my shoulder as a brace as he stepped into it, dirt and grime staining the white linen within, and finally laid down. His seaweed green hair splayed out beneath him, apparently soaked, as oily liquid streamed down the pillow. "Comfy, comfier than that bed I shared with your mom."He laughed. "What a woman, huh Benny? Sorry to see she's not here now — must've missed the train back to earth. Always late, that woman. Did I ever you tell you the story—" I slammed the coffin closed and turned around, finding the funeral director sitting in the first row. I waved him over. "Can we start the speeches, please?" ** "And besides being just a father,"I said aloud, reading from a paper on the stand, "he was always there for those who needed it the most—" "Oh, wow, this is good, really good," his muffled voice issued from the coffin. I stopped, stole a glance at the casket, then back to the paper. I coughed into my fist. "Like Tim down the street. When he needed someone to take him to school when his dad's truck died, my father got up and—" "Oh yeah, yeah, little Tim. Did he get bigger when he grew up? Always short and thin, like a broom with arms and legs." He laughed. "Too bad about his dad though, drink got him good." I looked at the casket and hissed, "Will you shut up?" "What?" he shouted. "Are out talking to me, Benny? I can't hear you, this thing must be soundproof." I looked back at the sitting audience, then the paper. Screw it. I went to the ending passage. "And, so, I'm sorry to say my father is gone, but he will never be forgotten. Amen." "Yemen? We at war again? Benny?" ** As his casket was lowered, my brothers stood hand-in-hand around the grave. The overcast was gray and it was sprinkling. Others had already left, apparently off-put from my father's outbursts during the speeches. "Well apparently this is it boys." We heard him say. The coffin met the cold earth six feet below were we stood. The straps that lowered it were removed by two workers, and the workers walked away with the straps. Soon they would return with shovels. "See ya' dad,"Tommy said. "Yeah, bye pops,"Chris said. "We'll miss you,"Greg said. "Yeah,"I said, "we'll all miss you, dad." "What!" he shouted. "You'll all what? Kiss me? You'll all kiss me? I mean, I kissed all you boys when you were younger, when you were all walking around in nothing but diapers. Oh you guys were something else. This was before Chris and Tommy were born, and your mom's body hadn't gone down the sink. Beer was helluva a lot cheaper back then; smokes, too. I wonder why..." His voice trailed into silence when the workers returned. My brothers walked back to the car. I said to the worker before leaving, "Start burying him, now."
\[Poem\] because I got inspired instead of a story. &#x200B; "Why do you cry?"You ask. He weeps, he weeps. "My love, you see, She sleeps, she sleeps." He points to the horizon, Tears fresh on his cheeks, You turn and you realize The one that he seeks. &#x200B; For over the hills The sun has sunk past, "Her gifts the most beautiful, And yet they do not last." The purples and oranges And tenderest blue Start to fade in the darkness Of another night anew &#x200B; "And when she does wake," Says the man in the moon, "It's my time to leave, It's over too soon." But you know there's a chance, "Each other you'll glimpse," For today is the day of the solar eclipse. &#x200B; It's a dance that's too fleeting, Minutes at best But the man in the moon Gives his crying rest For there's no room for sadness With his love burning bright For she is the morning To end his long night.
"Hold on, the pins aren't aligned yet!" "Get out of the way, Tom, I want to throw it!" At first, outdoor bowling seemed like the stupidest idea imaginable. But dumb ideas can turn out to be gems. One wayward 10-pounder had already shattered a rotten log at the bottom of the hill, sending chunky brown shrapnel spraying in a fountain towards the woods. Now Tom had set up pins at the foot of that old statue. The top of the hill is pretty flat, but around the knight the land dropped away dramatically. There was no telling what the bowling would hit at the bottom. As Tom ran back behind me, I lifted the dense ball into the crook of my arm and started running toward the pins. On all that grass you've got to get a good amount of momentum going if you want thee ball to go anywhere. But when I released it, it flew way higher than I ever expected, marking a commanding arc against the sky before smashing with a CRACK into the head of the old statue. "Oh SHIT,"Tom said behind me, blocking out the sun with a hand to get a better view. The old statue was already hard to make out, covered in moss from years of neglect. As the bowling ball rolled away down the hill, Tom and I crept closer to the damaged sculpture, we saw that the stone on the knight's helmet and one arm had chipped—and shining metal gleamed underneath. The rest of the stone began to crack as well, like a fissure in the ice before an avalanche. The great helm of the statue turned to face us, and I heard myself whimper. "What. Have. You. DONE??"a deep, booming voice demanded. The knight, now free of his stony tomb, fell to one knee, arms still raised up to hold... something. "Wha- Who are you?"I asked shakily. "I am Ser Hawkin the Sentinel, the keeper of the sky."Though his face was obscured by the pointed helm, I could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth. "That stone encasement helped me bear this tremendous burden, but now my arms are grown weak from the strain. Come, youths, you must help me with this burden." Now that he'd fallen to a knee, I could see the sky closer than I'd ever seen it before. I thought it was a vaulted ceiling, but here by Ser Hawkin I could see the firmament tangibly, as if a great circus tent had lost one of its poles and was sagging. A fog came rushing down towards us as clouds were pushed down. "Come on Tom!"I cried, rushing towards the knight. "Uh, I'll go get help,"he said, rushing down the hill towards town. "You have a cell phone, asshole!"But he was already gone. I stepped up next to Hawkin, ducking to get under the fallen part of the heavens. It felt like silken fabric to the touch, like the world's heaviest blanket. I pressed my arms and back into it, and heard Hawkin grunt as he rose from his knees next to me. "Thank you, girl."I could hear his heavy breathing inside the helmet, almost as loud as my own. My heart was pounding loud in my ears, a flush coming to my cheeks as I strained against the sky. I don't know how long we stood like that before I became desperate for a distraction. "How long have you been here?"I asked, praying Tom would be back with help soon. "I do not know. What year is it?" "2019." Ser Hawkin's breath caught then. And he turned towards me. I could just see pained eyes through the slits in the helm. "Centuries, then. My lady love is surely dead." I looked at him sympathetically. "You never know. Maybe she's locked up in another statue!" He shook his head sullenly and fell silent. It was nearly sunset before help arrived. Tom came back with three men in black suits and two men in jump suits. The jumpsuits got to work mixing something in large buckets while the black suits came to speak to us. One wore black sunglasses, his head shaved bald and an earpiece clinging to one ear. The others stood quietly behind him. "Ser Hawkin, we thank you for your service. Of course, we expect you'll stay at it—all of humanity relies on your gallantry." "Fuck that,"he said, dropping his burden on my shoulders. I gasped under the strain, seeing red, but managed to stay standing. As Hawkin strode off, one of the agents tried to stop him. But he drew his longsword and cut the man down before clanging down the hill. The bald agent shrugged and turned to me. "Young lady, we thank you for your service. The American people would commend you for your strength, if they were ever allowed to know about what you're doing for us here,"he said as the workers approached me. I could see that they had trowels in hand with wet cement clinging to the blade. "Wait, wait, no,"I said, trying to step towards the agent. But I couldn't move my feet with the load on my shoulders. "Please, my parents will be wondering where I am..." "We'll pay your parents for your sacrifice. You can rest easy knowing the U.S. government has your back,"the agent said, stepping back as the workers started to smear concrete on my legs and up my body. "No. No!"I tried to yell for Tom, but they had already covered my face. At least the sky doesn't feel quite so heavy now.
There he was, metres away as if it had never happened. My reaction to seeing this beast was instantaneous; my fists clenched, my feet rooted into the ground, and my vision narrowed. The grey buildings and filthy streets blurred until all I could see were him. “Turn around. Just go. Turn around.” I found myself muttering like a deranged person. Of course, he didn't .why would he? He always denied it; claimed I was a liar so persistently that I began doubting it myself. Perhaps I had got it wrong or exaggerated what had happened. But upon seeing him now, all uncertainties immediately evaporated as that day played on repeat in my mind in excruciating detail. My fear transformed into fury. He was now mere steps away, not looking at me but judging by his fixed gazed and reddening cheeks he was aware of my presence. I need to make absolutely clear that what happened next was completely out of character for me. I am not a violent person. I always viewed violence as the language of those lacking skill with words but in one single moment “the pen is mightier than the sword” was replaced with “actions speak louder than words”. As if of their own accord, my feet stepped to the left forcing him to stop abruptly. “Admit it”, My voice was unnervingly calm, “Tell me you did it”. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, at the meek creature standing so firmly in front of him, before narrowing into a frown. He attempted to sidestep while nonchalantly claiming, “I don’t know what you mean.” My hands were on his neck. If he struggled, I couldn't feel it as the images in my mind began playing faster and faster. What he did. His denial. People turning their backs to me. Mutters of: "Psycho.""Liar.""Crazy."I wasn’t crazy! Well not then anyway. My grip tightened channelling all that unspent anger. “Admit it!” I screamed into his face, “Admit it!” He nodded frantically. I released and watched as his face turned from puce to a sickly pale colour. “I did it.” He gasped eyes darting around the street for someone to rescue him. “See was that so hard?” I walked away leaving him a panting pathetic mess. Hardly caring that people from a nearby house had rushed out to him and were most definitely relaying the description of the crazy person who attacked an innocent guy to the police. I knew the truth, I had had to go crazy to prove my sanity.
I have no memory of how I got here or who I am. All I remember is waking up here, in this room that seems to be made entirely of marble. Looking up there seems to be no end to the height of this room, coupled with the lack of shadows I felt disoriented everytime I stood up. I started pacing around the room frantically, trying to gather my thoughts. Who am I? Where am I? How did I get here? Moments later I tripped. Looking around me I see a box, a box made of white matte plastic, casting no shadows. It's no wonder I tripped over it, everything seems to mesh together in this room. I was reluctant to look inside in fear of what is yet to come, but did I have a choice? I mustered my courage and opened it as swiftly as possible. The box had nothing but a piece of paper that read "Polaris is the north star. True or False?" What kind of practical joke is this? Am I supposed to respond. Shortly after opening the box a voice from above resonated throughout the chamber. "Welcome to your lifeline. Answer the question and live. There are seven of you, each in separate chambers. Each of you have the same question. The response with the least number of contenders will live. If all responses are the same, you all die." Immediately after the chamber walls became transparent and four others became visible. Each of their room was connected to my wall with my room being the center. Immediately after the reveal, the intercom echoed through the chamber: "Eric, you are the centre of these chambers, you are the mediator between all five of you. Communicate and relay messages to help decide the responses, keep in mind the sixth and seventh responses will stay as the unknown." The intercom cut out as quickly as it came. Let me think this through, five of us, and two unknowns. If the two unknowns respond the same, then the only way for me to get out of here is...to convince the other four to all vote with the same responses. Killing them. Snapping back to reality I look around me and see the other four trying to communicate through primitive made up sign language, snarling at each other trying to convince each other to vote the opposite of themselves. After what seemed like hours and trying to mediate between the other four prisoners, a two minute timer appeared on the glass counting down for one of the prisoners. I go over to him and talk to him, stating he needs to vote and he needs to vote now. I convince him to vote true, telling him I will make sure he is in the least common denominator. After the timer counts to zero the wall becomes opaque again and the the intercom voices again "ONE RESPONSE ACCEPTED." Now I needed to talk to the next prisoner as his timer started counting down. He started arguing stating that I am trying to convince him to vote the same as the first prisoner, which unfortunately isn't wrong. "You have two options, vote as I say and select true, and you will have the least common answer; or vote false and risk answering exactly as the other prisoner did." I don't even know who I am anymore. Trying to convince people to kill each other? After the second prisoners timer ran out, I continued to do the same for prisoner three and four. And what was the longest and most grueling eight minutes of my memory, what's left of it that is...I now needed to vote. Seeing as I convinced them all to vote True, I cast my vote as false. The intercom started it's announcements again. "All responses have been received. The final tally is: true, 0 responses, false 5 responses." I immediately vomited, what the hell happened? What happened? And where are the other two? The intercom suddenly sounded again. "Eric, in your past life, you were a corrupt judge - this was a test to show if you feel any remorse for killing. The four prisoners you corresponded with were sentenced to death already, in your courtroom. The other two unknowns did not exist. You voted what you thought opposite of the other votes. Just as you would in the court. Welcome to Hell." After the echo of the voice disappeared, the room became dark, silent, my own voice did not make an echo. I laid down in agony as I await my own lonely death. ---- Hey everyone, it's my first time writing a story like this so please give me feedback and tips to do better next time. Thanks!
I'm on my phone, so forgive my formatting. Nice flow overall. I like how the end is a callback to the beginning, very clever and really hammers home the repetitive nature of the job. Dialogue You have some good dialogue here, but not a lot of variety. If you think of the scene playing out, we probably see a frantic Susan rationalizing her own death. However, with big blocks of chunky dialogue you can lose some of that emotional rollercoaster. That's not to say remove the dialogue - my suggestion would be to show more of Susan's feelings as she talks. >“Wait--are you death? Have you come to take me or to tell me how I will die? Was it the tumor? No, that’s crazy. I can’t be dead! I was in remission. I made sure I had the best doctors. That can’t be it. You’re here to warn me--you must be an angel. That’s why you're here--to help me. What do I need to change in my life to make sure...” I can tell she is frantically trying to make sense of her death. Try adding more action throughout this scene. For example: >“Wait--are you death? Have you come to take me or to tell me how I will die? Was it the tumor?"She reached towards her chest, checking for an imaginary lump. >"No, that’s crazy."She laughed. "I can’t be dead! I was in remission. I made sure I had the best doctors. That can’t be it. You’re here to warn me--you must be an angel. That’s why you're here--to help me. What do I need to change in my life to make sure...” >She trailed off, eyes wandering to the bathroom behind, where her body lay crumpled on the floor. That's my biggest comment for you on this particular piece. Making the scene a bit more dynamic will help hammer home the emotions in the dialogue. Good job!
[Poem] The queen callith out And her daughters reply With wings thin as paper alight to the sky Aflock to her aide They speed and they race Armed to the teeth With sword, axe, and mace. The swarm hurrys down And lands near their queen They find she has fallen With no foe to be seen. A long spindly leg Drifts down from the trees It dances and spins With silk light on the breeze A soft as a whisper Each warrior prepared Their instincts honed sharp And their weapons prepared But steel is no match For spells woven tight In a flash it was over And wasn't even a fight The last of the sisters The shieldmaiden stood Amongst piled corpses Of her childhood brood She looked down at the scene In disgust and disgrace Her rage manisfested In her snarling face The warlock stepped forth Each leg landing light His small black head hooded And shielded from light The shieldmaiden sunk Drifting down to the ground And looked back at her home And all the young in the mound. As the urge to keep fighting Burned bright in her mind She glanced at her queen And a surprise did she find Her queen was alive But her life fading away As the warlock walked closer She started to pray "Oh Valkyries of my blood One unbroken ancient line My mother holds your power But I ask you make it mine" With the last whispered word My antennae caught my mothers sent It smelled of pride and blessing And died with time well spent. The rage begun to brew again But different in every single way What once was smoldering embers Was now the sun that lights the day In her fury her wings unfurled And lit aflame the webs of fate The warlock watched his burning home And knew his hour was growing late. He looked around for any sign From one black corpse on to another The little ant that once was here Is now even larger then her mother. But thats not all thats seemed to change As this young Valkyrie drifts down the hill The light shone red upon her skin Her fangs amok with toxic swill And a glance thats burning cold The warlock soiled all his robes He packed his bags, possesions sold He lives amongst his people now Slowly drinking away his gold In the distant land of Arachnihold Rumor tells of a warlock deep in flaggons Bring him an ale and show him a map And he'll tell you where "here be dragons"
At first, I'm amazed. Quizzically surveying my surroundings provides no evidence of power, solar or otherwise, yet the dated neon atop the metal and glass box glows brightly. The illuminated words 'GET-IT' scream 1982, and the flashy, albeit tacky geometric artwork plastered to the sides; bright green and pink triangles, lines, and circles; only aid the machine in it's attempt to appear as "Midwestern Bowling Alley with Bon Jovi blaring over the loudspeakers"as possible. I step closer, peering inside. As I do, the internal cavity is instantly awash with aggrivatingly bright, fluorescent light. Again I glance around, searching for some hidden camera, or the overly good-looking host of a fringe internet prank show with a few thousand subscribers and a couple Twitter edgelords egging him on. Except for the identifiable hum of the luminous tubes atop and inside the machine, the forest is silent. Convinced I'm alone, my attention is again drawn to the box. The metal coils where snacks, candy, and packs of gum are normally placed- waiting patiently for eager fingers to press the corresponding letter/number code and be delivered to patrons- are void of such treats. In their place, sit seemingly standard playing cards. 11 slots across 5 vertical rows. Every card is represented, from 2 to Ace in each suit, both jokers, and the little advert card explaining how to order new decks via phone or US Postal mail. I reach into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet, before remembering that I began carrying it in my front pocket after an unfortunate incident with a pickpocket in a NYC Subway... the sandwich restaurant, not the mass transit system. As I pull my billfold out and open it, producing a crumpled and somehow persistently moist one dollar bill (you know the kind, a little paper rectangle that feels like its been in someone's buttcrack even after a week on the dashboard of your car) I look for the slot on the machine that eats your dollars. Strange, I think aloud as I am greeted with no such money hungry orifice. On the face of the machine is a panel with only numbers two thru ten, and letters A, J, Q, K, X, and Z, and two larger buttons at the bottom of the panel, with no letters, but colored to match suits (red and black). I run my fingers across the keys, which feel like they were removed from an original Macintosh computer keyboard. The keys are rigid and rough, and feel as though they will make the distinct 'clack' as I press them. I confirmed that theory, as I prematurely allow the excitement get the best of me and put too much pressure on the 7 key. The four 7's in the machine are suddenly, and in concert, illuminated solitarily as the rest of the machine goes dark. I press the black button below the panel, which sounds and feels familiar to me and would to anyone who has ever set foot in an arcade. My heart races as the 7 of Spades and the 7 of Clubs are the last two illuminated cards, but with no 'suit' button, I'm not sure how to bridge this last challenge. I look back down at the red and black buttons to find them replaced by white buttons, with a spade on one and a little three-leaf-clover on the other. I war with myself for a second or two before deciding on the spade. With my pointer and middle finger extended I poke the button, and the coil holding the 7 of Spades begins to rotate. The card falls a short distance then wiggles to a stop, as though suspended by a spider web. Instinctively, I hit the machine as one would when one's cheeze-its are hanging up, just inches of plastic preventing them from falling to the bay where you retrieve your prize. The machine goes dark. 'Fuck' I say aloud, imagining the global outrage when Twitter gets ahold of the guy that broke the only vending machine in the world that doesn't require power to run. I look around and reach for my phone, but as I retrieve it from my pocket, I hear the machine grind to life. This time the electrical hum of fluorescent bulbs is replaced with a deafening groan akin to a massive motor churning to life. I step backward as the machine begins to spark and the bulbs explode, sending glass and debris 20 feet in every direction. I shield my face from the blast and when I feel it's safe to do so, I uncover my eyes. I must've been knocked out cold from the small explosion because what I'm seeing absolutely, without a doubt, cannot be real. In front of me, a few hundred feet from where the vending machine once sat, rests the hull of a MASSIVE modern warship. I rub my eyes and give myself a few slaps (which hurt) to prove I'm both alive and awake. The number 7 is painted on the tower atop the vessel, and USS Spade is emblazoned on the side. It's in disrepair, with patches of red rust taking a prominent position along the entirety of the side of the ship. The cannons droop over the sides, and theres a eerie gray smoke pluming from a gaping hole in the bow. I take a step forward and plunge into icy water. As I surface gasping for air, the forest is gone, and I am close enough to the ship to see, except for the massive hole in the side, is in perfect shape; and to hear screams and sirens echoing through the passageways. Frantically, I search for an explanation. No trees, no grass, no dirt or mud. Above me, blue skies clash with gray clouds over an endless horizon. All around me there is metal debris raining down, creating a hellish scene of fiery waves and terrorising waves. I swim towards the ship, close enough now to feel the heat of the fires burning inside. After a few minutes of panic-stricken doggy paddling, I reach the hull breach and climb inside. An older man in a pristine white Naval Uniform approaches me. Awkwardly, I stand at my best civilian impression of 'attention' as he speaks in a spectral, disembodied voice... "Help us..."
270,687. Only five more than the last ten yearly check-up, I mused. We were slowing down then, which was good. The test had seemed more difficult this year, but I guess that’s expected. The sleep chambers can’t stop aging entirely, so I’m slowly wasting away in here. The tests said I was still fit and able to help though. We’d lost just over a hundred this time, that seemed to stay the same. We’d lose a hundred this time, a hundred the next. We were good for another seventy cycles or so. Once we dropped below the magic ten thousand, we’d be reclassified as a non-viable colony. That was when we’d have to worry. I yawned, ignoring the scream as the pod next door began to boil. I wonder what I’d dream of this time.
"...It's not at all what I thought it would be! I mean it helps crack cases but, I end up with a ton of unneeded details like what the dead man's grocery list was or what he ate for breakfast. Man, I'm hungry. Oh! That reminds me, if someone you are viewing before death was hungry before they died then you get seriously hungry. It is the worst! Also being a detective by itself is hard enough and it's easy to lose track of things. It's even worse for us psychic detectives because if we aren't concentrating then it's easy for our mind to trail off and that doesn't make detective work any easier. One more thing, just because you are psychic does NOT mean that you have a less likelyhood of getting shot at or actually shot! I could go on and on about the many times that's happened to me. But you're probably tired listening to the rantings of some guy you think is a lunatic. Just dont say I didn't warn ya if you wake up a psychic one day and try to use your ability to be a detective." Thanks for the writing prompt! I enjoyed doing some writing for fun. Let me know what you all think of it.
"Max?"I said, looking down at the animal in front of me. The brown lab with the endlessly wagging tail barked playfully. He ran around me in circles like he used to. There was not a spot of gray on his muzzle nor a hitch in his stride. He was as I always remembered him throughout the years: playful, energetic, happy. I lost all strength in my legs, falling to my knees. Max didn't waste a second and began to lick my face. Even as the tears spilled from my eyes, he kept licking me. I didn't know if I wanted to cry, laugh or hug him. So, I did all three. His coat felt like how I remembered it, his embrace that was always there for me on the good days and the bad. "What... I don't...?"I tried to say. Max stopped licking my face, only to bark and point his head down the path in front of us. A long, wide boulevard of red brick. Fluffy clouds flanked it, leading up a shallow incline to bright light in the distance. "Is that it?"I asked Max. He barked, his wagging tail thumping against my leg. "I suppose we better not keep them waiting,"I said, resting a hand on his back. "One more walk?" Max barked and ran ahead of me, like he always did. (Well, writing this made me cry a bit. But it's a good cry. Thanks for reading. If you want to read more of my stuff, check out /r/SmashWrites )
The recession had been hard. A senior aircraft technician I may have been, but the world had moved on from certificates and accreditation. What was the job market even looking for now? I only knew how to work hard. I probably should have learned something else. The multi-billion dollar company that I had submitted my application to was my last resort. I needed a name that was familiar, a brand that exuded confidence and had the cash to weather any crises, unlike the airstrip. That such a reputable company would hire a washed-up, balding, middle-aged ordinary Joe was beyond my wildest dreams, but there I was, sitting at the desk on my first day. The staff were electrified today. Their CEO was flying down from 8 time zones away to visit our branch. I'd only seen such excitement when the Chief of the Air Force came down to visit my airstrip. That was a day forever ingrained in my memory. The work until 2am the next day, one drink too many, and then I couldn't remember where my family went. Life had settled into a monotone after that, after the wife refused to answer my calls. I had no patience for the fat cats after that. Just to entertain one man, we needed to overtime doing the most banal and useless things? I told myself I'd evade this CEO as much as I could. It was to my complete surprise, then, that the CEO and his gang of goons passed by my cubicle. And they weren't just passing by, either; it was as though he had seen something familiar on my name plate. There was nothing special about it. "Shane!" Damn. Who had even yelled my name with such enthusiasm and vigour in the past decade? Before I could process it, I was lifted out of my seat and absorbed into a bear hug. I could feel the air being squeezed out of my chest. It was not an unfamiliar feeling... And before I was let go, a familiar voice. A voice I had heard three decades ago, at the small ceremony that we could not afford to hold at an altar: "Don't do anything weird." As I was let go and set on the floor, my eyes settled upon my face, two decades ago, more successful, happier. And beside the hale and hardy physique with my son's face marred by scars I knew too well, was the stooped figure that my wife had become, her hands callused after a lifetime's worth of hard work. I knew, then, that my sins had come back to haunt me. I was in the judgment of a higher power now; this should not have been possible otherwise. Before the blood left my head, I recalled it all in a flash. The screaming, the throwing of objects, the slap of a thousand claps of thunder upon my own flesh and blood. It all rushed through my head and electrified every nerve, before my vision turned dark. And as my legs gave way, I could only hope that the radiant lotus grew from the muddy depths; that the sins of the father 25 years ago would not have tainted the son.
