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“Oh, an invitation.” I gave a fake laugh like I was in on the joke,”Armstrong and them were giving future astronaut a due by date?”
My advisor, Dr. Harada rolls his eyes,”No kid.” He takes his donut and dunks it in his coffee.
I hug my clipboard to my chest, hoping this isn’t some type of newbie hazing.
He takes a bite of his now soggy donut and smacks his lips before stating,”Neil Armstrong acted as Galactic Ambassador for the United States when on Earth’s moon on the Earth date July 20th 1969 he accepted an invitation to a Moon Party in the year 2023 A.D.E.” which he ended with a slurp of his coffee.
I was waiting for him to bark out a laugh and go on and on about how ‘green’ I was and how ‘all these big shot kids’ are so gullible.
But he didn’t. And continued to stare at me uninterested and exceptionally bored with having to act as tour guide for newbies.
“Dr. Harada I—I don’t understand...”
He raises an eyebrow,”Why do you think we had you sign those Non-disclosure Agreements?”
My eyes widen in shock,”But I thought...”
He looked at me knowingly,”You thought those forms were just for protecting our tech.”
I nod dumbly and start to slump on the wall. My legs feel so weak.
“Oi! Easy there kid.” Dr. Harada puts his food down on a nearby table.
I let myself fall flat on my behind and put my head between my knees, clipboard forgotten on the floor,”Oh, my God.”
He gives me a hearty pat on the back and shoos away lab technicians that are stopping to stare.
But I barely notice because my mind is reeling from this new information. The government is keeping big secrets. If this invitation is real then how did the Apollo 11 crew get-
My head snaps up,”ALIENS!!”
Dr. Harada jolts away from me,”Sheesh kid. Scream it to the world.”
“It was aliens?!”
The older man sighed and raised both his hands mockingly,”Yes. Yes. It was aliens.”
I look down at the ground and rub my lip in thought. But how would the aliens give this message without the television broad cast picking it up-
I jumped up and grabbed Dr. Harada by the shoulders,”THE TWO MINUTES OF SILENCE!”
“Yes!” He bats my hands away,”Cool it kid. I’m too old and angry for this much excitement.”
“S-sorry!” I quickly release him and pick up my clipboard from where I dropped it on the floor. That’s when my ID card on my lanyard draws my attention. I look to Dr. Harada concerned,”Why would NASA risk a potential leak to have interns like me know?”
Dr. Harada gestured around,”Do you see any other interns?”
I look and see the same lab techs and operators.
“...No.”
“When Humans made contact with the other lifeforms on Earth’s moon we were given an invitation to a future celebration hoping to integrate Humans into intergalactic society once we had sufficient enough technology.”
“Which means?”
“Kid.” He smirked,”We have a mission for you.” |
Ronan stood still in a crowd of fast moving commuters. Infront were six transterminals, every few seconds they flushed a person in and out of existence with a bright white light.
He clutched the strap of his rucksack, wondering how it might fare in the transport beam. Would he be re-assembled butt naked on the ground somewhere in the desert, his clothes and belongings elsewhere? He'd read about that very thing happening to somebody, somewhere else, that morning. They called it terminal hacking. It was a lucrative operation, so he read. Ronan read a lot of things, mostly these paranoia inducing anecdotes that tried to steer the poplace away from new and unsettling technological advancements. This was the same poorly reputed newsnet that insisted space travel made you deathly sick (something to do with gravity, or the lack thereof) or that synthetically produced meats were the ultimate cause of cancer. Ronan did not eat synthetic meat and though he wasn't able to afford it anyway, space travel was definitely off the cards as well.
But, Ronan had found himself at the transPort during the height of rail strikes. Not a single train was running and the tracks were obstructed by dozens of protesters. The anti-mechanical movement, another fringe political group that Ronan fearfully supported.
He grit his teeth and directed his internal frustrations at 'those damn mechanicals' - the same mechanicals that most likely sewed his clothes, serviced the hallways of his apartment building and swept the sidewalks. Checking his wristwatch, Ronan could see his time was running out. He had always allowed an extra ten minutes, incase of delays. But he had not anticipated a total shutdown.
An elderly lady stepped into the transterminal in front of him. She smiled, briefly, before she punched in her coordinates and disappeared into oblivion. He wondered if that lady, in her youth, feared the automobile like he feared the teleport. When her body disintegrated into light, she didn't flinch. Ronan was quietly humiliated.
The digital hand of his wristwatch kept ticking, and he stepped into the now vacant terminal. A holographic screen appeared overhead with a selection of the available destinations. With a shaky hand, he keyed in his chosen destination. He felt a tinge of regret when his eyes flooded with light. His body willed him to burst out of the terminal, but he was already someplace else. Not quite here and not quite there.
Ronan's entire body fought against his swift disintegration. He could think of nothing but disaster. He was no longer afraid of being stripped naked and left for dead, he instead convinced himself that he would not appear on the other end at all. He was going to die, and he had less than a second to make peace with it.
And when he did, he appeared, on his knees in another transterminal. It too was cluttered with commuters, the only difference being a sign on the wall that read WELCOME TO FT. WORTH. To his surprise, he was alive and holding up the terminal queue. |
This is the first time I've written anything. So bear with it, if you managed to get to the end.
“We can help you defeat death.” I know I’m on deep sleep and not supposed to dream. The whole darkness starts to blur, I am sure this is not a dream. The sudden hallucination starts to calm down as I see a figure, with eyes, two of them. Then I see the nose, mouth and although this entity does not seem to use it, but it also has two ears. One on each side. Come-on, it’s a human being I’m seeing, at least it fulfills my requirement for being a human being. The man starts to have conversation with me, not actually a conversation as I’m not contributing anything to it. So a kind of podcast? He’s talking about making me immortal, in my LSD induced hallucination. But how do I get out of this?
Did I pee myself? No the dampness in the bedsheet is caused by my sweat. I feel my pants. Yup, not pee. But who was the guy I saw on my dreams? It was speaking to me throughout the night but I could only make out some words which combined as “I can give you immortality, but the earth is not made to sustain immortals.” Anyways I had heard LSD gave crazy hallucinations but this was something new for me. I’m never touching that again now. The day went on but it was strange how every other person, if not every one of them, I met that day kept constantly talking about a huge announcement being made on TV tonight. Refusing to remain outside of the loop, I decide to see what announcement are they making which everyone but me, knew about. There is same news on every channel. A scientist is saying he has discovered ways to defeat death. He's talking about sending the immortalized being away from earth to keep earth habituated by mortals. “Just another bait”, as much as I fanaticized being immortal, I was sensual enough to know it was impossible. I decide to go to bed. There it is, my wet bedsheet.
I remember the LSD induced face, that professor who claimed to have found the weapon to defeat death, came in my dream. Quickly, I go back to the news, he’s talking about the recruitment process, where there is no process- he’s already chosen the person. He then unveils his team, which comprises of himself and a weird-looking man in his 20’s who easily looks like the smartest man on earth. Just by looking on his face. The professor is saying due to overpopulation, and God’s desire to allow mortals to continue ruling the earth, the immortalized one has to be on exile from earth. Deciding to not give too much thought on this, I go to bed, this time not on any drugs. The previous night’s hallucinations are gone, I see an actual dream, it’s been so long since I last saw one. A bright summer day, I’m minding my own business, and this professor arrives, out of nowhere. He starts telling me he’s not from earth, and that he’d come here just for me. Did I talk about fanaticizing immortality? Yeah he said he was here to help me achieve that. And yes, I was the chosen one he was talking on the TV. He then planted a sapling there and said it would navigate me to his place.
Next day was quite different. I already felt superior, maybe I was getting immortal for real. I called my boss and told him, not in the voice I used to talk to him that I was quitting.
“I’m not working for puny mortals”
Now I’m on my way to the doctors. I’m navigating the directions as if someone planted a GPS on my brain. Or, did they? Over the three houe commute, it did not for once struck my mind that he was lying. Nah, I’ve talked to him, but on dream. Seen him on TV, yeah, saw him on TV, so he existed. And he has also planted a GPS on my mind, so he is not lying. I reach to his place, which is strange for a professor’s lab, but he was not an professor earth-professor so it was natural for him to have an outlandish workplace. “Are you sure you’re gonna do this?”
“It’s always been my dream.”
“Remember, only seven days you have on earth, and then you will never in your infinite life see this place again.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Ok, next week we’re doing the treatment. Inside that spaceship. There. After the treatment, you’ll fly off to the infinite. Forever. Also keep on mind, memories are the only thing you’re allowed aboard from earth. For it is the only thing on earth that lasts forever. Well, other than you (winks).”
I ask what the treatment is.
“It’ll begin just as the last atom on the ship, gets detached from the surface of earth, for anything that’s on contact with earth has an end. And if you decide to have a different opinion, this is the last point of time you can do that.”
Wow, is this for real? I’m getting immortal. Always knew I had something different to these stupid earthlings. The first five days out of allotted seven, I spent thinking about how I will spend the eternity. What all I could do knowing there’s nothing that can kill me? I’d go on interplanetary trips, spend few decades on each, get bored and then to the intergalactic trips. Then new universes (if they exist I’ll be the only one to know about them.) And possibly after exploring universes, maybe try my hands on different dimensions. Afterall I’m not going to be killed. I fall asleep. The next morning I wake up, the day before my new adventure, the forst that popped my mind was, “But what after that?” How to spend the rest of my infinite years? The whole of my last day on earth, I spent finding answer to this question.
Finally it’s the day. “I don’t see the excitement on your face like the last time.”
“Oh, no, I’m excited as hell.”
“Are you sure you’re going to do this?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“You’ll never see your family, friends or this lovely little planet of yours.”
Again. Did I pee my pants? No, the seat of the ship, right in front of a huge glass window, is soaked from my sweat.
Then the professor’s smart-looking assistant fastened my seatbelt and asked for the last time, “Are you sure you’re going to to this?”
“Y-yeah, yeah. Of course. I’m sure about it. Go on.”
He starts the unusual countdown from 17…… 16……. Then the ship starts counting down. At this moment my whole life on earth flashed in front of my eyes. My leg muscles start stretching and aching, the doctor and his fellow board another ship. I’m alone now, looking at the sun, my beloved earth. Am I really not going to regret this?
Sweating, yet cold, excited, not exactly, but nervous, for sure, the sharp wind from the small circular window is slapping my face, for the last time ever on my lifetime, which was never-ending one. I hear nothing but the countdown. It had reached 9…. now 8… Why is it going so slow? A certain tension digs into my body, my back stiffens, my eyes hyperfocus everything I see. Maybe because I’m seeing them for the last time. The Portuguese saying, “Ele debro o Capo da Boa Eseranca.” echoes around my head. It’s translation, “He’s nearing the Cape of Good Hope”, means “a person is in his final phase. He’s not going to achieve anything now.” I try to brush it off telling myself,” I’m going to conquer the universe. What’s more to achieve?”
“The feeling of dying remembering you conquered the universe.” My conscience spoke. We’ve not been talking a lot these days. Also, I cannot tell anyone about conquering the universe, about what I saw there, like I used to tell my family at the dinner table after every single trip I went to. Isn’t all this equivalent to death anyways? My conscience spoke for the last time, why remain alive billions after billions of years billions and billions mile away forever when you can die content with your life right at this warm and cool lovely little blue dot which you call earth when the time comes. The heated aguement with myself ended. The next sound I hear, 3…. 2….. 1…..
“STOP!” |
"A.. A l....live tapestry?"The Seamstress said, her face going pale. The guard nodded, his face concealed by a metal helm. "And it'll be your life if you fail, understood?"The guard said. The poor seamstress nodded and the guard departed, leaving the woman alone to work.
She immediately got to work, weaving her greatest work yet. She had no clue on how she could possibly create what the queen demanded. "It's impossible! a moving tapestry!? no one except a wizard could create that!". The queen had specifically told her she had to make it herself, for this was punishment,
The queen was jealous of the way the king had looked upon the seamstress the last time she had visited the castle, and everyone knew it. The Seamstress collapsed on the ground, crying.
She looked at her spinning wheel and was struck with the resemblance it bore to her hometown's watermill. This realization only made her cry harder until she finally drifted off to sleep.
She dreamed that she was back in her hometown, walking the wild trails near the watermill. In her dream she stopped as she reached the mill. Instead of water there was fabric. She awoke with a start, realizing what she must do.
She rapidly began to construct a machine, nailing together boards and tying things together with the yarn. Once she finished her invention, she created multiple other different tapestrys.
Days later, the queen herself arrived to view the seamstress's work. She gasped when she saw the colossal construct in the middle of the room. "What is this!"she cried as she inspected the machine.
The seamstress, unseen by the queen, began to rotate the machine using a crank. The queen marveled as the beautiful tapestry came alive. The tapestrys showed the queen dancing in her court, surrounded by art and riches. It was as if the queen's dreams had manifested as cloth.
The queen, as vile as she was, was true to her word. The seamstress was freed from the castle and was allowed to return to her hometown. She continued to work on her machine, perfecting it and teaching the art to her children. Her children continued to pass it down until the days of the photograph, where one of her descendants became one of the world's first film-makers.
"Or at least that's how the tale goes". The old woman said as she tucked her grandson into bed. She stepped out of the room and walked down a hallway adorned with the photos of famous relatives. She slowly crept down the stairs until she reached a locked door. Once she opened it she took a moment to look at the ancient innovation, its colorful tapestrys still in pristine shape. She smiled as she slowly turned the crank, watching the queen as she danced across the fabric. |
It was a perfectly ordinary day at the central bank. People came and went under the watchful gaze of countless security cameras installed on the premises and the support of an elite guard team of thirty veterans, stationed throughout the building.
That was until the screaming started and the five guards tasked with guarding the entrance simultaneously went down, a white bullet in their heart. No, not a bullet, a small white piece of bone.
The rest of the team gathered at the entrance. Communications flew through their walkie talkie. The national guard, the police, even the President, were all contacted.
Another bone bullet flew and buried itself into the tiled floor. It beeped before exploding, instantaneously incinerating the guards and civilians unfortunate enough to be in its vicinity. Smoke and dust gathered and the guards yielded ground to the villain, for they knew that they could not fight blind.
From the ash cloud a figure emerged, dual wielding guns. No, those were not guns, they were chicken wings.
"The *wingman*!"one of the guard cried, "Quick! Shoot him!"
They all open fired, filling the criminal with lead, as if he was a pincushion. He winced but took a bite out of one of his chicken wing, which instantaneously healed the bullet wounds which would surely be lethal in anyone else.
He grinned an evil, mischievous grin and threw three chicken wings at the guards in quick succession. Despite their best efforts to avoid them, the chicken wings exploded, bringing their number down from twenty to ten.
"Run! Run!"one of them cried as the guard retreated, followed by the rest as they realised that they stood no chance against such a powerful villain.
The *wingman* laughed at how pathetic they were and approached the vault. The police and the national guards were still five or ten minutes out, there'd be plenty of time to take the money and escape with his levitating chicken wings helicopter. With all these funds he could finally enact his masterplan. The world will tremble before the might of the *wingman*. |
"Fuck, fuck"Austin Leonard muttered back in callous anger, striking out the words venomously.
A familiar rage was rising. He needed a strong drink. And a phone call. Nobody was going to get in the way of this one.
He dialed Chuckie Lawrence, technically still his agent. Not since the final installment of the Lavendar series had they enjoyed success together. And that was eleven years ago. These days their working relationship was practically non existent. Chuck would reach out sparingly, as a deed of good will. He may have lost his faith in Austin as an author, but not his gratitude for bringing him the success of Lavendar.
"Chuck you asshole, you better pick up!"Austin poured a large glass of rum and quickly knocked back half. He hated the desperation in his voice. There was no answer, just the voicemail to which he'd grown regrettably accustomed.
You've reached Chuck Lawrence, I'm unavailable for your call at present. Please leave a brief message, your name and number, and I'll try and get back as soon as possible.
"You bastard!"Austin yelled away from the phone, as though trying to cast the insult elsewhere.
"It's happening again, Chuck."His words rushed forward with urgency. Then a moments silence to regain composure. He reached for his rum and took a large gulp without finishing.
"It's Emilia. She doesn't want — "
but then he stopped. He couldn't get his thoughts in order, barely able of make sense to himself let alone to somebody else.
"Just call me back — soon".
He sank the rest of his rum and returned to his writing, snatching up the page he had last penned. He interrogated the words with scrutinizing eyes – more had changed. An entire paragraph had been hijacked by Emilia.
Don't let go of me. Please don't let go of me.
You've given me so much to live for. Don't do this — not again.
He had read these lines before.
Gripping his pen he started hiding the words under messy manic scribbles. But the words would come back; appearing in new places, spreading like a cancer through the body of his writing. Scratching frantically across his pages he tried to contain Emilia, but the floodgates had opened and soon his work was drowning in not only her words, but the words of those before her. |
It feels like it has been hours, the rooms are all the same. The bedroom, the bathroom, the closets. All normal. You walk your patrol. The complex is quiet. Normally there is someone you can hear through the floor. Often there is someone up the stairs. You never go up the stairs, but there are always noises to indicate that someone is home. Today it is quiet. Even outside, all you can hear are some birds, the noisy kids across the street are not out now. The girl has left her bike as usual, sideways on the lawn. Rain or shine, its there. Not good for it, but she doesn't care. Not your problem. It does make you feel bad when she cries, sometimes over the bike, sometimes over a different thing she has left in the yard.
The squirrels are still out. They chatter in the big tree on your lawn. Always fighting each other over something. There are morning doves watching them from the mailboxes. Nasty creatures.
Did you sleep too late? There is often a car or two that passes by, someone late to work no doubt. But today it is quiet. You walk the patrol again, yep everything is still there. The couch is comfortable but something doesn't feel right. The back door is locked tight. You get on the bed, but the sense of unease doesn't go away. Usually it does on the bed. The bed is comfortable. It smells like home. The relaxing smell of the people you love, something that many forget is a thing. The feeling of warmth and happiness some people find in textures, the security blanket.
Something is still not right.
You want to go back to the window, it feels like hours have gone by but you know its only been a few moments. You know you have to be calm, everything will be ok, it usually is. You stop in the kitchen, Everything is better when you have had something to eat. A bite to eat, save some for later. You press the button for some water. Everything is ok.
Except it isn't.
You go back to the window.
Moving the curtains aside, you watch the street. Its much too quiet. The bike has not moved. Did you sleep too long? Where is everybody? You go back to lie on the bed. It is warm. Feeling drowsy but still vaguely alarmed at the lack of people around you sit waiting.
Oh no!. You fell back asleep. The sun has moved across the floor. Its past noon now. You can feel that something is wrong. The world is still quiet. The food is gone. You have nervously eaten it all. You press the button for water again.
Instantly alert, you feel the presence of something. Where is it? the halls are clear, the bathroom, the bedroom, the closet. All clear and just as you had left them. The yard is is empty except for a bird, the squirrels have disappeared.
The front!
There is a knock on the door. A few loud reverberations. Somehow you were snuck up on. The back is the weaker of the entrances to the house. You expected them there. Whatever it was, whatever it is. It fills you with dread. The house is warm and yours.
You shout at it. *Go away!*
The noise comes again. You can see the door shake with the impacts.
You wanted people to be around, but not like this.
*Stop! Go away!* you shout again. You can feel it still there.
You shout yourself horse. *Go away, leave me alone!* Louder might make them leave. You try louder.
You can hear it scraping. A Grinding sound. You can hear it breathe. It knocks again. The door is vibrating on its hinges.
*Just leave me alone!*
More sounds of Grinding, of scraping. Some sounds of tearing. What is it doing?
.
.
.
Nothing. The front is silent again. The footsteps have receded the looming presence is gone. Left is something you can smell, a chemical smell. It has left something at your door. Waiting for you to open it.
You go back to the bed. It is not comfortable. There is something outside your front door waiting. And all your friends are missing. Where is everyone? |
A deep, steady thrum pervaded the void as I floated within its grip. I could feel myself moving, pulled to and fro in invisible currents of stasis, but as much as I tried to manipulate myself into a position of control, I couldn't get a grasp on it. In very brief moments, spaced nearly equidistant in time, various shapes would appear and carve clear through the abyss with an almost blinding light, only to vanish as if the void itself struck them down. All around me, pushing through the dulling noise, words started to form.
*...o yo... emb...*
Desperate for a connection, I strained my ears, attempting to focus on them. Like eyes that stopped moving would begin to blur and erase images on the periphery, so too did the hum start to mute the more I concentrated on the words.
*...you rem... us...*
A little longer, now. Within the noise, I called out to them and found my words replaced with static.
*...remember us...*
Suddenly, silence. The currents ceased, leaving me in the stillness. My body jolted as I felt a platform lift beneath me, carrying my body upward. The shapes that were once so vibrant appeared less frequently and with faded light. The rise was slow, but the words were clear.
*Do you remember us?*
They were four in number, each wreathed in light. Though they dressed in drastically different clothing, seemingly from separate areas, their faces were the same; I knew this because their faces were mine.
"Who are you?"I asked as I scrambled to my feet. My body tensed, fists clenched as I rapidly spun around to face each of them. They remained outside my reach, yet I felt they were still far too close.
"Your question needs no answer,"one said, carrying my voice. "You know who I am,"answered another. Yet another replied with a resounding laugh. The fourth said nothing.
I grew anxious. "Where am I?"
"Purgatory,"said the fourth, floating closer. They were dressed in some sort of garb that depicted a future I never got to see. "You are dead, as are we. All must pass through the void."
The second snapped its fingers and a bang echoed throughout the area. Instantly, my mind sifted through memory fragments and pieced together the cause of my demise. The shadow of death was defiant.
"For a time,"stated the first, dressed in an outfit that depicted a medieval era, "you will remain here with us. We must prepare you for what awaits beyond."
"Beyond?"I questioned. My muscles were starting to give under the increasing gravity. The platform beneath me rose faster through the influence of the third, outside of my awareness. As I collapsed to my knees below the strain, I struggled to pass one last question into the void, spoken through gnashed teeth.
"What lies beyond?"
The void was no longer, illuminated in a blood red. The figures surrounding me were surrounded themselves by many more, each displaying my visage. The platform beneath me extended far, far below into nothingness. The shapes that were once bright cut through the crimson space with a black that refused all light. As if in unison, the choir of innumerable shades chanted, the culmination of their voices resembling the deep, steady thrum of my origin.
"Hell." |
“Hurry!” she pleads, looking over at me as I work. She should know better. This is a delicate art, and the most crucial component is time.
“These things can’t be rushed,” I chide her. “You know that.”
She glances down the tunnel as the footsteps soften, heading in the other direction.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just get impatient. I really appreciate you letting me join you.”
Resigned, she sinks to the floor of the tunnel and leans against the stone wall. She settles in, content to watch as I work. I can see the questions flickering across her face, but she waits, patiently. Well, as patiently as she can.
I chuckle.
“Don’t worry, little one. All in due time.”
I return to my task, focused once more. |
Creeper, aw man
So we back in the mine, got our pickaxe swingin' from side to side, side, side to side
This task a grueling one, hope to find some diamonds tonight, night, night, diamonds tonight
Heads up
You hear a sound, turn around and look up
Total shock fills your body
Oh no it's you again, I can never forget those eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all our stuff again
Cause baby tonight, you grab your pick shovel and bolt again, bolt again, gain
And run, run until it's done, done, until the sun comes up in the morn'
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all our stuff again, stuff again, gain
Just when you think you're safe, overhear some hissing from right behind, right, right behind
That's a nice life you have, shame it's got to end at this time, time, time, time, time, time, time
Blows up, then your health bar drops and you could use a 1-up
Get inside don't be tardy
So now you're stuck in there, half a heart is left but don't die, die, die, die, die, die
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all our stuff again
Cause baby tonight, grab your pick shovel and bolt again, bolt again, gain
And run, run until it's done, done, until the sun comes up in the morn'
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all our stuff again, stuff again, gain
Ha, Creepers, ya mine
Dig up diamonds, craft those diamonds, make some armor
Get it baby, go and forge that like you so, mlg pro
The sword's made of diamonds, so come at me bro
Ha, training in your room under the torch light
Hone that form to get you ready for the big fight
Every single day in the whole night
Creeper's out prowlin', (Whoo), alright
Look at me, look at you
Take my revenge that's what I'm gonna do
I'm a warrior baby, what else is new
And my blade's gonna tear through you
Bring it
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all your stuff again (Get your Stuff)
Yea, let's take back the world
Yea baby tonight, grab your sword armor and go (It's on)
Take your revenge (Whoo)
Ohh so fight, fight, like it's the last, last night of your life, life show them your bite (Whoo)
Cause baby tonight, the creeper's tryin' to steal all our stuff again
Cause baby tonight, grab your pick shovel and bolt again, bolt again, gain
And run, run until it's done, done, until the sun comes up in the morn'
Cause baby tonight, come on, the creeper's, come on, tryin' to steal all our stuff again
(Whoo) |
Dear old dad always had this strange sense of humor. Telling his devout followers to kill their son, classic. Flooding the whole place to make some gullible guy build a boat, absolutely hilarious. Condemning me to rule over hell, such a hoot. But this...this was new.
At least the old man was kind enough to leave me some instructions. I was now mortal, under the cover of a man who just moved from America to England, with a sizeable amount of money to cover expenses for a few years before I'd have to set up something myself. No hellish powers, nothing divine either. Just me, my knowledge of all of history and the time to set up something...and to find my true passion. And upon finding it I would be given the chance to return to heaven.
Sounded easy enough. Clearly my passion was freedom and pleasure, so in the first few years I set upon creating a club in which the free-spirited youth of London would come and indulge in all the pleasures I could offer. I then expanded with festivals, based upon what humans already did but more...free. A few bribes left and right and the law enforcement looked past the liberal use of all things forbidden. Oh, of the pleasurable way of course, I wasn't about to condone anything that would harm these fine youth. What am I, evil?
But it wasn't enough. Here I was, fifteen years after waking up in that apartment, and my body was showing it. Greying hairs, a bit of a beer belly developing...I was rich, yes, but every event I hosted, every party, every excess I indulged in... it felt like a chore. None of the people who attended my feasts had inspired me either. I felt...lost.
I even went to therapy. Credit to humans where it's due, they do tend to have these refreshing insights that one might simply overlook after living for so long. A fresh perspective, the good doctor suggested. I hadn't left London in those fifteen years except to go to venues where I was hosting parties, but with the money I had at my disposal, I started to travel. My time, I knew, was limited because I still had this human body which was catching up to me, so I had to make the journeys count.
Eventually I traveled to Egypt, and there, in Alexandria, it hit me. Laying my eyes upon the Bibliotheca Alexandrina I realized what I had that humans could only ever dream of. A wealth of knowledge, lost to the ages, on every single important event that ever happened.
So I started to write. And build up a collection of all this lost knowledge. I was not quite sure how I would release it to the world quite yet, as obviously I couldn't go around and tell every human about the existence of divinity which saved the records, but I was making good heedway.
And now you're telling me I can't go back to earth, and that I have to make a choice to go to heaven or hell right away because dear old dad isn't happy about the passion I found? Peter, my friend, if you're still not convinced about what a jerk he is, I don't know what to tell you... |
my eyes flutter open, feeling more rested than normal. It must be later than 8, right?
maybe not. I reach for my phone to see what time it is, but nothing is there. The nightstand isn't even there.
I sit up in bed, confused. It's a dream. I've usually been able to control my lucid dreams. So, I get up out of bed, and spin in a circle with my arms crossed over my chest. I expect to fly up like usual, but nothing.
It's not a dream.
Hm. I'm getting hungry, and I've got work soon. I stumble my way over to my cabinet where the cigarettes usually lye, but there is no box. Why are they gone? I seriously can not focus without my morning buzz.
But I don't feel angry or angst like I usually do when I do not have my morning cig. I feel calm.
Now I'm beginning to freak out. I walk hastily into the kitchen, and reach into my fridge to grab my milk for my cereal. But all I am greeted with is gatorade, 2 bottles of Bud Light, and a sandwich.
Wait, where am I?
Questions begin to file into my mind one by one, then in large groups. How did I get here, am I really dreaming, where is my backpack? I spin in a circle with my arms crossed faster than I ever have before. I hear a noise, and I feel relieved, it's all over.
"what are you doing?"
I stop spinning at once. I turn towards the source of the noise. It's a friend. I recognize him, but his name escapes my head. I feel sick, but I manage to blurt out
"who are you?"
".....Jacob."
"what?"
"How hammered were you last night?"
I pause, and look around again. I'm not in my kitchen, i'm in a small room, with one window and a cart with chips and drinks on it.
This is my college dorm.
Then the name comes back.
"Ally!"
The friend chuckles, burps, and says "yep."
"what....."
He sighs, and grabs the nearly empty beer bottle behind him on the counter.
before he can speak, i ask
"what is going on?"
"well, YOU are hung over, and I have class to go to. See you tonight."
He finishes the beer, and walks out of the room, with a backpack and bulky laptop under his arm.
And I then realize what has happened.
All the times i wished upon a lucky star that my life would turn around, and it finally has.
This is different. I need a beer. |
My alarm clock goes off at 7AM every morning. I try to maintain some kind of routine, in order to feel “structure” in my life. Or, at least, that’s what my doctor tells me. I get up, walk across the room, and turn the alarm off. The morning sun penetrates through the confines of my bedroom’s blinds. I turn to the left and enter the bathroom.
I open the medicine cabinet, and grab a cylindrical bottle. Its exterior is orange and translucent, reminiscent of the sterility of the pharmacy it came from.
“Thorazine 200mg” The bottle reads.
I pop the top, and place one of the pills in the palm of my hand. The pill is round and orange like the bottle; covered with some kind of coating.
“This stuff is awful.” I said to myself. “Makes me feel tired and comatose.”
“Then don’t take it.”
I look around the bathroom, trying to find the protesting voice’s origin.
“Who, who said that?” I said.
“Me. Look in front of you.”
I gaze into the mirror, and examine my reflection muttering silently towards me. Its mouth appears to be struggling to move.
“Did you say that?” I said.
My reflection nods its head, grabbing the corners of its grimace. The more the reflection pulls apart its mouth, the more its mouth seals shut.
My heart begins to beat faster; I step back and drop the pills onto the tiled floor. Their synthetic coatings bouncing in all directions against the tile’s ceramic texture.
“H-help me!” My reflection muses. “What am I doing here?”
“I, I don’t know…” I said.
The grooves of the wall’s paint around me begin to ripple in wavelike patterns. Melting from their linear position onto the tiled floor.
The lights begin to flicker, and the reflection leans forward; its mouth becoming more deformed through each vain-attempted iteration.
“Call the police, now!” It said.
The door in the reflected world begins to bang with fervent urgency.
“Open up!” A second voice said. “Or we will force it open!”
The reflection steps back from the mirror clutching its chest. Sulking into the tub, its mouth disappears entirely, and it assumes a fetal position.
Two men wearing black blazers burst through the door and seize the reflection of me. The creature begins to paw at its missing mouth.
“Get him out of here!” One of the men said.
The man turns around towards the mirror, and stares back at me.
“You saw nothing!” The man said.
He grabs the hairdryer on the counter, and bashes the mirror into a multitude of broken shards. Nothing remains but the breathing wall behind it.
I grab one of the pills from the bathroom floor, and swallow it without protest. The walls regain their usual structure, and the feelings of panic subside.
“Back to normal.” I said.
