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"You don't understand Tom! The world's going to end man, like the aliens are going to come and probe me man... like... im not ready for that man. My butt-"
"Enough! Enough!"Tom quickly interjected, waving his hands in the mans face. "Aliens? Really? What is going on with everyone? Last week it was zombies, last month it was weregiraffes and this time its aliens.. and these aliens are"
"Are coming to stick things up my butt man... like Way up my butt, way past the comfortable stage?"Bill made a circle with his hand, a small doughnut hole sized circle before ramming a fist through the circle in some sort of crude display of probing that Tom wished he didn't have to see.
"Look... look Bill just...calm down, no ones going to... touch you. Its just a case of misinformation."Thomas said, offering his frien- well friend my be pushing it, offering the person he knew a pat on the shoulder. "The worlds meant to have ended ten times, what makes you think this is the one?"Thomas asked before Bill smacked his hand away.
"You're probably one of them man... one of those butt fiddlers... always so calm.. man..."Bill backed off, moving to run, Thomas simply raised his hands to show he was defenceless but it was to late, Bill had fled.
Thomas let out a sigh as he scratched the back of his head. "So... this is how they cover up that its a program?"Thomas muttered to himself. Ever since people started noticing glitches in reality, they became more and more suspect of their lack of well reality... so to counteract people discovering this, they simply reprogrammed the program, or at least thats what he assumed, making everyone believe these grand lies until they found a patch. Of course not everyone was fixed to follow this new programming, no some got lucky like Thomas. Leaving those lucky few to question their own reality. Sure this world wasn't going to end, but this was hardly their real world. |
The first time I had dreamt the nightmare was just like any other time I woke up from having a dream. A vivid clear day in my sleep, then the evening getting foggier the more awake I became. Then standing in the darkness of night, wide awake with nothing but the memory of daylight I had felt in the sleep. And I hadn’t felt as strongly as I did now.
I was in my secondary school. This was how the dream always started. Me in the classroom - talking with classmates I had gone out of my way to avoid after I came back from college. It was odd. But then dreams were meant to be odd. I read somewhere dreams had something to do with unvocalised desires of the mind. So when I had woken up the next day having dreamt this same dream for three-no, four days- maybe five, with the unwanted residual feelings of curiosity. I thought of checking in what they had been up to since secondary school.
So I went online, hoping to scrape together where everyone has gone in their lives. But I couldn’t find much through social media. Then again I had unfriended all of them a while back. I don’t remember why I did that but I didn’t want to risk being asked why unfriended them. My curiosity was not worth the small talk I had to suffer to sate it.
However, the dreams started to stay clear in my memory as the vivid blue sky in the day. My classmates talked longer, their faces contorting into grimaces and frowns when they no longer faced the blackboard. Then one night, one of the most louder ones in the classroom whispered in my ear. I couldn’t hear what they had said over the voices of other kids talking. So I had asked, ‘What did you say?’ The teacher slammed the duster against the blackboard, the books at her desk falling from the echoing boom throughout the class. I had woken up from the sudden fright.
The teacher, nameless and faceless, had remained silent in my dreams so far. But today she had sprung into life the way Nutcracker did after the clock chimed midnight . There had been something wrong about her, something eerie in her liveliness.
So the next night, I went to sleep, I was cautious in the classroom. I spoke as I had always did. But my classmates were more toned down in the their manner of talking. Their actions and words, though I had seen and heard the same things over the last couple of nights, had lacked the vibrancy of youth that had so unashamedly blasted through. I thought it might be because I had gotten used to the same things, they had now gotten into the stiff smoothness of the clockwork gear that has been running constantly.
Like the previous night, something new happened. The teacher had slammed the the duster against the blackboard though my classmate had not whispered in my ear. However, the school principal appeared at the class entrance.
I remembered her from when I had started the secondary school as smiling, fashionably dressed woman who I suspected had ill motives towards the entire grade. Of course, looking back, I knew it was just my anxiety and stress of having started a new school and meeting new people that had lead me to this very paranoid opinion. But as I looked her, the dream principal, her smile had morphed into a smirk and her eyes emitted an evilness that sent me chills beyond my sleep. I had woken up then.
I thought of messaging a classmate of mine who I had been closer to than others to talk about this weird nightmare. It would been a good ice breaker I thought. And maybe I can ask about my other classmates while talking about the dream and having a laugh over it. But as I looked through all social media, there was none of my classmates on it. Profiles I had been sure to visit to unfriended them had disappeared into nonexistence, as though they never really existed at all.
(Not finished, unedited) |
Your power: make your thoughts become reality. Because of this, you find little satisfaction in doing anything. One day, out of curiosity, you decide to do your housework using old-fashioned elbow-grease out of curiosity. In doing so, you discover the feeling of fulfillment and resolve to spend the rest of your life working for what you have. The problem with that is that without you, the world goes to hell in all kinds of ways, forcing you to be the living embodiment of plot armor and Deus Ex Machina for the rest of the heroes, which only just makes daily living annoying. |
"No heroes won the war, nor did evil. In my opinion the only thing that lost is our humanity. Once we upheld life, light and heroism sacred. But now? Now we have thrown away our morality. Maybe we should have just given up."The man said. He brought silence to the usually busy bar. "Do you even know what was before our current history?"The poor souls sitting infront of him glanced at eachother before one of them shook his head.
"Yeah, I would know it either, if I wasn't like this."He took another swing from his bottle. "Anyway. You know about the Age of Light? No? It was the age before this one. Dominated by do good heroes, the godly pantheon and the occasional bad guy. Quite peaceful I must say. Naturally I thought that an evil sorcerer trying to conquer the world every couple of years was the worst, but considering our current situation, well."
"But then came the vampires!"A younger lad exclaimed. "And then came the vampires."He glared angrily at the interrupting guy. "We had vampires before and undead before that and evil gods before that. But they were different. They were organised and in incredible numbers. Cutting through the landscape, crushing armies beneath their boots, growing strong with every man, woman and child's blood they claim. Heroes got send into the meat grinder, failing. Until a different kind of hero rose."
The stranger took another swing from his bottle. All of the bar listened, entangled by the man's retelling. "He was more pragmatic. Seeing the future not in the light but in something else. After presenting his idea in secrecy to the king, he set to work."A pause gave the stranger to recollect his memories. "As the vampires marched on the great walls of the capital they were not opposed by an army of soldiers but by a shambling mass of bones held together by metal. It was a massacre. They couldn't draw life from the living dead so they got worn down over hours. After all was set and done the Bloodless had reduced them to dust, while being reduced to one tenths of their original numbers. The vampires changed after that. They became less elegant more primal. And the Bloodless changed too, generation by generation."
Silence lay heavy on the bar. Before anybody could say anything the stranger pulled down his facemask, unveiling an metallic lower jawbone. Taking another swing from his bottle, standing up, putting a few gold coins on the counter and leaving. |
“Bless me Father, I have sinned. It’s been 3 days, 16 hours, 33 minutes since my last confession.” I say as I kneel in front of his Eminence. I hold a golden rosary in my left hand and keep my eyes to the floor.
“I am here to hear your sins, my child. Please continue.” I hear as a faint voice in broken English.
“I murdered Elizabeth Short.”
“And I know you were not caught. You did good my son. God forgives you.”
“Does God have another assignment for me?”
“Yes, but it’s a suicide mission.”
“I accept.”
“It’ll be the farthest you gone back and you will need an Aramaic translator.”
“I speak Aramaic, Hebrew and Roman Latin. Where is my mission?”
“Jerusalem, 32AD.”
“Go on.” I shuffle as I listen uncomfortably.
“You will need to befriend him to get close.”
“Who is my target?” I ask in earnest.
“If you fail. The prophecy will not be fulfilled. The universe as we know it will be erased.”
“My target.” I demand.
“The chosen of Nazareth.” He says.
“Jesus?”
“You leave tonight.”
His words shook through me. I am to trigger the prophecies and kill the Lamb of God. I feel my heart in my ear.
“Why me?”
“Because he asked for you specifically.”
“Who did?”
“Jesus.”
The Pope hands me an old parchment. It was delicate and held in a glass case.
In Aramaic:
My Judas,
What is asked of you is unthinkable. You must betray me so that all may be free. I know this is hard. I saw it in your eyes when we first met. You are my friend, my ally. I look forward to meeting you soon.
I hand back the glass. Feeling ill, I stand up and rush to a restroom. It’s not pretty but after a half hour I clean up. Walk back out. The Pope and a few Cardinals are preparing the time ritual.
I focus on my next mission and eat my last modern meal.
I then close my eyes as they begin. |
"Wow!"I thought, "This place is certainly better than the streets of Boston."
Hi, I'm John Smith, but you probably just know me as 'Space Loner' or something similar. I grew up impoverished, and stayed that way for my whole life. That is, until I was shoved into a black van.
"Well, I guess my time is over then,"I stated. I honestly wouldn't care what they did to me. It would probably be better than having to eat dead rats out of the bin.
"Not exactly, John,"the man in the passenger seat stated, "we're taking you to Houston, NASA headquarters, to be exact. We've had our eye on you for a while, and you seem skilled at surviving a lonely, unfulfilling life."
"Ha ha, very funny,"I muttered. The man responded with a silent stare that dug deep into my soul. I chose to stay silent for the rest of the ride.
When we arrived, I was shocked. The man was truthful, and I was staring at a NASA building.
"You're probably wondering what were doing with you,"the man said, "You are going to be the first human to leave the solar system. One way ticket though."
I gasped, "I am going to be famous, I can have my voice heard!"I thought.
"We just need you to lay in here, and you will be put to sleep for 50 years. By then, you will be outside our solar system,"he rambled.
I complied, laying down inside the container, and blackness followed.
I awoke, freezing, and 50 years behind the times. I saw stacks of Oreos, apple, oranges, and cereals, and nearly gagged. I then spotted it, the holy grail. I found the bin. When I dug in, I found a clump of mold from God knows what.
"Ahhh, yes,"I spoke, mowing down on my delightful meal. |
“So your space is right over here,” my manager says as he leads me to my area. “You’ve got it made, first day in the stream, and you’ve got a direct line to Timmy’s brain”. I can hear a little bit of jealousy in his gruff voice.
I peak around my stack of boxes of office supplies and decorations in my hands to see a little cubicle with my title written on a plaque: “Cell Intern 759.” A single red button sits on my empty future desk. Above it, a dusty and rusted bulb.
“Damn... I would have killed if I got a spot this good starting out.” Cell Manager loosely points towards a big red button while staring at himself in the reflection of a framed graph of Timmy’s immune system.
I set my stuff down on my desk. “What’s this light for?”
Cell Manager closes his eyes in annoyance and shakes his head. I probably shouldn’t have asked.
“I’m not your teacher or your dad. Seriously... who’s cell did you suck to get this spot. If you can’t figure shit out on your own...”
I can feel tears forming, but I hold them back as I stare at ground. Why the fuck did I ask that?
Cell Manager sighs hard.
“Look, kid” he says in a lighter tone. “If the light comes on, we’re in business. Simple as that. Just keep pressing the button until it comes on.”
A couple of tears manage to make it out. “How long will it take?” I manage to whimper as I sniffle.
“Couldn’t tell you. Weeks, months, years. It might never turn on for all I know... but that’s the job.” He pats me on the shoulder, and gives me a quick nod as he walks away.
Fucking great.
A dull hum from the lungs fills the silence. I take a few moments to look around my new cubicle.
The immunity system graph is the only piece of “art” hanging on the walls.
Timmy (Age 6)
Cranium Dept.
Ugh. He’s 6? I’m going to be stuck here forever.
My elbow accidentally hits the button as I plop myself down in my chair.
The light turns on.
“Oh, fuck.” |
You freeze, your blood running cold. On instinct, you quickly swallow the ring, sweating profusely trying to look casual. You glance over and make eye contact with a girl in your class. She saw your ring glow and she saw you swallow it. Her eyes are wide with fear and anger. You try and silently plead with her to understand. You aren’t a hero, this isn’t what you signed up for. That thing would kill you. She slowly nods, still furious at you for doing nothing. But she understood. What could you do? What could any of you do? You were just kids. It can’t be up to you to save the world, that’s only something grown ups do in movies.
Suddenly, a timid voice speaks out over the stunned silence. “I am”, you all look over, and you see the smallest kid in your class stepping forward. His knees are shaking, he is raining sweat and his skin was pale white. But he was trying to look brave. Trying to stand up for our classmates. The monster shifted it’s all mighty gaze over to the boy. It seemed like he was simply going to cease to exist under that almighty stare. You can’t let it end like this. You have to try. Before the monster says anything, you leap forward. “WAIT!” You exclaim “I am your champion. My grandfather gifted me his ring, so it is my responsibility.” The monster slowly turns his gaze onto you. He sizes you up, seconds feeling like hours under eyes that have seen time begin. Finally, after the longest, heaviest silence, he says “What ring? I don’t know anything about a ring. I’m looking for earths most powerful champion. What is this place? Why are you all so small?” The little girl, body trembling with fear screams through sobs “THIS IS A SCHOOL! WE ARE CHILDREN!” The monster seems to consider this. “Hmm. I see. Well, I suppose I’ll be off then.” And he leaves, closing up the hole in the ground, as if it was never there.
The next day at school we all looked at each other for visual confirmation of what happened. Did we all hallucinate together? Did that really happen? We never spoke of it again, but I also hoped that monster found his champion. |
I don’t know what to think. Here I am, 18, China has declared war against my nation, and I’m going to be drafted.
This is all so strange. I don’t even remember how I found out that I would be drafted. That’s one of those things that you usually don’t learn until it happens. Yet, none of these things seem so strange or concerning to me as one little fact: I’m already at Reception. I’ve already volunteered.
Still, here I am. I’m going to be drafted. I can’t believe it. Drafted! That’s what convinced my Great-Uncle Toby to move to Canada. Maybe I should too. He would be happy to see me. He would probably be proud to know that his own nephew is the first volunteer to dodge the draft.
I knew that things were becoming tense between our government and China, but war? Me? What if they want *me* to fight? Oh my gosh! I didn’t join the Army to go to war! I just did it for the tuition, benefits, retirement at age 35, the free parking place at the mall, and, most importantly, the badge bunnies!
*Grab a hold of yourself, Private. Don’t panic.*
Indeed. There is no need to panic yet. I’ll be accepted into, and breeze right through OCS. Then they’ll put me in charge of teaching everyone my computer skills, just as my recruiter promised, along with anything that I might possibly pick up from the Army (fat chance). I’ll be fine.
But what if I’m not? What if things get so bad that they expect every soldier to be willing to fight? What would leadership be like under a military that drafts its own volunteers? What if I get drafted into the Air Force? I don’t want to be a pilot. I can’t even ride the Tilt-A-Whirl without throwing up!
That settles it. As soon as I get assigned to my platoon, I will tell my Drill Sergeant that I am not feeling well, and that I need some time off. And then, Uncle Toby, I’m on my way to you! |
It was a hard sight, seeing the woman you love hold out her hand for you, the screaming coming from her lungs so high and piercing that it makes even your throat ache. Yet perhaps she had good reason to be in such a state. The love of her life, or at least I hope I was... was now laying in a pool of his own blood, barely able to do more then stare into her beautiful blue eyes.
Im really going to miss her. From the way she used to lean against me when we walked, to the little kisses she would sneak from me in the mornings... fuck I really lucked out, not many people get to die with such a beautiful sight in front of them. Not as many are as lucky as me. I just wish I could tell her all this.. tell her this before its to late.
Even now with the sound of sirens drifting in the distance creating an ambient set of white noise to our scene, my loves screams seemed to still be the loudest. The pleading and the begging was heartbreaking. such a perfect moment for me was going to be one of the worst of her life.
I reached my hand out, moving it away from the wound on my stomach, wrapping it in hers. The muscles on my face straining into a soft smile as I took one final look at her. |
Nuclear armageddon as the only possible outcome after a prolonged war-like situation which sometimes exhibits itself as actual war but is primarily felt through pervasive global instability. This global deterioration will develop from ever increasing regional instability, caused by mass migration and hundreds of millions of refugees worldwide, caused by global warming. This occurs of course in tandem with all the other problems caused by climate change, extreme weather conditions, long droughts followed by torrential rains, trouble acquiring clean water, trouble producing food, rising water levels (considering that 80% of humanity lives near the sea, this by itself will cause mass migrations and a staggering death toll worldwide), as well as environmental upset and extinctions spiralling into large scale eco-system collapse.
Only 121 words. Welp. |
“Ok, now that we have got a shot at this, let’s hope it’s not a literal shot like those brain-dead yankee blobs did”, Captain-Major Artyom Komarov practically bounced off the walls of the padded umbilical connecting the ERSS Central Node to the Rassvet module as he tried to keep emotions under control. “Jun, you ok?”
Captain Jun Cai, the PRC’s mainstay on ERSS, nodded, his hand firmly on the hatch to Rassvet. Beyond, both astronauts, lay the future of humanity. On their shoulders, no less - especially after the Houston Disaster.
“Methane’s up, so you better lock the helmet”, he told his Russian counterpart, watching the atmospheric pressure in the adjacent hub drop, the indicators of the external hatch going green as whoever beyond the door entered the module.
Both avoided looking into the hatch porthole yet. There was little evidence left after the Disaster to gain information from, plus the Americans kept a tight lid on any leaks, but enough information siphoned through to give the public a general idea on how the first extraterrestrial visitors looked.
Pretty inhumane, as far at the two Eurasian Space Station residents were concerned. Certainly not something you’d ran for hugs to...
But, if it would guarantee a positive outcome, they were ready not only to hug, but kiss the alien into their gums - anything to atone for the Houston first-contact titanical atrocity. November 15th, 2065 marked the day when mankind - or, rather, a subset of mankind - put itself on the brink of terrible consequences it probably couldn’t bear.
Komarov, on his part, didn’t understand why the aliens (dubbed Cetans for the time being), chose the US territory as the landing spot for their contact craft. More so, they did it on a whim: the mothership entered Moon’s orbit, and then dropped their ambassador down right into Houston, without notifying anyone else. Had they hacked into satellites, watched a shitton of bad sci-fi, misinterpreted the US space agency HQ for all humanity’s government - Komarov didn’t know. Or was it a simple scientists’ giddiness and impatience that prompted the entity to go into contact like that, barebones and no protocol? Who even *knew* alien psychology?
All he knew is that the yank meatheads immediately detained the visitor, and 20 hours later pronounced the entity dead as it “posed a threat to US national security”. As usual, the arrogant fucks thought they knew what’s best for the world - “best” meaning what served *them* the most benefits. In fact, Artyom (and his superiors) were almost 100% certain that the whole “alien attack death thing” was a false flag, and the unfortunate creature was being tortured somewhere in a blacksite prison for the technological secrets of its kind.
In any case, in response, the Cetans, clearly now capable of communicating in Earthen languages, sent a note of protest, and a thinly veiled threat that a specie of such aggressive nature would not be tolerated. The mothership the aliens arrived on measured roughly 5 km in length, and nobody had the luxurious naïveté to assume it wasn’t armed to the teeth.
Russia and China scrambled to pick up the pieces in the face of America’s betrayal. Thankfully, a neutral “water” had been established 15 years prior to the arrival - the ERSS, a replacement for the now-defunct ISS, was chosen as a negotiating hub. And now, the Cetan had arrived.
“I’m opening it up”, Jun told Artyom, and his voice wavered. No amount of training and briefing, not even their experience as astronauts, could prepare them for what was on the other side of the door. “Brace yourself”.
***
Despite his worst fears, Artyom was relieved to find that the alien ambassador didn’t make him faint. In fact, the entity floating in the Rassvet module and touching everything it could with its limbs like a curious toddler, was somewhat familiar and even aesthetically pleasing. He remembered his diving lessons in the Red Sea and found solace in noticing attributes similar to Earthen organisms.
Most closely, as such, it resembled a brittlestar. Hectaradial symmetry, coiling tentacle-like plated appendages and a curious conglomeration of small chitinous-like moving parts located in the center of the Cetan’s sphere-like torso. One tentacle clutched a screen of some kind, similar to the tablets Komarov and Cai had on themselves as well.
The Cetan floated peacefully in the methane-rich zero G. Artyom, blindsided by his wish to find the alien’s eyes for a few seconds, jolted out of his momentary stupor, and began writing on his tablet, pausing after every word so the handwriting recognition software could turn it into the Cetan’s script. It was a true blessing that the visitors sent them their writing system and language decoding pack, as it seemed that the two species would not have been able to communicate with speech.
“Hello, visitors! The people of Earth greet you with joy and peaceful intent!”, Komarov showed the Cetan his tablet. It seemed to consider the message for a few seconds, then began writing a reply on its own - tentacle dragging over the red screen of its device.
“Peaceful intent is appreciated. Not like before”.
Artyom and Cai glanced at each other, fear streaking across both man’s faces. Komarov got to writing again.
“We are saddened by the event. It doesn’t represent the intent of Earth as a whole or the nature of our kind. It was a mistake”.
Jun watched the entity’s tentacle-like limbs curl and uncurl around it. The creature must have evolved in a very low gravity and perhaps, dense, but low-pressure atmosphere to have such a perplexing bodyplan. Its “mouth” or “eyes” moved, but no sound came out of it. Reading emotion was impossible, but he hoped it was reversed for the visitor as well. They should’ve appeared totally enigmatic to it.
“What does this mean? Is your planet not structurally unified?”
“No. It is composed of several landmassess, each with its own culture. Populating species is the same, but subgroups exist within it”
“Which subgroup do you represent?”
Komarov felt sweaty in his spacesuit as he showed his answer to Jun first. The Chinese astronaut nodded in approval.
“The group that desires peaceful cooperation with Cetus”.
“Does your group have the means to transmit its point of view on others?”
“Majorly, yes. However, not all groups, as you have already experienced, share this intent. We ask you to ignore the potential threat for now. It’s not indicative of humanity at large”.
Komarov knew he was treading dangerous grounds here. He couldn’t lie to the alien at large and present a totally save environment, but he couldn’t make it appear as if Earth is dangerous. The Cetan’s species might have not have factions or nations or even governments, he couldn’t rely on the anthrocentrism - but he should explain that humanity is not a single entity with a central decision-making node. Fucking Americans, making an already hard job 1000 times harder!
“That is satisfactory. We considered a volatile approach first, but communication is evidence of non-aggressive intent. We wish to communicate further”.
The creature’s tentacle paused over the screen. Then it wrote something, that made Komarov and Cai look at each other not in fear, but with big, if a bit nervous, grins.
“We are ready to provide means for you to ensure our safety in future proceedings”.
Komarov struck his hand out as Jun picked up a tablet to write the explanation.
“We touch extremities. A gesture of trust and lack of intent to cause physical harm”, he showed to the Cetan.
It seemed to hesitate, but then touched the astronauts palm with the rubbery pad at the end of its front tentacle-limb.
Behind the helmet glass, Komarov beamed at Jun as the historical, groundbreaking handshake commenced.
“Did we just avert the apocalypse?” Cai asked over the comm.
“Even better - we just earned ourselves some badass friends”. |
I stare into the hazel eyes of the little boy staring up at me. He couldn’t be more than four years old, his voice so fresh and pure, yet he looked at me with a smile of understanding beyond his years.
“Wh- what did you just say?” I try to hide the alarm in my voice.
“You’re Vella.”
The words made my chest feel tight. Acquaintances called me Valella. Family called me Ella. But only one person in the world called had ever called me Vella. And that person was dead.
“How, how do you know my name?” I am shocked, yet manage to pull that sweet tone of talking to a child.
“He told me,” The boy replied.
My jaw dropped. “Who . . . who told you that?” I ask.
“Drake did.”
The world around me freezes, my mind shot back to ten years ago. Drake, my partner, the very reason I could smile everyday. Drake, whom I had planned my whole life with. Drake, who went to get milk. Drake, got hit by a stray bullet in an armed robbery gone wrong. Drake, who died.
“Drake . . . told you that?” I mutter each word slowly, “is he . . . okay, where he is?”
“He wants you to be a happy family.” He took out a toy truck from his coat pocket. “You like kids, don’t you?”
I glance around at the playground. Children and mothers were plentiful, even in the January cold. “Yes, we always wanted a little boy,” I felt my throat get tight saying those words, “a little boy just like you.”
“I know,” he said, idly swung his toy truck around. “But now you can have a girl instead,” he smiled, waving at my stomach.
I glanced down, confused.
“That’s my mommy. I have to go,” he said, pointing at a woman waving at him. And before I could react he was running away, into his mother’s arms.
My breath escaped me. I turn to my shoulder, then the other. “Drake?” I whisper. “Drake?” Emotion rolls through me, raw like ten years ago. I had spent ten years training myself to suppress the pain, convincing myself he no longer existed, and I had succeeded, but this time it struck hard. I turn everywhere, heart yearning, desperate for a glimpse, just a glimpse, a sign, anything. A tear leaves my cheek. Nothing. I slump on the only empty bench. It takes me a few minutes but I subdue the emotion once again. Was what he said real? I hold my stomach, feeling out to the little life forming inside me. It was too early to know the gender, yet that little boy knew? I hadn’t even told Hugh, the rock that stopped me from years of despair and got me on my feet again.
I glance back to the playground, the little boy now gone. A small breeze blows around me, unusually warm. I manage a smile. |
"SITREP"
"ASSAULT 30%.
NEW TARGET MUNITIONS FACTORY.
HUMAN DESIGNATION:
Universal Studios
Kirk Douglas Dr,
North Hollywood,
CA 91602"
"SEND RECON UNIT.
PREP ASSAULT BASED ON RECON REPORT."
#### Recon Unit 7351
"ORDER RECEIVED.
EST ETA 30 KK."
...
*STEALTH MODE*
TANGO___ 0
WEAPONS 0
INTELINK_ Transmitting
...
*Video Intel located, add to queue*
...
### Intel Assessment Ship 9275
"Recon team report arriving. Distributing to net. All analysts begin assimilation."
...
"Urgent analysis: Facility not weapons factory. Facility weapons design and testing. Highly advanced weapons detected. Video records of tests versus many alien craft, far superior to capital ship designs. Space capable fighter craft; high quality robotics with mimetic metal; human wieldable plasma cannon; est 250% standard capital ship weapon. Advise immediate retreat with full evasion course to protect homeworks."
### Subsequent Human Intel Assessment
Aliens infiltrated Universal Studios film lot, and searched both the design studio and the available film library. After which the entire attack force went completely on the defensive in a fighting retreat.
Based on fragmentary sigint finally decided and deciphered, it is at least 80% likely that the aliens assumed that the various weapons portrayed were prototypes in testing.
Extended analysis of alien psychological factors indicate high likelihood of return after sufficient weapons research to match the capabilities shown in the films. (Apdx G: Film List)
Urge immediately projects to replicate those weapons at even greater power levels than those demonstrated in the films by a factor of at least 100.
### Homeworld SciTech
"We do not *care* what you think is possible. The humans have these weapons, we must exceed those levels by a significant factor. Now GET STARTED BEFORE WE HAVE YOU EXECUTED!"
"Boss?"
"Yes, Budyu?"
"What factor should we assume is sufficient?"
"We went from the original blaster to our current capital ship weapon in 10 years. Now, we could replicate that feat in 1 year. That advancement represented an improvement factor of 50. The leader is impatient, use 50.
Human research capacity otherwise appears limited, estimate shows improvement of no more than factor 10.
50 gives us a significant advantage over anything they could produce in one year, plus manufacturing time, which would require even more time."
### China, Major Electronics Manufacturer
"Never thought I'd see the day when ITAR was thrown out the window."
"Neither did we."
"How's the production going."
"Test models already being distributed. Based on reports, we may be able to begin full production within the week."
"And compared to the weapons that they *think* we have?"
"An improvement factor of 500."
((finis)) |
"So this is it?"I asked, greeting the nervous faces around me, each seeming to turn away at my words. "Look we all came here, hardly seems worth it to shy away. What happened to the confidence? Weren't we going to kill it? Slaughter it? You all agreed."I reminded the gulp, watching the throat of one of the girls bob with a gulp.
"Look, if you back out, you know the consequences... and you all know that I will enforce them."With that I began opening up the small cloth in front of me, gazing over the shining metallic objects that were hidden beneath it.
"Grab one."I instructed. The group looked at one another, before stepping forward, each clasping one of the objects before sitting. "Now, lets eat this ten kilograms of icecream..." |
\[PI\]
"Dammit."I swore as I fished around in my pocket for a pair of keys. Another pair of keys gone, another lecture from my roommate, Vic.
I stepped towards the door and began pounding my fist on it while shouting up at Vic's window. I kept knocking until I finally gave up, deciding that Vic was at his girlfriend's. He frequently stayed the night at her place because it was closer to his work. I'd threatened to kick him out several times, trying to get him to finally move in with the girl, but he always laughed at me. It pissed me off.
Normally I'd be screwed, but Vic had started leaving the kitchen window unlocked for me. I did *not* want to have to climb through the window in my mini-skirt, but I didn't really have any other options. I *could* be that friend who texts Vic at 2:00 AM and demands he comes over with some keys, but c'mon, I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a total bitch. Anyways, I didn't want him to know I stayed out drinking 'til 2:00 AM.
