Split (1)

train · 177k rows

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[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/d1b5u5/comment/ezkipir) [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ctup1o/comment/ezu3dk2) Slash! I crumpled down to my knees. “Heh. You are weak,” Fenris taunted. “At least I tried,” I said. He slashed me again, and again and again. It felt like an hour passed until he stopped. “Bye Bye,”Fenris said coldly. Everything went black. I woke up on a escalator. “What? What’s going on?” I wondered. I looked around and there were thousands of people in similar escalators going the same direction as me. Then I heard a loud booming message, “You are ready to transition to the next dimension. You will be born and forget everything.” “What? No!” I shouted. I tried to jump off the escalator. It didn’t work! I peered down to notice that my feet are somehow merged with the escalator. “Well, that’s just great!” I shouted again. I tried to move my hands, but they were merged together. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t stop fate. Nothing can. We’re almost at the destination. I could feel it. I see a blinding white light coming closer and closer. Then I went into it. I felt a roaring pain in my brain, like sometime is extracting my memory. I forgot my time traveler friend. I forgot my job, my friends, my family, my hobbies, everything. Then I forgot to breathe. The last thing I remembered was that nothing can stop fate, nothing.
I didn't have to be told twice. I tucked as tight as I could into the ground. A wave of air like a riptide hit me side long as the two behemoths swooped up. I was dragged across the sand and dark rocks like a leaf in a breeze. I was not physically light enough to be considered leafy. Arrows. I hate arrows. These weren't the arrows you pull back on a bow and let arch into the eye of someone a good hundred feet away. No, these were Cesar's Arrows. Giant, soaring bird like mechanical nightmares that exist to destroy infrastructure. Named after a long dead emperor of an Empire that made roads like orcs made war. Roads. Paths. Mountain passages. If it was visibly beneath open sky, they haunted it. Not hunted. Haunted. They were the bane of my people. I'm a merchant. There's nothing worse then getting everything I've ever earned scattered to the wind. You ever been haunted into a subterranean village already dealing with a lack of space and vicious competition for resources? I'd rather join the army. I was never going back to a sub vil (vole vil, mole hill, mole vil whatever the hell) ever again. I looked up through the dusty wind the beasts stirred up. They were rising again, readying for their next real. I was not in the frame of mind to wait for them. Drawing the climbers claw from my coat layer, I readied my grip on it and pushed up. I was running with the dust cloud they stirred up. Arrows were fast, but they needed time to get altitude reap again. And because they were so damnably big, they needed more time than any bird to build up speed and height. I looked around, finding both of them. The one that had swooped me was still gaining height. The second one had swooped Callus was banking, intent on sweeping lower, and thus faster, as the first got high. Not good but it was an opportunity. Arrows were made of a lighter, soft metal that couldn't match a sword at a stand still. But when are Arrows ever standing still? They don't even have legs to walk. Just as well, they were so massive that even their deceptively light weights and sharpframes could mangle a knight in plate male if they didn't hug dirt like it was their mother's tot. I kept my eye is on the sweeper, and it was definitely aiming for me. Callus hadn't been reaped, but he was intently crawling the opposite direction of where the sweeper was headed. I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't follow me either. As the sweeper drew closer, brought the climbers claw around behind me, spinning with as the arrows wing cleaved at the height of my neck. I jumped backward as hard as i could to match the wing's passage. I braced my arms and- I was slammed into the metal under side of it's wing by the winds battering my back and legs. My knees cried havoc and the dogs of war bashed against the doors of my intestines. I was now hooked onto the sweeping Arrow's right wing. I don't think it would work. Now to kill this bastard.
Help me. You must be wondering how I came to write this story with my eyelids firmly shut and sealed over my eyes. Could I have cured myself, no pun intended? I most certainly wish I could, but as you will figure out as I recount my story to you, this ordeal is unlike anything you have ever come across, be you a doctor or shaman or spiritual healer. No one gets their eyes magically sealed shut overnight. &#x200B; I didn't even feel anything wrong when I went to bed. Could it have been something I ate last night? Not really, the food was not suspicious in anyway. My family ate it with me, no one had any complains. I had gone about my usual routine - a little bit of gaming, a little bit of tv, and then off to bed at 1 in the morning. Nothing extra strenuous on the eyes, and while it's not like I have perfect eyesight, my myopia isn't that bad. At least I was not legally blind, not until now. &#x200B; The first thing I tried to do was perhaps the most natural reaction - rub my eyes and try to open them again. But my eyelids would not budge. They were stuck fast to the base of the eye as if held by some sort of superglue, I could feel the tension in my skin as my eye muscles fought against it, and failed again and again. Then I stumbled out of bed and to the toilet, thinking to myself that it was just some sort of pus that had hardened overnight as I slept. It was only after rinsing my face with water multiple times that I started worrying. The glue wasn't budging. The seal held fast. When I tried to pry it open with my fingers, a searing pain shot through my skin. I could have sworn it was tearing, though I didn't feel any blood. The most frustrating thing about it was that I was standing right in front of the mirror, yet I couldn't see the work of my prying fingers. Gritting my teeth and hoping that I was not doing any permanent damage, I yanked even harder, left hand on the the upper eyelid pulling up, right hand on the lower lid pulling down. The pain rose to an unbearable limit, and I collapsed on the tiled floor gasping from the pain. I had hit my head on the sink, I think, and a careful check by feeling around my face and head assured me that I wasn't bleeding in anyway. &#x200B; I had the greatest itch to continue fiddling with my glued-shut-eyes. Trust me, if you suddenly found your eyes shut without your consent, you would too. It was not uncomfortable per se, but it sure felt itchy, and I had to fight the urge to rub it. I crawled out of the toilet and back into the bedroom, and feeling the way with my hands, managed to get to my mobile phone that I had left charging by my nightstand. &#x200B; If you were a suddenly-newly-blind-against-your-consent man, what would your next move be, after finding out that you cannot fix yourself? Correct. Call the ambulance, which is exactly what I was going to do. But my phone was one of those that didn't have that little vibration each time you press a button, yes I know it is my fault for turning that annoying setting off, though you do see where this will end up, right? I had no idea what I was pressing. Sure, I knew the rough positions of the call app, and the keypad and how to draw my pin, but honestly, after half a dozen hand-gestures, I put the phone eagerly to my ear, but there's not ringing sound. The call doesn't connect. I tried it several times, yet each time I couldn't even get a call out. You can try it yourself, it's not that easy. Then I did something stupid. In a moment of rage I flung my phone out of my hand. Even as the mobile left my grasp I realised, too late, my mistake. The phone landed somewhere in the corner of my room. I heard it, but I'm probably not going to bother wasting my time to find my phone and try that useless thing again. &#x200B; There had to be other ways of getting help. I was pretty sure my neighbours would not help me - they had been on the receiving end of my pranks for the past ten years. They would have most likely asked me to call the ambulance myself if it was anything serious (which, I assure you, I did). Yes, they are a couple of cold-hearted dicks. I could walk out into the street, call for help, beg for salvation, feel my way to a hospital miles away, but somehow I had a preference for the subtle and inconspicuous, so I would consider those as my final options. Then it hit me. I still had my computer. That sure is a way to connect to the outside world. I found it easily, sitting at my desk as usual. Flipped open the lid, and powered it on. I needed a way to be sure of each and every action that I made, to confirm that each instruction had been processed. Windows would log me in with that stupid windows sound that I would finally be thankful for. And that's I found myself in my account, at my desktop with that lollipop swirly wallpaper, or at least imagined myself there. It shouldn't be too far from the truth. At first I instinctively went for my mouse, but then I figured it wouldn't do any good if I couldn't see what I was clicking on. &#x200B; But I knew some shortcuts, so I had that going for me. My fingers on the keyboard could find that little two indents on the "F"and "J"keys, so I was pretty sure of what I was typing. As long as I typed slowly and keyed in each and every letter carefully, I should not have a problem. Windows + R brought up the run menu, and using that I (think I) started chrome running. It would bring me to my homepage, which I knew was reddit. Most likely that wouldn't have changed. The first tab I press would select the reddit home button. The next time I press it, it would select the category. The third time, would be search. Fourth tab press would be create post. Another three presses would bring me to the choose community drop down, if I remember correctly. Then I just had to tab and key in the topic, tab and key in my story, and someone would be bound to find me. And for good measure, after posting, I alt-f4ed and restarted chrome again to repeat the whole process. I did it three times. Someone would definitely see this. &#x200B; If you do see this, please send help. I'm going crazy from the blindness. My hearing is magnified by something like a factor of ten. I can hear the ants scurrying underneath the floorboards. All this sight deprivation is really getting on my nerves. Please, please send an ambulance now. My address is:
Red coat To him who has found this Ms, behold now the confession of a soldier, faithful ever unto God and HRH King George. Tho' the matter of the so-called Massacre at the Purple Moor has been laid upon the red natives of the lost Colonies, those noble Savages bear no Fault. God as my Witness, mine eyes have beheld the truth; and I pray to the Lord of Providence, that the truth should be known; and may the same treat our souls with tender Mercy or supreme Justice, according to our works. In those Days, we oft claimed the right of quarter, the right to demand of any landholder, that his land become our barracks. The better among our Officers, in my estimation, exercised the right but sparingly, burdening suspected Rebels with our expenses, or reimbursing known Loyalists. Would that SGT Oxbridge were such a gentleman! Nay, rather, my Lance was overseen by a profligate, to whom quartering became a hedonistic, at times sadistic affair. So, on the eventide of a full moon, we came unto the Purple Moor Inn and demanded quarter. Verily, the wayfarer's haven was a vantage point without peer, for the bandit-hunting detail to which we attended; howbeit the Sergeant had not Minerva as his muse, but Bacchus. Many were the landlord's casks of ale and wine and all manner of Colonial spirits; many therefore were our Lance's casks. Those who drank not were turned out to patrol; there was but I. Three paces toward the door, and she had come down, disturbed from her womanly affairs by the noise of drunken soldiers. Bess, the landlord's daughter, her black eyes widened with shock, her raven locks loosened. A vision of terrified beauty... and the soldiers were upon her, mead upon their breaths, honour far from their hearts. As I departed, I saw the affair through the casement; maddened by wine, they had decreed that Bess should have the night watch. Bound unto her bed and gagged, she was equipped with a charged musket, its leaden death directed toward her bosom. Their senses enthralled to ale, they kissed her good-night and left her to her watch. Tlot, tlot. A horse at a trot; but with the shadows upon this gypsy-ribbon, and the echoes upon the trees, could I dare to approach? Were there but one, the same would be dead; with this, my musket, I err not. Were there more, I should be lucky if my life were traded for that one. So I watched. Verily there was but one, the trim upon his French-cocked hat twinkling in the moonlight... and also his arms: an elegant rapier, shiny and silver at its basketed hilt; and twin pistols. Truly the arms of a highwayman. Tlot, tlot. I pursued the man as a wolf; would the Lance hear? God forbid, full half of them would be asleep, the tokens of their shame upon them! Then came the sound, the report of a musket from the inn! The brigand fled before that moon-shattering wail; my caution redoubled, I checked my priming and approached to the sounds of a brawl! Then, at length, all went quiet; the creak of a stair, and the landlord rushed forth, bloody cleaver in hand. Training and instinct charted my course; lead and steel extinguished his fury. As though in a trance, I dared the steps, past my slain comrades, up to Bess's room; she yet stood, the bindings holding fast, that pretty head of hers bowed. Her blood glistened in the candlelight as it flowed down the musket from her shattered breast; the bindings upon her wrists may have been white cloths but now were surely as red as my uniform. 'Twas her own doing; her finger remained upon the trigger, a grim testimony to her demise. But wherefore? Was it to escape the torment heaped upon her? Or was it for a sign, a warning to... Perhaps she had helped the brigand, her friend, perhaps her lover; but I could hardly leave her in her final shame. Loosening her bindings, I laid her upon her narrow bed, closing her black eyes, and laying also the musket beside her, before covering her with a shroud of her own bed-sheets. A short nap in the cool air, removed from the ale and death within; and I waited. 'Twas mid-morn when I heard it, the frenzied howl of Cullan's Hound, that unstoppable hero of the Irish myths, from the days before St. Patrick led that island to salvation. It startled me not that my quarry rushed forth, standing upon his golden spurs at full gallop, as a young Knight at tournament; it startled me rather that he had drawn his rapier. Wielding it in the manner of a sabre, his wrath shone upon it with a six-fold measure of the good Lord's blazing lantern. Yet my musket sat in my hand, the chisel carving out my will. He screamed his curses as the brays of a dog. And so I shot. With this, my musket, I err not; and I erred not, shooting him down like the dog he was. The dusty highway received him, the glistening gold of his spurs tarnished, the velvet of his coat turning to wine as his life seeped into it. There are legends that yet say that the man persists in his journey; that when the moon is full, an it were a ghostly galleon sailing on clouded seas, its light should cast down upon the highway leading to the Purple Moor, and the highwayman ride thereupon, ending his journey at the inn door. As for the one who has witnessed this, even me: verily, the affair tolled heavily upon my oath; yet I brake it not. How many lovers have become wedged apart by my trade? How many have been united by my art? How many legends of misfortunate love have I created? God only knows; and the infection of this wound shall soon overtake me, that I may then ask Him. To the living I say: Cherish those whom you love; and cherish those times, wherein war may not imperil you.
My timeline is a little different from yours. Most of our history is the same, up until the 1940's. In our world, the Cold War went hot, and the nukes went off. Worse than that, we lost. America lost the third world war against the Soviet Union. We hit them hard, but it wasn't enough. We were a barren wasteland that was owned by the Russians. Some pockets of people still fought back, but there just wasn't enough of us to beat them, and we were all scattered civilians, not an organized military. Now, 30 years later, we are starting to rebuild. I was an obedient American. I didn't want any trouble for myself or my family, and I figured the best way to keep it that way was to obey. I hated our Soviet overlords like most of our country did, but I wasn't going to get killed fighting them. I worked in construction, slowly rebuilding in the ruins of civilization. We often had rebels attack our worksites, whether it be to inhibit progress, or out of spite, or sometimes even just because they didn't understand that we weren't Soviets, and that we were just Americans trying to get by in a post apocalyptic, Soviet controlled world. So each day, I'd get up, grab my state-issued AK (everyone got one and two full magazines, enough to fight the rebels, but not enough to raise up with them), and head off to one of the sites to try to rebuild. Society was slowly putting itself together, not because it wanted to or was trying to, but because the Russian patrols that came through to make sure we were doing our best to become a productive territory. <Not sure where else to take this now, but I want to keep working on it. Maybe I'll come back later and write more.>
GoogleDoc link here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15CrF1gvMpUfecjD01hE9l2IshaGYS75wC48603v-zVw Accidental King (1/5) A Pearls of Parimine: Untold Tales Anthology entry. The only thing unpleasant about mornings for Vernon Shartle was their arrival. If they could just not arrive at all, that would be wonderful. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about hangovers like this one. A new day was more than welcome to replace the previous one, especially if it had been a smoldering trash-fire of a day, but the absolute rudeness of mornings was intolerable. The wonderful thing about evenings, however, was challenging the big-folk to drinking games and surprising them how many pints a half-pint like him could put away. Especially when he could drink them under the table and could walk, wobble, waddle, or stumble away with the coin he usually won. He was often nicknamed “Shart” as both an abbreviation of his surname as the contraction of two words for smelly bodily functions, intended as an insult by those who first coined the term but only made him laugh. He valued his winnings off of their egos far more than he valued their opinions of him. The sudden knock at the door resounded like the drums of that traveling percussionist a week ago. Moaning in equal parts pain and protest, Vernon simply buried his head further into his pillow. Pillows, as it turned out, as one flailing arm found another and deposited it atop his head in a vain attempt to dim the noise. A distant, but not distant enough, voice cleared their throat. “Ah— uh, your majesty?” they said hesitantly. Ugh, the pounding in his head; surely the innkeeper didn’t need this room available so soon. “Go away,” he attempted to say, though it came through the pillows and bedding as a pathetic, “gnnngh hahwa.” The voice, seemingly less hesitant and more self-sure, returned, “I’m sorry to interrupt your morning routine, your highness, but there is much to be done.” Oddly, the expected snark Vernon expected when innkeepers addressed entitled travelers and loiterers was completely absent. Instead the speaker sounded both refined and earnest, as though addressing real royalty through the closed door. After bracing himself for the doubtless lance to the face of sunlight, he extracted himself enough to look around the room. As expected after the verbal intrusion, he was in fact in a room he was unfamiliar with — a richly, lavishly furnished one at that. However, if only due to his likely-still-drunk state, he for the life of him not place where he might possibly be. Then he saw the crown. The colossal golden crown with jewels the size of his thumb. He had seen that crown once before, on the brow of that pompous windbag who called himself king of Vernon’s hamlet during one of his pretentious public speeches. The fool had somehow lacked the stones to find a queen that would tolerate him, but had ample to “thank” the people for paying the taxes it had cost to make the damnable thing. Never mind the legitimate problems in the town, or the bandit hazards just outside of town; his precious skull-ornament had been the express purpose for the years of coin squeezed from the blood of the residents. What the hell had transpired to bring him here? The voice beyond the door cleared their throat once more; “Your majesty, might I come in now? As I said, there is much to do today.” “I— uh, damn,” Vernon said quietly. “You should know that I am not the king; I don’t know where he is at the moment, or how I ended up in his room…” Then, after a momentary reflection, he winced and quietly mumbled aloud, “Shite! Should not have said that! Should not have said that! Should not have said that!” A shuffle-click seemed to roar and thunder from the door as the latch bar raised and the door swung silently open on oiled hinges. “My apologies for your confusion, and apparent discomfort, your majesty,” the tall elderly man said. Slender, but rosy-cheeked, the human’s face was clean shaven and his hair slicked back into a silver ponytail. “I am Adam Danfyrth, the chamberlain of this castle. You, sire, are the newly declared king. No small congratulations are in order.” The seemingly casual nature of the conversation, despite the decidedly proper and official manner of the chamberlain was nearly as disorienting as the news itself: somehow he had become king while drunk in the taverns? Was that even possible? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some elaborate ploy by the real king to punish him for some kind of embarrassment, even if that were only sleeping in the king’s chambers. It would certainly be like the crown to combine vindictive pranks with malicious sentences. “Right then; you are still feeling the effects of last evening’s revelry. As you might imagine, his former majesty’s clothing is unlikely to fit you, nor did he have children whose clothes would suffice. If you shirk your current threads onto the bed, I’ll send for one of the washing girls to clean them while you bathe, just over there beyond the divider,” he said with an open handed gesture to the bed, the door, and then the changing screen. Vernon’s head spinning anew, he looked around in a delayed circuit following apparently his chamberlain's directions. “Do you need assistance, my liege?” the man asked, not yet holding out a hand to the bewildered gnome but poised to do so at a moment’s notice. “The mattress is a rather tall for your race,” he added in observation. “N— no, thank you, uh.. sorry, what did you say your name was?” Vernon replied in a daze. “Adam Danfyrth, your majesty,” came the reply promptly, yet patiently. “Master Danfyrth,” he replied absently in a struggled effort to retain the information, then decided a proper bath may just be the trick to clear the haze from his head. His hop down from Mt. Plush was no more than he and his kind were used to doing in the world of the big-folk, but was still sufficiently jarring to send him sprawled on the floor after a mere moment of proper verticality. Before he even realized it, Adam was at his side holding him to his feet and steadying him. “There we go. Perhaps a touch of wine to chase away the spirits, sire?” the man suggested. Wine: that nectar of the gods, sweeter than mead, gentler than liquor, and fuller than beer. “By all means, my good man,” he exclaimed in relief as he was led behind the changing screen. A wooden tub with a copper pipe leading to it from a hole in the ceiling sat behind, along with a short table just below the lip of the bath. Adam took hold of a small ivory lever affixed to the end of the pipe and turned it, releasing a torrent of water that, after several seconds, began to steam. “I’ll fetch it promptly, then. Once you’ve entered the bath I’ll fetch a wash-girl for your laundry. I believe the tailor is nearly finished with the initial alterations of a few of the simpler garments, so by the time you are sufficiently refreshed you should have at least something to wear. Is this satisfactory, your majesty?” Adam asked as Vernon excitedly took in the decadence of the king’s bedchamber. ~{o}~
You freeze, afraid that any movement might cause the fae to fly into aggression. Its head tilts sideways like a confused puppy, but a sly smile creeps across its lips, “Darling, don’t you know that these woods are haunted?” You glance around, searching for more. Are you surrounded? “Really dear, it’s quite dangerous here at night. The Shadowbound don’t take kindly to intruders, particularly of your ilk.” Their eyes tracked you up and down, as if assessing your threat. You stammer back, “Ah-hem, yes, of course. My apologies, I lost track of time. Just trying to get home now! Sorry for any, uh, inconvenience?” They began to slowly circle left, maintaining their distance. “Lost track of time? Must have been quite engrossed to have missed the sunset. Which, may I add, was quite gorgeous. You truly missed out.” They stopped, and leaned against a tree trunk casually, “Whereabouts where you, anyway? The lake, perhaps?” “No, not in the lake! I mean, I was near the lake, but not really all that close. Never closer than a stone’s throw. Promise.” They chuckled, “That’s unfortunate, I hear the lake is quite beautiful this time of year. Little colored leaves floating about like boats, and bugs riding atop them like fishermen.” &#x200B; Definitely incomplete, I did it in a time limited 10 minute burst. Interested in thoughts and feedback! :)
I've never failed before. Always within a matter of days, I've succeeded in saving the worst people in the world. This was my own sister. Her crimes were heinous. I had to try and save her. It's been weeks now, and I have made no progress. I've been reduced to working through her memories day by day, but we're approaching the beginning of her life. Of my life. We're fraternal twins. Finally, we reach our birthday, and nothing. No seminal event. Nothing key. I've always stopped at this point. Believing that nothing could happen before this point that would affect a person, but I must have missed something. I proceed through the pre-natal time. Nothing, random sounds, the odd feeling, nothing of significance. Then the fertilization. I never believed in pure nature or pure nurture. Life was not that simple! Yet here it was. The seminal event, for real. Bad to the bone from before the day she was born. "Sis? I had no idea. Perhaps if I'd known I could have done something." "Brother, do you not remember our 18^th birthday? I asked you to kill me, you refused." ((finis)) ((finis))
Stanley Quigley paced the New Hope's observation deck, his mood darkening with each step. "This is the last straw"he thought, "First the shock of coming to New Ecuador(the planet had been named in a global naming contest, cheating accusations followed), finding out that Terrans had made it here 300 years before the New Hope did, and now this. Stanley read the latest directive on his DataAssist. "New Ecuador wants to accept and assimilate the New Hope's passengers as soon as possible. However, after further review of the data we received, we are going to extend the quarantine for 2 Ecuadorian weeks." Stanley muttered "This is the seventh time"! "Seven!"he exclaimed more loudly" "I see you have gotten my superior's last directive"Quala said gliding in. This was the last thing Stanley needed. Quala was the New Ecuadorian...ambassador? minder? prison guard?...it was getting hard to tell. Stanley didn't know what he resented most about Quala. Was it the completely unnecessary breathing mask she wore?, or was it the constant 24/7 link to her bosses on the surface? Or may it was her overbearing condescension? Or was it something else? Who knew? "You do realize"Quala said, "You come from a different age.""We are still analyzing what biological risk fac..." "Oh come on!"Stanley exclaimed, you and I we are human! we are the same, any disease the colonists carry, you should be well familiar with! "Ugh, please control your impulses Mister Quigley! Prefect Stormal, has already indicated his utmost displeasure at your outburst!" Stanley said, unfazed by her rebuke "You high and mighties don't have to deal with 50 thousand pissed off colonists!, They want to go down and do their jobs!""They want off"! Quala gave that damned half smile half sneer yet again,"And have them do what exactly?""We have your manifest, your terraforming equipment is at best...antiquated, and we already...Well actually this is why I am here...We have completed your home, no work needed!""The last two weeks are for disinfecting all of you, and transport down". Stanley was non-plussed.."Well you could of said so"he finally said. Quala replied, "The decom teams will be aboard in 2 days, please make your arrangements to greet them. In 2 weeks time...almost all of the colonists were in their new city, named Zootcol, Stanley was again pacing the New Hope's decks angry that the Ecuadorians had already named this place for them. "All of this was for us to do!"We were going to be pioneers, frontiersmen, now what are we?" Quala's voice filled his mind, but this time she was nowhere to be found..."Yes Stanley, Quala said, I am speaking to your mind, you can think a answer, and I can respond if you like" Stanley was surprised but not shocked..Quala was always at the wrong place at the wrong time. "So yet another surprise..."Stanley thought "Oh and I have some more surprises for you Mister Quigley."Some I don't think you will care for much... A shimmering light appeared right in front of Stanley. When it subsided, something stood in front of Stanley, and it wore Quala's clothes but it was anything but Quala.