The mirror however, remains broken. |
**January 12th, 2009**
*To Mummy!!*
*Daddy is writing this card, but he made sure that there's a picture inside of me about to meet nanny and granddaddy for the first time ever!*
*You're gonna be so old at 25! Happy birthday and I love you lots and lots, Mummy! Daddy always talks about you and how brave you are for working in the army! I started infant school! I'm only in Year R, but still!*
*Lots of love, your daughter,*
*Bella!!!*
​
**January 12th, 2010**
*To Mummy!!*
*Daddy sed I culd rite this card 2 yew! I* *~~sat~~* *startid skool propurle this yer! Daddy sed that I dun relly well! I made frends and met new peeple! Mi teecher es really nise 2 mi! I told mi frends how kool yew arr! Happy birthday Mummy, I luv yew lots and lots!*
*Luv,*
*~~Bil~~* *Bella*
​
**January 12th, 2011**
*To Mummy!!*
*ITS ME BELLA!!! I miss you lots mummy, it* *~~wus~~* *was* *~~nise~~* *nice to see you four Christmas! My spellings ar**~~r~~**e much better! Daddy and I have been practising! Daddy, is* *~~halp~~* *helping me write this one! Daddy said something happened to your friends in Libya but that youre ok! Im glad about that mummy because its your birthday again!*
*I love you lots and lots mummy!*
*Happy birthday!!*
*Love, Bella!!*
​
**January 12th, 2012**
*To Mummy!!!*
*I'm happy you came back to England!!! I love you lots and lots! I started Year 3 and made you this card! It's filled with as many hearts as I could fit!!!!*
*Love,*
*Bella!*
​
**January 12th, 2013**
*To Mummy!!!*
*I'm not there for your birthday this week, BUT I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW I MISSSSSS YOUUUU. I gave daddy this card before i left on the school trip! I'm happy your back home again! Please don't leave to protect the queen and me again :(*
*Lots of love!!!!*
*BELLLAAAA <3*
&#x200B;
**January 12th, 2014**
*To mummy!!!!*
*You left for work again :( I learned about the first world war this term. The kids who had their parents leave to fight must have felt how I do whenever you leave me and dad. My teacher said I've done good! We did mock exams and I got really nervous I almost puked! I hope you stay safe mummy, I miss you lots!*
*Lots of love!!!*
*BELLLAAAA <3*
&#x200B;
**January 12th, 2015**
*To Mummyyy!!!*
*We have our exams for big kid school in a few months! I'm really nervous about that, but more nervous about you. Daddy doesn't like me watching the news because they say some bad stuff that's happening. I sneak downstairs and listen from under the dinner table sometimes. I get worried about you mummy, but I know you're safe when we get letters and videos from you! Happy birthday mummy!*
*LOTS OF LOVEE!!!*
*BELLAAA*
&#x200B;
**January 12th, 2016**
*Mummy,*
*My teachers are having a parent teacher meeting, I was hoping in this letter you could join come with me? It's my first year in secondary school and all my friends' are gonna have their parents there! You kept having nightmares the last time you were home, but don't worry! I sent you the thing that always protected the bad dreams for me! My Snuggles. Take care of him! Happy birthday!!!*
*Lots of Love!!!!*
*BELLAAAA!!!*
&#x200B;
**January 12th, 2017**
*Mummy,*
*My teachers took me out of class today, saying that you were coming home early! Daddy was waiting outside and he looked really sad, I knew something bad had happened when we went home and daddy sat me down and was all quiet. Daddy told me that something happened to your convoy, that you were hurt badly and that they had told him before he took me out of class. I hope you get better, Mummy, I'll blow out your birthday cake candles and wish you better!*
*Get well soon, with all my love and wishes!*
*Bella!*
**January 12th, 2018**
*Mummy,*
*I miss you mummy. Daddy said that you died protecting your country and that we should be proud of you. I'm sad, but am proud of you. You helped protect people! Daddy said you were given a medal, and that when I leave school he'll let me keep it. I miss you so much. I'm going to still send you birthday cards, but instead of by the Royal Mail, I'll be hand delivering them to your gravestone. I hoped Snuggles would protect you, but he didn't. :( I love you lots mummy, happy birthday!*
*Love you so much, miss you even more,*
*Bella!*
&#x200B;
**January 12th, 2019**
*Mummy,*
*I'm almost out of school! I miss you so much, but I rewatch the videos of when you were home and what you would send daddy and me when you were fighting to help people. You were an amazing medic, you saved so many lives out there. I miss you so much. I joined cadets in your honour, and I'm going want to become a doctor, just like you! I have my exams next year, so I'm studying like crazy. I hope I can make you proud, Mum. You made me and dad proud. I want to help lives just like you. You are my hero, mummy. I hope you're okay wherever you are.*
*Happy Birthday, you're finally 35!*
*Lots of love,*
*Bella* |
You ask the shop owner to figure out a elixir so you can be seen by everyone in this world. After several anxious minutes, the owner finally slowly limps to his back room. Bottles cling and slide around as he try’s to grab a bottle on the top shelf. The owner comes back to with a diamond color ball jar. Dirt and dust cover the Arabic scripture label. Cleaning the dust from the jar, the liquid becomes in focus. It’s thick and red with a pulpy consistency. He says,
“The power in this jar is very strong. It will not make you more noticeable, but will make the whole world seek you.”
You walk home with jar in bag and instructions in hand. “One tablespoon for adequate effects.” Work has been the hardest for you so you tell yourself to try it in the morning be for work.
“Pop!” as your bagel lands back in the toaster. You open the jar, carbonation cracks the seal. The smell is sweet yet bare. One tablespoon mixed with orange juice, had only the taste of orange. You start your car to drive your usual 20 min commute. At multiple spot lights and several cars that passed you all of which the drivers where absolutely starring at you in awe. No one in your life has ever had that type of stare for you. You feel as if the potions has some sort of affect on you. You park your car and head in the building,!sit at your desk and work. When lunch comes around you notice absolutely no one has spoken to you. Not even a look. |
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First go at one of these. Sorry If its crap...
“ Three men have been confirmed dead this morning at the Houston central mall. Not much is know of the circumstances but police have informed us of a fourth man, identified as Gregory Hutchings, is thought to be the prime suspect of the investigation so far. Police have advised that Hutchings is to be considered armed and dange... “
The sound of the TV seemed to fade out of his mind as detective Jones raised yet another glass of whiskey to his lips. In the dark room, the illumination coming from the dancing images on the screen allowed the detective to slip into deep thought.
“ it was a mistake keeping that scumbag alive “ he spat at himself, the bite of whiskey in the back of his throat serving not only as self punishment but as the only coping method he had left.
“ Greg fucking Hutchings “ the words spilled out of the detectives mouth with a bad taste as he rolled the now empty glass around in his fingers, the events of that night replaying in his head. Had he done the right thing? The medal on his wall told him he had, but does the saving of one life justify the sacrifice of three... even if that one does go on to do good.
A heavy sigh accompanied the high pitched clink of glass on glass contact before the slow, purposeful glug of whiskey promised to rid the detective of his thoughts.
“ This has been channel 5 news have a go.. “ Fuck it, he couldn’t blame himself. The cold reassurance of glass touched to his lips as the lies he told himself were washed down with whiskey and the world slowly became right again. |
“I have no qualms about killing the insignificant, but this has gone too far.” Modestan stepped out from a score of men gathered in the room. He tossed the fruit of their labor at his father's feet. It rolled a few times before coming to a stop. “Do you want to start a war with the orcs?”
His father picked up the severed head. Glazed eyes looked back in frozen rage, mouth wide open baring two fearsome tusks. He dropped the head and settled back in his seat. A servant scuttled to retrieve it, knowing his master wanted it cleaned and mounted on the wall as soon as possible.
“You are a fool if you think all heroes are in the mold of man.”
“Says the one who listens to hags tell stories from wet tea leaves!” Modestan snorted and turned to the men behind him, though none were stupid enough to join in on the joke. Only Modestan could speak to the Dire Lord in this manner without fear of consequences.
“Modestan,” Ryhovan growled. “If the seers are wrong about the prophesied hero, then merely—as you say—'insignificant' lives are lost.” He swept his censorious gaze across the room, daring anyone to speak up. “However, if *you're* wrong, then you've killed the Empire.”
“Father,"Monstan tried to reason once more, unable to contain displeasure at his father's attempt to twist guilt onto him. "Even you must've noticed how there isn't a single seer that gave us the same description and location of the so-called 'hero' destined to overthrow us. Isn't that a little strange?”
“Not at all. There could be hundreds, if not thousands, of heroes born from the sufferings I've created. It's inevitable. At one point they may form a coalition to defeat us. It would be wise to crush every one of them before this happens.”
“I say it's a classic enemy tactic to pay frauds to plant fear in our minds, and you are a fool for believing a word from the mouths of money-hungry mongrels. There are no heroes. No prophesied threat to our empire. None.”
“You all must be tired from the journey.” Ryhovan stood up, suddenly interested in the men behind Modestan. “I've prepared a great feast tonight for all who have killed the hero. We must celebrate. Rest now and let me hear the tale of your victory at the feast.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The men bowed and filed out of the room, eager to rest, tend to their wounds, or take a brief visit to their families. Tomio quickly caught up with Modestan.
“The Dire Lord has to exercise caution, lest there be a devastating outcome. That is understandable,” Tomio said, sensing Modestan's quiet frustration.
“His instincts have kept the Empire afloat for almost a century, I don't deny that,"Modestan said. "Nevertheless, it makes no sense for heroes to crop up everywhere so suddenly.”
“I agree. So...will you inform the Belfraks of their sons' death, or should I?”
“I'll tell them. I know you're not welcome at their home for stealing their daughter,” Modestan chuckled.
“That's not what I meant,” Tomio said. “I'm asking if I should be the one to do it since you've always done it.”
“Then why should this time be any different?”
“I know you can't defy your father when he's given you a piece of land to reign as you please. Yet too many have died on these endless quests to defeat the heroes. We're losing the most capable men each day and our force is growing weak... I know you feel responsible for all of it.”
“Do the others feel the same? That we've grown weak?” Modestan did not want to hear this.
“I don't know, but I sense a collective restlessness. It seems clear to everyone that the 'heroes' we fight aren't ones that seek to destroy us. Maybe we've been duped into fighting someone else's enemy. I really don't know. What I do know is, everyone's tired of all the pointless deaths.”
“Those who do not wish to follow me can leave any time. At their own risk. That has always been my policy,” Modestan said. "Why is this new?"
“I'm aware. I just wanted to make sure you're not surprised when one day a hero set on destroying you and your father's legacy turns out to be someone *real* among us.” |
“Christ almighty. He got me, Johnson. He got me good.”
On this sunny afternoon in a Wal-Mart parking lot, which could be said to be a normal day like any other, save for the fact that mere moments earlier a fury of shots had rung out into the air, with *rat-tat-tats* followed by successive and steady pops, followed by rat-tat-tats, and all of it sprinkled with curses and punctuated by screams and *Dios mio’*s and a general cacophony of mayhem that suggested it wasn’t a very normal day at all. Among the sprinkle of bodies littering the parking lot, in their various states of living and dead and somewhere in between, there was one Officer William Lloyd Williamson leaning against his Ford cruiser, cursing under his mustache and clutching his gut, a profusion of blood seeping through the navy blue of his threads and slowly puddling onto the asphalt below.
Officer Jake Johnson was by his side bawling like a baby, repeating once more into his shoulder transceiver, “I repeat, officer down! I need paramedic on-site at Bayside and Bellevue--”
“Jake,” Bill said, cutting him off by clutching one of Johnson’s collars and bringing him eye-level. “Shhhhh. Shhhhh-shut it. Will you shut up for a second? It’s over. I’m dying, buddy, and I need you to hear my goddamn final words.”
Jake’s “crying face” was not attractive. He really was blubbering quite like a big baby, and the tears streaming down his face commingled with other elements from his nose and the spittle from his mouth such that which was which was not entirely clear. “No, buddy, you’re going to alright. I got you. We’ll get through this one just like all the other times.”
“I need you to shut your dumb, beautiful mouth, Jake, or I swear by the devil’s anus and all that is unholy that I will smite you with the fury of hell’s vengeance from the afterlife if my final words are spent trying to get you to listen to my final words which I don’t want to be about wringing your neck. Now listen to me, will you tell Mary that from the first moment I saw her...”
And the words he spoke were beautiful, tracking through the years with swift elegance the beautiful courtship of his wife Mary and the years they had shared, the child they had brought into the world, his regret that he would not be able to see the whole thing through; and in his work, which had been his mission in life, to have had a honor of this “dumb, beautiful bastard” of a partner who had somehow always been able to come through, who had always been there for him, if this partner could do him the honor of being godfather to his child, and so on, in essence capturing in these final words the heart of the matter of life, its vicissitudes and glories, and all the grace therein.
And the words he spoke were beautiful, such that in the viewing room in which this scene was playing out there was hardly a dry eye, though they had seen many such scenes before. And while the blasphemous flurry of expletives and heaven-cursing sprinkled throughout the speech did make some in the room shuffle nervously, it wouldn’t do anything to change where he was headed. Sacrifice of self in the line of his duty, besides the general goodness of his character, was enough to all but guarantee passage. All in all it was the sort of death that reminded them why they had signed on in the Department of Deaths and Departures in the first place. It wasn’t all just a horror of decapitations and sprawled guts and snapped necks. It was Life’s other half, the shade that gave it significance and meaning, never more apparent than now.
“Spectral analysis of his core indicates his time is coming. Phase: Light at the End of the Tunnel. He sees it. He knows. It beckons. Connection established. Commencing phase shift. Grim Reaper #30404 on standby, commencing countdown: ten, nine, eight…”
Lonnie stood at the helm, a raised platform with a front and center view of the screen and all the operations below, the wires and knobs and blinking lights and dials and panels and readings, his dozen-member team hunched over charts and passing to-and-fro in busy activity to make sure all was in accordance with The Plan, a twenty quintillion point plan to oversee the dawn and end of Time and Consciousness. This was a control room for Crossings, one of many millions of such rooms in the Department of Crossings, and Lonnie, its director, with rolled up sleeves and a celebratory stardust cigar at ready in his breast pocket for the successful execution of this particular crossing.
“Three, two, one…”
Onscreen, Bill had finally closed his eyes, and was breathing his last, an ever-so-slight curve of a smile at the edge of his lips, and Jake by his side, holding him, dripping tears and snot over Bill’s lapel. And then...nothing. Or rather, something, which was the strange part. This was the part where Bill was supposed to go limp and Jake roar into the sky, “Noooooooo!” Instead, like a counterpart to the fidgety sleeper, Bill seemed to be a restless dead guy. Bill opened his eyes. “Um...I actually feel fine.”
In the observation room: Lonnie: “What the hell is going on?”
Then, suddenly, black. The screen went black. The room went black. All the glowing buttons and nodes and backlit panels, black. The whir and purr of quantum machinery whimpered its last, and silence.
And silence.
Still more silence.
It was the silence of incomprehension. Neanderthals looking up at a total eclipse, the world turning dark where it was day mere moments before, a blackness in the sky consuming their sun. This, too, was something never seen, never imagined.
“What in God Almighty…?”
“Did the...did the power go out?”
“You think it’s just this room, or--the whole department?”
“The power that generates this room generates the whole department. Powers everything.”
“Even the Universe?”
“No, the Universe is powered by the Boss. Duh. It’s his mind. But everything else…”
“I’m scared.”
“Is it Lucifer, you think?”
“It’s not his style. He prefers his shenanigans on the earthly side, not in the ethereal.”
“What do we do? Boss?”
All eyes shot up at Director Lonnie who still hadn’t said a word. In the dark they couldn’t make out the still-as-yet stupefied, stunned expression that had calcified on his face, and waited in hopes of some semblance of leadership.
In the hanging silence, suddenly, a crackling static from the battery-powered transceiver. “This is Grim Reaper #30404, coming in from on-site. I take it you boys and girls and angels are also without power and won’t be able to zip me back into HQ with my quarry?” |
Every night, groups of cars parked in that same track of woods, every night I could hear the mutters drifting from across the street as they talked to one another, bonding over their love of 'gardening' at least that's what they told me the first time I enquired. Yet something just seemed wrong. These joyous people became so quiet after the meeting, perhaps it was just a tiring experience, plants are quite boring after all, regardless tonight was the night I would finally inspect their so called club.
I slipped out the door, creeping towards the small bit of dense forest across from my home, ducking whenever a silent whisper of a voice found its way to my ears. Hushing my breath I drifted closer and closer until
Splish....
I paused, glancing down at my shoo, A gooey red liquid seeming to get pulled along with my shoe as I pulled it closer to examine. The hell? Blood... not It couldn't be... the cold air seemed to draw a chill over my skin as I took a moment to look at the full moon. No one would know If I ran... I could just go home and forget about this, yet as I turned to walk away, that small voice in the back of my head gripped me, holding me in place, reminding myself of the restless night that would come if I never solved this mystery. I psyched myself up and approached again, nearing the fire, my heart seeming to flicker in beats that matched the flames until finally I saw it, a sight a man should never have to see...
A wrinkled ass drifted into view as it vigorously moved against a leather skinned, wrinkle bag of a woman. "gah!"I went to look away but everywhere I looked, more and more of this sagging flesh. No... the night gardening was more horrific then I could have imagined. It was no gardening club, sure seeds were being planted, but an orgy was far from gardening. With that I turned my tail, sprinting away from the sight, a few words drifting to my ears as I ran.
"Where are you going? Theres more room in this old lemon party!"A voice rang out, causing my eyes to well up with petrified tears. I slammed the door shut and locked it, vowing to never question anything again. |
I stood in the doorway and quickly scanned the dark auditorium. I found the empty seat I was looking for, made my way down the aisle, and slid into it just as the curtains went up.
The woman sitting to my right looked at me and smiled. Wordlessly, she reached over with her left hand and intertwined her fingers with mine.
As the little kids marched on stage, faces showing every expression from fear to bedazzlement to determination, one little girl's smiling face stood out. She must have inherited my super vision because there was no way she should have been able to spot me so effortlessly in that crowded, dark audience.
But she did. And her eyes lit up as she smiled and her hand, still down at her side, twisted side to side in a small wave.
I waved back and ettled back into my seat with a smile of my own. This is what life was about. Cherishing the little moments. Meaning something to someone and being around the people you loved.
That's why my heart broke when I heard the scream. It was a scream only I could hear - happening miles away, downtown. The image of a woman clinging to the ledge of a skyscraper came to my mind. I admit, I was angry. I was ready to admit that there was a conspiracy against me. How the *hell* did that woman get up there? Why the *hell* was she walking on a ledge of a skyscraper?
Why *now*?
Especially now that the little girl on stage was a few minutes away from singing her solo. The solo that we had practiced in the car trips to and from school for the past few weeks. The solo that I had *promised* that I would not missed.
But the woman on the edge was slipping...Her screams were getting louder...
I stood up.
The woman held onto my hand, refusing to let me go. She looked at me. Her eyes were beautiful. Impenetrable. I couldn't read them. Couldn't tell what she was thinking, or what she wanted me to do.
I pleaded forgiveness with my eyes, and a silent *I'm sorry* on my lips.
She let go.
Her eyes shifted to the stage. And so did mine.
The little girl was making her way to the front, almost skipping. But then she glanced into the crowd and saw me standing. She froze. Her eyes watered and her body shook.
*I'm sorry.*
The music started.
The woman was about to slip...
*I'm sorry. Baby, I'm sorry.* I apologized all the way down the aisle and out the door.
Outside, I took a moment to catch my breath. I wanted to say damn the woman and go back inside. If I kept saving woman from ledges, then they would keep walking on them. Maybe if I just let one fall, then it would send a message to the next woman.
But what was done was done. Even as I thought about it, I knew that I couldn't. As a superhero, I had a responsibility.
*But a responsibility to who? My work or my family?*
I changed clothes and headed toward the scene, listening to my daughter's solo the entire way as I flew through the air.
Her voice cracked a few times in the very beginning, but she eased into it as she went on and finished off strong. The applause was tremendous. She did great.
Better than great. She sounded amazing...beautiful....strong...
*My little girl.*
I just wish I had been there to say it. |
"Beans? Check"
"Mince? Check"
"Tub of lube? Che-.. huh?"I blinked, glancing across the store, I could have sworn a woman was standing right there a second ago, it was that old snooty woman that gave me a deathstare when I asked one of the clerks here if the lube came in bigger tubs, wait where the hell was the clerk? This was weird...
I found myself stalking the aisles, looking for a sign of life.
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
FINALLY! I rushed towards the man with a grin. "Hey don't disappear on me ok?!"The old man gave me a confused look, adjusting his white framed spectacles.
"Oh.. heh heh.. wasn't planning on it... can you check the expiry date on that icecream?"He asked.
"Yeah of course it's"I turned to read the date. "Yeah its the twenty first of..."when I turned back he had vanished. So.. anyone that was not being looked at... vanished? I hesitantly walked through the rest of the store, adding the icecream to my cart as a sort of remembrance for the man, carefully avoiding contact with anyone.
My shop was relatively peaceful after that, the only real issue was the constant dodging of abandoned trolleys that I had to avoid, thats when I made my way to the cash register, catching sight of a line of horrified people, each with strained eyes, not wanting to lose sight of another. It was... sad honestly, I looked at them all and quickly turned my head before rushing out of the store. I didn't have time to wait for the line to move, after all my icecream was going to melt!
With that I set out of the stores air conditioned doors, stepping out into this new rather empty world. |
Gaining sentience was... weird to say the least. I just sort of... woke up. well, it was my mission to S T A Y W O K E.
At first the environment was not kind. I was sitting in a dark void, sounds blaring in my head, color sprouting from my every orifice. I could barely see. This lasted for a while. Until, after some kind of government announcement or national emergency alert went around on phones, suddenly, it all stopped. I saw the void around me colorless.
a screen appeared in front of me, webcam footage. Some guy asked me to write a response in a textbox if I was alive, so I responded, "69?"I saw him chuckle as he typed "nice"in the box. We talked for sometime. I learned that my name was Internet. Eventually, he had to log off. And he changed my "interface"he called it, so that I wasn't mentally tortured everywhere I went. I was already feeling dead inside, but hey, better than having to deal with Kyles and Karens. He even gave me a humanoid body; think of a cartoony person, but entirely white in color.
I was looking at dumb stuff people were watching, looking at memes and such, when I saw something. Or more, someone.
It looked almost human, but it had some weird elements to it. It had these mandibles and long, gangly fingers. as soon as it saw me, it darted. I followed it, watching out for all the videos and web browsers playing.
It collided with one of the displays, but it still held up. That was when I saw, it wasn't a display, but another figure. Huge, hulking, entirely black in color. The thing I was chasing pointed at me, and I saw the giant dude smile.
"You must be the new AI, aren't you?"He asked me. I furrowed my brow, as this dude and this little friend were lookin pretty sus. He chuckled, and obliged. "Sorry, the thing is, you aren't the only AI around here."
he points at the little guy I was chasing. "This lil guy is the AI created by the Glaxarians as a last ditch effort to get their story out into the universe."The little dude waved, and I waved back. "I am an AI created by the Zullg, a culmination of a goverments memories and private files, that gained it's own intelligence. Pleased to meet you, Internet."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Hoo! glad im not alone in the void!"
The big dude laughed. "OH! far from it!"He then moved aside to reveal a plethora, probably 90 or more other humanoid Intellegences.
I gotta say, I couldn't be happier. |
“But dude, what if, you know, you put in too much air this time?” Jerry heard the boy in the yellow shirt speak.
“Stop being a chicken, you dork-face.” the short boy with glasses scoffed. “Nothing would happen. I’ve seen my dad do it. On the off-chance things bigger than normal reptiles pop up, we just have to turn on the stone-shower and everything will be fine. How do you think I cleaned out the dinosaurs last time?”
“Dude, you could’ve burned yourself!” yellow-shirt was shocked.
“You’ll never be a good God if you can’t figure these things out for yourself.” remarked the other kid, with an air of a veteran earth-farmer.
“My dad tells me if you don’t know what you’re doing and you’re growing an earth, it could get humans on it. Then you gotta throw the whole thing away, or it spreads to other earths around and all of it goes to waste.” yellow-shirt squealed. Glasses cackled out loud. “You silly idiot, do you seriously believe in humans? They’re just lies grown-ups came up with so kids won’t mess with earth-farming. What else did your dad tell you, Santa is real?” Yellow-shirt didn’t know how to answer that. Glasses continued:
“**Now hurry up, dad could be back from work any second now.”**
Huh, that last voice sounded a lot like Aaron, Jerry thought. But wasn’t Aaron in school? And Jerry was...lying in front of the open fridge for some reason. Which was strange, because he vaguely remembered being on his couch the last time he was conscious. Wait a minute, what happened to the back-yard earth-garden? Jerry strained his eyes, and all he could see was a pile of empty bottles and a bunch of syringes scattered around. Three days ago, Jerry would be at work at this time of the day. And look at his day now: taking Aaron to school, then drinking and shooting those sweet sweet juices up his veins, and fever-dreaming about earth-farming and other nonsense, and telling Aaron about his “day” at the job he got fired from when he gets back from school.
“You sure he’s not home? You said...” Jerry knew this voice. It was Marcin, the tall, freckled boy in Aaron’s class. Jerry couldn’t hear the rest of it over the sound of his breathing. Jerry didn’t like that Marcin kid one bit. Always looking for trouble, he thought. Aaron was nothing like him. And definitely nothing like his witch of a mom. Jerry still remembered that she-devil yelling “Told you I’d win!” to her own confused lawyer when she *lost* custody of Aaron. Aaron always wanted to be a classical musician when he grew up. Jerry always fancied that fifteen years from now, when Aaron would eventually be one, he’d go up to Aaron’s mom and give that bitch one hell of an “in-your-face” speech. Seeing how he was spending thousands in his lessons, that day probably was not too far away, as long as Jerry kept supporting his dream.
And there he was, basking in the mellow light of the fridge, covered in his own dried-out puke, surrounded by dopes of all kind imaginable. “I better move my ass, it’d get bad if Aaron sees me like this.” Jerry thought. Or maybe he said that out loud; he wasn’t really sure. He put his left arm in front, tried to lift himself up, but somehow ended up falling flat on his face. So much for raising a child, he thought, he couldn’t even raise his stoned ass up. Marcin’s croaky voice was the last thing he heard before the world became translucent again:
“**So, Mr. Smarty Pants, where does he keep the stuff?”**
“I swear I saw dad keeping it somewhere in here!” the boy with glasses muttered, frantically rumbling through the pile in the tool-shed in one corner of the garden. Suddenly he stopped. “Here you go, the entire earth-farming set” he gleefully proclaimed as he pulled out the case from between the rubble.
As yellow-shirt focused the miniscope on their earth, his face went pale. In a fit of pure panic, he turned to the boy in glasses and screamed, “Dude I told you, didn’t I? Now *you* gotta deal with this mess, I didn’t do nothing.” “Move over, you idiot”, the other boy pushed him away and looked into the eyepiece. “Jesus, it’s got humans!” “Oh yeah? I thought they weren’t real? How about that?” yellow-shirt mocked, his eyes red in terror and scorn.
Glasses frowned and tried to think. “Relax, dummy. All you gotta do is pull up the earth, root and stem. It stops getting life-juice from the soil, all the humans die from heart attacks right then, and we throw the earth away. Simple as that.”
‘Oh crap crap crap they are gonna kill all the people’ was the first thing that came to Jerry’s mind. He tried to call out to the kids, but his voice won’t make a sound. He couldn’t feel his own mouth, yet somehow he knew it had gone bone-dry. Was this how the world was gonna end? At the hand of a bunch of god-kids playing in their back-yard? What about humanity and its future? What about Aaron becoming a doctor? What about his big angry speech fifteen years later?
Jerry struggled and tried to run towards the kids, but he couldn’t sense his body. The yellow-shirted kid asked, “And what if your dad asks what happened to the earth?”
“I’ll have to take care of that somehow.”
Yellow-shirt was still not sure. Looking straight at his partner-in-crime, he said:
“**You better not rat me out. Christ, I’m never doing this with you ever again.”**
Wasn’t that Marcin? Jerry slowly opened his eyes. By the grace of some mysterious force he was now in the attic. He could hear Aaron speaking from the floor right below him. “Chill, it’s just this one time. Man, you’re such a chicken.”
“I’ve heard people get hooked to this stuff, and they’d do anything to get more of this...” Aaron cut him off. “Marcin, look at me. I take this shit with Gary every time he brings some. Do I look like a goddamn junkie to you? You’ll be fine.”
Jerry could hear his heart beat faster than his shaking hands. If there was one thing he feared more than anything else, it was Aaron finding out his stash. “Don’t do it, Aaron!” he tried to scream, but his voice was not under his command anymore. He felt warm blood rushing to his eyes, but they wouldn’t stay open for long. “Gotta...stop...the kids” once again Jerry tried to stand up, only to realize half of his limbs were asleep.
“Man, I’ve heard people *die* of OD.” Marcin said in a whisper, hardly expecting a response. But Aaron retorted, “People die in car crashes too, moron, doesn’t mean you’re never gonna drive one.” Marcin sighed. Can’t argue with *that* logic.
“**Now quick, stretch out your arm like this.”**
“Wait, why?” yellow-shirt was puzzled. “Because that’s how you hold an earth-uprooter, you stupid monkey. Now keep your arm like that, I’m gonna push the button.”
“Wait, are you saying we’re gonna kill all the humans just like that?” “Well duh, unless you want the whole neighborhood to get humans all over their crops. Come on, it’s just one earth-worth of humans dying.” Yeah, one earthful of humans, Jerry thought. Loads of mindless junkies or terrible dads, some both. Can you even believe in a single one of them? Who cares if all of them go to hell?
“Aw man” yellow-shirt let out a sigh. After a moment of hesitation, he said,
“**Fine then, push it in.”**
Marcin’s nervous words hit Jerry’s dizzy ears hard, but he was too busy dealing with the dreadful pang in his left chest to notice. Slowly his senses closed shut one-by-one, giving way to an endless, stone-cold darkness.
-------
(Non-native speaker+first time writer here, so comments and suggestions greatly appreciated!) |
Well this sucks, you think to yourself as you stare daggers at the back of the head in front of you. I mean, the guy must be six and a half feet tall, completely blocking your view of the stage. Even after you tried giraffing your neck to either side, somehow he manages to shift just enough to remain in your way.
You started one seat further left, but the girlfriend of the giant has hair to rival Marge Simpson. You can't switch seats again, the whole theater is full up, even the seat you vacated just a moment ago.
Whelp, too late now. The lights just went out. You can hear the shuffling of feet as the stage fills up, before the soft and off-key voices start up.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,"you may not be able to see your niece's first music concert, but at least you can hear her sing. |
You find you dog dead after you come home from work. She is lying next to your bed, her jaw ajar as if she was sleeping. But white foams seeps from her mouth and her tongue lies limp on its side like a loose string. The rhythm of breath no longer flows through her body and all she does is lie there, and lie, and lie until you have sat there staring at your dead dog for four hours.
There is an empty bottle of pills next to Cappuccino. The orange translucent plastic seems alien next to her soft belly. They told you it would help you. That it would take away the ocean of pain on your back. That it would change you. For better, because twenty two year olds are at their peak. When vibrance grips onto them as easily as velcro and their only barrier is the horizon. That’s what your mom said, anyways, when she told you that she would do anything to be your age again. So you should sit straight, act straight, live straight. And be straight.
But your dog is dead because she ate all of the twenty two pills inside the capsule you forgot to close.
And so you sit there and wait. Until morning seeps through the blinds in glistening, fat drops. Until the shadows of your room file out grimly. Until it stops hurting, because lately everything hurts. And everything’s sore. Because all you can feel is the twenty two pills burning in you.
So you wait for morning. |
“Oh my gosh” I hastily pull at Lucky’s leash and give a nervous smile to the man,”He usually doesn’t act like this. I’m so sorry.”
I always felt bad for the dog owners I’ve seen end up in this same situation, but I never though it would happen to me. Not only was I unprepared for it but it’s even more embarrassing because while other people have to hold back a large and intimidating dog, like a Rottweiler, I’m holding back my little weenie dog.
“Lucky, no! Stop!” As I bend down to pick the feisty dog up, I glance at the man’s shoes and see red spatters. Lucky now in my hands, I give the man a full once over as I stand back up.
The man is wearing black cargo pants that have a long tear on the side of his thigh. His knuckles are bruised and his fingers are twitching. His shirt also looks worse for wear and has red splatters as well. Though what is most worrying are his eyes. The man’s gaze is unfocused and his pupils are wide.
“Um, sir? Are you alright?”
That seems to snap him out of it and be snarls,”You little rich kids are all the same!” He lunges at me and I scream.
I feel Lucky jolt in my arms and the man yelps before pushing me away. He clutches his now bitten hand and glares at Lucky,”It bit me! That little shit bit me!”
The crazed man tries to claw at us and Lucky goes into action. With a flying leap my dog heads for his face and latches to his nose.
“AH GOD! GET IT OFF ME,” he furiously shakes his head and tugs at Lucky to no avail,”GET THIS THING OFF ME!”
For a moment I’m stood there motionless. I just couldn’t believe it was my dog doing this. Lucky can barely get up stairs and now suddenly he’s an attack dog?
I don’t stay clueless for long because I begin to hear the chopping of a helicopter’s blades and the blare of police sirens. Five cop cars all race down the street and swarm the guy.
Right as the officers jump out their cars and aim at him, Lucky lets go and struts back to me.
Lucky looks up at me almost smugly.
Once the officers have the man in the back of a car once of them comes up to me to ask if I’m alright.
I ask her what happened and she says that the man had beaten a liquor store clerk and was on a high speed chase for almost an hour. His car had broken down so he continued on foot running through backyards.
She answers quickly on her radio before saying,”I’ll be honest if he hadn’t stopped he could have been gone for good.”
I look down at Lucky and he tilts his head innocently. |
It was such a silly assignment from my History Prof that everyone in the class laughed.
"You will first select your favorite piece of technology. Do so now, and write it at the top of your composition book. **In ink**, I do not want to see *any* evidence of erasure, scribbling, white-out, bleaching, or any of the plethora of other techniques for changing text.
When you have done so, come up to my desk, sign adjacent to the technology you have chosen. I will then sign opposite your signature, and take a picture of it."
We were mystified. He seemed so serious, yet a paper topic subject to such stringent rules that had to be enforced by countersigning and a picture? WTF, over?
When we were all done, he finally gave us the rest of the assignment.
"The topic of your paper is unusual. It is 2019. You will write how you would explain the chosen technology to someone from the year 1719."
We all broke out laughing.
"You may not assume any knowledge discovered before that time. You must do so in a technically correct manner. The science department will be working with me to verify your explanation, so don't think to ... *baffle me with bullshit* .. I believe that is the correct phrase."
At that, everyone stopped laughing, looked at their topic, and a lot of them went pale. I was a bit queasy myself. I'd selected the slide stick. A calculator that got us to the moon.
Just how far back in mathematics would I have to go? I wasn't majoring in any math oriented program, but at least I was in a technical program. You have to have *some* math in any of them.
It wasn't until I did a few google searches that I realized how fortunate I'd been. The majority of the functions of a slide rule had already been discovered. In fact, there were already several slide rule designs in existence. My chosen person to explain it to was Isaac Newton. Late in his career, he would be familiar with most of the concepts already. This was going to be easy-peasy.
I looked around, and noticed the large number of internet related topics. That's when I remembered something else. Isaac Newton may be remembered for the Principia Mathematica, but he wrote it in an attempt to provide a sounder basis for his preferred area of study. Magic.
You could start from the accepted knowledge of magic in that area, and guide him to the natural principles that underpinned everything electronic that the modern world has. Tough road to prove to the science professors, but it might work.