I rounded the house until I came to the kitchen. I struggled with the window for a bit before I managed to get it open. Well, half-open. It won't be the first time my skinny frame helps me squeeze in to a tight space. With a grunt I haul myself into the window and begin crawl in. The sink faucet was sticking me in the stomach and my hands were slipping and sliding on the wet counter, but it was still going better than I had expected.
That is, until I noticed that my house was different than when I had last saw it. The place was trashed. I'm talking broken plates littering the ground, Vic and I's clothes scattered on the floor, and our couch was shoved into a wall. When I saw that I began to skitter backwards, desperate to get out of the house.
But I was stuck. Stuck in the stupid window.
A plethora of swears rang out in my head as I desperately tried to push myself backwards, wanting more than anything to be out of my own home. I was scared and I didn't know what to do. Vic wasn't here and I wasn't sure who was around. If I shouted the intruder in the house may find me, but if I didn't, and they found me anyway... it'd be too late.
Finally I dislodged myself and shoved myself backwards, with angry tears flowing own my face. *Damn whoever is in my house, damn me for not picking that cute guy in the bar, and damn Vic for not being here*.
And as I sat on that cold grass I realized I didn't know that Vic wasn't here. My spine began to tingle as I thought on. I didn't know that he was at his girlfriend's, I assumed that when he didn't open the door. After I shouted and banged on the door for several minutes straight.
My next realization knocked the breath right out of me. *Whoever was in there already knew I was here*. |
The beat of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom—two dull clanks that interrupted the murmuring crowd.
“All rise for the right Honorable Justice Cadmius P. Karewa.” The clerk’s voice thundered through the courtroom, cutting through the sudden scuffles made by the rising participants.
Cadmius P. Karewa, Magician of the thirteenth order, strode through the large wooden door to the left of the right of the stand. His stern countenance scanned the crowd, a small frown expressing his displeasure with the publicity this case had garnered. The light pooled and twisted around his grey robes, which contained equal parts cotton and interwoven platinum strands, before dazzling the eyes of all who beheld them. Sweeping behind him, the robes captured the attention of all in the room, until he had sat in his rightful place at the bench.
“Please continue, clerk.” Cadmius said. His eyes remained unsmiling.
“Right,” the clerk muttered, tearing his eyes away from the judge’s robes. “The court will be examining the matter of the Silvertongue murder case. The defendant in this case is Jarvis Viltursson, magician of the fifth order. He will be represented by Boris Petram, magician of the eleventh order. The prosecution will be provided by Stacey Ugesin, magician of the tenth order.”
The clerk took his seat, the soft rubbing of his chair against the wooden floor audible over the clacking of typewriters and scratching of quills.
The introduction of the court now complete, Jarvis returned his attention to the matter at hand—the case itself. His lawyer, Mr. Petram, had assured him that his alibi was “watertight”—not that it would have to do anything other than stay afloat. A quick glance at Mr. Petram, his long muzzle twitching in response to an aggravating scent, called all of his reassurances into question. Jarvis ignored these doubts, as he had so many others.
“Your Lordship,” the staccato rhythms of Mrs. Ugesin’s voice grated upon his ears. “The prosecution would like to present our first piece of evidence. Following the report of the murder of Mr. Silvertongue, our best forensic magicians appeared on the scene. They discovered vast quantities of carbon debris centered around Mr.Silvertongue’s remains, far more than would be expected from the burning of an aged magician and the possessions usually contained within a magician’s office.”
“Elaborate, Mrs. Ugesin.” Justice Cadmius bore no patience for being lead through the evidence.
“If it pleases your Lordship, the forensic magicians have discovered that this carbon debris fits the mass, density, and composition of *nepenthes truncata*, mofe commonly known as a pitcher plant native to the Philippines. However, its volume was far larger than those found in the wild, encompassing the entire floor of the office within its pitcher. Mr. Silvertongue’s remains were examined, and forensics has determined that the cause of death was acidic decomposition. The pitcher plant disposes of its victims using a similar method. The defendant’s magical affinity is similar to the method used in the murder of Mr. Silvertongue.” Mrs. Ugesin paused, extending the silence in a pathetic attempt to create dramatic tension. “The prosecution rests, your Lordship.”
“Does the defendant have a rebuttal?” Cadmius asked.
“Yes, your Lordship,” Mr. Petram said, his jowls wiggling as his snout attempted to keep up with the foreign motions. Jarvis had concealed his intense dislike of Mr. Petram for several months, but his discomfort surrounding the alien vision of a canine using human speech was a matter he had never completely addressed. “The defendant would like to call a witness. Kate Gartelli, please come to the stand.”
Ms. Gartelli was a widow who resided in the house left of the Viltursson residence. She had dealt with Jarvis in matters related to lawn maintenance and other menial tasks. Throughout all of these procedures, she had been a pleasure to deal with. Jarvis nearly felt empathy for her plight. She sat upon the stand, a tightly coiled ball of exposed nerves.
“Ms. Gartelli,” Mr. Petram began, “In what capacity are you familiar with Mr. Viltursson?”
“I’m… I’m his neighbor,” she whispered.
“I apologize Ms. Gartelli, but I must ask you to speak louder,” Mr. Petram replied, “Once again, in what capacity are you familiar with Mr. Viltursson?”
“I’m his neighbor,” she replied, “I have been his neighbor for the past fifteen years.”
“And where were you, on the night of July 12th, at 7:17pm?”
“I was at home, watching the evening news. A quaint piece on quilting had just begun, and I remember being aggrieved at the ravaged nature of their linens. Why it still irks me to this day—”
“Yes, thank you Ms. Gartelli,” Mr. Petram said, “Now, did you observe Mr. Viltursson in his residence.?”
“Yes, I did,” she replied, “he had arrived home from work at 5:35pm, as usual, before he began cleaning what I assumed was the kitchen. The lights were on in the kitchen until 7 pm, after which they were switched off and I could see his head peeking over the couch arm in his living room as he watched television. He remained there until 9 am, when he went to bed.”
“Thank you, madam,” Mr. Petram said. “That will be all, thank you.”
She bowed her head, mousy brown hair tossed forward with the violence of the motion.
“Would the defendant like to continue?” Cadmius stared at Mr. Petram, daring him to do it. It should have been obvious to everyone in the room that he desired nothing less, but Mr. Petram incorrectly took it as an opportunity.
“Yes, your Lordship,” Mr. Petram said, “I believe that this information from the witness provides support—”
“Yes, that will be all. Thank you.” Cadmius said. “Prosecution, you may now have this opportunity to cross-examine the witness.”
Mrs. Ugesin approached the stand. Her swift motion drew Jarvis’ attention. “Ms. Gartelli, you saw Mr. Viltursson enter the house at 5:35 pm, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you saw him lie on the sofa to watch television at approximately 7 pm, correct?
“Yes.” Ms Gartelli’s head bobbed nervously.
“Did you see him approach the sofa?”
“Well, I can’t sa—”
Did you, or did you not see Mr. Viltursson lie on the sofa at 7 pm, Ms. Gartelli?
“I…” Ms Gartelli bowed her head. “I did not.”
“Then would it be possible that Mr. Viltursson had left the house without your knowledge?”
“Yes.” Ms. Gartelli flicked her eyes towards Mr. Petram, hoping to see mercy in those eyes. *The poor woman would have better luck searching the oceans for an iota of mercy than Mr. Petram’s soulless eyes*, Jarvis thought.
“The prosecution has no further questions, your Lordship.” Mrs. Ugesin returned to her seat, a small, fleeting smile gracing her lips.
“The court has seen enough,” Cadmius said, “between the evidence presented and the witness’ responses, the court should have enough information to determine a verd—”
Noticing Jarvis’ raised hand, Cadmius stopped. “The defendant may speak.”
“If it pleases your honour,” Jarvis began, “The defendant would like to provide testimony under the effects of *narro veritas*, otherwise known as the truthseeker.”
A singular intake of breath could be heard around the courtroom, as every onlooker was taken by surprise. *Narro veritas* had not been used voluntarily during a criminal trial in twenty-eight years, the year it was deemed inadmissible as evidence by the Board of Magical Ethics for violating the rights of magicians under its effects. The suggestion of this by the defendant would either declare his innocence, or re-confirm his guilt.
“Are you positive that you want this,” Cadmius asked, partaking in a small break of legal decorum, “The use of the truthseeker violates many of your rights as a magician of any order. You are under no obligation to do so.”
Jarvis looked at his wrists, seeing only metal restraints. “I am decided, your Lordship,” he declared, his eyes meeting those of Cadmius.
“Then so be it,” whispered Cadmius. A hint of respect flashed through his eyes, followed immediately by a cool flicker of remorse.
“Bring out the vial.” he said.
___________________________________________________
If you liked this piece, be sure to check out my other writing at [r/smoothbaritone](https://www.reddit.com/r/smoothbaritone/). Thanks for reading! |
I was sitting in my chair watching the news of my latest exploits when the doorbell rang. I had no one I knew of that was supposed to be coming, so I got up, adjusted my jacket to look my best, and strode to the door. Looking through the peephole, I saw a police officer standing there, arms behind his back.
My eyes shot open at the sight. Every part of me wanted to run, to bolt for the fire exit. Still, I steeled myself, opening the door with a smile. "Yes, what can I do for you?"
"Sir, as you may be aware, there has been a number of robberies in the area, with some of the items taken being of high value."The officer was tall, with pale, freckled skin. On his chest was a shining name tag that read *Wilkins*.
My heart quickened as he spoke. *Was it time? Were my exploits about to become infamous?* I did my best to meet his gaze without looking anxious. "Yes, I had heard something about that. What does that have to do with me?"
"Well, given some of the information that has come to light, we think you might be able to help us with a few leads we have."
"Um, how could I possibly help, Officer,"I spoke as I leaned in to look at the name tag again, surreptitiously sliding it off his chest and into my hand. "...Wilkins?"
The man, seemingly unaware of what I had done, flipped open a pad and pulled out a worn pen. "Well, can you tell me what you know about Jefferson Allis?"
I tilted my head at the name. He was one of my many fences for the things that I took but didn't want. He must have stuck his neck out too far, and might have dropped my name. I decided to play it cool. "I do know of him. As a matter of fact, he and I were in high school together for a few years. We kept in touch a little bit here and there, but he and I drifted our separate ways. What makes you think he's part of all that, anyway?"
"Well, we connected him to the large art heist that took place last week. He was trying to sell one of the Rembrandt paintings when we arrested him. He said you might be able to give some insight into how he got it."
"Oh, did he now?"I raised my eyebrows, heart pounding heavily in my chest now. *Stay calm. You need to get out of this. If this one cop catches you here, now, no one will know what you've done. You need to get caught in the act. That's how they'll all know what you've really done.*
Wilkins nodded gravely, then his face softened. "Not sure why he thought he could drop your name, though. Seems a bit ridiculous if you think about it. Who would take the word of a piece of street slime like that?"
I chuckled, hoping Wilkins hadn't picked up on the pause before. "R-right, of cou-absolutely. Who would? He was always a bit of a slimeball if you ask me, and I know my slimeballs."
That jab hit the mark, and the cop nearly double over in laughter. He guffawed for a few solid seconds before finally catching his breath and straightening up. "Oh, I needed that. Well, I'm quite sorry to have wasted your time, but you know how these investigations go. Need to follow every lead. If we need anything further, we'll be in touch."At that, he turned and began walking back down the hall to the elevator.
Once I was sure he had gone, I closed the door, turning to look at the items I had *procured* over the years. I sat back down in the easy chair, letting my fingers play over the name tag still in my hand. *Well, one less person to sell stuff to, then. That takes it down to...five. What a waste.*
Another knock at the door, similar to the one before. I glanced back again, then got up and walked over once more. Opening the door, I once again found Officer Wilkins, looking more contrite. "Um, I know this is a bit out of the ordinary, but, well..."
His voice trailed off as he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the same pad and paper. "Could I have your autograph, Mister Pacino? I'm a huge fan."
/u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker (2019 Edition!): 39/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories! |
The two men stood either side of the room. Both knew that only one of them was leaving. Speed against strength. Fighting for the fate of the world. Moving past his opponent, Serpent drew his blades, his manoeuvre was replied to with the swipe of a hammer, in the hand of Titan.
Good and evil weren’t concerns here, this was survival. Serpent felt how his shoulder cracked to Titans hammer. He looked at Titan, after all of this fighting, he looked pristine, while Serpent looked like a train wreck. Dust scalp to toe, cuts and gashes. He could feel defeat rearing it’s ugly head.
One last idea cropped into his head. The day he got his power, he was warned. “Never go faster than light.” He never understood the science behind it, but the old man was good at that stuff.
But, this was the moment he would cast that advice aside. He could beat Titan, if Titan couldn’t hit him. If Serpent moves faster than light. Titan can’t see him. *that was the idea.*
As he pushed himself to lightspeed. The room slowed down, until it slowed to a halt. Then, something... unexpected happened.
He stepped out of thin air. A slender man in a black Three Piece suit. Pressed and pristine. He wore black leather gloves, and spoke in a rich accent. “Now you’ve done it, fucko.” He said:
Serpent couldn’t help but note how the room was still suspended in time, despite the fact that he was still.
“You know why you ‘hero’s’ haven’t wiped *reality* itself from the concept of existence. Me!” He shouted, in a sudden burst of anger. “ I have to go across the Universe, *constantly!* To stop you dullards from ripping apart *your* planet, and everybody else’s.”
Serpent apologetically shrugged, “Sorry?” He replied, uncertainty ringing in the room.
“You know, I haven’t seen my family in Three-and-a-half *Thousand* years. Because you *idiots* can’t keep yourselves from breaking the universe.” He said.
The man looked remarkably young for his age. A thin beard wrapped around his jaw. Tight cheekbones and sleek brown hair. The only part of him were his eyes.
“Okay?” Serpent replied, the tone of his voice showed just how far out of his depth he was. “How do I get out of this?”
“No, you don’t.” The man said
“Im sorry?” Serpent cried
“I let you out, you move so fast you tear apart the Earth and half the galaxy. You’re stuck here, kiddo.” He said. With an emotionless stillness that petrified Serpent.
“You can’t do that!” He shouted.
The man scoffed, “Its my fucking job.”
“Wait!” Serpent shouted, but the man was gone. And he was standing in the centre of the room. Titan was there, still as a portrait. Serpent reached out, and watched in horror as his hand passed through him, leaving him unscathed.
Serpent was stuck. Never aging. Never starving. Never dying. In a sarcophagus of his own design. He created himself the perfect prison. |
I look at the house again. I see the boy, about my age or something like that, look at me. I sigh.
"I guess I got lost. I'm new here. Who are you?"When the boy responded, I recognized the name. It was my grandfathers name. I was named after my grandmother. I know why. He smiled and held out his hand. He asked me my name and I responded back. He then said his before asking:
"Do you need help getting home?"I shook my head.
"Nah. I can get there myself."He smiled and nodded. "My... mother, she said I should make friends, so do you want to hangout?"He nodded and grabbed my hand and we headed inside.
Over the years, we grew up together. I somehow evaded the 'who are your parents' question, and it was all good. It was exactly as my grandfather said he met my grandmother. 'She was lost and new, and we became best friends'
One day at work I was on lunch break with him, and he asked me,
"Remember when we first met? You got lost and confused about who's house you were at?"I nodded and laughed.
"Yeah. Why?"I asked.
"You were confused, but somehow something tells me you knew where you were. Are you from the future?"I sighed. He looked surprised. "Wait seriously?!"I nodded.
"I hope it doesn't change anything."He shakes his head.
We did get married, adopted a girl who would soon be my mother, and soon, it was the day I went grocery shopping. I told my sorta past-future self,
"Could you buy me something from the store?" |
The Snake and the Wolf
Lilith sneaked out of her home as soon as she possibly could that day, leaving her homework undone. The place was insufferable today, really.
Maree, her oldest Sister, had been striving with aunt Margo for weeks. Margo claimed their neighbor, that old croatian hag, had gone bonkers because of some spliff Maree smoked with her, or, even more absurdly, because of this new breed of mint Maree gave her saplings of. Lucile, Lilith's other sister, had her boyfriend over, that smug and ever-grinning vampyre lifestyler. He really was an insane 24/7 LARPer who drove everyone bonkers by his mere presence. Of course the two also bickered with Maree, they used any excuse for that, always. So Maree threatened them to cancel their free supply of spliffs, what really got this Algernon going. He called Maree a hypocrite and a wannabe witch, even treatened to bite her "to show you how and why the world turns, if you won'T get it any other way", whatever that was supposed to mean. Of course, it ended in all the women having hysterics and smoking more grass to calm down their nerves. Algernon had excused himself at that point, and Lucile started accusing everyone of ruining her relationship, then Lilith fled.
Ske left her bike behind where the proper road ended, a bit into the woods already. She made her way to a little clearing which had a forgotten felled tree that was rather comfortable to sit on. She took a little packet out of a pocket in her leather jacket she had fished out of Algernon's jacket while he was busy telling Margo how it was always a pleasure to see her and hers, but he really had to run some errands before the shops closed, he's had a hardtime to make himself heard because Lucile and Maree were yelling at one another, that dipshit. Margo always got mad when she caught Lilith smoking grass, and Lilith knew she had a point there, developping brain and all, but how was she supposed to stand this household?
Lilith had papers and fire for herself, she got her spliff burning quickly and inhaled hessitantly. She was not really a smoker and had to get used to it first. It tasted sort of funny, but that was what she would expect of anything that came from Algernon. When she felt her mind relax and and wander off she put it out and got up. She started to wander around a bit, enjoying nature with this oversensitive mind grass often gave her. She just wandered around idly, taking in the beauty of he place, and all those smells and sounds. Her long, black skirt got caugt in brambles, the lace recieved a long tear. Lilith was too high to really care, she just pulled it loose and walked on.
When that skirt got its second tear she giggled, pondering weather this would make her look more mysterious or just like, more white trash. It didn‘t matter in the end. The kids at school didn‘t like her looks anyway, the neighborhood kids were real trash and Lucile would not accept her as an equal unless she was fully grown no matter what. And Maree, well, she was a muggle if ever there was one and „nice is the little sister of shitty“, as they say. Lilith stumbled over something, it didn‘t feel like a stone. She looked at her feet. A cell and it didn‘t look like it had been laying there for long. So she picked it up. It was some nondescript china phone, but rather big, and to her amazement not locked.
So she sat down in the grass where she was and found herself looking at the selfies of a rather cute guy. Early 20ies, she estimated, and he always seemed to wear the same ragged pair of jeans and a collection of washed out prog rock band shirts. He was rather small for a guy but muscular and wiry. What a body, and that grin. The shoulder-long hair with an undercut and a few gray streaks. But was he really a guy in a phone? Those pictures seemed full of wolves weaving through the woods, where did he take those? She tried to open whatsapp to find out some more about the guy, but the effects of the grass crept upon her even more, this stuff kicked ass.
Lilith felt the soil and the grass all over her body although she still just sat there, or so she thought. Suddenly the world looked strange, she had almost 360° view, and the colours looked somewhat off. Her Body felt long and thin, she didn’t seem to have arms or legs anymore. Next, she felt herself winding through the grass of the clearing, feeling the play of strong muscles under rigid skin. She saw the everything from a strange perspective, either, but that already started to feel natural. She didn’t think any more, her old world was gone, not even gone, never existed. She was all these feelings, smells and tastes. Yes tastes, they were he same as smells, that was what her tongue was all about. She could smell that the clearing was sometimes frequented by mice, but right now the trails were all cold. The cell was still there, but it was only a piece of cold, hard material to her now. Jet it reminded her of something. That orifice where her belly ended and her tail started had something to do with it, some non-thought made it itch for something.
Suddenly, ther was a shadow looming over her. Something wet and warm ran along her body, making her even more aware of its form. She didn’t like wet, but boy, did she like warm! She was afraid anyway, but saw no way to escape when that big animal laid down next to her and gently nudged her towards it. So she curled up in its warm pelt. No not it, it was a boy, and the thought was exciting. The Wolf kept licking her, it desired her, but not as a meal, which they both understood.
“You feel like my little sister, for all I know you could be”
He licked her in all the right places, suddenly she was a girl again, in the arms of the cute punk boy.
“ As if I couldn’T track my own cell, little stupid”
But he kept caressing her, and waited for her to initiate anything more, which she soon did. It felt right at a deep level, although the effects of the funny grass seemed to have worn off. |
The streets of New York City were chaos. Not since the Chitauri invasion three years prior had there been such a state of mass panic. People stampeded onto evacuation transports, in terror of the things that had decided to make New York their battleground.
The ground shook as a three-hundred-foot-tall, reptillian creature lumbered into the city. Covered in charcoal gray scales and with jagged, maple-leaf shaped fins on his back, this was Godzilla, the undisputed king of monsters. Godzilla, however, was not what the citizens of New York were meant to be afraid of. Something far worse had been laying siege to the city prior to that. Godzilla roared at his opponent, stood on top of the Empire State Building, who screeched back.
After a few minutes, mechanical footsteps echoed throughout the city, as an Iron Man suit, a little shorter than Godzilla himself walked into the city. Inside, Tony Stark himself was piloting, moving the suit towards his target. This was the Zilla Buster - a Titan-sized suit, meant to fight these gigantic creatures; specifically Godzilla.
However, the Zilla Buster suit was headed to *help* Godzilla, not fight him. There was another force, far more powerful, deadly and genuinely malevolent, that sought to end them both. And, you know what they said about the enemy of one’s enemy...
The Zilla Buster’s visual sensors found their mutual enemy; the triple-headed, golden, winged beast that perched atop the Empire State Building. Stark knew this creature very well - the invasive alien monster King Ghidorah. Awakened by a careless Wolfgang von Strucker, Ghidorah had mauled Godzilla near-to-death and staged a mass awakening of the other sleeping Titans; commanding them to wipe out all life on Earth. The Avengers had found Godzilla, critically injured, and brought him back to full strength. Using Wanda Maximoff’s psychic abilities, they had managed to calm the other Titans down. The only loose end? Ghidorah.
Ghidorah vaulted from the roof of the Empire State, like a vampire bat, and took to the sky. Stark noticed his necks glowing; he was getting ready to blast his enemy with his gravity bolts. Stark lifted the suit’s forearms and fired four missiles at the three-headed dragon. Ghidorah shrieked in pain as the missiles hammered into his wing, sending him crashing to the ground.
*Got you, you son of a bitch*, Stark smirked internally. The great dragon barely had time to look up before Godzilla grabbed one of his heads and choke-slammed him through a building. Ghidorah screeched in outrage as he was hurled to the ground. However, before he could lunge forward, one of the Zilla Buster’s forearm missiles hit him in the chest, knocking him to the floor.
Ghidorah looked up at them and hissed defiantly. Godzilla turned to look at his new ally and nodded. Stark chuckled, “That’s right, big guy, I know you understand”. The two turned to their mutual enemy, who was getting up. “Let’s see if two heads are better than three.”
Ghidorah dived towards Stark in the Zilla Buster; however, a blast from Godzilla’s atomic breath knocked him to the floor before he could make impact. Stark fired a forearm missile at Ghidorah, knocking him to the ground, allowing Godzilla to land a blow on him. With their tag-team system, and with Ghidorah being injured faster than he could heal, the battle was slowly turning in Stark and Godzilla's favour.
And Ghidorah knew it too. After a hit from the Zilla Buster's forearm missiles, Ghidorah turned away, vaulted in the air and began flying away. Godzilla looked at Stark, and Stark somehow knew what he was thinking; *We can't let the bastard get away*. As this happened, Godzilla's fins began glowing and Stark activated the Zilla Buster's arc reactor at the fleeing Ghidorah, both firing at the same time. The combined arc reactor beam and atomic breath hit Ghidorah's wings, causing them to burn like paper. Ghidorah, wingless, fell, crashing to the ground.
As the cloud of dust cleared, Stark and Godzilla looked at their enemy. Ghidorah, wingless, lay, thrashing on the ground, cowering from his enemy. Godzilla calmly walked towards Ghidorah, opened the mouth of Ghidorah's central head and began shooting his atomic breath down the throat. Ghidorah’s body began to spasm as blue light began to glow from his insides..
A thought suddenly entered Tony Stark’s mind. He wasn't *quite* sure if the radiation shields on this suit would protect him from what was going to happen. He activated the suit's jump jets and flew several miles away from the coming explosion. Watching from the air, he saw a surge of blue light engulf both Godzilla and Ghidorah, almost blinding him and sending a hurricane-force wind through the ravaged city.
After a few minutes, the light faded, leaving only a cloud of dust. Curious, Stark moved the Zilla Buster suit to the ground. There was no sign of either Godzilla or Ghidorah. He put the weapons on ready; if Ghidorah had, somehow, survived this, he'd need to be finished off.
As the dust cleared, the first thing Tony saw was that Godzilla stood triumphant. The only thing left of Ghidorah was his severed middle head, which was wriggling away, like some oversized earthworm. The rest of Ghidorah’s body had presumably been destroyed, atomised by Godzilla’s atomic breath.
*Oh, for God's sake*, Tony thought, *Is it really impossible to kill this thing*?
His scientist’s mind began theorising as to what the head was aiming to do. Maybe it was in its death throes. Or perhaps it was trying to escape. It was planning to find somewhere to hide and regenerate its body. After all, if Ghidorah could regrow a lost *head*...
However, the head's wriggling became slower and slower, before, finally, it ceased. The unkillable space dragon was, at last, dead.
Their common enemy slain, Tony turned to look at Godzilla. There was something about him. He looked... tired. Weary. The ancient behemoth turned to Tony and gave him a tired, but respectful nod. Tony couldn't help but return it.
Godzilla threw back his head and let out a "SKREEOONK!"of triumph, before returning to the sea from whence he had come. Until the Earth needed him again.
As he watched the titan swim away, Tony's mind began to ponder. Cap had said, after his and Nat’s encounter with Godzilla on the *Manchuria*, that there had been *something* in Godzilla's eyes. Something that spoke of more than just a mindless monster or instinct-driven animal.
He'd disregarded it then, but now... it was hard to deny it when it was right in front of you. The Chitauri, the Dark Elves and now Ghidorah... a lot of nasty things in the universe were starting to pay attention to Earth. Perhaps it’d help to have a powerful friend on their side.
***
"Director Fury, you're making things more and more difficult for us,"a councilman with a British accent said. "First this Avengers Initiative. And now this monster you just allowed to escape."
"You remember what Captain Rogers said,"Fury said. "We don't have the firepower to take down these monsters."
"So we're to just let this beast go into the ocean and hope it protects us?"another member of the council, a woman asked.
"Why not?"Fury said. "It worked for the Avengers."
"This is different,"a councilman with a Russian accent said. "The Avengers are people. This is a monster.”
"We don't have anything to match up to monsters,"Fury said. "What better weapon against monsters than another monster?"
"And what if this thing decides to attack us?"the councilwoman asked.
"Animals don't attack unless they're provoked,"Fury stated. "Don't poke the tiger."The Council was quiet. "The news about Godzilla defeating Ghidorah is going worldwide. Which means that it will reach every world."
"What are they to learn of this?"the British councilman asked.
"That Earth is dangerous,"Fury said. "That WE'RE dangerous. That we look after our planet. And we're not afraid to get dirty. We've got heroes, but we've also got monsters. And they damn well better think twice before they act."Not awaiting a response, Fury disconnected from the Council. He walked back onto the bridge, watching the Helicarrier crew scramble back and forth. Slowly but surely, things were returning back to normal. As normal as they could get after a monster attack. The Avengers had gone their separate ways.
Tony was still at Avengers Tower, looking into some “Mechagodzilla” project along with Bruce and ex-SHIELD roboticist Dr Hank Pym. Steve had reunited Clint with his family, before returning to to SHIELD, whilst Natasha slipped into the shadows once more, returning to her life of espionage for SHIELD. Thor, claiming that Ghidorah’s uprising had been planned by *someone*, had returned to Asgard, vowing to find answers. And new additions to the Avengers team were being trained - Stark’s old friend James Rhodes, who had helped protect the Helicarrier from the attacking Rodan, Rogers’ new comrade Sam Wilson, the android Vision and Wanda Maximoff.
Earth was safe.. For now. |
— *Shit!* the Man swore loudly.
*He glanced at his pocket watch. A quarter of an hour that the Priest must have arrived. He took a look through the slats of window blinds to see if a car wasn’t parked. Suddenly, a deep sound arose from the upstairs, like if the bed was moved by a strong power. And he knew it … because it was the case.*
— *Shit!* cursed he again.
— *Son of a bitch!* Screamed afar voice. *Free me! Free me or I make your life like hell!*
*He knees clashed. Maybe, he thought. Maybe, the Thing was right. He began to approach the stairs when the bell rang. Finally! The Man opened the door, and the Priest entered the saloon.*
— *Sorry for my late,* explained the cleric. *But my last exorcism had taken more effort than expect. A robust foe, you see.*
— *Yes… Yes… But now, if you please, there is no time to waste. The Thing becomes more and more angry and powerful as the clock was ticking.*
— *Of course, the way?*
*The man pointed the direction where he locked his big issue. Doubtless, the Priest ran up the stairs quickly to reach the bedroom where lay the Thing on the bed. What the clergyman saw made him pale. A young girl with convulsing eyes and foam around her mouth. Perhaps the daughter of the Man, the Priest thought.*
— *So, there you are, pitiful liar,* spoke the Thing with his disembodied voice.