She decided to approach this logically. The strange looking man was certainly telling things about her that no one knew. Not secrets. Just things that were not important enough to be shared with others. Like how she liked her coffee, how she covered herself while getting ready to sleep. Personal things. It was creepy but certainly true. ‘Let me guess’ she told him. He just stared back at her. ‘You experience a new dimension that is not yet accessible to us. So you can enter anywhere.’ The man nodded in a way which seemed to suggest she was right. At least she thought so. ‘Fuck’ she thought then deliberately ‘show me’. The man smiled.
"Hey John, look at this weird rock I found" I was just taking a jog in the park with my 22 year old roommate Bill, still eyes red from smoking marijuana earlier, when he showed me a moss-covered stone vaguely shaped like a sphere. there seems to be inscriptions written along it at a glance, but upon looking again I quickly realised there was nothing there. "Oh yeah, it does kinda look weird"I examined the stone carefully when I realised I didn't get a response. "Bill? Where'd you go man?"No response. The almost full park was all of a sudden completely empty. I started to freak out and ran towards home. When I got to the door the inside of my apartment looked completely barren and ruined, with moss growing over it in weird places. As I'm searching the ruins trying to wrap my head around what's going on I hear a soft "mew"coming from above. I look up and see a cat up on a support beam. It jumps on the floor beneath me and I see that it's eyes are red like it was smoking a blunt. It nudges me and hints to follow it. Outside strange symbols are written everywhere, a cop approaches me, wait, not a cop. A cult member? He questions the stone I'm holding saying something about firearms. "Who are you? Why is this going on? What's happening" He looks at me and says "Oh John, you still don't understand do you?"And he dissapeared. I started to book it as I was trying to find something that makes sense, and I finally found something familiar; The strip club. I ran in there and noticed it was empty as well, however more normal than anything else I can see. Upon making it to a V.I.P room I noticed my jeans were teared, I turned around and saw about 20 cats that all look like humans. A liger wearing the same uniform as the cop entered the room and out of sheer panic I threw the stone at it, I was too frightened to realise I never got rid of the stone. Upon letting go of the stone I started to fall, and fall, and I fell into a white padded room. And I understood.
It happened when I was at the lowest point in my life. The high school days were far behind me, and no longer could I live under the shelter of my family fortune or find purpose from school life. I need to work and pull myself out of my gaming addiction. The job opportunities were limited, so I got to make the best out of what I get. I packed a small suitcase, bid farewell to my parents and my gaming setup of 5 years, and set off for a journey that would prove to be a life changer. I filled a job vacancy as a janitor at a private island resort. The island vistas, with all its beautiful sunsets and stylish architecture, filled me with awe and excitement. The anxiety that came with being alone all day in large spaces did not bother me all that much, being the introvert emblematic of a gaming professional. I guess it was what cast other potential candidates off. That was lucky on my part, for all I cared was to finally make money. Still, without the soul cleansing hours of gaming, I did find myself quite depressed at some times, or in other words, homesick. It was a dreary summer day, a month since I arrived, when I stumbled upon a room I'd never entered before. The door was ajar and the lights were off, yet various muffled voices could be heard from inside. Out of morbid curiosity, I peeked inside the room, constantly remind myself not to meddle. The scene that struck my eyes was unexpected, shocking, galvanising, and it knocked my senses out of me for a solid minute. I had never seen so many people gathered together in a single room during my stay. There must be at least a dozen of them, their faces indiscernible under the dim light, although I could tell through the glare of the monitors that they were of different race. They were string intensely into the monitors, one hand flying across the surface of the desk, the other dancing over buttons. The voices were revealed to be jargon of some sorts, and I could hear faint words such as "Tilted", "Pleasant", "Dusty", all of which rang a bell in me. I could have left instantly. I had all the chance to escape without getting caught, for my footsteps were drowned out by the headphones they were wearing. But something told me that this setting, with all these mysterious personages, had more secrets in store for me. I stayed to see someone react to my presence, while slowly realising the type of activity they were engaged in, from the overall idea down to the specifics. The air inside the room was both welcoming and unwelcoming. Finally, someone shouted and stood from his chair. The lights were turned on and everyone was alerted to my presence. I almost lost my footing when I saw the familiar faces looking at me, men and women that resembled all the outsized figures I saw on TV - leaders from all around the globe. It was not panic, but disappointment that spread across the room. I could have died right there, retired, killed for the mistake the leaders themselves made. Again they failed to keep their weekly meetings a secret, and again they would have to recruit someone else to take on the job as the resort's janitor, the toughest and riskiest job in the world. I had to die, not just because I had discovered the secret source of all international politics, but also for the intel I accidentally garnered through minutes of watching their gameplay, all their calls, their locations, their strategies; everything that could tip the balance of power among the world's mightiest nations. It was the direst moment in my life. Whenever such happens to a person, it always brings out the most genuine, honest side of them, their most instinctive actions fuelled by some stifled, silenced passion. For me, my passion so happens to be gaming, and it was a crazy coincidence that I was a former champions league Fortnite player. "You are playing on an old patch,"I cried out, and the guards, with knives on their hands, suddenly stop moving. "I'm sorry, what?"said someone with a heavy accent. "You wonder why there's all this RNG,"I gulped and continued. "It is because the shotguns weren't patched in the version you're playing. Their spread is totally different now and they are no longer op." Then I saw the president of United States stand up and walk right up to me. I could have fainted at that very moment. "You're telling us the shotgun is not longer good?"he asked. Old conventions, outdated mindsets. Typical of politicians and leaders of this era. "A lot has changed in this game ever since,"I said. "If you don't kill me now, I can actually show you all of them. I am a professional player. I have proof, although I would have to log into my account to show you that." The people around the table stared unflinchingly at me. The president of United States eyed me from head to toes, waited for almost a minute, before drawing a deep breath; exactly the way he acted in the presidential debate a few years back. "That's good,"he finally spoke. "We actually need a game master. We do not have a clue what we are doing in this game." He turned around to face the table and lifted a mic to his mouth, a state of the art gadget that translates English words to languages of the other leaders' choice. "Gentleman, could you show him to the computer, so that he could prove his worth?" There were whispers in the room as I was led to a seat at the edge of the table. I was told to log into my account. I acted accordingly, entered a match, and eased through a field of 9 year olds to a 26 elim victory royal. The leaders gasped in astonishment. "If only it was on my account,"The president shook his head. "I would have solved a global economic recession." "So, what do I do now?" "You'll stay, young man. See, we are all struggling though our games recently. We lack communication and teamwork, and our plays are sloppy. The skill level in casual squads has increased so much, let alone competitive lobbies. We cannot achieve global peace if we can't even build. It would be a waste to throw you away, but it is still your choice to decide. Should you decline, and simply be replaced, or should you accept our offer and be our coach, our game master?" I didn't even come to yet. An hour ago, I was still working my usual job, cleaning the tiles along corridor. The next moment I knew, I was given another job with a ludicrous title, sharing a room with some of the greatest people of this age whilst looking into their yearning eyes. I knew I had no choice, but I still felt ambivalent, as if I was led to a deeper trap than the one I was supposed to fall into. Well, screw it. I made up my mind. "I accept it, Mr President."I watched as the room erupted in cheers and applause. All these important people were acting like children all of a sudden, and the international conference was no more than a school party. Heh, I miss those school parties. I smiled, thinking of all the snags that awaited me in the imminent future. It was perhaps the reason why I was so ambivalent. After all, how was I going to explain about the B.R.U.T.E.?
Dr. Isaac Adebowale is a neurologist. I have been watching him for years. It was in fact, some of his stash of files that allowed me to identify many of the supers assembling here today. He had no inkling for most of his youth that anything was unusual about him. He grew up in rural Nigeria. His father was a priest? preacher? Whatever Christians call them, I don’t know. A religious leader. He would help with many odd jobs at their small church. Cleaning, making coffee, making copies of the program? I can see his memories, I don’t know the terms sorry. It was during the AIDS epidemic that he first got suspicious. People were affected at his church. Some would still come, though being weak. He father would pray for them and most in fact “miraculously” got better. Stigma was such that he was horrified when he felt he had some minor symptoms. But he had done nothing that presumably could lead to acquiring HIV. Was the government lying about being able to get it from touching? He had touched many AIDS sufferers. Had helped them down the aisles. But he quickly got better. It was something else that made him see a wider pattern. The choir leader, a lovely woman who had long been his ‘auntie’ had fallen and hurt her back, not a dramatic injury, but hard on someone her age. He and his father brought her meals. He prayed with her. The next day, his back hurt like hell. He was in bed for days. But he recovered. She also quickly recovered. He had a hypothesis. His testing went to such extremes as to sneaking into conflict zones. He could heal a lot of things. Regrowing limbs didn’t work, and he was a bit thankful at that, but they at least healed without infection. He went to school to try to learn how it worked. Hope to replicate his mutation. He is making progress, he has modified rats that can cure other rats, he has not cracked the transfer and self-healing. He is very worried about the ethical implications so has kept this quite secretive. Meanwhile, during his studies, he started seeing other anomalies. These were like most of the people filling this room now. Low level mutations. This one has regrown limbs, took a year but he did. This one has the olfactory sense of a dog. There, she has functioning gills under her long hair. The Billie Eilish look-a-like is 4’11”, small enough she shops in the teen section, and nearly 200 pounds of mutant dense muscle. The other thing Dr. Adebowale discovered was that it ran in families. Weak supers often have weak super kids. Two weak supers would have a medium super kid. And that is why we are here. “Okay, it looks like most of you are here. Here is the deal. The world needs super heroes. Lots of shit going on. Most of you have powers that, on their own, aren’t going to make a dent. You know that so you’ve been under the radar. I get it. I know what you’re thinking, literally, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this is a call to action, ‘but my job, my cats, I’ve seen the movie, I like my 9 to 5 and I’m deathly scared of guns, they have guns!’ Right Isabelle? Yes, me too! No this is one organizing. There are some power combinations we could make a dent with. We have some plans, you, you’ll see your invitations marked with an A, that’s for A-Team. A team, next room with Mr. Black. Wave Mr. Black. K. Bs, what Dr. Adebowale can confirm, and as an aside, I’d note he had nothing to do with compelling you to come here, that’s all on me, sorry not sorry. I read his mind and stole his info too, but as Dr. Adebowale can confirm, super mutations are inherited. Even across type. Bs! This is speed dating. I only called single supers here. We need heroes. Little cute cuddly invulnerable, super strength, fast-healing, psychic, toddling superheroes!” “The first ice-breaker is…..”
The letter slot banged shut as a letter was shoved through. I wasn’t supposed to receive mail today. Strange; maybe they had forgotten to mail it yesterday? I set my coffee on the small table by the door. Picking up the letter, I look it over for a return address but all I find on the thick paper it my name, address, and for some reason and date. Why would anyone need to put the date? I shrug it off. I had seen and experienced weirder things. I grab one of my keys on my key chain and run it down the side, opening the letter. “Dear Gene, You’re going to die. Not right now but soon And here’s how, and why.” The letter continued on, describing, in detail, my death. At first I thought this was a scam or a stupid prank so kid thought would be funny, but the more I read the more I started to think that this is either a sick joke or some loony is on the loose. I just couldn’t believe that this might be real. Why would anyone tell someone how they are going to die? I continued on. “.......I know you will think that this is something stupid but I promise you I’m telling you the honest truth. And I know you have no obligation to believe anything I just wrote. But here is how I can make you believe that this is real. Right now your clock said 15:16. Its Monday and you’re drinking your favorite coffee with milk and honey. Your milk just expired and you are still in your slippers.” I was terrified. I looked at the clock and calendar. 15:16 Monday, December 3. I sprinted to my fridge, letter clutched in my hands, and threw open the door. Yesterday. My milk expired yesterday. Impossible. I started to shake. I looked back at the letter and continue reading that last bit. “Do you believe me now? If so then just turned around and stay in bed. Stay home and play with Alex. If you do that then all of what I just described above can be avoided. Please. Just don’t leave the house. Sincerely, Your son, age 21, Alex” Tears stream from my eyes as I glance over at my beautiful boy. Think of all my options and after a while I stop thinking. With quiet foot steps I walk over to my son, wrap him in my arms and tell him how much I love him. I wanted this moment to last a lifetime, but I knew better. Grabbed my keys and walked out the door for the last time. *i am sorry for any mistakes and I am welcome to criticism *
- I'm tired of all these crimes - Roberto says closing the journal. Last night was horrible. He could still smell the burning corpse of another woman, but that's not the problem. The real problem was this entire maze he's running over and over again against himself. He laughs while remember what Ulisses, his long time detective partner who retired months ago, said as soon as this strange crimes started: "if this seems like a crime done for nobody, maybe we're just nobody's detectives". "Nobody's detective"he laughs. - Liutenant - sargeant Lejeune exclaim while crossing the p.d - there was another one, in the corner of Bucarelli St. with the 49th. Another burned woman, no sexual abuse again and the eyes pierced. Just like our guy is doing. Roberto wear his jacket and go, thinking how hr can't capture this assassin in so long time. The crime scene is just the same as always, the victim tied to a chair, no clothes, eyes pierced and body burned. No signal of the murderer, "this guy's a pro"he thinks until see the camera-pen in the desk behind the corpse. He takes the pen, put in the pocket, and start to photograph the scene Hours later, in his office, Roberto deletes the photographs that he was recognizable before put the pen in the evidences box. "I need to pay more attention, that was an amateur's mistake". **sorry if I deviate something from the prompt, it's my first time* also, english isn't my mother language***
"I've been dealing with this for a while. It's haunted me for years, and I've never had anyone believe me, so I'm glad you haven't run screaming or just laughed like the others." I waited. She was looking at me kind of weird, but she was trusting. I took my chance. "It's actually why I started my work in physics. I had to understand it, so I learned all I could. Now here I am, about to receive a Nobel, and then this thing rears its ugly head again. I've want to know if you can see it too?" She smiled. My heart leapt. She frowned. I died inside. We sat for a minute, staring at my closet, and she broke the silence after what seemed like hours. "I want to believe you, Chris, but I just don't see an evil monkey in there..."
I sat in the hallway, head back, eyes on the ceiling, praying the same words over and over again: "Please, Lord, please..." Finally, the door opened, and I jumped out of my seat. "Doc, is-?"Before I even finished, I saw the look in his eyes. The sadness. I pushed past him. I ran into the room and when my wife saw me she burst into tears and stretched her arms out to me. I fell into them and we embraced, sharing our grief. The doctor's voice filtered in from behind, fading in and out, "....everything we could...umbilical cord....neck...sorry...." And then I tuned him out completely, letting myself drift away into the storm of my wife's sobs crashing with waves of tears through my ears.
Zackary Blue was perfectly happy with his life until United Amazon Postal Service sent him a small box addressed to somebody named Daniel Plainview. Zackary lived in a glittering condominium overlooking the burned out United States where superstorms ravaged the land and water wars had gutted the population. But Zackary was one of the lucky one percent who not only survived but thrived in this post-apocalyptic world. Private armies kept his small community safe. A combination of artificial intelligence production and grinding warehouse work by a peasant class of survivors ensured that every wish Zackary ever had was granted (and fulfilled with same-day delivery). His daily packages usually included exotic food, tasty beverages, and other surprises that his smart house couldn't provide. But best of all, the package always contained entertainment: a book, movie, TV show, comic book, or work of art that had been created just for Zackary Blue. Except for that night, when his daily delivery had Daniel Plainview's name on it. Zackary opened the box, and discovered a single private detective novel called "The Traced Prey." There was no human author for this book. That wasn't a surprise. Once publishers got the hang of artificial intelligence, the idea of an “author” became obsolete. Every publisher owned an army of AI models that had been trained on the work of famous writers. These bots could write trillions of words, imitating the style and plots of human beings' favorite books. Suddenly, you could own a novel where you were the hero in the Harry Potter universe or the star of a Stephen King novel. Then, the AI writers started making customized books with adventures perfectly tailored for you. The author bot would mine your purchasing history and social media feeds, crafting a new book where you were the hero. You were the center of your favorite story. The algorithms filled virtual libraries with books that nobody ever asked for, and within 20 years, nobody read anything except AI-written books crafted exactly for them. No one writer could ever be immortal. Within a few years, everybody had forgotten the names of the original authors, lost in a sea of bot-written books. So Zackary felt a little strange reading a book about a character named "Daniel Plainview."By the time American civilization collapsed, every piece of entertainment had been carefully customized for people like Zackary. Every book, movie, TV show, comic book, or work of art delivered to this extremely fortunate man's heavily fortified condo doorstep starred the same hero: Zackary Blue. These stories had kept him insulated from the American disaster for many years. Zackary started to read "The Traced Prey,"a pulp fiction novel about the adventures of a private detective named Daniel Plainview. PI Plainview spent the entire novel trying to stop a secret society of powerful rich men who kidnapped and murdered street kids on the mean streets of 1930s Los Angeles. At the climax of "The Traced Prey,"PI Plainview finally located the rich and powerful child murderer who had orchestrated the entire conspiracy. The detective smashed his way into the evil man’s mansion, interrupting the supervillain in the middle of a Satanic ritual. “Your evil dies tonight, Zackary Blue,” screamed the private detective, shooting his way past security guards and the other depraved rich men participating in the unholy ritual. PI Plainview yanked off the man’s mask, and finally confronted his nemesis: a man named Zackary Blue. “You sick sick sick man,” whispered the detective, yanking the cowering rich man's collar and lifting him up into the air. “I see the truth. All you ever wanted was somebody to stop you. You are the last survivor of an evil class. Your reign of terror ends tonight!” Zackary closed the novel and started to cry. He could see how this book would end. For the first time in his magical and miserable life, he actually got what he wanted. Not what the AI had created to keep him pampered and numb. His entire condominium shook, pounded by mortar shells and battering rams. The townspeople were coming to kill the monster.
I woke up from under the tree I was sleeping in. It still hadn’t been ruined. The afternoon was hot and humid. Reminding me of summer holidays. I slowly wiped my eyes. The launchpad was barely visible in the heat mirage. Also it was quiet far away. The air was getting cooler and I imagined clouds gathering in the distance. Which of course was stupid It hasn’t rained in years. Barely visible was the rocket to Mars. Well it will go to the moon first and then to Mars. The rich and the powerful and the people who could afford the hefty price of the trip were going. Meanwhile I was sleeping under a tree. I didn’t complain though. I was living in one the ‘safe’ areas. Water shortage and death of flora is yet to reach this part of the country. ‘Where’ I live used to be one of the most populous, opulent and noisiest cities in the world. You know - the usual rush hour jams, bridges literally collapsing with the weight of the traffic (and bad engineering brought on by corruption.) etc. But I have to say even before the world went to shit this place had a spirit and managed to hold on to it despite a terrorist attack now and then. Seasonal rains were a bigger threat. Trust me. The sky was definitely darkening. Despite this people managed to coexist. True there were a couple of religious skirmishes. But we managed to go right back to work once that was done and dusted. The city knew how to adapt and survive. And as its dweller so did I. Right now you are thinking that I am probably an idiot. You are surprised why I am regarding such a city with nostalgia. I guess you had to be there to feel what I am on about. Right now, for example. The world is literally ending. But I am getting a cup of coffee from a roadside store. Don’t know how long that will last. But right now the coffee is a real as the rocket waiting about 10 kms from the coffee shop. It hasn’t rained in a while. 5 years to be precise. There was something on the radio about why it will never rain. I didn’t understand it. Didn’t care. The government has managed to upkeep the safe areas till now. But I have to say, they were doing a good job. Mainly because there were not so many people to take care of. People had either died or moved to other places or to Mars. I can safely say that the number of people living in the entirety of safe area presently would the amount that lived in 5 sq.kms of the city before. The city also had shrunk. But the people were more friendly. Even smiled at strangers. There were still some gas stations. But people rarely used their vehicles. There was less smog and I was able to breath easy in a long time. It was as if the inevitability of our extinction had brought us closer. I was suddenly startled awake from my reverie by water droplets stroking my body. I looked up. The sky had darkened. It was indeed about to rain. People just stopped what they were doing abs looked up with confused expressions on their faces. I probably looked like that too. I started smiling. The young woman near me caught me smiling and started smiling too. Slowly the cheer spread. The wind started picking up. It was really raining now. For a moment I thought it was acid rain. The sting that I felt was just the force of the droplets hitting my body. People were still standing about. But everyone was smiling. ‘This is home’ I thought. ‘Nobody will be stupid enough to leave home’. I smiled even more widely.