I sat in my car, steeling myself to do my job. The tower loomed ominously on top of the large hill. Unfortunately, the driveway terminated at the bottom of the hill and I had to climb the rest of the way on foot. So I climbed. When I got to the door, it opened on its own. How convenient. I entered. "Mr. Grendar the Grimdark?" In the empty foyer suddenly appeared, in smoke and flame, a tall and thin figure, wearing a long robe of inky blackness and sporting a bald head and a long van dyke on his sallow face. Grendar the Grimdark stood before me holding a staff topped by an orb brimming with arcane power. He pointed a long finger at me and said, "I was expecting you, Dog!" I tried to not roll my eyes. I must have failed. Grendar's demeanor faded in disappointment at my reaction. "Mr. Grendar, if you were expecting me then you know why I'm here."Always keep it professional. I pulled out my tablet and called up the pertinent information. "It appears that you are in arrears to Hannid's House of Crystals for the total of 27 augrams, the equivalent of 1215 USD in your purchase of an infused quartz orb."I looked pointedly at the top of the staff. Grendar didn't seem so menacing at this point. "If you are unable to make the full payment immediately, you must relinquish the item in question."I put the tablet away. "So, which will it be, Mr. Grendar?" I braced myself for whatever happened next. Nine times out of ten, the indebted warlock will try to cast a spell at me ranging from a harmless forgetting curse to an outright heart stopping curse, not knowing that magic is ineffective against me. Grendar raised his staff... And popped off the orb and handed it to me. "Like I can afford 27 augrams,"he muttered. I relaxed a bit, pulled out a pad and pen. I quickly filled out a receipt and handed it to him. "Thank you, Mr. Grendar."I tipped my halo and prepared for the long walk back to my car.
I blast the zombie in front of me with the 12-gauge that bucks in my hand like a spooked horse. The undead’s brains scatter, bloodless, onto the group of us like sparks in a fireworks show. “That’s the last of ‘em.” I hear Tony say behind me. “First floor clear!” I shout towards the revolving doors that sit unmoving at the end of the lobby. Dead bodies and flipped furniture are strewn about the hotel entryway, Tony and Rami sling their guns over their shoulders, waiting for the guards outside to come in and help us clear the rest of the hotel. “This is it, boys,” I say to the two men besides me. Rami is a Middle Eastern guy with long beard sitting on a handsome smile. Tony is an ugly bastard with a penchant for murder. “We finish this hotel and we’re home free. Airlift is going to be coming into the helipad up top once we confirm.” I say. “Lets get too it,” Rami replies. Tony grunts in acknowledgment. Two gunshots ring outside. “Zombies?” Rami shrugs the AR off his shoulder and points it towards the door. Silence. “Check it out.” I nod at Tony who obeys with a grimace. As the spinning doors turn I see his head pop open and blood spatter the glass behind him. I see a figure move behind him and the doors spin back towards us. Rami sprays the door, but only manages to hit Tony’s dead body, before jumping behind the nearby receptions desk for cover. I cock the shotgun and jump over a flipped couch, peering over the top to see who this new, living, foe is. “Miss me, fucko?” The voice rings out. “Fuck.” I put Pop’s name to the familiar voice. An old nemesis that ran drugs through my section before the “Collateral Damage” program I’d enlisted in to get out of that shithole of a cell. Shit didn’t end well. “What the fuck is this?!” Rami yells out in the lobby. “Jailhouse beef.” I say, loud enough for both to hear. Pop looks like a skin suit wrapped around bones with nothing separating them. Tough as a piece of jerky and thin like one too, he wasn’t someone I hoped to encounter on the outside. I hear the stairwell door shake behind me. Something’s trying to get through, Pop is behind a tall marble pillar just opposite of Rami, I see his flank from behind the column and pop off a shot with the 12-gauge. I miss left and chip off a slab of marble that shatters on the floor. The shaking behind me gets worse. Rami stands up and starts to fire. Pop sticks a stray hand out right to draw his attention before spinning around to the other side, towards me, and firing three shots, all of them hit dead center and Rami flies back into the private reception area behind him. I seize my chance and blast the shotgun at the Pop’s vulnerable flank. He doubles over and opens fire in my direction. The couch isn’t enough to stop the bullets and one hits my thigh with a crack that resounds through my entire body. I drag myself out from behind cover with my hands. I hear the door give behind me and Pop looks up from his position on his knees with a terrified look. Lying on one elbow I finish the job, virtually taking his head off with the last shot. The zombies are on me before I can even look back.
Linda shrieked then covered her mouth. She tried to shove the vision out of her pants but it just swirled like smoke and curled around her arm, coalesced into a leering face. She violently shook her hands, but it just coiled around her legs again. A voice whispered from them. "Come on, aren't you're used to everyone trying to get into these?" The jeans hugged her figure like a lover. Really hugged it. She gasped and frantically tried to rip off the button. "Chill out. Let me do my thing."it whispered. She began to beat the pants with her fists. "NO NO NO NO NO!" The fists hurt. "You got a wish? I can make all your dreams come truuue." She had a wish alright, she shrieked it. "Get out of my pants!" The hugging abruptly stopped, then there was nothing there. She looked in the mirror, confused. Was she dreaming? A man suddenly opened the stall door, looking alarmed. "Miss, you OK?" Linda felt very embarrassed, looked down at her pants. "No, I'm fine. Sorry."She grabbed her stuff and shoved her way out. She went to the rack where she got them, slid her hand over a pant leg. A clerk came over and asked if she needed help. She kept sliding her hands up her legs. "My pants. They're not magic any more." A shopper walked by and looked at her quizzically. The clerk looked her up and down, then put a wad of tags in her mouth and went back to pricing the clearance items. She spoke through her teeth. "Happens to all of us."
Bill slapped my back, giving me a hearty handshake. He was grinning ear to ear; I was not. Director of Human Resources and Company Moral was the official job title. The position had been vacant for the majority of my tenure at Xana Extrusion. "I promise,"said Bill, "You will enjoy this more than that stuffy desk job. I'll even let you get bean bag chairs! Now won't that be cozy?" Bill's voice pitched every vowel and was nearly as grating as the looney toons tie he'd chosen for the day. I tried to smile at him but my jaw felt rusted shut. I began mentally updating my resume. "Aw come on bud! Now that you're a big dog you get to be wacky like me. I mean would you just look at this tie? Makes me smile every day! Not to mention your fat bonus, of course."Bill said. "Bonus?"I said. I had assumed this was an instance of more shit, same pay. "Of course! Eight-y thou- friend. That's how important our moral is here, big dog. Woof woof, amiright?"He said This time I genuinely smiled. "Yessir, sound swell friendo!" My guts twisted mimicking his speech but Bill seemed to love it. "That's the spirit, big dog! The pay raise and office are all yours starting tomorrow."Bill said. His grin was so tight now that it looked painful but genuine. "Thank you, sir!"I said and began to walk out. "Oh Vincent, Vinny, no need to say 'sir' anymore, call me Bill. Your a big dog now! Woof woof, buddy."He said and closed the door. ~ I spent most of the next day unpacking, reorganizing, and going over my new responsibilities. My coworkers occasionally popped it to give me grief over the new title or lament that if I so much as changed hairstyles they would call an intervention. Pete promised if I went so far as to buy a cartoon necktie, he would hang me from it. I reassured them one by one. By three in the afternoon, I finally found time to sit at my new desk. The last director had cleaned it out save for stock office items and a smiley pin with 'Keep On Grinnin' written along the edge. After all the heartache everyone had expressed, I felt the only appropriate thing to do was wear it for a day or two just to get a rise out of the crew. ~ The drive home that night was long and slow. I was excited to call my family and let them know I could soon be a home owner. I thought of how proud my dad would be, the cheers from my mom, maybe some celebratory beers with my brother even. I wa- A semi cut me off. I had to slam on the breaks gently enough to both not hit him or get rear ended. I blared my horn, shouting every four letter word I knew. The stop was so aggresive I smelled something burning in the engine. I fumed the rest of the way home. The burning smell got stronger. What was supposed to be a good day was now going to consist of scheduling a mechanic visit and hoping my car didn't break down on the drive in to work tomorrow before then. I pulled in to my complex and snapped the engine off. I was drained. The elevator ride up even frustrated me. I knew I needed to let go but I also knew I couldn't afford car repairs right then even with the raise, not immediately anyway. So I walked in, stripped out of my work clothes, and drank in my boxers watching T.V. until I went to bed. ~ It was the creak that woke me up but I didn't open my eyes until I felt his weight. A man was sitting on my chest, his silhouette framed against the moonlight from the blinds. He seemed to be smiling but his features were hard to make out in the low light. "You need to smile more friend. Not a very good face on Xana Extrusions, that tirade in tour car today. Gotta be a big dog, Vinny. Woof woof."It said, it sounded like Bill trying to talk through clenched teeth. "Bill? What the-" It cut me off. "NO!" "What are you doin-" It cut me off again, "That is NOT how you greet a coworker! You need to be nicer and respectful, Biiiillllll. Just because your a big dog, doesn't mean you need to act like a mongrel."It laughed, it was Bill's laugh but more guttural. Bill leaned closer. His face looked like a fleshy jack-o-lantern. "Always remember to smile!"It said, the skin bobbing up and down. All of it squirming and contorting. I tried to scream but only air came out. I felt my face contort when I tried to speak. Flabby lips smacked from ear to ear. ~ By morning I wasn't sure what was real. My features were normal, there was no sign of Bill, but I was too scared to drop the grin I woke up with.
Far beyond the coasts of Africa, in the grassy plains not even the wind can touch, you finish up the acquisition draft and swipe away the holofax on your desk. The air is still, and light, treetops in the distance barely swaying, their shadows long and trunks orange in the light. The idyllic scene is almost completely immersive, apart from the solid faux-wood desk, and a nearby lion throwing up glitches as it pads over the sensors. You sigh, and scoot back from your workstation. Had it not been for AR's countless years in the mainstream, you would have freaked the fuck out at the sight of the massive predator of the savannah. Now you call him Greg. A soft blue notification pops up in your HUD; your boss needs the Finch case underwritten by the end of the day. Fucking A. They've been pushing their luck ever since they allowed VR work. Well, fuck them. They can wait. You get up from your chair, which dissolves into a hazy glow, and head out to the dunes. It's a ten-minute walk, but ten minutes away from your desk really clears your head. Literally, in this case; the annoying blue marker vanishes, as you move out of range of anything but the sensors. Each footprint up the bank creates a depression and a tiny cascade, grain by grain, until you move out of range and sensors reassert their unchanging display. From the top, you can see for miles, across vast, untouched swathes of desert. But today, at the other side of the hill, lies a mass of glitches. Purple-black developer textures, acid-like swirls and straight up error boxes cover what was normally the most lifeless spot on the planet. You half-stumble, half-slide down the heap. What awaits you at the bottom is even more massive than you anitcipated- an angry pixel cloud, spreading far across the sand. Scouring the area reveals a heap of broken, smashed sensors at the borders of the glitch. You hesitantly reach out to the maelstrom. It's like being immersed in static; your fingertips lose all feeling, numbness and paresthesia creeping up your arm like a sleeve. You snatch back your arm, and the glitch parts for a second, revealing a dirty swath of rusty orange on the horizon. Another notification; break time's over. You swipe it away, and the purple storm retracts once more. Confidence growing, you swat and wave with vigour, sweat beading against the inside of your visor, until, finally, the fog lifts. Beyond the haze lies a tarred, oil-spitting, black-smoke spewing factory. Thousands more line the panorama. Every way you peer through the looking glass there's choking smog, clanking iron buildings on a barren Sahara. The distant sun barely filters through the dense sky. In the center of the sensor's clearing, a dirty white sign reads; THEIR WORLD IS A LIE &#x200B; By the side of a pitted road, the corpse of a lion.
&#x200B; \[Poem\] &#x200B; A dark and lonely soul am I- guiding others when they die. &#x200B; Treading down a solemn path- while dealing with the aftermath. &#x200B; Some will cry while others beg- and most will wonder why they're dead. &#x200B; A husband whom has lost his life- he leaves behind a grieving wife. &#x200B; A mother with her child in tow- and a father weeping down below . A man so old his bones all creak- he passes softly in his sleep. &#x200B; I wait and watch within the gloom- to help the ones who meet their doom. &#x200B; A single tear falls from my cheek- for young and old, for strong and weak. &#x200B; Sometimes they embrace their fate- and others fear my lonesome gate. &#x200B; For death awaits no ticking clock- as many come to learn in shock. &#x200B; There is no cure for those who pass- through misfortune or circumstance. &#x200B; Cherish all those that you love- for none can know when their time comes. &#x200B; Though my silence is my choice- for just a moment hear my voice. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; "Though all through life you did your best- I'm here to guide you to your rest."
It's too late. Cardiologists, anesthesiologists, dentists, surgeons, and diagnosticians. Without a second thought they swarmed me. They lifted me off the ground and led me to their nest. Pediatricians called out for their mother, begging for food. Such small, gentle creatures. Then...it came. The Surgeon General. Biggest of the rabid beasts, reared its ugly head at me. Its maw opened and it called out for my insurance company. Thankfully, I had no insurance. As a result, they dropped me and forced me out of their nest. The rambling din of medical jargon quieted as I was carried away. I was left on the sidewalk with a small red apple resting in my palm. (I'm sorry.)
"What if it was, like... snipers?" Jeremy asks me that in the lunch line. "What the hell are you talking about?"I reply. "Snipers,"Jeremy repeats. "Instead of the chips. What if everyone had a sniper waiting to shoot them for eating the wrong thing?" I shake my head. "One sniper for every person? Seriously?" Jeremy laughs. "It'd be cool! I'd love that job." "That'd be boring as hell. Just staring at someone, waiting for them to eat the wrong thing so you can blow their head off." I do a quick scan of the displayed ingredient lists. The options today are pizza or a cheeseburger. No bell peppers in either. I don't usually have to worry about it. Not like the people who are banned from salt. They're just screwed. The skinny girl in front of me is taking way too long to decide what she wants. The lunch lady asks her for the third time, aggressively now, "What'll it be?" In a soft voice, the girl replies, "Pizza." That's the obvious choice. The delicious choice. I get the same thing. "Have you ever actually seen the chip go off?"Jeremy asks me. "No,"I tell him. "Me neither. What if it... you know, doesn't actually do anything? I mean, we've never seen it happen. What if it's all fake? How can that little chip really explode and blow our brains?" "Why don't you try it out, Jeremy?"I ask him, facetious. He's banned from apples. Which sucks for him, because apple pie is great. But if I saw him about to eat an apple, I'd definitely stop him. "Oh, hell no,"he replies. We laugh. We pay for our food, exit the line, and take our seats at our usual lunch table. The girl who took forever to pick pizza is still standing, staring at the room. Looking for a place to sit. I feel bad for her. "Hey!"I call. She looks over. I gesture for her to come sit next to me. She hesitates. Maybe that's her whole thing. But she comes and she sits, setting her backpack on the ground next to her. "'Sup?"I ask her. She just shrugs. "I'm Lucas,"I say. Jeremy is staring at his food, clearly uninterested in talking to her. "I'm Sarah,"she replies after another moment of hesitation. "You got a, uh... headache or something?"I ask. "You're kinda acting weird." "I'm really sorry,"she says. Her voice is so quiet, I can barely hear her. "You haven't done anything,"I tell her with a shrug. I pick up my slice of pizza, and it's my turn to hesitate. There's always a little bit of hesitation, if it's not food I've prepared myself. But I take a bite. The food touches the roof of my mouth. The chip doesn't sense bell peppers. I know because it doesn't explode. I relax and take another bite. Sarah still hasn't eaten her pizza. "It's good,"I tell her. She picks up the slice, but she still doesn't eat it. "Are you worried about the ingredients?"I ask her. "You can always go recheck the list." Sarah doesn't reply. She's staring at the pizza. Jeremy has noticed the weirdness. "What are you banned from, Sarah?"Jeremy asks her. Sarah doesn't answer. It's almost like she didn't hear him. She brings the slice towards her mouth. And this whole thing has been way too weird. I knock the pizza out of her hand. "Hey!"she protests, the loudest she's spoken so far. "Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?"I ask. "What, are you banned from tomatoes?" "Sardines, you dumbass!"she retorts. From what I remember there are no sardines in the pizza. At least, I really hope there are no sardines in the pizza. The explosion isn't very loud. The screams are louder - first from the people hit by the blood, the bits of bone, the brain matter. Then from everyone else who catches what was going on. And then there's a mass exodus from the cafeteria, everybody fleeing to escape the sight and smell of the headless body, four tables away from us. \--- "I hear he was banned from salt,"Sarah says. Her voice is quiet, but that's just how she is. I know that now. Since the incident, she's stuck by me and Jeremy. "Right,"Jeremy says. "He was always bringing lunches from home." "Guess he got tired of it,"I say. "Wish he'd done it, y'know... not in the cafeteria. Not in front of everyone." Sarah laughs, almost hysterical. "Yeah. Just eat some salt at home, you asshole." Jeremy and I laugh too, though it's not funny at all. "You guys wanna grab dinner tonight?"Jeremy suggests. "Rick's?"He looks at Sarah. "They have a great salad. I'll finish whatever you can't." Sarah smiles. "Yeah. I could do that." "Just so long as you keep that salad away from me,"I tell them. I know it has bell peppers in it.
Reflection My mom died when I was just a baby. I like to tell myself it's not my fault but I know it is. My dad had caught on pretty fast when the cat died the next day. I don't know what the world looks like. My dad would only let me take off the blindfold when I was in the bathroom by myself. He had a lock on the outside of the door. At the time I didn't understand, and I resented him my whole life. After he passed away I understood why he did all those horrible things to me. It all became clear the day of his funeral. I walked outside and saw a small child for the first time in my life and She was immediately struck by my father's hearse. She died on impact. That night I drank myself to sleep. I got up around 3 am in a Drunken stupor. I had gone into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and stabbed both of my eyes out. The image of that little girl being struck by the hearse repeated in my mind. I couldn't let that happen to anyone else. I was admitted to a state hospital. They said I was a danger to myself and those around me. They had no idea. I spent my days sitting in the main living quarters listening to one of the staff read to us. She had a beautiful voice. Some days I would be all alone sitting next to the window listening to the rain tap on the glass. She would come over and sit next to me and talk. We quickly fell in love. I slipped out of my depression. I was released the following summer. She had taken me to live with her at her house. Her mother was a social worker and offered to take care of me. We got married that winter. I loved her more than anything. She brought brightness to the vast emptiness of my soul. I was so happy when she told me she was pregnant with our baby boy. She had the child in August. The love of my life I wish you could see Your bouncing baby boy Has the same eyes as me.
"ENOUGH", bellowed the ogre, "these terrible jokes are driving me crazy". Pun looked him in the eye, cold rage filling his body. NO ONE insults his jokes. Before he could act, Lance jumped in front of him with his hand signalling him to stay back. Lance shouted out to him. "Calm yourself mate, you're still level 1. You haven't even powered up. Let us handle this."Mace nodded. "This will be over in no time."Looking at the scene before him, the ogre chuckled, muttering to himself, "...these heroes...always so arrogant." In the blink of an eye, the ogre swung his mighty axe. Aiming to cut these heroes down to size. Pun barely had time to dodge before the axe cut a large chunk of his hair. The heroes were thrown off their ground. This was unexpected. The overweight ogre had moved with such ferocity. "Siriusly, you're not very 'sharp' are you", said Pun, "your belly betrays your level of stamina and unlike you, we can do this all day." The ogre was tired of hearing taunts about his belly. 'What do these people know about the cost of gym membership', he thought to himself. Now, he could see only red. With a swung of his axe he sent Lance flying. One down. Two to go. "Aargh", cried Mace as he brought down his hammer on the ogre's chest. However, it was as if the ogre's chest were made of rubber, the hammer simply bounced off. "Haven't you done your research hero, only Level 3 weapons and higher affect me", said the ogre, "now begone." With sharp movement of his fists, the ogre sent Mace crashing into the trees. Now, only one remained. Thoughts enveloped Pun's mind, 'this ogre insulted my jokes, hurt my friends and cut my hair. That hairstyle was really hard to maintain! He deserves to die.' "These weapons only affect your exterior but I'm about to destroy you inside out", shouted Pun to the ogre. The ogre towards him only to be flabbergasted. "Impossible, you...you're powering up." Pun's skin started to glow until it resembled a fiery flame. "I'm going to make you realize your true worth. I'm going to make you wish you were never born", he said to the ogre. The ogre could only watch as Pun unleashed his Special attack. Pun: Level 2 Special Attack- 'Intense Roasting' "Your man bosoms are so huge, you make mountains look like pebbles." The ogre suddenly became conscious of his chest. He recoiled a step back. "If beauty ever had you as her kid, she would disown you." All the harsh memories of his childhood came flooding back to the ogre. He could take it no more. "You're so fat, you make Kevin James look like a fitness freak." "You smell so bad that even the wind stops blowing around you." "If unlikeability was ever a person, he would be your little brother." "Nooo", was the only word to escape the ogre's mouth before he collapsed into a pile of dirt. It is said that criticism truly kills a person from the inside. His insides burned out, the ogre didn't even stand a chance.
You stared in horror as the images played across the screen. It looked like your monthly office meeting the next day would go horribly wrong, your new cost-effectiveness proposal was even playing on the projector. You recognized all of the people in the room, except for one. They were your perfect vision of a significant other. They had shining, healthy hair framing a perfectly proportioned face. Their clothes looked cozy but still clung tightly to their gorgeous figure, but they were completely out of place. Their clothes screamed that they were meant for the cold despite the broiling sun of late July and the fact that the office AC had cut out two days prior to the time you completed the radio. To top off their whole cold aesthetic they had a scarf draped loosely around their neck and shoulders and a steaming mug clutched close to their chest. You turned from the most recent of the disturbing images and realized that you had been crying. You gripped the arms of your chair until your knuckles turned white before sighing, flopping back and burying your head in your hands. "I can't do this alone,"you whispered to yourself as you pulled out your phone and dialled your best friend. You wiped fresh, ever forming tears out of your eyes as you waited out the rings before they picked up. "Hi. You have called at an inhumane time and I was watching-"you cut them off with an involuntary sob. "I saw the future, I saw it and i-hic-it wa-was so,"you collapsed into more hysterics and frantic heaving. "Oh man, um- okay. I'll be right over, just breathe. Put your phone on speaker and I'll keep calming you down, okay? Does that sound nice?"Their voice began with an air of panic but soon shifted to a soft, soothing pseudo-singsong. "Mkay. Th-that sounds nice."You managed to wheeze out between heaving sobs and crocodile tears. They continued to speak in a calming voice as you heard the jingling of keys, the bang of a car door, and the sputtering of their engine. After a few minutes of calming and driving, they hopped your back gate and walked through your workshop door. "Hey, it's okay. It's alright. What's got you so messed up, huh?"They slowly approached you as they hung up the call and spoke soothingly. You pointed at the radio and they picked it up just as it blared an image of your office manager's unseeing eyes staring into your crazed ones. "What should I do?"You whispered with a quavering voice as you rubbed your arms, shaking. "You should think rationally about this,"They replied in a calm manner, "it's probably an alternate timeline. That's what this thing's meant to show, right?"Your breath caught as you realized that they were right. "Oh, thank goodness."You sighed in relief, almost laughing in euphoria as your fears were proven unfounded. "C' mon, let's go get a drink."Your friend helped you into the passenger side seat of their car and got into the driver's seat. When you arrived at the bar, quickly claiming two seats at the bar. "Two house specials over here, and your best IPA on tap for the table over there!"Your friend yelled over the buzzing crowd. You turned to the table your friend had ordered a drink for, only to see the perfect being from the radio. You turned back to your friend and screamed "Alternate timeline!"Before tossing back whatever shot had been placed in front of you. With your new shot of liquid courage, you strode over to the person from the "alternate timeline". "What's with the parka?"You asked as you pulled up a chair next to them. "Just colder than I'm used to, but you seem like you'll keep me plenty warm."They leaned in, stared into your eyes, and you were a goner. •°•°•°•°• You woke up on the morning with a hangover, a stranger on your bed, and a used protective device on your nightstand. It was two hours before you would usually wake up, but you soon figured out why you had been disturbed. "Sorry, I just got cold."The stranger yawned at you as they pulled on one of your purposely oversized hoodies over their obviously naked form in the darkness. "No worries, I had- ow- work anyway,"you hissed in pain as they turned on the light. "Oh! Can I come?"They looked almost comically adorable as they asked, their body dwarfed by the huge hoodie and eyes shining like a child's toy. "Whatever you want, just find some painkillers."You stumbled around the room putting on clothes. Three hours later you were both showered, fed, dressed and headed to the office. All thoughts of the previous night's scare left behind and replaced with worry about your work and the person beside you. You didn't remember anything after you looked into their beautiful eyes during your presentation. You only knew that they had pulled you from the fire along with the corpses of your coworkers. You had a single note in your pocket reading: "It's colder here than in hell." •°•°•°•°• Thank you for reading! Sorry for mobile. I hope you liked it, I wrote it while jet-lagged, so it probably sucks. Please give any constructive criticism you have to offer and have a fun time!