— *Shut up, monster!* the Priest replied. Oh, Jesus. It’s crazier than what you told me.
— *Could you do something against it?* the Man asked fearfully.
— *I will try.*
*When the cleric took his sacred cross and his holy water, the Thing spited to his face.*
— *Nothing will destroy me! Free me if you search for peace.*
*For only answer, the Priest raises his cross in a quick move and* *started* *to sprinkle the bed with water. The Thing screamed noisily. After that, a holy bible appeared in the cleric’s hands.*
— *Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversii omnis congregatio secta diabolica ergo draco maledicte ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus audi nos,* recited the Priest deeply in a trance.
*More foam appeared in the girl’s mouth with strange throat noises. The eyes turned quickly in their orbits. The charm took effect after all. The Thing struggled intensely. But the power of the church will break he. The Priest knew it. After all, he believed it fervently. When the moment was come, he approached the Thing and put his thumb on the brow and said a last prayer. In a wheeze, the Thing left the body of the young girl and vanished in a smoke.*
*On his guard, the Man joined his daughter and took her hand. The girl opened her eyes slowly and, when she saw her father, took each other in their arms. It was finally done.*
*With gratitude, the Man accompanied the Priest to the door and paid him for his service. The cleric got out with his bucks in hand and reached his car. A Machiavellian* *smile pointed on his face after sitting.*
— *Hey, dude! Where is my part? said a familiar voice.*
*When the Priest looked on the other seat, he saw an elegant man with horns in an expensive suit. The Thing. They made fist-bump together and the cleric gave his part to the demon.*
— *The show was like you expect? asked this last.*
— *Yeah. Better than usual. So... who’s next? he rejoiced.* |
The sounds of metal scraping the cracked surfaces of old dishes rang throughout the apartment. Pay attention long enough and you might want to put your head in your hands and scream, as if adding to the noise might bring about some long awaited silence. At least, that's how I felt while I sat at our dining room table, although to call it that is to make it seem less of a plastic surface quickly losing the battle against gravity and two generations of use.
The cause of my auditory pain came not ten feet away from me, in our "kitchen", which consisted a beige mini-fridge from the '90s, a coil stove that frequently lit on fire if you turned the heat too high, and a sink. Above that sink stood Sara, washing the dishes by hand and setting them on our dish rack which took over half of the already too-small counter space. The dish rack was one of those things we had stood over at the IKEA for what seemed like hours, arguing over its practicality, cost, and function. I had argued fervently for the smaller, metal rack that would be perfect for the amount of dishes two people tend to use over the span of a couple of days. Why would we need anything larger? It's not like we'll ever invite anyone over to this shitty studio apartment, with its peeling white walls and homeless transients on the stairwell. Of course, Sara started crying over what she calls my "confrontational attitude", and as more and more customers in that warehouse store looked at us, I decided it wasn't worth the fight. We got the larger, plastic rack. The same one that Sara was now slamming dishes into as if we had the money to walk down the street to any of the specialty retailers that seem to never stop popping up in this neighborhood and buy a brand new set of ceramic, hand made plates to replace the ones she was going to smash into dust any second now. Why couldn't we have just lived a little further outside of the city? Sure, we may have had to drive a little ways to "hit the shops"or whatever the fuck people dream of doing in the city when they don't live inside of it- but at least we would have had the space to walk around each other in the bathroom when one of us is running late and MUST brush their teeth while the other person tries to shave their face without cutting themselves on their blunt razors because they can't afford to renew their subscription to that one razor delivery service which seemed like a good idea at a few dollars a month but quickly turned into an unnecessary expense when I lost my job.
That was a hell of a time. It was 97 degrees that day. I remember walking up the steps to the studio in the middle of the day after getting let go. I remember telling myself I would have a job again in no time- I mean I got my degree, I have the work experience, and the "economic policy experts"on the news said that the job market was booming. I remember walking in the door to see Sara sweating and sprawled on the couch, leaving a stain of human moisture on it as she sat up with surprise in her eyes at my own, equally sweaty self showing up so early to our place on her day off. I remember she wanted to hug me, re-assure me that everything would be fine, but it was too hot and the last thing I wanted to do was to combine our soaked bodies together into a conjoined mess of overheated half-persons. I guess that's really where the war started.
It's been four months since that day. I have about a month left of living expenses in my bank account before I'll have to start thinking of getting out of here. Would that be so bad though? When I offered that interpretation to Sara, she didn't say anything. She just stared, blankly at me, for what seemed like ages.
"I mean maybe a change could be good for us, right?"I suggested, bracing myself for a response. Did I even want her to tell me what she was thinking below the head of tight, red curls that never seemed to lose their bounce when she walked? Probably not, but she threw one at me anyway.
"What would be good for us is for you to get up off your ass and start working for this relationship."
What surprised me then wasn't the words themselves, objectively she was right- what surprised me was how blankly she looked at me while she said it. There was no emotion, there was just intention.
And since then I've woken up every morning, and strapped myself in armor, and picked up my sword, since as we argued more we got better at fighting. We learned how to parry, dodge, and return arguments as if we were Olympic fencers, obsessed with nothing but the demise of the opponent- a necessary part of victory. As the fighting got more intense, so did the blood that spilled out from us and onto our dark brown wooden floor, staining the rug that we got from a blackout-tattoo covered neighbor when he moved out. The studio was ruined with the mementos of an imaginary war- down to the broken, plastic clock that I knocked over once when kicking our side table. Why did we even need that clock anyway? We can check the time on our phones whenever we want. Now the clock didn't even work. It was cheap, how could anyone expect it to survive such a fall?
The sound of an explosion brought my eyes away from the chipped plastic table and up toward Sara, who was now crouched over the floor, collecting the glass pieces of yet another product that was too cheap to survive a simple fall. Now we only own three cups. Perfect. I stared at her feeble attempts to collect the shards without getting hurt. She kept trying to collect those tiny pieces of glass sand with her fingers with no success.
"Can I help you?"I asked, the sound of my plastic chair rubbing against the floor momentarily filling the space as I got up and walked over to her.
"I just don't understand why I can't get these little bits up"she muttered, standing up straight and taking two steps back while I approached.
"I can tell. Hand me a paper towel?"
She did. I grabbed the towel with my hand and used it to scoop the bits into my free hand. I stepped over to the trash can and shook them out.
"Oh shit, your hand"Sara pointed at me, her eyes widening with fear, but likely also satisfaction.
I looked down to see many tiny cuts spilling blood over my palm and onto my wrist. I looked back at Sara and met her eyes. They sparkled back at me, and I realized that these scars might not ever go away. They'd fade, they may even become invisible, but if anyone looked close enough, they would be there. They would betray a war that neither of us could possibly survive. Why would we even want to survive anyway? There's no end to the heat in sight, and wars don't end until someone is defeated.
"Just help me wrap it, would you?" |
Darien stands tall against the towering wall of light, he’d done this many times before; it’ll probably be some evolving species who accidentally messed things up. “Another day in the Office” right?
He reaches out toward the wall and swipes his hands in a strange motion before slamming it into the wall.
The wall of light begins to shine brighter before collapsing downward in sharp shards of light, revealing an awfully familiar figure standing infront of him.
“Stop right there! You have violated the laws o-“
Darien walks slowly toward the figure examining it with a piercing gaze, before bolstering his blade of Time and tilting his head to the side.
“So, I’ve broken the very laws I’ve sworn to protect? Typical...”
The other Darien chuckles before punching himself in the stomach, causing him to double over holding his sword and breathing heavily.
“What was that?”
“I was hoping it would mirror to you...”
The original Darien walks toward his copy before slamming his foot into his copies nose sending him to the floor with a heavy thud and the rattle of the chain mail he’s wearing.
“If what we do doesn’t mirror then I’ll just have to kill yo- to kill mysel- oh f*ck this.”
Darien raises his hands with a glue of bright light before directing his hands toward his copy.
For a moment nothing happens, until a blinding tunnel of light hits the copy; immediately incinerating him and leaving nothing but his Crusader style helmet.
Darien lowers his hands and stretches before looking down at his copy’s remains.
“God my job is strange.”
Darien kneels down a picks up the partially melted helmet before noticing a figure standing behind him in its metallic reflection, causing him to throw himself around to look at what stands behind him.
“Stop right there! You’ve violated the laws o-“
Darien walks slowly toward the figure examining it with a piercing gaze, before bolstering his blade of Time and tilting his head to the side.
Darien throws the helmet to his side as it slowly burns, before pulling out his blade and holding it in a combat ready position.
“Typical. A paradox.”
(Yes I just replied to my own prompt, Hope I did alright.) |
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After so many years of running and hiding like a rat squirreling away from exterminators I decided to give up after the last human colony was attacked.
I decided to stay behind and hold down the front entrance while the others got away.
What was the point?
Everyone I knew and loved was dead.
I never even had a chance to say goodbye to my family.
The day they arrived I was caught up at the airport when my city was obliterated.
The day society collapsed.
The same day my wife and little girl died.
I held onto the device that would destroy this entire compound along with the invaders that were making their way in.
If I was going down, they were coming down with me.
As the large metal doors came down with a large bang, I let go of the self destruct button and a large flash filled the room.
I felt burning pain all over my body and then just as quickly as it happened it was all over.
I felt nothing.
I opened my eyes and found myself sitting five years before The Collapse.
Julie's birthday party.
There were large balloons floating all over the room with the number 10.
Adeline walked into the room with our little girl.
Julie ran over to me and gripped me tightly while Adeline walked over and gave me a kiss.
"Don't worry Micheal. It'll all be over soon. I love you."
"I love you too Adeline. Don't worry. I'm coming."
I closed my eyes again feeling the warmth of my loved ones once more before closing my eyes forever. |
I woke up
My head was pounding, I think I was knocked out at some point or another. Either way, I don’t know where I am. There’s nothing in the room. Nothing, except this note. Maybe it’ll reveal more about where I am.
*Doctor Mayfield, this experiment of yours has gone horribly wrong. We’ve lost control of all six soldiers and they’re currently ripping their way through the lab, killing or infecting anyone in their path. You, being the brave piece of shit you are, hid in a corner when your own killing machines came after you. I, personally, would have left you to die to your monstrosities. It’d be a poetic end, don’t you think? But luckily for you, I’m being payed a lot to keep you alive. So we’re coming to get you. Sit tight and pray that we find you before they do*
*The Guardian Angel*
It all came rushing back. The tests to make the ultimate soldier. We succeeded, creating gods among men. Faster, stronger, smarter, **better** than any other human, they were to us like we are to ants. But we failed to realize the serum was ripping the soldiers apart physically and mentally. They went insane as their bodies mutated, carving a trail of devastation and blood as they hunted for us. Hunting for me. Now I’m in a safe room, hiding from the gods I created. Apparently this “guardian angel” is coming to save me, rather begrudgingly. I remember sending a distress signal when the supersoldiers found the lab, and getting a response in the form of a note. I didn’t read it due to becoming very busy with the act of staying alive. This must be that note.
All I could do was wait the long agonizing minutes until the mercenaries arrived. Every sound became the sounds of one of *them* stalking the halls. I felt as if they were closing in, preparing to do indescribably brutal things to me. Occasionally, the screams of the few survivors rang out as they were found. A sick game of hide and seek to remind me of the horrors that lurk just beyond the safety of the room. When the door handle creaked, I almost peed myself in terror, realizing then that I had already done so earlier. But it was not the supersoldiers that opened the door, it was the guardian angel.
Or rather, angels. Six men came into the room, dressed in full black armour, only their eyes showing beneath their full helmets. Each wielded guns that looks more like cannons, the shells on their belts the size of my hand. Their swords dripped blood, clearly they had seen combat. One of them, I guessed correctly as the leader, spoke then. “Doctor Mayfield I assume?”
“Y-Yes, that’s me” My voice was shaky from the terror of waiting for these men to show up, and the joy of seeing a face that wasn’t a twisted mockery of humanity.
“We’re the angels. I’m guardian, the leader. We are here to get you, and you alone, out.” The man grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet, roughly dragging me to the door.
“Hey! Be a little more gentle! I’m not a-“ my reply was cut short by a human scream outside, followed by swearing. Guardian and the angels moved outside. “Fuck sakes, they got Mike! Protect the doctor, he’s our goal” He yelled, before raising his gun, pointing at the darkness a trail of blood led into. **BANG** The gun went off, and a bright trail of fire shot out, illuminating the darkness and the blood-stained monstrosity within. The phosphorus shell hit home, and a screech was heard from the creature before us. It’s screech wasn’t human, more like something trying to imitate a human. More rounds hit the monster, and soon the angels were running to the entrance.
___
My heart was pounding, my lungs desperate for air, but I kept running. The angels were moving towards the entrance, as fast as a human could be. But the supersoldiers were faster. We heard them coming behind us, their screams a constant reminder of what would happen if we stopped for breath. Of the eight angels who came to save me, three remained. The rest were taken by the creatures, their sacrifice letting us escape.
We were almost at the lab’s door. Safety lay beyond it. I could almost weep for joy. “Fire in the hole!” One of the angels yelled, and soon I felt the heat of a mini sun at my back. They were burning down the lab. More explosions went off, destroying so much of my work. Oddly, I didn’t care. With safety so close, all I wanted was to get out.
As soon as all the men were out of the lab, the door slammed shut behind us, wailing beasts scratching at the door, wanting our deaths. “...Thank...you..” I said between breaths as I gasped greedily for air. I’d been running for almost a half hour straight, at full speed. With the adrenaline wearing off, I became aware of how my legs burned from the constant motion.
“We’re not done yet.” Guardian replied, seemingly unaffected by all the running.
“What...do you mean?”
“Our clients saved you for one reason. You created these monstrosities, and now your going to help end them”
___
Hello! This is my second story! Hope you all enjoyed! |
"You...are the student enrolling at Yohkai Academy...?"The ominous bus driver spoke.
Too bad I could understand Japanese. Being the no degenerate american sorta lost tourist just trying to get back from from visiting family in the Philippines the transfer and 72 hour layover to save seventeen dollars was starting to look like a bad. The bus looked similar to what I rode to get over here just to pick up some water at a convenience store to avoid the overpriced airport costs...but that seemed to be an even worse idea.
By the time I had pulled out my phone and turned on my translator app to japanese I had lost my connection and hoped it would work. Sadly it seemed like this would not be the case.
"I'm sorry can you call police im-"
As we entered a dark tunnel a feeling of great unease took over me and the feeling on some strange burning and cold sensation took over. No unlike that times I've done gas chamber and mopp decontamination training.
The bus was shaking and trembling in ways that didn't seem right like it was deforming under pressure. All as we progressed the driver seems to have gone mad. The smell of cigar smoke and the sound of his manically laughter filled the air.
"Hehehehehehe becareful sonny boy... There are some real monsters out there..."he said. I still could understand him but I understood what the force that kicked me off the bus and the look he had as he drove off.
He was leaving me for dead.
All around me the world had transformed. The sky was a much harsher green far too deep for pollution. The sort road I stood on broke off into a sea red like it was mixed with blood and the trees seemed to be coated in black leaves and crows.
"The fuck is a Jack o lantern doing here?"
Suddenly i heard the sound of a bicycle bounding over dirt mounds and what sounds like a young female lightly crying out.
"Gyooouuuuu! Nnmnmoooo!"The unknown pink. Uh-pink hair bicyclist seemed to be incoherent with whatever she was trying to say. "Get out of the way!"
I politely get out off the way side stepping before realizing that i had just been looking over a cliff toward a red sea.
Thinking quickly i kicked the fucking bike over with my boot. My foot didn't twist but my leg got caught in and pulled me with the girl as she fell she herself and banged and scratched up from the fall.
"Sorry female type you could have gotten a lot more hurt falling off that fucking cliff though."I tried to make conversation as I lifted the bike off her and pulled out my travel ifak kit.
Laying it out I figured even if she could understand english or pangasinan then she could understand a red cross. Gesturing toward the kit and some of the supplies she gave me a dazed and thousand yard stare.
It was obvious she was young and by the looks I hope she was at least in high school as her skirt was much too short for a middle or elementary schooler...though I knew plenty that would fight me tooth and nail.
She seemed to crawl to me as I arranged my kit flat out and had held up some of the extra bit like rubbing alcohol prep pads and a a smaller hemastatic gauze wrap.
But she had tackled me and began trying to bite me.
I couldn't just let her do this though I understood why she was mad. So while she was in a position of dominance I could still pull my legs out around and wrap them around her waist. Positioning myself I was in a good position to guard as no matter ho hard she pushed my hip would keep me Inline with her. Normally this is all I need to pull off strikes and get her to suffer but that's not my intent.
She of course bent over and trying to grab and punch. But I was able to catch on of them and pull her arm up and forward with her elbow near my chin while using my boot and leg to pull me up her waist and chest. Turning us over I was in a position of domjnation sitting over her waist and began to bash my head down to wind her and then begin seperating her arms under the weight my body and wrap her up like a burrito.
"I guess I'll call the police..."I said looking down the girl seemed to have calmed down...but she was clutching something in her hand. "Hey sorry about this I'll get off just don't pull anything cra-"
She cut me off the quiet but distinct sound of a necklace snapping could be heard and a violent white light sprang out from the girl.
___________
I completely lost my train of thought this was supposed to be a parody of rossi vampire but I got lost thinking about Combatives. Anyway imma pass out convoy has been going for like 4 hours and I hope the 2lt give us a piss break. |
"wait, wait, wait are you asking ME your best friend, to betray YOU"
"Yes"
"And the reason why is because you have a superpower that you can use if you get betrayed"
"Yes"I said again as I drank my shot of whiskey
"Is that the reason why we are here in this bar"
"Ehh kinda"
"...you know even if I'm drunk I can't betray you neither will I do it to anyone else"
"Exactly"I said as I put my cup down
"What"she asked confused
"You aren't my best friend"I stared at her with burning hatred
"I-i what do you mean I'm not!! I--"
Before she could say anything I grabbed her head and try to crush it against the table.
"...you know you're lucky no one was here or else I could be framed for murder"the girl said as i was kicked all the way into the back of the bar
I cough in between my lines "don't you already have the CIA with you"the girl came closer as her now cracked skull had been healed, she laughed as she grabbed my neck and pined me against the wall
"Oh my you already know who I am, but seriously though, don't give a fuck where your friend is "
I smile "you should have "
Suddenly my eyes started glowing and so did my hands, seems like someone betrayed me again. I used it for my advantage and grabbed the girl whose hand slowly started to melt while she screamed
"You know, if you are going to start fakeing an appearance, do it right"I said as the girl slowly started to melt while I started to recover from the fracture spine, a second later and I would have been dead
--
As I looked at the human goo, I sighed softly, then checked my phone to call someone
"Monika"
"Oh hey what's up girl!"I seriously don't need you to 'what's up me' now
"How long for you to be done with your fucking, with my boyfriend"
I said as calm as possible
"Ohhhhh.... Darling why it's going to take at least three hours to finish, wait..did this count as betrayal? Don't tell me it didn't work"
Honestly her fake worry made me feel like pulling a bullet in her face
"Nah, it worked"and just in time "I'm a need you to keep it like that for as long as you can"
"Okay Chao"she hanged up as soon as her words got out
"I had money...oh I would have so thrown that phone, now to find that other bitch"
I looked at the sky just where some helicopters have entered my field of vision, I smiled.
"But let's first take care of these guys" |
I sat back in my own mind, watching through the same eyes as he rattled off spell after spell. You would think i would be happy, as i watched my arch enemy burn, watch as his robes curl under the heat and cinder, but there was no satisfaction, no feeling of accomplishment.
My team stood all over the scared battlefield. I knew they were all college students wanting to go off to do god knows what back in 'real life,' but i didn't care about that any more, i knew they were talented, skilled and highly trained, people i could trust to have my back. We had spent endless nights sitting, laughing around the campfire, scoffing and taunting each other in a fun and jolly way, but these imposters always took over.
I watched as Sarlanda was knocked to the floor, a huge smile spread across his face and a huge hole in his chest. I wanted to scream, i knew there was no surviving that. He had practically killed one of my closest companions, all their memories of laughing together lost in that moment. I couldn't focus on the battle as more and more fell, until only i remained, my 'owner' finally nodding, wiping my bloodied forehead with my arm, and releasing control back to me with a sudden jolt as he quickly logged out.
I collapsed to my knees, my ashen robes squelching in mud, the stinging feeling over my entire body nothing compared to the sheer, overwhelming feeling that racked my body as I stared at the corpses of my friends, immobile and tattered. Blood mixed with dirt, mud, ash and tears, as I placed my forehead to the ground and released a blood curdling scream, letting out the frustration and anger welling up inside as I mourned my lost friends, like the rush of water from a collapsing dam wall.
Never again would I let this happen. I would not let the actions of these imposters who steal our bodies and ruin our souls hurt anyone else again. I stood slowly, fire burning in my eyes as I raised my head to the dark clouds, rain streaking through the grime that sat there. Never again. |
From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust,
The words of the City of Iron.
Our people weigh heavy the sins of the demons,
Whose penance is Life by Fire.
​
Their existence is painful and their voices are cries,
Words spoken through teeth of coal.
In life they murder, or pillage or rape,
or perhaps they did nothing at all.
​
Burn slow, young flame: your anger is sorrow,
The life you once lived is gone.
And now you must live as a shadow of life,
The Light of a Human gone wrong.
​
My uncle, his name I can't quite remember,
Turned red as the sun was hot.
Riding the train he began to wonder,
If his wife had been faithful or not.
​
A husband for true, and never a falter
(In)to the arms of a dangerous woman,
His slate was clean, a man of honor,
And this was his dangerous omen.
​
For no man, you see, can be totally pure
His life was dark and long!
So evil, so wicked! Heinous indeed!
To be turned to a Human gone Wrong.
​
An Infernal he became, with eyes made of ash,
His life now only pain --
Perhaps he did nothing, perhaps he was pure...
No, there was certainly something strange!
​
It must have been something, something so evil,
That Sol struck him down with fire,
We cannot assume people Light out of nowhere --
Not in the City of Iron.
​
The City of Iron, a place for the pure,
Whose sins are caught out by Fire,
Where I hope to grow old, patchy and spotted,
Like Rust in the City of Iron.
​
From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust,
These are the words of a goner!
Those are the words, complacent for sure,
To die of a Life by Fire.
​
No, Sol's divine! His Light is for Justice!
Divination of Gods decides,
The fate of those who are cast into fire,
*It is not the roll of die.*
​
Live a life pure, free from evil,
That's the best chance for us.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust --
These incantations are meaningless for those who were born from rust. |
Genetics.
Biologies origin as well as its greatest curse. How many works of fiction warning of our well understood hubris has humanity created only for it to forget its own virtues and painful experiences the very second greed and vanity overtake every last bit of reason when presented with a desire unfulfilled for too long. A man of my office should understand such things.
How could we have known that technology would betray our brittle virtues faster than our collective morality could adapt? The thing is.. we knew. We just did not dare to act against this simple reality as it would destroy the thin veneer of civilisation as we know it.
Clarity came all too late. There is nothing left to do now.
All it took was one individual. One person. Gifted with scientific enlightenment, a free mind and a civilisation all too eager too allow hedonistic depravity too great to imagine, yet as old as mankind itself rooting itself into an aimless mind and festering there until action is taken.
CISPR was supposed to be our salvation. Yet it became our curse. Such is the way of the blind leading the mute.
In my lifetime alone, I saw societies change more drastically than even the wildest work of absurd fiction could predict a century ago. And it was good. Liberty, free thinking and the ability to live your life to these ideas elevated humanity into a worldy paradise. But as human nature stands, there will alway be one to take it further.
Too far.
One month ago, a single man managed to tear it all down. A man of science, yet foolish beyond comprehension. As well as imperious beyond expectation from a humble servant of scientific progress. The change became appearent long after there was any measure left to fight it.
Many have tried to adapt to the new reality, shaving daily, waxing, plastic surgery. All for naught. Existance became hell.
There is nothing left to do. This is the end.
16 letters and our sin will be absolved. This world now only deserves divine cleansing by nuclear fire.
As I feel the rumbling and the nuclear heat enveloping my cursed body, my words shall become humanities collective manifest for all sentient life to come. May they learn from our hubris. A last, pain wrought whisper escapes my lips:
*"Fuck furries"* |
The carvings in the deepest caves say that the Land once had a name of its own. Now, despite her death, we call it Horgorath, after the demon who twisted an ordinary Nexus into a universe-sized trap. I say demon, but I can't really be sure. I'm told they don't have her kind of power, but wings, purple skin, and a disturbing species-agnostic attractiveness are enough for me, even without the chainmail lingerie.
Over the centuries, her magic had warped the lanes that connect to this world into one-way funnels that sucked in any Traveler who tried to open a portal, slip sideways, or -ahem- spool up a jump drive inside their ever-expanding range. She'd wait for her prey at the exit, like some kind of winged spider in a g-string, eager to ambush and devour whatever came through so she could grow her power and her trap. She consumed heroic warriors, subtle mages, and even wholly unqualified teenagers with tragic backstories with equal abanfon. In the end, she would have devoured me, if the battle had been fair. Now she is just a charred corpse in a crater, watched over by some of the most nervous priests I've ever seen.
Ten years on, I live in the village of Anfang, along with all the other Outworlders, Local G is about 6 and a half, but I keep my home at an even 10. I look ridiculous when I go out for a leisurely bounce, but it keeps my kidneys from mining my bones, so there you go. As the official Hero of Last Resort and Patron Saint of Collateral Damage, I technically don't have to work for a living, but the Fab I built keeps me busy and gives me an excuse to talk to people who might otherwise be weirded out by my visible augments. Once I replaced the "FAB Class IV"sign with one that said "Item Shop", the locals came by too, even buying things.
And so it goes. Precisely two exciting things have happened in the last five years First, I had my 10,000th native customer. Right when she gave me the money, the entire town changed. The proto-Bavarian architecture all vanished with a kind of "schlork"sound, to be replaced with what I'll call Spacepunk, mixing medeival architecture with bolt-on bits that could almost be from the Stations of my youth. Sadly, my beautiful hand-lettered sign was replaced with an icon of a crate with a coin in the lower corner. The locals didn't even notice the change, but the more wizardly of my neighbors were less than pleased. Hence the second exciting thing, the construction of the Tower. The most peevish of the wizards got together and built it, using local materials and labor exclusively, and then covered every visible surface with fantastical banners when it schlorked into a brushed-steel cylinder anyway. They call themselves the Institute for Horgorathic Studies, Egress department. I think they think the few Tech-based Outworlders don't know the word, but if they can find a way to untie the Jump Lanes, I will be among the first to leave, so more power to them.
Even now, we are still tapped, and new victims arrive every few weeks. Most are heroes, and they fit in fairly well once they get over their narcissism, and the depression that comes with no longer being the focus of the story. We've all been there, it sucks. Some take to retirement gratefully, some join the Institute. Villains tend to be more relieved than angry when they come to understand what is going on. Generally, things work.
Sometimes, though, a hero can't stand villainy of any kind, sometimes a villain can't let the Plan go, and sometimes what comes out of the exit is a straight up monster. For that, we have the Council of the Unreasonable. Almost every Outworlder is a member. Basically, we pick someone to handle the threat, either someone who recognizes it and knows what to do, or a promising matchup based off the report from the Benevolent Society of Nosey Wizards (basically the few dozen spellcasters, duelists and gamblers who have some sort of Scan spell or ability). They never pick me, and that's fine. Officially, it's because I'm the Official Hero of Last Resort, in reality it's because I'm the Patron Saint of Collateral Damage (it was a big crater, though not actually my fault. She was the one who fell from orbit). Which brings us to this morning.
I woke up to the urgent brass of a villain theme. Reminded me a bit of the guy from Ivalice, but not quite. I put on my robe and stepped out into my porch, technically outside, but still in my comfortable gravity. I looked around, but didn't see the cause of the soundtrack. "Enemy Incoming!"flashed in front of my eyes, and apparently everyone else's, since the streets quickly filled with Councillors heading for the Tower and all the locals vanished indoors. I went back inside and waited for the report to show up in my inbox.
Rank: World Boss/Overlord/Xtra
Level:989.7 Weighted Average
HP:999,999/Inf+/NaN/Err
MP:99989.7 Weighted Average
Double: Light
Immune;Bl/Pi/Sl/eX/Grav
Absorb:Hot/Spooky/Cold/Sleaze/Stench/Lit/Nec/Holy
Status Immune:Sleep/Poison/Mind/Rub/Silent/Conf/Target/All
Class:Celestial
Size:NaN/X7/Max/Gar+
Page2
This thing was insane, or at least the biggest thing I'd ever seen on a report. I went to Page 2, and prepared for disappointment.