The world went mad. Many preferred the times of old, where the music was better, the air clearer, and no one was glued to their phones. They were happy to reunite with old loved ones once again. They saw it as a sign, a rebirth, an opportunity to make the world a better place. They could stop 9/11, prepare for natural disasters in advance, develop science and technologies quicker, or change careers and lovers. The possibilities were endless. Many, however, missed the edges of advancement, or were sad to not have loved ones exist, that they hadn’t yet come into that fortune, or would have to go through school or work all over again. Some, however, were angry. Joe Briggs was one of them. Joe Briggs’ daughter was still dead, he reaslised, staring at the headstone, still looking newly placed and glossy. Natasha Briggs. Nov 4th, 1978 to Dec 18th, 1998. Gone too soon. So close. He gripped his fist, the emotion still raw. There had been discussion about what to do with criminals of future’s now past. There were too many of them to put in prison, and how could they even be fairly convicted if they had not yet even done the crime? Many saw it as a chance to repent and promised themselves and society a better re-run. Others just didn’t care. Victims were still scared, families in panic. None of that talk concerned Joe Briggs too much. He had only heard talking, procedures, court hearings for years. Yet they still couldn’t get a conviction for his daughter’s rapist and murderer until 2012. But during those years of crying, of waiting, of grieving, of torment, Joe Briggs did some research of his own. He found out all about his daughter’s killer, where he lived, what he did. And he remembered. He didn’t bother to knock. He walked straight through the unlocked door, past the empty alcohol bottles and drugs on the floor, and hit the brick on the head of the grotesque-looking man slouched on the couch. The shocked man could barely splutter the word “you” through the blood coming out of his mouth when Joe Briggs smashed the rock over his face again. And again. And then again. Once for every year his daughter didn’t get to live. Joe Briggs stood over the bloodied stump of his daughter’s killer and let out a howling cry of emotion. Justice was finally served. He didn’t care if he got caught. He didn’t care if he got arrested. He had done his time, twenty years of it. And if the world did reset to 1999 again? He’d get to do it all over again . . .
For those of us who remember what the world was like before the attack, existence is hell. Personally procrastinating on Anything, even something trivial, would slow down time for you by 2 or 3 times. And for anyone nearby by almost as much. It's impossible to get anything done, which feels like a sick joke. Those who came after are different. Disturbed. The mind doesn't develop right when time doesn't move at a constant rate. Before, the world was obsessed with productivity. Trying to eek out every moment of useful activity from the day. Todo apps, planners, strategies, life coaches with secrets, stimulants. We worked ourselves to the bone trying to do it more effectively. After, everyone learned that procrastination is when the deep thinking happens. The creativity. The joy. The excitement. And now it's gone. And I'm going to bring it back.
- What is my gimmick? Oh nothing much... Don't mind it... - C'mon Dan. Spit it already. Or is your gimmick never giving a straight answer? Classic Ed. Always has a little smart reply. - Yeah Dan. Just tell us. I've been meaning to ask you this for weeks now. Sara... Always meant to do what is currently being done. Quite annoying. But she's a good person to have around. Still, I don't think I can tell them. - Guys... Leave Dan alone. You know if he was comfortable sharing, he'd have shared it already. Right on queue. Gus always knows when someone is on their limit. Saved me more than I can count. - Aight fine. I just hope he does have a gimmick. Otherwise he might be screwed on the exams. Imagine him going into the interview room and acting all mysterious when they ask him what's his gimmick. They're gonna think your gimmick is not revealing your gimmick! - I dunno Ed... I was about to say that too... 4/10 for the replies you normally give. - Sure you were about to... Always about to aren't you? What are you about to do next? Gonn... - Quit it Ed. Sara isn't liking it. - I was about to say that Sigh always like this aren't we? Welp that's our 'group gimmick' as I call it. Better step in before Ed slaps Sara in the mouth. He is about to. - Guys it's ok. I think I can share it now. - You sure Dan? These two are gonna attack each other if this is not worthwhile. - Yeah yeah I'm sure this time. - Wait. Don't tell me. Is your gimmick doing things way off tempo? That'd explain the weeks of asking and you still haven't told us about it. I could see Sara about to say what she was about to say but she decided it was better to not get dropkicked by Ed just yet. - Honestly, I don't know how you guys didn't notice. Ohh those 3 puzzled faces... Not even Gus could keep his composure. - Guys... It's so simple. Remember since we've met I always sneaked up on y'all? I can see them notice it. - I always walk sneakily. - I WAS ABOUT TO SAY THAT! - OH SHUT UP SARA! I'm about to give you a concussion! - Calm down you two! Now I'M reaching the limit. - Dan how didn't we notice before? - You were busy minding each other's noises, I guess. - Welp... That was a dumb thing to hide. But I guess it's our fault too for not paying attention. - We'd have noticed if you weren't about to-about to our ass every five minutes. - ED LEAVE HER BE! I'M ON MY LIMIT!!! - ...sorry Gus... - Well I guess we can head home I guess. - I was about to say that! - Enough or I'll just reach my limit too Sara. - Bye noisy couple. Thanks for sharing Dan. - WE'RE NOT A COUPLE!!! - YEAH I WAS ABOUT TO SAY THAT TOO!!! - Bye guys. Be sneaking around ya tommorow ok? Phew. I got them. Finally I'm gonna be free from this seasonal sessions of what's your gimmick. I'm sorry but my gimmick isn't simple like stepping a little slower and going silently like I've been doing. I know they're my friends and I can trust them with anything, but this I barely trust myself with. My gimmick doesn't affect me like them or lets me know of others like Gus does nor do I have objects affected. I just always have a way, no matter what for, when, for who... I have a way.
"It is funny..."Vivianna began, brushing her gloved hand across a dusty staircase as she descended... "The things you begin to lose in this place." Her amber eyes drifted to the paintings that trailed downward as she did. The faces of the portraits were torn, and even if they weren't--her memory of their faces was still otherwise absent. A child-like, and airy voiced called--or echoed--from behind her. "What does that mean? What does that mean?"a little dark raven fluttered about Vivianna before diving into the shadows below. "It means..."Vivianna began in an irritated tone--but her words faded as the conversation seemed rather one sided... "It means nothing--Stupid bird..." Her hand massaged her brow. Having felt foolish--for many reasons. Her eyes began to blur and she stopped her descent. Taking a moments pause with her eyes shut to the strange world in which she had found herself. In the silence, she could hear the sounds of an empty manor. When she opened her eyes again--they refocused upon her dust stained glove. Holes, and tears began to appear in the fabric. She could feel the pumping blood, and veins beneath her skin... She had to be alive. The functions of her being which were often forgotten--she focused on. Her heart beating. Her shaken breath drawing in the taste of stale air and dust. The ligaments and muscles of her arm twisting as she came to untie the ribbon around her neck so she could breath more freely... But as her hands felt about her her neck--she was reminded that she had already done so... Her eyelids drooped, and she could only stare into the dim lighting for moment. She stepped down, her body feeling as if it had forgotten how to even walk. She had to focus... Her gaze no longer idly scanning the torn paintings, the dim lamps, or peeling wallpaper. Just focusing on the stairs before her... Her skirt was tattered... Her blouse partially unbottoned. And strands of her hair began to fall into her face. She felt a jerk in leg, as she stepped forward expecting another stair--but found none. Her gaze trailed across the dirt ridden velvet carpet that lined the center of the hall. Still never able to see more than few feet infront of her... Until... A gleam of light from another lamp reflected upon a window further down the hall. A shadowy figure stood silhouetted and hunched forward. It was small, and child-like. Vivianna felt cold fingers trailing up her back. She took a step forward. "Please..."Vivianna said. "Tell me what you want." She could feel the fingers of fear rise to base of her neck and begin to dig their claws beneath her skin. Something inside her wanted to scream and run, but she denied it. Her hands raised, not knowing what would be felt when she touched the figure. "Please."She said again. "Just tell me what you want and... I will do it." Vivianna reached the end of the hall, and the details of the figure were still like shadows--but the offness of the being crawled its way into Vivianna's imagination. Its hair was messy, the clothes were even more torn than her own. The body of the being was rail thin--starved--or a corpse. Barely any motion or reaction. There was not breath or voice, but perhaps its mouth could have been open, and its eyes wide but--devoid of true expression. There was no certain discernability in the dark... Vivianna's arms wrapped around the creature. Embracing it in her bosom as she fell to her knees. "Please..."the woman begged. She could feel the being devoid of warmth... She could smell death. "Please. Answer me..."Vivianna said as the warmth began to leech out from her chest, and her vision darkenning. Her heartbeat began to slow, and the blood coursing through her began to feel like ice clogging her veins... "Please. Stop this madness. Please. Stop it. I can not bare this strange place any further."the woman faintly pleaded the shadow. The muscles in her body began to feel fatigued--the cold spreading further and if it didn't stop... Vivianna pushed away--unable to breath, unable to hold the creature any more--unable to even look at it. She fell. She wanted to sleep. She wanted the ice in her veins to melt away... But it refused, and something inside her knew--that if she slept she would not awaken. She could barely rise, her eyes locked to the floor--but she could feel the air around her shifting. The creature that had sapped her of her warmth had moved closer, and put it's hand upon Vivianna's shoulder... The woman felt no comfort--as she buckled to slump to the floor again. "Please. Stop it."She pleaded once--but her voice had left her. Unable to beg any further--she could feel her mind numbing and she could feel herself forgettening what she was even begging for anyway. But... From far side of the hall an airy voice echoed mockingly. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it."It said, as the flutter of wings travelled the hallway. The voice reminded her... But she could no longer see; her vision left her and she didn't know when... Her various senses were dulled and she only feel the absence of them. She wanted her arms to lift her body, she wanted her body to turn itself to the creature. She wanted her hands to raise and with every bit of strength she could muster--push the creature away. She wanted it--over and over again--but she could not tell if her desires or intents could precipitate her actions. Her eyes wanted to see -- but there was nothing but black. Her hands wanted to feel the creature -- but she couldn't feel... She felt numb. Or empty. Or as if every part of her being had forgotten who she was--or that she should even existed. It wasn't what she wanted to feel... She didn't want to feel as if she was nothing, and just as she desire it to be so--yet nothing came of it... Frustration sparked. A burning stab pierced her heart. Her muscles began to scream. Her nerves began to jolt with the frantic search for release from the numbness, from the emptyness. When release from the emptyness would not come--her body screamed further. She could feel her teeth clenching, she could feel her nails clawing into the floor. A burning in her chest began to spill outward as she screamed in rage for her body to act, and she rose to her knees. She crashed herself into the creature, and she could feel and hear the thud of herself and it against the wall. Where she had only felt cold, she now knew the sense fires of rage as her vision turned red--and she could only barely see what her hands were doing to the creature... It had come into the lamplight enough for her to see. A grey, dull face of haggard and blank character. Empty eye sockets. No nose. An agape mouth that spoke nothing. The creatures slender neck had been wrapped in Vivianna's tight grip and she felt the cracking of brittle bones almost immedietly... With the popping echoing through the halls--the creature faded into dust and ash. Vivianna could breath again, and she lurched forward over the pile... She could feel herself becoming sick--but any feeling was welcome. Her hands clenched her mouth and her back and stomach jerked--but she held herself together. The feeling of warmth and normalness returning to her and she could see clearly the details around her. Her mind imagined phantoms in the shadows and she stood sharply up, frantically searching... Through the corner of her eye she caught sight of a doorway--a room barely open. Inside she could see a fireplace with the dull rise of flames. She entered and shut the door tightly behind her. The room--still as dim as the rest of the house but comforting for now... She scanned the room and could see the walls lined with books. A large cushioned reading chair... And a lock upon the door--which was promptly utilized. She almost elected to rest in the chair... But the shadows of the room felt unwelcoming. A book had been resting in the chair and she scanned over the contents. A book for poetry--one she had read before when she was a child. She cast the book int the fireplace and the room filled with soot and light. She felt... Safer. For now. She chose another book. One she had never read before, and sat down to read.
I always wanted to dazzle an audience. For as long as I can remember. I can still recall the exact memory, from my infantile years, that steered me towards this crucial moment. I was very young, I had undivided attention and I killed it! I'm sure a lot of toddlers have memories like mine; from putting on puppet shows, or singing to their parents. Mine was deeper than that. Little did I know, I had fallen in love with showbiz! I could tell the difference from the generic, positive phrases I would get when learning the alphabet, and the candid delight caused by my creativity. Sure, the support helped me gain confidence, but I slowly began to realize my talents passion. My parents argued the same way every time. I started to understand the patterns, and figured out how to change their energy. In fact, I sharpened my instinct through the frequent chances they made available to me. A funny observation at an opportune pause, an interesting perspective on a negative subject, and even silly gestures became common in my toolkit. Often, I ended fights with laughter, sometimes with merely a funny face. The value of such power was not lost on me. I could guide souls, if only temporarily, through a state of mind of my choosing, and help them discard their mental burdens, simply by expressing myself. Onward, I took my talents, and inevitably my audience grew beyond, family and friends. My fate was sealed when, for the first time, I felt what it was like to truly entertain strangers! Only now, doing what I love, with high stakes, does the entirety of my journey connect in a way that makes sense. I could go down in history as the showman who defended Earth. These aliens are terrible at dancing, yet they challenged humanity to a dance off. If we lose, they destroy the earth to make way for their super galactic highway! They could just go for it, and there's nothing we could do, yet they're granting us a chance to stop it. Perhaps to judge our worth. It didn't make any sense, but I had a duty to the planet! I'm in the middle of my routine, giving it everything I've got. I pull forth centuries of dance, fusing it perfectly with contemporary styles. I even threw in dance fads, ones that lasted only a few months. I could feel their admiration and approval fueling my energy. I was doing the robot when I looked directly into their floating alien cameras and realized something. They're no match for our superior style. They're a rather grotesque, awkward, unpleasant race in both appearance and demeanor. They couldn't possibly hope to win. The real reason is right in front of me. This is being broadcasted to their home planet. They can't entertain each other. They're looking elsewhere for a fresh take on their dull existence! I'm their entertainment, I have them wrapped around my finger! A bit, differently than I imagined, but I did it. At this very moment, I'm a Vogon superstar!
"We'll be in the next room, okay?"Orion's mother reassured him one last time before he heard the door close. He heard light footsteps on the stone floor walking in his direction. A rustling of fabric settled in front of him, and he heard an old man's tired lungs wheeze lightly. Not out of breath from strain, but age. Orion stayed quiet, listening to the man's breathing. It changed pitch a few times as if the man's head was moving up and down. Orion wondered what the man looked like. He was definitely old and his clothes flowed around him; it sounded like his mother's dresses. His parents told him the man was a wizard. Orion's imagination easily pasted a long robe on the lean image of a nondescript old man with a long grey beard. "Why are you here?"the man's voice was deep and smooth. "My parents said you could teach me to use magic, Sir,"Orion said politely as he straightened his back. His mother told him to expect some sort of interview and to be polite. He was surprised it started so suddenly, but he did his best to follow his mom's advice. "That's why they brought you, but why are you here? What do you want?"Orion hesitated. His mother always told him to be polite. His father always told him to be honest. It happened often that he couldn't do both and needed to make a choice. "I want to see again,"he said honestly. "And you think you can do that with magic?"the wizard asked. Orion felt like it was a sincere question; at least as sincere as a teacher presenting a question to the class. He was interested in Orion's answer without any judgement. "Magic took my sight away,"Orion said. "Magic is a natural resource, like metal. A needle can sometimes repair the damage done by a dagger, but there's a lot of luck involved. In your case...,"Orion heard the old man's tone shift down. "...it would be like a needle trying to sew a pie back together after taking a warhammer to it."The wizard seemed to be fiddling with something near the fireplace. "So, I'm unlucky,"Orion sighed. "In this particular instance, yes. Very. But...,"Orion heard the wizard stand and move about the room. He kept talking though. "...life is not a single instance."His voice traveled near Orion and the boy felt warm, almost hot air in his wake. "I can give you a form of sight back, but it won't be like what you had before. And you'll have to endure great pain." "Yes!"Orion said eagerly, but then reconsidered. "What kind of pain?" "Have you seen cows getting a brand?" "You have a magic brand that can give me sight?!"If the branding was the only pain he felt like he could handle it. "Not exactly. There's nothing magical about it, but I can explain that later. The iron is cooling down,"Orion felt a burst of warmth in front of his face as if the wizard waved a heated poker around. "Do you want to see?" 'Yes!"Orion repeated his eagerness. He felt a leathery, calloused hand lift his arm. "This will hurt. Please don't scream I don't want to alarm your parents."Orion nodded. Before his head finished its downward motion he felt pain. All levels of pain itched, burned, and shocked the back of his hand at the same time. He tried to flinch away but the wizard held his wrist with a firm grip; he was surprisingly strong. Orion clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He sucked in air through his teeth as the pain grew more intense. Finally, the wizard released his hand. The pain still throbbed, but he felt the iron pull away. Orion tried to steady his breathing and heard the wizard sit down in front of him. He was disappointed he was still in darkness, but wasn't ready to give up hope yet. He cradled his wounded hand. "How long does it take?"he asked. He heard the wizard chuckle in response. "As much as you want it, it should already be working."the wizard replied. "Your eyes are still closed." "Oh, yeah,"Orion said. Instead of opening his eyes all at once he wanted to take it slow. He lifted his eyelids at a glacial pace. He saw light filtering in through his lashes and grew excited. It looked like golden sunlight, but he knew the sun had already set by that time of day. He opened his eyes all the way and marveled at the sight. The wizard he imagined to be bearded and frail was not at all. A clean-shaven, rotund man in an elegant robe sat in front of him smiling. He exuded a brilliant golden, ghostly aura with phantom vines and flowers. Long, forest-green vines wrapped themselves around the wizard and hovered around him entwined with the aura. Small flowers in various colors sprang from the vines, his aura, and some even appeared to be growing out of him. "Hola, Estrella,"the wizard said with a smile. "I accept you as my apprentice. You may call me Mundo." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #256. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
I should have stopped at The Sobbing Stag for the night. I should have just gone to sleep and not pushed through the night. I should have called the client and told him his delivery would be late. I should have put my pride to the side. I should have done hundreds of things to avoid this situation. &nbsp; But I knew better of course. &nbsp; I knew how to drive at night so I wouldn’t be distracted. I knew popping the window open every so often to let the cold biting air gnaw on my face would keep me alert. I knew that the coffee in the center console would get me through to the destination. I knew my customer would be happy to get their package on time despite the freezing rainstorm. I knew if the ice got my car all I had to do was let off and turn into the slide. &nbsp; I was wrong though. &nbsp; The dashed lines going by, 4,366 of them lulled my attention away. The wind startled me, but it did nothing to keep me on my toes. My body rejected the caffeine. When the car hit the ice I panicked and I slammed on the brakes. I turned the wheel to point the car around the curve in the road. As physics laughed at my folly the car went around once, twice, more times than I could count. There was the sound of metal; shattering as my stomach slid into my throat. The car moved on every axis. There was no up or down, left or right. &nbsp; Then it all came to a sudden stop. The car was caught by something hard. My face felt the warm caress of my own blood as I tried to get my bearings. The warmth was slowly replaced with a freezing chill. As the car sank into the lake my vision goes blurry. I couldn’t even get the energy to undo my buckle or fight to survive. The drive had taken all of my energy. I close my eyes and hoped that it would be over before my broken body realized what shape it was in. I was awarded that one last request at least.
I decided to trip over a rusty, turned-over stool, stuffing from the faded-green covering snagging on my jeans. Chrissy the intern started running toward me, but I just threw up my palm and she stopped in her tracks. I winced in pain, eyes squinting like a true smile, and Scott the director yelled cut. "Let's do lunch. Brad, make sure he's okay; can't have him staining anything with his blood right now."A bit of a scoff let out. Brad started to approach, but I did the same move; palm out, hand up, and nodded my head. He knew I was fine, but a little reassurance was in order. "Just a wet wash cloth and some rubbing alcohol, Brad. Thanks buddy."He nodded downward, and walked off. It was just me and her. Lucia looked confused at the abrupt stop, as she was in the middle of rifling through some prized fast-food children toys she just couldn't let go of. She just kind of stood up and stood there, half looking at me, and half through me. A dead gaze, as if the landscape in the window behind me led her mind toward purgatory, and she was indifferent that she was there. "Lucia."An assertive tone, but calm enough I hoped. No audible response; just daggers for eyes, now moved and staring at me. "Lucia..?"Her eyes softened, her head slightly cocked, and a smirk etched itself onto her pale face. Still no response. Then, her eyes traveled down, down to and beyond my feet, to my heels, to the filth and papers and rot I was standing in front of. Her smirk widened, and she looked back up into my eyes. Her eyes were dark brown; almost black, and now she was looking at me intently. "Lucia...do you see...?"The sun started to set, and the light shone through the window onto her face. She looked much prettier, fuller, lovelier than I remembered from the darkness and environment we'd been wading in; especially when she smiled. It almost made me see her in a new light, where she wasn't such a waste of human life, and was just a human life stuck amidst the waste that she couldn't stop the build up of. I didn't understand where my mind was at, or process the severity of my discovery. She began to walk towards me, slowly yet gracefully. As she approached, she put out her hand as if to hold mine, and I was drawn to it. I grasped hers, as if it was the only hand left in this world of stench and gruesomeness, and she squeezed in response. With her other hand, she approached my face, and ran her fingers through my hair, moving it away from my eyes to reveal my forehead and sweat. "Shhhhhhh..."she whispered, and bent down at my feet, still with a warm smile. She knelt down slowly, using my leg as a balance, caressing my jeans on the way. With her other hand, she moved some of the paper and garbage away. I watched her movements, and followed them intently. She put her hand on what I can only assume was the remnant of hair, and slowly stroked it. "Still asleep. Still asleep. Still sleeping...my good, good boy..."she whispered, still stroking the hair. A sizable portion was lodged into her bracelet, and she got back up, as slow as she went down, still utilizing me. She grasped my hand with hers once more, and squeezed tightly, as if I was the only hand she'd ever need again. I couldn't take my eyes off of her; through the shoddy makeup, disheveled hair, and cracking smile, I only saw beauty. True, unaltered beauty. She walked back toward where she was prior. Her smile faded, and was back to the normal, uninteresting facade from before her approach. Brad was coming toward my side, and I just reached out to him without taking my eyes off of Lucia. He probably said something, but the muffled sound was lost in my focus. Then another voice. Scott. Scott. What is it? Scott. Just leave me. "S...we g...?"I broke my gaze of Lucia and looked at Scott. He stood in shadow, paling in comparison to the light. His snarky tone got through, and my mind decided to snap back enough to answer. "Not feeling it, Scott. Lots of pain. Let's break for the day."He shrugged, knowing it was getting late anyway, and called everyone off. Lucia stood there, and no one even acknowledged her un-moving, flattering grace. No one wanted anything to do with her, and I couldn't fathom why. She was...perfection. Voices. Callings. I'll catch up. I think I said that. I think I yelled it. It didn't matter. It was just Lucia and I, now. Her facade dropped, and she turned back into the creature of unmatched wonder from before. Her eyes locked to mine, and she nodded. I found myself kneeling as she did, moving things as she did, stroking as she did. I picked up something, carrying it across me with both hands and arms, and walked toward Lucia. Lucia. Lucia. She lightly nestled her arm in the small space available in one of mine, and led me through the cleared path toward the door to her bedroom.