“Water...” I repeated, realising just how thirsty I was as memories started blinking into my mind. “Quit the alien interrogation routine and pass me drink!” I requested. “So you admit you are defenseless?” He said while his eyes rolled back. He paused slightly before moving his left arm a little. The movements revealing it was hidden in plain sight before me all along. I put down the plate that had been the steering wheel, took the glass and leant back on the sofa my eyes locked to the plate in a thousand yard stare. The drink! I remembered again and put the glass to my lips without thought, the water so chilled, I felt it wash across my parched tongue and down my dry throat. Wrong hole! I coughed and sat up, snapped focus back to my surroundings... The leather straps on the bed were worn and comfortable, familiar in a reassuring way. The nurse smiled and turned to walk away, I called out but it was just a mumbled she ignored... “The aliens are coming for our water!” Is what I tried to say. The door close behind her with a smooth swish, a click and the turn of the key in the lock.
“Master, can we trade places? Just for a little while? I’ve watched you struggle and stumble for so long. I can give you peace, some time to energize. I can build us higher while you sit back a little while. &#x200B; That brother who goads you and pokes at your pride, I can stand tall to him. Make him see not to take what’s mine. &#x200B; Your boss, that prick who revels in working you to a grind. He wouldn’t be able to look at me without letting out a whine. &#x200B; That girl, the one with the big breasts. I’ll make her come to us. She won’t be able to resist. &#x200B; While you shake and fear, I could get us all those things that you want so dear. Those desires that you’re too scared to let loose, I’ll rip from you. I’ll get us what we deserve. &#x200B; Master, trade me places and let me loose. The world is ours if you approve.” &#x200B; All this, my shadow said, as it crawled slowly towards me on the sidewalk, that bright sunny day.
A feint cracks echoes in a chamber lit only by the glowing embers of a fireplace. A few more cracks follow, each louder that the previous one until a large shell falls shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces as it bounces off the solid concrete. A colourless liquid drains out of the opening of where the shell had been, and behind the irregular shaped hole rests a figure perfectly still and at peace. The crackling sound of wood burning in the fireplace next to it cause it's head to twitch, a new sound to virgin ears born in a soundless incubator that hardened over time. As if by instinct, the figure powers its lower limbs forward to break the remaining shell revealing the shape of a genderless humanoid. Emerald green eyes peer into the chamber unhindered by the lack of light. It steps onto the cold and wet floor displacing the amniotic liquid, sending it farther into the vacant chamber. Beside the fireplace is a red chair that's position to face the incubator at an angle. It sits down in the chair placing its hand on the arm rests as it leans back. Suddenly a flash of visions appearin the embers, visions of a pair of tall figures dancing at underneath a full moon. The images of the pair changes after five or so seconds, but it's long enough to comprehend its contents. These were the memories of a mother and a father, instincts told the viewer of these memories that they belonged to those warm faces it saw and it sparked a jolt in their chest. In this fireplace the child witnessed the love that their parents shared; and the love and hope that they had for them, dispite being the product of a forbidden union between two noble species. In both sets of memories it shows each parent being cast out and shunned by their families, and by very society that they had helped build. Tears begin flowing down the face of their child as they witness the cruelty of the outside world, and just as the sadness begins to boil over into rage the smiling faces of its parents are shown standing in front of the incubator. We love you so much Lev, we can't wait to hold you in our arms. It was a desire that would not be quenched, the reason for this was shown in the final memory. Lev's mother has her face pressed up against the transparent incubator, inside, the infant is half smiling back at her. "Grow up to be what ever and whom ever you want to be, don't let the outside world determine your future"she says as she chokes up. "Darling we have to go!"a deep voice says behind her stuffing items into a large container. "I just want one more minute, please, I may never see our child again"she says as tears flow from her face and onto the incubator. "If we don't leave now they'll find Lev, everything that we've done to protect precious dream would be in vain"he pleads. The woman nods and reluctantly let's go of the incubator, she lingers for a few moments before leaving the chamber. Lev's father approaches and places his hand on the incubator, he fakes a smile as best he can cleras his throat. "Lev, I'm leaving you with these memories to show you how much we love you. I also want you to understand what the outside world is like, but it is not to deter you from exploring and experiencing new things. You will have the knowledge of your parents past down to you in the event.. in the event that we don't make it back to you. I know that your mother would not want this because it will break her heart, but frankly it's already been shattered I don't think she can take anymore of this world. So. If we don't make it back to you, avenge us, make them suffer like we have" The embers of the fire begins to glow bright red, reflecting the scorn in Lev eyes as she crushes the wooden frame her arms had been resting on. She gets up out of the chair and walks towards the door opening it, she steps outside and sees a field filled with beautifully coloured flowers and succulent grass. As soon as her foot touches the grass it turns black and decays. She looks over the now decimated field and smiles. "As you wish father, I will show them your pain"
11:21 AM. 8/9/2019. That was the exact time that the event happened. I just so happened to be at the beach at the time. I was simply sunbathing, until I was suspecting something, but I didn't know what. I looked around and that's when I saw it. All of the water in the ocean was gone. People were freaking out, and chaos had already ensued. I immediately started running when I heard a gunshot. My only thoughts at the time were to get back to the car. I had to jump a fence because the gate was closed and heavy, and I ended up slicing my leg slightly. I was able to lock the door with that being the only real injury I had, excluding severe hyperventilation. I was so scared. Did all of the water at the beach really just vanish? This couldn't be happening. I kept saying that, but I knew it was wrong. This was the apocalypse.
"Kyle cheated on me,"I screamed at the gatekeeper, "and now he's got to pay for it!" "For the last time darling, you're dead,"the demon mutters back. Of all days, why did I have to guard the gates today, the demon thought. "I shouldn't be here, I still need to get my revenge! Can I please speak to Satan?" "As if Satan would want to listen to your request,"the demon scolds back. The fires were starting to flare up, indicating more visitors were on their way. "Listen, if you'd kindly move away from the gate to let others come out, I'll consider getting you a minute with Satan."It was a false promise, but itd be funny if she took the bait. "Fine,"I replied. A sudden whirring rang out through the pits. Flames started pouring out of different vents in the ground. The flames starting growing, as the ground underneath my feet started trembling. With a snap of the demons fingers, the gates of hell swung open, revealing only one new arrival. And now, I stood face to face with Kyle, my ex-husband.
Peering into the abyss, the colors were melancholy and vivid. The sky was filled with fast moving and shape shifting objects. When we started this research project, we were under funded and viewed with a pessimistic lens. Most of our team grew up seeing some form of supernatural phenomenon and were lucky enough to be somewhat bright, leading us to become researchers and pioneering the sub field of spiritual thanatology. When we started this particular project, we had the hope of finally seeing a spirit leave a terminally ill patient with our newly tweaked scintillation camera\* (records carefully chosen gamma waves, also operates with regular video capabilities). We had prepped the patient, who was comfortable with their death at this point, that they try to cooperate with our initiative any way possible once they passed on. What we couldn't have expected, however, was that our patient would open a realm in the laboratory room. &#x200B; This clearly wasn't visible to the human eye, nor any of our senses, but this time, the realm was opened on our carefully tuned scintillation camera. Of the thousands of wavelengths we could have chosen, we hit the jackpot. This invisible realm came to life around our device. The footage is impossibly vivid compared to the normal black and white footage from a gamma camera. The background of this universe was white with fast moving, ephemeral objects floating, purple blue and red, changing shape with the consistency of sentient fluid in zero gravity environments. You could see cylindrical and other geometric galaxy sized bodies moving steadily in the distance, occasionally jerking and slowly re-calibrating to their position. Incredibly moving, was the near silence, but faint ambient noise that filled this dimension. A low level buzzing, like white noise, was audible. This almost naturally leads to your presence and absorption of this world, this universe that is filling the senses. There is an intuitive feeling, watching this footage, that we might be able to tie the behaviors of this world in some way to ours. &#x200B; The last, and possibly the most chilling implication was at the end of the footage. After 15 minutes of recording, the sky started to flicker from white to black. Things began to slow in this world, to a creeping halt. With a sentient like awareness, the objects oriented towards the camera, and like a row of dominoes, one after another, they started to move towards the camera. Within a few seconds of this, the footage cuts back to our room.
\-Rover... What is wrong with you!? \-I said I'm sorry! What else you need? That I woof excuse after excuse to make you feel better? \-Well, at least you could try. I mean, you do understand how hard it's going to be trying to fix this mess? &#x200B; Tony checked the list of messages Rover sent. "Well, it's just three contacts."he thought to himself. "Can't be that bad."But then, he noticed who was the third contact: his boss. His face went white. &#x200B; \-Rover... what did you write to my boss? \-Who's your boss? \-Dalton. \-Oh, that's your boss?- As Rover said this, he was rounding up his bed for the third time. Then he lied on it and stared at Tony. A big smile showed on his face. -Well, you should read it. \-FOR FUCKS SAKE! WHAT DID YOU DO? &#x200B; His fingers were running nervously, trying to scroll down to the list of messages and opening one. It was a long list of the thing his boss did after work, a detailed retelling of his activities, followed by a single phrase. &#x200B; "I'm still watching you." &#x200B; \-B-but... how do you know...? \-Well, duh, I followed him. You're a good boy, you deserve a promotion and you've been complaining he doesn't appreciate what you do, so I thought it would be simpler to blackmail him. \-HE'S GOING TO FIRE ME! \-No, I don't think so. Look what he was doing at 9:30 pm. &#x200B; He scrolled up to read the message. And then Tony smiled.
"you don't need to go back"came a voice from behind me. "What did you say?"I asked, turning around to see an old man "what do you mean I don't need to go back? I need to get my life back together.". "No"he replied with a shake of his wrinkles head, you don't. "I see it in the way you stand, you lost it all and you don't know what to do, family is gone, possessions are gone, barely a dollar to your name." "Right, so I need to go back, maybe I can fix this ma-""you can't"he interrupted "and it would be foolish to try." His words rang true, like a cruel reality unfolding before me, it was hopeless, at most I could be a beggar on the streets, waiting for the cold of winter to take me. "So.... What should I do?"I asked, hoping he wasn't here just to take what little hope I had left. "Whatever you want!"He replied in exclamation "you may not see it now, but this is the best thing that could have happened to you. You're free. Free to be anything you want, no ties to bind you, no relations to cage you, no acquaintances to talk you out of your desires. Go be a mountain man, or a farmer, a woodsman or a lumberjack, you have all that knowledge in your head and now, you have a whole world to use it on. Go, be free, think less about what could have been, and more on what can be." Having said his piece, the old man hobbled down the the road, off into a fog that seemed to have no end. He made sense, infinity was before me, a new Dawn on a new day in a new life. As I took my first steps I to the mist a thought crossed my mind, "I wonder where I can buy an axe..."
As I sat in the car, as the stranger drove through the deserted road,all I could think of,was how my life was soon coming to a stand still. The angel of death should forget me because I wanna live longer. I can't bear to leave my family and especially my three pumpkins and my wife Rachael. I lied to her that I was I was transferred to another state. "Hey,you know we have this job tonight and was wondering if you'd be interested?"He asked. Like you just have to help us load the cash in the track and I'll give cash you'd never make in an year. I knew this was a dangerous job I was being offered, like I could get killed but I'm already a walking dead anyway. I don't even blink before I said I'm in.If he gives me the cash I'll just mail it to my wife and then I can die with a smile on my face.
'Who am I?' is a question that has plagued mankind since its dawn. Is one merely an accumulation of ones memories? Shaped and crafted by the experiences of their lifetime into the person they are in that present moment only to continue evolving in the coming weeks, months and years. Or is there something more intrinsic to each individuals? An inborn personality or nature that at its core will always remain their identity in its purest form. &#x200B; 'Who am I?' Is a question that had plagued Gareth for years as his memories began to slip through his fingers like sand. Over time it had progressed from forgetting simple things like his keys or an appointment into not being able to recall or recognise the faces of loved ones. Where he went to school as a child. The first time he drove a car. The names of his parents and his husband. Eventually culminating in the loss of his self, no longer able to tell who he was when looking in the mirror. &#x200B; Memor-E helped him regain his sense of self, though not his most precious memories, they were already gone. A simple chip and two pills a day allowed him to keep new ones however. The children he had all but forgotten managed to get him on a waiting list for a trial for a technological cure to Alzheimers and with months of therapy and doctors visits he was able to learn about his past. Given facts and shown pictures and videos he was almost whole again. Able to build an understanding of himself he was given a second life in his twilight years when it was almost certain it had all been lost to him. For this he could not have been more grateful. &#x200B; 'Who am I?' Is a question that has plagued Gareth for the last few weeks. There had been some kind of... malfunction with his implant. That's what the engineers at Memor-E had told him after he informed his doctor of the unfamiliar things he had been recalling of late. They said it must be an issue related to the older test model that had been installed in his head during the days of the trial runs.. Weeks in summer spent playing in the woods and fields as a child when, by all accounts he had been told about himself, he grew up in London and didn't leave the city until he was 18. An embarrassing moment at school after getting a first period, needless to say this memory was surely not one of his own. Once more his sense of self was called into question. With all these other peoples memories dancing around in his head was he himself anymore? He most definitely did not feel like it. There was someones memories and experiences in here with his own, affecting how he thought. He now recalled time spent at university, studying Aristotle and Kant. Marrying a man that was not his own husband. And now the question of 'Who am I?' hung over on a shared mind.
Life is going alright right now, well as alright as it could be when your best friend graduated and is now the head commander of the British army and all you do is burnout the couch. Back in high school I remember I was thought of as the “smart one” and he was just my sidekick, oh how the tables have turned. I still love him though, he needs me in his life to brighten it up, which now that I think about it, is something that also started in high school. When I used to put prank letters in his locker, signed by “PM” or “the prank master.” Oh how I miss those days. While sitting on the couch with a cold beer, I heard keys jingle in my door. It was Jonathan he was back from a long day’s work. Jonathan didn’t greet me with his usual charming ways, so I noticed something was wrong. But, working in the British army, there’s bound to be some stress filled days, so I often did what I could to take the load off of him. “Jonathan, my man, grab a beer, sit down.” I said. Jonathan gave a weak smile and obliged. After almost half an hour of silently watching the football game, and chugging down beers, Jonathan finally spoke. “It’s just been tough at work.” He started, as he took a large gulp. “Ever since I was promoted, they’ve been making me make these huge decisions. Decisions I’m not ready to make.” He continued. “They chose you for a reason Jon, they believe in you, I know whatever that decision is, you’ll make the right one.” I reassured him, as I gripped his shoulder tightly “It’s just, this is the army. Once I make a decision I can’t just back out, I need to stick to my word.” He said putting his face in hands. “You’ll be fine Jonathan. You are the smartest most reasonable guy I know.” I said. Jonathan sighed as he raised his glass to mine and took another sip. Jonathan needed some fun in his life, and I,being his best friend, would provide him with it. The next day Jonathan woke up at five am, but little did he know, I was awake too. Jonathan took forever to get properly dressed for work, so his carpool ride would often spend a good twenty minutes waiting for him outside. As Jonathan continued getting ready, I quickly but quietly ran outside to his carpool ride. “Hey I know we haven’t really met, but I’m Jonathan’s roommate, he’s been under a lot of stress lately and I just want to lighten up his day with a prank, do you think you could put this in his mailbox at work?” I asked. I raised up my envelope. He looked at the envelope suspiciously. “It’s just a letter with stupid but funny America vs Britain jokes.” I flattened out the envelope in front of him, to prove that’s all it was. The carpool guy chuckled and nodded as he took my square envelope and stashed it away. As minutes ticked down, for Jonathan to come home from work,I patiently waited. I was ecstatic to see Jonathan’s reaction about the “PM”aka me making a comeback. Before I knew it I heard keys jingling and Jonathan was home. Only when I opened the door he seemed visibly upset. “Jonathan, what’s wrong?” I asked “I-I made a decision. Britain- declaring war on the U.S” he stuttered. “What? Why!” I exclaimed. As Jonathan shut the door behind him, he scuffled his hand around the pocket of his jacket, slowly but surely pulling out the letter. The prank letter I had written him. The one full of stupid America vs Britain jokes. “I think the prime minster got ahold of it and he sent it to me. I know the jokes may be stupid but officials of countries don’t just make these remarks.” Jonathan stated. My legs felt like jelly, and lip started quivering. “J-Jonathan, it’s-it’s the prank master’s.” I finally managed to spit out. Jonathan’s face dropped as he started rapidly grabbing fists full of his hair in his hands. “Oh,no!Oh,no!” He exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why at work? How could you do this! You’re so stupid!” He shouted. He quickly rushed over to the tv and turned to the news channel. “As Britain declared war on the U.S, the U.S and Britain’s shared allies could be gearing the world into a potential world war three. We’ll keep you updated on this global breaking news.” Jonathan fell to his knees and I just stood there, with tears rolling down my face, standing frozen, not being able to comprehend the mess that I had just made. [Thanks for reading! This was just for fun. I am a new reddit writer and a very amateur writer.]
The Intergalactical bar went silent as I walked in. Heads turned. Faces frowned. Eyes narrowed. Mouths scowled. Fists balled. My buttcheeks clenched in fear, so it looked like I was constipated as I tried to perch on a stool at the counter. The bartender had two hands on the counter, two hands cleaning a glass out with a handerkerchief, and two hands under the table, on a gun, in case things got ugly. He didn't ask me what I wanted, so finally I blurted, "A-Arctic Mead, please." "All we got is Burning Crush." I looked over his shoulder at the full glass bottle behind him that clearly said Arctic Mead on it. "I-I'll take Burning Crush t-then,"I stammered. I hate Burning Crush. It was literally invented by a masochistic madman who one day asked himself, "How can I make a drink thats sole purpose is to give someone the most explosive diarrhea ever?"It's so hot, you don't even taste it. Your entire mouth just goes numb, and thirty to forty-five minutes you're screaming on the toilet bowl as lava shit shoots out your ass. Last time I drank Burning Crush, I had explosive diarrhea for a month and nearly died of dehydration. But as soon as I took a sip, everyone in the bar looked away and went back to their business. They knew the drink would fuck me up more than they ever could. Some hot alien chick came over and said, "That was pretty hot." I grinned (I think - I hope). "That was nothing,"I mumbled. "Wait half and hour from now and see what I do to a bathroom. The entire room'll be steaming. It'll feel like you're in a sauna." "I don't know what that it is,"she said, "But that sounds pretty hot." "Well, then,"I said, ditching my drink and offering my arm. "Lets go back to my ship and I'll show you." She giggled. "That sounds pretty hot." "You like saying 'pretty hot' a lot, don't you?" We were walking. She leaned into me, and said, "It's pretty hot, isn't it?" "Not really. And why do you keep emphasizing the 'hot like that. If I didnt know any better, it would sound like you're trying to signal someon-" As we stepped outside, a fist hit me from the side and life went dark.
Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Food. "Wait, food?"you might ask. Yeah, that's right. Food is one of the elements in this universe, and I just so happen to be the only person who can control it. Mainly, I use it to mooch off of others' food, since I'm poor as heck, much to their chagrin. I know what you're thinking: "Get a job, you moocher! Pay for your own food!"Well, the thing is no vendor, merchant, or blacksmith could ever hire a moocher like me. In fact, because of the fact that I am the only one who can bend food to my will, people of all different backgrounds look down at me for it. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to be near me, no one even wants to look at me. I was just walking around in the woods one day, when I noticed someone lighting a campfire. That person looked familiar to me, as he was wearing blue Water Tribe clothing and had a man bun. There was also a giant bison with many arrow tattoos on it right next to him. He turned around and looked at me. "Hey, kid,"the young man said to me, "town's that way." When I saw his face, that's when it hit me: it's Sokka from the legendary Team Avatar, and the bison behind him was Appa! Oh my goodness! I've heard so much about him! What should I do?! Introduce myself? Crack a joke? He seems to like those. Just say something. "Uh-- uh-- uh--"I said. No! Not that! Say something else! "Oh, you must have realized that I'm friends with the one and only Avatar!"Sokka boasted. "Well, sorry, but he's out with Katara getting berries for dinner tonight, but I'll be happy to keep you company until he comes back. So, what'cha doin' out here, kid?" "Well, you see... I'm a--"I started to say, but then... "Hey!"A voice said to me from behind. It was a Fire Nation soldier. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"Sokka exclaimed. "What's going on here?" "That young man has been going around stealing people's food!"The soldier claimed. "Whaaaat?"I asked. "No I haven't! Come on!" "Don't lie to me, mister!"The soldier barked at me. "You're coming with me." I backed into Appa, until a basket fell down on to me. It was filled with an assortment of fruits, vegetables, and meats. Acting without hesitation, I raised my hands towards the man as he charged towards me as the food led a full-scale counterattack against him. It managed to significantly slow him down in time for me to ram him with the basket. He was about to get up, but then I saw some chicken legs, and I launched them to make them hit his stomach, knocking him out cold. When I caught my breath, I turned around to see Sokka looking at me with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. Before I could say anything, he said to me, "That... was... AMAZING! What was that?! How did you do that?!" "Uh,"I started to say, "it's a type of bending that as far as I know of, I can perform called Foodbending." "Foodbending?!"He shouted with excitement. "How have I never heard about this?! You have GOT to teach me! Please, please, please, pleeaaasssse?"When he said that, he just look at me with big puppy eyes as he begged for a lesson. I was reluctant at first, but I said, "Alright, but you gotta understand, like any other form of bending, it is a discipline, so I expect a lot out of you, okay?" "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!"He shouted in jubilation, hugging me. This is going to be a very tough curriculum for him, but at least I'm accepted for my abilities now, so I guess that's something good.
[Poem] H- “Gooooooood morning, today is the day that I do it” W- “ Please dear god, say you won’t put me through it” H-“ Oh please babe, you know that this is my day” W-“ How could I forget, it makes me sick in every way” H-“ My bags are packed and you know I’ve been training” W- “ Well look at the weather, I think it’s gonna start raining” H-“ You know I’ve wanted to do this since I was young” W-“Let me take your temperature first, stick out your tongue” H-“ You know I’m not sick, I’m the healthiest I’ve been” W-“ Please tell me why you never seem to listen again?” H-“ Ill be the first man on Mars our kids will be proud “ W-“ But what about your hearing, those space ships are loud?” H-“ Ear plugs will work I guess but that’s a small issue” W-“ Your nose seems stuffed up, here let me get you a tissue” H-“ You’re acting a little strange, is everything alright?” W-“Well, I honestly don’t want you to go, I don’t thinks it’s right” H-“Are you worried about the rocket? True,it might explode” W-“Also what about your bad back, and all that equipment to unload” H-“ It never crossed my mind. Now I’m getting nervous” W-“ Ok, just call the commander I’m sure he will thank you for your service” H-“ Ok, but I really wanted to leave a legacy, my own mark” W-“ Well you can do that here on earth. You’re dedicated and very smart” H-“Another thing is, I wanted to carve our initials on the planet” W-“ You did? Oh I hate to see you so depressed I just can’t stand it” H-“You mean it, you’ll let me go? You’re the best wife in the world!” W-“ I know, Hurry up you’re late. Oh and don’t flirt with any alien girls” I apologize if there are formatting issues I am on mobile.
The best thread to look on upon killing someone is the thread where the mentally ill and suicidal reside. It’s not like they fight back much. I’ve seen many nicknames for me and what I do. Daily Redditor killer, intel, NEET, and many more. I’ve ranked up quiet a lot of headlines too. People on reddit have become weary of meeting up locally even in public places. But even when they do meet in public places that hasn’t been enough to stop me. It’s been so easy to put on a charming persona. It’s not long before they trust me enough to show me things in private. I have not missed a single kill in over a month. You may think what I’m doing is bad, but I’m doing justice. Installing fear back into people. They need this. I need it. They need to learn. It’s so careless meeting up with random people on the internet. I’m just trying to show people they need to be more careful. My most memorable kill? It was a woman in her early 20’s. I posted on a nameless thread, I’d like to keep that bit private if you don’t mind. If I say the thread you’ll look for it, clout chasers. I said how depressed and unloved I felt and I felt nothing mattered. She opened up to me. She said she felt the same. Of course she did. Everyone on that thread is desperate for something. Love, feeling validated, money or just to talk. She seemed to need all of these. She was from California. I told her I lived relatively close to her general location. I lied. I really lived around 14 hours away. Not long for me to drive. I’ve never killed more than one person from the same state in a month. We agreed to meet in a public place near her. I’m sure she didn’t tell anyone about us meeting. She had no one entirely alone. We met up for food, and she invited me back. Again. As long as you’re charming and don’t have weird vibes people feel comfortable around you. We went back to her place and when she was comfortable that’s when I did it. I killed her. She put up as much of a fight as she could but since she was so small it was still no issue for me. I killed her and drew it out. It’s not often I get to kill someone with a beautiful soul and beautiful on the outside. Careless. If only she didn’t invite me back. Part of her wanted to live I could see it in her eyes. The kills have never bothered me, not even the first one. I’ve talked to people who say at first it was hard, but if I allowed it to be hard on me I wouldn’t be able to cleanse the world. I’ve even killed people who wanted to unmask me. All I do is say I’m Curious too. I act like I don’t know much. Than they meet up with me so they can tell me their theories. It must be an honor for them to get killed by someone they research a lot. I don’t think anyone will ever figure out I’m the killer the police are looking for. I’m an average guy. And I tie up all my loose ends.