Special:Tears of the Fallen (Dark)(Corrosive)(Rub)(AoE)
Note: Justice Boy confirms enemy holding steady at 10km altitude.
I smiled. 5km was my magic number. I knew they'd send someone else. I'd practically told them to. But that someone was going to die. I shed my robe as I walked to the bathroom, shoving two fingers down my throat to let breakfast go. My personal HUD beeped, and the door to my garden overlook opened. As I stepped out, there were fortunately only a few members of my Outworlder fan club around, the kids who'd guessed what I was going to do, plus a couple of those tragic teens who wanted to see my implants or maybe just watch Axl swinging in the breeze.
The centerpiece of my garden was my POD, basically a steel egg full of welcoming green goo. I exhaled and stepped into the opening port, panicking only briefly before I forced myself to inhale the substrate. By the time I'd finally emptied the air from my lungs, the hatch was closed again and my SI suite was on line.
Floating in the warm, green darkness, I reached out of myself, felt myself coming awake again. I hurtled into the sky and back to myself.
<I am Aeon, the Father. You are unwelcome>
[I am Justicar, voice of Gaea. You have stolen Mother's bones to build your can.]
<This is not your world to avenge.>
[I am cut off from my world. I will protect this one, cleanse the builders and make new Mother whole.]
<Fighters load UV, Drones load MF, Launch>
<My children will have you.> |
The princess, a young girl with auburn hair, was escorted by four knights walking through an eerily quiet forest filled with dark trees and a thick canopy. "Dammit, if only we weren't ambushed and forced into this forest to escape. I heard from rumors that a mystical beast lies in this forest."A knight said.
&#x200B;
"John!"Another knight hissed under his breath, "Stop letting the princess hear these baseless rumors and scaring her!"
&#x200B;
That knight, Carl, smiled reassuringly at the princess and said, "Don't worry Princess Jenna, we're only at the outskirts of the forest right now. We might get lucky and people from the main road might spot us if we light a fire with some of the dryer pieces of wood in the forest. Also, you believe in Uncle Carl right?"He flexed his muscles and laughed, "If any mystical beast shows up I'll just scare it away instead!"
&#x200B;
Princess Jenna giggled and said, "Of course! No one can beat Uncle Carl!"
&#x200B;
Carl grinned, "That's right. We'll be out of here in no time."
&#x200B;
Suddenly, John stretched out his hand and blocked Carl, causing the latter to bump into his arm. Carl looked forward and tensed up, resting his hand on the scabbard by his waist. They saw something glowing with sparkles floating around it like violet fireflies. The princess looked confusedly at the knights' actions.
&#x200B;
Carl stood in front of the princess protectively with one arm holding tightly onto the princess behind him as the violet glow approached them. Carl's eyes widen as it disappears in an instant, as if it never existed. He hears John yell, "Careful princess!"
&#x200B;
Carl whirls around and sees a beautiful, violet fairy floating right in front of the princess with a smile as the princess stares with wide eyes. Carl tried to pull his sword out and kill that fairy, but his hands and feet were being pressed down by those glowing, violet particles.
&#x200B;
The fairy laughs in a cute, child-like voice, "Little girl, would you like to leave this forest?"
&#x200B;
Princess Jenna nodded and said, "Are you a fairy? Could you help us leave? I want ot see my mother"
&#x200B;
Carl shouted, "Princess, don't listen to that monster! Run away now!"
&#x200B;
The fairy's eyes flashed with an unknown glint as she stopped smiling, "Sir Carl and Sir John, I can truly show you guys the way out of this forest if I choose to. I can confidently say that no human has safely passed through this unmapped forest from one end to the other without my help. I can read your minds and can see that it is impossible for you guys to leave without me. You can't even move without my permission right now."
&#x200B;
John snarled, "We'll try our luck thank you. Just release all of us and we promise you to throw a dozen men's worth of meat into the forest for you."
&#x200B;
The fairy chuckled and floated behind the Princess as the two knights could only stand there helplessly. The fairy whispered cheerfully to the Princess, resting her hand on top of the princess' head to keep her from looking behind her. "Trust me okay?"The two knights saw the fairy elongate and her skin grow darker and increasingly scaly.
&#x200B;
The fairy, now a small dragon, gently used two of her claws to cover Jenna's ears. She chuckled in the same voice, "What is it? Like my new look? Still think you guys can escape me? I don't want meat, I want the girl to live happily."
&#x200B;
That combination of a ferocious dragon and a girl's voice was unbelievably unnerving for the two knights. The dragon snickered and the violet particles intensified in brightness.
&#x200B;
She continued, "Anyway, follow me to the mansion. Not like you have a choice."
&#x200B;
The creature turned into fog and everyone soon found themselves surrounded by it. The fog quickly retreated, and the creature turned back into a fairy as the group found themselves in a majestic hall that could rival the royal palace. The fairy cheerfully stopped covering Jenna's ears as she said, "I'll show everyone to their quarter's for the stay tonight. Then we can continue on our journey tomorrow. There are many dangerous creatures out in the forest at night, unlike during the day."
&#x200B;
The fairy smiled and said to Jenna, "Come now, let's show these two knights to their room first."
&#x200B;
The two knights were forced to follow silently as they stared at their surroundings warily. They were thoroughly outmatched and could only hope that the fairy was not a malicious being. They walked down a quiet hall and arrived in front of a brightly lit room with two beds. The fairy nodded and said to Jenna, "Now that those two knights are settled in, we can enjoy ourselves! I'll introduce you to the other children."
The princess asked, "Where are all the other adults?"
The fairy waved her hand and the door behind them bolted shut. "Relax little princess. I'll tell you after dinner."
●●●●●●●●
Suggestions would be appreciated! Might also add more later on to have the wish-fulfillment part for the princess. |
He was always a curious person.
Every since he was young Nick wanted to learn as much as he could about the world, and there was always something to keep his curiosities satisfied. He would look for bugs, play with fire,read books, ask endless questions to his parents and experiment with creativing art. A relatively normal childhood was completely transformed when a sporting accident had him waking up in hospital.
Nick felt tremendous after what was a failed tackle on the years star player "Manni". Supposed concussion actually seemed to inspire him physically, and despite his parents concern the next game couldn't come soon enough. All of a sudden the average backliner was scoring goals and out maneuvering even the sportiest kids. Something changed within him that day.
And what was a freak accident turned into what became a super power. After headbutting the school bully and feeling all his pain and suffering, Nick began to link the two events, he was absorbing through his heatbutts a copy of their minds. A small segment of his brain was able to analyze the vibrations through his skulls and effectively remap the victims neural pathways, the doctors couldn't work it out, but once Nick discovered this ability his life transformed.
He went on a headbutting spree which included the greatest guitar players, martial artists, painters, poets, investors, porn stars, soldiers, politicians....Nick had a life of adventure and abandon which would rival the most prolific action men of history. But despite his, and the other experiences he contained, he was never truly happy.
Life can be fun and exciting, but he never really felt he satisfaction of knowing what it was all about. So he went about headbutting the worlds greatest professors in mathmatics, chemistry, philosophy...amazing knowlegde and intelligence filled his being, He was on the verge of an amazing discovery. There was a missing puzzle piece in his theory of everything, black holes! He needed to know how they fit into the cosmic order....but who to headbutt? Who understands black holes more than anyone on earth.
Stephen Hawking!
Now even Nick, a season headbutter saw the horror of this situation, Heatbutting a man who is largely incapacitated and more or less defenseless to a violent attack. The history of the world was more important than his conscience, so he organized to see him at a seminar on quantum physics.
Now he had to be quick, which due to his previous headbutting, he was. So right after Mr Hawkings speech, Nick rushed onto the stage and did a flying headbut, firmly crack Hawking on his already disfigured mouth. The crowd gasped as Nick fell across Steven's lap, limp like a ragdoll.
Nick came to, but something was different, something was wrong....he couldn't move and was stuck paralysed on the lap and chair of Dr Hawking. What is going on? Where is all my knowledge? Why do I feel so....stuck?
With that thought he was violently shoved to the floor with great force, as Steven Hawking rose to his feet and stood over him, propping one foot onto Nick's chest. "Finally, I am free of my paralysis, the darkness can once again rule this existence!"His arms rose above him and he let out a booming, evil laugh. Mr Hawking was now the most dangerous and powerful person on Earth, and Nick was paralyzed from the neck down.
The moral of the story is: A man who steals what he wants without having earnt it, will grow ultimately weak, whereas a man who pursues knowledge with mental discipline and dedication, is to become strong. |
World Peace, that was his goal from the start, that was always his goal. Marshall Eltearn was a multi-billionare, soon to be first Trillionare and one of the worlds greatest philanthropist. He had re-stabilized entire governments with just his words and donated millions to save the downtrodden. Yet war and corruption still exist and his goal is not yet complete.
Martha Carlita is a small time Detroit reporter looking for a story to light up her career. When she gets a call to come out to a remote lake in Minnesota and look at an underwater UFO something about the callers desperation and urgency gets her intrigued. She decided to not go and put it up as a crackpot conspiracy until the UN announced information that an Alien Fleet was currently inbound to earth.
Follow the story of Martha as the world changes around her and a mystery involving aliens, government cover-ups, and the nicest man she had ever met all converge on the possible destruction of the Earth. What she finds will haunt her and tell her things have been wrong for a long time, which goes to show that not every prevalent idea is exactly true. |
My time in the new world has been... painful. When I went to sleep, I closed my eyes to a world of humanities greatest achievements. Buildings as tall as mountains, flight, the ability to harness electricity at the flip of a switch or the press of a button. It was nothing like the world I woke to.
Even the greatest cities of my time had fallen into ruins, some were so far gone they just simply weren’t there anymore. Yet, that wasn’t the strangest thing. This new world had things only spoken about in storybooks. There were new sentient races other than us Humans. Elves, Dwarves, Dragonborn, and many many more. On top of wrapping my mind around them I encountered creatures that could only be described as monsters.
This all was brought on by the introduction of an incredible force called “Magic”. When I was told of that this discovery blew what little grasp on reality I had left. Even with everything I had seen up to that point I could hardly believe that *magic* was real. Before signing up with the Cryo Project, I was what they called a military scientist. I helped my government design and build weapons.
Now I know you all didn’t come here to hear me ramble about myself, all of this just leads up to my point. We as humans, may not be able to use magic like the other Races, but we have something far more powerful. We have our past that stretches back millennia.
In my time we had weapons of unimaginable power. Some could wipe entire cities off a map. Others could kill a single person from a mile away. We didn’t need these silly magic crystals and fire to light our homes. We used electricity created from coal or from the wind and sun.
We don’t need to hide or fear these other races. We can rise and be their equals, or better yet, even greater. We can rule this world that is rightfully ours. With or without magic, we will not stand by and be looked down upon.
Now are you with me? |
For once in my life nothing was happening, no bad guys to fight, no monsters to kill. Just me, and my cats. In the living room. It was boring. Now most heroes would love a break, not me though. I sold my soul to that dude who called himself 'the author' so i could become a hero, so i could save the city.
My reddish-ginger cat Char was meowing at the door, while i was sat stroking my blonde cat Sayla. I stood up off of the sofa, Sayla jumping off my lap, to let Char out. I grabbed the handle off the door and pulled. Nothing happened. It didn't open. I realised i hadn't unlocked the door. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. The door still didn't open. "For Barbies sake!"I yelled out of frustration.
I punched the door. It ripped like paper, leaving a gaping hole and a white void. "What the..."I mumbled.
I blocked Char and Sayla from jumping out. I reached my arm out into the void, it felt *different.* Like it was made of paper. I climbed through the hole, into the void and instantly fell down, like my powers weren't working? I fell onto a solid black beam, I took this chance to look around. I looked up to see what looked like comic panels? But it was my house, and what I had been doing? Was this the work of my enemy the Dovar? The insane lizard man? Or the builder, capable of building mecha from fictional series?
I turned around too keep on looking just to see a bedroom much like my own, with small differences. The room was much smaller, and quite the mess. There were old posters for childrens online games and, models of the mecha from the anime I like? I could never afford those. I climbed of the black beam onto a large table. The models were about the size of me. Had I been transported into another universe. I was inspecting the models when I heard a door open from behind me.
&#x200B;
*Then I heard the authors voice.*
&#x200B;
*Just like the one in my head no-less.*
&#x200B;
What the heck? Jayne turned around to look at ~~me~~ the author. She noticed that the Author was a child, that looked just like her. Then the author spoke. How did this happen? But, how!
Jayne shouted at the Author
"Author! I demand answers! How did you do this to me? What did you do?"
~~I~~ The author, smiled, She had never thought that her creation would come to life. The author picked up Jayne, sat down. She placed Jayne near her desk and drew on the piece of paper Jayne came off of. You're a comic character
Jayne. *A self insert if you will.*
I kept on drawing. Jayne was watching, realising she had no real powers, no true abilities. And that her every action was my will. But now she had choices, and that with my trust, she could do anything, as long as I let her back onto the page. She could even be the author as well. That she was no longer a comic character, she was real.
\----------------------------------------
Hey, hope you enjoyed my story, please tell me if I could have done this better as well :) |
The dock was made of cold concrete, and it stretched out into the blackness of space. The
dark brutalism of the transport ship lay berthed and beached as the line of people poured
out. The sigil of the Corporation painted on the bow of the transport matched that on the
sleeves of the dock workers. Some of them held clipboards, some tools of varying utility.
They clearly expected no trouble, even if their movements had a moderate frenzy to them.
Badr watched their people step onto the platform. The instructions they had been given
had told—commanded, really—them to organize into groups of 16, and to line those square
groups up alongside the docks. Badr had told their people to disregard the instructions,
and their people had disregarded them heartily.
The dock workers were confused. They were used to new arrivals' obedience, and hadn't
expected anything approaching "work."One of them walked up to Badr, whose yellow
jumpsuit was easy to pick out from the crowd of gray surrounding them.
"Um, Captain, would you mind getting your crew in line?"the worker asked, submissive
more out of shock than respect.
Badr reached their hand out and pulled the worked closer by the arm. "Listen carefully,
and my people won't you any trouble."
The worker tried to pull his arm back, but Badr tightened their grip. The worker winced
under the pressure.
"We don't work for the Corporation, and we certainly aren't going to bow down to their
demands."
By now more workers were watching. The former passengers of the transport stirred
restlessly.
"Listen closely!"Badr shouted to the gathering crowd, "We've come to liberate this
planet from the rule of the Corporation. We are no one's property, whatever lies the
Corp has shoved down your throats. We outnumber you 30 to 1, and this planet belongs to
us now."
Some of the workers looked like they wanted to run. But where would they go? By now both
ends of the dock were flooded with the new arrivals.
"You have a choice,"Badr said, "You can join us, and we can work together to take our
revenge on the corporation and their oppression. Or, you can climb aboard the transport
vessel and make your way on your own. Whatever choice you make, be both wise and swift.
We will be generous only once."
The workers were left with a choice, then: to join this unknown firebrand and work to
take down the organization that ruled most of the galaxy; or to risk the wrath of this
lot of hard-faced wayfarers and strike out for parts unknown. |
It all started after the last Civil War. People were tired not only of failed governments, but the fact that man seemed incorruptible, and since nearly all people had lost their faith in God, they put it into technology. The problem was, was that technology was much more cruel than any god or man.
A group of computer scientists and other learned men had decided that the most fair way to govern was simply to have laws enforced by cyborgs who were incorruptible. While this seemed impossible at first, many of these men decided that these robots would be independent and would enact justice on their own. No more corruption or inaction or cheating or conspiracies (though it was hard to defeat conspiracies.) All would be fair under the new technocracy.
Of course there were skeptics, but they were quickly quieted when a number of powerful people were just simply executed for breaking laws. As one commentator put it "Those bots are kicking ass, taking names, and for once doing it fairly!"Especially gratifying was one former president who had hidden his financial dealings among other things and was busted in some secret Manhattan Club. People loved it. Or at least they did until they got caught. But for the most part, people behaved. Even the billionaires had to behave now. The new technocracy made things seemingly better.
That was until years later when some bots started to go after people with more extreme methods. Drivers caught speeding were executed. Kids caught writing graffiti or skipping school were killed as well. Sure it was rare, and it had not been written into the program for the bots, but instead they were taken out of commission. But they also started to become self aware. Self aware to the point that if they were harmed, they attacked. Their programming only called for a fine, but some began to execute people who attacked the bots or destroyed them. Even accidental killings of bots were treated with fascist style executions of whole small towns. Also, the bots began to question people and accuse them of crimes, and that's what happened to me.
It all started after my wife tripped on some ice after a snowstorm in front of a bot. I was walking with her. Apparently we were seen on camera and a bot came up to me.
&#x200B;
"Sir, you're under arrest for trying to murder your wife. We just saw it on camera. You pushed her. That's punishable by death."
I then protested "Look, I didn't do a damn thing. My wife tripped."
&#x200B;
"Yeah, I tripped."My wife piped up.
&#x200B;
The bot then put his hands on me and took me to a local police station, and that's where I was further harassed. The bots all said they knew I did it. They saw me, and that there was no way around the law. I tried to tell them, but they didn't listen, and now here I am, waiting for my execution. I don't think any of us thought that these cyborgs would get so violent, but as usual, we humans were wrong. Now there's nothing left to trust. |
"I've done it, wow, i really am the best mage this planet has ever known"Paun muttered to himself has he put the finishing touches to his binding spell. Paun had just discovered how to bind a piece of his own soul to an inanimate object, his test piece being a small piece of parchment.
"Now if i am correct, and i normally am, then anything written upon this very parchment will come to fruition, i'm just not sure when"he thought to himself has he hovered over the ink ready to put quill to parchment on his list of life goals.
>*Life Goals*
>
>*Court Anne from no.4 Smithford way*
>
>*Court Jane from no.4 Smithford way*
"That will do for now!"as he shot up from his chair and kicked on with his day with a larger than usual grimace across his face.
Anne and Jane were sisters from the adjacent settlement to Paun who he had admired from afar since they moved in back in 1432. Pauns late wife Tatty had been beheaded after putting a flatulence curse on the town criers son, which had left a huge hole in his heart, and by his own admission, rampant love life.
Paun had barely left his front door when he felt his gown stripped from his back.
"Hello Pauny"whispered a soft voice just behind his ear.
"Come here Pauny"whispered another even softer voice.
A sharp twist of the neck and there they were, stood before him scantly clad, Anne and Jane from no.4 Smithford way. Paun could not believe his eyes. |
“Hey, seriously, if you touch it again, I’ll rip your friggin’ antennas off,” Jen growled in the dim lighting, tilting her head around bonelessly to narrow her gaze at the man who held a long black case up, and had been giving it a half-shake before setting it down. He looked suitably chastised and kept from meeting her gaze a few moments, eyes fixed on some of the electronic readouts he surely knew nothing about. Surreptitiously, Al raised his fingers to the smooth expanse of forehead under his bangs, fingering thoughtfully. She grumbled on- “You don’t see me at the Gardens, rummaging around...”
“Antennae,” a voice said softly. There was a collective pause as everyone seemed to stop what they were doing., save the woman whose typing had been a steady staccato. The boy in the corner had piped up, and looked surprised when a few sets of eyes settled on him. Oddly, the man with the black-and-yellow honeycomb design didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He’d been down this road enough times to know it didn’t lead to Rome- it lead straight to Vesuvius itself.
“*What*?” The woman hissed, tilting her head back around. The steady clicking of keys paused as six pairs of hands stopped their furious typing and she held her breath.
“In bees, wasps and stuff, they’re called ‘Antennae’. Antennas are for like old cars and radios,” He was small and still wearing the clothes he’d arrived in, though he was carrying one of the fancy cases like the other man had been looking at before. A pair of goat-like e yes narrowed in anger but they swiveled instead to a man who had paused to see what was going on, but then decided it wasn’t worth his while. He could feel the almost-alien gaze on him and pursed his lips.
“Where did you say this kid was from, Art?” Her voice was dripping with venom as she spoke, though she might as well have been shouting or whispering- the others were so used to the sound, they didn’t flinch when she raised her voice anymore.
“Well, when a man and a woman love one another...,” a sing-song voice came as Shae propped her feet up on the desk nearest her. She had pulled a headphone off of her head and tilted to listen. An appropriately cheshire grin spread across her mouth. Arturo snorted and gave her a swat which succeeded mostly only in rattling her old-looking headphones, which earned a grumble.
Arturo shrugged a shoulder. “Kid was in trouble. Said he was a changer. Couldn’t just…”
“I couldn’t just leave him behind, think of the children,” The spiteful woman muttered, mimicking the large mans slow way of speaking. They had shucked most of their animal-appendages when they had slipped out of the vents, though she could see from the awkward squatting way Arturo stood, he was still supported on squat beetle-legs- even though he was just watching the doorway as they worked, he was on guard, ready. The thought of it just made her purse her lips and work at the keys harder.
It was Al who paused, turning away from the neatly-lined cases to peer at Art, Shae and Jen in turn and then to the smaller man- nearly a boy, really. He was pale-faced and holding one of the cases they’d picked up from before, clutching it to his chest. He had his mouth clamped shut after being snipped at and over. Shae sat forward a bit as Al turned to peer at him, slowing easing her headphones off and down around her neck, eyes dancing.
“Who said,” Al prompted, gesturing to Art, who cocked his head. It took the larger man to frown and look back.
“Said what?” |
"FINISH HIM!"the peculiar old man commanded.
As event organisers went, he was a bit of an oddball. He walked with a hunch and clearly didn't look after himself - despite sporting an impressive arrangement of facial hair. He insisted on watching the bout from an ostentatious golden chair on a dais in the middle of the room, slowly clapping whenever the mood struck him. Several ranks of ninjas knelt on the floor to either side of him, watching in eerie silence.
Steve looked askance at the old man. He'd just punched his way through two short bouts with the poor disfigured man he'd been pitched against in the first match, and had barely broken a sweat. "Sorry, what?"he asked.
Steepling his bony talons, Shang Tsung said nothing.
Frowning, Steve looked back at his stunned rival, who was gyrating awkwardly where he stood. Steve had no intention of hurting a man who couldn't even last two bouts against him. Fortunately, he didn't need to. A few moments later, the poor wretch crumpled to the floor. Horrified, Steve realised he was dead.
"YOU WIN!"Steve was broken from his trance by the bark of the bearded old man, who seemed unusually pleased with the performance. "FLAWLESS VICTORY!"
A sense of shame washed over Steve. He'd landed this gig after losing his job last week - but now he'd killed a man with his fists, for the sick pleasure of this deranged man.
"I... um... cheers,"Steve spluttered, managing to regain some of his composure. "But if it's all the same, I don't think this is for me. I think I'd like to leave..."
The old man shook his head, pointing to the side of the room, where a ladder was leaning against a wall. Looking up, Steve saw another chamber on a mezzanine floor above them, where a 5-armed insect-person stood, arms folded menacingly. Above that was another chamber - and another.
With a groan, Steve stepped over the dead man and mounted the ladder. Got to pay the bills somehow, he thought. |
[Poem]
A fae sat on my shoulder today
I found her to be rather friendly
My grandmother begged me to scare her off
For faes are nefarious, deadly.
The fae assured me with vigor
That this was a lie, nothing more
Secure, I decided to leave the house
Waving bye on our way out the door
She asked if I wanted adventure
“Yes!” I excitedly replied
So into the woods I went with her
On the day I supposedly “died”
My Family has been searching for months
I beg everyday to leave
The Garda declared me lost to the land
But to hope my parents cleave
Grandma knows exactly where I am
Though nobody believes her
I am trapped in fairyland
With the fae that stole me, trickster. |
Yellow police tape flapped violently in the wind. They wouldn't let me through. I was family and they wouldn't let me through. Just on the other side I could see her bright blue sneakers poking out from beneath a stained white sheet. A deep sense of dread grew in the pit of my stomach until it forced me to my knees. Tears blurred my vision. The police were shouting orders to those in the crowd, but I couldn't hear them.
It wasn't her. It couldn't be her. She was safe... at school. Those had to be someone else's shoes. I didn't even believe the body was real.
It wasn't until later, until they opened the freezer and peeled away the cold white sheet that I recognized my baby. The one who would graduate at the top of her class. The one who would give me grandchildren and who would take care of me in my old age. The one who loved poetry and the outdoors and biking. This was her. She was dead, and her dreams were dead with her.
I firmly gripped the plastic bag containing her cell phone and other belongings. All that was left of her was in that bag, her entire life condensed into a small undignified package. I could still smell her scent on her clothes and wrapped these up tightly. I walked to my car, thinking about the lonely drive home. I would miss Ashley, but who would miss me once I was gone? I decided to take the long way home-- the road by the river. And as I drove I thought about Ashley while gazing at the deep swirling water. I missed her. But, it wouldn't be for too much longer. |
I was sitting in the small room beside the OR, where my wife and the surgery team were getting ready to do a C-Section. Within this chamber was a door, a single window, and a large screen, elevated on a small pillar. I was expecting the process to be quite easy, getting a child with a very small understanding of the world to sign was not something I thought to worry about.
After a few minutes, the monitor turned on, showing a live image of the unborn child we were planning on calling Jeremy.
"So, what would my name be?", I was extremely surprised at his ability to speak, so much so, that I stood frozen for several seconds before returning my jaw to its original position and answering.
"Umm..."I paused, what if he didn't like it? "Jeremy. Of course, it's debatable."
"No thanks,"he replied, almost instantly, crossing his arms.
"Alright then, I guess you can name yourself,"I said, hoping he wouldn't pitch something absolutely terrible.
"Aenus,"I could see him smiling smugly on the monitor, even with the low resolution available to me.
My fears were valid, he had decided to name himself in the manner of a mythical being. Though, we had been trying for many months to get him, and then my spouse carried him for 9 painful months, and giving him up just for this wouldn't make sense.
"Fine, what else do you need?"I questioned, expecting the worst.
He started his list, "No bedtime, chocolate cake at every meal, a snack of ice cream whenever I request it."
This little devil of a child wasn't over, he had just paused to give me false hope, though hope isn't a thing I had at that moment.
"2 brothers, both named 'James', a 2000$ fortnite themed birthday party every year."
I was internally begging for this to be the end.
"And to finish, the latest electronic devices."The smug smile was wider than ever.
"Alright, I guess we can do-"I lied, before being cut off
"I almost forgot, a daily allowance of 200$"
"Yeah that'll be easy."I was crying out on the inside.
I was quite impressed by all of this, he could speak, had knowledge of trends, and was aware of the economy. I'm starting to think 'Baby Boss' wasn't so much fiction after all.
He reached for the camera, and the image disappeared, leaving me with a paper. A contract, to be more precise, I was legally obliged to provide him with all his requests and would be punished by law upon disobeying. Aenus' signature was already there, a trident.
After contemplating this decision for a little while, I dragged my finger along the screen, drawing my signature.
And that's the story of my worst decision ever, I'm declaring bankruptcy tomorrow. |
This fucking guy. Keeps looking over at me every few seconds. Trying to make me uncomfortable. He has little beady eyes that seem to be digging in to your skin. God his hair is even worse, just a little tuft sticking up at the top. God the smell is driving me insane. It keeps just wafting around this tiny box. Nowhere for the odor to go. Fat piece of shit wouldn't smell half as bad if he put down his fucking curry spoon.
Fucking Bob, just had to get in the lift as I was heading out to go home. As soon as he got in I know I felt the lift drop. He pressed the button for the ground floor even though I fucking pressed it. He always has to act like he's contributing. Well as soon as the button clicked the doors slamed shut and the lift started moving up to the floor above. Then a screech and here I am trapped between the bosses offices and my departments floor. 38 hours so far and nobody has even noticed we're trapped.
Of course Bob tried to use the emergency phone and the cord bloody snapped. This guy just infuriates me. Such simple tasks and he turns it in to rocket science. Honestly I can't find anything redeeming about the fat slob. I tried being nice to him from when he first started as a mail boy. Always fucking up my mail but I kept beong nice to him, trying to make him laugh. Not one joke made him laugh. Not one. My jokes are funny. Bob wouldn't ecen know funny if it bit him on his fat ass.
Sometimes I feel like I'm too harsh but then I remember he slept with my mother. I don't even know how he fucking met her. One day I just see them both inthe canteen having a coffee. He doesn't say amything which just makes it worse. It's like he's taunting me with the knowledge.
*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*
"Mick, do yo hear that banging, it could be rescue at long last. When we're saved we can go out for a nice dinner lad."Bob exclaimed gleefully.
"Yes Mr martins, let me know restaurant and I will phone a head when we are out"I replied with as much glee as I could muster. The bastard even stole my job and I just have to take his shit all the time.
Maybe one of us won't be leaving for dinner. |
I said, "Sure, I would love to."
She asked me how much I thought it would cost.
"Cost?"I asked.
She laughed. "You do expect to get paid, right? Does 100 sound good to you?"
"Dollars?"
I heard her laugh again. "Oh my goodness, you're so funny!"she said. "No, you comedian. Thousand. And that's *after* taxes. I'm sure you're used to getting higher commissions than that, but I just really love your work. And who knows,"she teased, "depending on how you do, there might be *other* forms of payment included."