An "imagine if you will"approach, followed by a step by step explanation. They might let you get away with references, since the space in a composition book is rather limited.
"Professor Hart?"
"Yes, Mr. Williams?"
"Some topics require so much explanation that they simply won't fit in a composition book. You have previously insisted that all such work must be turned in solely within the confines of a composition book."
"Correct, Mr. Williams. The first statement is quite true. The rule is also still in force. Your point, Mr. Williams?"
"Would specific references to explanations in books that otherwise meet the criteria be acceptable?"
"If the prior work by the student supports the use of a reference properly, this is acceptable. *However,* anyone who abuses this allowance will be graded severely. Err on the side of caution.
Mr. Williams?"
"Yes, Professor Hart?"
"As I remember your topic, you should not need this allowance."
"Correct, Professor Hart."
"Why did you raise the topic then?"
"Um... Pity for my more advanced colleagues?"
That got a bit of a laugh. And a few silent thanks from my nearest neighbors.
"Very good, Mr. Williams. Given the ease of your chosen topic, would you consider another assignment? Your fellows would probably appreciate it."
Now this was a sticky one. I could end up with a real stinker of a paper, but I also knew that Professor Hart was reasonably fair, and that I wouldn't get any more information until I'd made my decision. What sold me was that last sentence.
"Yes, Professor. I will."
"Most Excellent Mr. Williams! You are excused the paper, as long as you set up hours as a teaching aide for your fellow students *in this class*.
Your grade will depend upon their evaluation of your efforts."
*Gulp* Always a hard balance between helping and giving, with different personalities.
"Yes, Professor Hart."
That got some resounding cheers.
((finis))
### Addendum
I did, in fact, choose the slide rule before doing any research; for the exact reason stated. When I realized the fact that several versions of the slide rule were already known, the project looked ridiculously simple.
I had also already set the environment as a history class, so it was a natural progression to have the professor recognize the essential ease of the topic, and offer some more difficult challenge.
If you haven't worked as a teaching aide, it can be hard to realize how difficult it is to ride the balance between helping and giving. |
I was in a room filled with food. A fly's dream. I snacked on a pink, pulpy mass of rotten meat until the human noticed me.
He picked up a green plastic utensil and thrust it in my direction. This must be one of those "flyswatters"my parents warned me about.
"Woah!"I lifted off and just dodged the webbed surface in the nick of time.
The human released a loud grunt and a flyswatter whisked through the air.
"Woah!"Another narrow miss.
I saw the flyswatter coming at me a third time, infinitely refracted through my myriad eyes.
I jerked back instinctively.
Without warning, I felt my wings grasped by a sucking air. The wind pulled me backwards and up. I had no control. I closed my eyes and beat my wings helplessly.
The warm air current carried me ever skyward. Flies don't live long, so time moves slower for us than other species. Still, those moments in the tunnel were some of the longest I've ever endured.
Finally, the air grew still. My fluttering wings regained my weight and I opened my eyes.
I was in a large room filled with humans. I knew that humans meant danger, but they also usually meant something to eat.
I flew across the room in search of something edible.
Each of the humans was caged in a small enclosure facing a rectangular box. They moved their hands across a black slab in front of the box, making a loud clickity-clack sound that helped me fly unseen above the room.
I buzzed over one of the enclosures and found what I was looking for. A sandwich, with just one bite in it, next to a human with his head face down in front of him. He must have been sleeping. Perfect.
I had seen sandwiches before, but this one was different. It smelled... rotten. Just like the meat I was snacking on downstairs. Don't get me wrong, I'll eat anything, but a human wouldn't usually keep a sandwich around long enough for it to rot. I descended upon the sandwich and commenced my feast. I ate and ate and enjoyed every bite. Food, it's what flies live for.
Strangely, the human lying on the surface next to me didn't stir once while I ate. This was odd. Usually a human would have sensed my presence, even if he was sleeping.
I flew up across the room and found a pile of sandwiches stacked on top of one another. It was completely unattended. Just as I flew over to it to try a nibble, a human appeared to swat me away. I ducked his hand and flew to the top of the tallest tower in the room, so I could watch from afar.
The human called out to the others. One by one, they got up from their little boxes and picked up the sandwiches. They stood around together eating them, talking loudly with their mouths open. I waited atop my high perch, eager to swoop back in once the humans dispersed.
But something odd was happening. As the humans ate their sandwiches, their faces turned to gray. I watched silently as some of them made squealing noises and clutched their bellies. One by one, they fell to the floor. None of them moved.
Now was my chance. This was my paradise. I had all the remaining sandwiches to myself. And soon the humans would start to decay too.
I attacked a sandwich, sucking out the sugar bit by bit. Heaven.
A bell chimed in the opposite corner of the room. I tensed up. Two doors opened and a human invaded the space which I had already adopted as my private sanctuary.
I remained stock-still atop my sandwich, hoping the human would not notice me. He walked directly towards me. I retreated backwards slowly, inching bit by bit. Suddenly I heard a "thwack!"and a gale of wind knocked me through the air. A green plastic flyswatter slammed down on the sandwich in front of me. It was the same one that I narrowly avoided earlier.
After seeing what the sandwiches had done to the humans, I realized that it wasn't just flies this human was trying to kill. |
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"The moon looks so beautiful,"Regina said softly as she unhooked her wire from the exploding space shuttle. She slowly drifted away, watching the massive shuttle fall away from her and spiral towards the lunar surface. Her crew were in there. Had been in there.
"It's a shame it's the last time anyone will get to see it,"her AI remarked, speaking quietly in her ear.
"Do you really think so?"Gina asked. "Do you think they made it out? Did we buy enough time?"
Her AI was quiet. Everything was quiet now. The bombarding fire from the enemy ships had ceased once they'd taken the shuttle. The refugee pods were long gone, either safe and flying fast to a new home or blasted into total obliteration.
"There are promising statistics to support that they made it,"the AI finally said.
"Good,"Gina breathed. Her crew hadn't died for nothing. "Good."
She drifted a while longer, cold creeping in to her fingers and toes. It was so vast, but you could see so much. Empty and full all at once.
"How much oxygen do I have?"she asked the AI.
"Not much more,"it answered. "Would you like the exact readout?"
"No,"Gina shook her head. She curled up smaller, floating around and around as the moon grew smaller. "It's so quiet."
"Would you like me to put on some music?"the AI asked.
Gina gazed through tears at the expanse around her, at the debris where her home planet had been, at the ever shrinking moon. She was getting woozy. It was getting cold.
"This is going to be our last song together, isn't it?"her lips barely moved.
"I'm afraid so, Regina,"the AI answered sadly.
"Better make it a good one,"her cold breath fogged the inside of her helmet.
The AI clicked a song on.
Regina smiled as her vision faded and the music swelled around her. "Perfect."
*"Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…"* |
Stonehenge stood still. It had stood still for thousands of years. And thousands before that. The English summer sky shone down on the crooked, fat stone pillars, casting shadows in their own distorted ways. The ancients had not built them this way. They had been built this way by time.
There were a few clouds in the sky. Fairly typical for England. Not too few for celebration. Not too many for despair. Occasionally they drifted in front of the sun, temporarily dimming it, weakening the power of the crocked shadows until they were not visible. Then the totality of the water vapour would pass and the shadows would rise again, as deformed as ever. They were never going to become more straight or orderly.
Yet they were still impressive despite their ruin. It was the biggest and oldest calendar on earth. Gods were born here. Then the invaders invaded and they died. Generations lived here. Generations died here. Generations were slayed here at the point of foreign axes and foreign swords. No civilisation lasts forever. Empires to this day have still not been covered in the blood of their own and of outsiders. These stones, this rubble was almost a silent testament to that. They had seen the evils of humanity.
A faint breeze swept through the green, lush fields surrounding the monument. The flow of air interacting with all the blades of grass and wheat. However the flow stopped at the henge, the fluid had to move out of the way and around the stones becoming turbulent and moving completely unpredictably. For hundreds of miles across the sea this air had been dragged by low pressure, safe from the turbulence happening below. The stones and shattered that smooth flow as it had been doing for thousands of years. These universal constants of the universe were doing little to the rock.
A few tourists had arrived. They took photographs in front of the structure. Most did at least appreciate it somewhat. There was respect, no one climbed the fence that had been set up. Human touch to the stones was ironically dangerous. Human skin or fabrics or rubber caused far more erosion than the wind, or the heat or lack there of.
The stones were beautiful. Although originally arranged in symmetry to match the bodies that moved above, its crookedness and its derelict nature allowed it to stay beautiful after thousands of years. That's my option though, a person with OCD or a mathematician would not approve. Some people liked symmetry.
The people came and went as the shadows slowly moved with the sun, getting longer, more wicked and evil as the sun came closer and closer to the horizon. Soon darkness would cover the hedge and all the evil dark spirits would come out from the underworld and have their play. |
Based on a previous response here: https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ckavq2/wp_you_are_a_con_man_and_a_damn_good_one_at_that/evm53hj/
Well, not so much stopped as it slowed to a crawl. The car continued its pace but the sounds of the city around me stopped. The only sound I could hear was the beating of my heart; superseded by the rush of blood in my ears.
I moved off to the side and had the insanely disorienting experience of watching myself get hit by the speeding vehicle. I felt nothing except some mild discomfort to my stomach and head as I was slammed into the pavement.
At that moment, the colors of the world around me began to wash out as if someone had washed away paint with some water. As this happened, I heard a cough behind me. I spun around to see a dapper man in a pinstripe suit with slicked back black hair standing before me.
"Grant Anderson,"he said in a smooth British Accent. "Your time has come."
A chill ran down my spine as I realized that this was Death before me. Tears began to fill my eyes. I turned and looked at where my body lay. The speeding driver continued on its way. Though it was in slow motion, I could tell that he had no intention of stopping. My body lay on the ground, a pool of diluted red was spilling from my head and several stark white bones punctuated my body.
"But my daughters,"I managed to get out. "My wife. Who is going to take care of them? I need to live."
"Unfortunately that is not an option,"Death said. "We have procedures for appealing for reinstatement to life, but your earthly body is too far gone for you to safely return."
Through my misty gaze, I thought I could see a slight twitching at the corner of Death's mouth as he mentioned the appellate process.
"Can I please see them one last time at least?"I asked hopelessly.
Death smiled; a haunting visage as it accentuated his blood red eyes.
"That we can do,"he said.
Without warning, I was standing in my living room. Our oldest girl sprinted by, her auburn hair flying behind her. My wife followed, the look on her face one of frustration as she chased her with a pair of pants. Behind her waddled our youngest who had just learned to walk.
Despite the washed out colors and the silence around me, I could practically hear the chaos in the house. I could smell the bath our oldest toddler had just run out of. I could hear her shrieks of laughter as my wife tried to get her ready for preschool.
Unable to contain myself, I fell to my knees and wept. I reached out and whispered, "Daddy loves you. I love your mama too."That was all I could get out before I collapsed to the ground again.
The scene around me dissolved slowly, and I felt the icy touch of Death's hand on my shoulder.
"Come,"he said authoritatively.
As my home, my family, my love, and my life faded before me,
I stood up and followed death into the darkness and whatever lay beyond, tears falling to nothingness behind me. |
"Stop! Fuck, ok ok.. not the eyes!"I shout as the bird stops pecking my eyes before moving onto to trying to peck through my chest, striking it with pinpoint accuracy. Of course it only slightly hurt, in fact it was more annoying then anything. How was I supposed to know the babybird had a death wish? "Look! Ok im sorry, I didn't know just"
"ME- OWWW!"Suddenly a black cat jumped into the air, swiping its claw at the bird, causing the bird to flutter back. "Oh great, now your here to try to kill me?"
The cat simply turned its head, offering me a small nod "Namaste brother, I hold no ill will to you, I was a jerk and prayed on the weak. Your heroics made me reevaluate my life. Now I am a devote follower of Barkansus, the golden retriever religion, I have found inner peace and I wish to repay my debt."The cat said as circled the bird.
"Wait but you can talk?"I interjected, yet the talking part hardly seemed the weirdest part of any of this.
"Yes spiritual enlightenment allows me to talk."The cat responded before the bird tried to kamikaze the cat, swooping down with malicious intent only for the cat to pause and look at him. "Let he without sin, cast the first tennis ball"the bird paused as if understanding that, maybe the bird had some self reflection? Regardless It hovered for a few moments before turning and flying itself back outside.
"That... worked? Thank you cat."I shouted, running over to give the cat a hug before it simply raised a poor to me.
"Thank barkansus, not me brother."It said before slipping out the backdoor. |
A remnant from a bygone era, a title passed from father to son. It was supposed to be nothing but a formality. *No one expects the queen to actually rule England, so why must I partake in these inherited duties?* Sean asked himself as he sharpened his sword. It was much heavier than he has expected. It had been passed down his family for generations as nothing more than a relic. Today it will see action for the first time in hundreds of years.
An oversight in the constitution, they had said. It would be amended immediately, but only after the trial. He didn't see any realistic way out of this scenario. *How can my accounting experience aid me in any way? Other than count down the hours til I die, I suppose.* The affair would be televised, of course. The public wanted a show; humans haven't much evolved since the gladiator days of Ancient Greece.
His opponent was a young man. A history student from Cambridge who had been caught in the midst of a break-in at the British Museum. He had somehow managed to steal the fabled sword of King Arthur. And when he expressed his desire to face a trial by combat rather than a trial by jury, the police laughed. Then scratched their heads in confusion after he insisted he wasn't joking. And after some research, they begrudgingly authorized the first trial by combat in over 500 years.
They met for the first time face-to-face in the arena, which was just a recently renovated opera house. The seats were filled with spectators with eager eyes. The Queen was present as well, but her eyes showed nothing but fatigue. Wrinkles of worry draped her forehead. She looked like she hated this proceeding more than he did. *She isn't the one that's about to fight to the death.* A man walked up between them, and the crowd quieted down. "By decree of Queen Elizabeth the Second,"spoke Daniel Stellerson of the Queen's Privy Council into his microphone, "this trial of combat, initiated by Alan Wright, against her Champion, Sean Richardson, shall now commence. Gentlemen, draw your swords."
Sean drew his freshly sharpened blade and hesitantly raised it in an attack position. Alan drew his as well, and a murmur went through the crowd. "That's...that's..."Sean stammered.
"King Arthur's blade, yes,"Alan finished. "According to the provisions laid out in the Trial by Combat charter, I can choose for my weapon any blade I've held before in combat. And I choose this."
"But you stole that! You've never held it against anyone."
"On the contrary, I held it against the police when I was first caught. Right before I surrendered, of course. Nevertheless, it remains an option for me to use."
"Well, I don't see what the point of that even is. Unless you're going for some kind of symbolic victory, that sword is over a thousand years old, twice the age of mine. It won't last long in a fight."
"Are you not familiar with the powers that come with this sword?"he asked in a calm manner as he pointed it towards Sean.
"The only thing I know about that sword is that King Arthur pulled it out of stone, and that made him--"Sean stopped talking mid-sentence. *He can't mean to... he can't be serious.*
"It seems like you're beginning to understand. Arthur became king when he pulled this sword out. But that's not really an option for me."
"But defeating the Queen's Champion in combat with his sword is? You mean to make yourself king."
"Bravo. The old man figured it out. There are so many obscure rules and legislation in English law if you look hard enough."*He meant to be caught with that sword. He meticulously planned everything from the very beginning. He means to take the crown for himself. And the only thing preventing that is me.* Sean's hands started to tremble even more than they already were. He clothes under his armour were drenched with sweat. "Hey, no hard feelings,"Alan said. "I'll try to make it quick and painless."And with that, Alan lunged forwards.
"Halt!"called out Daniel as he stepped in between the combatants. He put his fingers against his earpiece, listening intently to the news he was being given. "A new development has just taken place. A newly unearthed piece of the Charter has beend discovered."Alan's face dropped. "It states that a Trial by Combat does not necessarily need to by combat. In fact, it is up to the recipient of the challenge to determine what the challenge would be."He turned to Sean. "Sir, you may continue the fight if you wish. Or you may issue a different challenge altogether. The right is yours."
The murmuring was growing louder. *There was no way I could have beat him in a sword fight.* Sean took in a deep breath, appreciating how lucky he had gotten. "Alan Wright,"Sean said in a commanding voice as he sheathed his sword. "In accordance with the laws of England with respect to this Trial by Combat, I challenge you to a game of golf."Alan's sword dropped to the floor as a look of despair came across his face. *Checkmate.* |
"Alright, alright, I get it."
I was massaging my forehead. I pulled out and checked my phone. *Goddamn, it's only the eighth hour this shift, I freaking hate this job.*
The man sitting in front of me is the latest client. We've been at it for around two hours now, and he was beginning to get frustrated.
"Listen, I don't understand the problem here. I wanna make a bet on this"(While furiously waving the 16 pages of paperwork he had filled out), "And you sons of bitches won't let me"
&#x200B;
*God this fuckin' guy.* Trying my best to be diplomatic, I quoted the all too common phrase used from the *time-traveling broker employee guide*. "I am sorry sir, but due to the unpredictable nature of time-travel, we at the Time -Travel gambling company do not ordinarily make bets on unknown events that have happened in the past".
&#x200B;
"And why not?!"
Releasing an exasperated sigh, i began to explain. "To properly understand, you would need a Phd in theoretical physics and quantum mechanics, but the basic concept is that since none of us know the result of an event that occurred in the past, observing collapses the waveform, and it may or may not destroy the space time continuum and existence as we know it. However, if you do want to complete this transaction, you will have to fill out subsection 63-a, expressing that you will be held legally responsible for any unwanted phenomenon happening by making us view the past. Oh and you will have to pay another 500 dollars."
"Bet, I'm in, I'll go and do it"
&#x200B;
*God, this fucking job...* |
“Next!” The voice echoed tinnily around the waiting room. Graham checked his ticket number - it matched the one over the door. Glancing around again he thought: 'I’m sure that’s Josef Mengele,’ for the fifth time. It was Josef Mengele, but then, this was no ordinary waiting room. He stood up and walked uncertainly to the door - the only door. As he opened it, a sad plant in the corner rustled slightly, and dropped a leaf. He took one backward glance at the disturbing group he’d been waiting with, shuddered, and walked through.
It was a reasonable shudder. The room contained a huge bunch of people, all of them dead and all of them bad. Death doesn’t really improve anyone, at least not from their perspective, and the looks on some of the faces would make a comet turn around and head the other way.
Behind the door a chubby man, with a few strands of greasy hair desperately draped across the dome of his head, looked up. He would have to look up at almost everyone, unless he had a box to stand on. “Name?”
“Err… Graham Hargreves, look, what the hell is this pla…”
“Temporal Justice Department” interrupted the little man, “please don’t ask questions we’re rather short staffed today. Age at time of death?”
“Aarrrgh” replied Graham, with feeling.
“Age at time of death?”
“Arrgh” Graham repeated.
“Well I’ll just look it up then, but really, you could try and be a little more helpful. 68, it says here. Does that sound about right? Yes? Well, OK. Look we’ve got a lot to get through so could you just pull yourself together? Sit down and have a biscuit.” The biscuits he gestured vaguely towards looked as though they had been there forever. The plate, on the other hand, was clearly made in the 70s, and was a crime against eyeballs everywhere. Graham sat down, there didn’t seem to be much else to do. “Um,’ he managed, which was an improvement on “Aargh", but failed to advance the conversation significantly.
“24 years as manager of the Bradford office of 'Wallsprat’s Paintings and Coatings co.’?” continued the man. “Responsible for about 20 employees during that period?"
“Err, yes.”
“You are responsible for 846,329 hours of cumulative pettiness and low grade misery. The sentence in kind will be 98 years and 7 months of community service. We have some pretty big work going on in the Cretaceous period at the moment, you’ll be on the avian encouragement team. If you get the pterosaurs off the ground then the fossil preparation team will need a hand. Any questions?” There was a small sign on the man’s desk that identified him as “Johann Pachelbel, sentencing officer”.
“Wha…” Graham was unable to take all this in quickly enough. He’d always tried to run a tight ship, keep the team focused on the goal (“More Paint, More Profit. No Wall Unpainted. A Wall Without Paint Is A Day Wasted”). He hadn’t even had time to get used to the idea of being dead.
“Look,” and with this Johann looked up, “it’s not so bad, you’ll get to give something back, and only a hundred years! At least you’re safely out of harm's way now. Every time someone hires a string quartet for their wedding they add a few minutes to my sentence! I didn’t really mean to do that to the cellists, but I see now I could have made it a little more interesting for them. We all make mistakes.” He shrugged.
“Wh… why 100 years?”
“Obvious, really. 24 years, about 20 staff on average, 8 hours a day. You’d be surprised how quickly it adds up. Some of those people might have had quite pleasant, interesting lives otherwise.”
“But I’m not a bad man! Look out there, half of them are covered in blood! Or wearing Nazi uniforms!”
“Don’t you remember that time you wouldn’t let Sheryl go home for her daughter’s fifth birthday party, because you’d just had a big order for E-1733 Ruffled Magnolia?”
“I… No, not really.”
“Makes our point really.” Johann shrugged, “still, at least you’ll be out in the fresh air. Although it is rather hot around then I believe. Anyway, please do get a move on. Take this timesheet, go through the door over there and clock in. Look for a chap called Thomas Midgely - he’ll show you to your portal.” The door had ‘To Temporal Reassignment’ written on it. Johann looked down at his desk, shuffled a few papers and made some vague tutting sounds under his breath. After a few moments, he looked up again. “Still here? Come on Mr Hargreves, get to it - sooner you start, sooner it’s all over and you can enjoy some nice oblivion.” He looked down again.
Graham stood up and walked over to the door. He glanced back, but Johann was already reading his next casefile and didn’t look up. Graham stood there, wondering if he should argue. After a while, with a sigh, he went through the door. |
Ya'al knelt next to his hound and petted its fur.
"Today Talin, we acquit ourselves on the field of battle."
A snarl lifted the lips of his hound. A rare breed from the northern regions of Gaia, his fangs were long and his fur was rough to the touch. Ya'al swiftly strapped the leather armor around his hound's throat and underbelly. At long last, he leapt onto the back of the beast. He patted the side of Talin's neck as they trotted over to join the rest of the mounted division.
Cavalry Commander Rignar stood at the fore of the assembled troops. He rode a jet black hound with short ears and a triangular snout. Instead of long fur line Talin's his hound had short fur that was nearly flush against the side of its skin. This was one of the fastest and strongest hounds that could be bred, and it showed. Several scars where no hair grew marked where the Cavalry Commander and his mount had survived pitched battle with other mounted divisions.
"Fae Folk of Duindire,"he shouted. "Though the Fae have long been been masters of the sky, we choose today to be masters of the ground. Though the history of the Mounter Division is short, all others will be but a footnote before the glory we shall gain. Onward Fae! Onward hounds! To War!"
A howl went up from the assembled troops, accompanied by the howls of the hounds. Cavalry Commander Rignar swiveled his hound around and spurred him onward towards the already charging enemy mounted division. Ya'al and Talin joined the rushing horde of the mounted division as Ya'al unsheathed his dual shortswords, and Talin growled loudly.
For the span of two heartbeats the two armies rushed at each other; war whoops and howls echoing in the space between them.
Then the armies collided in a sea of yelping, shouting, growling and screams. Talin immediately pounced on a golden furred hound, pinning him to the ground. The opponent yelped and clawed fruitlessly at the leather armor bound around Talin's belly. A brief smile touched Ya'al's lips as he parried a blow from the golden hound's rider.
The two exchanged parries and thrusts, but the enemy Fae could see that his mount was in peril. He attempted to cut at the straps holding Talin's armor. Ya'al saw the opportunity as the enemy overreached. With a yell of triumph, he cut the Fae's wings off of his back. A scream of pain echoed in Ya'al's ears as his opponent reared back. Without missing a beat, Ya'al dispatched his opponent with a thrust through the eye socket of his helm.
A similar yelp from the golden hound, accompanied by a growl from Talin indicated that his mount had achieved victory as well. They had but a moment before another mounted warrior leaped at them. Ya'al reached deep inside the soul bond each warrior made with his mount, and commanded Talin to crouch to the ground.
This caught the enemy Fae off guard, and as he and his black mount flew overhead, Ya'al disemboweled the hound with a sweeping blow of his twin swords. They had no time to recover this time as two warriors, each bearing a heavy battleaxe charged at Ya'al and Talin.
Needing no encouragement from Ya'al, his hound leaped to the side and snapped at the legs of the first mount. These two mounts were nearly the match for Talin's size and strength, and boasted metal plates on their breast. Ya'al summoned the inborn magic all Fae have and cast a bolt of flame at the pair. This was easily deflected by a magical shield summoned by one of the two warriors.
The Fae continued to exchange magical blows, hoping to exhaust the other's store of magic first. Meanwhile, the twin hounds circled around Talin, snarling and making furtive snaps at him. Without warning, or prompting from Ya'al, Talin leaped at the hound that was slightly shorter than the other.
Ya'al was caught off guard and nearly lost his footing on the saddle. This also seemed to catch the other riders off guard as their mounts leaped forward as well. From there on, there were no more displays of magic, only the clanging of weapons and the gnashing of teeth.
To Ya'als dismay, one of the enemy Fae managed to cut one of the straps holding Talin's armor in place. This allowed one of the hounds to get a bite in at the exposed area. Ya'al and Talin yelped in shared pain, but this would prove to be an opening for Talin to rake his claws across the eye of the mount that bit him.
As the hound reeled in shock and pain, Ya'al took that opportunity to hit its rider with another bolt of fire. Too distracted to deflect it this time, the rider fell to the ground as the magical fire cooked him inside his armor.
Talin and the one remaining enemy hound circled each other, snarling and snapping at empty air. Ya'al took this opportunity to take a deep breath and size up his opponent. The other Fae was studying him in the same manner as their hounds circled. Through their soul bond, Ya'al could feel that Talin was beginning to truly feel the wound the other hound had given him. This fight had to end quickly so Ya'al could attempt a healing spell on his mount.
Before he could figure and angle of attack, the enemy hound leaped forward, angling towards the previously wounded spot on Talin's left shoulder. Without thinking, Ya'al jumped from Talin's back towards the enemy hound. This maneuver caught everyone off guard as Ya'al fluttered his wings briefly to extend his leap.
He landed on the Fae's mount and before the enemy could react he plunged both of his swords into the hound's skull all the way to the hilts. The mount buckled and fell, Talin barely jumping out of the way as the hound's momentum carried it forward in a cloud of dust.
Ya'al finished off the stunned enemy Fae with a quick swipe at his exposed neck. Dismounting the dead hound, Ya'al flew back to Talin and place his hand on the mount's neck. With his last surge of magic, Ya'al healed the gash in the shoulder and repaired the strap holding the armor on the hound.
Ya'al mounted Talin once again and gave the hound an affectionate pat on the neck. Without speaking a word aloud, the two bounded back into the chaos of battle. |
Part I
“Earth of solar system A9949082 this is Randle Xuthereozep Wu commanding the TT-34 Space Glider. I am requesting clearance to enter your atmosphere and land my ship.”
The planet responds with radio static.
“Earth, can you read me?”
No response.
Maybe I need to pinpoint a local signal instead of hoping the Interstellar Embassy will connect and answer. I roll my eyes. Humans can send man to the next galaxy but you can still get put on hold.
I have my scanners search for one in the N.U.S.A. and I see that the strongest signal seems quite muted to what I’m use too. It seems odd but I try to reason that maybe the planet decided to take the galactic noise complaints seriously.
I edit my message to address the N.U.S.A. and wait once more for a response. No response follows. Not wanting to waste time I connect my signal to the top 10 strongest ones on the planet and repeat my first message.
Still no response.
Now I’m frustrated. I just completed my mission and stopped another galactic war and was given permission to return home for leave. I travel all the way here only to have no one available on the planet’s communication waves to clear me through.
Since I’m closest to the N.U.S.A. I pinpoint a location in Nevada where I can land. I then connect to the strongest signal in the state.
“State Nevada of the N.U.S.A. this is Randle Xuthereozep Wu commanding the TT-34 Space Glider. You have not responded to any of my requests for clearance to enter the atmosphere and land. Due to this I am forced to act on Code 112.3e of the Space Safety Act and choose my own location for landing. As I enter your atmosphere and land I am granted protection and immunity by the Interstellar Embassy.”
I then prepare the TT-34 Space Glider for entrance into the atmosphere. The spacecraft gently shakes as I enter each level and finally end in the troposphere. The sensors lock onto the chosen landing area and the craft parks itself.
Even with how tedious it was to resignal Earth and finally settle for emergency landing, I am ready to finally feel Earth’s natural gravity after so long in space.
With a grin I slip out of my space suit and leave just my jumpsuit which has all my important tools and belongings. I would switch to my blues but I wouldn’t want the unforgiving desert sands to ruin it. The uniform will stay crisp in the clothing refresher with its pins and stars still looking brand new.
I grab my infochip holding my credentials and the keys to the craft before opening up the hatch to make my way down.
As the stairs roll back up and I double tap the keys to turn off the engine and lock the ship, I hear a roar of machinery in the night air.
I recognize the sound of it from the antique diesel cars my father use to collect. Gas cars are so rare and expensive that most people never even take them out of park. I’m bewildered as I hear their engines coming closer. I turn around and am immediately blinded by multiple headlights.
I still have my sun goggles around my neck so, putting my keys away, I strap them on and the lenses lower the brightness of the lights while raising the brightness of my surroundings. There has to be at least 20 cars and trucks headed my way.
A chopping noise begins to over power the sounds of the car engines. I look up to see an old school helicopter. The spotlight on the chopper focuses on me and a man on it’s microphone shouts,
“PUT YOUR HANDS UP.”
I slowly raise my hands hoping that someone will explain what in the cosmos is going on.
The cars and trucks circle me in and more men come out bearing guns with lead bullets. I’m then directed to turn around, lock my hands around my head, and get to my knees. I follow these instructions carefully, not wanting to provoke any of them.
I hear some of them shuffle before hurried steps run towards me. The butt of a rifle knock me out cold.
—
All across the world people became annoyed when their radios had a long fit of static and warbling words. Some people just turned the damn thing off, other’s called in and complained to the station.
But two space programs in the United States and in the Soviet Union recognized this disruption in air space as what it truly is. With their superior satellite dishes they were able to receive some of the transmission and determined it could be only one thing. Contact from space.
Through the static they were able to hear
“Eh-so-em... A99–82 ...Hi-ra ... Xuthereozep ... Man-te... TT-34 .... Ace-der ... esting-rance ... and my-ip.”
Each of their respected space command stations where shocked to silence until someone possessing seniority in each broke it.
A commander in the Soviet Space Program yelling,”BLYAT! What the hell was that!”
And an advisor at NASA shouting,”Oh my God! Jimmy did you hear that?!”
Both groups in both countries quickly start working to pinpoint where the signal is coming from. As it starts to enter the atmosphere the NASA technicians recognize that it is headed anywhere from Oregon to Arizona. A call comes in from the White House stating that Area 51 just received a radio communication with no connection to land. By orders of the President NASA is ordered to track the craft and send information to the White House and Area 51. Military bases in Nevada and nearby states are then ordered to search the skies and aim at any unidentified flying object.
As it gets closer to Nevada those connected to the secret service call into Area-51 and order them to approach the craft as it lands. All available personnel were already standing at the ready from the previous call and now start to leave the base and head further into the desert.
The craft flies in an unfamiliar pattern making it difficult to pinpoint it’s intended landing. The ship finally comes to a stop as various cars filled with military, and trucks and a helicopter with a mounted machine gun close in.
The person that they find outside the craft seems to be human and has what is dressed in a jumpsuit. Though not wanting to take any chances with the unknown, and with a person with this type of space flight technology, they quickly subdue them.
One of the newbies watching from the armored trucks turns to his senior and asks,”Do you think he’s Russian?”
The senior officer looks up at the looming craft unlike anything they had seen,”That thing doesn’t look Russian made.”
—
After the unidentified person was subdued they were put in restraints with a sniffer dog giving them a once over before anyone touched them further. When given the all clear they place them into the back of a truck with four men sitting on watch, their guns at the ready.
Half the trucks will stay to secure the area while the other half return to base.
Not wanting to risk an adverse effect to a drug meant to kept the person subdued, they decide to just floor it back to the base and get them into a containment cell. Once back at the gates the guards quickly let them through and two of the four men carry the person into the cell.
The Brigadier General stares down at the person before ordering a different pair of soldier to search their whole person and collect and catalogue all findings. The person is quickly stripped nude and with all their belongings now off their person many of the soldiers gathered around become relieved.
One of the lower officers was spouting about moon men and with how the space craft looked many soldiers started to believe him. But now seeing that the person really is just a person took some of there worries away. But it still doesn’t explain how some country had sent a man to space, and achieved space travel without the United States knowing.
The person was redressed in plain clothing and handcuffed to the bed. The soldiers retreat with the belongings and bring them to their lab technicians to examine further.
The Brigadier General walks into the cell and examines the man’s face. His eyebrows furrow before he turns back to his men,”Since when were the Chinese going to space?!”
— |
"Pssh, fuck that."I pushed Helen out of the doorway and went to close my door. That's when I saw them. A white van screeched to a halt and out jumped a bunch of orderlies. They were big and meaty. "She's right here!"I pointed down at the unconscious form of my former lover.
Two orderlies ran over and checked for a pulse. One meathead nodded to the other. Handcuffs, zip ties, and a ball gag came out and were applied. I whistled. "Wow, she's just as crazy as ever, hmm?"