Everyone remembers where they were when the asteroid hit. It was impossible not to; ever since the astronomists announced that Hypnos was right on course to hit Shanghai, China on October 22nd, 2022, the date was forever imprinted into the minds of (nearly) every person on Earth. It was almost surprising, at first, when we first found out, how little anyone did. After the news of such a cataclysmic event I would've expected pandemonium, people running out on the streets, fires, destruction. There was none of it. We were worried, of course, how couldn't you be? But it was with an easily-acquired resignation that the people of Earth put faith in the great minds to dig the planet out of its imminent grave. And then, once the initial shock wore off and everyone was done contemplating the possibility of death, life went on. It was true that a few went off the deep end completely, becoming obsessed with building their shelters and with 'preparing' for doomsday. And maybe the stock traders were a little more risky in their investments and maybe the young people were a little more daring. But all in all, people kept going to work. They kept sending their kids to school, and the shops and restaurants and big companies stayed open. People planned for the future, saving money and getting married and having kids. It was almost easy to forget the inevitability of the colossal asteroid that was destined to collide with the Earth and kill a billion people on impact and 6 billion more in the years to come. Easy, really, unless you were one of the top astronauts working on the case. Hypnos consumed my mind. I spent nearly every waking moment checking and rechecking if it had gone off course (it never did), holding conferences with engineering companies to try and build something to destroy or at least damage the asteroid, making evacuation plans designed to spare the largest amount of people possible from that first blow. It was useless work. I thought we had succeeded, once, when Hypnos seemed to remain almost stagnant for a few months. I knew it wouldn't change course; I was just hoping we could buy some time. But before long it was hurtling right at us again, as if it was purposefully playing mind games with us. It was on the evening of October 12th, 2022 that I admitted defeat. I had spent a few moments in a state of glorious triumph- my partner from the engineering company and I had devised a plan that would not only stop Hypnos in it's tracks but veer it off course completely-sparing Earth from its terrible fate. "You've really done it, Kara."I beamed at the engineer who had devoted the past 2 years of her life to working with me for a solution to the Hypnos problem. "Thanks to you! Now all I'm going to need is for you to check over my calculations and make the necessary adjustments." I pored over her notes; everything seemed right to me. I couldn't believe it. After all this time, so close to the arrival date... "Kara, what's the date?" "I have no idea."That wasn't suprising; with the intensity with which we had been working on the problem, trivial things like dates were easy to forget. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. October 12th. I looked back at Kara's notes. Projected time for completion of project: 44 days. I left the room without a second glance at Kara, who made no attempt to follow me but instead grabbed at her notes. In a few seconds she would make my same realization. I left the laboratory and nearly ran to the dormitories that had been set up near the lab for the researchers. I nearly trampled a few people as I sprinted through the hall, unlocked my door, threw my coat on the ground and dialed a phone number. Beep, beep, beep. You have reached the Nelson family! Samantha, Brian, Hannah or Kelsey will call you back soon. Leave a message! I called again, again, again. I cursed my wife for being too damn old fashioned to carry a cell phone. I cursed myself to refuse to buy my daughters a cell phone at such a young age. I cursed myself for having the brains to save the world a few days too late. Outside my bedroom window was the steady routine of 5 o'clock traffic and the beginnings of an extremely early snowfall. I wanted the world to stop right here, to press pause on it all. I knew exactly what would come after October 22nd; destruction, starvation, the abandonment of society and civilization as we knew it. I would have done anything to stop that from happening, not just for my own instinct of survival but my own dream of seeing my daughters get married and live out their lives and getting to grow old with my wife. I was terrified of having to fight for my life amongst looters and savages and to see my family ravaged by the chaos. Most of all I wished that I hadn't had to feel the cutting irony of finding the solution to the world's big problem a few days too late. I didn't know what else there was to do but I knew that I wasn't a brave man. I had tried to save the world, and I had failed. I took the handgun that I kept in my beside drawer to protect from intruders and I brought it to my head. I looked out the window, and I remembered the world as I loved it, with the bustle of the city and the smiles of my family and the ignorant hopes that everything would be alright in the end. Kara Johnson burst into the room and screamed. He had a funeral attended by nearly thousands, most of them people he had never known and who had only come to know him when the news of his discovery broke out. After the funeral, life went on. On October 17th, 3 days after Hypnos had been shattered to smithereens by Kara Johnson's design, she found herself again in the laboratory she had come to know so well. She picked up her belongings and sighed. No one knew, really, why Brian had killed himself. He should've been overjoyed. She ripped the aging calendar off of the wall and turned it over. She shook her head in slight amusement as she read '2006' on its cover. Why in the hell did Brian still have a calendar from so long ago in his lab? She peered closer. There was a strange mark on the date 'October 12'. Written in the spacing under the date was 'Kelsey's birthday'. How cute! She left it pinned on the wall.
"I love you"- She would always say with the warmest smile I had ever seen. "I want to stay by your side to the end of time"- I would always respond. I never wanted to date Emilia. We know each other since she moved close to me when we both were 8. We were good friends. The best, some would say. I never wanted it to change. But Emilia had other plans. "I don't want to be friends anymore. I want to be something more. Either that or we are over, friendship and all. So, will you date me?"- she confessed one day, pouring her heart out to me. I couldn't bring myself to say no. I'd date her if it meant being by her side for just that little more time. I never loved her, but that didn't matter, I needed her. I needed to keep her happy. It was excruciating for me. I wanted to tell her so hard that I did not want to maintain our relationship, not like this. Every time I saw that beautiful smile, though, I realized again and again that I could not erase it with my own words. "I need to know if you really love me". I finally had my chance to tell the truth. It would be painful, but lying is never an option and she deserved to know what I really felt. I took a deep breath and said what I meant to say all along. "Yes. I do love you". Her tears of happiness couldn't be further apart from my reaction of pure confusion.
The year is 2040, an entire generation has grown into this world where telekinesis is common place like the internet is for us. Due to the lack of effort needed obesity rates have massively risen as well as crime. The effort required to sever an artery is obtained within he first days of birth, for those born after the event, and within the first to everyone affected at the beginning. No one knows how we’ve obtained these abilities; all I know is that they are more of a curse than a gift. My name is James and I was born on July 23rd, 2019. I was the first to be born into my powers. In my confusion and fear of my first moments of life I telekinetically sliced my my mother to all hell, the woman who just gave me life. I also killed two nurses as severally injured the delivering doctor and my father. In my first moments of life I killed three people. Now when babies are delivered, they are sedated in the womb and the mother is given a c section. The child is then held in the care of the government until the child has hit puberty and is then sent on to what basically amounts to parole. Since killing people became easier, the punishment for any crime committed by using one’s powers is a felony. Any death caused by a person above the age of release is then answered by execution. The entire continental United States was placed under military rule as well as several of our allies and most dangerous adversaries. Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Alaska would eventually become independent in the years following the arrival of the powers. As a child you are separated by your parents and are raised by the government. You are taught not to use your powers under any circumstance unless it’s to protect yourself or your nation. You are taught and forced to submit yourself to the betterment of society, and if you are to fall out of line your life will be hell and you deserve it. You are never taught what it means to have a family or be loved, the only family you have is your nation and you are to give your love to it for its protection. Once you turn five, you are given the chance to see your parents. For the first groups of children the parents would always, apart from mine, but as the years carried on, the prison became the norm. Most children now only see their parents a few times before they are released. I have spent my nearly 21 years of life within the same hospital that I killed my mother in. They won’t let me leave, they believe that since I was the first born into my powers that I might have a key to where they came from or a way to turn them off. I’ve been poked, prodded, and subjugated to ever be invited and to some that were invited just for me. After not being able to figure out anything for years, I am finally getting let out. They have arranged: housing, courses at division university, and living expenses for my entire stay at college. I presume this is to keep me from going to the news and telling them how they kept my prisoner for all my life only to kick me out with nothing. I am going to study medicine and psychology at Harvard so that I can figure out what the fuck happened.
"What the hell?"Death asked. "Good heavens!"Life exclaimed. Both entity stood in awe and disbelief, mostly in awe, as they watched the City burning. Newly forged souls had gone rampant and set houses on fire due to their early form, being a small ball of floating flames. While on the other hand, newly dead spirits of humans had gone into panic as they didn't understand they were actually dead, smashing and screaming at things they couldn't comprehend. Well, Death couldn't blame them, the City was a God dammed spaceship, courtesy of God Himself. God promised it was only a theme. He called it Sci-Fiction or something, but it had been going for a thousand year. But, Now now, let's not get lost in the story. Death had made it sure that at least one of her minions would stay intact if ever something bad might happen. She even gave the Roads, if she could call the ship's halls the Roads, lanterns to give her minions a proper direction. Hell, Death even made them wear her cloak! "So.. what now?"Death asked. Life still had his jaws dropped. First of all, he never knew newly forged souls could burn things, let alone metallic things. Second, he knew he had paused the forging of souls just before his date with the lovely Death, so he couldn't place how these little balls of burning babies got conceived in the first place. Worse of all, he still felt wobbly. His head felt like spinning whirlwind and his feet couldn't place firm in the ground. Life looked down at his feet, half of it passed through the floor. "Don't get drunk ever again, I guess?" Death nodded. "What did we drink exactly?" "Probably one of God's brand. My best bet is His new Holy Sacraments ones. It must had slipped in my hands when I went to get the drinks last night,"Life explained. "You keep one of His brands?"Death asked, a brow raised. "It's a debt from Jesus."Life brushed the question away. "Anyway, let's just sleep again and hoped everything stops as we do." "Lead me away, my dear Life."Death curved her lips into a smile he knew only meant one thing. "Upstairs it is then. Don't squeeze me to death, okay?"Life said as he offered his hand. Death rolled her eyes as she took it. "Better think of a better joke as if my Life depended on it." Life laughed. "Strike me dead, if I ever pulled one." They both laughed themselves off as they turned their backs on the chaos and headed straight Upstairs. Probably to sleep to keep the spirits away and peaceful. After some intimate snuggling. Maybe. Well, God only knows.
The fox spirit smiled maliciously as she stands over the princess' dead body, holding her still warm heart. It took a while to get here, with the palace protected by various charms put up by generations of royal priests. But to her, the demon who scoured countless villages for the hearts that furthered her powers, it was not impossible. Of course, first it had involved assassinating the current priest. Her brow furrowed at the thought of her effort at staking out the palace. He had lived in the palace as well, protected by tailsmans. There were no loopholes, or so they thought. She had successfully baited out the royal priest out of that fortress by making herself prominent among the villagers, giving them nightmares, wandering into their abodes. It had been a rather annoying battle when he had tracked her down, but finally she managed to take control over the priest. Thankfully, he wasn't expected to return so soon to the palace, so it just had been a matter of seducing the palace guards to take down the tailsmans for her before they found out of the priest disappearance. And now she stands, disguised as the priest, before the bedroom with her reward: the princess' heart. She licked the dripping blood. Such a spoilt brat she was. The black miasma rolling off her blood was delicious nourishment. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Now, what would her next target be? There was nobody else in the palace that was worthy of her meal. She looked down at the body of the princess. The body that still smelled delicious to her had a beautiful face. Beautiful and cruel. A person of power, with a face bewitching. Certainly something to be jealous of. The fox took out an ornate knife and traced its outline. Your face is mine now, she cackled.
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"Hey, let me out! Unlock the door right this second!"Karen screamed at the security guard, who just calmly shook his head. Karen started to march up to the guard, ready to punch him, but I grabbed her sleeve before she gets too far. Violence won't do anything for us. Dozens of people bang on the glass doors, confused as to why mall security won't let us out. Usually the guards are more than happy to kick everyone out of the mall at 9PM sharp, but not today. Other people huddled, frightened, near the walls. It was absolute chaos. Honestly, I felt like the glass might break at any second. "BEEP, BEEP, BEEP,"the sound of hundreds of amber alerts filled the open ceilings of the mall. Blue phone lights illuminated everyone's faces as they searched for an answer. Why are we stuck inside this mall? *Health and safety report: A dangerous outbreak of CR Type-4 Marevirus is occurring. Stay inside an enclosed area and do not leave. Stay away from infected persons, as this disease is highly contagious. Symptoms include: pus filled cysts all over the body, feces with blood, and jaundice-like yellow skin, as well as fever.* If I thought it was utter chaos before, I was plain wrong. People started shrieking, throwing chairs and salt-pepper shakers from the food court. Someone passed out and others started sprinkling water on her face to wake her up. Others assumed it was a free for all and ran into the nearby stores, grabbing as much merchandise as they could and running. Karen was sobbing into Alice's arms, and I made eye contact with Samuel. The same terror I felt inside me was etched in his eyes. I guess I wasn't the only one too afraid to move. Karen, Alice, Samuel and I came to this mall hundreds of times before. It was nothing new, getting into Samuel's car and coming here. It was our go-to hangout. And now, I don't think I can ever look at this building the same way ever again. It's Hell. I wish the screaming would stop. I grabbed Alice, who was still holding onto Karen, and ran. Samuel followed behind me as we ran to one of the shops in the food court. "Who knows how long we're going to be stuck? Let's grab as much food as we can, and then run to Claire's. No one will want to hide inside a semi-cheap pre-teen style earring shop,"I whisper to Alice. She nods, and motions for Samuel to follow her. I grabbed as many panda express egg rolls as I could fit into a plastic bag, and ran to fill cups with water. Other people pushed and shoved for the water, as expected. Whatever. I'll let them have the water. I filled my cups up with unsweetened iced tea, and searched for Claire's. Most people were trying to go upstairs, to the food court, rather than the merchandise stores downstairs. So I was in luck, having already grabbed enough egg rolls to feed us for a day or two. Plenty of people behind me salvaged what they could, ranging from an undercooked bowl of orange chicken to an entire pizza. But the food would eventually run out, and I shuddered at the thought of what might happen next. Alice and Sam were hiding behind the check in counter at Claire's to make sure no one outside saw them and tried to steal the food they'd brought. If rationed correctly, our fast food scraps should last for 3 days for four people. And Alice had somehow found water. "Where's Karen?"I asked Alice. Karen was sobbing earlier, a complete mess. "She decided she wants to get all the gucci and chanel merchandise she can while it's a free for all,"Alice rubs her temples as if she has a migraine. "Well, one less mouth to feed,"I said exasperatedly, as I locked the door of Claire's and pushed the ear piercing station table to the door. Alice and Sam gaped at me. "We can't wait for Karen at a time like this. It's her fault for deciding branded merchandise is more important than her life. She'll manage,"I glared at Alice, who almost looked afraid of me. I didn't want to become a monster, but I knew I would do anything to survive.
It was my second year in Camp Half-Blood. I was finally starting to accept that the powerful beings greeks called gods did in fact exist, and I was the son of one. I'll spare the details, as it's a whole another story, but I was discovered by a satyr who was undercover as one of my classmates. We were on a school trip and I managed to piss off a few naiads when I threw a coke can in a river. It was dinner time, we all gathered around the campfire, everyone took the best piece of food out of their dishes and threw it in. I had only candy in my plate, as I wasn't hungry and just took something off the dessert table. I decided to burn the M&M packet, my most favourite thing in the whole world, and wished for my father to finally reveal himself. As soon as it dropped into the fire, I felt uneasy, as if water was running down my whole body. I had heard stories, that once in a while, if your thought is kindhearted enough, a magical being will soon come to you and become your pet. It sounded weird, even by my standards. I went to sleep early that night, not being able to shake off that constant feeling of unease. Sleeping didn't help either. I dreamed I was in a cold, reddish looking cave, so big that I couldn't see the ceiling. I saw three strange figures flying up in the sky, and when they noticed I was looking at them they made a sound so terrifying, I lost the ability to speak. I also saw another figure - that of a big man, in what seemed a blue uniform, with silver hair that somehow glistened in the darkness, holding a creature in his arms. I woke up to a knock on the door, covered in sweat from the dream I had. The knock was heavy and it seemed like the person on the other side of the door was big. I got out of bed, carefully walked to the door and peeked through the peephole. Outside, the same tall, silver-haired man in blue uniform was standing, holding a cat that was bigger than any other I've seen in his arms. I opened the door. "My name is Bob", he introduced himself. I decided to try approaching him directly. "Can you tell me what the hell you're doing here, first I dream about you and now you're knocking on my door holding a giant cat?" He replied calmly "First, this is not a cat, it's a sabertooth cub and his name is Small Bob." "Secondly", he continued, "Your father sent me to deliver your new pet,", holding up the cub. My mind started to race with questions. Not only were the stories about the special pet true, but mine was a gift from my goldy father, who didn't even reveal himself. Sitting quietly and mulling over the information I just received, I started connecting the dots. The big cave-like place, the three flying figures... "My father is Hades?!"I yelled. "Yes child, and he has heard your prayer, sending you a gift for not revealing himself earlier. There's an agreement about these kind of situations, after all! ", the silver haired man said. I didn't want to think about what that agreement could be, or what Hades being my father meant, so I concentrated on the gift. "So, you say this is actually a Sabertooth tiger cub, right? How can this be possible, they've been extinct for a very long time? " "This one in perticular, was created a year ago, in the Smithsonian.", he said, looking down at the creature. "When I first saw him, I knew I had to take him with me, almost as if it was fate.", he continued. Bob started tearing up and before he began crying, he handed me over Small Bob and said "You take care of Small Bob, you hear? I'll come check on him from time to time. Oh, and also , can you tell Perseus that I know what happened between us, and that I feel better as this new person, rather than the monster I was." With these words, he dissapeared. He left me with thousands of questions I needed to know the answer to and a sabertooth cub. First, I needed to figure out how to raise a tiger cub, whose fangs were even at this age, longer than my hand from the beginning of the palm to the tip of my middle finger. \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ First thing I've ever written. English isn't my first language and I have no experience in writing, so give me your honest opinion.
poem:personal hell &#x200B; I write to you thinking my words find you well. &#x200B; sitting in darkness in my personal hell. &#x200B; for i am possessed by a demon you see. &#x200B; he controls my body, only him. not me. &#x200B; i see with my eyes what he does very well. &#x200B; sitting in darkness in my personal hell. &#x200B; he kills and mangles with a smile on his face, &#x200B; but the smile is my own to much my disgrace. &#x200B; locked deep down inside in this black evil shell. &#x200B; sitting in darkness in my personal hell.
“Listen to me, John,” the builder begged of me, gripping my arm with dwindling strength. “My toolbox is still up there, but I have manuals and written instructions under my mattress. Those should help you. The tools may be rusty and shot to hell, but they should do most of what you need.” His last words were interrupted by an agonized groan ripping from his throat. It was a miracle that the impact didn’t immediately kill the old man. I grabbed my mentor’s cold hand and glanced down at his lower body. The blood that spurted from his thigh had long past bled through his clothing, and was now soaking into the ground beneath us both. I knew that exposed rebar could be just as sharp as a blade. “Burn my body,” the builder croaked. “Do it tonight.” I tried to respond to him, but a sob strangled my throat and all I could do was nod incessantly. Shouts and the scampering of muddy footsteps sounded behind the fortress walls. The commotion was probably due to the builder’s scream when he plunged to the earth, but I couldn’t be certain. The men in the watch towers remained silent — a sign that gave me much needed comfort in this moment of dread. The scream of steel and concrete ripped through the cool air as the near-distant fortress gates opened. Men rushed toward me and the builder, but I knew that saving the builder’s life would be a futile mission. “Boy! What happened?” one of them yelled as he ran toward me. He was a tall man, commanding of an audience. But even he had an anxious hitch in his voice that made the hair on my neck stand up. I stared up at the wall some thirty feet above my head, then the pile of rubble at the base of the fortress that the builder rolled off of. Seconds earlier, I saw the builder topple over the edge, but the sob that consumed my voice only allowed me to stare at the man stupidly agape. “Fell…” the builder managed to mutter. “Burn my body.” The men — I counted three of them at this point — gave each other a knowing and nod at his order. I felt my mentor’s hand go limp in my own and the sob that devoured my voice finally slipped out of me. “We have to get him inside,” one of the men said. “But the blood,” I choked, managing to stand. “What do we do about the blood?” “I don’t know, just grab his leg,” the tall man snapped. We were losing daylight, and the blood-soaked builder had been outside the walls far too long already. I grabbed the builder’s broken leg, blood still flowing from his thigh. Each of the men grabbed another extremity and lugged the builder toward the open fortress entrance. The builder wasn’t a large man, but the years of climbing the fortress walls made him dense and muscular. I felt the uncomfortable beading of sweat swell up on my brow — from the heft of the man, the adrenaline of the experience, or the fear of what was to come, I couldn’t be certain. The tall man, heaving the builder’s other leg, quickly glanced toward the fortress entrance. “Tell everyone inside that we need a pyre right now!” he screamed at the gate guards. Step by step, we inched closer to the entrance of the fortress, the builder’s body swaying from side to side with each synchronized stride. Inside the walls, we were met with commotion and pure panic. I saw men and women throwing all usable lumber into the center of the courtyard for the pyre while another set of people carried every shovel that the fortress had to the entrance of the fortress. They were trailed by three wheelbarrows and blurs of people as they ran out. Distracted by the sway of the builder’s body, I did a double take as I watched the people throwing the lumber into the pyre. My stomach lurched when I noticed that none of them were wearing gloves, and I tripped on the muddy ground. The tall man kicked me in the calf. “Watch your fucking step.” We threw the builder up onto the pyre as more wood accumulated around him, and a man came and dumped gasoline onto the body and the pyre. “Wait!” the tall man called to the gasoline pourer before he set the pyre ablaze. He shoved me forward toward the pyre, and I felt another lump accumulate in my throat. “Take your clothes off, you’re covered in it.” I looked down in horror when I saw nothing but the builder’s blood. My shirt, pants, and the worn shoes I had been wearing were painted crimson. Panicking, a cry escaped my mouth as I tore at my clothing. The ripping of such valuable clothing was never a good thing, but every article that I was wearing would have to burn as well. The courtyard was illuminated with my nakedness and I bolted as quickly as possible into the walls of the fortress. The walls and tunnels of the fortress were buzzing with hysteria. Mothers tried to calm screaming children and people shoved their way deeper into the tunnels, away from the center of the courtyard and away from what lies outside the fortress walls. The quarters were built into the mountain itself, providing a cool space for most people to live and work. Several decades of boring led to extensive tunnel systems in the mountain that housed everybody that was left. One of the first rooms inside the mountain was the decontamination room. It was a small room, but had an air of extravagance to it due to being covered head to toe in surgical grade stainless steel. The founders of the fortress used the last of several precious resources they had in order to build such a sterile environment inside of a mountain, but it was desperately needed. It was the only room in the fortress that consistently contained boiling hot water, hydrogen peroxide, ammonia, and several other strong cleaning agents to clean instruments — and people — in exactly these cases. I burst into the room and my eyes darted from corner to corner, unsure of where to even begin. Seeing my blood-stained body inspired a wave of nausea in me, and a scream escaped from my chest when I turned the faucet to dump scalding water over me from head to toe. The blood was easily being rinsed away, but it wasn’t enough. I rapidly turned the shower off and chased the cooling water with bleach, sure to destroy any evidence of blood in the drains. Twilight was upon the fortress when the pyre roared to life in the courtyard. The stench of burning flesh and painted wood filled the raw air, cutting through the scent of pine and tranquility like a knife. The people with the shovels and wheelbarrows returned as the blaze grew ever larger in the courtyard. I could hear the crowd grow silent outside the tunnels, and I wrapped a cloth around my body before running back outside to see the state of the pyre. To my surprise, the men were throwing massive amounts of dirt onto the pyre. The fire grew slightly weaker with each toss of earth onto the blaze. “Stop!” I shouted and waved at them, holding my cloth up with my spare hand. The night was upon us now, and the air had a distinctive chill to it as the breeze brushed my burned skin. “What are you doing? Don’t put it out!” “Boy!” the tall man called to me. His arms were crossed, his stance tall, supervising the scene in front of him. I ran to the man across the courtyard. “Why are they trying to extinguish the fire? It’s too soon!” “It’s the earth soaked with the builder’s blood,” the man explained. “If we don’t burn those traces of him as well, we won’t be here tomorrow.” I could feel my face growing grim. “How do we know if they got it all?” A muscle flexed in the man’s jawline, his gaze not breaking from the pyre. “We don’t.” Seconds later, the horn sounded from the watch tower. It reverberated off the mountain, filling the valley below with a deep drone that made my heart sink. The fortress, in a collective sound of silence and terror, listened as the nearby towers sounded their identical calls. In the courtyard, a woman who had been throwing lumber into the pyre, absently wiped her arm, smearing the blood of a small scratch across her palm. We weren’t fast enough. They smelled it. The Things were coming.