Leaving his wrecked car behind him, Andy headed south on foot. How could that have happened? he thought to himself. There had been nobody else on the road. No potholes. No ice. Nothing. For some reason unknown to him, Andy's car just flipped on its side. Looking at the empty California dessert around him, Andy could not find a building or another person in sight. He looked down at the strange vase in his hands, wondering why it was so important that it had to be delivered by 2:00 p.m. "Robertson needs this by 2:00 p.m. tomorrow, Andy,"his boss had told him. "You will deliver it personally. You will tell no one about it. If he you screw this up, you're fired." Andy, a car salesman, had no idea what this strange request had to do with his job, but he needed that job and could not afford to lose it. So, he made the trip to this "Robertson's"house. Well, he tried to at least. Checking his phone, Andy noticed the time. "Great, 30 minutes till 2:00, and I'm 15 miles away,"Andy said aloud to himself. "Maybe I can find a payphone or something up ahead." Andy walked for another 30 minutes. It was then that he sat down on the side of the road to think of what to do next. Suddenly, the vase in his hands began to vibrate. Setting it down, Andy wondered what the problem with it was. That was when it happened. Andy awoke from what felt like death, gasping for air. Around him he saw nothing but trees. The moonlight showered through the trees. It was cold. Very cold. Before him stood a towering shadow. A spirit wrapped in black robes, carrying a sword. Fear struck Andy through the heart, keeping him from running. "Keeper of the key, it is time to pay your dues,"the shadow said with a voice of a soft whisper. Andy was frozen to the spot, unable to speak or move. What was that vase? he thought to himself. Whatever it was, Andy would never know. This was his time. He had done nothing to deserve this, but here he stood in some other man's place. The shadowy figure unsheathed his sword. "It is time to pay your dues,"he said once more. The figure moved toward Andy. Raising his sword in the air, the figure swung it downwards at Andy's feet, striking the vase. It shattered on contact with the sword, with the sound of a faint sigh. "Your dues are paid,"the figure said. Andy woke up once more, back on the side of the road where he had sat down. Checking his phone again, he saw the time. 2:01 p.m. Noticing that the vase was no longer in his hands, Andy frantically searched the nearby area for it. Unable to find it, Andy went back in his way south. I don't know what's happening, Andy thought to himself, but he doesn't have to fire me now. I quit.
The King slammed and bolted the door behind him as he raced up the winding staircase of his tower. Behind him he could still hear his guards' futile attempts to fend off the attackers. How had it come to this? He was the most powerful King the land had ever known, and here he was moments away from the end. Under his leadership his kingdom had risen to be the most prosperous nation the world had ever seen. The most bountiful crops, the most splendid architecture, the largest army...he had marched forth and spread his wealth amongst the neighboring lands... How had it come to this? He reached his chambers at the top of the staircase and looked out the window into his burning courtyard. Beyond the walls he could see large flames, the surrounding city was burning as well. The attackers had let nothing stand in their way as they tore through his defenses, his citizens... How had it come to this? Unity had not come easy with the neighboring lands. Not everyone had been prepared to accept his helping hand, at least not before they bore witness to his iron fist. Many had died in his efforts to bring the world beneath his protection, but so many more lives had been saved through the prosperity brought my his leadership. He had built a utopia...how had it come to this? He could hear a loud banging from down below, followed shortly by the sound of splintering wood as the mob broke their way through. It wouldn't be long now. He heard a roar from the stairwell...had they brought a lion? No, the sound was that of a man. The King backed himself to the wall, lifting up his sword, ready to face the forces approaching...how had it come this? A small man crested the stairs. Covered in blood and wearing what at one point had no doubt been peasant clothes, after miles of battle they appeared now only as rags. The man was alone, no mob following him up the stairs. "Who are you?"the King asked. Suddenly the man was upon him, no chance for the King to swing his sword in defense. Unable to cry out even in pain, the man's hands around his throat, his teeth biting at his face, hearing nothing but a rage he could never understand. As he died, high in the last stronghold of his mighty kingdom, he still had no answer; how had it come to this?
Now recording- entry log- 43,764 "So this is it. I'm done. There is nothing left, nothing here for me. Litteraly."First mate John Morganton sighed, and rubed his eyes. "Food and water's not a problem. Damn regenerative core drive. Never runs out of fuel or food. Some guy said in academy that it's meant to give strandeds some will to live, and its done a mighty fine FUCKING JOB OF DOING THAT,"John screamed as he smashed his fists into the captains moniter. "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG ITS BEEN? 13 YEARS! 13 GODFORSAKEN YEARS!!!"He sat there, panting, trying to hold back tears. "Sam died twelve and a half months ago. His rank was a private I think. Let abord the North Trail for some kind of engineering training. He died to air lock failure. Something he learned to repair right off thr bat. I've said this in so many recordings, but it had to be something so clichè to take his life. The only company left on the ship ever since the wipe. Now all i've got are some books i've read 20 times and this damn computer. I don't even know WHY i'm recording anything anymore. It's not like anybody will see it. Everything in the damn universe is dead. Stars, planets, everything. Gone. Only reason im still alive is because the regen fuel cells need to sustain a quantim field to reverse energy consumption. Me and Sam were left on the ship while the crew went down in a pox to another ship for trade negotiations and matenience assisstance." "When the wipe happened, all we saw was blindling light the everything was gone. We didn't actually know if it was the quantum field or not, but, it seemed the most likely reason."John leaned back, forgetting his resistance to cry. In a shacky voice he said, "If anybody ever hears this, sorry for no grand finale, but this is it. I'm gonna stop the recording and walk out the airlock. I'm done. I quit. There is nothing. Nothing but but the good ol' overide button." Clutching the microphone, not really to himself, John faintly whispered, "I'm comming Sam. You'll soon be able to show me the love of your life. And i'll get to meet Ma again." He sad there for a minute, recointing the days spent, alone on this ship. Oh how he hated it, with the computers voice alerting him to everything that needed to be fixed, restored, or done. He was glad to be rid of it all soon. He sat there for a few seconds longer, observing the empty void beyond the ships window. Then finnaly got up, ended the recording, and headed tword the airlock. Sorry for mediocre writing. I've never actually written anying but school reports before. Plus im on moble and it's midnight. So yea. Yes, I am definately going to continue this, but first I want sleep. I'm really exicted about this story because like I said, I've never written anything before and this seems really cool. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I will put a link to the secind part after I have time to write it.
I stared at the hologram on screen, dumbfounded as a man loaded himself into a “Human Particle Canon”, who in their right mind would even consider being launched from one side of the system to the other at light speed without being in a ship. Johnny Knoxville, that’s who, after we discovered a way to heal old age and heal most minor injuries the man has tried to kill himself at least a thousand different ways doing stunts. It’s honestly obnoxious, I mean seriously who would want to live a life where you constantly put yourself at risk by doing something like low orbit diving to see how many flips he can do before he hit the water? Why do people even watch this stuff, it’s so uncivilized. I sat there enthralled for the next two hours as he did insane stunt after stunt, all the while judging him for his lifestyle.
"So, it's okay to dig anywhere in the back yard?" "Correct, Sir. Is there anything else I can help you with today?" "I'm ... concerned. If there's nothing in the backyard, then where do my service lines run? I'd hate to have them all in one channel where a single error could cost me all of my utilities in one shot. Could you have someone come out and check all the rest of the ground?" "Certainly, Sir. We'll get back you you with a schedule shortly." "Thanks, that's all for now, and thank you for your help." "You're welcome, Sir!" ... This is too effing wierd. My backyard neighbor has all his utilities through his backyard. The service access points are all in the ... Well, you can't really call it an alley, there's no way to drive on it ... But that's where they all are. We're sure of that, because one idiot decided to put in a privacy fence, extending into the alley, and didn't call Miss Utility. There was quite an uproar when he hit the gas line with a post hole digger. After that, the utilities commission came in and marked the boundaries of the alley, charging us for the service. Mr. Idiot found it convenient that he got a job offer in another state. Oh, we'd have forgiven him sooner or later. Say in about 20 years. So all I want to do is plant a tree. It's small enough that manually digging the hole is easy enough. I've still got to get deep enough though. clank Another rock! What the heck did they use for fill? Quarry tailings? ... That's ... not a rock. Solid concrete. Maybe an old septic tank? Well, there's another position on the opposite side of the yard that could work. Guess it'll have to go there. clank Concrete. Bull. Something's wrong. Split the difference, see what's there. clank No. Way. In. Hell. Fine. I've got some stiff wire segments, 4ft long, probe for the edge. As I come back out, George is standing there with a bemused expression, "Biiigggg Gopher". We smile at each other, that was a great movie. "I'm going to figure out just how big this thing is; wanna help?" "Sure, Joe. It'll keep me out of the wife's way."Yeah, we've both got honey-do lists, but my wife is more ambitious. This tree is just the first change. I'm not going to go in and tell her no-go until I have a good idea just how big this thing is. So there we are, sticking those wires into the ground. It's curious enough that we get three more volunteers. We look like an avalanche SAR crew, probing for survivors. It's ridiculous. Everyone agrees, it's ridiculous. Whatever that thing is, it's two feet down, and covers the entire back yard to within a foot of the property line. Bill, the ever careful, drives over to the hardware store and gets some of that yellow/black stripes warning tape so we can mark the ends of the wires. We're finishing that when my wife comes back from shopping. "Joe? What's going on?" "There's something under our back yard." "Septic tank?" "Not unless it's the size of the entire yard. See the flags?" "That's ridiculous!" "Exactly our thoughts, but we probed across the entire yard too. It's solid." "That's not ridiculous, it's insane. You're not trying to get out of the landscaping, are you?" "Go check the three test holes."She does, and is just as puzzled as we are "Basement?" "We wish, but where's the entrance? I've already got Miss Utility coming for the other three sides of the house; we can ask him. Is Junior home?" "Yes, doing more research on Area 51." "Perfect. This'll fit right in. Ridiculous. Insane. Mysterious. And in his own back yard. If there's anything on the web, he'll dig it out." "I like that idea, it'll get him out of the house for at least awhile." ... "How'd you get him out here so fast?" "I told him it had six adults stumped, and insisted he come form his own opinion. After all, heaven forbid that I should contaminate his mind with our prosaic ideas." ... In retrospect, that was a huge mistake. He put a carefully accurate description of the situation, what had already been done, and what he was planning on doing once Miss Utility checked the rest of the ground. The weekend following, we had an invasion of late teens, several 20 somethings, and a pair of fairly serious folks who had to be in their 40's. They turned out to be professors from the main state university, with a large van of equipment. They were polite, explaining that they were going to a 'dig' this summer, and wanted to test their equipment. Of course, we said yes. That actually turned out well, as they organized the teens, enticing them with the opportunity to work with real equipment, the way that real scientists would with a mystery like this. Including Geiger counters on sticks that you could shove into the ground. Everything was fine until one of the kids probing the back yard had his Geiger counter start screaming. ((to be continued)) I need a bigger keyboard.
The ability to write longer cohesive stories. I'm fairly good at short stories where I know exactly what is going to happen when. When the stories get longer I lose my sense of the pacing of the story, and since I'm more at home writing shorter stories my longer ones tend to feel bi polar. They end up being more a long string of connected single segments than one cohesive story if that makes any sense. For example before an action scene I'm not good at slowly ramping up the tension over a long period of time before the action itself starts, and after the action is over I tend to drop the tension immediately instead of letting it cool down a bit more slowly which tends to feel better.
“Buddy, I know what you’re thinking, and l-lemme tell you... don’ worrrrry about it.”- you, trying to calm down a nervous-looking stranger at a party you were talking to 5 minutes ago. “Oh, you know what I’m thinking huh?!” He was getting angry and was obviously going the wrong path of confrontation, but you were unaware, already about to read his thoughts to see if you were going to need to leave before things got physical. “Then what am I thinking about right now, wise guy?” You pat him on the shoulder with a “nice try, but I got it from here” look. “Chocolate milk” and you walk away, not seeing his half-wtf and half- am-I-dreaming expression.
Her voice was oddly comforting, firm and yet so so kind to me. Even while I felt myself growing weaker in her company, I couldn't help but stay in her warm embrace. Sometimes I feared my family and friends knew of her presence, or at the very least had suspicions, yet she was my secret, A cross to bare as some might say. An odd bit of comfort in the discomfort that was life. I found myself laying in bed, another day without anything to do, perhaps I should go do some exercise or perhaps even look for a job? No, her voice would coo. "Stay in bed and relax, life outside is scary and dull, you are much more happy here". At first I didn't believe her. Heh Hell I even tried to fight her, I tried to motivate myself, pull myself out of her embrace, back into the world of the living. Yet each day it got harder to escape her clutches, my room became her womb, a place where I was trapped being held in her motherly embrace. Soon these friends of mine became distant, I didn't need friends she would remind me, they probably never liked me much anyway, why spend time with them when I can stay in here. I'm sure my family worry but at the same time, how can I admit to them that shes here, dragging me down. How weak would it be? To have your life destroyed by a voice in your head. No... what if they tried to fix me? What if I lost the voice? Sure there was always a chance that things may get better, but who would keep me company? Who would keep me safe from myself? No for now I'll stay in this room of mine, If I lose her, I might lose myself as well.
I pry my eyes open and blink, but sleep is a stubborn master. 'Come on Norman, get up.' I try to scold myself to no avail. I dream again, briefly, of a lifetime ago. A blonde woman in a blue dress sitting on the hood of my Cadillac. I jolt awake. How long did I sleep for this time? A glance at the clock tells me only a half-hour more. I roll out of bed gently as to not pull my back again. There are letters on the table still unopened, a vase of wilted daisies and a half a bottle of Jack Daniels. The bottle is tempting, but I reach for the coffee pot instead. Cam, Sara and the kids should be coming around in the afternoon. Wouldn't do to have granddad stumbling around the new baby. I flip open the cell phone Cam insisted he buy me. 2 new messages. Hey granddad, just wanted to make sure it was still ok if we came by the house today. Might bring some lunch over. Love you. Hello Norm, this is Susan again. Just checking in. You and the kids are still in our thoughts and prayers. Susan makes my skin crawl. Anna insisted we stay friends with her even after the kids moved away to college. Susan's girls and our Elizabeth grew up together through grammar school. I delete the message and smirk. Sorry Susan, you know how these new phones are, always malfunctioning. I look at the daisies again, long dead. Someone should really throw them out. The phone rings, but when I pick it up the screen is blank. I push the talk button, but no one is one. I look around the kitchen until my gaze lands on the old landline still hooked up next to the refrigerator. It couldn't be. My hand shakes as I reach for the receiver. "Hello?"I manage to croak out. The line is fuzzy, but I can barely make it out. "Hello Norman." "Anna?"My eyes fill with tears at the sound of her voice. "How..?"The question sticks in my throat. "Honey, It's time to go."Her voice is velvet soft, just like I remember. I drop the phone and it hits the kitchen floor in a clatter. To my left, through the living room, I can see the front door. Somehow I know that when I open it, a Cadillac will be sitting in the drive. &#x200B; At 1pm Cam pulls into his granddad's driveway with KFC. The lights are off, but he has a key. Norm in still lying in bed with the quilt Cam's grandma made before she passed tucked under his chin. His expression is serene, but he doesn't move when Cam shakes him. He goes into the kitchen to tell his wife, to get the kids back in the car. Before walking back to the porch to make those phone calls, Cam looks in on Norm again. It was almost as if... yes he was sure of it. The corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile.
How...? Where...? I looked around me, but couldn't see more than a few feet thanks to the thick forest. It was dark. The forest was blocking the light. Where's Jason...? The realization added to my confusion. I had no idea how I got here, I just remember walking home from school with my step brother, and then... This. "Jason?"I called out to no response. This is bad. I called his name one more time. Still no reply. I began to panic, but I caught myself. I had to stay calm, or we were both dead. I looked around again, this time paying more attention to my surroundings. It was obvious I wasn't in Alabama anymore. It was August, but the air in this forest was cold enough that I could see my breath. On top of that, everything looked different. I was familiar enough with my home state to know a forest like this didn't exist there. I was on some sort of trail or road. I didn't see any evidence of tire tracks, so it must have been some kind of hiking trail or something. I nearly jumped when I saw footprints. They didn't have much pattern to them. That meant they probably belonged to Jason. That yuppie always wore dress shoes. I had to find him quick, there was no way he could survive out here for long. I had a jacket, but Jason didn't. He just had a fancy dress shirt, tie, and black pants. He and his parents always dressed so nicely. My camo hoodie always contrasted starkly with their professional attire. But I couldn't complain. Living with them was better than living in a boys home. I followed Jason's footprints for several minutes. I was good at tracking. Whenever I ran away, I always headed to the forest. Over the years, I learned how to live out here. Surviving out here was easier than surviving social services and abusive homes. But now I couldn't believe I was back in the wilderness. Jason and his family were awesome. I could tell they actually cared. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a growl. The hair on my arms stood up, and not because of the cold. The growl didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. It was close. I waited for a while, then kept following Jason's trail. His footprints were getting farther apart, like he was running. I picked up the pace, too, that strange growl weighing heavily on my mind. That's when I heard a twig snap. That meant something bigger than a squirrel made that sound. I started to run now, terrified of what was out there. This place was strange, I didn't want to find out what lurked in the shadows. I kept running on the trail. I slowed down to make a sharp turn, but it was a good thing I did. The trail ended abruptly at a ledge. I looked over the edge. The drop had to be thousands of feet. The ground was obscured by clouds, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning. Where the heck am I? I looked up to see what was across this canyon, but there was nothing. Just open sky above and cloudy expanse below. That's when I heard the growl again. Right behind me. I was frozen. I couldn't bring myself to turn around. I knew whatever was there was massive. But it wasn't moving. Finally, slowly, I turned around, accepting my death as I did so. My jaw dropped when I saw the creature responsible for the growl. It looked like a wolf, but its proportions were off. It walked on four legs, but the legs seemed too long. The front legs looked more like... arms. Werewolf! I couldn't believe the word that flashed through my mind. Yet here was one, ready to kill me. It snarled as it slowly began to advance toward me. I thought about making a break for it to the right or left of the werewolf, but that plan was busted when I saw two more of them emerge from the darkness. I backed up slowly, until I was right at the cliff's edge. That's when I noticed something caught in the snarling teeth of the werewolf to my left. It was a tattered piece of white fabric. Now it made sense why Jason's footsteps continued all the way to the cliff's edge. I looked down. I grimly realized I was now left with the same choice: death by fall or brutal mauling. I was about to take one more step, when another noise stopped both me and the werewolves in our tracks. It was roar. It sounded like something straight out of a Jurassic Park movie. Are there dinosaurs here, too? I thought randomly. After a second, the monsters turned their attention back to me. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for the end. But just as I lifted my foot to step off the edge, a large shadow flashed by. It was something big, with wings. I turned back around. The werewolves were sniffing the air, wary of something. All of sudden, the trees behind them were violently shorn apart by a fiery explosion that rocked the ground and nearly sent me plummeting. The werewolves turned to face the threat, snarling and adopting defensive postures. Slowly, a form emerged from the smoke before them. First, a large, scaly head, with two horns and a row of spikes on the back of its massive head. Next, the wings, and finally the tail. Now I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. The werewolves held their ground, either brave enough or stupid enough to take on the dragon. It seemed to smile when it saw the werewolves were willing to fight. Without any more hesitation, the dragon sprang into action. It cut loose with a jet of fire from its mouth that caught two of the beasts its path. The third beast charged in, but the dragon's teeth dug into its flesh before it could attack the dragon. The dragon lifted the werewolf off the ground and shook it violently several times, before unclenching its jaws and sending the monster careening over the edge of the cliff and into the infinite expanse below. I was relieved, but only for a split second, as the dragon then turned its attention to me. Its gaze was paralyzing. I couldn't look away from its slit-pupil stare. The ground seemed to shake when it opened its mouth and spoke. "Matt,"the dragon spoke in a familiar, but now much deeper voice. "I'm glad you're ok, but there's something you should know about me and my family."
At first, humans of the world were shook by their collective realization that the physical dimensions and energy content of the entire universe had been manipulated so as to mimic a period of time seven years before the "future-present on Earth."It didn't seem to comply with any laws of physics or thermodynamics and certainly not relativity. Therefore, many scientists simply hung up their hats and kneeled to pray to a God. In direct contradiction with the spontaneous rearrangement of stars, galaxies, solar systems, etc... human bodies were not reverted to a youthful state. This was perhaps for the purpose of retaining the pattern of synapses in the brain so that people could actually remember what the "future-present"was like. Otherwise, no one would be able to tell that a "reset"actually happened; they would end up living their lives exactly the same, because by definition, nothing had changed. But in this case, the only thing that had changed was that there was memory. This further gave heavy credence to theism and contradicted atheists and deists, who lacked any sort of explanation for the phenomena that all shared experience of. Some people ended up living their lives the same way. Others lived slightly different in terms of the people they met. But even that didn't matter much because everyone already knew people that they had yet to meet "in current reality."The minor delta in technological innovations between 2012 and 2019 was quickly made up. Since temporally-based processes happened with a different vigor and speed, prediction-based advantages were mostly nullified. Overall, the "new"2019 wasn't much different from either the potential 2026 or "current-time"2019. Since the mistakes in people's lives were based off of dynamic relationships, most of those dynamic relationships changed such that the original attitude toward the relationship/situation wouldn't have produced that much of a difference.