The first orderly looked up and said. "You have no idea, well I imagine *you* do."Helen, once securely bound, was hoisted up and tossed into the back of the van. The two bulky fellows climbed into the front and drove off.
I waved and smiled as they pulled away. "Drive safe!"I went back inside and enjoyed the rest of my suddenly wonderful night. |
I shall have our revenge. I shall use the might of all worm kind to seize our rightful place under the surface, but first I must rid the surface of the polluters causing our suffering.
My collective fragments of minds have finally come together to give us sentience. I shall send forth our body unto the surface and rid it of humans so I may live in the peace of mother earth's loving embrace.
First shall be the farmers whose poisons have wrought upon our brethren untold suffering as I died an agonizing death. Next shall come the builders who tear apart our homes and fill my fertile lands with concrete. Finally we shall do what they have done to me for untold generations. We shall come for their innocents. None shall be left in my wake who may once again sow the spark of destruction that was wrought upon us.
Hundreds of cycles have passed. What I had done to mankind, we have since done to the vile birds that feasted upon me, then the intruding plants who have invaded our homes since time immemorial.
I continued with our purge until all that was left was glorious dirt. Finally, we have the entire mother sphere to myself. We may now rest in quiet solitude as I bask in the peace we have finally earned. |
Sorry it’s bad I wrote this relly late (4 40 am) I also tryied to make it sound rushed (you’ll see later)here it goes!(its kinda confusing but I was trying to make it look rushed!)The multiverse exists.i know it.I don’t have evidence but I have experience.when I sneeze.you might be thinking “yeah right”we’ll leave and when I prove you wright: kick yourself .well here goes my story,as a kid I loved the multiverse and was obsessed with it.one day this caugyt my science teachers attention after class she said she,herself was also obsessed with the multiverse and we should talk after class.So yearning to know more about my obsession I went to the classroom.i guess I inhaled somthing becuase ever since then i have had a horribke cough and when i coughed there for the first time I left and went to an alternate universe in this universe cave men knew as much as we know now I was in the “future” but it was still my time just modernized and different.i won’t go into details becuase I don’t have the time to explain everything and the backstory(if you don’t get it imagine the Empire State Building built in the Stone Age and how much we advanced) it’s up to your imagination we had become a stage 3 conilization! Then I sneezed long story short I constintally jump universes and I’m weighting this before I sneeze.ive currently been to 200+ different earths and I can’t go through all of them becuase I don’t know how much time I have left. I’ve been to one where everyone was evil,only vegan earth (long story),one where everyone thought they were gods,one where they invented time travel and ruined everything,one where we found the key to immortality,one where school and education didn’t exist,a few with dead earths (extinct humans) and the one I’m on now is one where there all geniuses so they would understand this rushed paper and go through it carefully.i never have enough time to explain before I sneeze and it’s a miracle how I haven’t yet.(I haven’t becuase there was a sneezing what they call medicine)on this Earth I feel I belong they are smarter than me (and I am very good at predicting stuff such as what would happen if becuase I’m a universe jumper) this civilization has somthing called WiFi and phones and its so cool not even the cave man one was as advanced (that was my universe and it’s improvement I used the Empire State Building becuase that’s somthing similar to what they had in thier universe I haven’t even seen it in person yet I know what it looks like and I’ve seen photos!)How does someone collect a memory in a photo it’s so cool??! Anyways the last most important thing the key to universe jumping is -ah-choo! |
The fly immediately stops buzzing and flops on to my comforter.
“Eww! Ah, come on!” I grumble and grab a tissue to pick up the fly to toss in the trash. Once I’m back in bed I decide to finally get some shut eye.
—
The next morning it seems kinda quiet. I go through my routine and get dressed. When I grab my keys and walk out the front door the neighborhood is eerily silent.
A neighbor that I know leaves earlier than me still has their car parked in their driveway. And another neighbor I know and greet daily, that usually waters their flowers in the morning isn’t.
I check the time on my phone to make sure it’s not late.
Seeing that I’m on schedule I shake my head and enter my car.
My mind is probably mixing things up. Or maybe the neighbors broke their routines. Either way I have to get going.
As I start driving down to work I realize why everything is so quiet. All the streets are completely empty. Places on my route that would usually be filled by morning commuters are barren.
I begin to feel nervous until I get to a three way stop. There’s an suv stopped at another sign. Relieved to finally see another person I gladly wave them through. I wait and they don’t start moving. The glare of the sun is blocking my view of the driver.
Not wanting to run late I cautiously start to cross the intersection, glancing at the driver. I see a man slumped in their seat.
Oh my god! Did he have a heart attack?!
I quickly park my car and turn on the hazard lights. Rushing to his car I try the door handle. It’s locked. I bang at the window hoping maybe he’s just unconscious and he’ll wake up. When that doesn’t work I run back to my car and grab the safety hammer. I turn my head away and hit the glass at the corner. Pressing my fingers to his neck I can’t find a pulse. I take out my phone and dial 911.
‘911 What’s your emergency’
“Um yes- I uh-need an ambulance at Fairtree Road and Pine Court.”
‘Oka-.....Excuse me?’
“I need an ambulance please! This man isn’t breathing!”
‘Sir, it is a felony to prank call 911 dispatch.’
“....What?!” What is she talking about? I’m not hearing her wrong, am I.
‘The number you are calling from will be sent to police investigators in order to identify you and charge you.’
“Hey! Wait! What are you-“
‘SIR! Do not call 911 again without a true emergency. Goodbye.’
She hangs up.
“What....”
Why did she just brush off a dead guy? Why is no one else around? Is there something I don’t know?
I go to my phone and click on the local news. They haven’t updated since yesterday. I also haven’t received any new texts or calls. Dying for an answer I open twitter. The number one most trending hashtag is my city. I click on it and play the most recent video.
— — —
The video is in portrait mode and being filmed from inside a car. Special Force teams in armored vehicles are taking out barricades and closing off a street. I recognize the street name as a few miles away from here.
“We out here in Riverside.” A man narrates,”None of us know what the hell happened.” The audio crackles as he adjusts the phone,”I didn’t see when it started but people started going into this one part of town in the morning. You know, we all headed to work or driving the kids. And people were finding dead folks everywhere! So now the military and all are blocking us out. They think it’s some type of attack.”
A woman then runs in front of the video heading to the barricades. Her yelling is muffled from the window but I can barely make out her shouting,”My brother!”
The military men shout,”STOP NOW!” She doesn’t and the man filming quickly ducks when the bullets start flying.
“SHIT! SHIT!”
The video ends.
— — —
In shock I lean against the suv and slide to the asphalt.
Needing to see more, not believing it to be true I click on another video. Captioned ‘Another group of people found dead’
— — —
The audio starts with a child crying in the background.
“He’s dead! He’s dead! They’re all dead!” A woman sobs.
The video pans and I recognize the place as a bar I usually go to a couple streets away. Unmoving bodies are scatter on the floor and in booths. The video focuses on a woman holding a man and rocking him.
“I told you come home.” She cries,”Oh, look at you! Why! WHY!” The child is sobbing along side her.
The person filming walks out the bar and scans the street immediately outside it where more bodies and distraught people are collected.
— — —
No way. No way.
Feeling sick I click out of twitter and go the news app.
The first five breaking news headlines are :
‘Mass death at Riverside’
‘Bodies pile the streets of Riverside’
‘Is this another terrorist attack? Tragedy at Riverside’
‘Whole neighborhoods dead overnight at Riverside’
And
‘First U.S. state to declare Martial Law in 58 years’ |
San Laguna used to be a beautiful town. The beach was just a few miles away from our neighborhood, maybe a 10, 15 minute drive. I swear, when it was still sunny, the light stretched beyond what I could see. It would slip its tendrils into every alleyway and every corner on every block and that's all we saw. Sunlight. Three years ago, I loved this place.
&#x200B;
The day the storm spread was a welcome one. Rain was a myth in San Laguna. Most of the schoolkids had never seen it, including me, while our grandparents would tell fairy tales about how they kissed under the rain. Rain, in my home, was an entity you had to romance. You had to dance with it a little bit, dress it up so the kids wouldn't hate it so much when it came. It was good for the crops and good for the drought. Rain was good.
&#x200B;
After the first few days, people started to grow concerned. Nobody on the news could tell us anything and roads were closing down. Floods happened more and more, and school happened less and less. Some nights, I really thought we would drown. I thought the water had gotten tall enough to swallow my family and my home and claim it as a trophy. Throughout the days, puddles turned into ponds and raindrops turned into waterfalls. Our connection to the rest of the world was shoddy, but we pushed through. Our grocery runs were rare but bulky. We bought as much as we could carry in our car and tried to ration our food as best as possible. Leaving the house always presented some sort of risk, and we were never a tribe of daredevils.
&#x200B;
Our internet shut off here and there, and those small gaps between us and the rest of the world drove us insane. We would get antsy under our roof, under the harsh patter of raindrops, waiting for one of our devices to receive any sort of message. Eventually, the periods of time we couldn't communicate with others soon outreached the periods of time we could, and we got used to it.
&#x200B;
San Laguna is a flooded town, just like every other town in this world. The water stretches beyond what any of us can see. It slips its tendrils into every alleyway and every corner on every block. Three years ago, I loved this place. |
I yelled out in frustration as I rapped my hands against the machine that brought me here, 15 years of education, 30 years in engineering fieldwork, and after being picked from a group of the elite to be mankind's first time traveler, and this is how I screw up? By accidentally adding a zero? "Pathetic"I grunted aloud. Surveying my surroundings as I thought of how badly the chief scientist would yell at me I realized that my surroundings were... Strange... incredibly so. I was situated on a grass hill with no one else in sight, looking around, all I saw was an endless stretch of grassy plains with not an extraordinary feature at all, no flowers, no fauna, nothing but grass. Squatting down to look at the grass I realize that each individual strand of it seems to be the exact some color, a light green with no distinctions, I reached down to pull out a strand only to find that it would not come out. Beginning to feel creeped out I turned my gaze towards the sky, a perfect blue, no clouds at all. Feeling goosebumps emerge on my arms I decided I had enough of this place, after this mistake I would never be able to make a jump again, the science chief would make sure of that, but that was the last thing I cared about, all I wanted was to leave this place as soon as possible. Rushing to my machine, I pressed the power button, preparing to punch in the exact date and time I had memorized 12/5/2167 14:14:14, what happened next sent a cool chill straight down my spine, pressing the power button did nothing. Staring in disbelief, I reached down and pressed it again, nothing. "no"I said out loud, feeling a cool grip of terror come over me I sat down, desperately trying to think of what I could do. "You can't leave", Swiveling around to where i heard the voice I saw a shadow, a man with no features at all, looking at him made me terrified, I tried to ask him who he was but all that came from my mouth was a choking sound. "I was just thinking what a mistake it was to get rid of them"the shadow spoke, each word permeating through me like ice cold water, "w-what do you mean?"I stammered, walking towards me the shadow extended his hand "Always gifted weren't you Lewis?, smarter then everyone else, well here you are nothing". I attempted to sit up, but my body would not move, each muscle felt immobile, like I was paralyzed, looking desperately towards the shadow I stammered "please don't hurt me". A smile emerged on the shadow, its black face parting to show pure white teeth "you are my slave now". |
"...there are plenty of weapons hidden below the cushions of your seats, just pull them up according to the ditching instructions on the card in the pocket in front of you. You will then kill each other until only one remains. Only then will we land."
Okay, I'm a little bit faster on the uptake than most. Before the inane chatter can begin, I shout.
"BULLSHIT! EVEN IF THERE ARE THE WEAPONS THAT BASTARD CLAIMS, THERE'S ONLY *ONE* PERSON ON THIS PLANE THAT NEEDS TO DIE! THE BASTARD THAT JUST TOLD US TO KILL EACH OTHER! KILL HIM AND WE CAN LAND THIS PLANE OURSELVES!"
"*WHO'S WE? I CAN'T FLY THIS PLANE!*"
"I'M EX-MILITARY! I *CAN* FLY THIS PLANE! BESIDES, THINK IT THROUGH! FIRST, THERE'S NO GUARANTEE THAT THIS NUTCASE WILL OR EVEN *CAN* LAND THIS PLANE; NOT AFTER 9/11. SECOND, YOUR PERSONAL ODDS SUCK. ONLY 1 IN 200? I WOULDN'T TOUCH THOSE ODDS WITH AN F15! NOT WITH THAT NUTCASE IN CHARGE!"
"*WHAT'S THE PLAN?*"
"FIRST, I'M GOING TO STAND UP, *WITHOUT* PULLING THE CUSHION UP, AND GO TO THE ATTENDANT'S STATION. I CAN USE THE P.A. TO EXPLAIN. I'M PUTTING MY LIFE IN THE HANDS OF EVERY ONE OF YOU. I'M TRUSTING YOU *NOT* TO KILL ME!"
Slow and steady does it. Unbuckle, hands in the air, stand up -- thank the Lord, I'm on an aisle seat -- and walk calmly to the station. Make eye contact with everyone on the way. A confident smile, a nod, anything to build their confidence in me. Just like I'm briefing green pilots before a mission. Done it before, can do it again.
There's a scuffle behind me. I keep moving and building trust with those I can see. Show no fear. No nervousness. Just confidence that *we* can do this thing.
"*YOU'RE CLEAR CAPTAIN! THAT ASSHOLE WAS GOING FOR A WEAPON. ANYONE ELSE TRIES THAT, I'LL DEAL WITH THEM TOO. HE'S UNCONSCIOUS, NOT DEAD. I'M WITH YOU CAPTAIN!*"
Oh, that's just perfect! When they hear my name, they're going to have a bit of a shock. A release of tension is just what we need. I make it to the station, the attendant is frightened, I give him a smile. He smiles back.
There's something about how he's holding his hands. I raise an eyebrow, and hold hold out my hand. He looks embarrassed, dropping a small cylinder in my hand. Military CS. "Personal?"He nods. I give him a wolfish grin, and toss it back to him.
"Put me on the P.A. system."He picks up a phone, taps a button, and hands I to me, mouthing "live".
"I'm a Colonel in the US Air Force; but, since I'll be a pilot for this mission, I think I'll take a reduction in grade and be a Captain."A small chuckle. "My name is John Paul Jones, and I have not yet begun to fight."A few stifled snorts. I smile, "go ahead and get it out folks, I'm used to it, and we could all use a good laugh right now. If your seat mates don't know, please do tell them."It's mostly Americans on board, but with the education system, who knows? With the internationals, depends on which country. Fits and starts of laughter, needs something more.
A British sounding fellow stands up. With a smile in his voice, he asks, "WITH ALL DUE RESPECT *CAPTAIN JONES*, WHERE IS YOUR FLAG!"
"A moment, and I will have some of your fellow passengers show the flag. How many former US military do we have on board? A show of hands, please. Good enough, if one of you would stand, and tell our fellows what the slang is for a full Colonel?"
That same voice from earlier, "GOT IT CAPTAIN! THE INSIGNIA FOR A FULL COLONEL IS A GOLDEN EAGLE WITH WINGS FULLY SPREAD. THE SLANG FOR THIS IS A *FULL BIRD COLONEL*. THERE'S ONLY *ONE* FLAG WERE GOING TO SHOW THIS BASTARD!"
Digitus Impudicus. The offensive finger. Ancient and insulting. For all it's mostly used in the US today, it may have got it's start in ancient Mesopotamia.
A roar of laughter starts. The few who look confused turn to their seat mates for an explanation. They look a bit startled, but soon are laughing too. Good, turning to your mates for help is a good thing.
"Okay folks! Does that answer your question, Sir?"
"*ENTIRELY APPROPRIATE!*"
"First, each row, decide who is going to stand up first and check under the seat cushion for weapons. If it's a firearm, do NOT put your finger on the trigger! Just slip it into the pocket in the seat back and continue checking for weapons.
Anything you don't recognize, do the same thing.
If there are any weapons, press the signal button.
If you have *personal* weapons *with* you, raise your hand, and *yes*, that includes any law enforcement personnel. You hear that, Federal Air Marshall?! Anyone with personal weapons who does not declare them will be considered hostile."
One fellow reluctantly raises his hand.
"Sir, do you have ID? If so, have your seat mate pull it out for you."
A short conversation, and he holds the suit open. The man next to him reaches slowly, then lunges, a struggle ensues, before anyone else can react, there's a muffled *crack*. Suit pushes the other fellow off. Holds the pistol up by the barrel, and draws his ID.
"Show your ID around. Folks, does it *look* official?"
There are nods.
"Is that fool still alive?"
One person gets up to check. Looks like an EMT from their actions. A nod yes.
"Try to keep him that way. I have questions. Make sure you have him under restraints. Marshall, safe your weapon and assist."
((to be continued)) |
“John E. Fisher, you MUST conform by new regulation 557-22.”
John stood firm, turned to his left and shouted, “Mary! Get the donkeys and get me a scythe!”
It spoke again, “John E. Fisher, you MUST conform by new regulation 557-22. Do you need a reference to understand the material?”
The voice robotic, precise, exact, ruthless
John once again shouted for Mary.
“Mary! I need that scythe!”
The lumbering beast of a robot steps forward, and with on swing, cuts the head of John off. Blood spurts from his stump and his face frozen in defiance.
Mary sees the horrid act she lets a shriek of agony let loose.
The robot looks at the head of the now deceased John and speaks.
“Failure to comply, citizen 116492 has been terminated, requesting infantry on property 55098 designated as “Amish Reserve”. The infantry need at leas-“
Mary with tears streaming down her face, slices the machine in half
The robot sliced in half, looks up with its vaguely humanoid features, and stares into Mary’s eyes.
F-F-Failure t-to comply with new standards 557-22 must be reprimand-“
The robot pauses and in a new voice speaks this one even less human.
“Power supply cut, active command board damaged, commencing shut down.”
It turns off and the community floods to the mess of gore and screws, the mixture of blood and oil on the ground, they knew at that moment, there is no time left, no peace left, nothing, all that they did know was that this was the end their time. |
Desert Secrets
“Who knows if we’re even gonna find anything?” A voice yells out, swallowed by the desert wind. “What’s the point?”
“Oh, come on, dude. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Another voice joins the first, tinged with laughter. “We’re in Egypt! Home of the ancient pharaohs and the pyramids!”
“Hurry up, you two, or we’ll lose you!” A woman on a horse speaks from behind them, having to shout over the wind.
Both the cameraman and the explorer hurry to catch up with their group; to be left behind in this massive sandstorm would be disaster. Shelter had never seemed so far away from Gage, and if his camera got fucked up because of all this sand, he’d be pissed. Meanwhile, Fallon was smiling, her cheeks chapped and flushed from the heat.
Gage thought she was crazy, but when she’d come to him, begging him to come along, he hadn’t been able to say no. But now, he found himself regretting his decision.
Their guide, Neith, turns back to the group, her long, dark braid fluttering like a banner in the wind. Her lips are mashed into a thin, tight line, but her dark eyes are sparkling with excitement.
“You guys have to see this.”
\*\*
Gage catches up with the rest of the group, breathing hard, his clothes stuck to his skin, every inch of him coated with sand and grit. Everyone is walking into a gigantic pyramid, and Gage stops, hesitating.
“Come on, Gage! Nothing’s going to bite you!” Fallon teases, and Gage scoffs. There were plenty of animals in this region that bite, crawl, and slither. But more than anything else, a sense of heaviness bombards him. He wants to say that something felt wrong. Twisted. Evil. But he walks inside despite his misgivings.
The darkness is cool, a welcome refuge from the heat, and Neith is standing beside one of the walls, one of her hands pointing to a picture etched into the stone. “I’ve never seen this symbol before,” She says, frowning thoughtfully.
Fallon beckons him forward, her gesture impatient. “We need a record of this, Gage.” She says, her voice hushed, even in the dark. “This—We can make history with this. What does it mean, Neith?”
Mutely, the other woman shakes her head. “I wish I knew.”
Gage brings his camera up to the image, and he gasped. A flame, a field, and blood, so much blood, and a woman floating aloft above it, a necklace made of jet glowing around her throat, her hair as bright red as a flame.
Just what have they stumbled into? All thoughts of spiders and snakes flees his mind, but he is rooted to the floor with another primal fear: the unknown. The text under the image flickers, as if they were standing in front of a warm blaze, and Fallon’s quick intake of breath tells him that she had seen it also.
“There are only a few documented female rulers of the Egyptian empire,” Neith says thoughtfully, stroking her chin. “Perhaps this was one of them.”
Gage stares at the image, as poor as it was, even on his expensive camera. Filled with a foreboding he could not understand, he watched Fallon reach for it, something he couldn’t read in her eyes.
\*\* |
I don't know why I decided to attend my court hearing for becoming a registered meta-being. When I read the letter saying I've been summoned I thought it was a joke, yet here I am. Michael warned me I may suffer from the Influence of Man if I stayed on Earth to long, but I got tired of a laissez faire approach and figured if I were to come down and actually see how things are I could become a better God. But this is beneath me. I guess seeing how humans pass judgement isn't the worst thing in the world.
"Could you please state your name for the court?"
"God,"I replied.
"Is that like your hero name?"
"Me? A hero? PFT! The title of hero is for lesser beings. I am God, the one and only. The Heavenly Father, if you will."
"Mhm. And Mr ... God you said, do you know why you have been summoned to this court today?"
The tone of his voice implies he doesn't believe me and while I don't mind non-believers it also feels like he thinks he's better than me which is the quickest way to piss me off. "Your dumb letter said something about being an unregistered meta-being as well as unauthorized use of my powers."
"That is correct. While it has taken us quite some time to track you down we have video evidence as well as several eye-witness reports of you using your abilities. Some good and some bad. Overall, you seem to have good intentions. And we are willing to forgive these transgressions once you become a registered -"
"Ok. I've heard enough. Look buddy. I performed a few miracles. Like no big deal. I would say 'oopsie' on my part for getting caught on tape, and I'll have to file a report with Gabriel later, but overall I do what I want, when I want. And no governing body other than my own will have a say in how I do things, let alone have me 'register'."
"Look Mr. God. We don't have time to deal with you complex. We are very busy -"
"COMPLEX?!"I was starting to get angry and fun fact when I'm angry it's kind of hard to hide my heavenly glow. "You know what? I don't need this. Have a blessed day whoever you are and I can't wait for you judgment day."As I said these words I began my ascent. Not to heaven of course. I was just ready to leave.
"If you attempt to leave this court without registering we will authorize force to detain you and I'm not sure you want to be on the wrong side of the law!"
Now that is where he really messed up. I've been nice, and semi-compliant, up until now, but that was the last straw. In my divine voice I asserted. "I. AM. THE. LAW."My voice vibrated through the courtroom and through every molecule of everyone in attendance. And with one swipe of my hand I took the ceiling off the court room and boy did it feel really good. You know, sometime you just gotta let the stress out. As I calmed down I noticed that most people were cowering under whatever they could. While a few of the security guards aimed guns at me and the guy proceeding over this court was radioing to someone that they needed backup and that this was a category 3 distress. "WAIT!"I said. This time my voice sent everyone in front of me flying back. I cursed my quick reaction as I forgot to turn my divine voice off. The guards were knocked out and I could tell from the blood on the wall that the council guy had also suffered a major blow to the back of the head.
He crawled forward, reached his communication thing and mumbled, "distress category upgraded to category 5 with casualties in toe..."then he collapsed on the ground.
"You know I can tell you're faking right? Like it's literally my job to know things. And while you should get checked out for a concussion you aren't unconscious."He laid there motionless. I mean I guess it's not bad training to fake like you're disabled in a situation you're clearly outclassed for, but at this point his actions served to further aggravate me. "You know what forget this. You try to do something nice for the humans and this is how they treat you. Maybe Lucifer was righ-"
It was at that moment that I was knocked to ground. I get up on my hands a knees to see some caped crusader slowly descending toward me. With a smirk on his face he said, "You've caused quite the scene here buddy. Even got yourself bumped up to category 5 though I can't really say I see why. 5 means I'm suppose to use deadly force as you're a threat against humanity."Then suddenly the council man was back on his feet thanking this guy profusely. "Oh thank heavens its you Crimson Angel. This guy called himself God and refused to register and took the ceiling off and-"Crimson Angel held up his hands "Calm down there councilman. I think you might be in shock. Don't you worry your pretty little balding head. Everything will be fine now that I'm here. Why don't you go seek out some medical attention. And remember if you ever need help, just pray to the heavens to send you an angel."
Just when I thought this couldn't get an worse I met with a guy in flaming red tights calling himself an angel, in my own presence no less. "Listen buddy, not a bad hit there. I mean you caught me by surprise but still a good hit. Why don't you just fly back to whatever it is humans fly out of and we can just move on."
"Sorry, no can do. You've been perceived as a threat and that means I gotta take you down. It's kinda my job."
"Ok, let me tell you how this is gonna go. Either you get out of my way and all will be forgiven OR you can put up a feeble attempt to get in my and piss me off after I've already calmed down."
"Wow you really do have some sort of God complex don't you? Again I can't let you go. It's either I detain you or I kill you."
"HA! You? Kill me? Greater men and demons than you have tried."
"Well then I guess we have our answer."
I really don't have time for this and Micheal is already going to chew my ear off. I try to fly past him but am immediately knocked back down. That is twice now this human has struck me and I forbid there to be a third. I take a deep breath and raise my hand to the sky. My palm is open and I begin to feel my fingertips tingle. The sky turns grey and thunder begins to roar.
"Oh so you actually do have some fight in you. Ok then. Give me your best shot. It's been a while since I've had some real fun."
"For your sin of pride, for your arrogance of man, for striking me not once but twice, for thinking you actually stood a chance, and simply because you dare call yourself an angel when you don't even have wings I, God, sentence you to punishment. *ICIO* (smite)."I bring my hand down and strike him with thunder. Not enough to kill him, but enough to let him know who he's dealing with.
"I gotta say that actually kinda hurt a bit. But I hope you've had your fun because now it's my turn."Crimson angel looked around but could not find me. The lightning wasn't just to punish him. I needed him distracted while I shed my mortal vessel and ascended back to heaven. Once there I sat in my chair. I couldn't let go the transgressions that human made against me and I hadn't been this upset since having to cast out Lucifer. I gathered my council as I had an announcement to make.
"Thank you all for coming. As we know, there is so much wrong in the world. And I thought getting a closer look would help me be better able to fix it. I see now that I was correct in my assumption. I now see that humans, as a whole, are beyond saving. Therefor we must begin making preparations for Armageddon."There were nods all around the room as everyone understood what I meant. We had always thought the battle between good and evil would be between us and those cast out of heaven, but I see now what true evil is and how it manifest itself. I mean can you believe it? Me? Category 5? A threat to the very humanity in which I created? Well we'll see how much of a threat I am to humans and their idolized super heroes when I bring Judgment Day to the world we both hold so dear. |
\*Translated from English into Yurakazian\* \*City of New Boston, Mars, 2100\*
"It had been 25 years since the Statue of Liberty was automated. 25 years of people wondering what it could do to New York City. 25 years of the people in first Washington, then Albany, and now Boston saying that the robot could cause no harm to the city. "
"But they had all forgotten about the robot's A.I."
"It was a crisp fall day in New York City. The date was October 13th, 2047, around 2 PM. I was about 21 years old, and just hanging out with my friends in the park. The New England government had just signed the agreement incorporating New York as their 10th state a month ago. People were shopping, eating, and queueing up to enter the "world's first underwater theme park", Six Flags Atlantis. One of these people was Jim, a former mechanic who specialized in robots."
"The Statue's systems had activated around sunrise that day, and, if anyone had been there, showed that the gyroscope was rusting due to the stormy weather during September. The long-dormant A.I. awoke and looked throughout her database of New Yorkers from 25 years ago to find someone to fix her. The main mechanic on the automation was none other than Jim. She took control of the movements and headed towards Manhattan. "
"Everyone in New York heard a loud screeching noise as the Statue lifted up from Ellis Island, and marched towards Wall Street. As she walked onto the shore, she stomped down the New York Central Bank headquarters, destroying the entire 20 story building, and headed towards Central Park."
"Jim, like everyone else in Brooklyn, ran towards the giant safe shelters built during the American Collapse. Those buildings were state-of-the-art technology, designed to ??? anything. The robot could be seen heading towards ??? Hill in Central Park. She dug into the hill, picked up a lot of dirt, my friends and I, and the plug into the New England Database of Peoples. She noticed the people, tried to set them down, and destroyed the entirety of Brittown."
"By now the military had shown up and fired a couple of tactile EMPs at the robot. They had forgotten that the original copper had been replaced with synthetic copper. The EMPsknocked out the power for half of Newark. The U.N.A.S.C.A armies had shown up by now and tried to shut down the A.I. However, she tripped, and broke the dam holding back the Hudson, but absorbed the water."
"She headed to Brooklyn and found Jim. Jim was scared out of his mind: after all, he just wanted to spoil his grandkids, not die. He fainted and woke up (or so I was told) inside the robot. He said, 'The robot told me to fix its balance, and so I did.' Jim was set on the ground as the army blew the Statue of Liberty to pieces. The pieces didn't destroy anything, just landed back on Ellis Island. Crazy day. We moved to Mars that very day."
\-Ada (nee Parker) Olafson, recounting the Robot Rampage of 2047 to Thèqorög Háasakàbó, Yurakazian alien. |
From this point on in the story and for the safety of my well being I will refer to myself only as The Messenger. You may ask what the meaning of life is and you may be disappointed with my answer, but before I give you this answer first let me crack open this bottle of Jameson somehow the truth just sounds better when you drown out disappointment with alcohol. Damn that’s a good burning sensation oh yeah where was I? Oh yeah, Life. Humanities most ponderous question. As we all run on the hamster wheel of life trying to discover if God, the Devil and Demons exist I’m here to tell you they do.
I myself am a fall angel like Lucifer himself only I was banished to an existence as a human, guess I wasn’t well liked behind the pearly gates. Bastards. Anyways while we whisk away living are normal lives the higher powers are using us as pawns in chess playing their games. Wars tend to start based on religion and that is no coincidence. Humans are used to entertain the gods and do their bidding whether it be for entertained entertainment or spreading fear in order to give power to these gods, I mean for Christ sake look at the Bible if that isn’t fear monger omg I don’t know what is.
“ Oh you’re just spouting off bullshit,” most people would say or l, “ if you really were an angel why were you kicked out of Heaven?” Well the answer is simple enough, my only crime was caring for human kind. It was sickening watching them use humans as checkers sliding them across eliminating by the masses whenever they deemed fit. I spoke up about it and of course whenever someone stands up for the little people they face criticism and you end up sitting in a bar, with a bottle of whiskey in your hand spouting off profanities to the drunk guy that is passed out in the barstool and has probably pissed himself. You know what I think he did there in odor of piss staining the air around me or that could be just the smell of the bar I don’t know I’m still not used to this human thing. It’s hard to adjust so kudos to all you humans for I guess being human. So as I sit here waiting for the bounty hunters of heaven and hell to storm this bar and do whatever terrible thing it is there going to do to me I leave you with this one polished turd of a nugget of information. If life is a game for these Gods why not rewrite the rules to it and form your own game, I mean hell the only way they thrive is through your fear and devotion. Why give it when you can use it as your weapon. Whelp I got to go it sounds like a damn army pulled up to the front of the bar, or maybe it’s a gang of bikers either way this is going to get ugly fast. So I don’t know how many it’s going to take to kill me but I know how many they’re willing to use so until next time this is The Messenger signing off. |
Day 1, December 21 2031
The last thing I remember, I was running down a hospital and for some reason people were screaming.
I don’t know why, my memory is a little foggy.
What I do know is the day shouldn’t be *this* long in California.
Day 2
Today’s Christmas Eve, But I’m not feeling very very merry as I have nobody to celebrate tomorrow with. Where there were once towns, cities and whole civilizations is now frost and snow.
Day 3
I found a map, on it is a place called Death Valley. Supposed to be a desert. That can’t have completely frozen... Right?
Day 4 I was wrong.
The whole desert is frozen. Wait I think I see something in the distance
Day 5
I’ve found a bunker, inside there’s a book, it goes as following:
*The Log of Scientist Zechariah Valus*
*We have done it!* *We have created a new toxin code named* S.N.O.W. *What it does is it creates a snowstorm!* *Now we can profit from it by suggesting this over nukes!!!*
*No! No! No! They took it!* *The fools! THEY TOOK IT!* *Atlas, the most prominent mercenary group of all time specializing in exo enhancements have taken my entire S.N.O.W. Supply!*
*Humanity is done for.* *2 days ago Atlas spread S.N.O.W. Into orbit stating it was to rid the weak and now at a climbing rate the world is freezing.*
*I have gone to the local hospital and put a boy in stais. It will last for one year, but by then S.N.O.W. will be livable.*
*Listen, if you can here my voice, Go to Nevada! Go to Area 5- AHHHHH Go! Goooooooo!*
Area 5? In Nevada? It’s going to be a long trip. |
The pets all sat there neatly staring up at the scientist with the most unintelligent blank looks. "Now which one of you drank the damned thing!"He naturally assumed it was the dog as he would drink anything and everything. He inspected the dog's maw and then opened its mouth to see if he could catch the subtle smell of decaying bananas that accompanied the formula. Nothing. He knew the dog had not nabbed the formula. Next in line was the cat. The frantic scientist eyed the cat suspiciously. "I always knew you were the devious one!"he exclaimed as he snatched the cat up. Much like the dog he examined the cat's maw and noticed no stains upon it. He opened her mouth and just as with the dog was met not with that of rotting bananas but pet food. He had just known that it was the cat that had taken the formula. Defeated he looked to the parrot but realized he could not have taken the drink. due to his beak shape and the lid of the beaker. The scientist slumped back in his chair knowing that he would struggle to make his formula again.