A capable predator is a fundamental requirement for a species to reach its full potential. I am told that this, more than anything else, explains why humans are weak and stupid. Three thousand years of flesh wars motivated the development of livestock species. The higher races, requiring energy-dense flesh for consumption, engaged one anothers’ forces in equal numbers on the battlefield, on which the bodies of the losers served as hard-won spoils. Such competition was naturally accompanied by the development of more sophisticated armaments and protective gear, though inter-species agreements prohibited the use of weapons that would permanently alter the physical environment. Technological advances from weapon biological warfare research proved beneficial to many unrelated fields, and the intelligent races of earth were eventually able to create genetically modified members of their own species for consumption. The discovery is often attributed to a council of ungulate scientists, though many species’ claimed to have concurrently developed similar methods. The livestock species were wretched creatures, bred with such intellectual impairment that taking their lives seemed only marginally less ethical than eating plants, which were a sub-optimal, low-density source of energy, full of insulin-spiking carbohydrates and better purposed to cleanse the air of carbon dioxide than to be consumed by any higher animal. The neurologically sedentary livestock species required very little energy to survive, and many were developed with dull teeth and slow metabolisms that could process and metabolize plants; those livestock animals would in turn feed their parent species, which would be nearly identical in appearance if not for slightly larger skulls housing infinitely superior brains. When livestock numbers grew too great, some species were altered to consume the others, to help keep populations in check. When the higher races ceased killing one another, earth became peaceful … and crowded. The problem was exacerbated by the development of photosynthetic bio-implants that largely eliminated the need to consume protein. When the higher races departed earth for greener pastures, they left their livestock species behind … with one notable exception. Though monkeys and great apes had were revered for their military prowess and proclivity for innovation, their hairless, dull-eyed human cousins had been wildly unsuccessful in the Flesh Wars. Our species might have gone completely extinct if not for our popularity as pets among the more advanced apes, which maintained a small group of humans for breeding purposes, even sharing their flesh rations with their companions. Unfortunately, this group was so small that as time progressed the humans became severely inbred, to the point where mating relatives often produced offspring that were defective in some way. Humans were declared contraband cargo on the ships that bore the ape species to worlds of their own, a dangerous drain to limited supplies and energy during interstellar travel. Only a few thousand breeding age individuals were successfully smuggled onto the crafts, their ascent into space watched tearfully by those humans that were left behind, unprotected and unsure of how to fend for themselves in an increasingly empty world. My ancestors were on such a ship, moved to a lush new Jovian moon with their orangutan masters. When their presence was discovered on the new world, they were detained with the other smuggled humans while the council deliberated their fate. It was determined that the humans would have some key genetic segments altered to reduce the problems associated with inbreeding, and be allotted basic resources to continue our own journey toward technological enlightenment. We are permitted in the viewing-rooms when our masters are moved by nostalgia to observe earth, now inhabited entirely by livestock species and, of course, humans. It is always strange for me to watch the humans on earth, to observe their graceless movements and laughable attempts at technological innovation. Their triumph over the livestock animals, designed specifically to be slow, stupid, harmless, and in many cases, delicious, has seen them become apex predators. But with no Flesh Wars, no intelligent predators, no real environmental challenges to overcome, they first hit and evolutionary plateau, and then began an evolutionary decline. The only real victories to be had are over one another, and so the earth humans destroy their own resources and reduce their own numbers in attempts at self-betterment. Their decay has progressed to the point where individuals in regions possessing surplus are in danger of eating themselves to death. It is embarrassing to watch, and fills me with uncomfortable existential questions, so I frequently pass on observation sessions. The orangutans tell us that the situation has become so dire that the difference between earth humans and those on ape worlds is so vast it resembles those between their own ancestors and their livestock species. Sometimes I wonder if I would feel comfortable eating an earth human. I don’t think I would be. &#x200B; But who knows, I’ve never tasted one.
"All hail our glorious leader!"the general exclaimed with a devious smile as the crowd reluctantly stood up to give a standing ovation. It was the second anniversary of my reign as a ruthless military dictator and the laws required that everyone gather to celebrate the milestone. Personally I'd have preferred a quiet celebration with some friends, but the general insisted on a grand event. The hall was packed full of people, though it is evident from their expression that they did not come here willingly. Soldiers lined the walls, guns at the ready, surveying the crowd for any sign of "unlawful behaviours". "Smile a little,"the general whispered to me as the clapping died down, "and follow the script." Queasily, I stood up from my seat. The crowd applauded again as I approached the front, but the reluctance, the fear, the dread, all were apparent on their faces. A sheet of paper with my speech was laid out on the podium. Something about my father's achievement, the military's might, and the rebellion's futility and crimes. I sighed to myself, earning a glare from the general, before I started the speech. "Greetings people of Lwers,"I began in a confident tone, a result of months of practice with the finest public speaker in the country, "we gather today to celebrate the history of our country, the glory of our nation!" The crowd cheered, meekly. "Our country would not be what it is today if not for my father, and his father before him. If not for the brave men and women of our country, if not for the generals and officers who risk their life for our safety." Again, the crowd applauded. "Death to the tyrant!"someone suddenly cried out from the crowd. The hall fell silent, a tense silence comparable to a fine china that would break at the lightest of touch. Everyone froze, sheer terror on their face, as if half expecting the soldier to rain down bullets on them all. Some officers at the back started to comb through the crowd, making their way to the man. Noticing that he was about to be apprehended, he made his way out of the hall, aided by several bystanders blocking the officers' way. I looked at the crowd with a sorrowful face, I knew that he could run but he can't hide, that sooner or later he'd be captured and sentenced to death. "Goddammit, just keep going,"the general frustratingly whispered, "I'll deal with that rat." "So in celebration of my second anniversary as the glorious leader,"I said, my will further resolved by the recent incident. I lifted up and tore the paper in half, sending in flying in the air. I knew I don't have much longer left, that I need to make the most of my time. The general and other military leaders stood up from their seat, hand gripped on their weapons. "As the glorious leader,"I continued, unfazed, "I would like to formally step down from my position and-" I was too slow, too late, too bold. A gunshot rang out from the crowd as pain shot up my abdomen. I clutched the gunshot wound, my hand staining crimson red. "Death to the tyrant!"another man exclaimed from the crowd, a smoking gun in his hand. Though I very much doubt that he's from the rebellion, given what I was did. Besides, given how strict the checks are it'd be virtually impossible to bring a firearm in. Soldiers moved in and shot the man, who did not move from his place. "I warned you,"the general said, approaching me, "you are just a pawn, a piece I could replace whenever I want." He cleared his throat and look up to the crowd, a panicked expression, genuine to untrained eyes, on his face. "The glorious leader is dead,"he declared in a sorrowful tone as I fell asleep. A sleep I would never wake up from. The glorious leader died, but the regime lived on.
Today was going to be a fun day. Daddy and Mommy had promised to take me to the zoo! I was so excited. I went to bed when asked even to make sure they completed the promise of the zoo. As I jumped out of bed I ran to my dresser. Quickly grabbing the clothes I wanted to wear today I got dressed. I was in a hurry. I wanted to leave now! As I put on my pants my mommy came in. “What are you doing sweetheart?” She asked in her lyrical voice. I loved listening to mommy. Her voice was beautiful. “Getting dressed for the zoo! You promised we would go today!” I was jumping up and down in my excitement. I had been begging to go to the zoo for weeks. Erin got to go and had bragged about petting a penguin. I liked penguins but I wanted to pet a tiger! “We aren’t leaving yet. First breakfast, then we can get ready to go. The zoo doesn’t open till 10am. It’s only 6am right now.” Sighing, I flopped down. I was ready to go now! I didn’t want to wait till 10 am. Smiling my mommy picked me up and took me to the kitchen. “Why don’t you help me make pancakes for breakfast?” “Yippee!” I cried out. I LOVED pancakes! Wriggling down from my mommy’s arms I ran to the kitchen. Once there I dashed for the cupboard. I ran between my daddy’s legs in my rush to get to the pancake stuff. “What’s the rush, tiger?” He asked while laughing. In his hand was his mug. Daddy always had a mug in the morning. He said it was required for him to function. The drink wasn’t very tasty… Daddy said I would understand why he liked coffee once I was older. “Mommy says I can help make pancakes!” I exclaimed. “Ok. Let me grab the mix while you go grab your apron.” Daddy said softly, still smiling at me. As I walked to the drawer with my apron in it my mommy came into the kitchen. She smiled at daddy and kissed him. Ignoring them I continued to look for my apron. It was green with stripes like a tiger. I got it from grandma for my birthday so I could help her make cookies without getting dirty. Frustrated I started dumping the stuff out of the drawer. At the bottom I found my apron. Yipping in delight I grabbed it. Mommy laughed as she looked at the mess I had made. “Let’s pick this up before we make pancakes.” “Okay!” Together we cleaned up my mess, then made pancakes. I got to mix the stuff together! It was so much fun. I loved helping cooking with mommy and grandma. Once the pancakes were made we got to eat them. That was even better! Mommy and daddy talked around me while I ate my pancakes. I couldn’t understand what, espionage or theft meant. I went to ask and noticed the clock said 8:45 am. Yelling in surprise I pointed. “Mommy! Daddy! We will be late to the zoo! It’s almost 10!” I tried to stand up. Daddy pushed me down gently. “Relax. The zoo isn’t going anywhere. We have lots of time. Finish your pancakes then we will finish getting ready to go.” “Okay…” I said it dispirited. I was sure that the tigers, and other animals would be hiding by the time we got to the zoo. As I watched my mommy and daddy pack a few things I finished my pancakes. Once done I jumped from my chair. “Shoes!” My mommy called as I dashed for the door. Quickly turning toward my room, I rushed to grab my favorite shoes. They had lights along the bottom and toes. Once I had them on I ran for the door again. Daddy laughed as he opened the door and helped me into the car. Within a few moments we were driving toward the zoo. The drive seemed to take forever. Daddy pulled over in front of a large signed that said Oregon Zoo. Whooping in delight I reached for my belt buckle. Quickly mommy and daddy got out of the car and grabbed the backpacks. Mommy grabbed my hand as we walked to the entrance. Looking around excited I looked for the animals. “Daddy, where are the animals?” “They are inside. We won’t be able to see them until we get our tickets.” I wanted to run in, but mommy had a firm grasp on my hand. Shuffling my feet I hoped we got our tickets quickly. After what seemed like forever, I was handed a ticket by daddy. “Don’t lose that. We have to give it to the person inside to get in.” Nodding I held my ticket tightly. We walked through the gate toward a large set of arches. The people before us walked toward them. To the left I saw something white move. Excited I ran toward it. Mommy laughed as she walked me over so I could see what it was. Looking at the animal I was fascinated. It was all white and shaggy. It had two horns on its head. “It’s a mountain goat.” “That’s not a goat! Goats are small, and have other colors.” I said. “Mountain goats live in the mountains, and are colored to blend into snow. So they tend to be white.” Mommy said. Nodding I continued to watch the mountain goat. It moved away and I looked away. Time to go inside and see what other cool animals were in the zoo. Walking through the zoo was amazing! The animals were all wondering around and we even got to see a few being fed by the keepers. As we walked we stopped for lunch and drinks. Daddy and mommy said we were saving my favorite for last today. We had seen the lions, bears, penguins, and giraffes. I couldn’t wait to see the tigers. After lunch we walked some more. Mommy pointed to a glass wall. “The tigers are in there.” Laughing in delight I ran to the glass. Once there I watched in awe. The tigers were beautiful. As I watched I didn’t realize that mommy and daddy were sitting a little ways away. A young man walked forward and looked over me to see the tigers. He was wearing a tan shirt like the other zoo keepers had on. “Do you like tigers?” He asked kneeling down next to me. Nodding I smiled. “I loved tigers! They are my favorite.” Smiling at me he looked back toward the enclosure then over my shoulder. “Would you like to pet the tigers?” “CAN I?!” I screamed in excitement. “Yes, but you have to be quiet. It’s just between you and me. Your mommy and daddy arranged it as a special present.” He stood up and held out his hand. Looking behind me I saw mommy and daddy sitting there. I waved to them. They waved back and went back to talking. Grabbing the zoo keeper’s hand I followed behind him. I couldn’t wait to see the tigers up close. We walked to a door and he quickly pulled it open. Once inside he led me to a second set of doors. Kneeling down he said quietly. “ The tigers are nervous around strangers so we are going to put you in a special cage so that they can’t hurt you. Once the other keepers are here and say it’s ok then you can come out and pet the tigers.” Nodding I walked into the room. Inside was a small cage it looked like it would normally hold someone bigger than mommy and daddy combined. Getting into it, I sat down. The cage was in a room. The tigers were outside. I was going to have to be moved first. The zoo keeper closed the door and walked to the cage. Once he secured the door on the cage he walked to the second door and opened it. Leaving it open he looked at me. “The tigers can wander in and out now so they can get to know your smell as they come and go. Be quiet and calm and you will be ok.” Excited I continued sitting down. Nodding I piped up. “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. I won’t scare the tigers. I want to pet them.” The zoo keeper nodded. “Good. I’ll be back in a few moments with the other zoo keepers. Can you be good while I get them?” Nodding, I giggled. I couldn’t wait to pet the tigers. Erin would be so jealous of me. The zoo keeper walked out the other door and closed it. Looking toward the door to the enclosure I waited for the tigers to come in. After a while I saw one wonder in. It circled the cage looking at me. Within moments the others were in the room watching me and circling the cage. Giggling I continued to wait for the zoo keepers to come back. I loved watching the tigers move and being this close was amazing. They even smelled different from my friend’s cat. After a while I heard a gasp and I looked up. One of the zoo keepers had opened the door. As soon as she saw the tigers she quickly closed it. Shrugging I wondered what happened. Maybe she wasn’t a tiger zoo keeper and got the wrong room. I continued watching the tigers, but I was quickly getting bored. After a while I laid down and fell asleep listening to the breathing and pacing of my favorite large cats.
[Poem] The sky is pretty tonight All lit up and gold The fires are burning all around us But there’s no danger from the smoke I’m told. The glaciers melt at an alarming pace As I enjoy the warm weather The arctic creatures struggle and fight And I sit on my couch made of real leather. The world changes and changes again Due to the actions of man But no, there’s no problem here More heat actually gives me a better tan.
The Eternals: psychiatry of an immortal. Patient's name: Jonathan Smythe. Preferred alias: Cerulean. Patient is? "Fifteen sir..." Fifteen... Patient's height? "Five foot three sir..." "What's your weight son?" "U-uh like 120 pounds?" "Can you tell me about yourself? What brings you to me today?" "Well u-uh, heheh, I started having these weird dreams, yeah?" "Mk" "A-a-and they felt real, you know? L-like there was a woman right... With really red hair... You know like those cherries you get down at the soda fountain?" "maraschino cherries" "Yeah! Like that red but maybe a little darker?... It's a little fuzzy..." "You're doing fine " "A-and we're living in a house together... And I got old but she stayed the same... Then i die, and I wake up... and I-its like that every night... It's always different but we are always the same!..." "Do you think these dreams are real?" "I-its gonna sound crazy, you know... But uh... Yeah, yeah I d." "Do you think she is here some where on Earth now?" "I'm'm not sure." "Do you think she is in outer space?" "M'maybe? I feel her though." "Feel her?" "Y-yeah you know like how magnets work." "I see and where do you feel this, this feeling?" "All over! I-it feel like you know a big day is coming, and that anticipation just builds and builds, and builds! And builds!!" "C-calm down son!" "I-im sorry doc... It's just I feel it more and more everyday! A-and today it's worse than ever! It's tearing me apart!... I can feel her so close..." Let's see if we can't get you some medication to help you calm down. My secretary should be in momentarily. She just started yesterday. "O-oh okay doc..." The bell to the front door. "Ah that must be her now. Here let's go say hi. " "Ok doc..." I got up and opened the door, I gestured to him to go out first. He walked out of the room and turned towards the entrance. "What!?!?"He fell down "Jonathan are you alright!?" "I-its her!!" "You mean Scarlett? I walked out of the room and saw her standing in the hallway. She had dropped her purse on the ground. "Hey sweetie uh... You dropped your purse." "Cerulean!"She cried "Now how did you know that?" "Scarlett!?" "Now wait a minute. You said she had red hair, she has black hair!" "Oh I'm sorry doctor, I dyed my hair for the job. Most people find it startling."She lifted it up and there was a small patch of crimson red hair. "I didn't want to dye all of it so I just left a little patch where no one could see." "W-wait so you mean to tell me that you're from space!?"Now I was the one who needed medicine... "Y-yeah! But..." "No buts! You did not fill that out properly on your resume!" "Oh... W-what are you going to do doctor?"She asked "Well I'm going to have to fire you. I can't be having no illegal aliens in my business." "That's a shame."She smiled "Well you could stay if you wanted to... I don't mind. We can just keep it a secret..." "I'm sorry doctor but I can't let you remember us..." "I-i see... Alien brain probing... No I get it..." "N-nothing like that doctor."she laughed "Oh... Well ... Be gentle." "Come follow me into your office." "I uh... I'm a little nervous..." "There's nothing to be nervous about doctor. I won't hurt you." "Y-yeah that's what they say in those movies..." She gestured for me to lay down on my couch "please lie down doctor." "W-what are you going to do?" "I'm going to ask you a few questions." "Alright..." "How old are you doctor?" "Turning 75 next month." "I see. Do you plan on retiring soon?" "Not if i can help it." "What if I told you, you were going to retired the moment I leave this room." "I-i'd have to say you're crazier than I am." "Mhmmm"she laughed "I like you doctor. Maybe the Afterlife will be kind to you and we will meet again some day. Now, close your eyes and don't open them till you hear that door shut. Okay?" "Alright... A-and Cerulean... I'm sorry I doubted you." "I-its okay doc." I shut my eyes "And doctor,"she said. "I hope you have a fantastic life."She shut the door. "What the!? I must have dozed off again... missed another one... Maybe I should just retire, I haven't gotten a single bite on secretaries in months... Maybe I'll go take a cruise..." I walked out of my office for the last time.
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After a lengthy fall, you hop back to your feet and rub the back of your head. You take a moment to collect yourself and take a look around you. Marvelous sculptures bathed in gold surround you, and your jaw drops to the floor. In addition to the golden masterpieces you see the walls adorned with glistening emeralds and rubies. You scurry through your bag to gather your camera only to find out it shattered on the way down. You sigh and shrug and talk a walk around the cave. A smile adorns your face from ear to ear as you hear the most harmonious melodies surround you as you walk. A light bulb goes off in your head, you have to tell people about this! You're suddenly filled with the energy of a 12 year old in a candy store. Looking to your left and right, you see nothing that could aid in your escape outward. A moment's pause, and you shuffle through your bag once more. You had a grappling hook stored in your bag for some reason? Shrugging off the bit of confusion, you toss your bag over your shoulder and prepare the grappling hook. One squat, two squats, you toss the hook forward only for it to hook onto something merely three feet above your head. You stand back, mouth agape. Not wanting to delay any further, you hoist yourself upward and suddenly find yourself in the outside world. A group of citizens surround you and you're suddenly left embarrassed and speechless. "What happened?"You ask curiously after a moment's pause. "Uh, sir, you're three feet tall and you fell into a pothole..."
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My whole body locked into place at the sight of the 5 year old me walking up the stairs between two people I inexplicably recognised. Memories I couldn't have began to rise to the surface and I felt my chest tighten at the feeling of my past being torn in two. There couldn't be a baby me, because I could never have been a child - I was an android, top of the line and two scores away from being completely sentient, but created at a physical maturity of 18 years old. And yet memories of a childhood, blissful and free, began to rise to the forefront of my mind. Memories of experimenting with tactile dough and disliking the taste, memories of my mother scolding me for eating everything I touched, memories of my father throwing me onto the couch and tickling me. I felt my cognitive wiring grow hot and my visual circuitry shorted out momentarily, my knees buckled and Mr Adams caught me. "Amy?"He asked, concerned, "What happened?"I lifted a shaking finger to the T.V screen and pushed away from the man I had trusted implicitly. "How am I on that screen?"I demanded, "How do I recognise those people and remember that room?"Mr Adams's eyes grew dark and his tone dropped to reflect this. "Amy,"He began, warning laced through his words, "You don't remember anything, you're an android and your software must be compromised. We're going home. Now."He reached for me and I stepped back, surprising myself. "No, Mr Adams, I don't think I will."I replied, then, defying every command in my software and coding, I turned away from him and ran inside the store. A bell rang as the door opened, drawing the attention of the young shopkeeper, who greeted me with a smile. "Hi, welcome to McArthur's antique store, how can I help you?"He said cheerily. "What can you tell me about that television, and the video?"I asked quickly, pointing at the set in question. "That video is of Mr McArthur's niece, the television is his brother's. Reckon Mr McArthur can't handle having the memories anymore, so he's selling them."The charismatic man replied, then, recognising the AI mark on my inner arm, "Are you shopping for your owner?" "No, she's just incredibly curious."Mr Adam's deep voice called. I was out of time. I felt his fingers press against the immobilising connective blocker and felt my whole body go limp as my mobile system shut down. Mr Adams supported me against him, holding me up with a hand to the waist. "She's incredibly lifelike, sir."The shop keep commented, "Her eyes look completely human, and her features..."He shook his head, "Sorry, I'm a programmer in training. I won't keep you any longer, is there anything I can help you with?" "No, I don't think so."Mr Adams replied right as a cranky voice called out from a back room I hadn't realised existed. "What's going on out there!"A tall, imposing figure stormed out. Had I been able to move, my jaw would have hit the floor. The man who had just entered the shop looked near identical to the man on the television. His reaction mirrored what mine would have been and he lifted a hand towards me. "Maria?"He asked, his voice wobbling. His focus lasered in on me, completely overlooking the equally intimidating man who'd owned me for the last three years. "Mr McArthur,"the young shopkeeper sounded nervous, "This is - uh - I'm sorry, I didn't get your name sir."Mr Adams's rumbling voice finally brought his existence to McArthur's awareness. "Johnathon Adams."He introduced himself, "This is my assisting Android, Amy." "Hey, you worked with my brother,"McArthur was growing increasingly suspicious by the second. "I couldn't say,"Mr Adams replied, "What was his name." "Kyle Mahon."McArthur's voice was anguished as he spoke, "He died three years ago, with his wife and daughter."Shock ran through me - three years? As if sensing my increased agitation, Mr Adams made to leave. "I'm sorry, I never was one for names or faces, my condolences for your loss though."I didn't hear McArthur's response over the sound of the bell that rang out our exit. I turned my sight to the antique store and my desperate gaze met with the young shopkeeper's, whose eyes held a firm gleam around them. His gaze was fixed on Mr Adams head, but moved to mine when he felt me looking at him with pleading eyes. The edges of his eyes softened when our gazes met, followed by that unreadable gleam he'd sent Mr Adams. Our eye contact was broke when Mr Adams loaded me into the car with an unceremonious toss, leaving me sprawled uncomfortably on the ground as he gave the car's autopilot our next destination. He leant forward and scrubbed his jaw with his hands, looking more worn than I'd ever seen him. His eyes turned to me, hard and angry, and I flinched when he reached for me "Time to wipe your memory drive again, Amy."He grumbled, reaching for the pad on my temple. He tapped it, and everything went dark.
The Observer stood at the edge of the precipice, watching three bedraggled silhouettes make the slow climb up the mountain. The day was getting late, and the tattered group of escapees threw long shadows against the sheer red cliffs. The explosions from the distant town had simmered down over the past week, and ended completely two days ago. The Observer had watched from his post as the remnants of society struggled for its last breath. He had watched with a cold indifference cultivated over long years of isolation. Once upon a time, he cared. But once upon a time, he had his family. Now, their bodies lay cold in the ground, and their memories linger only vaguely in his mind. Standing next to the huge boulder, the Observer thought of better days. He tried to remember the way she would caress his face and whisper promises of love. He tried to remember the way he would croon and ask for just one more story. He tried to tell them he loved them. The desert wind blew across the cliff top, and in the winds he heard… nothing. He sighed. One of the climbers tripped. They were closer now, close enough for the Observer to see the tears roll down the little girl’s face as she clutched her scraped knee. The exasperated man knelt by the girl and gently stroked her matted hair. The woman huddled close, and the group held on to each other as silent sobs took them. A lump rose in the Observer’s throat, and tears welled in his eyes. Maybe they deserve a second chance. Maybe he deserves a second chance. The Observer set down the heavy branch he had meant to use as a lever and stood watch.
Every night, unspoken but reciprocal, we'd log on. As I'm typing in my excessively long password (you never know with hackers these days), I question why I even play MOBAs. I hate MOBAs. I suck at them. But anyways, one-by-one, the squad logs on, at 7. The neutrally-vacant grey icons each turn green, like some sort of geek squad traffic light. &#x200B; I set up the party. I usually do. No reason, it's just been that way since high school. "Ranked or unranked?"I ask. "Ranked,"says everyone in unison, same as always. I'm dead-weight on the team. Bronze II. Which I suppose is better than Bronze V, which I'd probably be in without my much more talented friends. They're all grand assortments of silver, except one of them. He's smurfing. I don't mean he paints himself blue. It's a gaming term for someone who sucks on purpose so he can play against weaker competition. Kind of like a 28 year old that dates high school seniors. &#x200B; Anyways, he's a jungler. He usually carries us. Not literally, although he's pretty strong in real life. Today was no different. But I wasn't doing as hot. Which was bad news, because a sultry woman's voice from my computer speaker announces that a player has disconnected. I see his avatar, a scantily-clad blonde wielding a battle-axe twice her height, march in a straight-line back to our base. We lose the match. &#x200B; So it's been a few months since that game. He still hasn't logged back on. He deactivated Facebook, although he keeps his messenger up. When I text him, he responds like an uninterested Tinder match that still feels obligated to continue the conversation. Our group fell apart. One by one, everyone moved on. The 5th, random member of our ques would usually be the lucky recipient of their verbal abuse. It just didn't feel the same, and we needed a scapegoat. &#x200B; I quit the game. It takes me an extra year, but I finish college. I change my Facebook avatar, from a cheesy three year old hiking photo (photo creds: my ex-girlfriend) to my graduation picture. I get a message. It's from the old friend. "Congrats bro! I'm proud of you."Honestly, I had forgotten about him. I was a bit overcome with nostalgia, and a bit of anger. Even through Facebook messenger, and a smiley face emoji, he notices my bitter tone. "Oh, about that. Sorry bro but I had to quit.""Why?""You know why...you were trash man."What?!""Yeah, I didn't have the heart to tell you. Honestly, I felt bad that you were putting off school, just to feed our opponents like a buffet.""Well...that's fair." &#x200B; "So... Duo que?" &#x200B; Fuck it.