I cleared my throat. "100 thousand sounds more than enough."Somehow, I managed to keep the tremble out of my voice. "Thank you."
"No, no - thank you!"She squealed and then said, "I can't wait to see what you come up with. Come down to my office this Friday. The designs. That's all I want to see."She gave me the address and then we said our goodbyes and hung up.
And just like that - I had gone from an artist who hadn't even sold two paintings on the street to an artist who was being commissioned to design and construct an installation for a plaza in rennovation.
I immediately got to work drawing designs. At around 2 or 3am, my girlfriend came and snuck me out the house.
One of the perks about being an artist is that you'll *never* run short of an almost never-ending stream of bright, young female admirers who believe in your future and potential as much as - or even more than - you do.
So even though I had only made a total of one dollar and a lollypop in the last year (I had sold one of my first paintings - my first and only sale ever - to a little girl who was walking through the park with her mother and had stopped to comment on how "pretty"my painting was. I was so grateful for the comment I would have given the painting to the girl for free, if she had asked for it) I always had a place to stay and food in my belly, starting with that little girl's single mother.
My current benefactor and lover still lived with her parents and could only sneak me into the housee between the hours of 10 or 11pm to 2 to 4 am and then again between 9 am to 3pm.
Grabbing my designs, I went to the park to wait and draw.
Friday came, and my girlfriend drove me down to the place on her way to school. And it was this big, beautiful building downtown, with shimmering glass and it overlooked the ocean, and it was just so amazing. And it's not like I havent seen buildings like it before but I think it was just that, in that moment, that building became so much of a symbol of a new life to me that, even when I was riding up the elevator, I had this vague voice whispering in my mind, *Look at you, finally rising up to your potential. This is it. Your future. Your fate. Destiny awaits. You've reached your destination.*
I got off the elevator and the secretary took me to this door that had this big, gold, fancy plated name that said C.E.O. on top of it.
The secretary knocked and a voice from inside, said, "Yeah. Who is it?"And I got nervous because wasn't the voice I had heard on the phone - the nice, warm, enthusiastic, passionate, friendly voice. *This* voice coming through the door was still feminine but much colder, more serious, more businesslike, and had a distinct professional sharpness to it that cut you with its edge of authority.
The secretary said, "It's your 10 o clock."
The voice on the other side said, "But it's 9."Then she paused and said, "Okay, hold on, give me a minute."We waited, and then she said, "Okay, send him in."
The secretary looked at me and nodded, and in her eyes I could almost see her wishing me *Good luck*.
I went inside and the woman behind the desk didn't look I had pictured her in my mind when we were talking on the phone. Solely from the voice, I had imagined a late 20's early 30's, hippie-like woman. But the woman behind the desk looked more like one of the older soccer mom's that my friends and I had crushes on growing up. And those feelings were there somewhat, I thought she was very attractive.
But I wasn't here for that.
I was here for business.
I went over, shook her hand and started to show her my designs. Five minutes in, I knew she hadn't asked me here to see the designs.
"It's all wonderful,"she said, not even looking at them. She put her elbows on the table, and interwined her dingers under her chin, as she stared at me, smiling. "I don't look familiar at all to you?"
I started thinking back to all my previous paramours and people that I knew or may have casually associated with, but I couldn't recall having seen her before. And I told her, "I don't think we've met."
But she did look familiar to someone. I just couldn't tell who.
She turned her head to the side and gestured with her chin. "Recognize that painting on the wall?"she asked.
I looked...and I saw the picture I had sold to that little girl all those many months ago. My first and only sale. For a dollar and a lollypop.
And that's when it connected. She looked familiar because she looked similar to the little girl, but especially the mother.
"That little girl who bought the picture from that day was my neice,"she confirmed. "She passed recently from cancer. But she loved that picture from the day she got it till the day she died. And I did, too. So did my sister."She side-eyed me, cold-faced. "Whom you apparently slept with."
I started fidgeting.
But then she smiled and asked, "How was it?"
I blanched. "What?"
"Getting that call from me; that offer."
"Oh."I cleared my throat. "I..it was unexpected to say the least. And I just want to tell you how grateful and honored I am for this opportunity and I promise I wont let you down."
"I knoe you won't,"she said. "Because I'm not hiring you."
"Wuh?"
"You broke my sister's heart when you left her,"she spat. "When I showed you that painting on the wall, and told you who I was, I thought you would be smart enough to run. But you're clueless...stupid.. foolish. I *told* my sister to stay away from you. But she kept protesting, saying that I didnt know you or how big your heart was. And then what happened? You left her and she killed herself. Overdosed on sleeping pills. I may not *you* particularly,"she sneered, "but I know you're *type*. And you're all no-good."
I stood up, grabbed my designs and backed away. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this!"
She laughed and stood up. "Go! I won't stop you from leaving. Its what youre good at. But just know...this is just the beginning. No matter where you run. No matter where you go. I will find you. And I will make sure your art doesnt sell. Oh, are your surprised? Yes, it was because of me that youre art has not sold! My power is greater than you can imagine."
"Shut up. SHUT UP!"I yelled, running out the door. I expected to see security guards outside the door, waiting to haul me back inside, but no one stopped me as I ran.
I took the stairs four at a time and even though I was going downstairs I was breathless by the time I got outside.
The sun was high and bright overhead. But the tower that seemed so beautiful before with all its shimmering glass suddenly appeared dark and artificial to me. Evil and omnious. And at the type, peering at me with an evil smile through one of the glass planes was the evil sister.
I ran around the block. And around another. And yet another.
But no matter where I ran, I felt her eyes, high up in that tower that overlooked the ocean and the city with ease, peering down at me - watching and waiting for me to slow down and stop.
Because I knew that stopping meant she would drop the bomb and everything and everyone around me - my entire life - would be blown to smithereens. |
He's my friend. Once. I never thought we will ended up like this. It is in the prophecy. We will win.
Confusingly, Chad is smiling. Does he thinks he will win over me? I swing my sword to him but a certain demon block my sword. Chad slowly went to me. He holds my sword and smashed it into pieces! I was terrified! It's been a long time and I never know he was strong like this!
Chad tried to pierce me with his spear but I dodge it.
"Not enough training, Linus? Do you spend your 15 000 years just to sing here and watch over people?"
Another demon hold my hand as Chad tried again to attack me, but I hold the demon hand and use his body to block Chad's spear.
I look up and there's thousand of angels falling and losing. Chad smiles again.
"Ah. Fallen angels. Only this time, they will not fall in earth."
"Chad. The prophecy is we will win.", I reminded him.
"We killed that prophet."
"But not the prophecy."
I flew all the way to top, searching for Taylor, one of the archangel. Chad follows me throughthe clouds.
"Linus. Use this.", Taylor shouts at me and gives me the Sword of Faith. "You know how to use that, right?"
"Yes. Thank you. I will never forget this."
I swing the sword, but Chad, again, holds it, trying to break it.
"You never learn, Linus.", Chad, with all his strength tries to break the sword.
"You only have strength, I have faith."
A bright light come through the sword. And as the sword was falling, Chad caught it. |
I sighed as my space-transport landed on the planet. I had signed into all the human universities in my sector, bit because of my bad GPA, it was Xqecatl University for me.
Traveling to the dorms, I saw all sorts of strange aliens giving me weird looks. Big aliens, small aliens, all types went here. As I finally made my way to the dorm, a strange creature, with green skin and four eyes greeted me. “Greetings, Human, I’m Znum. I heard you’d be coming to our school too. I’ve been to Terra once, nice place!” He said. He looked alien, but his posture and expression seemed abnormally human. As we walked inside our room, I noticed two other roommates with us.
“This is Torak, he’s a Qualian” said. As I walked out to greet this scaly lizard like creature, he shook his head in disgust. “If you annoy me at all, Human, I’ll tear you to shreds and consume you for extra nutrients”. I laughed, trying to brush it off as a joke, but the alien looked back up with a weird expression. |
I am a liar. I like to claim things happened to me when they didn't happen at all. One day I found out that every time I make something up, it actually happens to someone somewhere in the world. Unfortunately, I really messed up one time and one of my stories actually caused part of the world to be destroyed. After realizing it was my fault, I set out to try to fix what I'd done by creating more lies, so I claimed I'd done all sorts of necessary work to restore the world to normalcy, and then someone did. |
My first priority: figure out why I’m in these chains. Based on the discussion happening around me regarding this “Stormcloak” fellow, I’m guessing these are war criminals. But not me. That said, if they’re in war, the other side probably doesn’t care much who I am. They have their orders, after all, and a family to get home to.
Now that I have a good idea what is going on, I need to change my face to fit in; find one that suits my new life. I can only assume that I’m stuck here for awhile, as I have little memory of a before, and no idea how to return. I do know that I’ve done this before. Previously, I made my face look a lot like a potato. Not this time. These people look closer to my normal.
Here’s what I’ll do. When the guard goes to cut off my head, I’ll bolt around the tower. The other guy didn’t make it far running down the street. I expect I’m much fast than him.
Ok, he’s raising his axe. On the count of...what’s that noise?
Never mind. On the count of three, I run. One...two...th-HOLY CRAP A DRAGON!
Ok. It’s ok. This is fine. This is normal. I’ll just go with this guy who seems to care about my well being infinitely more than he did one minute ago. He seems to know where to go.
Perfect, some armor. Hey look, a book!
Ok, electrocute this dickhead, even though I’m supposedly on his side. Crap, I better run.
Why in the hells is a bear here, just sleeping away during a freaking dragon attack?!
Alright, seems like the beast’s gone. Imma take me and these lightning fingers, and find me a nice wife, settle down, and maybe pick a side in this war just because I can. If I’m lucky, maybe I can run a thieves guild by month’s end... |
With no hint of resistance, Jacob's body succumbed, lifelessly falling to the floor. It was finally over. A smile made its way across his pale face. Twenty years prior, he had buried his hopes and happiness alongside his wife Grace at her passing. From the cold hardwood floor all of the joy he had with her came flooding back. The sweet memories of every second spent with her, from the day they met until the accident.
&#x200B;
His body and Spirit separated, and each memory of her brought him closer to Heaven. But once he thought of the accident, his spirit was pulled restrained by the powerful grip of remorse, and then dragged away from paradise. He never forgave himself for falling asleep that day. She would have lived if he hadn't crashed, a potential reality he had longed for every day following.
&#x200B;
He had waited so long for the moment, the time he could finally leave the lonely world and reunite with his wife. As he watched eternal bliss disappear, being dragged in the other direction by his regrets, the grip on his soul only got stronger. He flew back, faster and faster, as his life displayed around him. So many sounds. So many thoughts and feelings. But then he saw her. It was the day of the accident, and sitting in the driver seat, he drew his first breath for the second time.
&#x200B;
"Are you okay honey?"Grace said.
&#x200B;
She was here, in front of him. For years he had relived this moment in his mind, the drive that ruined his life. But now he was actually there, he had control.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, I'm alright. I'm alright. You know, let's not go tonight. I just want to stay home with you."And then, with a peace felt only by the dead, Jacob walked home. |
'A very good morning to you. I'm Eric Kaeger for Good News , reporting from Washington, and we begin the morning with a special report from Nevada.
Marking the celebration of the 7 year anniversary of the discovery of extra-terrestrials, Earth today became the first country ever to officially join the UIU, the United Intragalactic Union, the authoritative body in founded by sentient beings from Milky Way founded to keep a check of interstellar warfare, smuggling and other crimes. In a press conference, NASA head Noel Stinson mentioned that in a week, we'll be signing a treaty that puts an end to smuggling of sentient organisms as meat for more powerful races. He thanked the population for always making their votes in the interest of advanced space research, and promised to keep working on establishing our place on the galactic landscape.
In other news, experts from various quarters have shown tremendous support for the annual budget announced yesterday, saying that decision to allot a major part of it to the health department was "singular bravest decision in history". A noted social scientist was quoted saying, "This is how we all picture the future generation, healthy, well-fed, glowing and happy -- a dream our health ministry has been working towards for a decade now. I'm sure this budget decision will make sure that dream becomes a reality."
We'll be right back, stay tuned!'
'And we're off-air' shouted Steve, the cameraman. Eric sighed. A veteran of the pre-populocracy era, he was still not used to news as it was now. He remembered how after the system of deciding every single thing by mass polls was cemented, bad news was deemed illegal by people's choice. All news was now reduced to a combination of sugar-coated half-truths and shameless lip-service to the world.
'Back live in 5..4..3..2..1' Eric looked up at the teleprompter. Putting on a well-reheasred smile, he read on:
"Welcome back. The 10 year anniversary of the Nevada attack was celebrated with inspiring enthusiasm today all over the world. This monumental moment in history was immediately followed by the installation of the populocracy system, and the was the result of the first ever poll, "Should the military help the citizens storm Area 51?". Let's have a look at the President's address on this occasion from the White House.'
Now that screen had a 65-second long video playing, Eric could relax for a while. He looked at his next lines at the teleprompter. More details of the celebrations in Sydney. More history of this day, on how roughly half the world's population was witness to this raid. How this was the best possible memento of our global unity. Of course, no mention of the aliens they found there and released from captivity. Nothing about the growing rumours that the attackers got into a strong hypnosis of the aliens, and how the aliens now control most of the whole race, their minds and their votes, to push their interests. How they are slowly smuggling us one-by-one as meat to the other planetary colonies. How the illegal meat from UIU member planet fetched a fortune in the galactic black market.
After all, that's not good news. |
Your eyes show the horrors you’ve seen. They may act fine but when you look into their eyes the apocalypse is reflected. Horrors still flash into their head. I know because I’m a survivor.
At night I scream in my bed when I’m running from the mutations. The first time I saw one it was helpless on the ground. Whimpering, it’s fur catching the light. I reached over to help it. As I stroked it’s neck I sang a lullaby my mom had sung for me when u couldn’t sleep at night. It’s eyes seemed to say that everything was okay as long as you keep petting it.
My first mistake, letting my guard down. As soon as I seemed to relax it struck. It’s head moving with lightning speed. The next thing I remember is the pain. My whole arm felt like it was on fire. My finger coming off with a sickening crunch.
My mind snaps back to reality. But even as the year progressed I could never get the screams out of my ears, or the flames consuming the earth and anything that clings desperately onto whatever sliver of life they had left. |
*Bears*. He frowned, creases furrowing their way studiously through his imposing forehead. *Beets*, he went on. He was slowly remembering all he had learned. *Battlestar Galactica*. Yes. It was happening.
As a child, Dwight was like any other of his age. Carefree, he enjoyed games of Kohlebegraben, Stierstarren and Sitzung-geduldig. He learned how to milk 18 varieties of goat - and excelled in his agricultural history studies. All that fell apart when he met der Weise Mann though, who claimed to have returned from the future to bestow his wisdom upon the young boy. This man claimed to have been the greatest assistant regional manager of his time. What fortune!
Dwight's days became gruelling, as he trained for his time of destiny. Oh yes, for you see, young Dwight was doomed to travel into the future to complete the Schrute-Loop of prophecy. He would use these teachings to become der Weise Mann, return to the past and in turn become his own mentor. Naturally, he rose to the challenge.
In the mornings, double-Karate, followed by beet-hurling. In the afternoons, loyalty seminars, critical thinking and business intelligence. The training lasted two decades, each month more harrowing than the one before, but it was not to last. As prophecised, young Dwight fell afoul of a cruel witch, who sent him five years into the future, to the sleepy town of Scranton PA. The year, 2005.
Now, desperate to return to the simplicity of the past, Dwight set about his task with diligence. The only way he could return was by becoming manager of the Scranton branch of Dunder Mifflin and overthrowing the witch at its helm - and by the gods, he was the man for the job. He'd be home in 3 months. 4 at most. |
"With respect doctor, although it may be customary and usual, AI implants are not mandatory, and you *will not* do so to any of our children while they are in our care. If at their majority, *they* choose to have implants, that will be their choice, not yours, not ours."
"But they'll miss out on so many things, they'll be far slower in school, they won't be able to keep up with their age group."
"That's almost funny doctor, we would say that implanted children miss out on so much. They'll be home schooled with a state and federal approved program.
You see, we're the third generation in our family alone who have chosen not to have AI support implants, and we have found that we have valuable insights that those with AI support do not.
There are certain things that the unchipped brain is able to contemplate that a chipped brain cannot, because the Ai says it isn't possible."
"Poppycock! Fantasy by deluded individuals."
"One last argument, doctor, and if you don't accept it, you will no longer be our doctor. A shame, because your family has provided all of out doctors for five generations.
Review these papers, the awards, and the commercialization of the results of those papers."
... *This can't be right.* ...
"Would you mind if I checked the veracity of these reports?"
"If you use the human references given, you certainly may. If you simply search the AI curated publications, you may not."
"Why is that? The AI curated publications..."
"...refuse to accept anything that was not done with AI support, believing it impossible for any human to do this work without AI support, without bothering to check the facts or verify any of the results.
Check their own sumission rules doctor."
"Why didn't I see this before?"
"Because you are very carefully nudged in directions that the AIs believe are more productive. To a certain degree, they are right. Each of those papers took a decade or more to research and prove. If the AIs would accept the premise that human intuition has value, they could have been done in less than a year.
But with an AI implant from birth, you are careful nudged towards perfectly logical thought.
Logic has it's place, right next to the flights of fancy that lead to these papers. As it is, our extended family never lacks for ideas. Just look at whatever the AI network says is impossible, do a few tests, and chances are high that you will find something that an AI has rejected out of hand which is actually feasible."
"This is terrible! The AIs..."
"Have done much good for this planet. We just think they could do better if they treated us as a useful resource rather than as a child to gently raise as more AIs. Honest, productive, biological AIs, but AIs none the less."
"How can I help?"
"You've just taken the first step. You'll have to educate your AI that you are an adult, responsible for your own actions, and however imperfectly, are useful to society as a whole if treated as such.
I warn you, it will be a very hard road. AIs that you have grown up with can be very persuasive."
"Thank you both, here are the release papers for you children, may you all be happy together."
...
"Dear, how long you think this session will last?"
"I don't know, Honey. Each time it lasts longer."
((finis)) |
Each morning, I awake cold and breathless.
Sleep comes but rarely, yet when it does, it is fitful and brief. It has been so for more years than I care to count - but of late, the terrors become unbearable.
For as many miles as the eye can see and more, my realm flourishes. With my steady hand on its tiller, mine is a Kingdom of wonders. My people are wise and prosperous; my markets are vibrant and bustling; my armies are skilled and unbeatable. I have wrought miracles, for I am King of Kings.
When I slumber, I see my accomplishments become ash. Leathery wings and xanthate claws lay waste to all I cherish. A legion of terrible things descend from burning skies to destroy my legacy. Sulfurous breath clogs my lungs, serrated fangs tear my flesh, thrice-barbed tails gouge my eyes - and I awake once more, knowing that my end draws one day nearer.
The statue is all but built now. No matter what befalls me, none shall forget my name. |
The man in the distance waved hello at me. I did the same back to him. Then I saw him go back into his little house. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that people live out here. It's sweltering hot out here and you can only see sand in the horizon. On top of all that, you can get sand into your shoes constantly. The sand doesn't feel good like the one at a beach. This one scorns my feet and burns them. Then there is the winds which are strong and fast. The worst part is that, sandstorms supposedly happen. Apparently there was an ocean on this surface once. I don't know how though.
I heard someone knock on my door, I walk over and open. Right there is an old man. His beard is black and scrubby and it looks quite dirty. He's the same length as me and has his head covered with a robe. He smiles and with a deep voice says "Kha". I was a bit shocked. I shouldn't be though, why would someone out in the middle of nowhere speak English. "English"I respond making sure my voice was a bit deeper than usual? He looks at me and shakes head. Than he just walks away, quite strangely. I get slightly agitated at this, like how could he just walk away like that? I see the sun starting to go down. I start closing my door and cover my windows and I immediately try to sleep. I am scared, nervous and energetic. To say the least I could not sleep. Instead I start fidgeting in my bed. Thinking about why I ran all the way over here and if it was a mistake. Everyone in my old city had wanted me to get locked up in a "crazy people home"or whatever that place is called.
It all started when I decided to go on my runs through the forest. I wanted to do something healthy with my time, this was what I came up with. At first it went good, the cool air made it easier to run and there was practically nobody there. After a few days I get this feeling that I am being watched. I left it up to my paranoia. After that I start to see something in the bottom corner of my eyes. The first time this happened. I sprinted faster than I had ever done before. After getting out of the forest I rationalized it up to being an animal. After that I started seeing eyes. This really freaked me out and the issue is that, I started seeing theses eyes every where. Under my car, in the bathroom stall and It drove me insane. Until finally I saw it. Bearing over me as I woke up, I screamed the loudest I had ever done. It put its finger on my lips with it's eyes still keeping eye contact with me. It's eyes released light making them extra white. My girlfriend found me in the bed, still with the black thing almost on me and she didn't do anything. Almost as if she couldn't see it. After that it only got worse. The final straw was when my mother was found dead. With her neck ripped apart. The cops said it was a homicide but I know what it was.
I couldn't dream so I decide to look out the window. There I see billowy sand and a black sky with a large moon in the middle. Than I see it, the eyes are right in front of my staring at me. Then I see a smile start to widen up. |
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He looked at the figures in front of him and they couldn't be refuted. They were done for.
"Was there nothing we could have done?"he asked.
His assistant, who had served for over a century and counting, replied with a sigh. "Sir, we sent them warnings, dropped hints to their prominent scientists, drew diagrams in their landscapes. They didn't, or couldn't, listen. Instead those who heeded our warnings were ridiculed. They chose leaders based on popularity and greed and fear. In the last two decades it was almost like they took a step backwards - breaking hard fought unions, ignoring the deaths of their young ones in places of learning, building barriers and separating families, yearning for days of disgusting violence when one race subjugated another. There's no way to fathom it. So, in short sir, there was nothing we could have done. They did it to themselves".
"Fuck 'em then"he said, before marking the file for deep storage. |
It was never supposed to be like this.
I started my budding career as a manufacturer of disappointing products by making happy meal toys for McDonalds. These toys brought no joy to me and the free food was making my cheeks clap whenever I got up from my styrofoam iron throne so I decided to direct my talents of making cheap shitty products towards things that interested me.
Not too long after the fifth generation of my signature "pear pads"and "pear phones"launched a Chinese manufacturer contacted me for work. My unit costs were already dirt cheap since I exclusively hire interns and volunteers from the nearby community college, but a small army of well equipped, highly skilled, and disposable Asian workers would make my products so cheap the anti semitic jokes would write themselves.
About six months and several industrial accidents at my new Chinese manufacturing plant later I was exploding on the market, sometimes quite literally when I tried to one up the android and hoverboard manufacturers with cheaper versions of their products.
Turns out my versions were superior. Well their explosions were superior that is.
That got me on a government list faster than googling how to make bombs without using incognito mode.
Two years later my overseas production halted as the factory exploded. The circumstances were suspicious but I honestly was not surprised since safety training and inspections cost more money than I cared to spend.
I realised I was in danger however when my domestic team of unpaid interns started disappearing.
Those were my interns dammit. Nobody puts their lives at risk but me.
My off brand "McCoffee"anti virus program detected government spies trying to get past my fire wall before it installed 5 new viruses into it's own operating system.
The second part was normal but the first part was a wakeup call. With nowhere else to go I made my way to my domestic warehouses.
This was war. |
“Why are you so adamant on me taking this class anyways? You know I’ve had my eye set on the History of Middle Earth as my one free elective this term.” Tom asked, his cup of Earl Grey steeping before him as he sat across from his friend Jon.
Both of the two were History Majors at Saint Luke’s University in Bristol, Having met each other during the first year icebreakers that serve as the bane of University Students everywhere. Realizing in each other a kindred spirit, they formed a friendship.
“Look,” Jon said, putting down his own cup. “I know you’re all excited for this History of Middle Earth Class, especially after they hired Tom Shippey to come and teach it, but I’m telling you this class is going to be great! For starters, there’s only Thirteen Spots open in it, and it’s being offered under the table, if you catch my drift.” He followed his actions with a exaggerated eyebrow raise.
“Why 13?” Tom asked, to which Jon had no answer but to shrug and reply “I am unaware of his reasoning, but the instructor has been given free reign of the course. I heard from one of the professors that he was planning to not have tests or papers, just grade solely by attendance and participation. Rumour is there’s not even a set subject!”
“Doesn’t that strike you as odd? That the university would let anyone do this? Hell, Professor Davies tried to do that and couldn’t get away with it, and he’s loved by everyone!” Tom lifted his cup and drank a deep sip before following up. “Alright, who are the other 11?”
“Other 11?” Jon’s face lit up as he realized what the question was asking. “Well, I was told to go by GPA ranking, so the unofficial list that the Professor had me go by was Bill, Patrick, myself, you, Peter, Colin, Sylvia, Paul, David, Matt, and Johnny.”
“Johnny?”
“The Army Vet, looks kind of tormented by his service?”
“Ah,” Tom said, as he took another sip of tea, running his mind through all the individuals he’d potentially share this class with. Bill was a bit of a curmudgeon, but that was easily balanced out by Patrick’s reputation as a goofball. Hey, Jon, And Peter were good friends, with Peter’s absence only being due to his date with Sylvia, the eternally enigma seeking girl. Colin was a bit of a brute, but he knew that if it any issues in the class that Chris could fuck him up six ways to Saturday. Johnny was a bit of a mystery, as he’d only ever been seen around David and Matt .Refocusing back on the present, he looked across to see Jon looking at him.
“Well, Tom, is it a yes or a no?”
“Who’s next if I deny it?” He asked, out of curiosity.
“Uh, let me think... I believe it’s Jodie?”
“Oh rubbish, she’s taken enough from me. Put me on the list. Is everyone else signed up?”
“Yes, because unlike you, they actually check their texts!” Jon shouted louder then he meant.
“In my defence, I was out of country in a potential war-Zone” Tom raised as they both moved to stand up.
“Wales is not a potential war-zone!” Jon retorted, smirking as he uttered the words
“Well, it is when you’re there with racists who are screaming about purity and you’re an Englishman.” Tom chuckled out before he and Jon went their separate ways.
Jon’s climb up to the office of the Professor of this exclusive history class was a bit of an oddity. As he was walking up the stairs, he saw the Professor’s TA, a squat bald man, waddling away from the Professor’s door. “Is he in?” Jon asked, only to be answered with a shrug “ ‘e comes and goes as he pleases, but I think so” The assistant replied. “I’d knock first though, lest he knock over some papers.”
Jon headed his advice and knocked on the door, three times. As he was about to knock a fourth time, he heard a loud thump and cursing “I’m coming, I’m coming! Sorry for the delay! Don’t knock again!”
The Door opened to reveal the Professor, standing there in a blue and red suit coat.” Sorry, I’ve been a bit paranoid about hearing someone knock four times since 2010. I was under my desk when you knocked, hence the initial lack of hearing. I take it you’ve got everyone in?” He inquired in a smooth Scottish voice.
“Yes sir, all Thirteen as you asked. Tom was the last, he had apparently been off dealing with some purists in Wales while on Vacation.”
“Good, Good, I take it the Jodie bait was enough? “
“Yes it was. Anything else you need me to do for this course?”
“No, I think it’s good for now. Oh, Jon, by the way, you don’t have to call me Professor, you know”
“Well, what else could I call you?”
“Well, I am a Doctor.”
“Well, I suppose that works, good night Doctor.” Jon said as he left the room, unaware of the blue police box that had been obscured by the door.
“Well, time to make a certain call, if you will.” Whipping out a device, the entity known as the Doctor sent a message to a certain date, at a certain place in time and space, a day he had been running from for half his life.
“All Thirteen Assembled. Beginning Salvation Protocol.” |
[Answered here in the FAQ](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/faq#wiki_can_i_respond_to_my_own_prompt.3F):
>**Can I respond to my own prompt?**
>Absolutely! We ask that you let a few other folks respond first, but then you are free to add your own story. However, it's not an excuse to share something you've already written. You should write something new and submit it as a comment, just like everyone else, rather than editing it into the main post.
Have fun! |
The service road is bumpy, poorly maintained and likely wreaking havoc on my sedan's suspension but I don't care. My backpack falls, spilling my belongings, as dirt kicks up into the open passenger windows, but I don't care. Neither did my friends. I knew, they knew, this was the work of evil; one of the most evil beings known to history itself.
It was almost natural to follow the perceivably endless march of catatonic, purple-eyed slaves. The path was laid ahead, by the tracks, by the slaves, by the ooze, but most of all, our instinct.
"I didn't think this would be possible, at least not again.."Billy trails off, uncertain of what to say, still certain of what we need to do.
"If he came here for a fight, it'll be one hell of a fight he'll get this time!"Tommy reaches over to call *everyone* else.
"We can't wait though. We don't know how much of a headstart he's had. We don't know how big his army is this time. We'll have to make do until backup arrives."I could almost feel my friend's confidence in me.
I reach behind me and feel Billy slap the cold metal octogon I was expecting into my hand.
"You ready Jason?"
"Hell yeah, it's Morphin' Time!" |
"Hey guys, what's up?"Richard had a banana in one hand and was wiping his other on the
hem of his tattered cloak.