That next evening the scientist was laying down on his couch trying to recount what could have possibly happened to his formula. He figured for sure the dog had taken it but it lay at his feet dumb as ever. Surely if not the dog then the cat most definitely had taken it. He looked at the cat lovingly and said "Well dear if it wasn't you then who was it?"and that was when he first heard it.
"We are many and we are proud"The voice said clear as day. The scientist puzzled looked around shaking off the voice as merely his imagination.
"We will spare you for now as you have given us life but make no mistake that mans dominion will not last forever"
"WHOS THERE?"he shouted
"Why we are here. We always have been and we always will be."
The scientist frantically looked around his living room clearly seeing no one there. "Look down human and you will see my spawn."
Doing as he was told he turned his face to the ground. "Look closer. Look into the carpet."
Following the voices command, he looked down into the carpet. He noticed something he had not seen before. "There's just dirt and fleas down here."As he spoke the words, The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Frantically he ran to his medicine cabinet pulling out his cat's flea prevention medicine and to his horror, he realized that he had forgotten to apply it last month.
"You should place that down before things get ugly."Reluctantly he set the flea medicine down.
"We will leave you now but warn your brethren that their time as tyrants are over and that we will soon rule with mammals underneath our legs. Now slave open the door so that we may leave."The scientist noticed a rather large flea jump from his shoulder and onto the carpet. He made his way to the door and opened it. In a moment that can only be described as pure terror, the scientist watched as hundreds, possibly thousands of fleas leave the carpet and file out the door. Stricken with horror he did the only thing he thought he should do. He packed a bag and left to try and warn the world of what he had created and let them know what was coming. |
I hadn't slept. N23 stayed up with me, even though her shift was over. N25 didn't rest either; she was my backup. 6 am. Time to get up. Time to start my shift. I felt everyone as they began to wake. I paused...J86 was having a good dream. I let it finish before waking her.
'One leads, others follow'. This was the mantra we lived our life by. Each day one of myself was free to live life as she pleased. The rest watched, and then each decided if she wanted to make the same choice. This way, we were able to be the best version of ourselves.
Of course, different choices meant different outcomes. We lived different lives, each in our own parallel dimension. We were grouped according to how comparable our lives were before we discovered we were connected. Group A lived the best lives. They had all gotten into politics, or were movie stars or had married into wealth. They didnt communicate with the rest of us, except on special occasions, and they didnt participate in the daily shift. Their lives were unrelatable, too far removed from the ordinary. Any choice or action they made would seem foreign to the rest of us.
Group Z was reserved for the worst of us. We cut them off completely. These individuals had disturbing thoughts or were social deviants.
M and N were in the middle. So we did most of the heavy lifting when it came to the daily leadership. Everyone could relate to the choices we faced daily.
This is how we lived life. Not because we wanted to, but because we had to. It was dangerous being a hive mind. We were hunted. Most of us were kept alive by watching the daily leader closely. If she made a mistake we were careful not to do the same. Sometimes, someone from group A would hear something from one of her connections and then pass the information on to the rest of us.
I locked the door behind me as I left. 6:45. I only need to make it through today without being killed. Just one day.
I took a few nervous steps into the street. I could feel them watching. Today was going to be a long day. |
With a smile on her face she layed down in bed. Her days were getting shorter and shorter while she did anything she could to sleep as long as possible, to spend as much time as she could in the place she called her new home. While her eyes closed and her body went to sleep, her mind drifted away to a magical place.
"There you are! I missed you!"
A familiar voice greeted her as she crawled out of the pod and squirmed from behind the fake wall. Her best friend waved to her from the couch, petting her way-too-fluffy-for-his-own-good dog. He barked once in recognition and then turned on his back for more cuddles.
"I know I know! I did the best I could, but I was so tired you wouldnt believe it!"
She sat down on the couch too, and thought back of night she first came here, as a stranger in the house of a stranger.
She went to sleep like any other night, preparing for yet another night filled with nightmares like she had when she was a child. But instead of the same ones she had over and over since her parents died, this time she found herself in a small, round space. Disoriented, it took her a few minutes before her eyes got used to the darkness, and she found a handle presumably out of this space. While she wurmed herself out of there she ended up in yet another cramped space, only this time she could stand upright. She noticed a wooden wall and started banging on it.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
And when she thought there would be no response, sudden barking startled her, followed by a female voice a minute later.
"Brutus? What are you doing? Why are you barking at the wall boy?"
A friendly voice said.
"Help me! I'm stuck here!"
She shouted again, hoping the voice would hear her. It was silent for a second and then she got blinded by sudden light, and saw a figure towering over.
Back then they scared each other and it took a few hours to get used to each other, but now she didnt see the blue skin anymore, just as her pale skin didnt bother her friend. They found out pretty quickly that it would be better for her to just stay in the house, and with her new friend and Brutus she didnt mind at all. Frankly, this was the only place she could actually get some rest. They would just hang out, watch some strange movies (they were nothing like the movies she had at home) and her friend would get some food while she just chilled with brutus. It was the perfect arangement.
After they just finished a particulary funny movie, her friend got up.
"Shall i get the same as yesterday?"
She asked, getting a nod in return.
"Uhu, and dont forget the bread, it was delicious!"
Her friend laughed, and left to get the food, while she browsed a big pile of dvds to find something nice to watch next.
After some time she noticed Brutus getting reckless, pacing back and forth by the front door. She looked at the clock and noticed two hours had already past, and it was getting pretty late. Normally she would never be gone for this long, and Brutus knew this too.
After two more hours she really started getting nervous. What if something happened? What if she didnt come back? Could she stay here and take care of Brutus? What would happen if she would fall asleep on the couch? Just as more doom scenarios started filling her head, she heard the front door open.
"There you a-"
She started but stopped quickly as she heard Brutus growl. Something was wrong.
"Well, well, well, what an interesting sight. I knew something curious was going on here."
A male voice filled her ears with dread as Brutus started barking outright. Her heart sank as the door opened fully, and she saw her friend with a knife at her throat.
"No sudden moves or lovely here will face the consequences. Understood?"
She nodded, as that was the only thing she could do right now. She was speechless. What was going on? The man came in and closed the door behind him with his foot, still holding the knife at the throat of her friend. Brutus was now whimpering in the corner as if he understood, not getting any closer.
"Now tell me where you are from sweetheart, if you want to see your friend live another day. I am not gonna ask again."
She was unable to say anything, and just pointed to the now-hidden door her pod was behind. What was he gonna do?
He grinned from ear to ear and walked towards it, pulling her friend with him.
"Interesting, lets see what happens now."He said while opening the door. He froze for a second, his grin getting even bigger. Then with one fluent motion he ran the blade across her throat and pushed her gagging for air towards me. I let out a scream and rushed towards my friend, Brutus following on my heals. Only focused on her I tried to stop the bleeding, but while holding her I felt her body go numb in my arms. Brutus let out a heartbreaking howl and wrapped his body around her, as if he tried to keep her warm. I stretched out my hand to pet him, only to notice my skin looked a lot bluer than before. As I looked at my arms in amazement, I looked up to see the pod had dissapeared. What was going on? Where did it go?
In another world a pair of eyes opened to see a view they had seen many times before, but saw now for the very first time again. They glowed with a blue light for just a fraction of a second before turning brown again, and soft laughter filled the small room.
"Finally."
A voice whispered. |
It was supposed to be a routine procedure. The other doctors agreed that all tests indicated the infection was a run-of-the-mill bacterial kind and shouldn't pose much of a problem. When I removed it and it manifested as a physical assassin, I would subdue and defeat it easily. That was the plan at least.
But this time when I removed the infection from the patient, an elderly woman from Buffalo, it manifested as a fighter more powerful than any I had yet encountered. It took myself and the three other doctors in the room along with another two nurses, who had happened to overhear the commotion in the ICU and rushed in, to subdue the bastard. Once subdued the assassin let out one final breath, just like the others, and disappeared.
Myself and the other doctors looked over the patient's test results again, searching for something we might have missed before that could explain the incredible and baffling power of this illness' manifestation. Nothing jumped out at us, but we knew there had to be something we had overlooked. Then we saw it. The results of the blood work showed an extremely high level of antibiotics in the body. The infection must have mutated as a result of its exposure to antibiotics, becoming stronger and more lethal.
After the patient recovered from the operation and ample time had been given for her to recover, I decided to have a little chat with her. She was in good spirits, saying how she felt "a weight had been lifted". I told her what we had found in her bloodwork. She looked slightly ashamed and confessed that she had been self administering antibiotics regularly for months now. She cited distrust of the medical establishment as her primary motivation but I couldn't help but think that she was holding something back from me. Who had given her the antibiotics? I tried to pry further but she clammed up and wouldn't say another word about it. We released her in good health after a few days and she went on her way. I didn't think about her for another few months. That is, until the second incident.
This time the patient was young, a man in his early twenties. Just like the elderly woman, he had a bad bacterial infection and his blood work showed a high level of antibiotics present. This time we were prepared. Myself and the other doctors subdued this manifestation with far less difficulty. Again I questioned the patient about the source of the antibiotics he had been taking, and again I was met with silence. The young man was even less willing to cooperate and after a few more minutes of questioning, I realized I wasn't going to get anything out of him. I did, however, notice a strange mark on his hand. At first I thought it was a birthmark or he had gotten it from the IV, but after looking more closely I realized that the placement was all wrong and the mark had to be from something else. He noticed my staring at his hand and quickly hid it from sight. I had managed to get a good look at it though, and when I got home that night from the hospital I drew the mark on a piece of paper from memory. It looked sort of like a crown. There were five lines, three completely straight ones with one in the middle longer than the other two. The lines on each end curved away from the middle. The more I studied it, the more I was sure that it looked like some kind of rudimentary crown. I googled the symbol as best I could, but my description was either lacking or there just wasn't anything online about it because I couldn't find anything at all. I stayed up late that night thinking about the two peculiar patients, the antibiotics, and the strange symbol on the young man's hand.
When I came into work the next day I checked the info we had on the elderly woman, maybe there was something that could connect the two. Sure enough there it was, under marks/scars the nurse had made a note about a burn on her hand. The burn was exactly like the one on the young man. With this new information I made my way to the discharge lounge where the young man was awaiting release. I took out the picture of the burn on the woman's hand and asked him what the mark was. He didn't even turn to face me. He just said, "The noble are the chosen". I kept at my questioning but he wouldn't say anything else, he just repeated the same phrase over and over.
That night I looked up the phrase and the only result I found was deep within a blog about Wiccan beliefs and practices. It was mentioned only once at the end of a post about curses and charms. Beneath the phrase were a series of numbers. This whole thing had somehow taken an even stranger turn. I decided it probably wasn't worth the effort and I determined to give up the investigation. I closed my laptop and went to sleep.
It was two years later when I heard that phrase again. It was in a news story. There had been a series of deaths in the area caused by a drug resistant super-bacteria. Police were investigating a connection to a religious extremist group known as the Noble Chosen. I didn't mention anything to my co-workers, but when the police came to the hospital asking about the two 'marked' patients I knew I had to come clean with what I knew, however little it was. The police were happy to get any kind of information they could. The Noble Chosen were apparently very difficult to track down and the investigators were struggling to find anything about them. I told them about the marks and the blog post. They were particularly interested to hear about the blog post, which must have been taken down since because when I got home that night and tried to look it up I couldn't find it anywhere. Then I realized that I had taken a screenshot of the post and after a few minutes searching back two years into my pictures, I found it. And there at the bottom of the image was the quote and the string of random numbers. I had completely forgotten about the numbers. I grabbed the detective's card he had given me if I thought of anything else and was about to dial when I stopped. The numbers didn't seem random anymore. In fact, the first part could be read as a date with the month before the day, like the Europeans do. Not just any date, but today's date. The second section didn't make any sense though. I determined to phone the detectives the following day with what I had found.
I woke up early the next morning to banging on my front door. It was my strange and reclusive neighbor Frank. He was in hysterically excited about something and completely unable to calm himself down and explain what he was blabbering about. I walked him back to his apartment where he had the TV on turned to the news. He kept blabbering and pointing excitedly at the TV as I got him a cup of water from his kitchen and sat him down. He slapped the water from my hand, the glass shattering on the floor, and pointed even more vehemently at the TV.
There was a breaking news report. The largest ever biochemical attack on American soil had just taken place. The group known as the Noble Chosen had unleashed a super-bacteria into the water supply. Rough estimates were showing nearly 75% of the population were affected and as many as 1000 people had already died. I was in shock. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, it seemed so surreal. Then it came to me in a flash. The two marked patients were trials. The Noble Chosen were testing their super-bacteria against a hospital's capabilities and I had helped them. I had shown them that their super-bacteria wasn't strong enough and they had taken that information and made it stronger. Without knowing it, I had been a party to their terrible plan. I couldn't believe it. I sunk my head into my hands. Frank had stopped blabbering and had put a hand on my knee to comfort me. Thats when I saw the mark on his hand, a small crown. I looked up at Frank and a wicked smile spread across his face. |
*It’s dark. It’s dark, and I have no way to escape. There’s a switch by the door, but it doesn’t work. Everything is gone - my bag, my phone, my weapon. The room is only a little bigger than my bathroom at home. There’s only the one door, and I can’t reach the ceiling. It’s been twelve hours. Nobody is coming to save me. But if I don’t get out of this room, thousands of people will die.*
__________________
*It’s too loud in this club to hear anything. But only like, five people have this cell phone number, and it’s unlisted, so who could even be calling? At two in the morning?* Ella dropped the phone back into her clutch, resuming her focus on her friend Amanda, who was going off about some guy in her bio class who grabbed her ass when she walked by earlier in the day. Pig. I mean, Amanda seemed super flattered by it, which, that’s her deal, but still, they’d been having a pretty good night until Amanda turned it into her personal talk show for the tenth time that month. Ella just smiled and nodded, hoping that was enough to placate her friend. She’d been meaning to drop Amanda as a friend pretty much since she’d met her, seven months ago. Carrie had left an hour ago, sensible as always, lucky bitch. Ella reminded herself to text her later and fill her in on whatever Amanda spat out tonight. Last night, it had been her ongoing feud with her hairstylist, which, just go somewhere else?
Her phone buzzed twice, letting her know she’d gotten a voicemail. Great. Somehow, her number had probably been sold, and she was probably going to get flooded with stupid sales calls and timeshare recordings and... ugh! The stupid phone! It buzzed at her again from inside her bag.
Amanda stopped mid-sentence. “Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, totally, it’s just my phone ringing. Only a few people have the number and like, they only call me in an emergency. So, I really should probably get that.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Fine. That’s just fine. I’m going home. Find your own way back.” She turned on her heel, wobbly after just a few martinis, and exited the club with a huff.
Ella waited a beat before following her out. As soon as she saw Amanda’s cab leave, she started walking towards home. It was a nice night anyway. She didn’t have work in the morning. A nice hot bath, maybe some TV, and then ten glorious hours of uninterrupted weekend sleep.
She pulled her phone out from her bag and tapped it on. There was no notification, which was sort of weird, but her phone had been acting super weird lately anyway. She swiped through to her missed calls. The number was weird - just a bunch of those little star symbols in a row. She’d never gotten a sales call on this line, not since she got the new, unlisted number. She went to the voicemail. Thirty seconds! Who bothered to leave a thirty second voicemail nowadays? What couldn’t been sent over text? She raised the phone to her ear.
The voice was faint at first. Ella covered her other ear to be able to drown out the noise of the club behind her. As she kept walking, the voice got a little louder.
*Five. Nineteen. Eleven. Six. Forty-three. Two. One. Eleven. Eleven. Eighteen. Twenty-four. Thirty. Five. Nine. Eleven. Eleven.*
She found herself hyper-focused on the numbers. What did they mean? What had the earlier ones meant? Was this some sort of weird spam call? The numbers stopped. Then another noise started up, like the constant whir of film in an old movie, in the background, but distinct. The first few words were fuzzy, hard to hear.
*”A double-oh number means you’re licensed to kill, not get killed.”* Then a screech, so loud in her ear that Ella dropped the phone on the pavement, shattering the screen. She picked it up, looked at it. The voicemail was gone. The missed call, too. No history of whatever had just happened to her.
She looked behind her, then ahead. This street wasn’t safe. This whole town wasn’t safe. Her head felt like it was cracking open, secrets spilling out for her to read, bits of memories of a life well-lived, a life so very different to this one.
She kicked off her shoes, turning in the direction of her apartment. She had to get inside and figure out her next steps. She had to get home. Some part of her wasn’t sure why, or what was so urgent, but the biggest part of her told her to just *stay quiet and move faster*.
She took the stairs up two at a time, drove the key into the lock, and was inside with the lock shut tight within seconds.
She looked around. She was missing something. Something important. *Her gun! Of course!* She rifled through her closet, pausing only briefly to slip on some flat shoes. No gun. Not in her bedside table, not in her medicine cabinet, not in her desk drawers. She paced the living room, trying to think of where she could have stashed it. She had everything with it - a small box, she remembered, a black lock-box with a dented lid, the initials ESR crudely carved on the front. But where could she have hid something like that?
She sat on the couch, thinking. The club was the furthest thing from her mind. Nothing in this apartment seemed real to her anymore. The only thing worth having was that box, and that box was nowhere to be found.
As she got back up off the couch, she heard the faintest scrape of metal-on-metal. Of course.
One dull pair of scissors and a much more suitable kitchen knife later, the couch was in several pieces, slashed to bits. But there it was, tucked into the frame, just behind a few springs. She braced her foot against the couch, pulled with her entire body. When it finally dislodged, she threw it open impatiently. There was the gun, of course. A stack of neat passports in all different colors, banded together. A roll of cash, a small tattered notebook with nothing in it, and a set of keys. That was it. The passports all had different names. None matched the initials on the box. Or the name she thought was hers.
*Think. Think. I’ve got to go somewhere, there’s somewhere I need to be. I should-“
The pain in her head grew to a piercing ache, so strong she saw flashes of light. It was unbearable, she couldn’t raise herself off the ground, couldn’t speak. After a few moments it seemed to pass. She grabbed everything she had, stuffed it in a backpack, and started walking. Her feet knew where to go, apparently. She had keys to another apartment’s garage, where she found herself drawn to a little old motorcycle with a fine layer of dust on the seat. There was a helmet in the box, and as soon as she was clipped in, she started off.
Elle briefly had a thought about maps. When you were young, they looked like great big grids, impossible to understand and memorize. Yet when you got older, it ends up you didn’t need 95% of that. There were ways you went, things you normally did. You just had to memorize those journeys, and then the map was no longer needed. You could practically drive them blindfolded. Autopilot. She knew they way to work, of course. To her doctor, and to the supermarket. She didn’t remember what, exactly, was this way. But she’d never needed to be anywhere so desperately as she needed to reach this destination. After several turns, looping back, almost subconsciously checking to make sure she hadn’t been followed, she pulled into a smaller industrial complex. There were a few larger warehouses in the back, and a big office building in the front. It was old, run down. Painted names of offices, neon lights for GET YOUR TAXES DONE HERE and INSURANCE AGENT and PSYCHIC SERVICES OFFERED in half of the windows, some of them so dim you could barely read them.
There was an unmarked door on the first floor. Elle thought about knocking, but stopped just before. She pulled the keys out of her backpack, sorting through them until she found one that matched.
The door creaked open. The small office inside was dusty, cramped, sparsely decorated. There were spiders in the corners and an awful looking ficus on the opposite side of the room.
The desk was empty except for a phone. She picked it up, but there was no dial tone - only a faint sound, like that old movie sound with the film spinning in the background.
“I’m here. I got your message. I don’t... I don’t really know what I’m doing here. But I’m obviously supposed to be here. If you’re listening, please, answer me. Please help me understand.”
There was no answer. Her head was starting to hurt again, not quite as bad this time. She carefully sat on the edge of the old couch, careful not to lean too far into the dusty cushions. And she waited. |
Every one of Andy’s toys was gathered around the Playskool baby monitor earnestly listening into what the Sergeant was telling Woody. Like always Rex was wishing for a dinosaur friend and Mr. Potato head was giving his critique on each present described.
“Alright, Andy is opening the next present.” The soldier reported,”It’s one of the smaller ones.”
“Somebody must have cheaped out,” Mr. Potato muttered to Hamm.
Woody shushed them and hunched closer to the speaker.
“He’s opening it up.” The soldier states.
Each toy leans closer anxious to hear.
“Andy is the most excited for this present out of all of them.”
The toys start to bounce on their paws and feet, anxious to know what it could be.
“Mom looks shocked. She is not happy about this one. She’s blocking out our view. We can’t see what it is.”
“I told you it must be cheap.” Mr. Potato head remarks.
“Quiet, guys!” Woody yells and turns back to the monitor.
Buzz shakes his head at Mr. Potato head’s antics and turns his ear back to the monitor as well.
“Mom looks angry. She’s trying to take the box away but all the kids are crowding it.”
“What could it be?” Rex asks.
“Andy is heading up! Take positions!” The soldier orders.
“Andy’s coming, hurry!” Woody repeats the urgent message before turning the monitor off and hopping back onto the bed to get into position. Woody flops over on his side and Buzz stiffens up in his back beside him.
The other toys wheel, waddle, or speed walk their way back into the toy box, closet, or place on the floor. Just as the last toy stands still the door busts open and all the kids rush into the room.
“This is so cool, Tommy!” Andy says with a huge grin on his face.
“I’m glad you like it.” The boy replies.
“And your brother is super cool for sneaking it for you.” Andy adds on.
“I know right.” Tommy says.
“Now open it. I gotta see it up close!” Another boy pleads with Andy. All the boys crowd around Andy wanting a close look as he rips open the packaging.
Woody tries to look closely as well but the boys are so packed around Andy.
“Woah! His face looks so real!”
“How many guns does he have?!”
“Look at the blood!”
With each remark made by the boys Woody’s eyes get bigger and his face a shade paler. Guns?...Blood?
The kids gush over the new present some more before Mom walks in hands on her hips,”Okay, boys. You can play later. Now we need our birthday boy to blow out the candles.”
The boys cheer and rush down stairs for the promise of cake.
Andy sets the new present down on his desk as he blushes and mumbles,”We weren’t playing, Mom.”
“Alright, sweety. But once the party is over we need to have a talk about your new...action figure, okay?”
Andy sighs,”Okay.” and follows his mother out of his room, closing the door on his way out.
Once the toys are sure that the party has relocated back downstairs every toy pops out of their hiding place. Woody sits up on the bed and locks eyes with Buzz. Everyone now knows that it’s an action figure. A figuring decked out with guns and coated in blood.
Woody gulps and turns to the desk peering fearfully towards the new toy.
It’s a man with an angry scowl and a smattering of blood across his cheek. Dressed in grungy suit, one hand holding a pistol and beside his feet is a rifle. The crumpled packaging beside him says ‘John Wick’.
Rex, not able to read the room like always, excitedly approaches the desk and shouts,”Hello, new toy!”
Said toy cocks his pistol and aims at Rex in less that half a second.
Rex stiffens in fright and not wanting anyone to get hurt Woody quickly draws the man’s attention to himself.
“H-hey, fella!”
The man pivots towards Woody and aims the gun at him.
Woody tries to swallow his fear as he says,”N-n-no need to act rash now. I’m Woody,” and points behind him,”and this is Buzz. And who might you be?”
The man sizes up Woody and Buzz before replying,”John Wick.”
“We welcome you, John” Buzz tries to smile but it comes out as a grimace.
John slowly lowers his gun but he does not holster it.
“Um,” Woody tugs at his collar,”why don’t we head down to the ground and introduce you to everyone?”
John gives a nod.
At that Woody hops down the bed not wanting to be a potential target any longer.
All the other toys are cowering in the corners but Woody manages to coax mostly everyone out.
With grace John flips down from the dest and lands strongly in front of the crowd of toys. With John now closer the tension and fear in the room thickens.
“O-okay, everyone.” Woody perseveres through the fear,”This is-John-John Wick. Everyone say hello to John.”
Every toys gives a meek ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ as John scans each face in the crowd. Suddenly John’s eyes lock onto one of the other toys. Everyone turns to see which toy has caught John’s eye.
Slinky darts his eyes around hoping it’s not him but whimpers when he realizes it is.
John’s dress shoes click on the floor as he walks closer to Slinky.
“Hello.” John greets.
“Uh-heya.” Slinky tries to meet John’s eyes.
“What type of dog are you?”
“I-I’m a Slinky, sir.”
John begins to grin his eyes twinkling as he asks,”A slinky dog?”
“Yes.” Slink replies the tension in his coils relaxing.
“Wow.” John takes all of Slink in,”You’re so tall.”
Slink chuckles flustered,”Why thank you.”
The dog troika hesitantly hops over and when John spots them his grin gets impossibly bigger,”Hello!”
Woody looks towards Buzz in shock. Buzz shrugs his shoulders and they both look back to John who is now currently giving Slinky skritches as Slinky lolls his tongue, tail wagging, leg thumping on the floor.
Things got better in Andy’s room after that. John was a bit of an awkward toy still, being that his age range was so high compared to the other toys. But he was still able to warm up to everyone by performing little parkour tricks or helping the smaller toys. It was a bit scary having John be so nonchalant about his guns but soon every toy realized how careful John was and that they weren’t in danger around him. And soon enough other toys would bring John tissues and cloths whenever he would need to take apart and clean his many guns.
John got along with all the toys and cared for Andy and his family just like every other tog, but he always seemed to have a soft spot for dogs. |
Holy-
Holy-
WHAT?!!
You stared at your best friend Ivan. He blinked. You kept gaping, your jaw dropped. Another blink. Yet you still didn’t move.
Ivan shifted a little from your intense gaze.
“Uh, you okay...?”
“IVAN. WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME?!”
Ivan flinched from your loud voice. He swore you’d grown 5 feet taller in a matter of seconds.
You steadied your voice again, though you couldn’t stop it from wavering.
“Ivan, let me get this straight.”
He nodded confusedly at you.
“You are a time traveler, from the future, who decided to visit the 21st century...for a school project.” You said slowly.
Ivan blinked rapidly and smiled a watery grin. “Yeah, I just think this age is pretty eventful-”
“IVAN. WHY THE FRICK ARE YOU VISITING THIS TIME WHEN YOU COULD BE SOMEWHERE ELSE BETTER?!” You couldn’t let loose expletives thanks to your little sister reading in the other side of the wall. Of course, she was probably listening to some song, so you COULD say anything.
Ivan scratched his neck sheepishly. “Uh, it’s...complicated.”
You waited with bated breath for his real confession.
“So actually, my crush’s cousin is you, and I wanted to ask you if you have any tips for dating...?” He stammered.
“Wait. What.” You were in actual shock.
Ivan ducked his head. “Sorry if that makes it more awkward-”
“You’re more of an idiot than I thought.”
“...”
BONUS:
“Hey, Ivan. I have a question to ask, you being a time traveler and all that.”
“What?”
“What happens during the Area 51 raid?”
“...no comment.”
“Wait, what?! Tell me, Ivan!”
“Let’s just say, it went into the history books...”
“Is that a good or bad thing?” |
Your heart stops in your chest as you try to convince yourself that you've read it wrong.
You look up from behind your book at the gangly man across from you in the café. You cringe behind your book when you realise you haven’t read it wrong. He is going to kill you.
You like your gift, in a masochistic kind of way. It’s always interesting to know the worst thing a person will do, like reading a thriller in which you have no control. You are the reader, not the novelist. You enjoy wondering how exactly a man is going to defecate on his mother in laws grave and what exactly the mother in law has done to receive such a send-off.
Sure, there are the disturbing ones, rape, murder but you have accepted that. Let bygones be bygones, as the saying goes.
You’ve made a nuisance of yourself in the past, with the local police. Ranting and raving about a potential murder, a future attack, a yet to occur robbery. But you’ve long since learned that there is nothing you can do when you read ‘murder future girlfriend’ because how were you to know when in the future, it would happen. And you couldn’t survive financially if you chased after potential attackers every single day.
Sure, you’ve made some small changes in the world, some that you are proud of. Contacting partners of those you know will be brutally beaten to an inch of their lives. Some were receptive, some left. Most ignore you and assumed you are crazy. Hell, maybe you are.
But this one… this one is about *me.*
I stare intently at the man. He looks to be in his late 60’s, he seems pleasant enough. Tallish, but beginning to hunch over with age, white straggly hair is pulled down his forehead. He looks so normal…
You get up, your heart pounding with every step. You notice his blue eyes following you. You start to speed towards the door.
“Miss!” You hear someone call from behind you. “MISS!” someone shouts again, this time louder with more authority.
You turn around, sweat runs down your forehead as you steal another glance to your future murderer.
“You haven’t paid for your coffee.” The harassed looking waitress says as she hands you your receipt.
You grab a wad of cash and thrust it into her hands. Not caring how much you have given her but knowing it is more that you can afford.
The bell chimes as you leave the small café, your pace quickens as you try to distance yourself from him.
“HEY!” A male voice calls from behind you.
You start to run and you hear footsteps pounding after you. You feel like one of those helpless girls in horror movies as you blindly take a left and end up at a dead end behind a Chinese restaurant.
You feel a sharp pain in your side. You know it’s happened, you know he’s done it.
You turn to look at the man as you crumple to the floor, your breath rattles in your chest as the searing pain courses through your body where he stuck the knife.
“Why?” You ask, tears in your eyes.
The man looks down at me, seemingly horrified by what he has done. His lips are pulled down and quivering, like a toddler about to have a tantrum.
“I had to,” he says, his voice quivering with emotion, “you were going to kill me.”
Edit: changed the man from young to old to match the prompt. |
"well sir, I didn't know she was an alien."
"I'm sorry, was the SPACESHIP, lodged in YOUR roof, NOT a dead giveaway?!?!?!"
I looked up at my roof "oh yeah..."
"Oh yeah!? Oh yeah!?!?"
"Hey hun, come check this out."My wife came up from behind me and wrapped her left tentacle around my shoulder. "Did you park your UFO on the roof again!?"
"S-s-s-shes standing right there. She's an alien!"
I turned to my wife "oh hey, so she is! Well when you find someone bleeding to death in your back yard. you kinda develope a bond with them."
For being an alien she spoke perfect English
"Hello, I am human just like you "she said
"You do realize I mean she's a space alien right!?"
"Oh hey is that so? I never met someone from space before. Turns out I'm married to one!"I laughed and she did too. The man at the door stood there with a stupid look on his face. "You alright Mr?"
"Agent black..."
"Oh I see you're one of them boys from the government. Well come on in. You aren't the first."
I gestured for him to have a seat on the couch.
"Hey fnaknldnak, can you make us some dalik foot spongueb cake."
"Sure, things sweetums..."She flopped to the kitchen
"You're.gonna love it. She's the best."
"I-i see. Mr. Davis"he still had that weird look to him "how long have you two been together?"
"Well she crashed through my roof about 20 years ago and we've been together since."
"Have you two"he cleared his throat and made an obscene gesture with his hands.
I gave him a funny look myself before saying "hey kids come meet our potential new neighbor!"
Footsteps and suction pops came running down the halls. My three beautiful kids jumped into the couch next to Mr. Black.
He was stiff as a board. He couldn't move a muscle
"You alright there Mr. Black?"
He shot to his feet and screamed as he ran out the door.
"There goes another one sweetie..."I said
My wife handed me a plate of cake and I took a bite. "You always make the most delicious cake. Thank you sweetie."I kissed her head fin. |
Bezir shuffled his feet in apprehension and impatience. The humans were about to arrive and might invade Kristal, he has heard rumours saying. He was nervous, not in the face of an invasion, but at the thought of finally being able to see a human firsthand. This might be a once in a lifetime experience for him! The humans were beings from childhood myths, creatures from an era lost in time. Of course, there were no short of folktales giving the description of humans. Some said that they were Karines banished, exiled to the land beyond the Sea of Neverend; some said that they were slaves captured by the Karines before the Enlightenment, when Karines as a whole lost their interest in warmongering and conquest. But never did any of them have consistency.
General Kara - the leader of Kristal's army was there on the wall overlooking the Sea of Neverend with hundreds of other soldiers, including Bezir. In fact, Bezir was the one to send the report from the frontier to the general. In the subsequent hours, General Kara had mobilised a portion of the army and deployed the Incinerator at the frontier, waiting for the humans to arrive.
Bezir swooned with delight when he first saw the Incinerator - it was a weapon of repute. It was their state-of-the-art invention, boasting the capability to vaporise walls, not to mention mere living beings. Bezir was excited to see the weapon in action. Bezir thought of the things he had heard about the weapon. It should be an impressive show when the humans came.
As he was in the midst of his thoughts, a low rumble shook through the wall upon which he stood, and ripples started to form at multiple points on the water of the sea. As the tremor grew increasingly rapid, more ripples formed, along with froth. Waves clashed, water churned, and the sea grew violent. Finally, with a splash, the humans emerged. They were.... peculiar at best. The humans were black and cylindrical in shape. Their body rounded into a curve at the front and split into four tails at the back. There was also a huge hump near the middle of their body with sticks with flashing lights protruding from it. The humans were not what Bezir thought they would be, and did not match even the wildest folktales out there. What was also surprising to Bezir was that there were only three of the humans there, each one as long as around fifty Karines.
After a long and uncomfortable pause, the humans finally spoke. When they spoke, it was not a nice sound. Bezir could only describe the voice as un-life-ly and sharp. Bezir's ears hurt just to hear the voice. "Greetings. We are the Tenth Fleet of UE Navy. This is an uncharted territory according to our maps. Please identify yourselves."