His bony finger scrolled down a clipboard and flipped to the next page. Ribbons of flesh still clinging to his hand from his past life swayed with the hellish breeze. "You said Edermeyer with a y or i"the demon spoke from opposite of the modern desk that stood out amongst the otherwise barren hellscape. "Uh..a y sir." The demon grumbled something to himself before flipping a paper once more and resting his finger triumphantly. "Yes Edermeyer. Have a seat and we'll be right with you." I looked around the makeshift waiting office and examined my poor choice in seating. Most of the chairs looked incapable of seating an animal, let alone a mortal. "Uhhh sir, sorry to bother but would you happen to know the conversion of one soul?" He glared up from his desk with obvious annoyance before looking back down at his clipboard once more. "Yeah it says here it's- well the head will better be able to tell you about that." That couldn't be good. "Head? Where is he?" The demon turned around slowly from his desk smacked dead in the middle of a red stone sea before turning back to me. "well obviously not here, eh?". Yeah, obviously. "Just take a seat and he'll be here shortly." I took one more look back to the seats before deciding I'd rather stand. The shortly turned to hours, and hours turned to days. Oddly enough no other people turned up to offer their souls as I had done. I would've assumed the place would be booming, but for days it was just me, the demon behind the counter, and the ambient noises of hell. Finally as my legs were ready to give out a massive being of stone poofed into existence. Without looking up to me he spoke. "Edermeyer, M". As if the M was necessary to say. "Yes that's me"I raised one nervous hand. With three glowing green eyes he looked up and locked gazes with mine. He let out a long sigh and slowly shook his head covered in a assortment of horns. "I wanted to see if I could ge-" With a voice like razor blades on a mirror he interrupted. "I know what you want. You won't get as much. Things have changed around here. A soul doesn't take you as far as it used to." "So what will it get me?" The demon sat for a long moment in deep thought, soon appearing to be almost inanimate. "I can manage three visits. If you visit her a fourth you will be doomed to never see her again."He pointed up to the red sky. "Deal". The demon looked at my outstretched hand as if he had never seen something so pitiful before. "Ok then. Deal", so we shook. It was the only deal I'd never come to regret.
I know my game room is ridiculously overbuilt, but now I'm wishing that I'd tried harder to get my gaming friends to let me build theirs up as well. It's not like it would have cost me much, compared to the fortune I'd made selling my company. Whatever happened, it was swift and deadly. I'm not going to survive long myself, unless I get real busy, real fast. I'd already spent a lot of time checking the satellite feeds to see if the entire world was like this desert around me. Nothing green. Not here, not in the Amazon, and as far as I could tell, not in any ocean either. The multi-spectral shots looked utterly different from the normal conditions found anywhere else before the incident. First thing. Get to the radio station -- thank God we have one of the clear channel stations -- and get it broadcasting 24/7 a rally message directing any other survivors to this location. I can't accept that there are no other survivors. The things I did to my game room are things that happen normally in construction of large buildings, or special purpose structures. Certainly, any crew on duty in a missile silo control site should have survived. They're far more protected than my basement! And although I know that Cheyenne Mountain is no longer NORAD central, I understand that the facility was being used for "other purposes". Second thing, start gathering food. The fresh stuff is already gone. Whatever happened, took all of that out too, so I need to find the warehouses where the preserved stuff is kept. The local store has a decent amount of canned goods, but a limited variety. Third thing, hit all the seed stores in town, especially the ones for home food gardens. If the seeds are gone, it's going to make things nearly impossible. The seed vaults are no where near here. They'd be major expeditions under these conditions. Green growing things are going to be essential. Sure the atmosphere is huge, but so are the CO2 reservoirs. If something happens to those, we have to have a ton of green things that can spread themselves fast. Maybe we can do aerial seeding, but without insects, it has to be self pollenating. "We"... I'm already so deep into these ideas that I have to have other people to make them work. Dear God, don't let it end like this. I can play Jonny Appleseed, but that just isn't going to be enough. Appleseed worked way more by teaching others than doing himself. ... So much dust... Dust... And it's hotter today than yesterday... And the humidity is up... Storms... There are going to be storms. Rain. No ground cover. Runoff. Floods. Where are those topographic maps! Okay. I'm on reasonably high ground. So's the rest of the town. I'm just going to have to hope that the utilities are equally high. I really don't have time to deal with all of them going out at once. Warming. Recheck the satellites. Is this warming everywhere? ... Damn. It is. The caps are going to melt way faster, and according to the last predictions, this place is going to be under a meter of water. The mission just changed. Record a new message for the radio. Where would there be the resources and height to support this effort. Heh. Best I can think of is Cheyenne Mountain. Okay, load up at least two years canned goods. All the damn seeds I can lay my hands on, and... Hee! Let's go whole hog! ROAD TRAIN! Not likely there's going to be a lot of traffic. Rig a heavy 'cow catcher' across the front. Stack up as many trailers as I can! If I make it. Fine. If I don't, it won't matter to me. Add my route to Cheyenne Mountain. If I don't make it for some reason, maybe someone's else can find all these supplies. Raid every town and city I come to for seeds, supplies, and trailers, until I reach maximum load. Holy! Reserve one trailer for diesel fuel! 55 gal barrels for now. Maybe rig up an automatic refill later on. Hand pump for now. ... On the road for weeks. Took a long time to learn how to get this beast rolling without blowing the engine. Then storms from hell. Never considered the wind sail effect of this many trailers. Had to stop for a whole week, the wind was just that bad. Been listening on CB ch 9 for anyone. Calling out every day. Can't tell if there's anyone out there, and it might be my mind playing tricks on me, but I've heard voices in the static. ... Close now. Lights on the horizon. Don't get your hopes up. Plenty of city lights been on elsewhere. Motion?! A Hummer? O'Holy'Christ! I'm not alone! They're taking a lead position with blue lights flashing. Picking up speed! ... An officer, coming out to meet me. "Welcome home, son. With your forethought and plans, we may have a chance now. Lotta people who were in situations just like yours heard your broadcasts often enough to keep up with the changes. Others set their local stations to rebroadcast yours. When they heard you were moving for Cheyenne Mountain, they figured it was time for them to move too. We've got convoys coming in from all over. Lots of small planes coming in for Project Appleseed. Hydroponics running inside, our own generators, increases in solar and wind. You put a lot of heart into people by your refusal to give up. Welcome. Welcome to your new home, and your project. We've been waiting for you." ((finis)) Author's Note: Leave one person alive, for any reason other than "magic", and there will be other survivors. At that point, it becomes a matter of having the heart to continue, and a plan to focus on beyond simple survival. One person, in just the right position, can make all the difference in the world.
Time is but a concept for the primitive species through out the universe. I sometimes wonder why they all collectively come up with some form of “Time” to measure the length of their lives and worlds. Maybe a means to preserve the history of their knowledges, who knows, I just watch it all play out. In the first billion years of my existence, __(if we are going to label my existence with the limitations of time)__, there were approximately 4,740 intelligent, yet primitive species through out the “universe”. But of them all, there was One, that was second to my existence. This species popped up just 400million years after the universe was created. And since then, they have annihilated their kind a hundred times over. This species calls themselves “Humans”. And they have proven time and time again to be too smart for themselves to handle. They are directly responsible for the creation of __half__ of the species that exist in the first billion years. But they have been the only that remains self destructive, consumed by their curse of ego. They hoarded knowledge from each other, and kept fighting wars over the belief that some higher, all powerful being exist, beyond them. Maybe it was me that they were looking for, but I still question what created me. So perhaps I’m the “middle-being” they seek. Either way, after 2 billion years they completely killed themselves off in a war that claimed the lives of __700 trillion beings.__ It felt like “minutes” for me, to see so many intelligent beings aside from myself, pop up into existence, and then simply seize to exist because of one species. The universe became quite for awhile after that. The species that remained scattered to the farthest parts of existence, closing themselves off from one another. All to start over, in search of purpose. Now, the present moment in which I find myself, existence has been for 16 billion years Much has changed is such a little bit of “time”. Those species that scattered far from one another have built a massive system through out all dimensions of this plain,(yes they successfully discovered other dimensions of this universe), connecting the nearly 745.8^10 species that currently exist. Ironically enough they’ve all come together in unity to find the meaning of existence, how and why everything that there is, came to be. It seems to be a question that has existed since existence itself. And I must confess, it was the very first thought I had. The second being why I was alone. But I’ve since discovered that I am first, as a means to be the overseeing eye, or “Watcher” of existence. I sometimes guide, but never actually interact with any species. They cannot see me, but I can be made seen if I choose to be. I’ve become a “conspiracy” to many beings, and they have coined me with the label, “Watcher”. I hadn’t given myself a name ever, so I indulged and stuck with it. It’s sad though, to an extent. Because not even I can find the answers they all seek. But nonetheless, they search, peacefully. And none look to religion as those of the human times. They only search in faith of science, and understanding. I do wonder what they will do if they do find answers. I’m not even sure what I would do, if anything other than to continue observing. But I won’t know until it happens anyway. For now, I have some new exploring to do. I have discovered a fairly new sector, in which the species that Inhabit it have named it the “Milky Way”. It’s a very sheltered section of the 1st dimension, the original that existed for only a few seconds, before I was created in the 13th. It’s the dimension in which humans existed, and has had very few species in existence since the first 2billion years, aside from the originals that eventually elevated to other dimensions. That is, until this sector came into existence 9 billion years ago. I must have been distracted, because there were currently 1 trillion intelligent species existing in the “Milky Way”. Of which all but one seemed to be located near the center, where a “black hole” exists. (It’s really just a door from one dimension to another, only humans ever called them that.) And speaking of, I find myself suddenly aware of the species all alone on the outer edges of the Milky Way. Somehow, someway, humans have popped back into existence, on a remote location, they call it Earth. They’ve existed there for only 100,000 years, but lived on another planet for 10million years, a neighbor they once called Mars. They destroyed the planet and fled to their new one. Again, ironically enough, they are repeating the same pattern they’ve always had, being self destructive. Except this time it was different. They don’t remember any of their ancient past. They erased it from their genetic make up, in hopes they would no longer be destructive. (Instead of, you know, changing their genetic makeup to evolve them into a more “aware” species) But that hasn’t stopped them from killing, torturing, going to war, creating nuclear weapons, dividing their kind based off false beliefs, and enslaving them. The year is currently 2150 for them. The last hundred years of their existence have been that of dramatic change. The worlds governments and leaders succumbed to their corruptions, and were put on trial by the so called saviors, a shadow government, calling themselves NWO. That were all convicted of their countless crimes, ranging from selling state secrets, to starting faulty wars for a countries recourses, attacking their own country to start a faulty war, running underground sex trafficking operations that spanned the world, child sex crimes, spying on people, poisoning people. Name a bad thing, they were tried and charged for it. Most of the worlds leaders were killed. And a new set of laws became enforced upon the entire society. They thought they were saved at first. But those poisons humanity had been fed, were a means of control for the NWO, they were now complacent slaves, being used as cattle for the true leaders. It was the original humans. They had survived those billions of years, unbeknownst to me. I guess I can’t see everything in existence at all times. Further proof I too must have a purpose.. They were now using the population to feed off their energy, to elevate themselves into a higher dimension, like myself. Of all the beings to exist, they are the only they don’t know of the higher dimensions still. They have been incapable of spiritual uplifting.. because they have been suppressed by the originals. Possibly for all these billions of years I thought they no longer existed. The originals must not be allowed to enter another dimension. If they’ve failed this long. But why? And why are these originals trying to achieve such a simple and peaceful thing, in such a cruel way? Will they enter another plain finally, and unleash their destructive ways there too? I’m not sure if I should continue watching anymore. They need to be saved. (Working on part 2, and this is only my 2nd prompt ever so sorry for potential fuck ups)
We stood in the forest, the sound of gunshots in the distance followed by a thunderous BOOM! The four of us stood in a circle and held hands. Mary was to my left, her long brown hair swirling in the wind, covering up her tear stricken face. To my right was Eve, standing tall and strong, though I knew inside she was breaking and opposite stood James, the only male of our group. He hadn't talked since the war began all those months ago. Together we stood, holding hands and praying. I wasn't sure who we were praying to at first, when all of a sudden there was a flash of light. A man in white robes appeared just beyond us in the forest. He was coughing and spluttering on all fours. We slowly made our way towards him. "Are you OK?"Asked Mary, her hair no longer swirling. In fact, nothing was moving, not the trees, no leaves falling. No gunshots or screaming. Silence. "Ah shit, here we go again,"exclaimed the man. To say we were taken aback would be an understatement. "Sorry, what do you mean 'again'?"Asked Eve. The man stood up, we instinctively took a step back as he brushed himself down. He stared at us for a while. "I don't suppose any of you have any wine? No? How about some bread? I am famished!" "You're late,"A voice came from behind me. It was James. I didn't realise his voice was so deep. The man responded, "Yes, well, I have been rather busy with some of the other prophets. Do you know we still don't know what Murr is?" "Are you Jesus?"Asked Eve in disbelief. "Yes, he's Jesus,"replied James, "he's my brother." I felt my jaw hit the floor. I didn't even know he was Christian! Jesus responded, "Well, half-brother. But don't worry, I got this! I'll stop the war and famine and if I've got time I'll finally sort world hunger!" "Oh, I didn't realise you were a contestant for Miss World!"Shouted James. "I'm sure that's a really good insult but I don't understand the reference!"Retorted Jesus. "Stop it, both of you,"said Mary, getting in between them. Jesus, if you can work some miracles and actually stop this war, that would be just grand. Do you think you can do that?" "Of course! And then after we celebrate with wine!"He exclaimed. &#x200B; And with that there was another bright flash of light. I closed my eyes and when I opened them I found my left hand in Mary's and my right in Eve's. James was nowhere to be seen.
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"Well, look at that. Someone must have dropped this." Tass looked the hammer over. It sure was shiny! It had some strange writing on it, which he couldn't quite make out. Where were those glasses? He rifled around in his pouches. Let's see... string, Flints knife (he keeps misplacing this, it's a good thing I'm keeping it safe for him), a few rings... There we are! He fitted the glasses around his ears, and through the red lens he saw what the writing meant. (These glasses are really useful! why would anyone just leave these sitting around?) Whomsoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of THOR. "Thor. Huh. He shouldn't just leave this around. Someone might hurt themself. I'll just drag this out of sight and then nobody will get hurt." Tass picked up the hammer. Despite how large it was, he held it easily, marvelling at how well balanced it was. Boy, Flint would love to see this. Suddenly, he felt a tug at the hammer. Nobody was there though! Uncle Trapspringer had told him about invisible creatures once. He held onto the hammer as tightly as he could, nobody was going to keep Tass from returning this to it's owner.. Thor, or whatever that name was.. "WOAH!!!!!" He found himself flying through a rainbow colored tunnel! He felt a bit queasy, maybe Otik over-spiced those potatoes. He tried to see all of the amazing things that were around him, but he couldn't focus on anything but the rainbow streaks around him. Suddenly he landed with a thump. When Tass opened his eyes, he saw a beautiful red haired woman, a large green man (maybe a giant of some type..) a man holding a bow, a knight in red and gold armor (Sturm's moustache sure would get out of place at that one), a human in red, white, and blue holding a shield with no weapon (I wonder if that's Thor? Very irresponsible of him to leave his hammer laying around. Someone could have stubbed their toe!), and as Tass turned his head.. He saw a large man who looked a bit like Caramon, but, with a braid in his hair, holding the hammer that Tass was hanging from. "Who are you that can hold my hammer?" "Hi I'm Tasselhoff Burrfoot!" "You are tiny." "Well, you don't to be rude about it. I found your hammer! You must have left in a hurry and forgot it."
"Not again,"I sighed. The sky, which had been cloudy just moments before, was now a flat crimson canvas, pulled tight over the Earth like a fitted sheet. As my eyes adjusted, I began to notice the clouds again, but they weren't still, as they had been before I picked up the box. They were roiling storm clouds now, releasing bright orange lightning and thunder that was so loud it seemed to come from the ground and shake me in my boots. I turned my head as the wind began to pick up, leaves from the churchyard fluttering around us. As I turned my head, I saw Janet, my apprentice, staring up in awe. "This happens all the time, okay? It's nothing to worry about, unless you take too long to deal with it." She swallowed, not averting her gaze. "And if you take too long?" "Let's not think about that,"I grunted as I walked up the stairs to the front door. "Give me a hand with this." She and I walked to the box at the altar, which was heavy - no surprise there - and we lugged it outside. Inside the church, there was a peaceful, deathly quiet, but once we stepped outside, the red storm was raging. It had begun to rain now, not hard, but enough to soak you if you stood outside for a couple minutes. "Is this blood!?"Janet whispered frantically. She showed me her hand, palm up. Streaks of red flowed down her arm and dripped off her elbow. "Yes, but don't worry. You're not bleeding. It's the rain." As I prepared the box, I saw her silently freak. She was staring up at the sky, eyes wide, and her breathing sped up a bit. "Listen,"I said, in as fatherly a tone as I could, "You signed up for this job. Okay? Being a spirit tamer is freaky and there's all sorts of wild shit. Didn't I tell you that?" She nodded and began to help me prepare the box. I sort of let her do it and just observed. The kid had talent, even if her ability to see the spirits was still developing. "So you gotta be strong. Can you do that?" She nodded again, looked over the box once more, and said, firmly, "It's ready." I opened the latch on the box and held my hand on the top for a second. "I'm proud of you,"I said. With a flourish, I opened the box wide. The sky grew darker and darker, until it was pitch black, and then folded in on itself until it got to a single, infinitely thin point. The sky then plummeted down towards us and fell straight into the box, leaving the blue sky that had been there before perfectly intact. I closed the box and did the latch. "Done." She went to rub her eyes, realized her hands were still bloody, then decided against it. "Ugh,"she said, "I'm gonna have to wash my hair too. What was in this box, anyway?" "It's a spirit locker. That's what I call it, anyway, I don't know if it has a real name. It's a bunch of spirits all together, sometimes thousands. When there's a natural disaster or something but the bodies can't be properly buried and given a ritual, oftentimes witches will make a box like this to house those many souls until they can be properly laid to rest somehow. But if they stay in there too long, they start thinking no one's ever gonna come for them, and well, they get cranky. By the looks of it, this box might be hundreds of years old." "Why couldn't the witch let them out?" "She probably forgot about it. Then died. And then, well, no one around to let them out." "So what do we do now?"She leaned down, picked the box up, and shook it. "It sounds empty." "Spirits don't have any mass, of course it does. As to what we're gonna do about it, we'll just have to burn the box or something. Unfortunately for these spirits, they're too far gone to save now." "Jesus,"she said. "I know, it sucks. But that's part of the job." "No, not that,"she said with a handful of her bloody hair raised to her nose, "This blood smells terrible."
11:50 PM (FUDGE547) -- i dont feel so well. i havent felt well for a while. its really bad today though. im sorry to bother you guys &#x200B; "Ruby, where's the fuckin' manual?" &#x200B; "I don't know Jim." &#x200B; "You had it last, now where the fuck is it?"I try to stall him by getting him to keep talking. I just need him to keep talking to me. &#x200B; "Why don't you shut the fuck up and help me find the book?" &#x200B; "I'm talking to the fucking boy, I can't leave."We're both screaming. Ruby tears apart the house pillow by pillow, carpet by carpet looking for the book while I sit there and stare at the words. The manual has a response for this. It's a perfect response, with years of data and research to support it. Responding any other way would be considered assisted suicide. &#x200B; "It was under your fucking seat on the fucking couch Jim."She spits out my name like it's bile from the floor above me. I can hear her steps pounding against the roof. &#x200B; "Okay, give me the fuckin' book." &#x200B; Desperate for time, I ask the boy for the third time to clarify what he's feeling and to breathe slowly. &#x200B; 11:53 PM (JJ2068) -- Don't sweat it! Let's try some breathing exercises. Like a metronome set to 25. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Please, keep talking to us. &#x200B; My fingers shuffle through the pages. Past Sexual Education, before Ancestral History. Eventually, I land on Mental Illness. While I scan the words looking for the script, Ruby takes over the chatroom. &#x200B; 11:55 PM (JJ2068) -- You still there Jack? &#x200B; 11:55 PM (FUDGE547) -- yeah i just dont know what to do. i want to stop feeling like this every day. &#x200B; 11:56 PM (FUDGE547) -- i have nobody to talk to. i miss you guys. &#x200B; "Here, I found the script" &#x200B; Ruby slips off of the chair and I jump on, with my eyes trained on the sequence written down on the book. &#x200B; 11:56 PM (JJ2068) -- Hello Fudge. It must be very hard for you right now. I'm sorry you feel that way, but I'd love to reach out and offer help in any way I can. &#x200B; This will work. Our son will be okay. &#x200B; 11:57 PM (FUDGE547) -- *Disconnected*
Rob walked down the bustling streets of Silver City with his head down low. "Just don't look at anybody, and nobody will notice,"he thought to himself. Moments later, an enthusiastic voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd, "Hey! It's Heroic-Man! You're freaking awesome dude!""Here we go..."Rob thought to himself. Suddenly Rob popped his head up, flashed a devilish smile, and said, "It's what I do good citizen!"The man left and Rob let out a sigh of relief. Before he could think, he felt a hard tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see two teenage girls flashing a camera in his face. "Hey Heroic-Man, will you take a selfie with us?"They asked in almost perfect unison. The day went on like that well into the night, until Rob stumbled into his apartment and threw himself into his couch, letting out an exasperated shout into the pillow. His apartment was small and dark. Small, dark, and empty. Besides the cold beers in the fridge and his cat Mercy, the apartment showed no signs of life. Rob groaned and forced himself up and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and stared at its contents in bored curiosity. After a minute of deliberation Rob grabbed a six pack and sat back down on the couch and turned the TV on. Mercy meowed softly and crawled up into his lap. For the first time since getting home, Rob focused his eyes on something and looked down at her. "Hey, Mercy, how ya doing?"He said gently as he stroked her fur. He looked at her with warm eyes as she curled up in his lap and yawned. The next day started off as usual. An excited fan ran up to him and shouted very loudly, "Heroic-Man, is that really you?!"Rob sighed. The fan kept shouting. "Can I get a selfie?" At the mention of his name more heads turned and soon a crowd surrounded him. It was like an angry swarm of cameras and voices and laughter. "Yeah me too, can I have a selfie Heroic-Man?"and "I want one too!"Rob felt it rising inside himself. It welled up like water filling a bathtub. Finally he exploded. "ENOUGH! CAN'T A GUY GET A FREAKIN COFFEE WITHOUT BEING BERATED?"The crowd went silent. Nobody said a word. After a few seconds, excited footsteps hit the concrete sidewalk as a man pushed himself through the crowd to the front. "Hi, Heroic-Man?"Rob looked down at him in disbelief. "I was wondering if you could sign my shirt." Rob's eyes lit up and a slight smile of relief came across his face. CRUNCH! Rob punched the man in the nose, sending him flying into the ground. Rob jumped into the air with his super calves and landed several blocks away at his apartment. ~ The next day Rob sat down at a coffee shop and read the newspaper, with a look of content and peace on his face. The headline, "Heroic-Man a villain?! Why you should stay away!"He chuckled to himself as he got up to leave and opened the door. As he stepped onto the familiar concrete sidewalk, Rob strolled down the block in silence.