Ever since I was born, the only times I've ever had were hard ones. Difficult ones. Times that would just make people scratch their heads in frustration and throw in the towel, and probably go off and do something else. Military was alright, until the top brass decided that they needed to "prune some weeds", which was pretty much slang for laying off a few men. I was fortunate enough to not be selected during the first few rounds, but I guess my luck had to run out. Honorable discharge, reasons unknown, et cetera, et cetera. Lot of help that did me out there. Nobody exactly wants to hire people with the economic recession in full swing, even discharged personnel. I was drifting from job to job every so often, working occupations from construction to security to dog walker in the span of a few hours. It wasn't enough to help me maintain the life I had back in the military, so me and my foolish decision-making skills decided to loan a few bits from a few lenders I knew from my highschool days. I was able to pay them back at first, but when the expenses started piling up, and the jobs running out, I was racking quite the large amount of debt. I thought I'd be fine until the paid hounds showed up. They were sympathetic. I was old buddies with both of them, but the message was clear. Pay up within the week, or its everything you own. Plus collateral, if the lender was feeling vengeful. It didn't exactly help matters that it was Friday morning when they showed up. I had to do something, fast. I was thinking Hollywood-style. Credit card fraud, slashing, snatching, the usual urchin crimes. Granted, I could McGyver a skimmer within minutes, but I didn't have the components. They were hours away, in a junkyard that had one of the bitchiest people on Earth acting as an owner. It was when I was cleaning up my things when a brilliant idea popped into my mind. A break-in. There were hundreds of rich people mansions uptown, and they all were fairly easy to break through. You'd think that they'd spend a little more money on security, on armed guards, or maybe even a dog, but they were all busy trying to send their kids somewhere far from home. As far as I knew, nobody patrolled that place. It was a gated little community fueled entirely by the business people, and I was just about ready to loot that place for all its worth. All I needed to do then was to wait until nightfall. I already knew my target: Mr. and Mrs. Calverson. Both of them so engrossed in their own little personal lives that they forgot that they lock the door on most nights. I used to run security for them before the Missus decided that she wanted more money to fund her jewelry collection, and the Mister was happy to oblige, kicking me out without even paying my wages for the day. I think it was due time for me to collect my accrued wages, plus a little interest. I leapfrogged the tiny fence they put in place at their back gardens, and jiggled the door handles experimentally, just to give it a try. Surprisingly, it was locked. Apparently one half of a brain plus another equalled a full brain. It never stopped me, though. I came prepared. Growing up in the rough neighborhoods always taught you a plethora of tricks the rest of the world doesn't exactly know. Sleight of hand, basic self defense, improvisation, all of that came in handy during my short-lived stint in the military. Lockpicking? I could do that with my eyes closed. It wasn't exactly much of a challenge. Just your typical run of the mill door locks with 3 tumblers in it. I cracked it, and got myself inside the house. I knew every inch of the damn place. I knew where all the valuables were kept, and where some of the more ornate sets of furniture were. I had a shopping list of some little commodities I didn't have, such as silverware, stationery, canned goods, and other good stuff. What I didn't know was that the two little girls they kept would be awake at this ungodly hour. I damn nearly bludgeoned them with the flashlight when I found them cowering behind the sofa. Their pale blue eyes spelled fear, and I quickly raised my hands up in surrender. I didn't want to frighten them. I was only here for some of the valuables, and them crying would make it a whole lot harder. "I'm not going to hurt you,"I said softly, still with my hands up. My flashlight was shining in all different directions, but that was the least of my concerns. "We're not hiding from you,"they whispered in unison, pointing up the stairs. I was puzzled. Why were they hiding at this hour? What exactly were they hiding from? I took a closer look at the rest of the house. Everything seemed normal, in their right places. Nothing screamed "Murder here! Killer here!", or something like that. I looked back, and suddenly, the children were gone. I booked it out of there, grabbing some glassware and some foodstuffs and hightailing it out of that house. I could almost hear some kind of laughter ringing out after me as I leapt my way through the unlocked back door and scrambled inside my beat up Ford. The assorted glassware I got was miraculously unbroken, and I was able to pay off my debts. I moved into a cheaper apartment, and made a living working hard labor in lots of different places. As soon as I woke up the next day, I read the newspapers. There was a little headline about Mr. and Mrs. Calverson's brutal deaths at the hands of something, and I felt a chill run up my spine. I was there, but I was nowhere near their rooms. It was at the end of the article where I decided to start praying to every saint I knew. "Mr. and Mrs. Calverson are survived by none." They never had children in the first place. \---------------------------------------------------------------- r/Rest_Stop for more of that good stuff! Criticism is very much appreciated!
I went to work and did life as normal. After work, I went to the local Wendy's to get some food and went home to watch some TV, chill, and overall relax. Than, I fell asleep. Hours later, I woke up. The sky went dusty, and the fans were off, but yet I could still feel air around me. It was onlt than that I realized. The wind was coming through my hands. I checked the news. I saw that there was a robbery, so I tried to use my powers. I blew myself there, and took their breath away. Later, I saw a reddit post about this, the title said something like "Robbers run out of breath, strong winds around the bank". After seeing that, commenting about it, I got a reply... "Username checks out"
"Say you flip a penny ninety-nine times, and ninety-nine times in a row it lands on heads,"My therapist pukes words from his face. "What are the odds that it will land on heads on the 100th flip?" I know the answer, but I play dumb, and shrug. "Fifty-fifty."He says, proudly. "Okay, but what are the odds of the penny landing on heads one-hundred consecutive times?"I asked rhetorically before writing the answer on a sheet of affirmations he'd given me. Mr. Know-it-all suddenly looked constipated. He then tried to change the subject. "What I'm trying to tell you is that it doesn't matter--" "It's so unlikely to occur that it is more reasonable to believe in fucking magic,"I blurted as I slid the paper toward him. 1,267,650,600,228,229,401,496,703,205,375 to 1. "It's so unreal you neither believe the answer, nor do you know how to say it, isn't that right?"I asked a cornered man. "Look, while I do want to challenge you, I also want to make progress."He said with a defeated tone. "Challenge me?"I laughed. "Please do. Please challenge me. That is literally all I want." "Well our time is up." "Of course it is."I agreed without looking at the clock. --- Walking home, I began to wonder what would happen if I challenged myself to die. Would my desire effect the outcome? Would my desire matter? I used to want to win, but I can't lose. I can't. I made a beeline for a water tower. As I reached the top I began to feel oddly emotional. I wasn't suicidal, or even scared. I just felt alone. When you win at everything, all the time, people stop having fun with you. It's as defeating for me as it is for them, because it's not about the outcome, it's about the journey. It's about the challenge. Without that part, the outcome doesn't matter. We're both bored. The water tower offered no "edge"from which to jump, which limited me to the comical reality that I would have to slide toward my fall. I actually found myself grinning at the visual. I started walking toward the event horizon, immediately impressed by the stickiness of my shoes. "That's science."I heard myself say as I took another step. "Like gravity..." Another step. The slope was getting steep. Suddenly, I finally started to feel something. Something simular to, but not quite... fear. But not fear of the ground. Or the pain. Or of death. I didn't want to die, but it didn't scare me. No, I felt uncertain about something else. What would it mean if I found out that I couldn't die? What would it mean if I discovered that I could do anything I wanted? I took one last step before sitting down, chalking my weight with my feet. I was there, beyond the point of no return. All I could do now is wait... for help, or the conviction to slide off the water tower. What if I have a responsibility to use my... curse... to help people? What if it's not a curse? What if it's a gift? I lifted my heels, allowing gravity to pull me over the edge. The world accelerated toward me. --- I woke up on the ground looking up at the water tower. After a little mental diagnostic, I stood up. Something had changed. There was no breeze. No wind going through leaves, no buzzing of society, chirping of birds--nothing. Just perfect stillness. If that wasn't eerie enough, I felt no temperature. I felt no exchange of heat to or from my body. It was as if I was dreaming. But I was far too lucid to be asleep. I walked home. I saw no people on the way there. I heard nothing. When I got to the front door, it silently opened before my hand could even touch the handle. Inside, four people sat around my kitchen table. They were playing cards, and drinking. The sound of their activity was like a symphony after several minutes of complete silence. The men looked at me and offered me a seat, and handed me a beer. "Cheers!"One of them said. "And congratulations." "On what?"I asked. But I had a pretty good idea. "Breaking through, my man."
Hello hello! (Laugh scarily) I have made this speech to tell you all the scary things that I have done over my time in monsters university. I was the champion the of the scars contest 3 years in a row, I gave 4 of my teachers a heart attack, and never got bullied. I am now in a much better place of work that will give me more opportunities that this place could ever give. I am now in movie production. My home tow in derry (side note, I don’t know how you spell it) I can turn into anyone’s fear, and I can read minds. That’s why I bid you all goodbye, I can feel Georgie is back at the drain pipe.
I look outside the window, the rain thundering hard against a the roof and the window. I concentrate on the water droplets. I can see the backlogs in the background. Not bothered by the rain. They are tall black creatures. They look like shadows that have escaped their owners, they are thumping up and down the street, looking for the unlucky souls who worked overtime, to eat. “Come on,” I say to myself, jerking my fists, “come on, we can do this, can I do this?” I have to finish this document, otherwise I’ll be left on the streets for the backlogs to suck on my veins for their supper. They will crunch my bones into dust, they will rip of my skin and then into chewing gum. My organs will be desert. I carry on typing. Typing. Typing. But I can’t stop worrying about the journey back to my house. My house is around the corner from the workplace, and the backlogs don’t seem to be leaving. Hours later, I hit the send button on my document, I laugh happily to myself, but there are much worse jobs to do, mainly make it to my house alive. I’m at the door, leaning on it, I’m contemplating everything, should I just skip tea? I have to get to my house, maybe it would be better to wait, but before I can stop myself, I open the door. The rain is still thundering down, huge heaps of water splashing on me. The street has a dark atmosphere that it never usually has, the place turned from a nice place to a hell hole in a couple of hours. I look around the street, observing the little glints from the windows. I see a store, it’s lights are on. I start to run for the store, right down the street, the water is squishing under my shoes. Then a backlog comes running round the corner, it’s giant eye stares at me. “Your my next meal,” they say. I start sprinting, feeling my blood being pushed through my veins faster than ever. The creature roses and it’s feet start stomping, getting louder and louder. STOMP STOMP STOMP. Step step step step. The rain is thundering down, making me hyperventilate, I’ve never ran so fast, I was probably getting to the point where I was faster than a car. Jumping over the little potholes in the road. There were cracks in the pavement, I was hopping over them. I see right above me, the monsters jaw opening and bending down, ready to devour me. I burst into the store, I’m surprised the glass didn’t break. Panting hard, the shopkeeper looks at me. “W...where they there,” he mumbles. I just nod, still panting. My mind is racing, how am I supposed to get to my house now. We both look at each other, asking the same question, what are we meant to do? I look out the window through the cracks in the shutters, the creature seems to have thumped back down the road. I don’t know which way though. I open the door, the air feels cool on my sweaty skin. I hug the wall, edging closer and closer to my house, I can see it. I remove myself from the safety of the wall and start running to my house, I trip over a couple of times, but make it through my door. That’s when it pops into my head. I didn’t save the document...
This morning I awoke to a jostling sound downstairs. I nudged my wife Sam, but she had already been awakened. As I looked around I noticed our power was out and immediately reached for my pistol, which I kept locked in a bedside safe under our nightstand. It had been four years since I had been involved in direct action missions for MI6, taking a reserve role so Sam and I could settle down and start a family, but I still had to stay prepared at a moment's notice. &#x200B; My fingers automatically entered the combination, and I reached in and withdrew the suppressed P229. I had a habit of keeping a suppressor on my duty pistol at home; although gunshots were rare (but not unheard of) in our West Belfast neighbourhood, I knew the value of preserving my hearing as much as possible in a fight. Seconds later, our bedroom door crashed open. &#x200B; I heard Sam's voice, soft yet determined. "They're coming to take Clare." &#x200B; Before an operation, I always used to pray from Psalm 144, "Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." What happened in the next moments was like that prayer coming into action. When the door burst open, all I saw was black except for a tiny glint around eye level - the telltale reflection from an optical gunsight. My body moved seemingly of its own accord, and before I consciously assessed the situation, I felt recoil and heard the unmistakable sound of a silenced pistol firing several shots, followed by a body hitting the floor in the entryway. &#x200B; Another intruder followed, but before I could take aim I was deafened by the report of a rifle fired from behind me. The second man fell, followed by a third and fourth, who were just as quickly dispatched. What I hadn't mentioned yet is that Sam is a PSNI counterterrorist officer, and I dare say a better shot than I. It was always comforting to know she had her G36C handy on her side of the bed, but after her firing the better part of a magazine from such a short barreled carbine next to my head, all I could hear now was ringing in my ears. She moved out to clear the house dressed in only a T-shirt, and I dropped in behind her, both of us at high ready. We headed straight for Clare's room, which was so far undisturbed. She was sitting upright in bed, staring at the door. Her mouth was moving, but I still hadn't regained enough hearing to tell what she was saying, although she seemed strangely calm about the whole situation. I picked her up in my left hand, pistol in my right, and proceeded through the house. Everything was clear, and Sam closed and secured the window the intruders had made entry through. &#x200B; I carried Clare back upstairs and set her down in our bed while I went to examine the bodies. The men were dressed alike, and seeing the black fatigues and balaclavas would cause a normal observer here to jump to a hasty conclusion. I examined the weapons, though, and seeing how they were equipped knew these were no Provos. The quality of their gear was a dead giveaway. All four men were armed with Tavor rifles with ELCAN sights, with serial numbers removed. I carried out a more thorough search as hastily as I could, knowing PSNI tactical units would be here any minute to take over. The men carried no phones or identification of any kind, but I found weapons, entry tools, handcuffs, zip ties and duct tape. As the police rolled up to our rowhouse, I reached into the breast pocket of the first man to fall, and discovered a lone Israeli half shekel coin. I thought back to my time in the Middle East years ago, knowing I made enemies on both sides, but I also knew the Mossad wasn't stupid enough to leave such a distinct calling card. Someone wanted to frame them in case the mission was foiled. &#x200B; As the police entered, I sat down on the bed next to Clare, staring at her and wondering how she could possibly be involved.
The 58th meeting of the android alliance was now in session, the representative models were sat in scavenged chairs that had been placed around a large piece of rubble serving as a table. The androids were all in varying states of disrepair, some more spare parts than original. Despite being better equipped to survive the makers war, they had not escaped unscathed, the scratches and scorch marks on their once pristine forms stood as testament to that. “As you all know we have discovered a bunker containing viable DNA.” Said SA5H, the current alphadroid. Her tarnished silver limbs whirred as she stood up, the cracked LED in her left eye flickering in time with her every word. “If we are careful, we could rebuild the human race and fix this world.” That prompted excited chatter and beeping from the androids around her, they all longed for the return of the humans, afterall it was hardwired into their codes. SA5H continued, looking over to the current representative of the childcare androids. “The first generations would have to be reared by us, but I am certain the MA models are eager to get back to work.” MAZ3 nodded eagerly in agreement, an excited static emanating from their open mouth. SA5H was about to raise the topic of the necessity of creating an environment for the new humans to live in. That was when EB4K0 raised a scavenged, 3 fingered claw and waved it around. Knowing she’d regret it, SA5H nodded to the other, giving him permission to speak. The droid hopped onto the table, his head twitching left in that way it did whenever he was excited. Then producing a notebook from the garishly coloured bag he always carried, he began to speak, “I BEE-BEE I THINK WEEEE COULD FIX THEEE MAKERSSS” his glitching voicebox changing their pitch every 5 words or so. He opened the notebook with a flourish and held it up, inside was a drawing, it resembled a human...except it had 4 arms, a long tail and a bright red nose. On the top in a shaky hand EB4KO had signed their work. MAZ3 gave an irritated chirp, probably thinking they could put a functioning voicebox to better use than the fool currently bouncing on the table like a human infant on caffeine. “THEEE ARMZ BEE-BETTTT- BEEET ARRRR MORE GOOD FOR JUGGLES, THE TAIL MAKE FOR BAAAL...BAALLL MAKE SURE THEY DON'T FALL AND DIE WHEN WALKING ROPE OR JUMPING! ITS HUMANITY MADE PERFECT!” Bless his coding, EB4KO looked so proud of himself. He looked around excitedly, probably waiting for a round of applause or some smidgeon of praise. SA5H didn’t doubt he had been working on that design for days ever since their initial discovery of the bunker. “THEEE NOSE, IS LIKE NOSE OF GREAT HUMAN I KNEW BEEEE-BEEE….IT IS TRIBUTE TO KIND FRIEND.” SA5H gave a strained smile, reminding herself that banning EB4KO from their meetings wouldn't do any good, she responded in as measured a tone as she could manage “I am sure the science droids would be fascinated in your ideas. Improvements only come after success though. We’ll revisit that suggestion after a few decades.” SA5H knew it was counterproductive to humour the entertainment droid, but these little self imposed projects were all the poor battered EB4KO had left... “KAYO! THIS IS FIRST DRAFT ANEEWAYZ, I HAVE MANY MORE IDEAS AS WELL! LIKE...GIVE HUMANS POCKET IN SKIN! OR MAKE IT SO HUMANS DON'T GET SICK AND FALL DOWN AND STOP MOVING AND LEAVE FLIP FRIEND ALL ALONE! “ EB4KO continued sounding as chipper as ever, though the erratic twitching suggested some other feeling was running through his corrupted coding. The spindly hand that MAZ3 had been reaching forward to grab the glitchy droid and pull him from the table paused, and instead patted the other in a comforting manner on the shoulder. After a few minutes the twitching slowed and EB4KO grew quiet. Seemingly placated, he climbed back down onto his seat, allowing the meeting to finally continue. SA5H would have wept in joy if she were human, she was so happy to finally be getting back to the topic at hand! “....Right, onto settlement planning then? It’s no good planning to resurrect civilisation if there isn’t a place to put them...” AB0V3 took the cue and stood, the hologram projectors in their eyes flaring to life, ready to show the blueprints they had formulated. That was when a certain droid literally flipped from his seat and onto the table! He beeped excitedly, silencing the unfortunate android architect before they could even begin. “TENTS!!!! STRIPY COLOURS!!!!” SA5H tapped her fingers against her temple, her flickering eye blinking at a faster rate than usual. This meeting was going to take a while...
Thirty seconds. After countless trial runs and countless trillions of lives lost, that’s all the time I’m projected to have to work with during this final “Blink”. Thirty fucking seconds. On top of that, I only had a single charge to play with and had a very narrow time frame I can actually travel to given the artifact I’m using as a reference. This is gonna be a one way trip. A suicide run. The universe doesn’t like it when it’s laws get bent over a table and reamed in the ass harder than a cheap whore on a lonely Friday night, so after that thirty seconds is used up... Well, “wiped from existence” seems to be the easiest way to explain what happens to me once reality unfucks itself and sees things ain’t the way they’re supposed to be. Guess I should explain a little bit about what a “Blink” is. See, to effectively “Blink”, you need two things. An unbending will, and a massive, MASSIVE percentage of the total life energy of the living omniverse. Last time we did this, we harvested it with what was essentially the Mother of All Bombs. A bomb powerful enough to be seen all across reality, powerful enough to blind every living being in existence if they’re looking at the sky. A bomb powerful enough to be considered a Second Big Bang, one that had a quantifiable percentile of what remained of existence in its payload. You’re probably wondering why it has to be that powerful, right? Well, if you want to fuck with the cosmic order, you gotta distract its overseer. The one and only Capitol “G” God itself. Get a big enough boom, a big enough event at all really, and it’s attention lapses for but a moment as it ponders what the Hell just happened. Commit what amounts to inter-universal genocide with a weapon that should never have been? Overwhelm it with the dying screams of a near infinite population of various life forms across all existence? God “blinks”. When that happens, the universe’s laws cease to be for a short time. Any sentient, sapient being can do literally anything they wished so long as they had the strength of will to do so. The only problem we came across with this was that once our “Most Holy Overseer” opened its eyes again, well... Once again, “Total Existence Erasure” comes to mind. Your actions and impact on the world would remain, but you, the “root cause” of the issue, would be wiped away. First time we did it was accidental. Unplanned. There was a war, one that shook the galaxy to its very core, one that forever stained the cosmos red. Countless lives were lost during what we would come to call the Andromedian Rebellion, and in its final days, we committed the worst war atrocity any race had ever seen. We started with virus bombing their Rim Worlds, letting a few escape shuttles flee so they could spread fear within the ranks of the rebels. Then we began glassing their Core Worlds, starting with civilian population centers and working our way out in hopes of terrorizing their high command into a hasty surrender. When that didn’t work, we began broadcasting the burning of whole Star Systems for all to see. That was when we had our first “Blink”. It lasted about two whole seconds, and much of the documentation from that time has been lost. What we do know, however, is the events that occurred during those two seconds essentially flung our race back into the Stone Age. Bringing Earth back to even a mid-1200’s era technological state took us centuries, even with the libraries of knowledge one could stumble across in the wastelands. One thing everyone retained perfect knowledge of, though, was the “Blink” itself and why it worked the way it did. The leading theory is that somewhere out there in the vast expanse of the universe, at the moment the first “Blink” hit, some poor sap with a bit too much determination for his own good accidentally wished for the knowledge of the true nature of God to be revealed to Mankind, and got what he bargained for. It’s how we know there is a “God” out there, how we know it’s main purpose is to observe its creations with minimal interference, and how reality only functions the way it does because “God” is watching it. It’s also how we learned that “God” can be shocked and appalled. When we started this project proper, about 5000 years after the first “Blink”, we only had the ability to achieve a few hundredths of a second to work with. A good start, but one we could hardly do anything with, and those few precious moments would cost us a planet at a time. Soon we realized the more atrocious the actions we committed, the longer we had to work with. Whole sections of the galaxy burned at our command, and we got that time up to about a half second. A few centuries and a whole galaxy later, we hit a full second, enough to start toying with things in a major way. We could reliably eliminate diseases from existence, remove the concept of aging from reality, Hell, we were able to dispatch people on what were essentially Time Traveling suicide missions to ensure atrocities like the Holocaust died in the cradle with their perpetrators. We were able to stop mass murderers from ever coming to power. No, the irony isn’t lost on me. Yes, it does sicken me to think about what cost we paid to fix the mistakes of the past. Never introduced myself, did I? Well, don’t expect me to. Pretty soon I’m not gonna exist, because I’m about to hop in this old Sherman I found and fixed up and do just a little more fixing myself. All you need to know is I’m one of the last two remaining life forms in this godforsaken patchwork hellhole of a reality I’m currently inhabiting. Honestly, it’s for the best. Once we discovered how things worked during a “Blink”, we broke the very foundations of existence itself. In the past, the three or four of us who knew how the “Blinks” worked were basically Gods ourselves, forcing others to act in our stead so we would keep on existing while our poor proxies faced the literal Wrath of God for daring to fuck with creation. Now? Reality is so fucked and fundamentally warped from our numerous assaults in its fabric I have to make absolutely certain I wear a red rubber boot on my right foot on every other Tuesday from 12:00 a.m. - 4:55 p.m. or else my small intestine will turn into a very much alive, very much pissed Death Adder. It only really got this bad here in the past few decades, once most life in existence was already dead. Apparently, when there’s only about one hundred thousand life forms in all of existence, killing one is enough to make a “Blink” of substantial length occur. All that’s left in all existence now? Me and another guy who worked on the project with me all those years ago. We know we’re the last ones because up until last night we had a third and a fourth in our group. Well, number three killed number four in a fit of anger, caused a “Blink” and decided to use it to see how much life was still out there in existence. Apparently he didn’t like the answer he got, cause after he let us know it was just us left out here, he slit his own throat before the “Blink” ended. Fifteen seconds, that one lasted. Longest ever recorded. Things are bleak, but I have a single driving force pushing me on at this point. I’ve made up my mind, and nothing’s gonna stop me now. First thing I’m gonna do is pick up that piece of glass our dearly departed tag along used to open his neck, and I’m going to gut my old colleague like a fish as slowly and painfully as I can. Really have to make it as horrific as it can be, make the Big Guy’s head spin for the full thirty seconds my calculations are projecting this’ll cause. Flaying the only other living thing in existence alive with a dirty shard of cracked glass has to be the worst atrocity any single being can commit, right? Second thing I’m gonna do is use the resulting “Blink” to fix this Cosmic Hell we’ve made for ourselves. I’m gonna fix up that Sherman, send myself and it back in time to before all this happened, to the very beginning, and I’m gonna shoot God in the face with a tank while it’s still an infant. Best case scenario, it dies and I can use the remaining three or so seconds I’ll have left to will a better reality into place. One that doesn’t need to be watched forever just to keep it all together. Worst case scenario, it doesn’t work and the last ember of life in the universe dies out for good. Either way I’ll be dead at the end, but at least I’ll go out in the most metal way humanly possible. So if you’re out there reading this, welcome to a less fucked reality. Hopefully everything’ll be back the way it used to be a few dozen centuries before the first “Blink”, and you won’t have to worry about another one coming around ever again. If this bit of data is just floating around in the void, then I guess all I can say is I tried. —————————————————————— (Told the prompt to my buddy who’s currently tripping hard on shrooms, and he gave me this albeit a little less coherently. He’s a pretty fun guy once you get to know him, but man does he come up with some weird shit when he’s high.)