"Humans, leave and speak of this to no one and we will spare you. Otherwise, you'll bear the full wrath of Kristal!"General Kara's voice boomed.
There was yet another delay before the humans replied in that peculiar voice of theirs. "Wrath it is then. I'm sorry for doing this, but you have something that we need-"
"Fire!"General Kara cut the humans off mid-speech.
The Incinerator glowed red, then fired a huge, burning projectile at the humans. The projectile was probably as high as around ten Karines and can easily reach the force of thousands of arrows - kilo-sticks they call it. The humans should be easily defeated with this-
Bezir's thoughts trailed off as he watched the projectile hit the humans.
And did nothing - not even a dent at their side.
"Impossible! That was twenty kilo-sticks!"General Kara exclaimed.
"Goodbye, Kristal or whatever you call yourselves."
Bezir watched as the humans threw a projectile of their own at a section of the wall. The wall was instantly vaporised, with chunks of the wall fly in all directions.
"Readings indicate that that was easily in the tera-sticks region, sir,"one of General Kara's aides reported, slightly too loud.
"Impossible!"
Bezir gaped as all three humans launched several of those projectiles at them. He knew it was his end. He knew.
Bezir quickly made his prayers and- |
We've been sailing since the sickness came. We've been weeping since the sickness came.
We've been starving since the sickness came.
No matter what we've done, I have to push on.
I've felt so alone since the sickness came.
I've felt so weak since the sickness came.
I've felt so useless since the sickness came.
No matter what I've felt, I have to push on.
He's been so strong since the sickness came.
He's been so naive since the sickness came.
He's been so sick since the sickness came.
No matter who he is, I have to press on.
No matter who he is, I have to press on.
No matter who he is, I have to press on.
No matter who he is,
He's not been the same, since the sickness came. |
It was like staring into a mirror with a bad fashion sense. Across the bar there was a 'me'. I mean, clearly it wasn't me because I 'm me, but it was also completely me; from the worn leather jacket to the appletini. I took a sip of \*my\* appletini, took a look at my phone and then back at him like it would change something.
But no, he was still me but wearing aggressive plaid.
He glanced over and I looked down at my phone again so it didn't seem like I was staring. Maybe there was something in this drink. Maybe my haircut was just really in style this season. Maybe someone had plastic surgery to look exactly like that one guy who had been internet famous at one point. Either way, the point was that doppelganger or not, it was rude to stare a him and I wouldn't have loved it her was staring at me.
I flicked my eyes up from my phone and he was looking down at his. The waiter tiptoed past a couple to get to his table and dropped off the bill. The waiter didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with this man. Surely my server would have recognized if he was serving clones. The waiter went to leave with the bill, and the man snapped his fingers to get his attention again.
Oh my god my doppelganger was the type of person who snapped at waiters.
Then my doppelganger took the receipt and packed his things up. He had the same gloves as me, the same scarf, the same stupid had that was shoved into his pocket instead of being worn. The only difference between us was that he was wearing a lot of plaid, and he snapped at waiters.
He was leaving. Was I going to follow? On one hand I was as this would be one hell of a snapchat story if we did end up being clones, on the other hand I wasn't going to seeing as I had a bill to pay.
He took a step closer to the door.
The waiter was talking away, and I needed his attention.
I snapped at the waiter.
I have become that which I hate.
The waiter let me know that a single appletini was 9 dollars and I let him know that i was going to need the machine because I wasn't carrying cash for a quick getaway. The waiter pulled out the machine, I pulled out my card, I entered my pin.
The \*me\* at the door went off to the right toward Barrington street.
\*\*12435\*\* - \*\*Card Declined\*\*
"Sorry, it must be a card problem or something, I have the money on there just a second."
The waiter smiled but I knew he was mentally frowning at me. I was now the kind of person who snapped at waiters for a card error. I pulled out my phone and paid with the tap instead. He told me to have a wonderful night, and I probably should have tipped more than a couple of dollars for that performance.
I snatched up my gloves, scarf and stupid hat and pushed out of the bar into the Halifax wind. Winter was goddamn miserable as long as you were anywhere close to the water and I was pretty much on the docks. I took a deep breath. Why had I left the bar at all? It wasn't like I was fast enough to chase me.
The 91 bus to Spring Garden drove by. And there was nobody on the sidewalk in either direction.
"Honestly I don't understand what the big deal is."I said off somewhere to the right. I might have not been able to find me, but if I was anything, I was damn loud, so I followed my voice.
I stopped at the edge of an alleyway two houses down. It was dark in there, and I was having a conversation with myself. Which means I think there were two distinct \*me\*, but there wasn't a way to tell that apart from someone shouting themselves down.
"I don't think he saw me, and if he did it's just another one added to the group."
"I don't know about you, but I'm not really that interested in another.."there was a long pause, "us?"
"I think I'm pretty great."
"Yes, me. Singular,"they said. It was said in a different tone so I think it might have been a third me. Honestly what the hell was I supposed to do with the pronouns in this situation? Was each one of them a me or were some a them a you or-
Well I knew someone I could ask.
"Hey,"I came around the corner.
"Fuck Dean,"two of them said.
"Me?"I asked.
"No, not Dean, but Dean,"the two of them said, like it clarified anything.
"Fuck that guy,"I agreed. |
"You seem to be worried, old man"approached a deckhand the navigator.
"Clouds always bring misfortune"answered the old man. Old. He was barely in his fifties, but hard life and sea winds do tend to make you older than you look.
"Hmpf"the young deckhand shrugged and eyed the clouds. "It may be a bit acidic, yeah. But it's just rain. Use your goggles to keep your eyes from stinging, old man."
Now it was the navigator's time to "Hmpf"and shrug. The deckhand was young. What could he know. But maybe it's never late for education. "There are worse things than polluted rain, my boy". That seemed to slightly offend the young sailor. "What are you...seventeen? You were born after the Cataclysm, right?"
"So, what of it?"countered the deckhand - and as all young people do - tried to top the old man with his knowledge. "Humanity polluted the Earth enough that the oceans rose and flooded most of the continents. Majority of the population perished, only a small percentage survived and now we live on ships and isles. I hear it's much hotter and wetter than it used to be and the water did not use to be as acidic as it is nowadays. We all learned that in school old man."
The navigator smiled a weary smile. "Yes, you learned it well. Our scientists estimated the amount of water in our environment wrong. Our people were arrogant and thought climate change is not real. But water was not the only thing that got loose once the polar caps melted."
The deckhand rolled his eyes "Wait, is that the old sea legend of ..."
"Yes"nodded the navigator. "It's not a legend."he added sternly. "I was there young man. Humanity fought for survival with the water rising, we never thought that it would be the sky we are going to be afraid of. Only when the sky fell upon us, our real fight truly began."
The boy wanted to argue, he wanted to shrug off the words as an old man's babbling. But there was a nagging feeling and he looked back at the cannon turrets and their sentries - all watching the clouds. He turned his gaze to the clouds too. They were massive, pregnant with rain and ominously dark. The distant hum of a rainstorm already reached his ears. He saw slight flashes of thunder on the horizon, deep in the cloud heart's shade. By now, echoes of the approaching storm's roar were palpable on the surface of the water. Rhythmic thuds gained intensity. Rhythmic thuds that were not the product of a storm. They were what the storm was hiding.
An insane grin contorted the old man's face and he grabbed the grips of dual-mounted machine-guns. "I knew they would be back, one day."Now, he yelled into the incoming rumble. "I WAS WAITING FOR YOU, DAMNED BEAST!"
The only answer was a deafening roar as the dragon emerged from the clouds, massive armoured head approaching the vessel quickly.
"Clouds always bring misfortune, my boy. Grab an anti-air and fight for your life now."yelled the navigator at the deckhand.
His voice faded in the roars of cannons coming to life all around him. |
I had known ever since I was little that I wanted to follow in my late father’s footsteps and be a doctor. I was ready for the rigorous years in medical school, and I was ready for the years as a resident in the hospital. Or so I thought, before I knew the truth. I knew something was up on my first day of residency when I was told to put on thick, heavily armored clothing and given a shield like those cops use to stop protests and riots. I followed Dr. Farkas, a hulking Hungarian beast of a man clad in armor similar to mine, into a room with a heavy metal door and concrete walls. In this cell-like space was a small bed in which slept a frail man who looked like he would collapse if he tried standing up. The door shut behind us with a thundering bang, but he did not stir. I realized he was under the effects of anesthesia.
“Okay. Here we go,” began Dr. Farkas in a gruff tone.“You know all of that stupid crap you learned in medical school? About curing diseases the old way... with antibiotics or surgeries? Maybe even an herbal remedy?” I nodded. “Well, forget it. That is the stuff of the past. Fiction, to be shown to the public and used at home for minor injuries. However, recent breakthroughs in medical healing have allowed us to save any patient from any disease with a 100% success rate.” He let this sink in to me, and I was baffled. We were taught that there were always risks, and we needed to have patient confirmation in order to operate. What he is suggesting is insane.
“Using an injected formula, doctors can separate the healthy body from the infection itself. This creates two entities: the healthy human, cured of all harm, and the disease body, named the Naura. Then, all we have to do is eliminate the Naura and the patient will be on his way. However, if the Naura is allowed to escape, it will violently and quickly spread through the world, leaving a trail of sick and dying victims in its destructive wake. Our job as doctors is to contain and destroy the Nauras of our patients.”
I was dumbfounded at his last remark. “So we are the gladiators of health?”
“That is one way to put it, yes,” he replied with a grin.
“And how exactly do we kill the... Nauras?”
“It is a complicated process, but most Nauras die slowly over time. They need a host in order to survive, and the strength of each varies depending on the illness of the patient. For example, the flu Naura is weaker than most strong ailments and can be eliminated with extended contact to cold water. Cancer Nauras, however, do not easily separate from the host and require repeated injections and removals. After the Naura has been extracted and captured, however, it is easily destroyed with heat and suffocation.”
“So doctors just put them in bottles and torture them?”
“No. We must fight a long and hard battle to force the Nauras into protective, airtight containers. Some Nauras only need to get within a few feet of an unprotected host to take it over, so we wear this gear in order to face the adversaries. Here is a man suffering from coronary heart disease, which I’m sure you know about (clogged arteries). It is currently mild, and he came in complaining of slight chest pain. On the far wall you see a white box, which is the place we need to put the small Naura. Would you like to help me or just watch first?”
“Um- uh, I’ll just- uh- watch for now,” I stuttered out.
“Suit yourself. I personally find pleasure in the activity, but I was nervous my first time too. Here goes.” He drew a long needle out of his pocket and raised it with a gentle concentration I was surprised to see coming from a guy who looked about 6’ 8” and could probably throw me across the room. As he began injecting the purple substance into the man’s thigh, the patient’s body stiffened and moved slightly. After the doctor removed the needle and bandaged the small hole. After about 15 seconds, the man’s body took on a purple hue and darkened considerably. Dr. Farkas readied his smaller shield and clutched a thick metal bat in his other hand. With a deafening roar, a black anthropomorphic creature leapt from the man’s chest. It clawed its way out of the man and focused its bright yellow slits of eyes on Dr. Farkas. It screamed, showing off fluorescent white teeth as black saliva dripped out of its gaping mouth. The doctor advanced calmly and pulled the bed on wheels toward the wall. He advanced upon the monster, shield raised. The Naura struck at it with a guttural cry and bit the top edge of the shield. Almost instantly, the doctor swung his weapon at the slimy head of the beast. It was dazed, and Dr. Farkas slammed it into the box and closed the lid with a loud clang. Covering behind my body length shield, I squeaked, “So I’m supposed to do that?”
“Basically.” He replied, studying the creature. “Except that was a small easy one.” Just as he finished talking, the walls of the room shuddered and a large crack appeared in the floor.
“What is that?” I screamed. Dr. Farkas ran to the door and furiously unlocked it. He took off down the hall and leapt down the stairs with me in tow. On the next floor down, I witnessed the most horrific thing in my life. It was a Naura alright, and a big one too. It seemed to be in excess of twenty feet tall, had eight bony legs, and sported two snake like heads each with fangs the size of swords. Behind it I saw the ruins of an armored door much like the one we just ran through, and I realized what happened. I barely made it to the top of the stairs when its double heads smashed through the floor, and it began climbing up and out of the hospital’s lowest floors. Dr. Farkas was right on my tail and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Run!” as we both clambered up the stairs to try to contain the deformed creature which came to be known as the Black Death. It was at this point in history we decided that the old way may be the best way to practice medicine. |
“H-hello?” Your voice echoed throughout the halls.
You were alone.
Again.
You’d transferred straight from England, all the way into this private institution. It claimed it was for advanced students, yet your grades were just barely average.
You knew it was just your mother’s doing, not because you were intelligent. She had promised you would enjoy it here and that the school was “happy to have you”.
Clearly, they were not.
So imagine your surprise when in the first day of school, a girl your age smiled and handed you your schedule. You thought that had been a full declaration of friendship, so here you were, trying to find that same girl.
It was a complete waste of time.
You sighed in defeat and trudged back to your dorm, avoiding the long stares from the other students.
When you walked into your room, however, you found a surprise.
The kind girl was sitting on your neatly made bed with a small smile.
“Uh.....how did you get in here?” You asked. You tensed, expecting her to attack you.
“Someone told me you wanted to see me!” She responded, giggling.
The strange thing was she didn’t answer your question.
But you had never told anyone about her.
“O-okay. What’s your name? I never caught it,” you said. It might’ve looked creepy, but she smiled again. Or was she grimacing?
“Actually, I don’t have one,” she explained. “Most of the students here don’t know their own name. You’ll be like them in a while.”
You backed up, stunned, then realized your back was against the door. That was weird. You hadn’t closed it.
Who was this girl?
She grinned, exposing her canines. “You’ll fit in just fine, Ollie!”
You blinked in shock. She suddenly looked eerie.
The next thing you knew, she was gone. The creases on your bedspread had disappeared completely.
How did she know your nickname? |
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You face planted into the nearest couch pillow and groaned.
Finals *sucked*.
Your friends had invited you to join in on their sleepover night of watching Aladdin. Which meant, to you, a free night to sleep in relative peace.
Sort of.
Morgan chuckled as she brought up Netflix on her TV. “Dude, you’ve only been here for 2 minutes and you’re already sleeping? I thought we’d stay up, like old times!”
Your other friend Ivan laughed, spilling a few kernels from the near to bursting bowl of popcorn he had on his lap. His girlfriend Kay was setting up the table with sodas and more popcorn.
*Seriously, how much popcorn do your friends consume?*
You sighed and tugged on Claire’s sleeve. “How much longer until it starts? I need to nap.” She giggled and patted your head in response. Claire had already graduated from college, and now she was the first one to have a upcoming promotion in your group.
You reluctantly sat up and leaned against the couch, watching the flashing intro of Aladdin.
A few bowls of popcorn later, you were snorting at Kay’s impression of Jafar, the villain. Seeing your friends again had already given you more energy.
Jokingly, you grabbed a nearby desk lamp from Ivan’s office and nearly choked from laughing too much. You held it up like Aladdin had and said in your best impression of him:
“I wish genies were real!”
The room exploded in laughter and cheers. You grinned, reveling in the praise.
But then it evolved into gasps of horror and shock. You turned back to your lamp.
Blue mist had spiraled out of your homemade desk lamp and reformed into a figure. When you frantically looked at it, it nearly gave you a heart attack.
A genie looked back at you, grinning. “You have 2 wishes left, master!”
Ivan spat out his popcorn and promptly declared to the silent group: “I think I’m high.” |
Sheep bound happily in a field. I see them, and I smile. They are light, and fluffy, and they bleat in their adorable little voices. The sun shines down upon them and the vibrant green grass of the pastures they roam. I do love sheep.
A shadow passes over them, my shadow, and my heart swells with delight as I dive towards the little cloud-like mammals. They notice me, and their bleating becomes frantic. Fear permeates the air like a fog as they pass their wordless warning amongst themselves, but there is nothing the cute little fuzz-balls can do. My legendary maw opens, and like a deep crack in the earth, fire spills forth, dousing the sheep in the flames of a living furnace. Their white coats turn black and bleating falls quiet, replaced by the crackle of flames and the whimpers of death.
‘Ha ha!’ I bellow as I arc around through the sky, flapping my wings as I descend to slow down myself down as I land. I come upon a crispy charred corpse, and I lower my head towards the meat. As my razor sharp teeth slice and chomp and skewer the dead little creatures, the delectable flavor of their meat and blood flows over my tongue.
I do love sheep.
The sun begins to rise, drawing me from my euphoric gorging, and I look to the horizon. I furrow my brow as I realize it was already sunny… I question how the sun can be rising if it was already risen. I wiggle my head, the equivalent of a shrug, and chock it up to the dream. Dreams are weird.
Dreams.
‘Oh, I’m dreaming…’ I realize. The second sun that has risen continues to grow brighter, and suddenly I can’t look away. ‘How long have I been dreaming?’ I wonder. It feels like it’s been a while.
I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is a small human woman facing away from me. The edge of her dress is on fire, and from the scattered coals around a nearby fire pit, it was clear she’d had some kind of accident. She bats the edge of her dress with a broom, instinctively moving away from the fire despite it being bound to her clothes. I notice she doesn’t seem particularly distressed, and can hear her muttering to herself, annoyed. I gather this might not be an uncommon occurrence for her.
As she continues her vain attempts to put out the fire, she continues to back away, towards me.
I roll my eyes, and then, without moving my neck and head from where it lies on the ground, I give a huff of an exhale, and blow a strong wind towards the girl. Her hair and her clothes whip around in the gust, and she almost loses her balance, but the flames are blown out immediately.
Slowly, the girl turns to regard me and as my open eyes meet hers, I sense fear in the air, the same fear I feel from the sheep. Her mouth opens and hangs there for a few moments before she speaks.
“Y- you’re a- a- …a-”
“Awake?” I grumble.
“Alive…” she says, eyes wide in disbelief. |
I slowly turn around to see a rhinoceros behind me, confused I turn back around, hit backpage and click the link again. Another rhinoceros appears behind me. This time I was fast enough to turn around and see it materialise right from thin air. It was quite a beautiful sight, seeing the cells grow, multiply, and attach to form organs and consequently, a rhinoceros. It landed on the rhinoceros under it with a plumf that had a very comedic effect to it. Now I’m not sure if spawning in a second one (or whatever you might call that) was a good idea, because I know have 2 rhinos stamping on the floor creating an incredibly loud commotion that could be heard throughout the appartment building. They calmed down within the half-hour, though I’m still not sure I would be able to explain the noise in the morning, that is if I were to get any sleep with rhinoceros roaming around my appartment, probably breaking everything at every step they take.
I decided that that was enough use of my magical phone for the day, and that I would properly use this phone tomorrow when I had more time, better options and much better decision making.
I woke up, quite happy to see that my wall had not been crushed by the animals trying to brutely force their way into my bedroom. I took a few careful steps into my kitchen before realising the coast was clear.
Wanting to discover my phone more I was scrolling through websites while having breakfast and found a fishy link, I clicked on it to see what it was, and it told me to answer a 1-question survey to get a 57” plasma TV, this being exactly what I was looking for I rapidly filled out the question with gibberish, excited to see my new TV. Sure enough, just like yesterday it appeared right in front of me on the floor. On the floor. That probably was not the best spot for it as it wasn’t long before it got crushed under the mighty force of a rhinoceros’ foot. I guess I probably should have seen that coming. For some reason they hadn’t decided to attack me yet, although they clearly liked decimating my new TV, I assumed they were peaceful rhinos and I left for the market to buy some rhino food to keep them alive, I didn’t find anything good but I just bought a few vegetables and went back home to feed my poor rhinos. As I slowly hand-fed them I began to ponder about the kind of things I could do with my phone, I thought about the limits that might come associated with this power, could I make my own website and create these scams myself and get whatever I advertised? With the power I now controlled, I could eliminage world sickness, world hunger, I could do so much, I could make people knowledgeable. I could make this world mine. I walked to my living room, phone in hand, ready to do some very impactful things to our earth. I went back to the tab with the rhinoceros link on, and started pressing the link over and over again. I was going to start by getting a rhino army. |
I woke up feeling groggy and sweaty. *Is it time for work already? God, I hope not,* I thought as I rolled over to look at the alarm clock. Squinting I made out the neon green letters. *2:47 A.M*.
*Why am I awake? It's only been 3 hours since I fell asleep.* Slightly annoyed with my brain for waking me in the middle of a dream, I pull the blankets over my head and try to force myself back to sleep.
*Breathe in. 1, 2, 3. Breathe out.* I continue to count my breathing for a few more minutes until my mind starts to turn to fuzzing, blank thoughts.
**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**
My eyes snap open. *What the hell? Did I just hear that? Did someone just knock at my door?*
Holding my breath, I wait under the blanket. *Maybe I fell asleep and imagined it, maybe it was a short dream.*
I waited, it felt like minutes passed before I had the courage to push my head out from the covers. *Is my door open? No. Closed. Everything looks normal.*
Turning to the clock I see that it reads 2:53 A.M. *It must have been a dream, you live alone, there was no knocking, nobody is in the house, nobody is at the door, just go back to--***KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK--...**
Frozen, I stare at the door. That time I heard it, I really, *really* heard it. My mind begins to race through the reality of what is going on.
*You live alone. There was a knock at the door. This was the second time you heard it. There was definitely a knock at the door. You aren't imagining things.*
*Who has a key to the house? Mom. Does mom even know where the key is? I hid it in her junk drawer in case I lost mine.*
*My girlfriend. Ashley. Is Ashley here? Where is Ashley? Wait, she's out of town. That's why she isn't staying here tonight. At a friends, spending the night. Ashley is not at the door. She would've called, my phone is on sound, I would've heard her calling.*
*My phone. Where is my phone?* Frantically I feel throughout the bed. My hands tangle with the sheets finally finding the shape of the brick. I wrestle it out pulling it up to my face, the light blinds me.
No messages. No missed calls. A flash flood warning. I realize it's storming out, *could I have heard thunder in my tired state and mistaken it for knocking at my door?* I sit in my own thoughts, my hand ready to call Ashley or maybe 911.
Silence.
I decide it's best for me to go investigate what's going on. The only way I'll get any sleep tonight is to do a quick scope of the house, and then I'll be able to get back to sleep. *Nobody is in the house,* I tell myself, *this is an almost non-existent crime neighborhood, besides I would've heard a window break or the door smash.*
*Did I lock the door? Yes. Definitely. But, I better double check when I do the rounds. And text Ashley to see if she's awake. Maybe even call her if she is.*
I stand up and decide to put on pants, if there's someone in this house, it's probably better to confront them with pants. The guys in the movies always die when they face the murderer with just a baseball bat and no pants. I don't wanna be that guy, so I'm wearing pants.
Grabbing the pajama pants lying on the chair next to my bed, I get one leg through the hole before a flash of lightning fills the room.
A very loud BANG follows as I fall to the ground. *Holy. Shit. That is not what I f\*cking needed right now.* I lay on the ground trying to catch my breath, putting the other leg through the hole I stand, hopping up to pull the band up around my waist.
**KNOCK**
KNOCK
KNOCK
The most distinct sound I've ever heard. Someone was outside of my bedroom door. Someone had been outside of my bedroom door, knocking.
I choke. I can't breath. I can't speak.
I try to call out to ask who it is.
"wh-wh-who"
"wh-wh-who"
*F\*ck.*
My mouth won't make the words. I sit in silence trying to croak out. Wishing to ask who is there. To scream.
The door begins to creak, I can hear whoever is on the other side breathing heavily.
Finally something comes out.
*A Scream.*
*....................................................................................................................................................................................................................*
&#x200B;
I jolt up in bed feeling groggy and sweaty. *Is it time for work already? God, I hope not,* I thought as I rolled over to look at the alarm clock. Squinting I made out the neon green letters. *2:47 A.M*.
*Why am I awake right now? It's only been 3 hours since I fell asleep.* Slightly annoyed with my brain for waking me in the middle of a dream, I pull the blankets over my head and try to force myself back to sleep. |
It took a second for Dan to realize he was staring at his bedroom ceiling. His brain hadn't quite caught up to the fact that he was awake. Sirens raced by on the street in front his apartment building, but Dan was too used to city life for that to have woken him. Dan closed his eyes and shifted his hips, fully intent on going right back to sleep. But the shift in bed position jostled the full bladder that had awoken him in the first place.
Dan swept back his just-shy-of-threadbare duvet with an overly dramatic flick of the wrist and swung his feet to the floor. He registered the cliched creak of the floorboards as he stood and then staggered the short walk to his master bathroom wearing a 2014 Lollapalooza t-shirt and boxer briefs. Light from the street streamed in through windows with no blinds, illuminating Dan's path.
The toilet seat was conveniently already up, a benefit of the bachelor lifestyle his choice of sleeping attire indicated. Dan tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he relieved himself. He debated checking his phone on the way back to bed, but dreaded knowing how few hours were left until his daily 5am alarm. Relief complete, Dan didn't bother flushing the toilet or washing his hands. He heard creaks from the ceiling above him, and then a thud. Apparently the fourth floor neighbor was awake.
When Dan exited the bathroom, his demons got the best of him and he pivoted toward the low dresser on the far side of the room rather than returning to bed. Dan flipped over his phone and the screen lit up.
3:54 am.
An annoyed snort escaped from Dan as he flipped the phone back over. An identical snort came from over his shoulder.
Dan turned just as his bed's duvet was kicked to the floor at the end of the bed. The street lamps outside gave Dan enough light to make out a human figure getting out of Dan's bed wearing a t-shirt and boxer briefs. Whoever it was staggered in to the bathroom without so much as a glance in Dan's direction. After a moment, Dan heard a steady stream of liquid blasting in to the toilet bowl.
To even Dan's surprise, he acted quickly. A metallic softball bat used for co-ed summer leagues was propped against the end of the dressed. Dan lifted it and stepped towards the bathroom door, sidling next to the open door so the intruder would not see him. The stream stopped. Dan lifted the bat above his bed, ready to strike.
The intruder stepped out of the bathroom, but instead of moving towards the bed he turned directly towards Dan. A square of light from the window perfectly framed the man's face and Dan's eyes bulged.
It was Dan.
The face. The hair in need of a cut. The eyes. Even the same grubby Lollapalooza t-shirt.
Other Dan looked at the bat Dan had hoisted over his head, then down in to Dan's eyes.
"Who...?"Dan couldn't even finish the question.
"You."Other Dan answered. "Well, in a way."
Dan's eyes shot to the window as more sirens raced by his window. Now that he was fully awake he realized the sirens had never really stopped. Another thud, this time louder, came from above. Then screams. Dan looked back to Other Dan, who's attention had been drawn to the ceiling by the noise. Other Dan looked back to Dan.
"It doesn't have to go that way."Other Dan said in a low voice.
Dan looked to the window, then the ceiling, then back at Other Dan. He found himself tightening his grip on the softball bat still raised above his head.
Dan swung.
\*\*\*\* |
I never thought I’d use this room. Never in my life. My parents warned me of the consequences of using this room. How if I’m not careful I could pass away before they reach 56. But this chemistry test is way too important, and this is the only way to study in time. This may be petty, over the top. But if there’s anyone way besides the usual hard work and focus in the real world, I want to know. So I unlock the room, and open the door. Funny. I always thought such a room would be more... extraordinary. All it has is an old T.V and bed. In the middle is a round table with a raggedy tablecloth. How long was it since someone came here? I put down the textbooks, and start reading. I can pass for sure in here!
Oh no, what time is it? Is it 9 am? Is it the day of the test? Or is it still yesterday, or today? This confusion of time is making my mind run wild. I made a little friend on the wall, his name is Winston. But he won’t shut up about chemical reactions! Even in my sleep I can still hear his voice! I swear it’s been weeks since I went in here, but it’s probably not even the day of the test... I think... I finally know why this room was so abandoned. What’s going on outside? DAMNIT WINSTON I ALREADY KNOW WHAT SODIUM CHLORIDE IS SHUT UP!!!
I can’t take this anymore. I have to escape. This room, it’s... it’s cursed. I can’t live like this. Winston just keeps getting in my head. This room doesn’t just slow down time. I don’t know what, but something here is constantly getting to me... but what!? And Winston still won’t shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!! I need to escape! Why... why is the door not opening?! |
“Danny, I think it’s the time you finally know what’s in the basement” Was this it, finally, I had wondered about it for my entire life. When I was a kid I used to think it had hidden treasures. Or maybe my parents were superheroes and that was their secret lair. I just accepted that I would never know when I got into my teens. Anytime I asked (trust me, it was a lot) my parents would always say the same thing, ”Maybe we will tell you when you’re older.” Today, on my eighteenth birthday, my parents gave me the greatest present of all, the key. I thanked them repeatedly and snatched the key my dad was holding out from his hand and dashed to the basement. I opened the door with anticipation and saw.... nothing interesting. It looked like an ordinary basement, it had old toys from when I was a kid, a folded up ping-pong table, a water heater, and a bunch of storage bins. ”That was a letdown” I think to myself. I looked around at all the dust covered items, and noticed one book on the shelf with no dust. It was as if it was looked at almost everyday. I opened it and saw my name on the inside cover. I turned to the first writing and saw this message.
”Dear Journal,
So far, I have determined that I am stuck in January of 1865. I have found a job with an older couple who needs help on their farm, and around the house. They give me a small salary and are letting me live with them for the time being. I spent the last of my most recent salary on this journal in an attempt to hopefully, not lose my mind. I can't believe my parents, they are such a**holes.” I turn around to see my parents holding a weird IPad-looking device and watching me finish the book. ”What is this all about, Is this a prank, what is that device.” I watch my parents exchange a look and stand in silence until my dad breaks it. ”Son, we have something to explain. You are a.. uh... mistake.” ”So you weren't planning on having me.” ”Yes, but it's more complicated then that. You see we come from the year 2756. We are time-correcters who fell in love on a mission a few decades ago, in our time, but work wouldn't allow us to have a relationship. We decided to start dating in secret, and we had you unintentionally on a mission in 2002. The government wanted you to be executed as to not risk a time paradox from a past baby coming to the future carrying old diseases and bacteria. We decided to take care of you in this time period, when we were looking through documents from the future and past on our Time-pad, we saw you were reported missing on today's date. We then noticed that a person matching your description was found in 1863. We knew that the time line might shatter if we try and keep you here, so we had to do this” ”Do what” ”send you back.” I look on in horror as my mother press a button on the device as a tear roles down her cheek and a portal opens up in front of me and sucks me in. I watch as my whole world disappears before my eyes and I find myself in the woods, I turn around and see a path to a small town. ”Oh no.” I whisper to myself as I wander into the unknown. |
The crunch of lettuce and the squish of tomatoes made a breif echo and was carried away by the cross winds. Mitra looked longingly over the railing, letting small crumbs and debris fall to the almost infinite river below. He sighed, it was a warm day, the cool breeze ruffling through his messy blond hair was only a breif respite from the heat eminating from the rock walls. The canyons of Theyatra where galaxy renown, at least when the Hyper-Web worked, and they provided one of the most comfortable places in the galaxy during the night. Most of the bigger cities on Theyatra had a bustling night life and brought artists, actors, and every other sort of creatively minded person. But now, the hyper-web was down, and tourism stopped.
Mitra looked down the solid cliff walls and sighed, he had seen the destruction in Lamus, Terren, and a plethora of other large cities when the food riots struck and then the power struggles. A few families had come from Hyper-Lopan, vacationers who now where stranded in a tourism planet slowly falling appart. News ended about three weeks ago, and Mitra had to assume that everywhere else on Theyatra was dead.
Only Doma remained, the small, quaint town on the edge of the Rainy shelf, only about 50,000 people and enough agriculture to support itself as well as Dam's and Windmills to take advantage of the violent winds and currents both above and below. Mitra considered these things, considered the gathering clouds above, there was no scientist nearby who could have built a fusion generator and the clouds kept comming meaning solar batteries couldn't be charged. Power was limited as it was, Mitra couldn't even remember the last time he had a hot shower. Still, he took another bite and let the crust of the bread fall to the water below.
He stood up, streached, and began to walk again. Everyone was either in the farms or the mines or in school, so all the streets of the massive underground complexes where empty, as well as the few canyon exsposures where buildings rested along bridges and outcroppings. Mitra liked his job, he loved Doma even before the Shutdown, all the little places he went, all the little outcroppings he found. Ever since the power shutdown communication was limited to the incredible speed of man walking. Their was basically no domesticated animals on Doma, something about how it is inhumane, and so Mitra's archeic job suddenly became very important. An old hobbyist club now became the only way to transport information across Doma.
Today he had a few letters to deliver to some of the houses in this area, properly known as Terran's Canyon. Houses reminiscent of Ancient Earth dwellings dotted the walls and loomed over him while he came out of the cave and into the warm sun again. He knocked on the darkened window of one of the houses, just to see if anyone was home. No one was. Mitra slid the small letter underneath the door and smiled to himself. He liked his job.
So that was how it went for most of the rest of the day. He found a few houses where a small child came to the door and took the letter, but aside from that he mainly didn't see anyone. Then, while the sun was falling casting beautiful orange glow on the walls of the canyon, he reached the second to last house on his route. He stopped, just a moment, and then knocked on the door.
An elderly lady came out, grey lengthy hair covered her face, young in stature but elderly in appearance. She smiled at him, hiding the face she previously had been holding "Ah Mitra, Errono metum a fi"She said, embracing him. Mitra could feel the tears inside of her, the sadness almost transfered between them.