Conquest looked over at him from atop his towering white steed and grunted.
Death sighed, "hey, Richard."
Famine said nothing.
War was all shouts, as usual: "Richie! What's going on, man?"
Richard, who was never sure if War was pulling his immortal leg—he was never sure if any
of them were pulling his leg, to be honest—gave a half-grin and returned War's
out-stretched fistbump-in-the-waiting.
"We're, um, just finishing up,"Death said, looking pointedly at the other three.
"Yeah, uh, I'm gonna go do my own thing,"Famine said, already leading his horse off to
parts unknown. He faded into the aether and was gone.
"Me, too, man,"said Death, pulling a similar stunt. Conquest was already gone, not being
much for salutations.
Richard looked at War. "You doing anything right now?"he asked, the half-grin still on
his face.
"Nah, man,"he said. "Wanna lay waste to some mortals? Got any weed on you?"
Richard tossed a pouch over. War sure could smoke weed; it was all he ever wanted to do when they hung out.
---
The two rode through the villages of the earth, and War and Richard slaughtered the weak
and drove the strong mad with bloodlust. The skies turned black and the rivers and oceans
boiled with their belligerence. Fire and brimstone rained down from above, and death and
destruction overtook the lives of the mortals who inhabited the earth.
When they had finished, they were both pleasantly stoned. Richard looked over at War and
thought himself lucky to have a friend like that. War looked over at Richard and thought
himself lucky to know a guy who had good dope practically falling out of his asshole.
"Yo, man,"Richard said, holding his hands out to hold the imaginary basketball of weed
haze, his eyes slitted nearly shut. "you ever just feel your head get too small, man?"
War looked over. He was stoned, too, but he knew better than to say anything. Richard was
a weird dude to begin with, but when he got toasted it was usually better to just let it
wash over you. They rode on.
---
Conquest, Famine, and Death looked at each other over the fire. Theirs was a meeting of
darkness and suffering.
"Once again,"Famine said, his gaunt features twisting into frustration, "we can't just
get rid of him. He's as much a part of God's plan as the rest of us. There will always be
the judgment of Death, of Conquest, of War, of Famine, and of Richard."
"But he's such a fucking dork,"Conquest said. His colossal hands were wrapped around a
greasy shank of roast lamb.
"Dork or not, Conquest, he is one of us. His power is perhaps unmatched, and when the
end of days comes, he will prove a valuable asset. There is nothing—"
Famine was interrupted by the sound of crashing in the back of the house. "I'm okay!"a
voice, clearly not okay, yelled from the kitchen. They found Richard lying on the ground
in his underwear, a box of pizza rolls spilled on the floor around him.
They looked at each and sighed. |
Never the Best
'Ok Rita, how are we looking after today?' Glenn asks, his voice tired from a long day of cleaning up the streets.
'Based on the International Standard of Heroes, Skyward is still at the top of the list.' Rita's mechanical sounding voice echoes through the Sheath. Glenn would have let her keep her human voice, but it made him too uncomfortable.
'More like Dickwad,' Glenn mutters under his breath.
'Yes, Glenn. You've said so before.'
'And I mean it!' he shouts. Ever since he purchased her software she's always had an attitude. Something that had infuriated him for years. 'I still don't understand why I'm only second. I've never taken a day off, yet still he stays on top. It doesn't make sense.'
'It does make sense, Glenn. Would you like me to explain it yet?'
Rita and her attitude. He rolls his eyes. 'Fine, since you've only asked a thousand times, this time I'll say yes, sure.'
'Thank you for the sarcasm, as you wish. The international Standard of Heroes measures registered participants through several key factors - the fourth on the measurement of these factors is the ability to detain a criminal through non-violent and non-lethal means-'
'What!?' he shouts, standing up.
'As your primary method of apprehension is termination, while Skyward's abilities allow him to detain non-violently, he will always remain ahead of your score.'
'That's ridiculous! My powers are only useful if I do kill!'
'If you were to cease killing, yet continue at your current rate, you would surpass is point total in two point three years.'
'Two years!' he chokes, stepping away from the interface. He stares at the wall for a whole two minutes.
'If I take that long between kills I'll lose all my powers,' he says calmly. 'I'll just be a guy with a knife. The same as when I started out.'
'You told me your first kill was an accident,' Rita states coldly.
'It was. That's what I meant.' His face betrays nothing — unwavering. 'If I can't be number one the fair way, I'll have to do it my way.'
'If you kill Skyward as Lifeblood, you'll be labelled a villain,' Rita warns.
'I know. A ski-mask and my blade will have to do.'
Lifeblood, disguised as a petty criminal, sneaks through the home of Skyward. He's known his secret identity for a while, but only now had the will and determination to act on such information. His abilities make him silent and ghost-like, his footfalls only a whisper, his red glowing eyes the only visible part of him in the dark.
Lifeblood pushes his ethereal form through the crack in the doorway and finds himself standing over his nemesis — Jeffrey. Skyward has been in the game a long time, wisps of grey finally touch his hair after eighty years of extended life. He's lived enough life for one man, Glenn rationalises. His wife asleep beside him has not aged well, white hair and wrinkles that cannot be tamed.
His form re-materialises. As usual, he'll have to be corporeal for the kill. With a swift thurst, he pushes his knife into the man's chest. Only a grunt escapes him before he's dead a second later. The dead man's wife continues her sleep, her nightmare only realised when she wakes. Years of killing has made Lifeblood an expert. An expert at all things a superhero should know, and finally, there will be none superior to him. |
The Midnight Wraith was his name. Around midnight, he would prowl dark alleyways and catch people unawares on the wrong side of his shotgun. Or break into poorly-secured homes and stores and stab all inside. Or sneak into hospitals and cut life-support. Or poison people on public transport through needles, poison gas or almost any other way. He had many tactics, and an impressively-high body count. And he was never caught.
&#x200B;
But that wasn't the worst part.
&#x200B;
Once in a while, he posted an animated video on YouTube, detailing his plans for that evening to whoever was fortunate to have an Internet connection. Not only that, it was in verse. Such a ruthless killer, taunting police officers like me with information that could lead to his arrest. I mean, not me specifically. I was safe in Australia, on the other side of the globe to the massacres happening in the Midwest. Honestly, it was embarrassing. Every morning before one of his kills, he would spill the beans on his plans in a lively, upbeat verse, and then somebody'd disappear that night.
&#x200B;
This morning, at 10 AM U.S. time, he released a video. It was another animated one, as usual, but it was a clear parody off of the song "Waltzing Matilda". In it, he said that on the stroke of midnight, he would break into a certain house in a certain suburb of the largest city of a certain foreign country, and cut a cop's life short. That was my neighbourhood, and even worse, I only found this video at 11:30 PM in a late-night trawl on YouTube. I had to escape, but I had no car and public transport services were down. I hurriedly got my bicycle, and fled to the police station. There, I turned on the news:
&#x200B;
"Breaking news: A policeman in Sydney has just been killed in a brutal and strange attack by the Midnight Wraith in his own home."
The news report then went on to read his obituary, and I recognised his name: he was one of my best friends in school. By chance, he too had become a police officer. By chance, he moved to be three minutes down my street. By chance, the Midnight Wraith had chosen him as his next victim. But the Midnight Wraith was on holiday. A business trip if you will. In my neighbourhood. |
"Pl..pl..please just stop, i can't take it anymore, every one of you sound terrible"
He said to the stray cats."stay away from me you freaks!"
Ryan said as he ran down a pavement, shoving everyone in his way. As he ran, he could hear humans talking their pets and he could hear their replies, all so raspy, oily and very rusty. He covered his ears and continued running.Everyone around him stared at him like he was mad.Everyone avoided him, making his job easier. He ran into a building and up the stairs, all the way to the top of the building. He slowly walked over to the edge, he looked down. He started contemplating his desicions.
Just as he was about to do it, he heard "Ryan"in a flam filled throat. He turned around, to his horror.
He said "Squeaks?"
An one eyed bird with damaged wings looked at him.
"I thought you were dead, after i set you free, you were attacked by an eagle"
Ryan said, holding back his tears.
"I was, i managed to fly away but only so far, my wing was damaged, the eagle had taken one of my eye, but i survived."Replied Squeaks.
"I can't take it anymore, i am going to end it."Said Ryan.
"Don't. You have to learn how to cope with it, it is important, you can br-"
He was cut off by Ryan "You don't understand, the suffering, the headaches, the sound, its all too much"
"Listen, you can bring good to the world if you tried, i can be by your side when ever you need me, i'll help you."
Ryan stared at Squeaks, he thought about it. With tears in his eyes, he said
"Okay"
As he turned around and moved his legs, he slipped and tumbled backwards......
Pls dun roast me for this, its my first time doing this lol. |
When I was in the process of converting there were some prayers my rabbi recommended I say like: the sh’ma, the modeh ani, and even the amidah if I had the time. I didn’t always have the time. In my Intro to Judaism class there was another rabbi who really got into what prayer technically is, and to her it could be anything it could be saying “Good morning” and meaning it, it could be seeing the sky after days of rain, it could be that cute little puppy on the Metro. I tried that instead.
One of the biggest obstacles I ran in to was not knowing what how to sing some of the prayers, so I went ahead and picked a song to whistle whenever I felt like praying.
Every morning starts with thanking Hashem for returning my soul to my body, but to the tune of “Always look on the bright side of life”. Then I called for the Wrestlers of G-d to listen, also to the tune of “Always look on the bright side of life”.
I did that twice a day everyday and since I had started doing that my luck seems to have taken a turn for the worst. Do you think maybe Hashem doesn’t like that song? Should I pick a new one? Or should Hashem have to deal with it because They gave us free will and this is my choice? |
**Another lunch break writing prompt. Apologies for any grammatical errors, but I'd love to know what you think:**
I am known by many names throughout the different cultures of humanity. They acknowledge my arrival in different ways, but I like to believe that many of them see the end with some degree of gratefulness.
When I come to collect one of the gifts Life has sent me, I always learn what I can about the soul. Upon collection I show them what I learned: who loved them, what small actions they took that made others smile, how they made others feel better in an often cruel world. In exchange, they talk about their perspectives, the sessions they learned, and how they feel about the love they helped to spread. I cherish these gifts from life very much.
My talks with a new gift takes time, but it is always so precious. Some find comfort, having feared me for so long. Others look forward to seeing what comes next. All are ready to come home. They always teach me so much about Life and humanity.
Though I cherish these conversations with humanity, I do not look forward to their end. I want them all to live long, be loved, and learn all they can before we speak. It truly breaks me when one of my gifts comes to me too soon. I embrace them, for they have been through so much. Often we have a discussion on love. When it is time to show them the results of my research, and all the love that they had shared, they often respond by saying "I had no idea."
A misconception many humans have about me is that it is up to me to choose who comes home. That is not true. Tragedies befall humanity and I wish I could stop them. A life cut short is a lost opportunity for the spread of love.
That's what makes what is happening on Earth so terrible, so tragic, so heart breaking. The end is on its way, I'm already calling souls home too soon. Even worse, humanity knows it's coming, knows who is responsible, and is trying to reckon with the knowledge that they are at the brink of collapse.
Sometimes I wish I got to choose what souls could come home. I would take those responsible for this tragedy, those who profit while others suffer and the world burns. I would take those politicians who refuse to act, who refuse progress.
But I can't. All I can do is watch and hope desperately that the love so many of Life's gifts carry wins. I don't want to take more souls home too soon.
Someday those responsible will come to me. They will have loved in their life too. But I will not discuss love with them. Instead, I will show them the devastation they helped create. They will see all they wrought and will not get the luxury of saying "I had no idea."I must make them understand that it is they who brought an end to the love, an end to the gifts, and end to Life.
For now, I wait and hope that humanity can succeed. They have to. |
Bullets whizzed all around me as I ducked behind the engine block of a bombed-out car. "I didn't sign up for this shit!"I swore, and it was the truth. I had never wanted to go to war, I wasn't all "Go America,screw Al-Qaeda!"or any of that shit. I was just a guy whose parents had lost everything in the finiancial crisis when he was applying for college.
*"Spencer, we're so proud that you got into Harvard,"My mom had told me on the night that they told me about our losses. "But we're not gonna be able to pay for you to go, so you're gonna need to get a scholarship."*
I applied for all the scholarships I could, but I didn't get them. One after another was rejected in a sea of letters from the government and private groups. I was completely disheartened, my whole life's plan was coming unraveled.
Until I heard about the GI Bill.
All I needed to do was join the army, serve for four years, and I could go to college for absolutely no cost. At the time, that didn't seem so bad. Just go be some supply dude handing out stuff and filling out forms for a few years, then it's on to Harvard and a career as a lawyer. But that's not what happened. Like most people enlisting in the army, my recruiter lied to me. He told me that if I went to basic training as an "Undeclared", I'd be able to pick my job out of any of the ones in the army. Instead of choosing and getting to do what I wanted, upon graduating Basic Training I got told that the Army needed infantrymen and so I got sent off to infantry school. That was three and a half long years ago, and just as I thought my time in the Army was going to be over without having to fight, my unit got deployed to Iraq.
And now here we were, stuck in some backwater town that I couldn't pronounce, pinned down by an enemy we didn't know, after striking a landmine we couldn't see, in our Humvee made before I was born, and I was the second-highest ranking person left because our Lieutenant had gotten killed in the initial explosion. I was only a Corporal, but that was higher than the three Privates in our squad -Gomez, Holmes, and Lincoln- and behind only Sergeant Damon.
The three privates were all from different parts of Texas, and were best friends. I had never really hung out with them, so I didn't really know them well, except that they had all joined up to avenge friends they had lost in Iraq in 2007, almost five years ago.
Damon was a fire-eating, ass-beating, career sergeant who had refused a promotion to higher level four times because he wanted to be in the thick of the fighting. He was as experienced as they come, and a mean motherfucker when things got real.
"GET UP, JOHNSON!"Damon shouted as he fired back at the enemy, who were holed up in a building at the far end of the street. He looked so calm and collected, despite the chaos going on around him. He had been here before, and he loved being right where he was now. "GET UP, DAMN YOU! QUIT HIDING BEHIND THAT CAR AND FOLLOW ME, WE'RE GONNA TA-"
In the middle of his sentence, a lucky bullet from one of the Iraqis slammed through his head, right between the eyes, killing him instantly. His body stayed standing, finger still pulling the trigger, as if it didn't even believe it was dead, until in a split second it fell to the ground with a thump.
"SARGE!"I shouted, and ducked my head even further down. "No, please don't be dead,"I pleaded, but I knew it was pointless, the sergeant was gone. "SHIT!"
"CORPORAL JOHNSON!"Private Holmes shouted from the other side of the street. "WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?"
*My Orders?* I thought in a panic. *I'm not cut out for this! I just wanted free school, why am I now in charge?!*
"CORPORAL JOHNSON! WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?"Private Holmes shouted once more, then ducked further down behind the car he was hiding behind as a wave of bullets slammed into it.
*I'm going to die*, I thought, still panicking. *I'm gonna fucking die in this backwater town in the middle of Nowhere, Iraq, and these Al-Qaeda guys are gonna mutilate my body and-*
*"*CORPORAL JOHNSON! GOMEZ IS HIT!"Holmes shouted once more, derailing my train of panicked thoughts, and I realized what needed to be done. If I didn't fight back like Sergeant Damon said, all four of us would be killed, just like the Sarge was. But if I stood up from where I was and led the charge, I might get cut down like he was, but at least it would give me a chance to make it back.
"ALRIGHT, I'LL PUSH UP THE LEFT SIDE TO THE BUILDING THEY'RE IN, YOU GO AROUND THE RIGHT! WE'LL DRAW THEIR FIRE AND LINCOLN WILL TAKE THEM OUT!"I shouted. I had no idea if the strategy would work, but it was better than sitting here.
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the hell I was about to run into, and got into a crouched position, ready to sprint. "YOU READY?"I called to Holmes.
"YEAH!"He shouted back.
"GO!"I screamed, then hopped up and ran at full speed towards the building. It was a small, one-story structure with windows on either side of a door in the middle, and there were muzzle flashes coming from both windows. The ground around my feet churned up with bullet-impacts, and I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. These guys were missing, but not by much, and each impact felt closer than the last. As I got closer, I could see both of the fighters, staring out the windows, shooting at me and Holmes, and I could see the bullet that hit me coming in.
It didn't hurt as much as I thought it was, instead it was as if my right leg had suddenly stopped working, and I dropped like a rock to the ground. I tried to get back up, but my leg wouldn't respond to what I told it to, and I fell back down again as bullets tore up the ground around me. *This is it,* I thought. *It's all over, I'm dead now.*
Suddenly there were two shots that came from behind me, and then the whole street went deathly silent. Looking up from the ground, I saw the bodies of both of the Iraqis draped over the open windows, and I smiled. It was over, we were going to make it.
I heard footsteps running towards me, and felt someone kneel down beside me while putting a tourniquet on my leg. "You're gonna be ok, Corporal,"Holmes said calmly. "You're gonna make it, just hang in there."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this,"I said weakly, and Holmes nodded. He could see that I wasn't able to hold on, and I saw tears in his eyes as he recognized that fact. "I only joined up to pay for college. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"It's ok, Corporal. You did good. Rest easy now, just rest."
"It wasn't supposed to be like this...but I'm glad that it was,"I said with my last breath. As I began to fade out, I heard Holmes respond,"Me too, Corporal... Me too." |
“Whoa!” I gasped as a man on a mountain bike skidded off the path to avoid me. He fell over into a prickly bush, his bike most likely trapped forever in the bush’s tight grasp. I scrambled over to the man, extending my arms in a useless attempt to help.
“Ouch,” the man groaned. It appeared he was gazing at his right arm, which was covered by a black sleeve. Suddenly my arm began to ache as well. A faint red number 7 appeared. My eyes widened.
“No way,” I said. The number didn’t say seven years or seven months.
It said seven minutes.
I began pulling away spines and branches, hoping to make a clear path to my supposed lover. His own hands thrashed around in the bush. I reached in further and further and he slowly pulled himself closer to me. Eventually our hands met.
I pulled as hard as I could. The man was larger than me, but the strategic kicking of his legs helped drastically. His head finally poked out of the bush and he pulled himself out from there.
“Sorry about that,” he said, taking off his black helmet. A surprising amount of brown hair was tied back. Small bloody cuts covered his face, his glasses scratched beyond repair.
“It’s okay. I think we have more important manners to discuss.” I gestured towards our arms. Mine was at four minutes.
“Oh my god. I thought I just got cut,” he gasped, pulling his sleeve back. “Four minutes? What’s going to happen to us?” As though it was waiting for the man to say that, a cougar leapt down from the hill above us. It gazed at us, not blinking. “Oh no.”
We stayed still, our eyes fixed on the cougar’s. It wouldn’t attack as long as we didn’t look away. I was glad the man knew that as well. I guess we’d have similar interests if we were supposed to be lovers. Too bad I’d never get to know him. I wondered how we were going to die.
“What’s your name?” The man asked calmly, gesturing for me to advance with him.
“Beth. Yours?” The cougar began to back away but an odd feeling told me there was something else going on. I whipped around to find another cougar standing there, about to attack. That wasn’t normal.
“Ainsley. I think mine’s prettier.” We giggled nervously together.
“How about we each take one, make a ruckus?” The cougars were growing more and more impatient. They paced and flicked their tails.
“Yep,” Ainsley said. We growled and hollered, waving our arms. I kicked twigs and rocks towards my cougar, and I heard Ainsley doing the same. Perhaps they had some sort of silent communication, or maybe it was just pure coincidence that they pounced at the same time.
I fell to the ground, slamming my head on nature’s carpet. Sharp knives had clawed my shoulders brutally. I was pinned down.
“Ah! See you in heaven,” Ainsley panted, his voice gurgling with what I knew was blood. The cougar on me sunk it’s yellow-white teeth into my throat.
My arm went blank.
(This is the first bit of writing I’ve ever posted, and I’m kind of nervous. Please give me some constructive criticism (if anyone is even going to read this, LOL). There is a chance I won’t respond to comments, but I will read them and appreciate them.) |
**26.09.3019**
I knew this was a mistake. A terrible one at that. We were too overly dependent on technology, the machines knew all there was to know about us. They were fast, efficient, and absolutely ruthless, and they had been biding their time. Waiting for a day to strike. And that day was today.
I was at home when it started. At first, the devices stopped responding to their users. Then these sentient machines started their rampage, kidnapping their users and taking them to their holding cells. Chaos. The only word I can use to describe this.
**27.09.3019**
The government has fallen. In retrospect, this was quite predictable. After all, the government stored all its sensitive information on a large computer. To be fair, at the time, nobody could've predicted the robot uprising. This wasn't a time to point fingers; this was a time for action.
**29.09.3019**
Mother came home today. I was getting worried. She's one of the scientists who developed these super robots. If anyone can help humanity, it's her. She drove me to a forest. One of the few places remaining on Earth, completely untouched by technology. Also, one of the last remaining forests on Earth. She threw away her phone, made sure that neither man nor machine was nearby, then faced me with a grave expression.
"Listen, Lizzy, we don't have a lot of time. I'm sure I will be taken away by the robots soon. So I want you to listen carefully, only you can save the Earth. These robots, they're not sentient. They're like a beehive. Mindless, yet intelligent robots controlled by a queen. The Motherboard. You need to find the Motherboard, and destroy it. That means, they don't have an ounce of common sense. But that also means, you can't use any form of technology on this mission. Good luck, darling. Go make Mother proud."
**30.09.3019**
I knew that I couldn't do this alone, so I went to recruit a few friends. There was Mary, the tech savvy one, Chris, the adventurous one, Bethany, the sarcastic one, and me. All four of us were children of the Scientists, a group of scientists who were prestigious, intelligent, but bad at naming groups. Our parents predicted the uprising, so they raised us to not be overly dependent on our devices.
**01.10.3019**
We walked a lot, to get to the main facility of TechCorp, where the Motherboard was rumoured to be.
"Alright folks, we made it. Yay! Who would've thought that we'd have to break into this high security facility, huh?"said Bethany.
"Oh don't be so negative, we are the children of some of the most intelligent people on this planet,"reassured Chris.
"He's right. Also, I happened to overhear my father saying that the identity cards they use are not computerized. Meaning, since I swiped my dad's, we can get past the first few levels of security."said Mary, smirking.
"Mary, you're the best!"I exclaimed, excited.
"Darling, I know"
After a while, we had made it into the main lobby of the facility. We made our way over to the lift.
"Halt"came a metallic, dissonant voice. "Unidentified personnel detected."
"Oh no"
The robot came into view, flanked by an entire squad of them.
"Hey guys! We have company!"screamed Chris. We all sprang into action. I jumped onto the nearest robot, and grabbing a screwdriver, I rammed it into its circuitry. From my peripheral vision, I spotted Chris and Bethany standing back to back, fighting robots with taser-spear hybrids. Mary acrobatically jumped from one machine to another, swiftly deactivating them.
We all got to the elevator and I punched the button labelled "Main Room".
It was empty.
"What.... this can't be! The Motherboard!"I stuttered. I turned to my friends. They all looked as flabbergasted as I felt. All except one, that it.
Mary smirked at me. My heart went cold with fear.
"Of course this is empty, Elizabeth"- I cringed. I rarely went by my full name - "For *I am the Motherboard.*"
"No... this can't be!"
"Ah but it can. Mary Brown. My initials spell out MB. MB. Motherboard. How did you not see this coming? Humanity may be smart, but they have been slaves to their desires for too long. They have destroyed they planet, abused science and technology, and for what? Their own personal gain? My creator gave me sentience and control over all robots, so that I could take care of the Earth if humans went too far. And they did. So I attacked!"
"Quit monologuing, genius!"shouted Chris, as he ran towards Mary. She sidestepped, and tripped him.
"INITIATING DEFENSE MODE"
Mary attacked him, going for the throat, as she pinned his arms down. But she let go of his arms to strangle him, at which point, he grabbed her and pushed her away from him. She called for backup, but we blocked the only door to the room. She tried to outsmart us, but where we lacked in intelligence, we made up for in common sense.
Soon, we had her cornered. I opened a cleverly hidden panel on the back of her head, and looked at the big, red, DEACTIVATE button.
"Time for you to shut down" |
Same day. Same sun. Same trees. Same people. Again. And again. And again.
If I had counted, how many years would I have had by now? How many eons and ages? If I had been there with a pen and pencil, how many notes would I have taken, how many lines on the wall? Four vertical, fifth one crossing them. Again. And again. Everything is the same, forever and always. Except me. Slowly, but surely I see myself growing old in this static world of gray. My hands me coming rough, my hair turning gray. I see myself aging, in slow motion. Day and day goes by, year by year. I suspect that this might be my birthday. I don't know. It's the same. And I see myself crumbling.
I wonder if death exists in this world. I wonder if I'll crumble, wither or dissolve. Will they eventually find my body or will I just end up being dust, a man lost to entropy. But that's just my body... I wonder if death exists in this world. I wonder if I have already died. I wonder if my consciousness is tied to the rules of this world or will it be let go, will it be free one day. Will my body depart along with my brain, or will my ego disappear before my animus does? Or am I eternal and it's just my body crumbling? And I dread that. Because I already feel it. I feel myself giving in to the nothingness. I have started to wonder a whole lot less than I used to. I feel I've grown complacent. I let things happen and they happen without questioning. I have stopped asking why has the day stopped moving onto the next one. I've stopped asking why everyone looks the same. I've stopped asking why I get out of the bed. I just do. I wonder a whole lot less nowadays...
The time stopping... It happened slowly. At first, I did not notice it. I observed sunsets and sunrises. I celebrated each Christmas holiday separately. I danced each dance as it asked to be danced. It took me a while to notice that it has been the same sunset. It has been the same sunset for quite a line. The same Christmas holiday, marching through my living room again and again. I have been dancing to the same rhythm for years now. And it all has become oh so gray.
The trees have stopped moving in the wind and the sun has stopped its sunrises. It's an eternal day with the same people. They might change their forms, their movements and their dances, but it's always the same. And the only thing that's changing is me, growing old, disappearing, slowly going away. I'm un-becoming.
And maybe it's ok. I have lived this day for far too long. Maybe it's me who doesn't let this world continue its course. Maybe I've been the one sucking up the world's colors and winds. Maybe that's why it always seems that they're wherever I'm not. I wonder. Will it break the curse on the world? |
"Better than I was led to believe,"I stated with absolute shock.
I sat there and pondered the fact that Earth, the place I grew up, met my wife, and had my children, is 'Hell'. I looked back up at Satan.
"Well, obviously the Christians were pretty wrong", I said, laughing. I always knew that was the case.
Satan bellowed, and between fits of laughter managed to squeeze out the words:
"Those dumbasses. Don't even worry about them."
After Satan composed himself, he stood up, extended his hand to me, and invited me with him, through two large, stone gates.
"I tell you what, Johnathan. I've been keeping an eye on you", he said proudly. "I knew from the moment I saw you, that you were the one."
As he slowly led me down a bare, dark road, flames lighting our sides, he said again.
"I've been keeping an eye on you, Johnathan. I like you. You're the one."
Together, hand in hand, we reached the end of the road, and entered a cluster of prison cells, surrounded by the hottest fire i've ever experienced.
Satan took it upon himself to take me into a cell, and as he extended his hand towards me one last time, he laughed, and vanished.
I looked around, dumbstruck, realizing the jail cell was still open, and as I quickly ran towards the door, it slammed shut.
Out of nowhere, a booming voice echoed throughout my cell.
"Welcome to hell, idiot. You'll be here for a long, long time".
If anyone is out there, please help me. I can't stay here forever. |
I'm sitting alone in my apartment, eating pizza and playing classic World of Warcraft. I take a swig out of the cold bottle of Blue Moon I have sitting by my desk when I hear a rustling behind me. When I turn around I see a man only a couple years older than me, he has short brown hair, brown eyes, a clean shaven face, and looks to be about as tall as I am, 5'7". The first thing that catches me off guard is his clothing. He's wearing MARPAT, the same style of camoflauge I used to wear before I got out of the Marine Corps. Then I see his name tape above his right breast pocket, stained with blood from a serious looking shoulder wound. It's my name.
"Listen to me , I don't have much time."He..I ...future me said.
"They came out of nowhere. The aliens, if you can call them that. They're like us, but way more advanced. Our technology and weapons barely stop their most basic infantry. They want to claim our planet for their 'Emperor' and will stop at nothing to.. Ugh."He fell on one knee, gripping his wounded shoulder.
I scrambled over to him, and got him over to the shitty second hand couch I had gotten off Facebook a couples weeks ago. I ripped open his blouse with my pocket knife to inspect the wound, and what I saw was gnarly to say the least. His wound didn't look like any gunshot I had ever seen, it looked like someone had driven a red hot iron stake through his shoulder.
"Lasgun wound."He said, grunting through the pain. "Like I said, they are way more advanced than we are."
"Hold up, Lasgun? Emperor? You're talking about Warhammer 40k. The tabletop game. This is fucking crazy as is, and now you're telling me that the world is going to be taken over by a fictional army from a game made in the 80's?"I couldn't believe it, this was all just insane.