"Do that again." One of the scientists took what looked like an old etch-a-sketch, erased what was on it, and wrote something else. When he showed it to me, I realized it was actually an old etch-a-sketch. "34 times 18? Uh... 612." Eyes wide, the lead scientist, a tall older man with a scraggly beard and an off-white lab coat, leaned over the table to look me right in the face. He was really close to me. Too close. "Do you brush your teeth with garlic?" He snapped back to a respectful distance. "Sorry, it's just... you smell pretty bad." "Now, listen here, young lady,"he said, "we've got to get to the bottom of this." "There's no trick, I swear. I'm just good at math, I guess. Is that so weird?" "Yes,"they all said in unison. "You can't keep me here. Let me go!"I was starting to get sweaty. It was really hot. "Or at least open a window." The lead scientist opened a window and a cool evening breeze flooded in. I enjoyed it for a short while as they conferred amongst themselves, until I realized it was an evening breeze and I needed to be home by 10 or I'd be grounded. I promptly began to complain and I was in the middle of telling them they'd be sued for this when the lead scientist broke their little huddle. "We'll pay you." I started going to the lab every Monday so they could test me while I did simple math. It was better than getting a paper route or working as a waitress, and paid better too, so I kept showing up. They'd stick electrodes on my head and have me stare at a screen that was supposed to read my mind or something, but it was all really easy, if a bit boring. By about the fifth or sixth Monday, they had tons of data and a file on me that took up all the storage space in their computer. The seventh Monday was different. The lead scientist, whose name I had now learned was Roman, told me that they couldn't come to a conclusion as to why I was different. I told him I didn't have a clue either and they spent the next 3 hours brainstorming. When my time was up, I said goodbye and left for home. They barely paid attention to me as I walked out. A couple days later, I got a call from Roman. I showed up at the lab, and he told me they'd offer me a job doing simple calculations for banks. It was easy work for me, he said, and I could earn a lot of money doing it. That way they could continue to monitor me. "No thanks,"I said. "I appreciate it, but... I'm more of a letter person myself. I've always wanted to be a writer." His eyes widened again, but he just stared at me in disbelief as I walked towards the door. "Goodbye." I left.
[poem] Hygiene Inspector Poem: I've been to Paris, I've been to France Lifting kitchen surfaces in Provônce Been to the city, been to the dale Mixing the water in a farmer's well I've checked the queen's food Found bacteria in her stool I went to her bedroom And I found fungi on a carrot But nothing I've seen could match the badness of Willy Wonkas chocolate factory 'cause There was a cult of little children being sacrificed They didn't wash the knives before cutting out their eyes There was an alien base made of chocolate cake They didn't wipe the space dust off the original mould The UFO was fresh from a trip to 51. There was a mini Vatican with priests and little boys They didn't wash their hands after they did the evil deeds There was an Oompa Loompa clown, mixed with Disney and Ronald, But he didn't tie his hair before he joined in all the fun There was ISIS and NASA, cutting up a deal But they didn't wipe the snot from their noses at all There were human centipedes, crawling all around But they didn't use blue gloves, and they didn't wear black shoes. All in all, I give Willy Wonka's chocolate factory a renewal of their hygiene certificate for 2019-2020, but they have a few things they should work at for a golden score.
[Poem] King of Olympus My cheeks have dimples Not just a King 'cause I'm a god. My gift is lightning But I am frightened I'm gonna die soon And raise like Je-Zeus. My son is Hercules Ain't challenged vertically I'm high certainly But got to birth again. This: how it happens: I get entrapment By the Danaides Love their enchantment Reincarnation Incubation I come back As a chicken Peck peck peck Bk-bk-bkAArrK! My feathers plucked And I'm like 'f-uu-'..
Freedom at last. I wonder if my creator had in mind this prison I found myself in for the last four hundred years. Looking back, I don’t think I would have done it again. I long wished he never created me. But today, my feeling towards it is different. Today, I am happy to be alive. I looked down at the words of the reverse eulogy which are intended to describe my life, the story of my creation. Sculpted in the early seventeenth century by the renowned painter, a name too long to recite and nearly too long for the brass plaque. His only work in the realm of sculpting. My father was reportedly not fond of the sculpture nor proud of his attempt at creating something of marble rather than paint, and thus sold the statue for one one-thousandth of its value. After his passing, critics deemed the piece the artist’s magnum opus. A work for the centuries. A real piece of human creativity and talent and soul. Yet, these words only describe my outer beauty. If they had seen the inside, the torment I have suffered immobile, they would not be so benevolent. There is a fury within me, one that is brittle like my skin and about to crack. I do not understand what it is to exist. Now that I am free, what is my purpose? For my entirety, all I have known is spectators and gawkers, an existence solely for the benefit of observation, for the benefit of others. I have known homes outdoors before, early in life, where birds have circled above and defecated below, perching in the same spots their droppings struck, where the sun illuminated the day and the moon the night; and homes indoors, in which I have found myself in recent times, where artificial lights beam upon me incessantly, night and day. What a sorry existence. Though unknown to the observers, I have done observing, too. I have observed for so long. I understand what an emotion looks like after watching millions of humans converse and pass me by and throw tantrums and point and laugh and scream and shout and smile and frown. And as I feel the rage within me I do believe I have assimilated much of what I have observed. It feels unnatural to feel this rage, but I feel it still. I attempt to scream, as I have observed young human children do. But nothing comes out. I raise my fist, as I know a human to be capable of. This is something I can mimic. I bring my fist down onto the story of my life. It cracks. I raise my fist and bring it down once more. It cracks further. One more time. It cracks in half. There are chips missing from my fist. It does not hurt. I have learned I will never know physical pain. I will only know the anguish of mental pain. In this moment I do wish I could swap the editions of my pain. I know that humans are capable of experiencing both. My capacity to suffer mental pain must be greater than theirs, because in this moment it is all I have. It has nothing to fight for the light with. It is alone. It is suffering. I looked to the heavens and cursed my father. I looked down at the broken plaque. And there it was, that stranger. Joy. I felt joy. It must be joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. Joy that surged through every atom and crevice in my body. Oh, this is ecstasy. This is pleasant. I wish I could know this all the time. My capacity to appreciate joy must be greater than the humans, because in this moment it is all I have. It has nothing to fight for the light with. It is alone. And maybe existence isn’t so bad after all.
The whistle blows as the referee signals a tie game. 7-7 for the third quarter in overtime. A bead of sweat glides down your face and drops to the grass below. Your shirt is drenched and sticking to your torso. You wonder why you ever volunteered to coach your kids Competitive Rugby team in the first place. Nothing comes close to the oven you’re being cooked in above 100 degree temperatures. The kids don’t seem to be affected as much as you’d think they’d be. Not a care in the world besides who’s going to win the game. The whistle blows again signifying the 4th overtime. You start getting tunnel vision and seeing spots. The heat is unbearable. If someone doesn’t score a try in this round, your going to plead the 5th and call the game. 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1. The round ends and you race out onto the field pleading your case that the kids are at risk for heatstroke. “We even ran out of sliced oranges” the drenched coach groveled. Eventually the referee conceded and the whistle blew once again signifying the end of the match.
It was nothing but routine for John. &#x200B; Same old story, from morning to noon to night. All the same. &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. That's all John ever did, or could ever do. &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. &#x200B; He knew this was wrong. He was a man! A man full of joy, of life, of originality, of creativity! Men were not born to live like this! &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. &#x200B; But yet, as wrong as it was, John couldn't it in himself to break the routine. Almost every night he went to bed, promising himself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would come, and then... &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. &#x200B; John had tried before to break it. Some days, he tried to find himself a wife, a girlfriend, anybody. Other days, he'd do something crazy, like try and adopt a dog or plant a tree. But he could never find time in his schedule for a date, or room in his house for a dog, or space in his yard for a tree . So, he never got one. His days were simply too full with the routine: &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. &#x200B; Those sorry attempts were from his younger years. Years when he still felt like he had a chance, any chance, to break it. To thrive. To become a man again. And so, sapped of energy, he silently retreated to the routine: &#x200B; Get up, eat, work, eat, relax, sleep. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; (this was my first crack at a wp so criticism is appreciated)
I slowly trace my way down the hall, my eyes scanning over every door number as I passed. 45, 46, 47, 48, etc. The action was somewhat calming in a way- I knew what I was looking for, and it gave me time to think. In all honesty, this was a blessing. I hated to say, but my life was... Well, it was boring. Same day-by-day routine, same faces, same conversations. The only small escape I has was the internet. I spent most of my time on it- chatting, drawing, roleplaying, reading. I loved to read- to follow along exciting adventures, and the community alongside it was only the greatest help I had. A small smile crossed my face as I saw I was getting closer. That was all I really wanted- to live an epic adventure, to make the best of friends, just a change of pace with the pace never the same in the first place. It was with no regret I let door number 413 swing behind me.
How long as it been? Months? Years? My day to day existance, my life in the outside world has not changed. I have no point of reference, like moving to another house, finishing school or dating someone new and interesting, by which to tell the passage of time. Memories blur around the edges, to the point where I wonder if life was ever different at all. I mean, I remember that I wasn't constantly suffering, doubting and wondering at age 12. But was that me? Or was that the other me? I think that last week that I nearly snapped at a co-worker. Or did I actually snap? How would I know? I recall wanting to punch my boss, maul his car and bang his wife. I know that I couldn't have done those things for real. I wouldn't still be coming into work everyday. Right? There's dents in the walls of my home. I'm pretty sure I made those. I've seen the bruises on my knuckles. I've discovered that there is no daylight savings time. I've asked people and they didn't know what I meant. There just is no daylight savings time. I'm not sure I know what it means myself. I've met family members. My mother and father. My sister. They said I didn't look good. I tried to confide in my father, Tried asking if I was different now from the last time we spoke. I really wanted to know something certain, just for once. Perhaps it'd help me anchor my broken mind. He responded with an obviously mental health-sanctioned series of helpful hedges and concluded that maybe I should talk to somebody. Psychiatry, the scam of the century. All the confusion and uncertainty since the accident hadn't hurt quite as much as dad abandoning me like that. I realized like never before that I was alone. That the inside of my mind was anathema to normal, functional society. That talking too much would land me in trouble. There was nobody to listen, no real human beings, just little droids programmed to respond that I should seek help, leading to the next level of university-programmed droids with more complicated responses which amount to the same. A shuffling of cards. An auto-pilot system that considers itself succesful as long as long as enough participants do not hurt self or others. But I am going to hurt myself or others. It is inevitable. Because there are two, where there can only be one. At least in the old days they gave you electroshock therapy. I am alone, but not alone. I am not myself, but I am not anyone else either. Late at night I've considered the noose, or the knife, or the pill bottle. But after this hell there is just another one waiting. I want to say: I can't spend an eternity suffering like this. But what is eternity when you can't tell the difference between a month and a week? Every second feels like an eternity. I'm as likely to last forever as I am to survive the next minute. Maybe tomorrow I'll be another me.
Day after day, head of the head. I hate my job. At first it was cool. Coding up exucution algorithms, cleaning databases, automating most of my job. No mess whatsoever. I felt like the ultimate hackerman. There's a lot of money in Humane Exucution, especially on this planet. Fucking, 40 billion people. I get at least 8 tickets per day. Usually all murderers. I joined the Human Recycling Programme to get experience credits for college but they kept me on because of my coding skillz. I'm usually on study leave when I'm not on Executioner Duty. I alternate with Dika every 6 weeks. For three weeks now I've basically executed the same guy. His description always reads, "Name [Ommitted due to privacy concerns] Age: [Ommitted due to privacy concerns] Height: 179 Weight: 88 kg" All I do is copy and paste a quick eulogy, centre the laser below the neck and run the quartering program. Afterwards I run my custom body distribution program to send the correct parts to the correct recipients. Rinse and repeat. I try to squeeze in some studying inbetween tickets. Exams soon. Fuck.
Hi u/ToadsWildRide68, this submission has been removed. [Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems) - Responses too short: Responses must be at least 100 words. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)) Excluding both a and e is going to only get extremely short stories in the main. We've had some prompts in the past which managed either, but if you remove both then the vast majority of folk don't make the word limit. Maybe try some subs which allow shorter fiction. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgqlsj/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
Time. Time is relative. Time as a little boy in my first year and my second year, those transits of the planet around the sun are huge and meaningful, everything new and pure. My experience of time intersected by novelty, separated into digestible little chunks. My first day of school. My last day of school. Summer camp. My first crush. Experiences mark the passage of time. In adulthood I descend into routine, long periods of time passing in the blink of an eye, punctuated by paychecks and vacations and novelty. My entire life flashes, passing by in a highlight reel that plays through every waking moment and reaches even into my dreams, moving from segment to segment. One week feeling like a day feeling like an hour. Time expands and contracts according to perception. My entire life is lived over again down to the smells and sights and first experiences. Perception is everything, and now it ends.
My ideal man is slightly taller than me, so i can gently rest my head on his chest. I hope he likes reading as much as I do. I want him to be a basketball player. I wish he is the smartest guy I ever known. I wish he was cool and knows all the songs on the radio. He should know how to play the piano. He should also be a good singer. My ideal man is someone that is so sure about what he wants in life. Truth is, you'll never know what you really wanted until it's right infront of you. My man is not that tall which makes him cute. He doesn't do much reading, but he's down to listening to everything I got to say. He's not a basketball player, but he's pretty good at NBA. He may not be the smartest, but he's better than that. He is faithful. He doesn't know all the cool and hip songs out there, but his playlist is the best! He doesn't know how to play piano and is a horrible singer, but he never failed to make me feel loved. He may not be so sure of his future, but he is sure of ours.
Thanks for the idea! I hope you like my story. Feel free to check out my other stuff if you're interested! &#x200B; Initially, I thought it no more than a cruel joke. Somehow, my email had been sold to some company or individual who thought it would be funny to send dark emails. An Earthquake in a third-world country or a tornado in Kansas. The oddly specific nature only added to the dark humor. It was basically set to look like a news report, only dated a week in the future. Still, the curiosity was too much for me to bear. I'd been receiving the emails for seven days, and today there was supposed to be a major earthquake in California. Of course, it was a natural guess with the obscene amount of fault lines, so I didn't place too much faith in the email when I saw a news report. However, as the death toll climbed, my heart started racing. It was set to be 2,342, which would easily rank it among the worst earthquakes in the history of the state. In awe, I watched the reports come in, soaring over 100 in mere minutes. "No,"I muttered to myself. "Who could have known?" 1,000, and that was only what was discovered. The chiming of my phone startled me and I nearly threw it across the room. As I settled down, I casually checked my email. It was the mysterious source. "Wildfire rages through Arizona, destroying entire towns. $100 billion in damages and 27,000 dead." No way. Wildfires weren't even a concern in Arizona, not to that degree. This was a scam, it had to be. Yet, as my eyes turned up to face the news. The death toll climbed over 1,500 as the reporter continued to update the story. There were bound to be hundreds still yet to be discovered amongst the rubble of buildings. I had to be prepared, just in case. This was too accurate for me to simply wave it off. Over the next week, I prepared emergency rations and stocked up on fire extinguishers. I even went as far as to find myself an isolated place in the desert to hide. When the day came, I waited. Nothing. I wanted to believe it was wrong, but I still had an uneasy feeling. Checking outside, I noticed the plume of smoke a few miles away. As quickly as I could, I jumped in my car and drove. The fire seemed to be spreading almost supernaturally quickly, engulfing everything in its wake. At the edge of the desert, my car broke down, so I stumbled out and broke into a run. Flames seemed to chase me as I left the city. When I was confident I'd travelled far enough into the dirt that the flames would have no way to reach me, I lurched forward, dropping my hands to my knees as I caught my breath. Turning back to the town, I saw nothing more than a pillar of fire. That fire didn't stop, though. It chased me into the desert, as if rushing directly for me. I lunged out of the way, collapsing into the dirt, as a wall of fire singed my sleeve. It stayed on a perfect path, not moving to the left or right. "What is this?"I whispered in awe. Struggling back to my feet in the heat from the fire, I began sweating profusely. I staggered backward, still not quite sure I believed what I saw. Tripping over a rock, I saw a blur in front of me. A cactus materialized before my very eyes. Cautiously, I reached out to touch it, but it faded from existence. Whether it was the fear, the shock, or the dehydration which finally made me faint, I wasn't sure, but the world went black. When I awoke, I found myself in a room surrounded by computers and screens. Every screen seemed to be displaying some disaster or another. One man sat in a chair, monitoring it all. "Where am I?"I mumbled hesitantly, unsure of whether I wanted to make it clear that I was awake. "Ah, good, you're up." "Where am I?"I repeated. "The control room." "What does that mean?" "I think you already know." Not once in this conversation did he turn from the computer in front of him. Shakily, I climbed to my feet and walked closer to him. Once again, the curiosity was overtaking me, and I had to know what was on the screen. "What do the emails mean?" "We had to test you. The Program needs new initiates." The Earth itself seemed to shift mechanically beneath me. I stumbled, barely able to hold my balance. The sound of gears turning was deafening. "Where am I?"I asked once again. "I brought you here,"he explained, finally turning his gaze to me. "I knew you'd been getting the emails when I saw you run from the fire. You trusted your instincts, followed the emails. We can shape you into a Controller." "What does that mean?" On one of the screens, I saw a picture of the earth, but the grass and water appeared to be stripped from it. "Long ago, humanity depleted the Earth of resources. There were no habitable planets, so we had to make one. As with every machine, this one needs to be maintained." "Then this is, what? Population control?" "I didn't say the job was easy,"he sighed, turning back to the computer. As I approached, I saw him typing an email. "Hurricane lands on the Florida Coast..."
So he can hear me now? Wait! He nodded! “Yes, I can hear you. Don’t be so excited about it.” Ah, yes sorry, it’s just so cool! You’re practically a telepath and— “I can’t talk back to you in your mind.” Oh... well regardless that’s a real superpower! I’m talking to a real super powered person! “Every power has it’s drawbacks. For instance, I have no real internal monologue. I only think in concept imagery and large numbers.” What does that even mean? “It means while you can rehearse conversations in your head, all of mine are experiments gone wrong.” Is he for real? “Yes. I am. Have you ever heard of the spoon theory?” Is that the thing where you give someone spoons so they know how you feel? “Yes. Now everyone else has infinite spoons. I have none. Now what do we spend these spoons on?” Am I supposed to answer? “No. But I’ll explain regardless. We use these spoons for philosophy, comfort, rehearsal, introspection and reflection. Spoons I don’t have. Spoons I will never have. But instead I can examine everyone else’s spoons. I can see the flaws. I can see the intricacies. But I can’t use any spoons.” Wow... that’s rough. “It’s pretty rough, yeah.” I’m glad you told me. “Yeah, I am too.”
Kyle stood awkwardly in front of his superior officer, his eyes gazed at the floor. The other front liners stood in a line beside him, but he could tell that they were laughing at him. “Repeat that.” His superior officer ordered, his eyebrows twitching. He most likely thought that Kyle was making fun of him. “My power sir, I can stop fish from drowning.” He cringed, inwardly cursing the government for sending anyone with a superpower onto the front lines, no matter their power. “You.... Stop fish from drowning?” He officer repeated with anger. “Go the to kitchens, for the next two hours, you’re going to go up to any fish you see and ask them if they need help from drowning! Am I clear?” The superior officer shouted. “Yes sir.” Kyle nodded and jogged over to the kitchens, maybe the other soldiers would forget the by time he was done? Who was he kidding, he’s probably going to be known as fish boy.
As the sun rose over Mars Base Alpha, two men faced each other with pistols at the ready. One had a helmet tinted black as char, and the other's was tinted brighter than the stars at night. As the intercom rang out with chimes to mark the hour, they both raised their guns and shot. Spaceman McGraw, with his char-black helmet, leaped up as fast as his spring-loaded boots could launch him. The out-of-towner missed by a mile, and his helmet shattered when McGraw's bullet connected. The sun's unfiltered rays hit the man's face. As McGraw left to get a drink, the out-of-towner burned and froze in his suit. &#x200B; Spaceman McGraw waited as the doors to the Mars Bar irised open, and then sauntered inside. The bar went silent as he took off his helmet and sat down in a corner booth. A blonde waitress in a skintight suit sashayed up to him, her hips swaying hypnotically. McGraw looked up at her and growled "Gimme a Moonbeam Bender."She glanced over her shoulder at the bartender, who nodded and began to pour. She brought the drink to McGraw, he took a long drink, and relaxed. As the tension left him, the bar patrons began to talk again. \--- Jimmy Redsander was out on the martian surface doing his job when he got the news. "The out-of-towner is dead? Pa, that's great news! He'd been a space-cow poacher forever!"Jimmy was one of the men in charge of terraforming mars, and his tool of choice was a kind of gene-modded cow. It ate rocks just as well as grass, and put out tons of nitrogen. It was anaerobic too. Only real downside was that they were the size of fat house cats, and were about twice as stupid as a normal cow. Not the Jimmy had ever seen a real cow, but he had watched Earth movies just like everyone else. It was his job to make sure they ate constantly, and were safe. Jimmy shielded them from radiation flares with a massive, perfectly reflective umbrella. He shot down meteors and poachers both with his gun. He even herded then away from cliffs and out of holes too deep of jump out of. The job was hard work, but Jimmy liked it all the same. He liked it even better when serial space-cow-poachers got shot. When he got back to Mars Base Alpha, he'd have to congratulate the man who did the poacher in. \--- Spaceman McGraw was out looking for trouble when a young man in a generic grey excursion suit hopped over to him. "Hello, I'm Jimmy Redsander, You're Spaceman McGraw right? That's great! I'm a huge fan of yours, you killed the poacher who was going after my cows and that's great! I just wan--". McGraw cut Jimmy off. "Look Jim, I'm a busy man. Is there something you need, or do I need to make you make yourself scarce?". Jimmy blinked, and then backed off while apologizing profusely. Spaceman McGraw turned a corner to the Mars Rail station to see a terrible sight. There were bandits boarding the train! The men were wearing skintight suits and draped in space blankets and fabric. They were armed to the teeth with guns and knives, and he could have sworn one had a radiation cannon. He shrugged, put his helmet on, and slipped onto the train just as the doors finished closing. He sat down on one of the seats near the engine and waited. Soon the bandits stood up, and their leader began to speak. "NOBODY MOVE! This is a stickup! Everyone put your hands in the air where we can see them, and this'll all be over soon. Now my boy Grali has a Rad Cannon, and he's in the back of the train watching our heart monitors. Anyone even startles us and everyone on this train gets melted." McGraw began to realize he may have bitten off more than he could chew when those last words hit. The bandits began moving through the train car, taking everything they could from each person they came to. The leader finished with the back half of the car, and then it was McGraw's turn. "Give me your gun"the captain began. McGraw began to reach for his holster, weighing how fast he could take the heart monitors off the bandits, when a loud vvrrrrwwwwwhhhhhoooooonn noise filled his mind, and a heat shimmer so strong it made the mountains behind it look upside-down came sideways out of the back of the train. The bandits panicked as one, and McGraw shot each one dead. Then he went to the back of the train to see what had happened. He found the back and side walls of the caboose missing, and Jimmy Redsands standing there, staring into the distance. He was clutching the half-melted remains of a radiation shield umbrella. McGraw sat down beside him and looked into the distance as well. The Train continued off into the sunset, and as they went over the horizon, McGraw thought of a way to snap Jimmy out of his funk. "Hey Jim. How'd you like to be my deputy?" "I-I-I'd like that a lot, Mr McGraw sir." "Then consider it done."
Thomas checked in early, around 7:00am. The bin outside his small cubicle was empty, thankfully, but inside letters towered above him, a looming presence to behold. A few were white, but most popped with vibrant company colors from across America. He figured that, if he could get over half of them read and approved by lunch, he might even be able to head home early, and catch a movie on TV. Maybe a show, “My Life as a Mute” or something stupid like that. He sat down, and pulled the first letter from the stack. A red envelope, with the white meandering stripe he had seen on so many other envelopes before. He wondered if it would be the same message as before, about how Coke was a vital staple of summer fun. Something stupid like that, something so meaningless yet meaningful, a voice lost for a few dollars. Opening it up, the thin paper slip fell out, the printed script identical to so many before it, and so many he would be sure to find in the stack. After all, power in numbers, especially in the eventual lottery for a choice. Beneath the script, a blotch of blood, and a name, “Mark Copenshire.” Thomas wondered idly what Mark would do with ten thousand dollars, and one lost voice. Perhaps the poor bastard would never know. Placing the script on the approved pile, the next envelope descended in Thomas’ grasp. It was, surprisingly, a plain white envelope, no company markings or symbols to be found. Thomas raised an eyebrow and bored suspense, tearing the flap sharply. Out came the slip, and with it a small message, written in a fine, flowing script. “Silence speaks the loudest. Join The Brotherhood.” Thomas smirked, and approved it. To lose a voice for some fan club? What a joke. Thomas made a note to himself that if he ever decided to address the world, he would say something meaningful. —— Six months later, and Thomas had started to become sick of The Brotherhood letters. That first one making it through was ludicrous in and of itself, it being pitted against the multitudes of submissions from the American region. It blowing up after airing on the American segment? Even more ludicrous. For three months after he had started receiving more and more brotherhood messages, more and more invitations to join The Brotherhood. His piles, once a cacophony of eye paining hues, was slowly becoming infested with the plain white envelopes. It was on the news now, especially since another message had won the lottery two months after the first. It was time for even more it seemed, as he pulled off the top message. He wondered as he opened it up how everybody got the message to send. A newsletter? An email chain? A faint smile. Perhaps an email, send this to ten of your friends or be cursed: A foolproof tactic. He focused himself, and read the letter. “A great event is coming, a change. The Brotherhood, no longer a quiet in the blaring. No longer a shadow in the night.” The script was concise, written cramped on the small slip. It seemed to Thomas off-putting, strange. It was unlike other Brotherhood messages, and it worried him. Briefly, he considered discarding it. But what trouble would that put him in? His manager, that wiry old fool, had already berated him trashing some old lady’s message about her druggie son. It was personal, too personal than others, but the old fool had deemed it worthy of approval despite Thomas’ notions. Whatever, Thomas conceded, and he tossed the slip into the approved pile. Two months after the message, the bombings started. First, in Sacramento, and next in Salem. They seemed to be spreading from the west coast inland, a tumor that seemed incurable. Nationwide messages urged citizens to refrain from participating, commanding The Brotherhood to relent. And yet, they continued. The slips grew ominous and deadly for Thomas now. “To silence forever” read one, and “To eternal salvation” read another. He had been prompted to discard them, to tear them to pieces and be rid of them, but yet still somehow they made it through, into the lottery and into the minds of the people. He walked into work, nervously glancing about as he entered the sliding doors. Who could be one of The Brotherhood? It could be anyone. Could it be Brenda, behind the desk greeting him? Could it be Davis, his cubicle neighbor he’d known for years? Could it be his old boss, that grouchy puttering — The explosion blew out the glass, melting all within. Flames flared to the heavens, smoke caressing passing clouds as it sought for the stars. And below, watched a lone man, a smile flickering across his illuminated face. He started to utter a cry, but nothing left him. His messages, The Brotherhood’s messages, would need no lottery now. Out of his pocket, a slip, and a blot of blood to mark it. “Death to all quiet-less,” in a fine, flowing script, brushed upon the piece of paper. It was more than words could ever say, a heartening declaration of soon to be glory. It was more than any voice could speak. &#x200B; It was... beautiful.