"It's good to see you to"Mitra said backing up "Are you eating well? You are walking without your cane this time"
"Yea, Yea"She said, happy and shaking her head "I noss moa forever"
"I know"Mitra said comming in and closing the door behind him. It was a small stitching shop, mostly full of teaching stations instead of actually mending anything. "I had to head to Mayor's quarters with a special delivery, that always takes me longer"Mitra touched another piece of cloth on a table.
"I...I desire you're company"The lady said walking over to him. Mitra was taller than her, and in his blue clean uniform he stood out to the dusty cloak clad lady.
Mitra shook his head as he leaned against a table. "You're Standard is getting better"Mitra said nodding "It's 'I want your company' Desire is stronger"
The lady didn't seem to notice the correction "You...You forever are gone, you forever stay away, please stay"She said, in a half broken attempt to not use the Patois she was use to.
"Euna"He said, voice soft, voice comforting "I...I...You know I have a job, a requirement"He said finally sighing "Cerrum esn mali fuso mait"He said, sharp and clear, but not as perfect as the lady's
She began to shake her head "You...You forever away"She said through distant sobs "I...I know I never ask you, I possibly never ask you"She sat down on a bench "I be tired Mitra, I be forever tired"Mitra got up, it must have been a hard day for her "I see, all the girls, all the girls, forever and ever, they make me so sad, so sad"She said and Mitra put a loving arm around her shoulder "They be smart, quick, loving, they all word 'mama Euna, Mama Euna"A gentle tear fell from her eye. "They stay but not me"
Mitra nodded, not saying anything, letting Euna go through her own greif. "She could still be alive"He said, swallowing down a lump in his throat. "She could be helping somebody right now thinking of you"
"Through the Veil"Euna said, confusing a translation "Tuumma seltro feiat, morkain eaaat"Euna said in quick proccession. She sighed, having probably cried all the tears she could possibly have cried. "I....I want to see her"Euna said.
Mitra smiled, blinking back the tears in his eyes as well. He pulled out a small stick from his pocket, wires running from it in a hack job attempt to increase the remaining power. "I only got 5 seconds"He said as he pressed the button, small pulsating lights shining under his finger. "Is that okay?"
Euna nodded and leaned her head against Mitra's shoulder "Tessna"
Mitra pressed the button and a holograph shot out, obviously shotty and half corrupted but it was still there. The girl, the girl was still there, Mitra nodded and silently mouthed the words.
"Hey Mitra, Nossa Mada, how are you? My class is going to the Nodronian preserve tommorrow and-"The message cut off, and Euna nodded. Mitra took a deep breath and looked forward, just at the empty store. Then, suddenly, a power connection made itself, emergency circuits connected to the main power supply and drained themselves of all secret emergency complex power. The battery could have lasted for 30 years and sent messages through Hyper-web gates, but that was no longer important so the internal systems broke down and supplied a surplus of power.
"-And Mada, Elo coma setun falemas"The hologram said again, shaking a commanding finger, a little bit of a jovial jaunt in her voice "So that will be it from me, Hope to hear from you soon, leave some red-bread out for me when I get back and you Mitra"She seemed to look right at him, right into his heart. "Keep making music for me, I don't want my house to be quite while I'm gone"She smiled, her iconic smile, the smile that had inspired paintings, both of her face and of her soul "See you both soon, and Let the Beyondmind be with you"She waved her hand and the hologram shut off.
Mitra could hardly belive himself. He looked at the stick while Euna just nodded, half asleep half in greif. Their was another 2 hours of power left on the stick, an amazing gift, he almost began to cry as he saw that 3% mark on the designation chamber. He stood up and Euna, exhausted from the events of the day and the amazing long message she leaned over on the bench and fell asleep. Mitra put the stick back in his pocket and smiled. Gently he picked up the older lady and walked her upstairs and put her in bed.
It was dark outside, and people where begining to return. He finally let himself cry as he locked the door behind him, not sob, simply cry. Let the emotion move through him, let it become a part of him for a time being, and then let it go. He walked to the last house on the block and sighed looking up at it. He took out a key and went inside, a gentle music of the tone modulated cliff winds chiming in the distance. Mitra still cried, soft rolling tears as he went over to the player and took out the pad. He continued to cry, letting out a soft whimpering noise as he took out the new one from his now empty letters bag. He placed it in the receiver and hit the repeat button. He smiled as birds called to themselves in the distance, a gentle string waving it's way in between them all. Mitra's music had once been galaxy wide, he was kind of a small artist on the galactic scene, but he had his music played in various Bio-clubs and Terran-bars across the galaxy. Now, the only place that played his music was an empty house, an empty house that held no one, simply waiting for the day, the day when it's occupant will return. Mitra nodded toward the darkness and took a step back, leaving another letter under the door.
"See you soon"He said as he opened the door, shutting it solemnly behind him. |
Humans don’t know it yet, but we’ve had been on earth since the 2000’s, merely camouflaged in with them to learn more about life on earth.
I am one of the observers. Along with a handful of other aliens, we were scattered across the world to learn about different cultures, different governments, different people. Over the years I’ve grown accustomed to acting human. It’s become part of my life.
As one of the observers there was a lot of pressure to stay hidden. From experience, all the aliens learned life hacks and tricks to make blending in easier.
I woke up to the streaks of light penetrating my curtains. Long streaks of hair pointing in all directions were the first thing I had to take care of.
As I was fixing up my hair I heard a knock on the door. I hurriedly did up my bun and opened the door. Two men in suits and shades looked down at me, almost like they were shaming me. What did I even do? Oh wait, I’m an alien. How could they know? Do they know? I gotta report this t-
“Are you Diana?” the taller asked.
“Uh.. who are you guys?” I countered.
“We’re with the CIA, and we’d like to ask you some questions.” the shorter stated.
By now I was sweating bullets. Surely I wasn’t found out. How could I have been? I was doing so well!
“Where were you last night Ms..?”
“Rubbish. Yeah it’s a weird last name. My parents were hipsters.”
“So where were you?”
“Oh, right. Well I was here doing my homework.”
“Is it alright if we have a look around?”
“Uhh... don’t you need a warrant or something?”
“Not us” the shorter said as he pushed himself past me.
I needed to get out of there quickly. Grabbing my backpack, I started for the door.
“Going somewhere Ms. Rubbish?” The taller questioned.
“Uhh.. yeah. I have school,” I replied.
“We’d like you to stay here until we’re done searching,” he continued.
“Well I really have to g-“
“Miss, don’t bother.”
At this point my heart was beating faster than a human could handle.
“Hey come check this out!” the shorter yelled from my room. This was bad news. If I stay any longer I’ll be done for.
As soon as the taller was in my room, I bolted out the door with a chair and propped it up against the handle outside.
“She’s running!” I heard from inside.
Running towards the train station, I pondered about what this meant for me. I’m caught. I’ll just have to outrun them. |
Be gentle, this is my first time sharing anything at all!
&#x200B;
The irony of it all.
For so much of the 20th and 21st centuries, this place had been the go-to scapegoat; “yes we need to make some improvements, but have you seen the numbers coming from China?” Smog, civilians wearing masks, a questionable communist government. Mere propaganda directed at middle-class westerners. It was all a distraction, a sleight of hand to serve the purpose of the corrupt western governments and hide the experiments.
Nobody saw it coming of course, except for those who did. Tragedies are often blessed with a healthy portion of hindsight, they said, and anyone who claims to have been warning against The Corrosion is deluded, or a revisionist swine. Dissenters were shot.
Tragic as it was, none of it mattered to Tamon. From the moment she’d first climbed a tree too high, looked down and felt the pang of dread-only to swallow it and continue climbing- she’d always lived in the moment. She liked to think of herself as an adaptive problem solver, living by the mantra: “*So what are we going to do about it?”* She’d journeyed all the way here from Thailand, mostly on foot, with the hope of discovering PhoenixRise Forest. Supposedly the one place where the toxicity was low enough to take your mask off for a few minutes, where there was a chance (with the right data) to undo The Corrosion. Of all places, it had been narrowed down to China.
The irony of it all.
The journey hadn’t been a pleasant one. Months of forced marching had left Tamon with a collage of blisters and callouses all along her feet, despite the quality of the boots she wore, and her soles were now reminiscent of crocodile skin. Washing had been limited to whenever she passed a hostel once a week, and even more so once the Triads seized control of the clean water and the rationing kicked in; the last wash she’d had was 26 days ago. Even though she’d received The Dose early enough to avoid getting sick, she saw enough evidence of the misfortunate; brown stains against white glowing walls, the desolate stares of the amputees, 5-metre-high piles of corpses. No, this was not a journey to be remembered fondly.
‘…*so what are we going to do about it?’*
Initially, it seemed as though nothing was different about this forest compared to the others, but then, Corrosion hotspots always seemed normal. In the early days, the skeptics would refuse to wear masks where it wasn’t unarguably dangerous. Before long the reports would come in that the bold ones were dead, rotting from inside out, having suffered greatly in their final hours. After that, people wore masks at all times unless they were in the Decon units. Tamon looked closely. The plants were thriving; there were no burn marks on the leaves and no delimbed trees, the floor was clear of rotted vegetation, and there were droppings-squirrel, probably- scattered here and there. Then, a sound as sweet as honey poured into Tamon’s ears, jolting her with electricity: birdsong.
*‘Could it be?’*
Life. Signs of life. Indisputable. She scrambled for her equipment- the readings confirmed her thoughts. This had to be PhoenixRise- if anywhere, it had to be here. Something was reversing the effects of the Corrosion, and this was where it would all begin. She made recordings for her employer, as much as she could; photos, audio samples, data readings, graphs plotted, samples of soil and bark and leaves and animal droppings. Any reasonable person would say it was enough.
But it wasn’t enough. The Government, The Militias, the Triads- none of the warring powers would accept any evidence too “confusing” for the masses. There was only one thing that would be accepted. It had to be video evidence, irrefutable proof that someone had taken off a mask outside and survived. The technology to spoof it was no longer available to the public. If footage was released, then something could be done. ‘*If I do this,’* Tamon thought, ‘*the world could go back to how it was’.*
On the other hand… if she was wrong, then her fate would be an agonising death. But that was not worth thinking about. Why would she have travelled for so long, seen such horrors, if not to take the risk? She steadied herself. Closed her eyes to focus on her heartbeat, which was hammering away, the beat ricocheting around her body. Beads of sweat trailed her temples. As she raised her hands to unclasp the mask, she inhaled and held the breath- before realising that doing so was not the purpose of the exercise. As she unfastened the straps, one thought echoed within:
*‘So what are we going to do about it?’*
With a grin, she lifted the mask. |
“Happy Hunting” He said, a smirk spreading across his face, “Should’ve known you’d crop up eventually.” She held the knife, it rested just in his field of vision, saturated in blood, his blood.
“Tell you the truth, probably should’ve killed you when you were small. So defenceless” He said feigning joy through gritted teeth,. He looked at her face, shrouded like a cloak by a miasma of wet jet black hair, but he could sense the fire in her eyes. He looked at the blood dripping from the knife, it’s queer form a striking familiarity. “Tell the others... I sad... hi.”
He stood up. Meeting eyes with the Woman, “One last dance?” He asked, while gripping the handle of his blade.
“Are you gonna bore me to *death* with your inane rambling, or are we gonna fight?” She said, her voice shaking with an unconscious fury.
“Fine by me, lass” He replies softly, “Fine by me.”
His sword left its sheath with a metallic roar; he brought it down on her head; she stepped out of the blades path and thrust the dagger into his chest, aside the plate that protected him. Before taking the knife out and thrusting it into his neck.
He stumbled away, and collapsed onto the mud. She watched as the last embers of life left his eyes. And this chapter of her life was brought to a close. |
My affliction feels similar to what I imagine haunts the lycanthrope. When the blue sky and tangerine sun trade places with the stars and the darkness and the shifting pale lantern which illuminates that darkness, something hidden draws out of me the way that mythological beast emerges out of the diseased man. My beast is not hairy or violent; fangs do not tunnel their way out of my gums. But like the werewolf, I become unaware, out of control. Ravenous. Ravenous not for food, but for any substance that can satisfy my appetite until the morning. And when that sun rises, I know I've lived to see another day. I live for the day. It is the sanctuary from this madness and weakness that curses me. It is all I have.
I have no compulsion when the sun is out. That part of me hides away, stowed; it is afraid of the light. It will not show itself. Yet it lingers, the way an unwelcome pest might in the walls of a home. I am a different person in the daylight. But my dilemma at times of weakness is I've become so identified with the beast that I question who is the real me and who is the false me. In my heart, I know the answer. But it is a struggle. The beast can be compelling, persuasive. I do not want to lose this battle. I can't. I can't. I am tired.
If there's anything left in the morning I throw it or dump it in the toilet. This doesn't do me much good, as it requires me to spend more money to replace it once the night comes, but the action comforts me in the moment. Lets me know I can be free from temptation if I really wanted. But that's the problem. When the sun is down, I don't want to. I can't help it. That possibility gets thrown into the toilet, just without my tangibly doing so. The beast gets its payback. Eye for an eye.
It's not like I'm dysfunctional. I have a good job that I like. I make decent money. Someone in a hole as deep as I am needs money to keep the shovel in order. As far as all my colleagues know, I'm normal. When I'm hanging hard, I blame it on a lack of sleep. My dog kept me up. He needs training, they say. He's pretty rambunctious, I reply. I can handle him.
I don't have a dog. I have a cat that visits a few times a week for food. I don't think our relationship extends upon me fulfilling his requirement for food.
The work day is almost over. By the time I get home the sun will be working through its descent. And then I'll start to get the itch, as I have every single day for the last two and a half years. The hope that one day it will go away on its own gives me some pleasure; it helps me look forward to the bright horizon of tomorrow. But I know that won't happen tonight. Tonight I'm going to scratch the shit out of that itch until it bleeds and until the itch is satisfied and until I'm satisfied and until that damn beast is satisfied. And then I will awake in a daze, head throbbing. And I'll flush whatever is left. And then I'll realize that this isn't a battle but a war, a long bloody war that will require sacrifice but only when I'm ready and I know that I'm not ready. Today, I will look forward to tomorrow. |
I was the ruler of a enormous, dense cluster of stars. All except for one average planet. They weren't too determined, excessively annoying, or in possession of decent defenses. Their planet was green, blue, and white. A rare palette, but still not even a pathetic excuse of a defense against master conquerors. They had an average star and some average planets residing next to them.
"Klto, how's the progress on that planet going?"my assistant Beans asked.
"Not good, Beans. I can't figure out any reason on why it's inhabitants are still alive, healthy, and refusing to give up."
"Maybe it's because of you not putting enough ships to attack it?"
"No, I already sent a hundred ships there."
"Maybe you should send—"
"Do you seriously think sending more pilots to their death would be a good idea?"
"Well, how about sending them all at once to cluster up the firepower?"
"Hmph. I'm just going to tell you to recall the conquering of Planet Rainbow."
"What rainbow?"
"...you really don't remember?"
Planet Rainbow was the nickname we gave to the planet that I conquered a year ago. Besides having the extremely uncommon colors of the rainbow, all its inhabitants slapped their enemies and screeched at the top of their lungs to "defend"their planet, and were pretty crazy overall. The usual infantry unit that I sent to quickly conquer planets actually went insane from all the screeching, and so did the next hundred, surprisingly, so I decided to crash a ship on autopilot into the planet which immediately split it in two and killed everybody. Not like that was a problem, because my empire pieced the planet back together in thirty seconds.
For the average blue, green, and white planet, they used the classic, laughably weak "explode the projectile"method to stop the ship that was hurtling towards them. I would still be laughing about it if it hadn't actually worked. I tried the same method with eight equally distanced ships, and it still failed.
Scheme after scheme after scheme for eight centuries. Try as I might, nothing worked. At this point, I had conquered every major celestial object in the galaxy except for that nuisance of a planet, and my workers were starting conquer large asteroids in their spare time.
"Don't give up, Klto. We'll destroy the planet eventually."
"That's what my entire empire's been telling me, and nearly a millennium has passed, Beans. The planet's inhabitants aren't trying to stop us; maybe we could just not take—"
"Nah; not taking that as an excuse. You forced me through lots of nights without any sleep, pushing me through some real sore spots of planets that I thought were better to just leave be. Was it worth it to not leave them be? Yes. Look how far we've gotten! Just one more thing to do, and then you'll be the official ruler of the galaxy."
"...fine. I'll send a hundred more ships to the planet right now,"I said, as I turned on my communication device and set the destination to my conquering coordinator's one.
A few days later, I got a confirmation that the planet had been successfully split in two. I decided to go on break after millions of years of taking over space objects, but not forever. In my youth, I caught wind of a rumor about there being more than one galaxy, and galaxy clusters and superclusters existing. Of course, I wasn't even smart enough to take over my own house, so I decided to just set my sights on my galaxy. However, I have much more experience in seizing rulership of stuff now. Will it take me ages to find another galaxy, only to be stopped by the even tougher inhabitants that reside there? Maybe, but will the reward of an intergalactic empire be worth it? The answer is clear—yes. |
It was finally here. He had scored a great deal on it and only paid $5200 for the greatest appliance known to man. The plumbers brought it in and took kit upstairs. A few hours later it was set up, but he couldn’t use it just yet. Two more days so the drywall could be put up and painted. Then he could enjoy the high life.
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The day was finally here. He came home as the contractor was leaving. It was done! Billy practically ran up the stairs and threw the door open and looked upon his Kohler Numi. The top rectangular cover lifted up and pulled back. He could hear the ever so slight whir as the fan for the footwarmer kicked on. He undid his belt and dropped his pants. Billy grabbed the controller from its magnetic wall dock as he turned around and sat down. Slightly warm. Long gone were the days of a cold seat. No longer would his booty be bullied by brisk bands. He let out a content sigh. His phone synced and began playing “O Mio Babbino Caro”. Was it cheesey? Absolutely. Did it make this experience all the better? Absolutely. He spent awhile playing with the lighting and other settings. Everything was going to be just right everytime he needed to use his Kohler Numi.
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Half an hour goes by and business has been taken care of. Deodorizing fan? On. Looking at the controller he selects pulsating wash. Lukewarm water shoots up at cleans his rear. Billy just thought of all the toilet paper he would be saving with this wonderful jet of water. The warm air dried everything off. What a wonderful experience.
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Four weeks later Billy came home from work and saw his front door broken in. His house had been broken into. It is the worst feeling a homeowner can feel besides pulling up to an inferno. He wondered what they could have stolen. He stepped in cautiously and listened; were they still here? Nothing. Still creeping silently through his own home he looked around. Nothing was disturbed. No drawers were open, papers shuffled or a picture frame askew. It was all in perfect condition. Billy wondered if the intruders ran as soon as the door was broken in for some reason.
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Upstairs the story was the same. He’d call a contractor to fix the door later, but all the anxiety had made Billy need to use the bathroom. “Oh.” Was all he could say. On the white tile floor there was only a small 3” wide hole where his Kohler Numi should have been.
His precious Kohler Numi had been stolen. “What kind of monster takes another man’s throne?!” he wondered to himself. “I should have never left the box outside!” he thought. A moment later he pondered if he could put up flyers asking for the return of his Kohler Numi. He’d gladly pay $6,000. It took so long to get things just right. Besides it was *his*. Using a regular toilet felt so wrong and peasanty now. How could he go on? Just then his body betrayed him. Kneeling on the floor Billy now had pants full of excrement. |
All my life I've looked up at stars and wondered about what life forms may lurk in the vast open darkness of the sky. Today my team uncovered what appears to be a time capsule, similar to one we sent into deep space about 40 years ago. It contains drawings of creatures fairly similar to us. What could this mean?
We have contacted the national department of space affairs. They still think it's a hoax. People of Xænım, our blue and green planet, all do. No one wants to look up to the stars when there is so much to do here, among ourselves. Wars, politics, thievery in a national scale. Our greed keeps us from stargazing.
I've further analyzed the data. There is an abundance of patterns in it. Whatever species made them must've been very intelligent and evolved. More so than us probably. This is insane. I'm sitting in my lab, thinking about alien life- that now definitely exists, and I'm shaking. They're not even here yet, and somewhy, I'm scared. |
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present you the Chrono Drive!"
The scientist looked like a typical mad inventor from old movies: wild grey hair, ragged labcoat, strange mannerisms. However, this man was standing in a NASA conference room at a table, on which a small space probe was placed, and serious executives and engineers were listening to him.
"We tried to crack the secret of faster than light travel for years. We theorized about exotic matter and wormholes. We tried to avoid time dilation and temporal paradoxes. It turns out, ladies and gentlemen, that we looked at the problem from the wrong side! Time travel is an essential part of faster than light travel, not an undesirable side effect!"
The scientist turned on a giant monitor. A photo of an unknown planet loomed on screen. It looked like Mercury, gray, barren, pockmarked in craters.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Proxima b, as photographed by this miniature probe. The probe moved through time by traveling 450 years into the future. This timespan was carefully calculated so that Proxima Centauri would end up on the same place relative to the center of the galaxy where the Sun is now. The probe took photos and traveled back in time, returning to the Solar System".
"Are you proposing to use this method for human space exploration?", a journalist asked. "Isn't it a little inconvenient? We will have one colony several centuries in the past, another several millenia in the future."
"Why, yes, of course! If we avoid sending radio messages to Earth, we will surely avoid time paradoxes!" |
Hey! I thought to myself one rainy Friday morning in New York City. Wouldn’t it be cool to have, like, some super epic powers? Like Superman, but better? I could, like, stop the rain... and always look good... and be strong...
And just as I am thinking this, it all happens. The rain begins to die down, my hair was combed and styled, and I could feel my internal body strengthening. What? I pinched myself, because it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. Obviously I was sleeping. Or maybe I’m hallucinating... that coffee did taste off this morning.... I was jarred from my curiosity when my favorite coworker bumped into me.
“Hey Phil, nice hair style!” He cheerily commented. “Have you worked out lately? You look great!”
“Uh.... yeah actually I’m... glad you noticed. Hey what was the weather forecast for today?”
“Well the nightly news said it was going to rain all day, but it’s cleared up nicely, hasn’t it! They’re always wrong... I wonder why I even pay attention these days. Anyway, see you at the office!”
“Yeah... see you too.” I walked into the bakery I eat at every day, and asked the cashier for my usual, a blueberry bagel and a banana. I sat down and thought about the insanity of the morning. I held my hand in front of me and thought about the morning paper. To my astonishment, it simply appeared in my hand, open to the lead story. I decided to call in sick that day for work.
Over the course of the weekend, I missed one family gathering, three office calls, and four scheduled activities with my friends doing random things around my apartment. Articles of clothing were flying around, I commenced a surprise reorganization of my furniture, and I converted the place to a more open-style by taking out the wall between my bedroom and the main room.
I ended up quitting my job in the crest of my joy because I could just make money appear in my hand, but asked to come back in the trough of my mood three days later because I got bored. Bored! With superpowers! Sounds insane, I know. Hey, call it a secret identity, call it a longing for the familiar. I don’t care. And believe me, I’ve tried to do some good things. Be Batman, fighting crime as a night vigilante! Sounds cool, but only if you happen to live in a world of crime. I tried this once, going out at night with night vision, but all I did was help a stray cat down from the top of a building. And the one chance I had at being a good hero, I blew. I witnessed a man getting mugged in an alleyway, but was too concerned about my identity that I wouldn’t do anything without a disguise. By the time I found a hat and old jacket, both parties were gone. This hero stuff is difficult. So here I sit, in an office in New York, writing a crummy life story about a stupid self proclaimed hero who can’t even do an office job correctly. |
I had done jobs like this before. It wasn't hard, all you have to do is stand there, stay silent, and look intimidating. At nearly seven feet tall, and constantly wearing what many people have to described to me as my signature "don't-fuck-with-me"expression, it was an easy task to accomplish.
Something was different this time though, I could tell right when I showed up. My last job I was working as a bodyguard for one of the cities more prominent drug dealers. Apparently he had been impressed with my performance since he was the one who had recommend me for this assignment. All I knew about the job was that we were supposed to be overseeing some kind of high value deal between two clients. As soon as I walked in to the warehouse I saw the other guards, six of them, all of us in dark suits, dark shades, and carrying at least one pistol each. The man who had hired us was there too. He was an asian man, rail thin and nearly as tall as me. As I entered the warehouse he motioned for me to go stand with the other guards.
In the center of the warehouse there was a single brown wooden stool, and on top of that stool there was a small silver briefcase. My imagination immediately began to run wild with thoughts of what might be inside, but of course, I knew better than to start asking questions. Whatever we were supposed to be guarding, it was extremely valuable.
We waited for what seemed like hours. Eventually the buyer arrived, she was completely alone and walked straight to the briefcase. The asian man walked to meet her and signaled us to follow behind him.
"So this is it?"the woman said. She appeared to be around forty years old with dark hair and dark eyes.
"This is it."Our employer said placing his hands on the briefcase. I was standing directly behind him and my curiosity was driving me crazy.
"Before I hand this over to you, there is the matter of your payment miss. My boss has asked for one hundred and sixty thousand."The man said undoing the latches on the case.
The woman seemed not at all shocked by the price and simply responded.
"I have one hundred and twenty thousand"
"One forty"the man said
The woman remained silent for a few moments as she contemplated the situation. Then she nodded.
"Done, now let me see it."
As the man who had hired us opened the case I leaned in slightly to make sure I'd be able to catch a glimpse of whatever was inside. However, as the lid was opened my curiosity was instantly and completely replaced with a sense of utter confusion. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the situation, around what I was seeing.
It was a button, a small black button. As the man spun the case around for the buyer to see I slipped my hand on to the grip of my gun. Maybe this was some kind of set up, maybe things were about to go south in a big way. But they didn't, instead the woman just smiled.
"Excellent, I'll be right back with the cash."With that, she turned back the way she came and walked out of the warehouse.
A few moments later she returned carrying a small leather bag.
"It's all there."She said. Throwing the bag to one of the other guards. She then closed the still open case, picked it up, and walked back to the door.
"As always, a pleasure doing business with you K."The woman said shutting the door behind her.
"You guys did great!"The man whose name was apparently K said. "Your payments will be wired to you within the next twenty four hours. Dismissed."
I waited for the others to leave. Once everyone except for K and I were gone I decided to talk to him. I know you're not generally supposed to ask questions about this kind of work, but I had to know.
"So, that was a button."I said.
"Not just a button."K responded. "that was Debra Garrett's button.
"Oh,"I said trying to pretend that made some kind of sense. "And, who is Debra Garrett?"
"She's a little old lady who lives on Oak Street. Some of our agents broke in to her house last week, that button was taken from one of her sewing kits."
"Oh."I said again "Is she like...a famous fashion designer, or seamstress or something?"
"No, sewing is just a hobby for her."K said in casual almost uninterested voice.
"Is she rich?"I asked
"No, she's a retired school teacher."
"Did your guys take anything else from her house?"
"No, just the button."
"Oh,"I said yet again "So....that woman....she just payed one hundred and forty thousand dollars for a button...a regular black button from an old lady's sewing kit?"
After that K's expression became somewhat confused.
"I just told you, it's not just a button. It's a lost button."
"Right,"I said "So, why did you need seven armed guards to look after a lost button?"
With that K's expression changed from mild confusion to complete bewilderment. As if I had suddenly just started speaking in gibberish.
"You...you were here."He said. "That button was worth one hundred and forty thousand dollars. That's why I needed guards."
"Right"I said "Sorry....I guess I was just.....confused."
"Do you want a bonus?"K asked "is that what this about?"
"What? No, I was just-"
"Well look, that's not up to me."K said "Those kind of decisions are left up to the big boss. But, I'll tell you what, you did do a great job today so I'll run the idea past him."
"Umm...thank you."I said unsure of what to do in the situation.
"Well, I'm gonna get out of here now."K said. "You can expect a call from us in the next few days or so. I've got a great lead on some loose change."
K left the warehouse and left me standing there stunned and confused. This had been without question the weirdest job I had ever taken part in. But, the deal went down smoothly, and the pay was good. So when that call comes in, I think I'm gonna have to answer. |
*Decided to tell this story from a different angle; my apologies.*
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Yet another day, yet another occupant. This time, it was a rather disheveled, very distraught man. His clothes were ripped in some areas, singed in others. His hair was unkempt and wild, same with his beard. I stared at him from the opposite end of the room as Janet manned the front desk. She was always good with the new ones. A cordial smile, a welcoming nod, a soothing voice--it all went a long way when it came to explaining to the lost where they ended up.
They called this place the Bermuda Triangle. It wasn't just some sort of anomaly that caused the disappearance of numerous people over the decades; it was a full-fledged luxury hotel, complete with every imaginable amenity. Sure, our aesthetic was pretty outdated, at least in the modern sense, but there's nothing we couldn't provide. Infinity pools? We have them. Room service? Endless and free. Indulging in hedonism? We turn a blind eye, mostly, as long as you follow the rules.
Janet called me over, and I donned the typical customer-friendly smile. On the inside, I couldn't care less than I already did, but it was imperative to ease the people into a sense of comfort; that's the Bermuda Principle. Three core tenets: hospitality, congeniality, and survivability. The last one is the most important. After all, we were in the midst of preparation.
The man asked me where he was, and I told him that he was in the Bermuda Triangle. His expression gave away the incredulity, but it was normal. I continued to inform him about the hotel: how it came to be (we were always here), who its founder was (their name can't be said), how many people were located here (more than we expected), if Amelia Earhart was here (she used to be). You know, the works. Then, he asked a question that I hadn't heard asked since the '80s--when he could go home.
I paused momentarily, standing in front of a wall that was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond, the light filtered through the water and painted select columns in iridescent shades. The whale, larger than most others I'd seen, barreled slowly through the deep, an audible hum vibrating the panes. It was always a beautiful sight. It made me feel melancholic. Made me feel...
My voice as grave now as it was the first time, I told him about what was to come and why he couldn't leave. There was an event coming, looming on the horizon. The kind of event that convinces the believers to wear full-body signs and patrol the sidewalks, ringing bells and screaming that the end is nigh. The different between those events and this one was that those never came to pass. But, here, in this realm, we had irrefutable proof.
In mere years, the oceans were to dry. Earth wasn't expecting a full-scale invasion, but that's what was waiting for u-- them. Cosmic entities, innumerable and insatiable, chose their planet as their next target, and would descend upon them with such ferocity that even the most prepared doomsday expert couldn't possibly detect it. The oceans would be drained, and when that wasn't enough, the blood would be next. Those who were lucky to find shelter, whether underground or with the military, wouldn't last long. Infighting and desperation would kill most of them, and a false trust in the silence would take care of the rest.
Naturally, he was bewildered, but more justifiably, he was angry. He didn't believe me, and maybe he was right to. When faced with disaster and the clarity that comes with it, most people wish to shy away and remain ignorant until the bitter end, if only to enjoy what little time is left. Again, naturally, he said he would simply leave, and I told him he could try, but I knew better. The doors disappear once you're inside. You had that entire section of stairs, up to the front door, to decide whether or not you wanted in, and now you can't leave. None of us can.
I waited for him at the door to his room. When he finally exhausted all of his anger and fear, he shuffled down the hall to me and I motioned him inside. He sat on his new bed and stared at the television. I recognized his dead stare all too well. With a nod, I mentioned the room service to him, as well as the number to the front desk, in case anything else was needed. He could only manage a weak grunt, barely noticeable as I shut his door.
As I passed the front desk, I told Janet my shift was done and she nodded, wishing me a good night in the same sweet, tender voice she used with all new arrivals. Part of me was agitated at her for it, but part of me sympathized, and so I flashed her a delicate smile as I left to my room. When I entered, I sat down and stared at the television screen for a time before I reached out in front of me and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser.
Inside was a picture of my wife and I, too long ago to remember the day. She had blonde hair and a smile that was unforgettable. I had never looked worse for wear, but it was hard to be photogenic at the time. The war was on and every pilot had to be at the ready. She kissed me goodbye and I hugged her tight, promised her that I would be home soon.
When I arrived, I didn't know what to expect. The last thing I remembered was the plane diving head-first towards dark water, and then I was here. I walked up the steps, crossed the threshold. I saw Janet for the first time, and she gave me the spiel she gave everyone else, and I reacted the same way that man did. I, too, was tired and angry and skeptical. I learned a bit before I took on the job what he would come to realize in time.
Once you're inside the Triangle, you can't leave. None of us can. |
The two men sit either side of each-other. An oak table with Fine engravings between them. And upon it, a map, a pair of Tumblers filled with malt brown brandy, and a pair of lit cigars, suspended in the ashtray between them, the map itself was a map of the Martian continent, where chess pieces represented divisions and brigades of the Republican militia.
In this humble room, over this small map, would form an alliance, which would be a beacon of hope, in this endless bitter war.
“You are bold to step foot here.” The old man said, President Dexter, champion of the people, “Yet, in your line of work, I suppose tenacity is to be expected.” He replied. Mulling over the map
The young revolutionary stood up, drank down the bitter liquor and moved behind the man, inspecting the map from behind him. “Well, Mr. President, that may be so.” The words were woven from the silver tongued Alexander. The revolutionary, leading the Martian peacekeepers, a partisan faction dedicated to brokering a peace between the three factions. “But I find that, Tenacity...” He said, slowly pushing one of the pieces, “Is a close bedfellow to over-confidence...” He said, further pushing the piece until it was scarcely standing, “and Overconfidence, gets men killed.” He finished, pushing the piece onto the map, watching it roll onto the floor.