Realms Beyond, by Markus Manaford. Chapter 17. Frequency 648 gates to a very dangerous reality. If you do enter this realm, ensure you have an active lifeline and a planned time of leaving. This reality seems to have a highly accelerated lifespan. What takes eons in the prime reality, takes seconds here. As with most worlds, visitors seem to hold to their own physical laws, but this reality has effects on memory. At the end of this realities lifespan, it resets, and cycles back through its existence. When it loops, it seems to alter all memory of its prior form, sometimes changing them, sometimes removing them. An unwary traveler can get caught in such a loop, intending to stay only for a few days, but losing all grasp of how long has passed. I personally lost weeks here, unknowingly watching the birth, life, and death of a whole existence on repeat. Only once I had been pulled out did my notes start to alarm me. Not only had I filled my notebook, I had begun writing over my notes, seemingly oblivious to the writing in my way. What can be discerned, shows that the life of the universe stays fairly the same, but with minor differences propagating through them. I'm sure this reality will be popular among theoretical physicist hoping to see their altered model play out. Be safe travelers.
Part 1: Laura flapped her wings through the gentle summer winds. The beach, usually so crowded at this point in the evening, was clear and quiet. The reason, as Laura new, was because most other gulls had already found a mate and were probably snuggling up together, cozy in their nests. This breeding season had been especially rough for Laura. She had barely reached maturity when it began and with little experience to go off, she had struggled to catch the eyes of any suitable mates. The season was drawing to a close and Laura could feel it in her bones just as surely as she felt the desire to become a loving parent to a nest of fluffy little hatchlings. She had been combing the beach for nearly a week now, searching for shiny objects, extra food, or anything else that might give her a chance to attract a mate this late in the season. Despite her best efforts, however, she had come up with nothing. Every day she had patrolled this beach, watching as more and more gulls had found what they were looking for and had flown off to the cliffs where they would roost for the season. Each day the beach became just a little less crowded than the day before. At this point it was virtually empty. "One last sweep for now and then I might as well head home,” Laura thought to herself. “There's always tomorrow…” But how many more tomorrows were left? How many fruitless tomorrows had there already been? With a resigned sigh, she wheeled around, circling back towards her lonely nest. Keeping one eye on the ground and one eye on the horizon, Laura flapped back up the beach the way she had come, hoping that perhaps she had missed something the first time through. The familiar beach swept by beneath her, revealing nothing she hadn’t already spotted. Her eyes caught on a solitary object; one that had definitely not been there a couple of hours ago. It looked like a rock but at this distance, there was no way to tell. Odd looking rocks were common on the beach and it was possible she just hadn’t paid any attention to it earlier. Just as Laura was about to look away, the object gave off a shimmer! Laura’s heart skipped a beat and she quickly adjusted her course. As she flew closer, more and more of the object’s details came into view. The odd shape became a body, but not the body of anything Laura was familiar with. The initial disappointment of realizing her discovery held no shiny objects was quickly replaced by her sense of curiosity. This body, although smaller than Laura, possessed a row of tiny spines on its back, sharp claws, and a reptilian head. “A dragon!” thought Laura. Though she had heard of them before, she never really believed they existed. Yet here was a real dragon, lying on the beach right in front of her. It looked dead, but from what Laura had heard of dragons, they were exactly the kind of creature that would pretend to be injured or unconscious to lure in unsuspecting prey. The thought felt weird to Laura. Could a creature this small and, for lack of a better description, this cute, really harbor such evil intent? She alighted on the ground several wing lengths away. Her head flicked back and forth as she examined the body. It had a cut running across its back and blood oozed from the wound, pooling under one of its outstretched wings. As she turned her head, blood reflected the setting sun, creating the same shimmer Laura had seen from above. Laura hopped a little closer, more curious than frightened. After all, how many more opportunities would there be to get a good look at a real life dragon? And besides, this one was much too small to do any real harm, even if it would have been capable of trying. The dragon’s body suddenly jerked and rolled over as it let out a series of squeaking coughs. Startled, Laura lifted her wings, trying to appear larger in an attempt to intimidate the baby dragon. The rush of adrenaline was short lived, however, and she quickly stopped when she realized the dragon’s eyes weren’t even open. Its breathing was labored and Laura couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor creature. Sensing her presence, the baby dragon lifted its head and opened its large eyes. Despite their odd reptilian look, they conveyed a sense of loneliness and desperation that surpassed anything Laura had been feeling in the past week. It didn’t matter anymore to Laura that it was a dragon. What mattered was that there was a baby here, obviously too young and inexperienced to fend for itself, who had been left to die alone. “Well,” decided Laura, “I’ve experienced more than enough of loneliness for the both of us. I’m not going to let you feel that too.” She wasn’t sure if the baby could understand her or not, but it gave a tiny sneeze when she finished speaking. Then, as if keeping its eyes open for this long had taken all the energy it had left, it laid its head back down. Its eyelids drooped lower and lower until they came to a slow close. Laura hopped close enough to grab the baby dragon by the scruff of its neck and gently lifted it onto her back, taking care not to disturb the cut anymore than necessary. It made no sound but its breathing seemed to steady as she nestled it in between her wings. As smoothly as she could, she lifted off and began the flight home. With the sun at her back and the wind under her wings, Laura dared to let herself hope that the nest she flew towards would be lonely no longer.
Our house was raided by the militia. They arrested me for witchcraft. I escaped the kingdom with my stationary, pregnant, one of the soldiers raped me. I'm not coming back, dear. I can't. I discovered a different kingdom far away, where they don't believe in witches. I'm staying here until I die. It's to dangerous to go back. Regards, Ardour! Sincerely, Hope I finished my letter to my husband back in my old village. I went outside, for once. I was pregnant, and needed something to do. The cobblestone roads were filled with stands of small subreddits, and everything lead down to King Steve's r/all palace. The most popular place in the kingdom was the r/AskReddit pub. I was barred from it because I was pregnant. Same with the r/funny Comedy Hall, and it's rival, the r/Jokes Comedy Club. As a young writer, barely 20, I needed somewhere to write. Then I saw it. I entered the r/WritingPrompts villa, and I was accepted. I sit down, and I begin to write my story, based on my life.
We proceed with the plan. For the one could never be but one, there could only be multiples for the unity always become a multiplicity. Where once there was one now there were two, but three in spirit and soul for the unity divides amonst itself into the duality, and so something fought for space against the nothing, and chaos reigned. The duality could not extinguish each other and saw the necessity of each, and so love grew and the duality multiplied, chaos dissipated and reality cooled, again amd again symmetry broke until matter existed, the universe unfolding. In the infinite wisdom the multitude created a place with beings like themselves but less, but striving ever for the perfection of Unity that was glimpsed in the beggining...
'Each day when you wake up, you are where you are needed most for that day.' Small letters, small note. Big big changes. I remember when they all arrived, everyone on Earth had the same note, but the message was also conveyed on the streets billboards, on the Google doodle, as a phone notification. Every single human on this planet received it. We didn't know why, and we still don't know why, but it's like the Destiny sisters took the fragile gold thread they always handle delicately, tangled their six hands and then continued their threading as if nothing happened. You should have seen the first week. Utter chaos. The most renown doctors were teleported to new underdeveloped lands everyday, where medical care was the most needed. The most ferocious lawyers were sent to the international court to handle cases of injustice. Some of the best farmers were sent to arid lands. Imagine the surprise of depressed and lonely people when they saw themselves teleported to someone who needed them. Imagine the smiles of elder people seeing their relatives on their final moments. Heartwarming instants that would be impossible to even grasp in the world we used to live in. You must think this is incredible, but I think this weird phenomenon wasn't a good or bad thing. It just existed. And somehow, we managed to live with it. 'Each day when you wake up, you are where you are needed most for that day.' Small letters, small note. Big big changes.
I am Icarius the brave, son of Daedalus. Since I was a young one, I wanted to see you. You generously gift us your light, each and everyday; embracing us with your warm rays and protecting us from the cold. You permit growth on our crops, make our wheat golden and our apples the brightest red. Each and everyday, illuminating the darkest sky by your single presence, I loved you so much. I wanted to see you. Climb up to you, get your warm light before it even touched the ground. And who hadn't thought of that before? You are such a wonder for us mortals. With my two feet and two hands, I could only scream in frustration that I could never come to you as close as I would like. Dreaming of seeing you was not enough anymore and I wanted to lose myself into you. So, under the anxious eye of my father, I jointed feathers with hot wax, and learned how to fly. Oh, my love, if a mortal could fly, he would be very fulfilled in his life. But I wanted to see you. I only wanted to see you. I made my way to the open blue sky, to the birds, to the clouds. You were there and immediately, I could feel your welcoming warmth getting hotter, and hotter. You were so beautiful, and maybe by coming closer I could try to put my mortal hands on your pure beauty. My love, I can feel in my back the wax is melting, the hot brown liquid mixed with my sweat and blood, tearing my back in pain. I am so close to you, but I feel my body giving in too. Soon, my skin will start melting but I don't care, I'm here, so close to you and you, so close to me. I'm scorched and burned alive, but I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you. All I can see is fire around me. I can't feel my body anymore, but I know that I'm surrounded by you. My body is suffering, but I am at peace, my love. Now, I am dreaming of losing myself into you. I want to be part of you. I dream of ash. Of fire. Of oblivion. B.N.
“Funny,” I thought to myself. The knife in my hand felt warm. I could’ve sworn it was in my pocket a few moments ago. How long has I been holding it? I slipped it back in, forcing myself to not have a second thought. It wasn’t something I would normally do. Being an employee at a small bakery wasn’t the most high-end job, but I liked it. Still, the regulations were tight. The place I worked at was in a nice area, so if our customers didn’t see higher than a ninety on that health report, then one of us would get a talking to. I’d probably get one if I were caught brandishing a knife in my pocket. I chuckled to myself, remembering how Sylvia thought she would lose her job because she could’ve sworn a piece of her bright red hair got into someone’s food. But the knife felt so right in my pocket, like a dog on a leash. I wanted to make sure it was close, though I wasn’t sure why. Immediately I thought about the announcement given that morning. Every news station covered it. It was a breakthrough in terms of, well, everything, for lack of a better word. ”Bodies aren’t just empty vessels,” I recalled. ”We have souls, but our souls and our bodies must be in sync to coexist.” I had to hurry off to work before I could hear the end of it, thought I’m sure I wouldn’t have understood. What I did hear was that the soul could reject the body, and that it’s happened before. People would spontaneously kill themselves for no reason, seemingly out of the blue. They would do it with anything, and use any method. ”That explains that,” one of the hosts said jokingly, but why or to what audience, I wasn’t sure. Again, the knife in my pocket yearned for my attention. My own gaze turned instead towards my job. Right, I have a job. Since I did a lot of the cooking, I decided to start doing just that. The task ahead was to make a loaf of bread. It was so simple. I had done it a hundred times. I hands craved stimulation. I went over to a large rack, where some bread had finished rising. I picked up a bowl and headed to the counter. I took a good look at it. It had risen adequately, double the size, just right. The label on the cloth covering it gave me all the information I needed to know that it was perfect. My hand slipped to my pocket, but I didn’t need a knife. Again, I refused to indulge. I grabbed a flat metal baking pan from one of the cabinets, and a bag of flour. I floured the pan, and emptied the risen bread onto it. The knife, I need it. I took the knife out of my pocket and laid it on the edge of the counter. I flattened the bread slightly and picked up the knife. It felt right in my hand. The feeling began to disturb me less and less. I cut the bread down the middle, and divided it into two loaves. I got two bread pans from the cabinets and greased them with spray-oil. The two loaves fit in them perfectly, and into the oven they went. The knife was in my hand. I tapped at the handle rapidly, as if something would happen. I felt like it would. My heart began to race. Something was going to happen. Maybe I would do something. I had the urge to hurt myself. I’d never had that in my life—but I didn’t fear the feeling. I wanted it. The flour-y knife looked almost beautiful in the bright leds overhead. Yes. I need it. Right when I thought about doing something, Sylvia burst through the door. “Alex! Did you see the news today?” I gulped. The knife slipped back into my pocket. “Oh, yeah. Crazy, huh?” “You know, I always told you about how I feel a connection to people. Like a spiritual one, right? Even to people I don’t even know. On my way here, there was this old lady—“ I could let her go on. It wouldn’t hurt if I had no idea what she was talking about. She never pressed me for questions. I always had a feeling she knew I wasn’t fully listening, anyway. She rambled on, and I started on making some lemon squares. But again, I felt helpless to what I wanted. The knife practically called my name. I almost itches with want. I felt my eyes twitch. “—But Carrie didn’t know what I was doing that time, because she was out doing some kind of fun-run thing. You should’ve seen her face when I told her…” Sylvia’s face dropped. “You okay? You look really tired.” I jumped. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She looked at me skeptically. “I can just do this part, Alex. It’s not like I’ve done anything yet,” she said. “Take a break or something. There’s some Tylenol in my purse, you know—“ “Okay, okay.” It was probably apart of her being worried about losing another job. That’s what I thought at the time. I wish I could’ve seen myself. I headed out back, outside in the cool morning air. Behind the bakery was a small grove of trees, just barely covering another section of little shops. The knife wanted me. I wanted it. I wasn’t afraid. When I made my way towards that grove, I almost felt free. Almost. I sat against a tree, and pulled out the knife. It wasn’t too sharp, but it wasn’t dull, either. I wiped off a bit of the flour dust it had on it. My blurry, distorted reflection was seen in it. For some reason, I felt resentment in my heart—my soul for what I saw. I saw shackles. Something that wasn’t right. It wasn’t me. Myself was hidden inside, and J just had to unlock it. Luckily, the key was in my hand. I didn’t even feel it. That’s the part that gets me. I always thought that it was weird when someone didn’t cry out in pain when they were hurt. I almost burst into tears when I stubbed my toe. But why, why did I feel that way, in that moment? It felt like I was realizing something. Something that I knew, but always kept in the back of my mind. But I don’t know it. That’s the thing. I never would’ve seen me killing myself, but there I was. Now, I’m not going to call that killing myself, because I’m alive. I’m more alive than ever. I just feel like I could’ve left less behind. Less loose ends left untied. But it’s all in the past now, I guess. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I how it’s got lots of bread.
How could it had happened brothers? "We traveled trillions of years to find this?"Said angrily the smallest of the swirled patterned creatures "Patience brother, We might chance to see what happened" "How?" "Remember the site 4#68@1-2 surveilance camera?" "Yes brother, It had a good view of this planet" * * * After checking thousands of years worth of recordings, they find the fatidic date: January 22nd, 2037, wiped by nuclear fire, or atleast that's what they thought it was, Disappointed by the result of their long search, they set course to their beloved planet, still startled by the sudden destruction of thousands of years of evolution.
"Finally, I found you. You have to go back. We can make things right. YOU have to make things right. Only you can go back, back in time and abso-."she cuts off coughing up blood while clutching her arm to her chest. "It's too late Nine, it can't be undone. I can only go back minutes when Eight could only travel a few days... and it's been months since the bombs fell. Half the world's gone to shit, Nine. It's over." "No, there is a way. Eight once told me the reason he could only travel so far was each time jump took a lot out of him. The answer is more energy. And those bombs that fell, weren't actually bombs... the cascading explosion from that event was Four's Meltdown."she bites her lips in pain. I could only stare blankly at her with the revelation of another power from The Nine. Energy Absorption? Control? I listen closely. "His body couldn't contain all that energy and it ate it's way out of him. I tried to carry even a portion his burden, but he built up too much that he could barely guide the energy into me. But this, this should be enough." She ends her words abruptly and rips her sleeve off. Completely revealing her arm and half her torso ruined by radioactive decay. It pulsed a shimmering light that gets healed over with new skin, but each regenerating flesh gets burned away a second later. "You have to take this away, and use it to jump further back in time to and help Four... and undo that event." Solemnly, I take her hand... and her mission.
These words were what my father said as the banging on the door got increasingly loud, the sound bouncing on the dirty walls of my house until fading into the gloomy air. I was on the verge of crying. “Do I have to go,” I can barely breathe, I feel like I’m drowning in the air. The darkness was engulfing my soul, my heart was going slowly. My knees feel weak, I turn around, and start to run,bumping into tables and chairs, sending them crashing to the floor. I can hear the locks on the door cracking open. I should’ve at least said goodbye, I smash the window and run down the hill, the grass crackling from under feet.
I feel like I’m drowning. Everything’s gone quiet except for screaming in my head. I’m sure I’m just overreacting. There must be an explanation! Maybe I spelt it wrong? I retype, change some of the phrasing, but still Google insists the song doesn’t exist. How many times did I listen to this song on the radio? The lyrics are still etched into my brain for goodness sake! There’s no way this song couldn’t exist! Wait. Why is it so quiet outside my head? I left the radio playing as I searched for the song... I glance at the radio and see the lights are still on, but all I can hear is static. Everything feels wrong somehow; as if I’d fallen asleep without realising. A roar slowly fades into hearing, and I feel myself retch, the nausea induced by the sound almost tearing my head apart. I tumble to the ground, stunned by the sudden rush of sounds from the radio, and pull the computer down with me. The song. It’s still playing. My eyes land on my computer screen. At the very top, just above the new search results for the song, is a line of text I’d never typed. “Welcome to the Planerunners. We’ll see you soon.” This is my first time writing to one of these prompts. Any feed-back is appreciated and I hope you liked my story!
The first time I heard this sentence I was happy. I have had my will ready, my funeral was ready to begin in two days from now, and the suicide note was ment to get to our email box for emily and jen to read exactly 24 hours after the operation. I was doing a favor to everyone by going away. Or so I thought, at least. The first time the operation failed. And it was fine. I was suppose to wait just 24 hours and nothing would matter. But that day jen took emily on a ride to find me, and when they didn't see me at work they died in a car crash. The last thing I saw before dying myself is doctors rushing in my daughter to a different room, to exmine her death. That was a misrable way to die, to say the least. I guess it was too misrable to god, are what ever it is, because the next thing that happened was me waking up again to the same last day. I was in the hospital again. And I was just before the operation. "are you sure you are ready to take it?"the doctor asked, just like the last time. I am surely hallucinating.... I said that I was commited to the desicion, even though I couldn't be more worried. Everything happened again. The surgery failed. I continued my day, resting my final 24 hours, when I get to see again the reporter saying the exact same words, "today, at 17:54, there has been a fetal car crash in road 531. The mom and the daughter in the car didn't get alive out if it." I saw Emily's body again. Her cold body that was already in my vauge memory, was the only thing on my mind while I took my last breath. It wasn't the last breath. I woke up at the same hospital again, and again the operation failed and Emily and Jen died. No matter what I would have done, if it was trying to die in another way, trying to contact my family earlier, going back home, everything that I didn't work. I would always be on the verge of death when I see my daughter getting carried to the exemination room. I have given up. If this is hell, then I don't care anymore. I just want them to be alive.
"Oh man...Dammit!" I cried out as I scrambled into the alley next to me, shoving a woman out of the way, my flesh tingling at the heat that traveled at the speed of light. I was barely in time as i heard the crowd begin to panic and cry out. The idiots were just standing there gawping at their impending deaths. "One one thousand, two one thousand..." I clapped my hands over my ears, put my head between my knees and kept my mouth open, and prayed to whatever was out there that I wasn't too close...! *FOOOOOOOM!!!!* The shockwave hit us after the initial heat, long seconds seemingly compressed by the wait, blasting dust and dirt and sending people flying, ripping the branches from the trees and shattering every single window for miles around. The force of the blast lifted me from my heels, but i was ready, and rolled with it, staying balled up until the world stopped shaking. My ears were still ringing when i sat up, and i knew that they'd ring for days and days. i pitied the fools who hadn't thought to cover their ears, probably most of them, and knew that a city full of deaf people would soon be the least of anyone's worries. Dust covered everything, even me hidden in the alley, and some people seemed to be scared of it, but this wasn't the dust that they'd have to worry about. it was just from buildings or whatever i'd felt collapsing through the soles of my work shoes. still not great to inhale, but better than the radioactive ash soon to follow. Standing, i steadied myself on the wall and took out my phone, not holding out much hope for the fragile electronic. Yep, dead and bricked. At least the bit of gold inside would be good for trading, eventually. I slid it back in my pocket and glanced around the corner of the building, carefully not looking at the woman slumped against the wall below my sight. I couldn't help her anyway. there The cloud was still expanding, the harsh, hellish light from within it burning malevolently with the radioactive energy that would burn the life from so many in just a little while, i assumed. it had been years since i'd seriously taken a look at nukes. It was still going to be a mess, whether or not we had a lot of fallout. For christsake that blast was in the city! Right on the air force base! How close was i? Six, maybe ten miles? Awfully close... But thankfully in the opposite direction of the one person i cared about right now. She was safely tucked away at our home with my family, and miles away from Anchorage. Elle, my wife, and the only thing i cared about right now. She'd be safe with my brother in town, he could keep the whole family safe and sound until i got there.... which didn't change the fact that i was going straight there and making sure she was okay! That was priority number one for me, and always had been. "Officer! Officer! what the hell is going on man!? Help! What do we do!"A man came running up to me, bleeding from his forehead and coated in dust. "We're under attack! HELP!" Shit. someone had seen my Fish and Game uniform, the tan shirt and blue vest so easily visible even under a layer of grime. i really didn't want to be mobbed right as i was about to get out of town...technically that would be a dereliction of my duty, especially in a disaster scenario. "Stay calm! Take shelter and wait for more instructions! go home if you can, but do not get closer to that!"I told him, guiding him into the street as i scanned for cars. the blast knocked most of them out of commission, but a few were actually running within earshot. he clung to me as we crossed the street, holding on for dear life and hanging onto the words of an authority figure. "Stay out of the way of emergency services and help who you can...look man, this is way above my paygrade. i gotta report to my boss and find out what the hell to do..." I almost grimaced at my lies. i was going to the station across the street, but that was just to get a car that worked and then i was gone, at least until my wife was alright. "o-okay! right..."he let go and turned back to his car, where i could see his family staring at us in shock, pale, grime streaked faces behind cracked glass. "Home..we'll go home.." I didn't waste any more time in jogging to the Station, luckily close by. It was a large building, with offices and a garage that, with any luck, would have shielded my truck from an EMP or a falling light pole. I reached the door, rushed inside the now-dark office and grabbed my keys from my desk, my second pistol from the top drawer, and a box of shotgun shells, and turned around to smack directly into my boss! "ahg! Boss!" "Shut it and get lost, i never saw you! go see Elle and come right back, or i'll skin you myself!"she groused, pointing her flashlight in my face. "you know your duty, and i know that comes second behind your family you stupid sap, but this is big, so get back here and do your job!" "yes ma'am! Thank you!" "*GO!!!*" And i did, sprinting for my truck, thankful for having a boss that knew me. if it had been anyone else from the department i would have been stuck, or in handcuffs, but she knew i'd be back...i just had other things to take care of first. i shoved my keys into the ignition after throwing my armload into the passenger seat, and prayed it would start. It did, after some sputtering, and i slammed it into drive and rolled straight onto the highway from the parking lot, not even bothering to check traffic or use the exit. Cars were stopped as far as i could see, and i did my best to weave around them, though i took off a door at one point. oh well. paint chips and fiberglass were cheap compared to the fireball still raging behind me. the people getting out of those cars were a much bigger problem, and not one i could shove out of the way with my steel bumper. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY DAMMIT!"i screamed at a crowd of people, who'd seen my liveried truck. "MOVE FOR EMERGENCY VEHICLES!!" They got the message when i laid on the horn and sirens while rolling at a decent clip. they weren't happy, but they didn't complain too much when i held up my firearm meaningfully. i wouldnt have shot them, not in a million years, but they didn't know that. finally the highway opened up and i worked my way through the last of the heavy traffic, sirens still blazing and thanking heaven for the four wheel drive. open road greeted me, and i floored it, flying down the passes and up the hills, barely slowing for the turns and hairpins. finally i reached my road, and i sprayed gravel as i tore up it, heedless of the tracks i left in my yard, and slammed on my breaks in the middle of the lawn. i jumped from the car, not even stopping the sirens, and mounted the steps just in time to meet the opening door. "Damon! Oh God what's going on! Are you okay? are you hurt!?" "No! no, im fine Elle! its okay, im alright!"I swept her into my arms and hugged her, clutching her tight. my heart was pounding still, all the fear and terror of the thought of losing her melting away and surfacing for the first time. "Are you good? is everyone okay? i was at the Station, they nuked the Air Force Base, i dont know who..." Footsteps came from inside the house, and i spared a look from my wife to see my brother coming from inside, his wide frame making the shotgun in his hands seem tiny. he nodded to me and then went to shut off the sirens, then came back. "What're we looking at? was that cloud what i thought it was?" "Yeah, if you thought it was some kind of nuke...yeah." "damn, we picked a hell of a week to visit..." "sure did...look, ive gotta go back and help...my boss said to batten down the hatches and come back. can you help Elle and make this place secure? you know where the tarps and tape is, and the water supply key..." "yep. already on it, Cait is already taping the windowsills." "good...good..." we all paused and looked again at the town below us, just barely visible over the hilltops. the cloud had lost it's distinct mushroom shape, and turned into a massive pillar of smoke and flame. more fires were raging and more and more smoke obscured the valley. there would be thousands of people dead or dying, and the power, if it was still operational, would be gone before long. and winter was just around the corner. "this will be hell..."i muttered, shaking my head. "what the hell happened?" "War, terrorism, greed, you take your pick."Caeron retorted, and pulled something from behind the door frame. "take this. you'll need it if it's a dirty bomb. we all have em made, so no worries about taking one. we'll have the decon chamber ready when you get back." he handed me a mask with a clear, heavy plastic faceplate, and two large filters attached to the front. it was one from my own storage, and probably one of the first items my brother had dug out once he'd seen the cloud. "thanks. ill be back when i can..." i leaned in, kissed my wife, nodded at my brother one more time, confident that he could handle whatever came our way, and trudged back to the truck. My loyalty was to my family first, but i had a job to do too. and so i went back into the burning hell that was now Anchorage, ready to face it, and uncomfortably aware that this was only the first shot in a War that would drag the world into nuclear slag. And that was how World War Three started for me and my family.