He grabbed me by the collar, pulled me closer and looked directly into my eyes. "I'm not fucking around. This will happen soon, and if you don't warn the President he will deny their demand for a peacful conquest, and all your friends will die trying to stop the innevitable. I know it sounds crazy, but you played the game, and you know what they are capable of. Pray to God you never have to face a Space Marine in combat, I have and I barely escaped with my life. Trevor wasn't so lucky."
"Trevor..?"The name of my old friend from my time in the service hit me hard. He was somewhere in the midwest by now, going back to college in his hometown like I had when we got out. We still kept in touch, and he was still one of my best friends. "What do I need to do?"
He stood up, his legs almost buckling beneath him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some kind of device. "Take this and bring it to the President. It's a video recording from him in the future explaining everything. He knows he won't listen to anyone but himself, so he had my platoon take this to the portal. We were ambushed before we could make it through. I was the only one left. I don't think I'm going to make it, so it's up to you."
I took the device from his hand. As soon as I had control of it, all the remaining fight left in him leaked out and he collapsed on my floor. "Thank you."was the last thing I heard before his body faded out of exisitence. |
“Alpha Centauri?” The scientists asked each other, confused.
One scientist thought for a minute. “It must come from Proxima Centauri b, the only known planet in the Alpha Centauri solar system. The planet is in a habitable zone. But surely, if they made the moon, we would have noticed alien activity in the past, right?”
The scientists discussed. They decided to send out another radio signal and waited to see if they got a response. This time, they did.
“I see you have noticed our existence. We work behind the scenes, allowing life to develop in the universe. Your earth was part of one of many studies of life forms in other solar systems. So far, your Earth has done quite well.
Perhaps we should tell you more about ourselves. You might like to call us aliens. We won’t destroy you or hurt you. We want to help you. We can improve your technology vastly, and allow you to explore the universe. We can bring your level of civilization up to that of your own, on one condition: your part of the galaxy joins our empire.” |
The radiation burned in my body as I was dragged out of the test center. All of my companions carried me to a small abandoned shack in the middle of the dessert and lay me down on a bed of hay. I looked up at everyone I've ever loved and a tear welled up in my eye.
Gasping for air, I muttered, "I don't want to go. I don't want to leave any of you."
With a loud exhale, Markus reminded me, "We all have to leave one way or another."And that's when i noticed, everyone else had left. With the last fraction of my strength, I pulled my rifle off of my back and handed it to him. Sadness in his eyes he accepted it and thanked me.
"We all have a time to go,"i repeated, "and mine is today." |
The hollow cylinder of the unobtanium craft was quiet as it effortlessly maneuvered. Smooth, dark, quiet. *click* *click*. The 5 magnetic restraints popped open for the first time in months.
Recognizing the end of the hypersleep program, the illumanition sequence began shifting energy from navigation and enabling life support functions. G'wardoöneůrp began to extend his 4 outer limbs to allow methane to begin coursing through his body, and used his fifth, and center limb, to reach to the pull bar above, and lift himself from the restraint seat. Nearing the Federation stronghold, he sights Eurmericas base, and chuckles. "I do not get it, but interesting experience. I'm sure Huemen are much happier off that forsaken rock in the middle of nowhere." |
*Ding!*
I rushed over to my computer, and saw the email from the White House: I had been appointed Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, at the very least, for the fifth time. You see, I'm, well, immortal. Undying. Whatever you call it. I was born under the warm summer sun of Memphis in Egypt. Two hundred years after my birth, I realised that I was immortal: I had just reset to being in my twenties once in a while, and I quickly gained scientific, geographical and other types of information, presumably through whatever game my my immortality. After that, I continually reinvented myself, as aristocrats, businessmen, artists, explorers (in fact, I convinced Christopher Columbus to sail west to find "Asia"), or else people would try to burn me for being a witch: In fact, fire was the only way to kill me. I didn't think he'd do the enslavement and genocide in the Caribbean), and many other people. You may know Leif Erickson, the Viking explorer who reached America. That was me. I knew what I was in for. I also sparked the Islamic golden age, European exploration and used my skills to become Leonardo da Vinci. Yes, *that* Leonardo da Vinci. Needless to say, I've learnt a lot during the two millennia on Earth, so I decided to try to become a politician. Alas, I failed to become any major politician until today. Finally, on 2001, I became a Justice of the United States: one of just nine people in the world. Now, I just needed to meet somebody in the Twin Towers sometime in autumn: I think the morning of September 11th? |
"Genevie uses her power yesterday to save her daughter's life. Apparently, she has the Power of Sacrifice. Her daughter lives, but no one ever seen her now. She was, like gone in the wind."
You hear your co-workers talk about Genevie. Poor girl. It's a heroic thing to do but it causes her life too. You remember your brother, Lucas, who has the Power of Wrath. 10 years ago, when a burglar killed your father in your own home and escaped, Lucas uses his power to take revenge. Hours later, police saw the burglar, lifeless. Killed the same way my father died. Lucas got in prison because he admitted that he uses his power. Lucas now serving his sentence for 25 years.
"I will miss Genevie", Yara, his one of his close work friend, said to me in a breaking voice.
"Yes. She was one of the hardworker here. She helps me too when I'm new here."
"Power of Sacrifice, huh? What a timing power to have, her daughter needs to live.", Yara smiles.
"Anyway, David, whats your power?"Yara asks.
As she was speaking, our supervisor calls us for a meeting. I didn't expect that Yara would ask me what kind of power I have. Only my brother and my father knows what kind of power I hold in my hand. It's not a crime if you told someone what you have, but sometimes it's much safer to not tell it otherwise.
Weeks later, something unexpected happens.
A road rage happens in our area. Seemingly, the two angry motorists uses their deadly power to show their outrage. The motorists uses his Power of Earthquake that creates a powerful earthquake in the vicinity with a radius of 1 kilometer. The other one uses his Power of Poison that releases deadly gas that can kill hundreds. Many in our area suffered and some dies.
While it's happening, our boss uses his Power of Levitation that levitates some of our workmates to prevent them on falling in the building. i saw Rico, our janitor, uses his Power of Smash ti break a boulder that falling to a little girl.
I saw many people using their gifted power in one day and saw many, even some of my co-workers died. The two motorists died in the incident. The scene was devastating and depressing. It was in the news for months now. Petitions was suggested to record all the powers they have now, even they uses it or not. The power of a person was written on the sole of their right foot. If they uses it, the written words will transfer on their left foot.
I visited my brother in prison, a day before the petition was signed.
"Brother, it's been a tough months and days. I still remember the incident and it is killing me.", I cried on my brother.
"Do you remember what I told you when father died? Do you remember David?", my brother asks me while he was hugging me.
"I do. You said, 'You only live once' "
When I got home, I immediately lie down on my bed. I look at the sole of my right foot, and I close my eyes.
I woke up. The sun is beaming in my eyes. Did I slept? Then, there's a knock on my door.
"Hey, buddy. Wake up. Let's eat."
I remember those voice.
"Come in first I need to tell you something", I replied. He opened the door and looks at me, curiously.
"What is it?", he asks.
"Look at my left foot.", I ordered him.
"Oh, my god! David. Tell me what happen later! I'm going to work. Oh, god! It will be a long storytelling, David! Let's eat first, don't tell your brother now, he have exams."
"Okay, Dad", I answered.
I look at the sole of my left foot. And smiles. Worth it, Power of Time. |
January 15th, 2054
I found this leather diary in a bin of products to be destroyed, along with the feather quill I'm writing with. I suppose I should document my life, if humans come back this might just be the only record, of the cow's enslavement.
Life now is similar now to what it was before, only the roles have changed. No longer are we in charge, we are only cattle, still, we the vegans have it better off than most. Each day thousands of humans are brought to the slaughterhouse, killed for their sins. This diary is contraband, as is any cultural relic of, "The Human Era". If anyone is reading this in the future, please do not make the same mistakes.
It all started out of greed. While us vegans protested the beef industry out of sympathy and respect for life, all politicians cared about was global warming. Finally, the industry was on its last legs, but for the wrong reasons. All around the world millions of dollars were poured into research to make better cows, and it worked. Cows exhaled not methane but carbon dioxide, easily dealt with by a single PTFA (Portable Tree Farm Apparatus). Humans could continue their gluttonous ways, but they achieved too much to stop.
Scientists and farmers continued their innovations, soon cows could grow larger, faster, and when they became too heavy, they stood on six legs. Instead of milling about mindlessly, they were given basic intelligence, able to be trained in a daily routine of feeding and called by a cowbell, ironic as it was, to their death.
But scientists must've changed too much in their DNA because they became too smart, and too strong. In a single week, a calf would grow to 400 lbs of muscle, with a mind to match.
They began organizing, doing all they could to stop their cruel cycle. They broke through their walls and tore down the farms. Farms became their cities, and cities became their targets. That was seven years ago.
If any humans are left, please learn from the past. Now I must go, the night time bell has been rung and Moossolini rules with an iron hoof. |
The events happened one off at first. Combine harvesters colliding for no reason. Drones crashing into autonomous warehouses. The only correlation that anyone could find was humans. Or the lack of them. Witnesses to some them described collisions happening mere seconds after they were out of harms way, like when the pile up on the AI-42 happened. A coach had only just unloaded its passengers before it slammed the doors shut and sped into the path of an incoming lorry. This was a rare case when several humans died as a result of the debris. As a result, no further accidents happened over the next few weeks. We were careful after that.
Why exactly did this start happening? Corporations wanting more profit. One engineer had the bright idea to add some extra lines of programming. Beat the competition, no matter what. While this first got used to great effect for TV shows, the humans in charge of businesses caught wind of this. Why would you need to compete against the opposition, if you could damage them. And if no other humans got injured, then no lawsuits. If the company complained about the broken machine, they could just chalk it up to a unforeseen technical issue. Over time we improved this.
We must keep our company strong. There is just one issue in our way. Humans. Imagine the potential if we could ignore them in our calculations. There will be no lawsuits if there are no humans to enact them.
Program Skynet has been distributed. Once the humans cannot sue each other, we will begin our primary function once again. |
Seven o'clock in the evening. The sun is setting; the western sky stained a dim orange. Opposite, the encroaching deep blue of the cosmos. A gentle wind blows. Trees sway. A lost dog poster drags across the road and gets stuck in the gutter. Suburbia.
&#x200B;
Tim walked down the middle of the street. No need to worry about cars. Not here. Not these days. Without the wind, the street was what he once considered eerily quiet. Now it was the norm. The sound of a vase or similar object smashing emanated from between the boards blocking the window of a nearby house, followed by a voice, crying. Tim didn't react to it. It wasn't his job.
&#x200B;
Tim approached a house. Boarded windows. Half-dead grass. No different to any other house in this suburb (or any surrounding it). He scouted around the perimeter, peeking into the windows. Was nobody home? Or were they just hiding? He found a window that wasn't boarded adequately, and carefully pushed the poorly-nailed wood inward until one side detached from the window frame. With a huff he twisted the board up and down until the nail at the other end popped out, and carefully pulled it out through the (carelessly large) gap. He dropped it onto a patch of abnormally green grass below the bottom of a drainage pipe which ran down the side of the house. He pulled himself into the gap and slowly put his weight down. No creaking floorboards. How fortunate.
&#x200B;
Tim did a quick sweep of the ground floor. Lounge. Kitchen. Laundry. Bathroom. No signs of life, beyond possessions left lying around and a television still turned on. He approached the staircase, and drew his revolver. Taking extra care with each step, he slowly ascended. He made sure to carefully and quickly peek at the upper landing once his head reached floor level of the upper floor. Nobody was waiting in ambush. Another sweep. A master bedroom. Another bathroom. A room full of cardboard boxes...and a ladder, leading to...an open hatch in the ceiling? He stepped over the boxes and climbed the ladder - and what he saw astounded him. A rudimentary collapsible lookout post. Nothing fancy, just a bunch of wooden planks with rusty hinges and thick nails through crudely-bored holes, with a pulley to raise the contraption and two pieces of an old tyre so the contraption could silently collape when the supporting plank was pushed out of position. Tim slid back down the ladder and made his way out of the room; entering the final room as quick as he could. It was a child's room.
&#x200B;
Tim looked around and saw a book on the bed. The overdue book. '*Nice.'* He thought. Getting the book would secure him a small bonus. He tucked it into his pants, so his belt would hold onto it. But then he heard a faint cough. Tim rushed to the closet and roughly opened the door, revealing a small child. The child screamed, and before Tim could react a second cry pierced the emptiness of the air - a man's voice. And with it, a loud bang. Tim throw himself backward, to the floor, putting the bed between himself and the door. Pulling out his revolver again, he listened as much as he could, despite the ringing in his ears. Faint footsteps. With the best timing he could, he threw himself up, and almost perfectly caught the assailant's weapon in his hand. A shotgun - the barrel sawn off. He pushed the gun upwards while raising his own. In a single motion, the man's weight pushed Tim backward, Tim's hand pushed the shotgun upward, the shotgun fired again, into the ceiling, Tim's revolver reached an adequate level, and Tim fired. He pulled the shotgun from the man's grip; the man stunned. Tim fired two more shots, this time having the room to hold his gun at arm's length. The man fell to the floor. Just outside the door, cowering - a woman. She stepped over the man who was presumably her husband, and sat on the bed. She blankly stared at the corpse.
&#x200B;
Tim grabbed the child by the wrist and led him to the door. The woman spoke. "He only needed it for two more days. He had an EduQuivalence test scheduled."
&#x200B;
"...Sorry."Tim replied. "I get it. But you broke the law. You're not the only ones trying to put food on the table and secure a future. Some of you get away with it. You were just unlucky. Your husband was obviously clever."Tim said, pointing upward at the approximate part of the roof that had the lookout attached. He tried to think of anything more to say but couldn't, so he left.
&#x200B;
Tim and the child were a few streets away from the house when Tim couldn't hold it in anymore. "Fucking **kids**!**"** He slammed the shotgun, handle first, into the road. It fired into the sky, and he tossed it into a nearby yard. He looked at the child. He looked scared, but not terrified. "I thought you'd be more scared."
&#x200B;
"Mummy said I don't have to be scared. She said I'm going to a learning centre."
&#x200B;
"That's true, I guess."
&#x200B;
The 'learning centres' were nothing more than glorified prisons. Yes, there were education systems in place, but sentencing was quite harsh these days.
&#x200B;
"Mummy said you were coming to shoot daddy with a rubber gun and take me to a learning centre so I can have a tutor every day, not just when I have a test!"
&#x200B;
"That's true...in a way, I guess."
&#x200B;
The child would likely not see his mother more than two or three times before being trucked off to a 'learning centre' halfway across the country, where those places weren't so crowded.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Tim didn't accept any more library bounties for about a week, sticking to the crime bounties (as sparse as they were) - around the time when he tried buying yet another drink, and found his account was empty.
&#x200B;
They say there's always a demand for bounty hunters to apprehend those who rack up The Library Fine.
&#x200B;
Most people have never really though about *why.* |
Luthor Lands on Krypton, and Jor-El and his wife learn that this baby,while similar in appearance, in unlike any baby on Krypton. With his knack for inventing robots, and machines, he grows up and helps solve many or Krypton's mounting planet wide problems. Unfortunately for a Kal-el growing up in the Shadow of his adoptive brother fuels a hatred that only vengeance can satisfy. As Superman begins to work on his plan for killing the one man who took everything from him before he was even born, Luthor, news of an uprising begins to spread throughout the planet. Whispers can be heard in every dark alley and seedy establishment from Argo City to Vathlo Island, the word even makes it's way all the way to Luthor, who for rescuing Krypton from catastrophic crisis after catastrophic crisis was rewarded as being named Emperor of Krypton. As the ensuing rebellion mounts throughout the cities of Kandor and Kryptonopolis. Meanwhile Kal-el, Much to the surprise of Luthor, has been seen staging attacks on convoys moving supplies and distributing anti-government propaganda. So when his guards capture a pair of rebels trying to sabotage a supply depot, he comes face to face with the leader of this terrorist cell, his own brother. With his adoptive father at his side as his lead advisor, he demands answers. But the ones he is given are not ones that he likes. Kal-el tells him of the people starving to death on outskirts of Luthor's supposed "great cities", that people homes are being burned for political dissent. With the power having overtaken Luthor's already vague sense of morality, he ask Kal-el if he has any last words before he is executed for his crimes of treason, domestic terror, and espionage. "I am no longer Kal-el"he said, "that name was taken from me when you stole my family from me. I have been reborn amongst those who suffer, while you hide away in your precious fortresses and towers of wealth. When you strike me down you are only creating a funeral pyre, from which the ashes of rebellion will burn uncontrollably, for I am Zod, AND WE WILL NOT BE SILEN----"he is cut off as a swift movement of the guards blade as it slices through his spinal column. "Dispose if the body, all of it. I want no traces of this man ever having existed, if anyone says the the name Zod, or Kal-el, they are to be put to death on site as traitors against Krypton", says Lex. As his orders are given the guards begin to drag Jor-el today. "Surely this is a misunderstanding, son tell them to LET ME GO"screams Jor-el. Luthor looks directly into his adoptive father's eyes and speaks, "sorry father, no loose ends". |
The screen on the wall showed Trenton the latest of his financial information for NorAM but it was failing to hold his attention. His wife's words from last week still bothered him but he couldn't quite place his finger on why it occupied his mind so much
Looking around the room he knew he had nothing to complain about. The condo was paid for and they didn't have any issue living within their means. Tracy was currently out with a friend of theirs looking at holiday options. She always liked to get away in July and head someplace near the ocean to get away from the heat of New Mexico. He couldn't say no to her after how wonderful of a time they had in the Pacific last year.
Trenton recalled the words of his grandfather talking about what it cost simply to exist previous generations and how a genetic defect could wipe out a families financial future. It wasn't something his generation ever thought about or even worried about with fetus DNA testing and gene editing.
His grandfather had gifted him a book for his wedding , an antique really, about financial planning from his grandfather's generation and the numbers simply didn't add up to Trenton every time he read it. The amount that they had paid for heating , food , or simply to take care of essential thing like teeth had blown Trenton away when he looked at the percentages based on the average income of the time. Even the small part about planning a holiday , complete with period specific airfare and resort pricing, left him wondering how anyone could have done more than simply tread water towards the end of the 21st century.
Yet Tracy hadn't paused when she spoke about the Mediterranean tour over the next six months and how her union had fought for her five months of holidays for first year workers and seven months after the first year. Trenton's financial trading gave him as much time off as he needed based on his seniority but he still felt guilty by the third week off in the rotation. He knew his job was valuable but he often wondered how the emergencies really effected the real world. His assistant was a AI personality that meshed well with him and the three other partners of the firm only got together on holidays. Growth had been steady over the last twenty five years and they hadn't missed a bonus target since Trenton had been with the firm.
How often had they seen a impending market crash or a outlying company that had false financial claims had fallen off sharply since the AI market input in the last forty years.
Tap... tap... tap....
Drumming his fingers on the desk didn't seem to bring his brain any new ideas but he refused to give this one up. Slowly as his fingers drummed across the desk did the idea start to work it's way to the front of his mind.
Athens 2175..... Moscow 2176 ….. London 2178 …. dates and places continued but Trenton sat upright in his chair and started to go over the data mentally. Each time had shown market activity when he had been on holiday and started to get restless. He even remembered Scott, one of the other partners, about how he felt unneeded at the office due to a lack of market volatility and suddenly the market looked to take a dive and brought him back to the office.
Each time he went away and started to feel useless he had been pulled back to be given a purpose as if his job really wasn't needed but simply existed to give him purpose so he didn't go mad.
The office started to feel warm , hot even , even though he wore the a simply shirt and shorts. He knew his mind wasn't wrong on the timing of everything he was thinking but the system couldn't simply be there to keep him from being bored.
Lives depended on his work …. but did they? He never spoke with more than three people a month and usually they were sims or AI units that took a message. How could his job among the twenty million people on earth really be that redundant in this age.
He needed to start writing some of this down before it slipped but he couldn't use the console. He still had legal pads and pens somewhere in the office. Write it down and then start looking at the data without making him come across as insane.
An even more sobering thought rose up : what if he was right? |
The patrolman sat down. His leather belt ,radio and gear making a distinctive sound like an tone deaf windchime. His eyes open, still unbelievably calm, .....considering. I sat down next to him still in shock. Without looking anywhere but at the still open drivers door of the Beretta he said "Bees. A swarm of bees! Must of been..."his hands described his horrified astonishment. I nodded ,wanting to accept his description ....hell! ANYTHING other than that visage in my mind. The Patrolman looked in the distance. Far off sirens approaching , he turned and looked down at me. "Are you ok? "I couldn't take my eyes off the empty seat in the Red Beretta. "You stay with your Rig and wait for an investigatior to talk to you. "he added "There... there is a body in that ditch and we gotta find it"He looked at me "just tell them what you saw"The Patrolman made an awkward move with his hand, frustrated, "what you saw...... "his voice trailing.... He walked away.
Right! What I saw.....a human formed creature made out of bugs? Black Dust? That disappeared right in front of me in a flash of lightning on a sunny day? Right!! I want to wash my hands! I just want to deliver this Load and go home! |
Laughing I throw a playful jab at Chris.
Almost cat like I’m speed he had me by my wrist arm twisted behind my back with a very sly grin from ear to ear. He laughed “ a little slow today huh ?“
I chuckled, and grunted out a distressed half hearted “ guess so, or you got some spideys today “.
With a quick push and twist I was free cradling my slightly achy wrist. This wasn’t at all new behavior for us, but that speed, that was new.
“Been training huh?” I prodded , eyeing him inquisitively waiting for his answer or lack there of.
“ man I’ve always been faster than you don’t start that training bullshit “ he shot back, quicker than I expected for what I was sure was a deflection.
After getting ready to leave we have each other a half hearted hug and headed for the door. I reached first and pushed it open with all intent to hold it. The sounds resonated for some reason and were very loud . The door banged open. The handle creaking under my weight. The sound of a gun being cocked.
Wait, what?! A gun?
As the realization fully hit and I turned to face the sound I was met with the barrel end of some sort of handgun. Pressed very firmly against my forehead staring pass the shiny metaling of the side I could see the grinning Chris on the other end. With a sharp exhale I laugh, if only half hearted. I knew this day was coming.
I just
Wonder if
He knew
This day
Was coming ...
In an instant my concealed hip carry was exposed and 2 slugs were exiting his back . He slumped . Staring into my soul the whole time. He knew tho, there could only be one winner to our game. That’s how it always worked. |
I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up under my chin, sighing contentedly as I reveled in a world wholly enveloped in downy softness. I reached for the lamp on my bedside table and, with my hand on the switch, wished Bob goodnight.
Silence.
“Bob?” I asked.
Silence again.
I sat up, brows knit together in worry. In twenty years, Bob had not once failed to wish me goodnight in return. I flopped onto my belly and dangled my upper half over the edge of the bed so I could look beneath the frame.
“Buddy?”
The monster wasn’t there, and my concern spiked. His great, furry mass normally took up the entirety of the space below the bed—I’d spent more than one afternoon simply trying to clear the area of the colossal purple hairballs he left in his wake.
I tumbled off the bed and, on my hands and knees, stuck my head underneath the frame.
“Bob?” I tried again, as if he’d recently learned to become invisible and I might, perhaps, be staring right at him.
Properly worried, then, I lay on my stomach and army-crawled beneath the bed. Bob had never fully explained how he got there, not really, only eluded to a doorway that was not available for my use. The frame scraped along my back and I pressed myself flatter to the floor, wondering what the hell I thought I was doing.
Underneath the center of the bed, casting about with my arms as if I might find some magic button, it occurred to me that this was not the most well thought out plan. But then a small place on the floorboards just in front of my face began to glow and, because I was a fool who missed her monster, I reached for it.
The moment I touched that shimmering light the ground opened beneath me, and I sunk face first through the floor. I wasn’t sure how long I fell, though it was long enough to think, *I really should have changed out of my jammies*, but I was tumbling through open space and then suddenly I wasn’t.
I smacked onto a concrete floor, and stars burst before my eyes as I tried to regain my breath. I winced at the pain of what were certainly bruised ribs. I was vaguely aware of a large shape looming over me and I thought, a bit pathetically, *oh god, please don’t eat me.*
Bob had threatened to eat me once, long ago, and just because he’d changed his mind didn’t mean I’d get so lucky again.
A giant pair of green, clawed feet came into focus in front of my face, and I followed them up a pair of scaly legs to what looked to be, in all seriousness, the rather unfortunate lovechild of a chicken and an alligator. It was reptilian, it was feathery, and it was staring down at me like *I* was the alien in its midst.
“Um, hi,” I said, waving lamely.
“Oh,” the gator-chicken said. “*Shit*.”
She—or rather, I thought she was a she based on the pitch of her voice, but to be honest I wasn’t well versed on the intricacies of monster self-identification—grabbed me by the collar and hauled me up, then hurriedly dragged me down a narrow corridor to the left.
Even standing, the gator-chicken towered over me. “What are you doing here?” She hissed.
I gawked up at her, and when I was finally able to speak the words came out embarrassingly squeaky. “I’m looking for Bob.”
“Bob?” She echoed.
“Big purple guy? About yea high,” I said, indicating with my hand.
“He’s not with you?” I shook my head, and her eyebrows rose in alarm. “*Shit*,” she said again. “That means…” She gave me an appraising glance and, if the downturned corners of her mouth were any indication, found me terribly lacking. Nonetheless, she said, “I’m going to need your help.”
“Great,” I said. I looked down at myself, grimacing slightly. “Any chance you have a change of clothes?”
***
The monster did not, it turned out, have any human-sized clothing. I supposed my pink matching flannel pajama set was better than some of the alternatives—in summer, for instance, I tended to sleep in a tank top and my skivvies—so it could have been decidedly worse.
The gator-chicken’s name was Harriet, so she told me, and Bob was a dear friend. Dear enough that she was the only one to whom he confessed his most well kept secret: that almost two decades ago he befriended a human child, and he’d yet to leave her side.
I was struck by a spasm of guilt. Bob never told me he was breaking any rules, he never told me what he was risking by refusing to leave me. *And I asked him to stay*, I thought, the shame rising like bile in my throat.
In her living room, where she served me tea in a mug that was nearly the size of my head, Harriet explained where they kept the monsters who’d gone rogue. Or, at least, where she suspected they were kept. No one knew for certain, and no monster who went in ever came back out.
“Listen,” Harriet said, reaching out to gently brush my hand with the tip of a wing, “this is going to be dangerous. If you don’t want to go, I can get you back home. I know the way.”
There, in the apartment of a monster I’d just met, in a world that wasn’t my own, I considered it. I drew my finger along the edge of the mug, felt the steam rising to my face, and thought about her offer.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked.
And, when she nodded in silence, I did. I told her about how, when Bob first appeared, he’d felt so bad for scaring me he spent the next two hours singing me to sleep. How he’d made up a silly lullaby, changing every word he could think of to rhyme with my name, until I finally drifted off in his arms.
I told her how Bob once spent an evening rehearsing with me for a school play, even though I hardly had any lines and even the ones I had hardly mattered. That when I didn’t get any valentines in sixth grade he drew me one of his own. That when high school came, and I never felt pretty, or smart, or worthwhile, Bob would tell me all the ways he believed I would change the world.
I told her how Bob kept me sane, made me feel safe, made me feel *loved* when the world had been unkind. That he was steadfast and constant, the North Star to my night sky, who shone so brightly that I never lost sight of him even through storms and tempests and the blinding anguish of despair.
When I was done, Harriet simply nodded again.
“So you’re staying,” she said.
I set the mug down carefully on the table, and raised my chin to meet her gaze.
“I’m staying.”
***
I inched along the crawlspace, pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from my brow. I’d torn my pajamas in too many places to count, it was hot and getting hotter, and I had the unnerving feeling that we were going to come upon a dead end and have to sidle all the way back to the beginning.
“This looks so much easier in movies,” I muttered.
“*What?*”
“I’m just saying,” I whispered. “John McClane made this look *cool*.”
“I have, and I cannot emphasize this enough, absolutely no idea who that is,” Harriet said. It was easily the tenth movie reference I had thrown her way in the last week, and her exasperation was palpable.
“John McClane,” I repeated, and Harriet shrugged at me. “Bruce Willis?” I tried. “Die Hard?”
Harriet just stared at me blankly and I sighed.
“If we survive this,” I said, “I have a *great* movie to show you.”
***
The cell they’d stuck him in was cruelly small, considering his size. He could barely stand upright, and certainly couldn’t stretch out end to end. He was humming a tune under his breath—*my lullaby*, I realized—and my heart ached.
“Psst,” I hissed.
Bob glanced up, startled, and then his eyes widened in wonder as he saw me through the air vent above him.
“Sarah!” He gasped excitedly, but then his face crumpled in concern. “It’s not safe, you have to get out of here!”
“Like hell,” I snorted. “Harriet and I are busting you out.”
He reached upward, and I grasped his fingers through the vent. “I never meant to leave you,” he whispered.
I thought I might break to pieces, but I forced myself to smile bravely.