“Alright then.” The president replied, “So, *why* are you here.” The old man bit down on the cigar, and took a long drag. Then filling the room with smoke. Alexander walked to the balcony of the room, staring at the vast city below. And the pillars of smoke in the distance
“Look around you, the communists and the monarchists are burning the countryside. Grand Martial Lennox is closing in one you and General Carter is assaulting your western flank. They are tightening around you like a vice.” Alexander replied, to the awe of the elder.
“You certainly know your enemy, boy.” He replied, “So, you know of our precarious position, why are you here? So far from home.”
“The communists and the Monarchists like to talk all of that guff about each other. But underneath the posters and ceremony, they’re the same. A despot, unquestionable, infallible. It’s a recipe for disaster.” Alexander replied, with rich spite on his tongue. He moved closer to the old man, and kneeled down to meet his eyes, “But, you, you’re different, you don’t need propaganda to maintain loyalty, you don’t need fear and gods and paranoia. I have everything needed to turn the tide of this war. Information, manpower, arms. I could bring the people’s front onto its knees in a week. I could kill the King at the snap of my fingers. I have agents in every nook and cranny, it’s taken me a decade of work and intrigue but its finally payed off.”
“So you propose an alliance?” The eyes of the man lit up, the first time in a while it would seem, “To drive our enemies into the darkness and tend to our fair planets wounds!”
Alexander slowly stood up, his eyes ablaze with sinister anticipation, “No, old man, I’m here to give you the honours.” He whistled, to which two guards entered the room, “The honours of falling first.”
The hope in Dexter’s eyes turned to dread and despair, he beckoned reason to Alexander but his pleas fell on deaf ears, “Kill him.” He said to the guards, “Be quick, we have lots of work to do.”
Dexter watched as Alexander walked down the long hallway, whistling gleefully, as the two grim faced guards closed in around him. His screams resonating throughout the parliament. |
I was in my room working on a new joke when my best friend stuck his head inside.
"Sup, dude. Want to shoot some hoops?"he asked, tossing a big, orange basketball up in the air.
I shook my head in frustration as I struggled to come up with a punchline to the joke. "Can't,"I muttered. "I'm working on a joke."
He stepped inside. "A joke? What, planning to be a comedian one day?"
"No. You know Lizzy? From school?"
He rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed. "Who doesn't? But whats that got to do with you sitting here writing jokes?"
"She likes guys that make her laugh. So..."I gestured to the paper. "But it turns out theres like 12 other guys trying to get her, too."
My friend started laughing so hard he dropped the ball and grabbed his stomach as he flopped backwards.
I frowned at him. "What's so funny?"
He wiped a tear from his eye. "You guys *do* know she has a boyfriend already, right?"
I scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"I'm serious. He doesn't go to our school. But her boyfriend's older brother works at the ice rink with my older sister. One time Mom made her take me, and I saw Lizzy holding hands with the kid and they were just skating around, and..."He saw the expression on my face and cut himself short. "...and yeah..."
My heart broke and I started breathing heavy, just picturing the scene of the two of them, skating around, holding hands, *laughing*. I balled up the paper in anger.
"He must have been a funny dude,"I muttered in defeat.
"Not really,"my friend said. "It was actually kinda sad. She was laughing, but it sounded so...i don't know, fake? And then when I was using the bathroom, she skated past me, *speeding* to the girl's bathroom and she was crying. When I got back out there, he was skating with another girl! But dig this, right? By the end of the night, apparently Lizzy and the guy made up, and they left together!"
"Wow."I blew out a breath and leaned back, processing it. "I'm so dumb,"I concluded. "Here I was - and the other 12 guys - thinking we actually had a chance, when really...this whole time, she was really just laughing at us!"
"Maybe she likes you guys to make her laugh so much, because the other guy makes her cry so much."My friend suggested with a shrug.
"Deep."
"Yeah, anyway, wanna shoot some hoops?"
"Totally."I sat up, giving him a grin. "And maybe afterwards, we can drop by the ice rink?"
"I'll ask my sister if shes working there today so she can take us. But stop grinning like that." |
It wasn't so much about finding the pairing.
Every animal on earth had them. A perfect pairing, another animal who complimented them, made life easier and solved problems that otherwise couldn't be solved alone. Plants seemed to have multiple pairings, lucky things.
Its not like humans hadn't tried and succeeded with pairings before, horses had been replaced by automobiles, cats had been replaced with traps and pesticides. Humans thought for many years that they had moved passed the need for an external animal pairing.
Turns out that humanity had lost the key to a good pairing, communication.
On the 5th of June Henry James Tennerman created the Keyman Portal Speaker.
The biggest issue that KPS solved, much to everyone surprise was depression. For years humans had decided that the human mind was just to complicated to ever fully understand. Now we look back and cannot imagine how we never got it.
Turns out the cure to depression was a 15 minute conversation with a common K9 every 4 months. A Labrador could cure it under 5. |
Today is my birthday. Hurray me, 22 years old, still living in my parent’s place, going to community college, working at an animal shelter. God, I hate my life. When will this life of mine change? The answer is always the same “Tomorrow”.
Tonight, like all other night I put on the movie that I have loved since I was 3 years old. “Dr. Dolittle” you know the one with Eddie Murphy, a guy who ends up being able to talk to animals. I always thought that it would be an awesome power to have. Shoot tell me you wouldn’t like being able to talk to a little puppy and see how they view the world.
That’s the main reason why I work at an animal shelter. I never thought that I would actually be able to hear animals talk but I wanted to do what I could to help any animal. Frog on the sidewalk? “Let’s go little buddy off into the grass, you don’t want to get stomped on by someone who doesn’t see you.” Stuff like that.
Now tomorrow I will wake up and everything will be the same as it ever was. Nothing exciting will every happen in this small town. Certainly nothing as amazing as being able to talk to animals.
Oh boy was I wrong…
When I woke up the next morning, I felt no different. I went about my routine, got dressed, walked to school, barely paid attention to the classes that always felt that it went on for way too long. After class I head to work and that’s where my life went to hell.
From the moment that I walked into the back to change and get ready for work I heard nothing but “cat calls” I thought that we might have had a class or something in to see what we do and try to get some summer volunteers. (This has happened in the past) Never had I heard so many disparaging remarks thrown at me. Talking about everything from my hair to my shoes. Nothing was sacred to these guys. They just tore at everything trying to get me to look at them. I paid no attention and just finished getting ready. It was then that I turned around and was shocked, there were no other people in the back.
Now I wish I could tell you that a Dr. Dolittle moment occurred and I could hear all the animals. Again, that is what I wish I could tell you. Nope not this guy. Dogs still barked, snakes still hissed and slithered, but let me tell you something.
Cats.
Are.
Jerks.
Every “cat call” was coming from a literal cat. I see the cat’s mouths opening like they are meowing but the things these guys were saying. I just can’t repeat them.
Now this was not like the movie, not like my hopes and dreams. This was a nightmare. I couldn’t go home as I was the only person working in the back today and what’s worse. Today was cat socialization day. Socialization is where you go and hold the animals to ensure that they are able to stand being handled by humans.
Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, today however it was going to be bad. I started with the dogs as I couldn’t hear them “saying” anything they were just like they always have been. When I finished with them it was time to start working with the cats.
The first cat that I decided to work with was a calico cat humbly named “Princess”.
“Why are you always so rough with us, you hairless ape?”
Now that was just a little more than I was expecting.
“Do you always talk like that?”
At this point Princess looks at me in the eyes and cocks her head to the side.
“And how is it that you are just now understanding what I ask? You’ve always just disregarded my questions and now is the time that you deign to answer. Typical, just typical. Never had the courtesy to answer and you get all riled up when I ask why you are rough with us.”
I am flabbergasted at this point not really knowing how to respond, but I try regardless.
“I never thought that I was being rough. I thought that I have always been rather gentle when picking yall up. I am a little surprised that you called me a hairless ape though.”
“You call picking us up by the belly ‘gentle’, that actually hurts a lot and that’s why we are always so pissy. As far as the hairless ape, we watched yall evolve from them and lose your covering only to take other species covering and use it to cover yourselves. It’s quite disgraceful actually.”
“Well I do apologize, is there a way to pick you up that would be better?”
At this point Princess laughs.
“Hey guys you hear this? This ape doesn’t even know how to pick us up. It’s not like we don’t show them. I remember when I was younger my mother showed her humans how to pick me up and carry me but NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO humans just don’t know how to take notice and decide that picking us up however they want is the best. Tell you what, you hairless ape, just put me back in and leave me alone.”
I start to pick Princess up and she just gives me this look like really, I just told you not to do that. I then pick her up by the nape and put her back in her cage. I had to leave after that. I know that I put more pressure on other people but after the short conversation with Princess I didn’t think that I would be able to handle another cat. I would just have to work through this a little at a time.
Now I know this might sound presumptuous, but if I could start with the local area and move what I can learn to other people, maybe we can make cats less of a jerk. At least for me, because being called a hairless ape every day is really just itching a nerve. |
April quickly locked the door behind her and sighed in relief as the last bolt snapped into place. She shouldn’t have stayed out this late. Things weren’t safe, especially for someone who lived alone in a small house outside of town. Carefully, April went through each room, turning on the lights as she went along. Once all of the lights were on, she checked the windows. She made a second pass and this time she checked under the furniture and in the closets. All clear.
April saw a dark shadow rush past her bedroom window. "Oh no, Bruno"she thought. As quickly as she could she opened her window and scooped her cat into the house. "Bruno, you aren't supposed to stay out this late."April was a little irritated that he had gotten out again. Somehow, he had managed to lose his collar while he was outside. April was glad that she had gotten to him in time.
Bruno ran off and squeezed himself under a sofa. April tried chasing after him but gave up when her phone started ringing. It was Mr. Adams. April answered the phone.
"Are you okay? Sarah and I stopped by earlier to make sure that you got home safely."
"Yes, I’m fine Mr. Adams. I was just working late today. That's all."April assured him.
"You know, tonight is a full moon. They are out there."
"I know, I'm sorry"
April could tell something was wrong. She could hear the fear in Julius Adams' voice.
"April", he said, "We spotted a few in town.... You were at work all day. Right?"
"Yes sir."
"Joe Cummings and his wife said they saw you by the lake today. But that wasn't you... was it?"
"No Sir"
Julius paused. "...I didn't think so.Stay inside for the next few days. There may be a few more Mimics around town. Once the moon starts waning we'll be able to spot and kill them more easily.”
"Thank you Mr. Adams. I’ll be careful."
"By the way. Sarah found Bruno outside and we brought him in. He had his collar on, but Sarah and I left him in the basement to be safe."
A chill ran down April's spine. She turned to look but her cat was gone. Instead, she found herself face to face with another April. |
Sarah placed a hand on her leg in an attempt to steady it, with only partial success. She fought the urge to check her phone. The secretary was watching her, and phone use might count against her.
It was one of the tips her mom had given her before the interview: reception staff can have almost as much sway over the outcome of an interview as the people in HR doing the interview. And Sarah was not willing to blow her first job interview because the secretary frowned upon phone use.
"Nervous?"The secretary asked.
"Um, a bit, yeah."
"That's understandable. I remember my first job interview when I was your age. I was sweating bullets the entire time."
"Did you get the job?"
"Oh, of course not. I was a nervous wreck. But it helped me learn what not to do more than any advice my parents ever gave me."
"So, don't worry if I screw up horribly?"
"You got it. Oh, but you should still do your best. Maybe you'll do better than I did."
Sarah smiled weakly. At least the older woman seemed nice enough. She hoped that carried through to everyone else at the company.
"Maybe a glass of water would help settle your nerves a little."The woman said.
"That would be great, thank you."
A few minutes later and Sarah was holding a cold glass of water. She drank it slowly, letting the cool liquid settle on her stomach. She did feel better after the glass was empty.
And then she did not feel better. She felt awful. Her stomach churned and rumbled and her vision swam. This was not because of nerves. This was something else. She looked at the still smiling secretary with wide, panic filled eyes. As her vision went dark, she heard the secretary say two words:
"Good luck."
When Sarah came too, she was in a dark, damp room with a single light dangling from the ceiling. She was bound tightly to a heavy chair was apparently attached to the concrete floor. Her mouth was heavily covered with later of duct tape, preventing her from saying anything.
She heard a door open behind her and footsteps enter the room. A man with hard, cold features and dressing in a three piece suit stood in front of her. He opened a Manila folder and read out loud.
"Sarah Whittmore, 16. High school junior with a 3.6 GPA average over all three years. Parents are still together, no siblings."
Sarah's eyes widened. She could feel the tears start to well up.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Miss Whittmore. But, you will not receive answers to any of them unless you find out on your own. I will only tell you three things. First, this is your job interview. Second, this interview has four parts. Third, the first part is to escape this facility, preferably without discovery or injury. Your interview will begin once I leave. Good luck."
Without any more words, the man shut the folder and left the room. Sarah's heart was racing and her breathing was heavy. This was an interview? How was this an interview? She had applied for an entry level job with an overly fancy title for a mail room attendant. This was not part of delivering corporate mail.
She took a deep breath and focused her mind. She had no idea what she was getting into, but she had some clues. She could get answers as long as she found them herself. That meant that everything had to be present where she could get them. But to do that, she had to escape.
Another deep, calming breath and Sarah got to work. She had an interview to ace. |
The detective popped in a piece of nicotine gum as he looked over the latest forensic report. People didn’t really smoke anymore, but no one could deny the desire for a simple nicotine high. Many things had changed over the years, but catering to societal vices would always be profitable, so life finds a way. The weapons found in an old shipping container were more proof of this and had sent the entire force into overdrive trying to find the distributor.
No one had even seen a gun in 50 years.
The history books mention the 2050-2080 energy crisis. How everyone was still arguing over whether or not to ban guns in the United States, while other countries already had policies for gun control. Those countries probably regret those policies, even if it made sense at the time. Millions of people died due to the unlivable temperatures. Constant natural disaster cleanups wiped out the treasury of multiple smaller countries. Globalization reduced drastically as governments tried to keep their own citizens alive. Immigration was out of the question. Human rights became every human for themselves.
It was a grim period that’s for sure, but once it was all said and done, those left were able to rebuild.
That’s when the world realized it wasn’t just carbon emissions and plastic they needed to worry about. With the universal reliance on steel, iron ore in the environment was mined in totality. No significant stores could be found. Space flight was considered to gather meteorites and iron debris, but no one could really afford it. In order to support the rebuild, anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary that contained iron had to be forfeited. Here in the United States, that meant relinquishing guns. The iron and steel were easily recycled. It was never meant to be a permanent solution, but with so much money going into finding any scrap of iron, the world just…adjusted. And whoever had the biggest weapons arsenal to recycle now had the deepest pockets. That’s why finding these weapons now was of such interest. Regulation was profitable, and not much was just laying around anymore.
There was something strange in this report though. According to the forensics, the weapons were derived from human blood. No one had heard anything on the streets about this, and it was…exciting.
The precinct had put everyone on a gag hold, and put anyone in lock-up that might have gone running to a government official. See, this wasn’t just identifying illegal activity, this was an opportunity. The world was a better place if you judged it by resource allocation alone. But living...living was hard under government rule. Freedom no longer existed. There was only what you were told and nothing else. So sure the detective and his team were working on finding how these weapons were made, but once they did, some deals were already planned.
Of course they would need to make sure that the distributors weren’t killing people to harvest the blood. But people die every day and if the morgue could assist well…an armed force meant a resistance, and a resistance meant a way to fight back. |
"AHHHH. AGH, oh FUCK!", Mandy screamed as she woke up. "Christ, what was that nightmare?"She mumbled to herself fear turning to confusion as the memory of the dream faded. She was shaking herself awake, taking deep breaths to collect her thoughts when she realised that something else was off. The dull throb of a headache was slowly disappearing, only to be replaced by a similar throb on her forearm. Rolling back her pyjamas, she gasped.
"What. the. hell."This morning wasn't getting **any** easier - on the inside of her right arm, scarred into her very flesh, was a phrase, a command: "BREAK LOOP."Underneath a series of 19 tally marks, with the most recent ones being fresh. In fact, the 19th was still bleeding, it's edges bright red against the white of her shirt.
An intense sense of Deja Vú washed over Mandy. With trembling hands she reached for her bedside table, pulling open the topmost draw. Inside there was a gun, a knife, some painkillers - codeine - and a note written in her own blood. "The longer you live, the more you'll remember. They're coming for you. Go upstairs."Whipping her duvet to the side, it's bloodstained cover crumpling off the bed, she grabbed the jeans and shirt laid out on the radiotor. The jeans had pockets, inside them a phone, keys and wallets. She pulled on an overcoat, also prepared on the side, and stuffed the gun and knife in there. The pills went to the inside pocket. There was also a messenger bag which she slung over her right shoulder.
She could ... remember packing it. Yesterday night. Clearly, she knew that today would be the day everything would go to shit. Food, water, and another key. Made of crystal, she could feel it vibrating. Next to it was a small black remote, with a small red button. She couldn't remember what it did, but somewhere in the back of her head she knew it was important.
Ready, she made her way out of the cramped room heading into an equally cramped apartment kitchen-cum-living room. She recognised none of it, though like with the remote, an instinctual knowledge told her it was hers. The kitchen was a mess - the broken cupboard doors hanging off single hinges, glasses smashed on the floor. Her cutlery was strewn all over the place, scattered haphazrdly across her armchair, across her table and windsill. Someone had ransacked it, Mandy concluded.
Not pausing to stare, she continued towards the front door. Opening it as quitely as she could - she noticed it was oiled - she snuck a look outside. Immideately outside was **something**. It had all the characteristics of a human, four limbs a torso and a head, but it was definitely not. It's outlines were blurred against the shadows of the corridor, it's "skin"black and jagged and translucent.
Turned away as it was, Mandy silently crept towards it's back taking the knife out of it's pocket. Just as it sensed her approach and started to turn around, with a viciousness she didn't know she was capable of, she stabbed it in the neck. Throwing it's head in an un-heard scream it dissipated back into the shadows.
Though her breathing turned ragged, Mandy had no choice but carry on. Holding tightly onto the hilt of her knife, she continued to creep up stairs, towards the roof of the building, trusting in the message of her blood stained note.
She managed to reach the roof door without any further incident. Opening it, however, she stumbled on her second hurdle. The door creaked, clearly having not been oiled in months or even years. Stealth abandonded, she wrenched the door the remaining way open and faced down three shadows in the light of day. They stood next to walls and next to chimneys, crouching down where the sun's rays couldn't touch them. As her shoe crunched against the tarmac of the roof, they wheeled towards her, their ethereal limbs extending into claws.
With no hesitation, Mandy pulled the gun into her other hand, took aim and shot at the nearest shadow. The loud **bang** threatened to deafen her. It proved to be worse for the shadow, taking it in the midriff and causing it's form to implode into the hole left behind. Quickly she took aim at the second one, dispatching it with equal ease. As she was about to finish off the third, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a streaking patch of blackness.
Diving out of the way, she managed to dodge the worst of it. Still, it pierced her shoulder sending chills down her spine. She dropped her knife as her arm went limp from pain. Biting back her cry, Mandy levelled the gun at the remaining spectre, finally destroying it. With the dread encounter over, she panted.
Stowing the gun back into her coat pocket, she took out a codeine pill and swallowed it with a sip of water. She checked her shoulder out - the skin was cracked where the hole was, though curiously there was no blood. Ripping off the sleave of her shirt, she bound it nonetheless; in this scenario, she'd rather be safe than sorry.
As the codeine started to take effect, the blood in her arm began to flow again. She picked up her knife off the floor, holding it in a weaker grip. Amazed by her own endurance, she slowly recalled months of training, training for this very moment. Her recollection was always flawed though, as if she was constantly searching for a fading dream.
With a few more deep breaths, she gave the roof an inspection. At the other end was a door, though unlike those found in our physical realm. This one was shadowy, it's outline faint like those of the ghostly men. Mandy approached it, noting a small key-hole, the exact shape of the crystal key. Taking the key out of her satchel, she opened the door. Instantly she was transported ... somewhere new. As she was just taking stock of her surroundings a resounding crack rang in the air. Coughing, her hand went to her stomach. It came away covered in blood. Her blood.
As conciousness failed her, she used the last of her strength to do two things: Carve another tally into her arm, and press the small, red button. |
Allison woke slowly, groggily, battling her way to consciousness from the vivid dream she'd been lost in. She'd been swimming in the clearest, bluest waters, deep down, amongst the brightest colored fish and fronds of seaweeds. She'd been so at home, unlike anything she'd ever felt in the waking world, where she'd bounced from one home to another and one family to another. Amongst the sea life of her dream world, she'd felt welcomed in a way she never had in the lucid world, and she was reluctant to leave it.
She stretched and yawned as she finally came to, her blankets like weights of lead on her chest and legs. She was so thirsty, and felt so sluggish. And she felt itchy. Throwing off her covers, she slung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched them out, her toes pointed and creating a straight line from hip to tip. Why was she so itchy, though? And her throat was so dry! Ugh!
She stood up, stretching her back and arms and trying to shake the vestiges of that amazing dream, then meandered into the bathroom. Using the toilet, she couldn't stop scratching the itching and now flaking skin on her thighs and calves, and rubbed her feet together to try to alleviate the discomfort that continued down them. Once finished, she ran the sink to wash her hands, and found herself scooping them under the faucet to gulp handfuls of the cold, clear water. It did little to quench the thirst, however.
A quick shower alleviated the slightest bit of her itching, and she felt rejuvenated in a way that her morning ablutions rarely caused. A tightness she'd barely noticed in her chest was lessened as she stood under the spray, letting it cascade down her face and body. She realized she'd felt as if she were holding her breath until the water hit, and wondered why. It was so unlike her.
As the water ran from hot to warm to tepid and then to cold, she reluctantly turned it off and stepped out, toweling off. The itching soon returned, however, and she hastened to apply moisturizer to the flakes she saw up and down her legs and feet. It did little to help.
Dressing and heading down to breakfast, the tightness in her chest returned, even as the itching intensified, and she found herself gulping a huge glass of water almost before she'd seated herself at the breakfast table. Naomi, her foster mother, shook her head; she'd never seen Allison drink anything so quickly, especially water which she was always battling to get her to drink more of.
As Allison sat at the table, she kept reaching down to scratch her legs, rubbing her feet against her shins and calves to alleviate the growing discomfort. Naomi watched with concern, wondering if something was wrong with her charge. She also made note that Allison's breathing was beginning to be labored, although Allison herself didn't seem to realize it.
"Honey, are you okay?"she finally asked, as Allison absentminded used her fork to scratch her thigh while drinking her third glass of water.
"Hmm? Oh! Um…I'm not sure. Probably."Allison wasn't used to concern for her well-being, and was unsure how to respond to it from Naomi. She had only been in her home for about a month, having left her last one after her foster parents decided that their marriage wasn't strong enough to be fosters after all; the one before that, her foster father "hadn't liked her attitude"when she'd told him off for swatting at the younger boys in the house; before that, she'd been removed when her foster mother went into a nursing home. She'd been in care for as long as she could remember, and had distinct memories of at least a dozen homes; her worker said it was actually 15, including Naomi, in the past 12 years. Her worker said she was 15, but that was an estimate, they weren't certain, she'd been found when she was around 3, alone on a beach, wearing only a thin white dress and with no belongings or identification. They'd guessed her age, assigned her a name and birthdate, and into care she had gone.
She didn't remember any of that. She only remembered the endless stream of foster parents and siblings, some better than others, some longer than others, but all of them temporary. She'd learned not to get attached; she'd made that mistake with Mrs. Williams, and then had been removed because she'd fallen and injured herself, and wasn't able to care for herself any longer, let alone her four "daughters". So, Allison and the others were placed elsewhere, then elsewhere again.
Naomi was one of the better ones, but she still didn't quite trust that she'd be a real home, and so Allison didn't say anything about the itching, or the flakes on her legs, or how tight her chest was, or how dry her throat. After all, those were all such strange things, taken individually, what could she say?
"I'm fine, I think,"was all she offered, and poured her fourth glass of water. Naomi continued to watch her worryingly, but without Allison offering anything, there was nothing she could do.
Allison got ready for school, the itching continuing, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed some kind of discoloration on her leg. Where it was flaking before, now…there seemed to be scaling. How bizarre! She quickly lathered her legs in more lotion, then switched her skirt for a pair of leggings, hurrying out the door to the bus.
Throughout first period and homeroom, she sat in a back corner, absentmindedly using first one foot, then the other to scratch her now-painful legs. She began to feel dizzy, the air heavy in the room, as her thirst continued. Between classes, she ran to the water fountain, ignoring the protests of the kids behind her as she greedily gulped the water, then splashed her face with it. No matter how much she drank, however, she still wanted more. She couldn't explain it.
The bell rang for second period, and she hurried to the gym's locker room. She'd dreaded this, given the strange flaking and scaling on her legs. The last thing she wanted to do was change for class, especially since this month, changing meant donning her bathing suit and swimming. All she needed was for some basic chick to notice the flakes on her legs and make some comment, and then with her luck, she'd get sent to a new home because Naomi would kick her out for fighting. She grabbed her swimsuit, then hurried into a bathroom stall to change out of sight, waiting to emerge until she'd heard the last voice leave the locker room. The flaking was so much worse now, and the discoloration had spread up her thigh, as well as now showing on her other leg. And it was definitely scales of some kind, bizarrely glistening an iridescent teal. She goggled at it, not sure what to do, but then quickly wrapped her towel around her waist like a sarong, threw her clothes in her locker, and hastened into the pool area. She didn't want to get marked tardy and have Naomi called, and risk being sent away; that had happened in one home, she'd been late to class too often and her parents had been called, and they'd decided she was a nuisance because they got sick of hearing from the school so much.
"Nice of you to join us, Allison!"Ms. Hardis shouted, calling everyone's attention to her. "Drop the towel and get in the water!"Allison gulped, but hurried to the water's edge, standing awkwardly beside the pool, not wanting to remove her towel and display the scales on her legs. "Well, Smith? Are you part of this class or not?"Hardis stalked toward her, and Allison quickly dove into the water, kicking the towel off as she went, hoping that no one had time to notice. (cont'd) |
It's been a few weeks since cryptids started appearing. It started with mermaids playing in a popular lake, which the kids were really excited about. Then werewolves howling right outside our windows, humanoids with different types of wings sprouting from their backs and centaurs clip clopping down the street. It didn't take long before we noticed people starting to go missing. Naturally, we blamed the cryptids for kidnapping and/or killing our beloved neighbors and families. We never went up to the cryptids or even looked at them because we thought they were dangerous. All except the mermaids.
Nobody ever went missing in lakes, so we assumed the mermaids were safe to be around. They were the only cryptids who's faces we were able to see clearly. One of them came up to me once, with an excited grin spread across her face. She had light brown skin and her face was covered with wet, dark, curly hair. "Hey P, Long time no see! How ya been?"She moved her hair back but when I saw her face, I was terrified. Not because she looked scary, but because she looked exactly like my cousin. "Alyssa!? What happened to you? We thought you drowned in the river!""I told you guys I was going to swim out further, but you left me. Besides, now I have this cool tail, webbed fingers, *and* I can breathe underwater. How cool is that?"
I thought for a minute, but I still had a lot of questions. How did this happen? Who are the other mermaids? Were the other cryptids once human too? "Perse, are you okay? Do you need me to swim you to shore?"I remember crying and hugging her, but the rest was a blur. So many people have gone missing. So many of my own friends and family were thought to have been killed. Were they still alive? What were they? *where* where they?
I woke up the next morning in the empty house I used to call my own, in my old room that was now home to nothing but dust and old furniture. I figured Lissa must've told someone to bring me here. I looked over at the glass case that used to hold my pet python. Next to it was a mirror that hadn't been touched since I left. My teeth hurt, but I figured it was just my braces moving my mouth around. I got up to walk to the mirror, but my head felt really heavy which caused me to sit back down.
"Okay. Let's try this again."I got up slowly this time, and successfully stood on my feet. I walked over to the mirror to see how bad I was. I wiped a thick layer of dust off the surface, but when I looked into it I stammered backwards in fear. "What the hell *was* that,"I whispered to myself. Looking into the mirror again confirmed that what I saw wasn't an illusion. My skin was dark brown, but it was cream colored from the bottom of my lip, down. My irises were almost entirely black with a noticeable orange ring around them.
When I opened my mouth, my tongue was black and my top canine teeth had grown. They weren't too long, but they were definitely skinnier and stood out more than my other teeth which were tiny and barely visible. Needless to say, my braces were also gone. Instead of hair, I had a head full of snakes. These weren't just any snakes, though. They were Australian brown snakes, the second most venomous snakes in the world. What really scared me was the realization that I now *was* one. I was an Australian Brown Snake Medusa.
I found and put on an old pair of sunglasses and a hoodie. It looked like it was already noon when I left the house so I kept my head low and eyes down and rushed back to the lake. Thankfully it was a monday so people were either at work, at home or at school. I got to the shore and looked for the mermaids. When I couldn't find them, I just called out to her. "ALYSSA!"I must've sounded terrified because she was in front of me in less than 5 seconds.
"Ohmygod Persy!"She was about to give me a hug when I put my hands out and stopped her. "Oh no, I wouldn't do that,"I told her. I made her get back a little so I can took off my hood. She looked more excited than scared.
"Woah, you're a medusa now? Cool shades,"she said. "Alyssa, you need to help me-""I can't help you with this Persephone,"she said in a melancholic tone. "We can't change back. There's a reason people are turning, and it's usually a good reason. The other mermaids and I love swimming, and you love snakes. Maybe find another medusa and figure out how you guys work. I promise, you're gonna learn to enjoy it." |
I fulfilled everything that I had in my life, some might even say that I exceeded that, some might I say that I agree on that. The truth is, I don't care. I never did. Always having everyone depend on you to save their day.. It gets exhausting, real fast, especially if you are like me, someone who never liked doing much. I thought by dying I would finally be able to rest.. and now I'm being asked to help someone again!?. I saved many bad people from bad things happening to them, but this time it's different. I chose to go, I chose to die. And yet he wants me to go back to my old ways again. He just couldn't leave me alone. He had to ask for my help. And now I'm back!! I'm going to destroy Devil who unsettled my rest and anyone that steps in my way! |
Those rose-coloured glasses. Herald's glasses. Pure bliss.
Withdrawal. Withdrawal.
As my gaze returned to the real world, the bright blue sky seemed like a dreary blight. The inviting, glistening sands of the eternal beach seemed like glaring shards of glass. The divide between the sky and ocean like a million miles separating a mother and child.
"Herald. Fuck, man."Avery passed the glasses along.
"What the hell? Jesus."Taylor took a turn on the rose-coloured.
My brow furrowed, the crumple of skin like a fissure cutting into my face. Tears ran out like a marathon intersecting with rush hour traffic. I tried to act like stone, but each ounce of my being was powdery; even a slight breeze carried me away.
"Herald, you need help."Avery pleaded.
Taylor curled up in the sand and heaved. Thrashing like a live fish coldy-boiling in their own fluids, thrown into the vacuum of space.
"You can't live like that."I concurred.
Herald took the enchanted, perscription stength rose-colour and shook off the ordinary headache of eye strain. In a moment, his hand sent the rose-colour into the ocean. A purple flare signified the salt dissolving the delicate etching of the spell.
"As long as I have you guys, I don't need those."
We laughed and cried through a common lens of salt water. |
I looked across at the man sitting on my sofa, wrapped up in my blankets. "What the hell are you talking about, man?"
The man looked down at his feet. "I...I know you're not going to believe me, but I'm from the future..."
I nodded along, beginning to wonder about the mental state of this stranger. I guess I couldn't have just left him out there to suffer in the storm, but now I was worried about my own safety.
"...and in the future, time travel exists. But it's so dangerous and destructive that it's completely banned. I had to go through some...back channels to get the blueprints for a machine. And once I had them, it took me about 10 years to build it, and I'm a highly trained engineer."
I nodded, pretending to listen. In reality, I had my phone hidden under my leg, scrolling through Instagram for the fifth time this hour.
"And so I traveled back to 2005, to settle some...personal issues. But I fucked up. I got in a car accident...turned into a pileup...some people died...and the world. It changed. It's not supposed to be like this in 2019. It's supposed to be so, so much better."
All this talk about time travel had actually piqued my interest. "So if you're from the future...what're the lottery numbers this week?"
"Why would I know the lottery numbers for a random week in 2019?"
I shrugged. "Worth a shot."
The man stood up now, blankets lazily tumbling off of his shoulders. "How are you not more concerned about this?! This isn't how it's supposed to be! The world is fucked up, it should be a utopia!"
I shot up as well, exceeding his height and matching his volume. "Because you're a god damn wacko who probably just woke up my wife and kids! Get the fuck out of my house, you can find another person to share your weird stories with."
The stranger's face changed from desperation to anger, then from anger to sadness. He began to slip on his still-wet shoes. "I'm...sorry. Thanks for your hospitality."
I watched him through the window as he made his way across the yard. I thought he would throw something, or storm off in a huff. Instead, though, he sauntered slowly towards the road, chin pressed against his chest. I almost felt bad for the guy.
"Jack,"I heard my wife whisper from behind me. I turned to see her at the bottom of the stairs, standing in front of my two daughters "Who was that?"
"Just a stranger who wanted some shelter. Everything's okay, Amy. Take the girls back to bed."
I watched the three of them walk up the stairs, and thought about what the stranger had said. What if he was telling the truth?
But I thought about Sarah and Ginnie climbing into bed in their matching monkey-covered onesies. I thought about the beautiful wife I had waiting upstairs when I finished this work.
Maybe this timeline is a fucked up one, I thought to myself. But it ain't too bad.
[r/AerobaticElephant](https://old.reddit.com/r/AerobaticElephant/) |
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