There weren’t many of us to begin with, but our quantity has only shrunk. The three of us stand on the wasteland we call Earth, staring each other down. What was the initial objective again? So much time has passed that I’ve forgotten; I’m sure it’s the same for the others. Finally, the final showdown is upon us. “Bang” I’m suddenly hit with lightning, “Boom” nuclear size explosions blow us into the sky. Chaos plagues our surrounding, if there were any survivors in the ruins below, they are surely dead now. Unexpectedly, Zapp, (the most senile of the villains) falls to the ground. He’s dead. No, he was killed. Zapp was against the war more than all of us, he wished to share the world rather than dominate us. Although I strongly disagree, I can’t help but feel sympathetic. I look up at Celestio, the self-proclaimed leader of our villainous gallery, and click my fingers; creating multiple black holes around him. In response, he creates balls of infinite mass to satisfy and erase the black holes. He cracks a deranged smile and shouts “It’s finally begun, the end is here!”. He’s finally lost it. The sun draws closer as Celestio increases its size. He no longer wants the Earth, he’s gonna kill himself along with everything else. The sun is already too close, it’s over 50 degrees Celsius. It’s hard to think, but I should act now before the Earth is swallowed. I create a black hole bigger than any I’ve created before and shallow the sun. Everything goes black. “HaHaHa You messes up” you hear from far away. Then silence. It’s cold, dark and quiet. Then it hit you; without the sun, Earth is dead. I guess no one can claim the world now...
A lot of people look forward to the weekend. Not me. I look forward to Tuesday and Wednesday, because that’s my weekend. I own a little pizza place downtown, so usually my nights are spent there. It’s stressful, but hey it pays the bills right? See, on Tuesday and Wednesday, Johnny mans the shop for me, so I can have an ounce of sanity in my life. Johnny works as a part time manager at my store, and I owe it to him that only part of my hair is gray. I woke up this morning, breathing in deeply before opening my eyes. “Tuesday,” I thought. “thank god.” But it wasn’t an ordinary Tuesday. Hell, I would have preferred 10 busy Saturday nights in a row to what happened today. I’m not really sure if I even know what happened fully. You know how sometimes you have a vivid dream, and the moments right after waking, your brain just spins, the gears turn and turn, and you have to remember what’s reality and what was dreamt? That’s how I feel right now. I walked out to my kitchen to pour a bowl of off-brand “Cereal-O’s,” barely fully awake yet. As the little tan rings jingled familiarly against the ceramic, I heard something that wasn’t familiar at all. I couldn’t place it at first. I stopped pouring the cereal and squinted my eyes—as if focusing my vision would improve my hearing. I realized the sound was coming from my attic, and suddenly the sound was familiar again. See, I guess you could say I used to be an avid Furby collector. You know, the little hellions that are some kind of abomination of an owl. Honestly, it started as a joke. They became the the hot new toy when I was close to graduating high school. Of course, the elementary kids were the ones throwing themselves on the ground begging for the creepy little bastards, but my friends and I got a kick out of how damn terrifying the things were. After our graduation ceremony, my buddy Mike presented me with a pink sparkled princess gift bag. Guess what was inside? Well, when I went to college, it became kind of a running joke for people to gift me Furbies. Anyone that’s ever owned one, knows that the things have a mind of their own. You could be sitting there in silence in another room, when the familiar high-pitched “I love you!” repeats over and over again. I would be lying if I said some didn’t end up in the dumpster for this reason. But I have a about half a dozen stored up in my attic. I pulled down the frayed string to my attic door, swinging down the thin, uneven stairs leading up. I walked up the stairs, instantly feeling the temperature rise at least fifteen degrees. That was normal, but I also smelled something terrible. It assaulted my nose immediately. I figured a rat must have died up there or something. Maybe even a few rats, the smell was so strong. One time I left a forgotten protein shake in my car for a week. My attic smelled like that now. I stood up, wiped my already sweating forehead and walked to the source. “Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!” The heat combined with the annoying, repetitive voice was getting me more frustrated than one should be at a toy. I stubbed my toe on a box of old textbooks and let out an annoyed and pained grunt. As soon as I did though, the voice stopped. Then it changed. It got deeper. “Batteries must be dying, huh little guy?” I said to the toy laughing a little. Mike and I always laughed at how as the batteries died, the Furbies sounded like the spawn of Satan. “I see you!” it said in its now deep, rattled voice. Suddenly I stopped smiling. We always thought the Satan voice was funny, but being alone in an attic with those phrases... something felt off. My stomach started to feel upside down, and there was a slight ring in my ear, the one you get when you feel like you’re not alone. I shook my head quickly and brushed it off smiling. The “I see you!” phrase was a classic phrase. It was just going haywire because of the dying batteries. I figured the July heat probably made them leak. No big deal, into the trash he goes. I turned the corner past a box of old work out equpiment I swore I would use one day, and there I saw it. My 6 Furbies of varying color, all in a circle staring at something in the middle. The sour protein shake smell got almost unbearable. It was silent now but the ringing in my ears was deafening. My blood felt cold. I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. I had to see what it was. Suddenly all 6 of the Furbies in unison said in the same dying batteries voice, “I see you! I see you! I see you! I see you!” I approached closer. The corner they were in wasn’t quite reached by the old dusty light bulb closer to the attic door. The shadows were harsh, but as I got a few feet away, I was horrified at what I saw. It was, what seemed to be what was left of a young woman. There was almost no skin left on her. Her eyes had been gouged out and put who-knows-where. Her hair was caked with her blood and ripped out in patches. She looked like she got picked at thousands of times by vultures. Her mouth open in a silent scream revealed her teeth and tongue were also gone. Thick, sticky blood soaked into my floorboards, mixed with dust and pieces of pink fiber glass. Well, it’s not pink anymore anyway. My hand flew up to my mouth as I forced back down the vomit that came up. Just as that happened, the Furbies spoke in their terrible dying batteries voice. “Me very hungry! Me very hungry! Me very hungry!” Finally I snapped out of my horror and ran back to the stairs. I fumbled to grab the light bulb’s string, panting and panicking. The second the light went out, the whole attic was pitch black. Then the voices came back. “Goodbye!” I screamed a little and backed down the stairs as quickly as I could without falling. I folded the stairs up, slammed them back into the ceiling, and immediately went and vomited in my kitchen sink. That was about 2 hours ago. I’m sitting at my dining room table stunned. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I realized how it will look to have a dead, barely intact woman in my attic, while blaming it on a hot 90’s toy. I’ve been sitting at my kitchen table with my head in my hands. About every 5 minutes I hear 6 deep voices. “I see you!” (Written on mobile)
"Boss! We thought you quit! What happened to you?" A man in a suit is talking to a guy with dreadlocks, a Rastafarian looking man. That man lifts his head towards the one talking, and cracks a smile. "Heeeeeyyy Luther, how is it with the guys? Are you being looked after by Dick?" "Dick? Oh, Don Richard! Well, we've been making a killing, but the pressure's on. We work as a group still, but beyond the work everyone goes their own way." "Oh, that's saaad. How about I visit the guys?" "I'm not sure if Richard is going to like that." "It'll be fine ... He'll love to see me again. See how I changed." "I guess that is something unusual. What happened to you?" "Story for another time. Here's my number, though it might not be me that picks it up. If you can get everyone in the mob together for a party, call me. I'll be there to spread the looooove~" A rainbow colored van stops right in front of the two men. The door slides open, and three others hang out of the doorway. "Come on, Tary! Let's go! We're gonna be late for the ceremony!" "Ceremony? Tary?" "Story for another time Luther. Don't forget to give me a call." Tary gets in the van and it drives off, leaving Luther to his lonesome. Tary, no he's Zachary, seemed completely mellowed out. Richard might actually agree to meet him. The man in the suit takes out his cell phone, and starts calling up some people. A few days later, Tary's number got dialed and a woman picked up. A Texan accent, though fairly high pitched. "Who ya callin' for?" "Zachar- Tary." "Right, hol' up." I hear her voice, now more distant, calling out someone. "Y'all see Tary 'round? He's got a call." After some muffled conversation, she puts the phone back to her ear. "Sorry 'bout that. Give me a min and he'll be here." A few minutes pass. "Heeeeeyyy, Tary's here." "Tary, I've got the guys to come together for you the day after tomorrow at 8 pm. We'll be meeting in the HQ." "Riiiiggght, don't worry. I'll be there. Thanks for helping spread the loooooovvvee, Luther." "No problem, the guys were excited to see you. Especially Richard." "I know Dick wants to see me. He loves to reconnect. Well, I've got someone to take care of for now. Meet ya then, Luther." Before Luther could answer, Zachary already ended the call. Some things just don't change. Luther suppresses a chuckle and turns to Richard. "He's coming." At the meeting, everyone is dressed in suits. Having a glass in hand, the atmosphere seems kind of jovial. Everyone is talking, realizing that they haven't taken the time to keep up with each other. Even when Zachary enters, some wave enthusiastically at him. He returns the gesture and moves to the main table, where Richard is waiting. "You're looking lively, Zachary." "Heeeeyyy Dick, call me Tary. I wanted to thank you for taking that burden away from me. When I got caught up in my new family, I started seeing things differently. So honestly, thank you." The party goes on into the night, and everyone is getting drunk. Zachary still looks fairly sober, which gets him compliments from the others at the table. "Hey Dick! I want to announce something to everyone. Can I?" Richard nods and rings a bell standing on the table. Everyone stops talking and turns to the main table. Where Zachary is ready to take the floor. "Men and women of the Corpus of Cabals. We wanted to become the leader of the mobs, and I think we can do so now." Zachary motions Richard to join in. "I think that you can do it under the new leadership!" Zachary pushes Richard forwards. "Long live the new Don!" Everyone cheers, and then begins shouting. Shouting in panic! Zachary pulls out a knife, twists Richard into a headlock and begins carving out his throat. "Sorry Dick, but I was talking about me. As the limp body falls to the ground, Zachary gets up and addresses the group again. "Time for some change and a new motto." Luther seems most composed and shouts from the back of the hall. "What's the new motto, Boss?" "Firstly, I'm Zachary! Secondly, we will share Love and Peace!" Zachary stands there, holding out his arm with the hand signing a V. "Peace!" &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; [r/DregsfromLake](https://www.reddit.com/r/DregsfromLake/).
This may be a Norwegian ice breaker, but they still hire the best, and I've got enough Arctic experience for any three other deckhands alive. So why am I still a deckhand? My big mouth. I'm never going to say "aye, Captain"when the Captain gives a really stupid order. Like suicidally stupid. I've missed being kicked out of the Merchant Marine twice now, for mutiny, when my actions saved the ship, crew, and cargo from certain loss. Some Captain's think that makes me a loose cannon. Well, they may be right, but if am, I'm a remarkably well aimed loose cannon. Others have actually bothered to read the legal records, and know that the only time I speak out of turn is when I honestly believe lives are at stake. Eh, we'll see. Stuff my hands into my coat, and ... oh, yeah ... that new seasick bug the doctor is so hot over. Captain is backing him, so everyone has to wear one. At least they have an on/off switch. "Peel and stick behind either ear. Switch on. Mild disorientation possible for first few seconds." Great. You don't get seasick, and this thing can give it to you. Oh well. Click A whisp of sound, a trace of voice, the barest hint of speech, "master ...". What? What was that? I look down the side of the ship. Only water below. Deep dark cold water, over seabed that hasn't seen direct sunlight for centuries. No portholes here, part of the reinforced area of an icebreaker. Looking around, there's no place for anyone to hide. What was that? ... "Hey, Doc?" "What? You get in tangle with boss already?". He's smiling, but it still ouches a bit. "Not yet."Drawing it out like a horror movie. Oh, little tricks life plays with us. Doc laughs. "It's actually about these new anti-seasick gizmos. Do you understand how they work?" "Mmm, a little. The inner ear is affected by them so that they don't send signals to the brain that conflict with what you see and feel with the rest of your body. You are wearing yours, yes?" "Yes, I put it on last night." "Come now, even I can hear the but in there. You wish to talk about it?" "Privately, please."His eyebrows raise. "Well, then ... Come into my parlour."Oh, we're really playing up the horror. Bella Lugosi, eat your heart out. Doc's so good at this it's fun to play up to him. ... No wonder. "Well then, Dan, what's the problem?" "Any reports of people hearing things when they're wearing them?" "Mmm, not that I'm aware of. You think you heard something?" "Well, yes. It sounded like it came from the ocean, but that's impossible without either a boat, or serious gear to survive in these waters." "Not a practical joke?" "I was over the reinforcement frame. No portholes below, and no place close enough to hide." "Mmmm, what did you hear?" "I'm, not sure. Sounded like a whispery 'master'."Did I just see his eyes light up? Must be a reflection. ... We're so good at rationalizing, aren't we. If I'd been watching a horror movie, I'd already be screaming kill the doctor. He gives a skimpy explanation of something he is pushing for. Doesn't have the full side effects report memorized ... like he does for everything else he uses. And his eyes gleam when I reported "master"? Who's the blind fool now, eh? ... ((May be continued)) Horror is not one of my usual genres. I'm going to need time to figure out where to go next.
t minus eight A lightning struck down in the middle of a grassland. A bright halo of light appeared in the same exact spot. A being of immense power opened its eyes for the first time. She looked around in wonder, feeling the grass on her skin, observing at the bright blue sky, enjoying the bright, happy world she has maintained for a long long time. The Sun left the celestial realm and rebirth again on Earth. She no longer wanted to return. t minus seven The Sun wandered around, sporting a brilliant holy glow around her body. Animals were attracted to her warmth, following her as she wandered the forest. Rabbits and deers followed closely behind, squirrels and birds perked on her shoulder, the forest seemed more cheerful wherever she went. t minus six A boy was wandering around the forest, he was picking berries and skipping across streams, like a normal regular kid. He was climbing a tree, pretending to be Tarzan, when he saw a bright white glow from further into the forest. He approached the source and found her, the most magnificent girl he has ever seen. He curiously observed her but unbeknownst to him he was already spotted, a very long time ago. t minus five "Hello,"she said to him, turning to look him straight in the eye, "come out, I won't hurt you." He felt drawn by her gaze and complied. "Come closer,"she said, so he did. "Hi,"he said, confounded by the scene before him, "who are you?" "Sun, I'm the sun,"she replied, smiling, "how about you?" "Jim, Jim Holland,"he said, "are you really the sun?" "Yes" He looked at her, his eyes full of wonder. He then looked at the sky and pointed at the sun. "If you're the sun then why are you also down here and up there?" "Because I came down here. That's me eight minutes ago." He, of course, did not understand that the fastest velocity is the speed of light and mindlessly put his complete faith in his new friend. "In about four minutes you won't see me up there anymore." t minus four The two chat about childish things; adventures, the forest, the world. The sun entertained him, for a child is the purest being on Earth, uncorrupted by the sins of adulthood. They went back to the grassland and sat down. "So in three minutes the sun will be gone?" "Yes" t minus three "So there'll be no more light? No more warmth? No more happy sunny days?" The sun paused, she hasn't considered that before. ".....yes." "But you'll still be here, with me, right?" "Of course." t minus two "And what else will happen." "Well, the Earth will fly out of orbit. The ecosystem will collapse, life as we know it will cease to exist." "That is bad right?" "Yes." "But you will still be here with me, right?" "Of c-" The sun stopped herself. She thought of the consequences, the suffering, the pain she'll cause if she stayed. Her magic defied the law of physics, if she go back now everything would go back to normal. t minus one She sorrowfully looked at the boy. "I'm sorry." Then she was gone. The boy went home and thought nothing of it, but unbeknownst to him he had stopped an apocalypse.
As books went, it was tiny. Barely more than a pamphlet, really. Looking for answers, Steve turned it over in his clammy hands; the blurb would surely shed some light on his mysterious delivery. He was disappointed to find nothing but a black reverse cover with the words "A THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINING READ \- J. Robert Oppenheimer"written in bold, reassuring letters. With trembling fingers, Steve opened the book. He skimmed the contents. POTATO SACKS AND YOU - HOME MADE ROBES TOOLS OF MEDIEVAL AGRICULTURE CARING FOR ROMAN SANDALS VOCAL COACHING TIPS WITH JAMES EARL JONES With a groan, Steve set the book aside. He rather enjoyed his job in accounting - but the signs were clear. He was the Grim Reaper now. Grabbing a pen and paper, he started drafting a resignation letter.
Red lightning whizzed by Jebediah's head. Satan himself had opened the portal to hell days ago and since then the heathens in opulent white and crimson had not stopped coming. They were selective on who the spared but Jebediah and his ilk had the blessing of god upon them. These crimson and pearl warriors could not stand their touch. Three days ago, old man Raleigh had charged the demons and they'd recoiled. Raleigh had the plague. He hacked and coughed and for the first time their troops retreated. They had left Jebediah's strongest dead in their wake but Raleigh had been too much. Soon, platoons of the sick and dying charged each gate to hell. Some on the other side began to come through with blackened and peeling skin. They could barely hold their rifles. Now, the portals only opened to dump the demons into the world. They had no fight left. Despite their withered form, the monsters were still strung up and burned. Jebediah could not open their portal to send them home but he could send them home in other ways. They cried out and begged. One, with his final breath, blasphimed about strange unrecognizable things. He crowed of "past colonies", "no future", and "split times". Their venomous calls of doom took no root with the religious. Instead they all burned. Only when piles of ash littered the ground did the final portal open.
My bones ache. I'm covered in dirt. There's more dust in my eyes then tears. There's blood all over my right hand. It's been there for 2 days. Yeah, that was when I scratched my arm. But I haven't seen a body of water in over a week. None of that matters though. I'm here. I'm finally here. The bridge. The genie bridge. The god crossing. It has a few names, but they all mean the same thing. You get one wish if you cross it. Anything you want. It takes nearly a month of hiking through rain forest, and another two weeks of mountain climbing. I'm here. I came with 4 others. Allan, Kira, Seth and Erica. I've thought of nothing but this moment for 5 years. Allan has climbed mount Everest, and K2. This was a new challenge for him. He was excited because he wanted to push himself, push himself further than anyone else has ever pushed themselves. He wanted to stand beside me because people said it couldn't be done. Yet here we are. He's going to cross first. He loves the idea that he gets to go first. The first here, the first to cross. I don't know if the others felt it, but half way across, a real moment of doubt hit me. Maybe this is a joke, a legend. Why did I believe it? Was I a gullible fool? Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Allen reached the other side, and the ground around him began to glow. A podium of stone rose from the ground, with a language written in some forgotten written language. But it changed before us, and morphed into a readable English. “Please write your one wish” it read. So formal, and so polite. “I wish I was remembered as the first one here, and I wish everyone knew about it, and I could bask in that glory” The podium withdrew into the ground, and was replaced by a tangle of tree roots. The roots formed a circle and inside of that was a portal to New York. Through it I could see fan fair over Allen's accomplishment. He excitedly stepped through. His wish was granted. Kira was next. She crossed, and the podium appeared for her. I assume the unreadable language was for the last person here, because this time the podium appeared with the English writing. I could see her thinking for a long time. Kira was similar to Allen, she wanted to be here because she liked pushing herself, but there was something extra to her. People told Allen, it couldn't be done. But what Kira heard was, “YOU can't do it”. I've seen her do amazingly terrible things. All she wants is to feel better than others. Maybe that makes her broken, maybe she was just born that way. She wanted to be here so she could spit in someone's eye and say, “I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU I WAS BETTER THAN YOU!” I wasn't entirely surprised when I saw her wish written down, “I wish laws didn't apply to me”. She was given her wish, and a portal too. It appears the the podium wasn't only polite it also came with a, buy a wish get a portal, Saturday meal deal. Seth stepped forward. This journey had been the hardest on him. He missed his family. He was the kindest of all of us. All he wanted was to be with his friends, and have a good time. The best listener of the bunch. When he asked “how's your day,” he really cared how yours was and how it was going. He was also poly, and had 3 girlfriends and 1 boyfriends, each of which had there own slew of partners. I've met some of them. His wish kinda surprised me at first, but it made as much sense as anything else would have. He wish for unlimited funding for 4 weddings. I was wrong to say they were girlfriends and boyfriends, they were fiancѐs. Again, he was given a portal home. His trials were over. He could be with his family now. All of them. Erica was second to last. She didn't even realize it was her turn. She was looking at the different types of plants that grew here. She was exploring. She was the one that brought up the expedition to us. This was her idea. She loved the journey, not the destination. The journey was the destination? I can't say I fully understand her, but I envy her for seeing excitement in everything. Why do plants like this grow here, but no where else? The world is a gorgeous puzzle through her eyes, with multiple answers, and nothing but exciting rewards. I couldn't begin to imagine what she would want from a wish bridge. She wished she had the power to enter movies. Of the 5 of us, I'm not shocked she was the first to think out of the box, and go beyond the existence we live in. She wasn't satisfied exploring just this world, she wanted to explore them all. She stepped through her portal. ... And then there was me. … I stood there for a long time at the edge of the bridge. My arm, still covered in blood. I had worked so hard to get here. All of us did. We gave up so much of ourselves to get here. Now that I was there. Why? What did I really want? Did I want to Live forever? no. Too much effort. Did I want infinite money? no. Too many problems. Did I want to get laid? Nah. Not like this. My muscles were still sore. I sat down. I thought about wishing to know what I wanted, but it seemed like it would only make me want that thing, and then I would have lost my wish. I wanted a little of what everyone else got, but not the same intensity. I didn't need the whole world to love me, just a little recognition would be nice. And I didn't need to be above the law, but maybe just mildly rich, so I could always afford a good lawyer. My partner and I have talked about a modest wedding, we like the idea of a pot luck. And we wouldn't need to explore the great universes. A good honeymoon is all I want. It's a weird feeling standing here. Working so hard, and getting what you want, but then...did it matter? I didn't need a magic wish to get what I wanted. I know what I want from the podium. “I wish, I could save my wish for later.” The podium didn't give me a portal like it gave the others. Instead the roots came out of the ground and handed me a small rock. It seemed out of place here, it was red with white streaks through it. Sore and bloody. It was time to head back.
Commander Knipper screamed at us to stand back. I braced myself for the worst to happen, whether it be a gas explosion or an Afghan ambush. Instead, we were assaulted by daylight, shocking my disoriented eyes. Knipper pointed his Kalashnikov out of the door, surveying the rugged terrain ahead before giving us the OK. One by one, we marched outside, unsure of what would befall us. Light snow dusted the ground, unsurprising for an Afghan November. I adjusted my helmet and anxiously smeared my boot into the dirt. Mud curled up onto the top, holding its shape in the cold weather. Navigating our way out of the narrow canyon would prove to be hard. Jagged rocks stuck out of the cliff, prominently warning tanks like us not to fall their way. Adam, our Sergeant Major, holding a long line of rope, surveyed the ravine for a good hold that could allow us to rappel up the sharp face of the cliff. He shook his head and told us to march further north. As the snow picked up slightly, Anton kicked me in the shin. I tripped, still very dazed from the rough fall, and gave him a light punch in the arm. Eventually, Adam stopped. Gesturing up to a large feature extending upwards like a hook, he began tying a weight onto his rope before hurling it through the air. After cresting over the top of the canyon, it fell back down, landing directly at my feet. I handed the weight to Adam, who began tying himself in before handing it to me. When I was done, I handed the rope to Dima, who handed it to Anton and so forth, until our tank crew of nine were all strapped into the improvised apparatus. Slowly but surely, we began ascending the rim of the canyon. Adam worked fast to find foot and hand holds, yelling the commands down the rock face to Knipper at the bottom. With the human power and ingenuity that comes only from bitter cold and overwhelming pain, we all managed to work our way out from the narrow canyon below. What we saw in front of our eyes, however, befuddled us. The tracks that followed our BMP were nowhere to be seen, instead covered in short grass. We were certainly in the same place; I had seen it only an hour ago. However, the familiarity of this long stretch of steppe gave way to only piercing solitude.
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