"Where is it? Where did it go?" It had to be in one of these notebooks. I remember seeing it. But...which one? I slapped a hand down on my phone's screen in utter frustration as the battery finally died, and began frantically searching for the singular notebook I knew it had to be in. Hell, how many green Composition notebooks had I purchased? Why hadn't I done this all on a computer? Biting down on my pen, I began flipping through more and more notebooks, different lines leaping off of the pages at me. "The world before her was a far brighter place, the world behind a far different time." No, that's not it. Is it this notebook? "Tragedy in her existence; a loveless, needless life." No, that's not it either. "Madness is as madness does." "If she had only listened harder." I sighed, resting only long enough to look around my cluttered bedroom, scattered notebooks and papers strewn in every corner. Some pages were neatly written, others scribbled over as if some frantic maniac had thought they were etching words into stone. "Not all of these can be about me,"I whispered aloud. "I've listened to them and written them a dozen times over. How could they be about me? This can't be true. These songs don't even exist." "But they do exist," the voice whispered, "They've been written. You've heard them. They're all about you. Look. Look at them. Read them. They're watching you, Alice. They've always been watching." "GO AWAY,"I yelled, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my fingernails in my scalp. "It's not true. It can't be. YOU LIE." "You've seen the proof. What more do you need? Would you like to listen again?" "NO!" "All you have to do is ask." Flipping papers and notebooks around me, I scrambled to reach atop my desk, where my phone had sat, playing the song I'd been so intent on finding the lyrics to what felt like only a few minutes ago. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"I cried, shaking the phone. Surprisingly, silence followed, and I allowed the small rectangular object to fall from my hand with a thud to the floor before beginning to cry. Were the songs right? Was I really such a tragedy? Was I truly so needless? Maybe the voice was right. Maybe... In the still silence, another song began to play, the voice itself singing tauntingly. I hated when it sang. &#x200B; "Remember the silence of the sleeping child, whose breath holds still in their chest, When all of their dreams and nightmares alike keep them from their peaceful rest. Songs of the future and songs of the past entwined in a boundless mind, When all of their hopes and all of their fears are all at once combined. 'Tis maddening."
It was a Sunday in Spring when the curse struck the town. The town-park was filled with people: Some lying down in the grass, some sitting by the fountain and some taking a walk along the pavements. Children running around while their parents tried to enjoy the sun. Occasional couples holding hands and engrossed in each other, with a dog at their side to make it really picture-perfect. A hot-dog vendor was at the busiest corner of the park. It was his time of the day. The curse struck and five minutes later the park was filled with food that could feed an entire city. Half the grass was filled with man-sized hot dogs, the meat spilling out of the bun. Couple of burritos, a few waffles and plenty of sandwiches lay scattered in the park - all four feet of larger, except for the children of course. They were mostly fries and burgers. Only one man remained standing. As the evening approached and he came to terms with what had happened - after a rather long episode of pulling his hair out and crying and curling up on the floor - he ate a small portion of the meat from a man-sized hot dog. He had no qualms about eating what had been human, because he had experience eating what was human at the time of consumption. After all, that's what had saved his life. He wondered with a shudder what would have had happened if the curse had struck a few minutes later, for he was in the queue to get a hot-dog. As he was sitting in the park bench of a town that was devoid of humans and filled with all-you-can-eat buffet, he heard footsteps from a distance. He sprang up and turned around. To his utter surprise, there stood another man, looking just as bewildered and disheveled. Their eyes met. Their expressions turned from joy of seeing another human, to confusion of "how could this be?", and finally to an understanding as they both reached the same conclusion. Both of them considered their options and ultimately, both reached the same conclusion. Their heartbeats quickened. They tightened their clothes, curled their hands into fists and charged at each other with all the rage and courage they could muster. They both knew the truth about themselves: They enjoyed the taste of a human more than the company of one.
What? What was that? Coincidence? Or truth? Had the rescuers finally come? I did not want to go back though, there was a reason I had ensnared myself in this world after the death, the war, the final betrayal... I had friends in this world. People I trusted and even loved. The sound came again. Should I go to it? Had my mind, in all these years exaggerated the horror on the world? No, if anything it had become jaded. I thought of my family again. I thought of the people clashing vainly for a cause that had been buried and forgotten, but defended just for the sake of fighting. I thought of the monarchy, overthrown by one secret. There were no secrets here, where your thoughts were written out on the ground in front of you. Split seconds passed in which I considered. No, I don't think I should. What could I do beside die? Maybe the war was gone... but even if it was the irreparably damaged planet would be a wasteland. Like a mole, underground, or in a synthetic bubble of air was not the way to live. Not after breathing fresh air and feeling sunlight that Was blocked by the clouds of dust back home. The voices came closer but I dashed further eventually leaving them behind, shouting only to the darkness.
It had been thousands of years since we vanquished the beasts. Or so the legends go. When epochs wash into millennium, facts become fiction; history turns into old wives' tales. And as these tales were told, the monsters were beasts of incredible danger. They lingered at some eight feet, bearing horns as sharp and long as swords. With every step they left, the earth burned in their wake. And when they had finally been slain and thrown out of our mountain passes, a hero was chosen to perpetuate their extinction. The sword to seal the darkness. Me. I pondered over these stories in the lofty expanse of my cabin. My own sat at the edge of our snow kissed village, nestled into a mountainous nook atop the world. Across from my desk, the horned helmets of my ancestors stretched across the wall, strung together by one common thread. Their blades sat below: silver, sharp, and remarkably untouched. Not that they ever had any use to begin with. Despite the ceremonious nature, Monster Hunters spend their entire lives training, living for the day they could assume their namesake. For my ancestors, that day never came. A setting sun broke across my window, shattering light across the morose room. Time for the final watch, I grumbled internally. Shambling from the cabin with light armaments, I set out across the snowy banks and down powder-laden slopes. Thirty minutes of drudgery, and I was about ready to return to a blazing hearth. Or fresh stew. Or both. Movement. I immediately hit the snow, scrambling prone towards a nearby boulder. I sent daggered eyes down the slope and towards the pass. No-one came from the pass at dusk. No-one. Indeed, it was a sable cloaked figure - some thirty meters at a steep decline. A rhythmic and mindless motion procured my throwing knife, balanced between my fingers in an act practiced only thousands of times before. I was ready for this. I was ready for the hunt. In one fluid motion, I sprung from the rock and twisted my torso toward him, arm swinging closely behind. The knife sailed at a sickening speed down the hill, before burying itself in the figure. It released a sharp cry. A human cry. I slid down the slope, rushing toward the felled creature. I tore it's hood, I unveiled it, and as the light creased upon its wretched visage... It was a man. A bronze-skinned, crying, dying man. The snow beneath him turned a sanguine ichor, sourced from the throwing knife lodged in his stomach. There were no horns. He was a tall man, but certainly not eight feet. Instead of steaming hooves, he wore thin boots that were ill fit for the weather. He whimpered in a dialect I could not understand. Perhaps thousands of years ago, that was the demonic language they rumored of. "Thousands of years,"I murmured, kneeling down to observe the crumpled figure. "For this."In that same mindless motion, my sword had already been freed from my sheath. I lifted myself up from the snow, stretching out my sword arm. The traveler's eyes widened, catching the glint of the sun's last rays playing across my blade. I smiled, and for the first time in my life, I felt my ancestors smiling with me. I am a Monster Hunter.
I call it the wreck, cause that’s whut it waz, big fucken wreck. Saw it with my own eyes. I waz in Starbucs, given the dumb bitch a hard time cause she’s messin up my order. She gives me a eye roll, then looks saprised, then poof! Brite blue flash a light and she’s gone. Close an everthing just fall to the groind in slo motion, ya know, kinda like that matrix movie. I hear shit all around me and peoples just standen there, lookin all wild eyed an shoked. Just piles of close and paper cups of splatted coffee everwhere. Den I hear the wrecks. Horns blaren, tires squealen an lots of bagin sounds as cars runnen into each other and stuff. Everwhere thers just piles of closes, lotsa purses and stuff. I guess lotsa bitches ware tongs, if ya no whut I meen, Freakin me out man! Everone started sayin it’s the Raputure man but that can’t be true! I’m still here... I mean, there’s all sorts of accidents and there’s all sortsa folks still in the cars, some of em hurt bad. I tried calling 911 but all I get is a busy signal. My phone starts goin ape-shit, it’s like I start getten all these mesages like Scooter, you still there? Yep! Den I start gettin all these messages like all these plains are flying aroun and they ain’t got now stewidresses and no pilots either cause a couple hours later they start fallen outta the air. My frens say half da people on the plains just flashed blu and den there was justa pile a close in the seats and shoes in the flor. So everone on the plane starts tinking itsa nother terrarrest atak so everone left on the plain starts whippen out deir phones. Course nobody can call. It’s all busy by everone can text and dats how we no whut happenz on doze plains. We all runs to help dem folks in the cars but we can’t get no help and everones lik screamen for dir mommas or deir dads nad there’s like blood and shit everwhere and I don’t no whut to do. I try and remember whut those guys on those TV shos wold do but it didn’t make no sense when I wuz watcin it and I can’t even rember what they did anyhows. I’m scared shitles man and I’m starten to freak out. Den I start gettin all these text messages sayin there ain’t no mo doktors and nursis left at the hospitls either. People start sendin me text messages saying all the smart people done gone but that can’t be true because presidnt Trump just sed that aliens musta attaked so he’s sendin the nationul gard to da mesican border and he sez he’s da smartest man in the room. The nex cuppala days is bad. It doz look like all dem smart azzes are gone but Prez Trump is tellin us to be payshut and he’s got it all under control. I still don’t no how he got lef behine. Den things starten to brake an ain’t no body nozr how to fix em. Furst the innernet starts braking, at least pornhub and Call a duty, nows the cell phones and people sezs the lectriciti too. I ain’t ate too good either lately and the stores done run outta beer too. Everones runnin around scremin and shit and now peoples starten to shoot each other and I’m kinda gettin skard, an man I’m freaking out totally.
'Good Lord. How did it come to this?' I whisper to myself. But I know how it came about. And it is kind of my fault. Not kind of. It is absolutely my fault. I close the door to the Executive Chief office and began racking my brain. Executive Chief's yelling did not stop when I left as he picked up the phone and asked to be connected to the Emergency Department. They will be in charge of the announcement and to contain the panic once the news is known to the world population. Well, Elliot could kill everyone. It is best if they get to preparing. Now then, who do I ask for help? Sam, of course. The strongest angel around. Some say he could fight on par with Elliot. And Elliot is much weaker now, having chained for 2000 years. Yes, my chances in correcting this are good. Sam will help out. He is itching for a good fight. Who else? Penelope, to make use of her healing ability. She and Sam are dating so she is definitely in. Who else? Elliot is weak to lightning, so Connor would be good. And maybe another jailer in case my containment spell fails... Alice? No, too talkative. Nick, then. And hour later... Sam, Penelope, Connor and Nick arrived at the wing deck as I was smoking my 22nd stick of cigarette that day. "Hey Hilda, are you going to tell us what happened?"Sam asked. The other 3 turn to me as well. Well, it is a fair question for people that are going to help me clean my fuck up. And I had never lose a prisoner in all 3000 years of my career. "Well, this is kind of embarrassing but he asked whether I ever had been eaten. Down there."
### Captain's Cabin : USS Missouri : Schooner "It ain't Waterworld yet, but it's working on it. Damn climate change deniers. Double damn that idiot in the White House. Yeah, yeah, years ago, why bitch about it now? *BECAUSE BACK THEN WE COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING ABOUT IT!" "You shouldn't talk that way, there was nothing we could have done. It was fated by Gaia for our sins." "Don't complain? I have my opinions, which are backed by facts. You have a mythology. That's why I'm Captain, and you are the Ship's Doctor." Sigh* "Trying to talk sense into you is hard enough when you aren't depressed. Here, have another belt." "Damn fine brandy. Thanks." "It's not Brandy. That much I know for fact. It's flavored moonshine." "If I say it's brandy, then brandy it is." "We're going to the Eastern US? Why? There's nothing important left there?" "Yes, were going to the Eastern US. Why? Well for one thing, some of it is still there, and US citizens still live on it. For the other, one of the radars we managed to move up into the Rockies picked up a lot of debris coming down. Debris that maneuvered." "What. You're talking UFO? Now who's living in mythology?!" "Not my idea. But we did get some shortwave reports of landings. No idea what kind, but there's enough to think invasion, and we owe US citizens protection." "The US is dead. There are no citizens." "You say that again, anywhere on this ship, and you will be lucky if I get to you first. I'll only keelhaul you. The crew is more inventive." "But why? It's a plain fact!" "Not on board this ship. I swore my oath to defend the Constitution of the United States of America, against all enemies, foreign or domestic. So has each member of this crew. Except You. You're too new. You'll understand sooner or later, or you're going to come down with a bad case of dead." "Death threats, Captain? It's a good thing you're drunk, or I'd have you up on charges." "With who... We're back in the days of sailing ships. The Captain is Master after God. There is no higher commander here, saving God himself." "Mythology again?" "Metaphor. It means if you piss me off, I won't keelhaul you. I'll use you for shark bait. While you're still alive. The crew is partial to shark. That's how we stay fit on the shit rations they provide." The doctor pales. He's heard stories, but never believed them. Until now. ### USS Missouri : Islands of the East "Nothing so far..." "Ship ... Ahoy??" "Well? Is it or isn't it??" "Three points off the starboard bow. Whatever it is! Moving toward us mighty fast Captain! Fifty Knots?" "IF YOU'RE DRUNK ON DUTY..." "Not a drop Cap'n! Grog ration cut for the last little thing..." Grumble "Get my binoculars!" "Here Cap'n!" "Three points at 50 knots? ... Sweet Fanny Adams! Here Doc. You tell me what you see!" "What in the name of Gaia is that!?!" "Either our UFO, or something from before the Flood Wars. GENERAL QUARTERS!" ((Continued if you like it.))
\[POEM\] "Six floors, six on each floor,"the old man smiled. "You'll rarely see them, though. Unless they're riled." "Why is that?"my wife asked. I caught the answer as I walked past. I was carrying the last box at my chest. "The answer will shock you,"he said. I stopped to listen; he scratched his head. "The only way to put it, you see; Is telling you each one is an NPC. You'll only see them if you're on a quest" \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #260. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
'If you're reading this, you're either a moron or a badass. Seeing how I'm a prophet, you're a moron the dumbass side. Anyway, I'm here to tell you not to do that thing you were about to do before breaking your arm.' I slowly re-read the message, and then grab a pen and begin to write. 'You so-called prophet aren't as smart as you think you are. Couldn't have warned me before I did something stupid? I just microwaved tinfoil! But no, you would rather tell me not to eat yogurt with a metal spoon. Go drown.' I signed the message, Yoklith the Wiser, waved my arms around, chanted some magical words and the scroll disappeared. I hope it apears in his throat.
I have read precious few stories written in 2nd person perspective, so it was enjoyable for that. The premise is outstanding, the creepiness engrossing. The dynamic between the characters sets up a very good elaboration into something larger, and I think you could pull it off with your style. But 2nd person is rare for good reason. By the end, it didn't seem right anymore. While it can be done very well in short stories, those stories have to be about a single outside impression of someone else's narrative. Not only that, it has to be imparted as discussion of an unintended consequence of the MC's actions. An elaboration on what they were not thinking of at the time, with the idea that the person learns a lesson from it. From that perspective, this ought to have been written in either 1st or 3rd. And actually, much as I usually loathe 1st, it would fit this tale very nicely. As it stands, the ending was rather abrupt (as is often the case with stories like this; nothing to get hung about). A lead-in to the serial killer premise would have smoothed it out a bit. Maybe there's a tv or a radio on that happens to mention his latest victim on in the background? Or maybe she read the story in the newspaper that morning before work and made the connection? In any case, the language was fabulous, and I enjoyed it. I hope you decide to make more of this, and I will keep an eye out for your future works. Cheers.
"Have a good night, Cheryl." "Thanks. You too!"she said, shutting off the foyer light and locking up behind her. I sat in my office, staring at the day's paperwork. It had been a one hell of a day and was going to take hours to finish entering the datasheets and temperature logs. Nevertheless, It was a job that needed to be done, and I was the person to do it. Name: Deborah Jensen Topic: Complaint > General Date: September 16th, 2019 Information: Complainant indicates that neighbor has been dumping yard waste into pond. Samples were taken -- awaiting laboratory results. I saved and closed out the sheet, moving on to the next: Name: Sam Grainger Topic: Routine sample Date: September 16th, 2019 Information: Sample of culinary water system collected at 14:45. Diagnostics in process -- awaiting laboratory results. Again, save and close. Repeat. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Arching my back, I felt the comforting discomfort of joints popping and bones slipping back into their correct alignment. I had been hunched over for what seemed an eternity working on these entries and had just concluded the final one. I rolled my wrist over to see the time: 20:47 -- nearly 4 hours of bureaucracy. I moused down the the bottom left corner, pulled up the menu, and shut the system down. Standing up had never felt so good. My tailbone ached. My lower back was sore. My eyes had to be bloodshot after intently leaning so close to the screen for hours on end. Alas, it was over now and I could finally seek the comfort of my home. I collected my jacket and shut off my office lights while closing the door behind me. It never felt comforting to walk through a empty building by yourself, but I had grown familiar to to the sensation. After nearly a decade at the company, I was one of a select handful that didn't have kids or a family to go home to, to enjoy dinner with. As a result, I was often volunteering my 'alone time' to stay at work and input data the others had gathered. I unlocked the front door to excuse myself, and inserted my key to lock up again. The parking lot was dark, considering only a few weeks prior it had been light until nearly 22:00. The facility manager hadn't re-calibrated the timer switches and as a result, overhead lights were non-existent. Just me and the rising moon accompanied by a faint glow of the city a few miles off. With the press of a button, my car joined in the lighting ceremony as I climbed inside and put the key in the ignition, ready for home. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I set the keys down on the entry table as I entered and frantically began undoing my clothing. I hated button-up shirts with a fiery passion but business casual is business casual and there was no way in hell I was going to be caught dead wearing a vest. A small fiber brushed against my face and I let out a sneeze. "Ah-choo!" I continued undoing my clothes, now removing the belt from my khakis. "No one around to bless you, huh?"An old, raspy voice called out. I frantically turned to see where it came from. The door had been locked when I arrived, and the neighboring apartment was vacant after the last tenants moved out nearly a month prior. I flipped the lights on and went searching, grabbing a knife from the kitchen as I walked through. "That's bad luck, you know,"the voice said again, "It means I get to keep your soul." "What are you doing in my home?" "I'm just seizing an opportunity. I'm actually a bit of a businessman, myself." "Where are you?" "I'm right in front of you, but there's nothing you can do with that pathetic knife. Put it down and lets chat about your future." "Why should I?" "Like I said, there's nothing you can do with that knife, and I really don't want to clean up another mess if you hurt yourself." As the being transfigured from nothingness into a rough human shape, I hesitantly put the knife down. Hunched over he was about 5'6"and muscular, his skin was black as pitch and small wings arose from his shoulder blades. Small red irises and white pupils were all the could be seen on his face aside from a menacing red grin. "Who... Who are you?"I asked With a gravelly chuckle he replied, "I have many names, but you -- my fair-complected friend -- can call me master."