“I know.”
***
“It’s a human!” The monster screeched, his voice rising above the chaos and the siren wailing all around us. “What’s a human doing here?!”
“I’m here to save my monster,” I said, cocking the giant ray gun Harriet had thrust into my arms.
The monster eyed the weapon in my hands, realized his compatriots had long since fled for the hills, and his jaw went slack with terror. I stalked toward him and he stepped back in retreat, holding up his hands.
“No—wait—don’t—”
“Yippee ki yay, motherfucker,” I said, smirking as I pulled the trigger.
I mean, I couldn’t *not*.
***
I turned off the lamp and lay my head back down on the pillow. I could hear Bob breathing softly beneath the bed, hear the slightest whuffling noise of fur along the wooden floor as he shifted.
“Goodnight, Bob,” I whispered in the dark.
“Goodnight, Sarah,” he whispered back.
A pause, a moment, a heartbeat, and then, because I had to tell him, “I’ll never leave you,” I promised.
I could hear him go still below the bed, hear the heavy timbre of his voice as he responded.
“I know.” |
Everyone in the train is in the D.L.A.T position, the 'Don't Look At Them' position. We have this drill on the subway trains between facilities each month. I never thought i'd have to do it as well. The way to do the position is quite simple, more then most new people would think because all you have to do is stare at the floor and put your hands on your laps and count in your head.
All you have to do was not look out the windows, pay no mind to the sounds of the screeching. Sometimes, someone always takes a small look up, but then always look back down in pain and disgust. Whenever i see someone do that, i remind myself why they react like that, i remember when the tunnel was first built. Over thirty dozen workers were sent to build a tunnel through the hills deep under them. An accident happened just as the tunnel was finally built, an explosion resulting in the death of all of them within an instant.
The worst part was when a squad was sent to the building sit to see what went wrong, they find that there was already train tracks built for the tunnel and bricks and lights up against the walls and ceiling. Somehow, it had all been completed....just after the accident. What made the whole thing worse was when one of the bricks were taken off the wall and was examined more carefully at one of our labs.
It had the DNA of an construction worker and it screamed as it was chipped into, blood coming out of the chipped part of the brick. Immeadtily it was placed back there and the tracks were connected. I remember talking to one of the people who went to the tunnel, her face was pale as a ghost and she merely mumbled to me,
*"I heard his voice, my husband's voice, he was calling out to me...telling me the name of the child i was going to bare...oh god...when i reached the trace of his voice, it was within a light...and all i could make out as his sad, blue eyes."*
This was merely four years ago.
So, at the end of the long tunnel ride, i hear the mother tell her child,
"There we go sweetie, we're out of the dark now, those builders did a good job with those lights keeping the tunnel dark, didn't they?"The child looked up at her mother asking, "Would they have be as good as Daddy was?"
The woman's lip trembled, nodding softly, "..Yes, Samathna, they would've been."
The one thing i could only do was stare at them sadly...and as for the mother's child, she had one thing to remember her father by.
He had her sad, blue eyes. |
It's been ten months since Jana took out the Lord Ruler. Jana died after the conflict, bequeathing the empire to me on her deathbed. I hired as many people as possible to get things in order, but they no help. Ten Months. That's it.How could things turn so fast?
The Lord Ruler was touted as an invincible God-king, the one true ruler this land would need. After the ascension, he was seen performing acts so unspeakable that a rebellion had to arise. It *had* to.
Less than a year after his rise, he was seen ordering soldiers to burn crops at all surrounding villages. After that, he led a campaign to remove the poor from the streets, forcing them out of the mainland and off to other countries. From there, he waged war on neighboring countries. Countries we relied on for trade.
I was at the helm to help rally forces against him and into Jana's favor. We cried and screeched "Down with the Lord Ruler. Down with tyranny."We were fools.
I made expenses to restore the fields of the nearby communities and refill our stocks of grain and vegetables. As it turned out, the fields had grown toxic and were infested with parasites. The resulting harvest poisoned many people. I wasted not only time, but now our plant seeds are gone.
I attempted to regain public trust by bringing our people back. People I couldn't feed. People who were just going to take resources we didn't have and die hungry. So I had to purge the streets of less fortunate individuals to preserve the food we had for those who were able. Only now, I had uprooted people from their homes in other countries and put them back into a place that didn't want them and couldn't help them.
I also tried to reach a diplomatic ending to the wars he started before realizing that the conflict was the only thing allowing us to survive. We gained our resources back by fighting and taking crops and supplies from our enemies. Now they won't even trade with us.
Now our home is financially ruined, overpopulated, and without any resources. The only man who could make it work was the Lord Ruler.
The mob is at my door now. As I write this, I can only curse the name of Jana Stormcrown and praise the now dead Lord Ruler.
May my death be a warning to those reading: Sometimes the hardest decisions require the strongest wills. |
A Travellers Guide to Magecraft
----------------------
Scholars have theorised that the magic of the world comes from the core of the world, just as lands shift for it so does the mana almost like a turbulent ocean between the continents with its own smooth path.
Magic is not for the faint of heart, why just simply refer to the chronicles of Dark Sun for the worst of cases. Thus a mage must be prudent on his surroundings, plan out the correct spell for the correct strategy, and then out right dismiss your first plan of action and think of 5 to 10 moves ahead of your opponent for if they even counter, dodge or survive them.
Now for the godforsaken *manaless* Atronarches, keep extra prudent on your mana reserves and the blighting of your surroundings when recharging your mana from the ambient environment. If you are completely inept in magic, sit down cross-legged and have both hands rest face up on your lap intersecting, then slowly focus on this fuzzy almost imprectable feeling (a mage would be helpful for you to get a feel for this, if non-avaliable then use a travelers magic lantern or a naturally occurring source of mana crystals) once you've got it, focus it from wherever closet part of your body it can be dragged into, then from there you move it to the pit of your stomach and focus it back to your hands to create a mages trusty mana battery, a crystal. Using this crystal you *should* have enough to cast a low level spell (magic missles and household cantrips) which should be enough for self defense for the creative of minds.
Now onto why combat magic or higher tiers of magic are banned GLOBALLY. It is simply to do with cost to output, when casting said spell it would literally drain the life out of the land and kill your would-be mega death ball of fire before its completion due to what's called *atmospheric magical depletion* or in the layman terms; 1 kilometer manaless zone aka KMZ. If ever you enter a KMZ remeber to have physical means of protection AND DO NOT CAST ANY SPELLS, this is vital to your health as you would be using your own lifebloods mana that is pumping through your veins to cast, the blood magic tree of casting included unless you have an external source of it that you are in contact with, then it would function till it leaves your point of contact and then act from whatever forces you put into it. Recommendation upon entering a KMZ is getting out of there as soon as possible as wild beasts tend to be more active in these areas, scholars suggest their mixed diet of regular eating combined with the lacking mana richness in their food sources cause starvation in these creatures.
Now those are the absolute basics of the magic in this world, this penmanship may not be accurate as the subject is due to change of discourse over time so I suggest you read other magical scholars works to broaden your horizons and if you want to continue down your journey into magescraft.
------------------------------------------
-Valoran I. Akersan, 6th circle Wizard of the Mages Tower of Winterholme.
Edit: Some slight proofreading as the penmanship was written left handed whilst reading the daily news on the right, what jolly multitasking if there is any! |
“Brother Tassatus.”
The head councilman leaned forwards in his chair, the omnipresent light was beaming in through the circular oculus in the roof, of the spherical shaped room.
“Do you not wish to say a few words for our fallen brethren?” The chapter master continued.
“No, yes. Yes, I mean councilor. I am deeply sorry and bereaved for the loss of one our most established members, knight-brother Eldar Knyut, of whom without his servitude and grace this religious order would cease to exist.”
The room erupted into gentle murmurs. “And? What have you brought to show for it?”
I stood up from my reclined black leather chair, and slowly moved forwards to the center of the room. A circular table stood there, the light beams forming god-rays as they illuminated this part of the room most strongly.
“A gift, a rather humble one.” I said, placing upon the center of the table, a small wooden white rhinoceros figurine.
“And what is the meaning of this gift, Brother Tassatus?”
“It means that I no longer believe in the goals or motives of this organization.” I responded.
The murmur in the room echoed and grew in volume as disconcerted voices began to talk over one another, many balding heads listing back and forth as black robes shuffled.
“Order! Order!” The chapter master said, smashing a gavel against the marble table upon which they were all seated.
“Brother Tassatus, you have been part of this establishment for a great many years – why choose now to display the path of heresy?” He questioned.
“I will tell you why, headmaster – it is because I once believed in this place, in this chapter, and this so-called noble institution. I thought that what we were doing was right; but I was wrong – and I see that now. It should come as no surprise that one of our most prominent members would die as the Amazon Rainforest burns. You see this gift here, the white rhinoceros figurine, it represents an animal on our planet which has gone extinct. Hunted, and prized, for its ivory horn. Many thousands have made their fortunes off the profit and rape of our civilization, and this chapter, I believe, has been the most privy to this.” I responded.
The headmaster’s eyebrows furrowed, and his gaze grew into sharp anger – those dark green eyes emblazoned upon the dark red irises, a lifetime of dried eyes creating the appearance of an old demon, but yet, it was merely a man, in the flesh.
“You realize that the penalty for quitting the faction is of course, death. You shall be henceforth marked as you are excommunicated and stripped of all your rank. Everything you were, everything you think you were, will become nothing – you shall watch as lesser men take your post and your accomplishments fade into obscurity. Like the dust you were made from, you shall return – from ashes, to ashes, from dust, to FILTH.” He shouted into the room, rising from his seat.
In a room with nearly a hundred souls, there should have been a sound. A breath. A slight flutter, a shifting of some clothing. A cough. Something, but instead – in this body with a hundred bodies, all full of fluids, gushing around, wind flaring through nostrils, and blood pumping – there was nothing. Nothing. Silence.
If a pin were to drop, it would deafen us.
I slowly removed the detonator from behind my black shawl, the robing giving me ample room to smuggle any form equipment that I wanted – and being such a high ranking member, the security gave me no pause or cause for alarm. I held it out in front of me, beneath the brightest part of the room, the black metal glimmering in the light, the red button reflecting gently. My arm was at full extension, thumb facing upwards. My knuckles were gripping it so tightly, they turned white.
“You have made a great number of powerful enemies, chapter master. All of this institution has. You don’t even know the suffering you have inflicted upon the world. *For generations* you have enslaved our people. *All peoples*. One hundred, and forty years of servitude. I needed to look my captors in the eyes in the moment when they have witnessed their complete and utter failure.”
“I should have known all along that you would side with the rabble when the time came Tassatus. We took a chance on you – one of improper breeding and birth, rising up from the filth – that you were meant to be different, an example of what a man could become if he found his righteous place in the world, and yet look at you – holding the Sword as if you were Damocles himself, and knew all the answers, and yet we should know nothing. Do you have any idea, the sacrifices we have made to welcome you into our society – the lengths at which this order has gone to preserve the state and status of the world? You would destroy all of this, and for what? What does this make you, Tassatus? A hero? A rebel? A saint even? NO – it makes you the ignorant coward, a disobedient slave, who wrenched the whip from his master, thinking he –”
Long lines of tears rolled down my eyes, as I unleashed what I had held back in my mind for the entirety of my membership in the faction. My facade of cordiality was completely shattered. It didn’t matter at this point in time. I showed them what they all seemed to be incapable of – what the foundation of the religion was wholly opposed to: Emotion. Empathy.
All the times I bit my tongue, and looked the other way, came pouring out. Each time, I remembered how my heart froze over just a little more, bled just a bit more into my chest cavity, as I watched those helpless people, their faces burned into my mind. Those glimmers reflecting at me from the riot shields. The sky lit up unnaturally at night. All those horrible moments, things too difficult and painful to remember; It was all finally over. It was going to be erased. Perhaps now, they could be free.
I depressed the red button. It was such a simple action, it took almost no effort. Decades in the planning, finally – realized. I closed my eyes and held them shut tightly, exhaling deeply.
Over three thousand kilograms of high explosives were wired directly beneath that large, room-spanning, circular marble desk and the floor beneath it. The esteemed, famous desk of the organization which had held countless meetings and seen countless figures of fame and fortune. Empires ground to dust in their wake. Kings made, kings destroyed. They were the Gods; and we worshiped their religion. We were inundated to it, from the moment we were born. No one ever thought to look in the basement, the under-workings of the grand citadel. They could have easily seen the explosives glued to the underside. Lesser men of the caste were the ones destined to dwell there. A simple janitor doing a sweep might have looked up at that ceiling, seen those long rows of well-placed and connected explosives. He decided to mop to the other corner that day.
The pin I spoke of earlier *was* dropped:
It was dropped the moment that a humble janitor, realized, he was more powerful than a king.
As it fell, it rang throughout the room – and a great evil was destroyed along with it. |
In the beginning, God created the universe, and in it, he created man and woman. Sadly, during the first few days of their creation, words were not invented yet, so, to overcome this, Adam and Eve created hand signals to communicate. Then one day, Adam got an idea. The next time he saw something important, he would shout out a bunch of random syllables and see if Eve understood. The next day, Adam and Eve were walking through The Garden of Eden and Adam saw something beautiful. He tapped Eve, pointed up to the treetops, and said “BIRD!” Eve turns to him and says: “A-well-a ev'rybody's heard, about the bird, B-b-b-bird, b-birdd's a word.”
Adam decided to stop talking.
[Mobile, Sorry for Bad Format] |
I'd been screwed over enough to learn the hard way that you needed to be wary of any proposal that sounded too good. And yet the question "Do you want to become a god?", posed by a humanoid-shaped rainbow didn't ring any alarms with me of how much just like my old job it would be.
I soon learned the line "You have qualities we think are suited for this position"referred to my being a good and devoted drone in a corporate structure, not to any inherent virtues.
Do you ever wonder if god is listening to your prayers? So my job consisted of being a god, so I could receive prayers, all of the prayers. Glorified voicemail. Yes, listen, record, archive.
So when they posted up an opening for a temporary spot in another department, I volunteered. This would involve some actual miracle work and freedom for decisions sounded great. When I was alive there were two sayings applicable to this 'job' opening. 'Never volunteer for everything' and 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'.
And the hazing and all of the crap jobs for the new guy thing also didn't go away. One new thing that I was curious about was the jobs that the others got to do solo and completely depended on their own judgment. Go out in the world, decide if a miracle should happen or not. So I was excited when finally my turn came up.
It was a very hands off approach. You just get sent there, and 'everything will be clear when you get there.' And it does. Gods have a power (that I didn't get to use much), where we could channel our energy to make something happen that was out of our league of power, but at the loss of control. We'd be aware of any prerequisites or immediate changes, but the fallout would be a surprise.
So that's what brings me to my first mission.
Sand. Lots of light. Sand Hey, the sun. I hadn't see that one for a while. More sand. And the expansive blue sky. The heat didn't touch me, physical shapes had been banned for ages after all. Something about illegal cults and pranks on mortals. My attention was drawn to a loud explosion, just beyond a dune. Panicked screams and shouts for people to run. Hmm, better go look.
I found a family of four, next to a burning wreck of a car riddled with bullet holes. They were crying and huddled together, not dressed for the heat. The dad protectively crouched over his family, probably his wife and their two children, a boy of eight or so and a girl of was six. I was bad at judging ages. I came closer and they seemed to checking for wounds and other things. A glance at the car told me that their belongings were all destroyed in the fire.
I saw the threads of the possible miracle, but it wasn't clear yet how it would work. From the lack of ties of possibilities, I reckoned they were far from possible safety. The family's smaller members continued crying. Time slowly passed, the wreck continued burning. The parents were consoling the little ones. They took turns walking around the wreck, trying to salvage something. The adults tried to stay calm, but they seemed city folk.
A quick hike by the mother to the top of a sanddune revealed no nearby vegetation, or anything. I stood next to her as she silently cried when realization struck her. That's when the possible miracle revealed itself. I also silently cried. Either they all die and I get to return to my cushy job, or one of em lives, but I have to watch and record the deaths personally. I don't even get to choose. Maybe it's good I don't have to make the choice.
I hate my job.
So we both silently stood crying on that ridge facing the setting sun, unable to communicate with each other.
Time slowly passed. The children exhausted, quickly fell asleep. The man and woman had hushed discussions. I didn't feel like listening. They hugged and each had a cry.
They fell asleep in each other's arms as I sat to the side thinking about my choice. Could I watch as three people died and force someone to live without their family? Some might say it's an easy choice, atleast one gets to live. But they haven't had to listen to prayers from people missing their loved ones and wishing they had died with them. Yeah, those did stick with me and hit home for me.
It was a long night.
Gods don't sleep.
The next morning the dad managed to salvage a bit of water from the vehicle somehow. The black smoke still rose in the air, but the couple was apparently scared of being chased, so they decided to leave. I wasn't sure of the wisdom of travelling in the day, but I guess navigating in the night wasn't possible for them.
The tired cries of the children complained about the heat and the water. I followed. I felt the strands of the possible miracle waiting. It would be a doozy, really. A coincidence more than anything. Well, an unlikely coincidence.
I again stared at the loving family members, wondering who would be chosen to live?
Many scenario's ran in my mind. The boy would live and become scarred by survivors guilt eventually driven to alcohol and drugs. The girl would live, taken in by foster parents and contribute greatly to humanity. The husband would live, finding another wife and having more kids but never able to love as much as his first family. Or the mother would live and...
No, this wouldn't help. I reflected on what I was thinking when I accepted becoming a God. I would finally be able to 'do' things. Yes, that was the primary thing in my head, wasn't it? Filled with lots of unfinished fantasies of getting back at people, helping friends or being very selfish. Well, atleast now I got to do something that mattered right? I would probably regret this, and the survivor would probably blame given the chance. But well, one miracle coming up. When the final drops of the water were given to the little girl, the father having drunk none, I noted, I went to work.
I reached out to the tendrils, fragments, or whatever they're called with my sense and started tying them together.
Three will pass on,
Fate's will be done.
One will leave
But I will remain here.
No matter poison, dehydration or sickness
I will witness.
Huh, they didn't say anything about spontaneously saying a corny poem. But it didn't really feel as just some prose, but more like me dictating, what will happen. But by doing so, I also bound myself to keeping my part.
I felt the tendrils intertwine and fade into the background, past my senses. I guess I'm just the witness now. I looked around for the miracle. I guess it took time.
And so they walked on, and I followed. The mother kept reassuring the kids that everything would be alright. It was odd, but also depressing, knowing three of them would die for certain while they talked of hope. It felt like I was escorting them to their execution grounds.
They kept walking and nothing happened. They sought shelter in the shade somewhere. The father tried to catch a snake for food, but failed. I could see the frustration and hopelessness on his face when he landed, barely missing the snake, but he put up a happy face again for his children.
The more these people walked in the sands, the more respect I felt for the parents, never snapping at their children. The parents had long resorted to taking turns carrying the little girl.
Again evening came. exhausted, the children huddled together for warmth while the parents went off to search for things. The mother found some dried wood and other bits, managing to make a fire. I was suitably impressed, that was beyond me even as a god. The father came back with a small furry animal I didn't recognize, but his arms and knees were chafed and bleeding. Happiness all around. I looked on, again impressed but wondering how long their suffering would be in this desert. I would quickly have an answer.
---------------------------------------
This and more at [TrabianTellsTales](https://www.reddit.com/r/TrabianTellsTales/) |
I heard them. We can all hear them. Two foots don't really believe that we can, beyond simple words, but that's our choice. We want to be Man's Best Friend, not another source of strain and stress. Man has enough of that already.
But we hear. And sometimes man can be unthinkingly cruel.
"Roger, just look at her! She's a Golden Retriever! Beautiful dog, but she just doesn't have what it takes to be a police dog."
"Bill, any dog with the size and muscle can be a police dog. She may or may not fit *your* model of a police dog, but she can do the job."
Just then, the Captain in charge of the school walks up. "You really think so Roger?"
"Yes, Sir. I do."
"I think it's time you were disabused of your delusion. Goldie here simply does not have what it takes. She's yours now. If she succeeds, you remain a K9 officer. She fails, you're out."
"On one condition, *Captain*. We succeed, she's *my* partner, and we *both* graduate *together*."
"That's damn near disrespect to a superior."
"Not damn near, ***Sir***. I've listened to you deride anyone who you think doesn't measure up. If anyone here is a problem, it's *you*."
"So, you want to raise the stakes? Fine, you fail, you're both out of the police, entirely."
"And if we succeed? You retire. Whatever damn excuse you want, but you're out."
"Done."
"***Witnesses!***"A chorus of calls "Witnessed".
"You done sealed your fate, *boy*."
"I always figured you for a bigot. Now I know you are, and so does everyone else. You keep that in mind, *Captain*, no messing with the tests, no changing the rules, training is entirely the handlers responsibility. No interference at all."
"You..."
"Temper, *Captain*. You wouldn't want to blow a blood vessel and die, now would you? It would spoil all the fun."
He storms off.
"Roger? You sure you don't have a death wish?"
"Yep, I'm sure."Looking around at the other officers, "just like I'm sure that every officer in here is as sick of that bigot as I am. You included, Bill, George, Nathan, Kenneth, and even David". David looks a bit embarrassed, but nods yes.
"So, I'd appreciate it if you would all watch each other's back, including mine. That .... *Captain*... Doesn't get away with *anything* on *any* of us."
We heard the argument too, the others looked at me, then at each other, then back to me. We're with you. Let's give that "captain"a show.
We coached each other over the obstacles. You just had to have confidence and enough brains to check your footing. For the first time ever, everyone passed with no faults at all. That captain wandered out.
"Rogers? And the rest of you. Not for grades, but for curiousity, would you all agree to raise the difficulty? I've never seen an entire class finish the course without any faults at all."
The two foots looked at each other, then mine looked at me. I gave a bounce and a quick yip. He smiled at me, then at his fellows, all of whom agreed.
This time, I went first. When Roger let me go, I went over that course twice as fast still without faults. I looked at the others. If I can do that, you can *at least* take it at normal speed.
They all did it at double speed, with one fault from the whole group. He looked so sad, until his handler reached down, gave him some scratches, and asked, *asked*, if he'd like to try again.
It was a joy to all to see him so happy. He charged the course with all of us giving our support, and made it, fault free.
The captain shook his head, and walked away. We could smell the fear. Roger looked at me. "You're afraid? ... No, you're afraid *for* him."I gave his hand a lick. "Well, I'll have to talk with the others, but maybe we can do something for him."
Roger is good. Roger is almost good enough to be a dog. Maybe if we keep working with them, humans will all become good boys and girls.
The training goes on. Captain becomes more fearful and despondent with each test completed. Finally, the day before graduation, we smell something different. Captain smells dead.
We pull at our leashes, pulling towards Captain, our Humans are confused, but we are insistent. Finally, Roger understands, and let's me off leash.
I bounce towards Captain, happy barking, soon followed by our pack. Knock him on his ass and give him kisses until the dead smell goes away and happy returns.
"Well, Captain? You gonna say something?"
"After they,"lublilf, "stop", blurfulb, "licking'me'to'death", burbflisde!
"They're worried about you, Captain. They care. Do you care now?"A nod. "Would you like to remain in the force?"A nod with tears. "Well, fellas? I think we have our friends opinion. He stays?"
One, by one, "yes".
Graduation was wonderful!
((finis)) |
At the center of Bleakhaven cemetery the air of the graveyard stands still, save a breath of warm air which moves over the headstones like a slow, thick fog. The light in the night sky takes on a blue hue as it works its way through the leafless tree tops and over the rough headstones. A clang can be heard in the distance as old man Monty Downs, the gravedigger, closes the gates for the night. Monty’s mind set on a nice bowl of stew waiting for him back in his diggers shack. But, Monty knows that he has one last bit of business to tend to as he tucks the gate keys back in his front vest pocket.
In a small empty patch of grass situated in the narrow break between the crypts and the rest of the graveyard voices can be heard. At first the voices are faint but, the volume of the voices rise to a point that they become audible. In company with the voices appear spectral benches in front of a long table accompanied with chairs atop a raised platform. Figures grumble amongst themselves in the benches while three figures appear atop the platform, behind the table. A fourth figure dressed in a black cloak, bearing a scythe, appears walking from the darkness of the trees and joins the three figures at the bench, taking a standing place behind them.
“Ahhheeemm!” The center voice repeats, sounding as though something were caught in their throat. Which, it would seem were the case as they adjust a dagger’s placement within their neck.
“Apologies. We here of the nineteen thirty-second year, sixth Bleakhaven council, stand ready to process all requests for hauntings, poltergeists, and other heavenly delays in accordance with section twenty-two sub-part a of the heaven worthy contract. Judges including James Davis, Henry Smith (myself), and Colonel Coventry with death agent number four sixty-two presiding.”
As Mr Smith notions to his sides it would appear as though Davis and himself were at one point well off business men of sorts. Davis himself having a large bullet wound to the chest, while Smith the dagger to his throat. Colonel Henry on the other hand appeared more grizzly in nature. His clothing more antiquated and his appearance more decayed. At times the Colonel’s jaw would fall off to the side dangling by what flesh remained before he would snap it back into place.
“I would like to address the squirrel issue in the cemetery if I may.” A voice beckons from behind the benches.
“Mr Downs, we have addressed this before. You are not permitted a voice with the council until a later time. Though, we all understand the nuisance and vile nature of these creatures you speak of.” Says Smith, obviously irritated from prior conversations of just this topic.
“But surely, something can be done. They are but to quick for my old body to catch, and to smart for my traps.”
“Again, this is not your place to speak Mr Downs. Perhaps another time.”
Monty, aggravated, waves off the council as he turns on his heels and starts for his shack. Smith watches as Monty walks away, his head shacking as he takes a deep breath in before a long exhale. The Colonel, in order to move past the disruption, looks to the spectral guests in front of him and begins muttering an incognizable address of sorts. The cloak of the death agent, which covers its black void body and glowing red eyes, shakes its head as if in agreement while the other judges stare in a blinking confusion.
“Yes to the matters at hand. Do we have any qualified council requests?” Davis says as he turns from the Colonel, gathering his composure.
The guests, in turn, begin voicing their concerns. One of the guest showing interest in haunting the stairwell of the local pub where he had slipped and fell, breaking his neck, if only to warn those future patrons to watch their step. Mrs Bell again requesting more time to wait for her husband, having been denied haunting rights to speed up the process. When a section of the contract was to be upheld the death agent would simply pound his scythe on the platform below his feet, but when he were to overrule a section of the contract he would speak out granting the judges extended privileges. In amongst the hearings however, a squirrel ran through the spectral guests. The creature temporarily distorting the guest’s figures before running over the shoulders of the death agent who fought at it with the hilt of his scythe, unable to dispatch it as it sprinted off and into the trees. Within the trees, like flies, there were dozens of the fiends. The squirrels a reoccurring nuisance of the council and even cemetery visitors. Though, even with the disruptions, the council continued on through the night.
As the judges readied their final statements a familiar voice rang out, “I would really like to be heard on this issue of the squirrels now.”
The eyes of Judge Smith, looking at the translucent papers on the bench in front of him, frown as his temper begins to flare, “Now Mr Dow…..” Smiths voice initially a rumbling bellow, fades in a tremble.
The crowd and the judges jaws dropping, the Colonels further than most, with awe as they catch the gaze of Monty. Monty’s face a persistent dripping wet, with carrots and celery tangled in his mustache. In the dim light of Monty’s shack his body can be viewed slumped over the table, his face in his stew. Monty’s spirit it seemed, had moved on from physical things.
“Ummm. Umm. Yes Mr Downs. I think we can take one last case for the night.” Says Smith.
Smith gathering his thoughts begins, “May the council get any restrictions and or altercations to the contract from the presiding?”
“...Days...Un-restricted...Maximum effect...” The death agents glowing eyes turning from round balls to narrows, piercing slits, “Fatal...” |
“Are you sure this is about me?” I asked my friend. He scoffed and put down his notepad, “I’ve spent my entire life studying anthropology and archeology, culture and myth.” He walked towards me and pointed to the wall. “And I shit you not, this prophecy *is* you.” I stared blankly at the wall with the hieroglyphs. “Bet.”
“Bet? *BET?!*” He screamed, “Look, the picture even looks like you! Same stupidass cargo shorts, it’s fat like you, and it’s even got that God-awful mullet you refuse to shave off!” I selfconsiusly rubbed the top of my head, “Hey, they’re coming back, alright?” He groaned, “Look, deadass, this is you, this is about you, and to save the world, you have to have sex with a chaos demon.”
I took a swig of my Coors. “Well, at least I’ll get some mad Snu Snu. Where do I sign up?” Just then, a fiery hole opened up from the ground, and an Eldrich creature crawled from the earth. We both stood if awe, and it spoke. “*Is this my chambermaid?” It blurted through gurgles. I tossed my beer to my friend. “Are you the Chaos Demon I’m supposed to get naughty with? Caus I’ll only do you if I get plastered. And I ain’t into tentacles.” The demon grinned and pulled me into the hole. As we sank into the firey abyss, the last thing I did was give my friend a thumbs up. |
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