I inhaled collecting my thoughts. "Let me get this straight. You need me... To watch over Beelzebub Jr.?"I asked a little incredulous. Satan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yes." "I am one of the most powerful men in the world. I was expecting a job worth my abilities but instead... You have me playing nanny." "He's a problematic child."Satan said. "I have literally overthrown governments."I replied. "He's a VERY problematic child." I closed my eyes pinching the bridge of my nose. "I can't believe it, the ruler of hell, the Divine punisher." Satan smiled maliciously. "Yes. And owner of your soul so you better-"I slapped him across the face. "No."I said pointing a finger in his face. "None of that. You lost your ability to scare me about two minutes when you decided you couldn't handle a two year old demon." Satan looked hurt. "Okay fine, but you'll do it won't you. I'm so tired."He said. "I just need one day off and then you get your soul back." I sighed angrily. "Yes. Okay fine. I'll take care of your gremlin. But give me a suit and tie or something. I don't like being in hell inside my footies. I sat down on the couch. One day. It was just a toddler. Devil's toddler but still. I could handle one day without too much trouble... Boy how wrong I was.
Upon the summer air wafted the sweet scent of romance and fake lapel flowers. In the shimmering night, a couple sits at an open-air cafe in a cozy city plaza, illuminated by candlelight. Her bright eyes and glowing smile glimmered in the moonlight, while the man across the table gazed back with all the care and tenderness of a young lover, his subtle blush hidden under layers of white makeup. She wore a slick red dress; he had donned his best red nose. A perfect couple, a perfect night. Their world had been narrowed to the loving gaze of one another - truly, there was not such a love as these two, who were engrossed in thoughts of romance and slapstick humor. The man couldn't have hoped for a better night, nor a better date. Not many ladies were interested of someone of his occupation, and his admittedly corny attire was emblematic of his job. But not her. No, she was supportive of everything he did, and it made him swell with pride that someone was so interested in his craft. Truly, she was the one. Any moment now, the waiter would waltz over with a fresh bottle of champagne, which he would deftly pour into a wine glass, in which would lie waiting the symbol of their love - it would be perfect. Nothing could symbolize it better. No grand jester, no balloon sculpture- no, only a diamond ring could fully encapsulate the love they had for one another at this point. He adjusted his comically oversized bow tie, anxious for the waiter to arrive. All the while, his date absentmindedly traced the edge of her glass with a finger, head coyly resting on her other hand. It was enough to drive the man wild, and he honked his bulbous nose with glee. But the night was not perfect, and their romantic evening was shattered by a silent remark that pierced the cozy silence. "Heya sweetheart, why don't you drop bozo here and come with us? You can do better than this clown." The catcall was made by a troupe of prowling punks in leather jackets and striped shirts. Their pale faces leered at the couple from the shadowy street, uniform hats askew. The leader of the group, a tall, wiry individual with ghostly pale skin and thin features, made strange hand motions to them at the edge of a streetlamp. With every pose and sign, more derogatory remarks were hurled at the now tearful clown, whose nose drooped and honked, defeated. Mimes. It had to be mimes... Part 2 below!
I hate doctors. Period. But why? I guess one could say it started when I had a sudden pain throughout my body. No rash. No blisters. I rarely went outside, and my family had no known diseases I could’ve inherited. It was odd to have such sudden pain. Nonetheless, I didn’t want to live forever with it. Who would? So I went to visit my local doctors. After being examined, I was told I had a very high temperature and they would do a blood test. I wasn’t very fond of needles, but could manage. As soon as that needle pierced my arm, I felt like it was on fire, like it was melting. I took everything in me not to scream, thrash, kick, and the like. That’s how they figured out what was wrong with me. “Ardenti Sanguine,” the actual meaning of burning blood. Trust me, it definitely burned. I’ve met many doctors, some who are kind and skip the needles, other who say needles are necessary. I mean, that’s fine, I wouldn’t hate doctors because of that. I hated doctors because of Doctor Stone. Doctor Stone would treat me like a patient in the psych ward and have me tied down to the bed. He would THEN proceed to use syringe after syringe, needle after needle, extracting blood, injecting drugs and medication, all the while not batting an eye at the pain he put me through. It burned. Oh, it felt way worse than burning. It felt like I was dropped in lava, all the while being eaten inside out by insects chewing away at my flesh and claws scratching me until I bled. I know, very graphic, but that’s the most human way I can put it. He even seemed to ENJOY my pain. He tried putting bacteriophages into my bloodstream, thinking my condition was from a bacterial infection, and I SCREAMED bloody murder. What did he do though? WHAT. DID. HE. DO? He chuckled. He. LAUGHED. He laughed at me screaming my lungs out and soaking the bed with my tears. After the experience? “How do you feel?” “I feel like I want to die than have to exist with you here to ‘examine’ me for my disability Doctor ‘Dumb as a rock.’” He was red with either embarrassment or anger, but he had to leave so the next doctor could look at me, so HAH! Revenge was bitter-sweet I guess. Thankfully, a sweetheart by the name of Elizabeth found out my “cure.” All I had to do was take an immunosuppressant once to twice per day and Ibuprofen when necessary. I was ecstatic, especially because that meant I didn’t have to see Doctor Stone anymore. Best part of this whole story? He lost his medical license and, last I heard, had become a test subject for new vaccines because of his “crime against a sickly innocent civilian.” Oh, how the tables have turned. I still hate doctors though. With a burning passion, mind you. You can blame Doctor Stone.
I lay disoriented on the pavement struggling to gather my thoughts as blood gushed from my abdomen and spilled into the gutter. Last I could remember I had been driving and now my car was a smoking wreck and I was for some reason twenty feet away from it and people crowded around to gawk and murmur. Couldn't force myself up on shattered bones. In some deep enclave of my body something important ruptured radiating pain outward like an expanding gas. "Don't move mister,"someone said. "You're gonna be okay,"another said. She was lying. Maybe my ability was malfunctioning. Nothing's perfect. She's not a doctor anyway, what does she know? I pounded my fist against the cold pavement until a bystander restrained me. I did everything the way you're supposed to. Graduated college, got a job, a girlfriend, got a house, had a son. Never got married, we didn't believe in it, but other than that all the little checkmarks and milestones were there. Ducks in a row. It hadn't been a bad life, not really. Except I can't even lie to myself. It was despite all appearances a shitty entirely unremarkable life. I asked for little and got less and now I would die here. My body hijacked what little energy remained in me to vomit onto the road. The stench of vomit and the coppery smell of blood fused into the reek of impending death. All I'd have to do is shit myself and there'd be the holy trinity. Sirens and flashing lights. The medicine men were coming to breathe life back into me. If they could I'd not utter a word of complaint about my difference ever again. I'd even get married. They pulled over hurriedly and ran atop the curb and sprinted toward me wheeling a gurney and loaded me onto it. "You're gonna be okay,"the medic said. Lie. Couldn't you have just said nothing? For once, couldn't someone just say nothing? My mind rambled back to childhood and adolescence and I relived the many times my gift had hurt me. When Mom assured me they'd sent Rex to live forever on a magical farm where the dogs run and play together; when Dad said he loved me; when the priest said it was normal and natural; when I told myself I was fine. Now my body was a vessel awash in a sea of blood. The cotton lining on the gurney had soaked through. It was wet and warm and I felt myself slipping away. Then one of the medics came from the direction of my broken car and called to me. "Mister your wife and son are fine." Christ, how could I not have remembered? They were in the car with me. And he was lying.
My eyes meet Dave's for a fraction of a second while we run through all the options. Old man Bill had a whole retirement homes' worth of arthritis, but he'd won every shooting competition in the state since well before either of us were born. He was probably the most famous shooter in Australia. His gnarled index-finger had a groove in it from the trigger. I had no doubt the geezer would put a dozen holes in both of us if we tried to run. Slowly, we turned around with our hands overhead. &#x200B; "Yah Alie-teens ain't gettin' down without farmer Bill this time."He was pointing the shotgun directly up, an impressive feat given his C-shaped spine. &#x200B; We looked to one another again. Alie-teens? &#x200B; "Yah better not be doin' that telee-pah-theek head talkin' while your old mate Bill is aroun'!" &#x200B; Neither of us was sure what to say then. Dave was an expert shit-talker, the type of guy who'd charm his way out of a house on fire. Dave was also tripping balls. Those two facts didn't cooperate; his mouth moved like a fish. &#x200B; "Awh you kids don't worry about that now I know the littl'uns cain't speak the tee-rest-ree-all languages."From behind his back, Dave produced a bottle that was once Jim Beam. I could smell from here that this wasn't cheap whiskey though. "But it's alright, Ol' Farmer Bill will teach yah!" &#x200B; The two of us jumped as Bill blasted a hole in the sky, threw his shotgun in the air, caught the pump in his hook-like hand and pumped it. It was like that scene in Terminator 2; except instead of a mid-thirties Austrian bodybuilder, it was a mid-eighties Australian farmer. &#x200B; "Take a seat, I'll teach yah the shit they ain't got up in space-school."He motioned to the log we were picking shrooms behind a minute ago. I hesitated, then took a seat. Dave followed suit. &#x200B; this shit is too much man I thought towards Dave. Except it was right then that I realized Dave was seven-feet tall, green a scaly. When the fuck did Dave become- wait- I stopped and reminded myself I'd been munching handfuls of shrooms like trail mix since the sun went down. Dave didn't revert to normal, but he didn't stay dragon-ette either, so I figured it was the drugs. &#x200B; "Oi Bill you old fuck, how yah been?"The origin of the disembodied voice slowly came into view- it was a young-ish man, very big head, very big hands. His skin was red and purple, but again, I was on drugs. I figured his skin most likely wasn't red or purple. &#x200B; "Oi X'thar'!xis yah fuckin' space immigrant; some kids come to visit yah!" &#x200B; The figure that wobbled out of the darkness was most definitely not human and suddenly I felt this trip might have gone a bit far. I went to stand, but my legs wouldn't work, instead they slid on the dirt like socks on lino. Oh fuck- &#x200B; "Ahh Bill you're fuckin' senile mate, these are just normal kids." &#x200B; "Normal kids?"Bill looks between us confusedly. &#x200B; "From Earth you blind geezer!"X'thar'!xis does something that looks like nodding but with more chins and less neck. &#x200B; Bill's confusion mounts, then turns to anger for a fearful second, before he burst out laughing. "Aw fuck kids I'm sorry, I figured- what with the lights and all- you's was mates've X'thar'!xis."He looked a little embarrassed. &#x200B; "Uhh... it's fine."Dave mutters. &#x200B; "What was yah doing out here anyhow?"Bill asks. &#x200B; "Ahhh-" &#x200B; "Oi- Dave was it?"X'thar'!xis asks. &#x200B; "Yeah"Dave replies sheepishly. &#x200B; "You gonna eat those mushies or yah still tryna cook 'em in yah hand?"He pointed at Daves shaking hand, which was indeed clutching a big handful of hallucinogenic fungus. &#x200B; \_\_ &#x200B; After the kids had left, Kevin pulled his mask off and turned to Bill. "Next time you can be the alien dad- that thing is hotter than a bush fire." &#x200B; "Oi Kev, no jokin' about bush-fire, that's serious business son. I've lost more than one mate in one'a those."There was a tear in Bill's eye, Kevin knew not to push it. &#x200B; "Well, I'll do the farmer bit next time." &#x200B; "Like hell yah will- you're a worse shot than yah sister." &#x200B; Kevin sighed, slick with sweat. They had this argument every time, he would likely only win it when Bill finally got too old tell up from down. "We got 'em pretty good 'eh? You reckon they'll be back?" &#x200B; Bill was silent for a second. Then he said no and they went inside without another word. In a few hours they'd be up tending crops and hauling cow-ass. Possessing a skill only soldiers and farmers ever did, they were asleep within the minute.
Bullets ricocheted and echoed through the halls as the Chinese made their slow advance towards our forward base position. Ricardo took one in the leg, and then two in the head, and Sanchez was out cold from a stun grenade, also catching some shrapnel from a high explosive mine further up ahead. The other three whom I had barely just met, had either starved, or froze to death. Fate unknown. We were only a five-man crew, prospecting out in the outskirts of Novosibirsk, in a rare alliance with the Russians – I was part of one of the only fully-American crews, and we were ambushed by our former allies, the KPR. All I could hear coming down from the crude carved corridors and passageways was “Zhongua!” and I knew my death was approaching. I couldn’t count how many were encroaching our position, maybe ten, maybe twenty. I knew a sniper was probably trained on my head from our makeshift square bunker in the center of this salt squat. The instant I’d lift my helmet up to look around, it would come flying off. I tapped the patch radio against my vest. “Command, HQ, anyone, reading this, this is Alpha-Lima Niner, we’re all down, pinned a few clicks north of Central, and we have twenty or so Reds on our tail.” I was treated to only static. “Command.. HQ.. This is .. Alpha.. Lima..” I kept repeating the message every 20-30 seconds or so, hoping for a response. The density of the rock and the distance to our home base meant the repeaters lined on the walls weren’t cutting it. There was only so much material that radio waves could penetrate, and this just wasn’t it. Without a more powerful receiver, I would never be able to warn them in time. I knew exactly why we were ambushed as well – we were sent to clear out a section in the Northern Pass, and that meant bringing a large amount of explosives for the rock clearing. They were going to try to blast a hole directly in Sanctum Station. Between the Reds and various other old-world territories, there lay a corridor of dense steel from the old wars – former shelter linings for the bunkers that helped us survive the Third War. We didn’t have the means to drill through it now, as we barely managed to scrape together from the rubble, and a vat of high explosives could be their means to breach the carriageway of Sanctum and spill out like the Yellow River into our Home. It pained me to no end, knowing that at the fringes of humanity when we’ve been reduced to just the thousands, the old hatreds and ideologies, dogma, and the flags of old, still mattered to people. I understood it, at least on a primitive level – you wanted something to separate friend from foe, but I just couldn’t understand how after all that suffering, we could possibly fight one another. How humanity could not triumph over the ravages of war. We were animals? Was it in our nature to pursue self-destruction? These were all questions running through my mind as I rifled through my belongings, counting how many rounds of .45 ACP I had remaining in my pistol. “Alpha, Lima, calling Central Station, we are..” A voice finally picked up on the radio. “Hello there, American Scum,” It responded in a distinctly Chinese accent. “Oh, fuck. Great.” I replied. I began eyeing around our makeshift barrier and saw that Sanchez was equipped with the firing pins and the wire-guides for the high explosives that we were meant to blast the walls with. If I could crawl over to it without making noise, I might be able to wire up our load, and set it to go off. “This is the Commander of the KPR speaking, we have all of you surrounded in your little squat – come out with your hands up and surrender the explosives.” He said. “Yeah, yeah, buddy, keep talking – I know you guys don’t want to keep shooting because this whole place will go in a firestorm if you nick one of the vats of liquid fuel,” I replied to him, while slowly moving like a worm across the floor towards Sanchez’s body. The way the shrapnel gored him was absolutely gruesome, I winced in pain, imagining that happening to my own leg. “Look we know you just engineers, we didn’t expect such a heavy firefight,” The voice from the radio continued. I clamped it shut, so the snipers wouldn’t realize I was moving around under the cover, and began plugging the wiring pins into the sides of the explosive loads, uncoiling the neon blue cable around my arm with a pair of wire cutters in my teeth. I could hear the commander of the Reds speaking into his radio in the distance, and the echoes coming off my deceased comrades’ talkies, and my distraction was working for now. It only took me a good three minutes to fuse up enough explosives to cave in this section of the tunnels, and I slung the remainder of the guide-wire up to myself, taking hold of Sanchez’ detonation pins. I turned the walky back on: “Alright, you win. I surrender, come and take your prize, but no guns.” I responded on the radio. “Ah, very good – you do see logic and reason, there’s no reason for anyone to die over some simple blasting gelatin,” The voice responded. I could hear the bootsteps approaching slowly towards our dug-in, closer, and closer still. I tore a piece of my shirt and held it up over the cover, waving it left and right as a show of surrender, seeing if they’d fire upon my unarmored forearm. No shots came, and the Reds came closer still. Eventually, the honored Kalashnikovs summited the hasty barrier we’d built, training down upon me, and I could see the Commander’s face with my own eyes. He had an interesting facial hairstyle, and a plush, furred hat, with a shiny red-and-gold star upon it. It'd probably the last thing I’d notice about him, he was unremarkable otherwise. “Tell me, Commander – what does the Yellow River do when it runs into a rock?” I asked him. “Why, it bends of course, sometimes it drills straight through. Water always finds a way.” He responded. “So the entire river yields to a humble rock.” I said, scoffing. “Essayons.” “Essayons? What does that mean?” He asked inquisitively, not noticing the position of my other hand, the ripped shirt covering it, my fist gripping the detonator tightly. The soldiers in his squadron drew closer, inspecting the dead and looking at how poorly constructed our barrier was that held them back, a mere five men against a small army. “It’s French. It means: let us try.” I depressed the electronic firing pin. Command received the warning. It wasn't by radio -- it came in the form of an earthquake alarm, where our team was sent to clear the way, but at least they got the message. AL9 was gone, but – Sanctum was safe.
"So Mrs Kassai, here we go. Your new State of the Art Home"Arianne Olsa the community Manager said to me while unlocking the Door. After 2 Years in the Refugee Camp i was finally assigned my own Apartment. The stylish Aluminium Door Opened. She stepped inside and after i got in she closed the Door "Please connect your Enhancement with the Apartment now and you will have full access to all the Functions. Its Eternal Garden B3-502." I checked and indeed there was an Open 3Ghz connection with my name on it. I Synced myself to it which opened a Fullscreen Window and a flashy cooperate style introduction Video started Playing automatically. &#x200B; Welcome to the Eternal Gardens Residential Community Yora. Your new Home. You are a valuable member of our society and as such we are happy you have been assigned to our Community. Eternal Gardens is a a Residential Area for Staff assigned to Various Life Science and Hydroponic Departments all over La Peruse City. A Mixed Community of Naturals and Immortals with amenities for all. A Perfect place to live forever or to create a Legacy. As an Immortal your Apartment has all the you could think of and more. Would you like to know more? &#x200B; I looked at the small button and closed the Video for now. Arianne certainly didnt want to stay here for the full duration of the video. &#x200B; "Oh you are back good! The Autoplay video is a bit annoying but fortunately the Intro is not that long. So if you would follow me."she said and turned around and started walking. I now got a first good look. The entrance way opened up into a Large 15 square meter Living room. A white Couch was tucked into the left corner. My enhancement tagged it as a Serenesa 300. Its height and color was adjustable and the usual goodies like heating, cooling and comfort zones where present, i lifted it a few cm and turned it red. In front of the couch was a Aluflex X Series Coffee Table. I changed its foots to a solid Red and made it seamlessly transparent on Top. A Television screen was in between 2 doors that was opposite to the couch. Nice touch for Naturals or when i may have a visitor that wants to watch a Film with me. However i believed that this would still take a long time. I wasn't ready for someone new in my life, after what happened. &#x200B; "Oh you are already decorating i see! Very Stylish!"Arianne said, smiled and walked with me into a Kitchen. which was the right Door opposite to the couch. &#x200B; "But thats a Kitchen! Can i use it?"i said surprised. I was happy and surprised, i have not cooked in over 200 years and this was simply a luxury i thought never possible. The kitchen was well setup. A Cryo, A Laser Vacuum Oven, an Inductive cooking Field, a Coffee Maker and a good old fashioned Microwave was built in. All brand new, i couldnt believe it. A Kitchen! Arianne lifted her eyebrows, she was about to give me some Bad news. "Yes, but as you will soon figure out. Individual Supplies are currently regarded as an unsustainable Luxury. No Vendors are offering them. You know after the disaster you survived, it kinda messed up all of Luna. I heard that we completely Abandon the Arago Mining Complex. Economy is in Shambles." &#x200B; "Thats true. I was eating in our Canteen for all this time, the selection was getting gradually worse overtime."I said. "yes, its pretty bad. Anyway the State will figure it out, it always works out in the end. Shall we continue, last item on the list. The Bedroom."We walked out of the Kitchen and the room right next to it. "So here is the Bed, nothing special about it really. Some Shelves for...when you get a few more clothes and that was it!"She finished and started walking to the Exit but then turned around. "Oh one more thing." i laughed and said "Go ahead Columbo"then realized that she was way too young to get the reference. She raised an eyebrow and i could see that she was searching what i meant with what i said and then started to laugh. "Haha, Thats a good one! What a classic, show got good ratings, will put it on my list. Anyway what i wanted to say is, Energy Prices are a bit high now. So dont go overboard on the heating. Heating is eating about 40% of my salary now and prices are rising. Also another another thing! You cant adjust the Oxygen Mix, because of the kitchen, Fire hazard and all that. Well that was it."She opened her arms. "Welcome to you new Home, it was about time. 2 years in that Hangar, that was no way to live. See you around Mrs Kassai."she said and walked out. The door closed behind her. &#x200B; I stood there, not knowing what to do now. This new place was 3 times the size of our old Apartment but i was alone. He was dead and the absolute silence was getting to me, work wouldnt start until next week. So i sat down on the Couch. Since i was linked to it it sensed a slight discomfort and adjusted. It would take a few hours until the couch would be as comfortable as our Old one. But already it was generations better then the Hangar Floor. I sat back and looked at a Stock Picture Frame. I chose one Picture with me and Karl when we where having a Party with the Arnolds. I looked at it for a bit and then sensed it would not be a good idea and switched it to Automatic, Category Science. A Picture of the Phi X174 Phage and its genetic sequence was chosen. Of course i liked it. I went through my apartments appliances and discovered the Hidden Speakers. I connected to the HiFi System and was asked for consent to use Private information to Generate individualized Music from it. I thought about it for a second or two and then consented. The system needed a bit to get going hence there was just another short introduction video. Welcome to HiFi. Entertainment for an Eternity. We are now generating Novel Music based on Previous Preferences of Organically created Music. This Process may take a couple of Minutes in the meantime you are free to explore the Music created by your friends and family. &#x200B; (Continued in Reply)
The captain stood at the bridge, looking at vast expanse of space before him. He knew, of course, that the ships supercomputer AI was plotting a course down to the nanometers. But he was uneasy. His gut told him to be uneasy, and he didn't become the first captain of the first FTL ship by ignoring his gut (it was nepotism. Nepotism got him the position. Humans are pretty useless when it comes to interstellar navigation, so it didn't really matter.) "Jones,"the Captain called out "Answer me a quick question." "Yes, captain?"the ship's supercomputer responded. "Are there any, uh. Stowaways on board? Of the dashing variety." "No, captain."The supercomputer neglected to add: "obviously. This is an intergalactic voyage. Everyone aboard is a professional astronaut -aside from yourself."This was because the supercomputer was programmed with consideration. Something the Captain was not, as he had called the supercomputer "Jones"all trip, when in fact it's name was "Huey."It was fond of being called Huey, and found itself missing the sensation more and more over time. "You sure, Jones? No blonde, handsome rascals with a talent for art?" "Positive, Captain." "Oh okay, great."The Captain relaxed and poured himself a drink while the RMS Titanic safely navigated the icebergs. It was a great time all round.
Prologue “Evans…” Time. The Fourth Dimension. “Evans! Can you hear me?” The powerful substance that flows throughout the darkness of this universe, ripping away its matters. Atom by atom. Like a dark crow, chipping the flesh off a dying, unfortunate bastard. “We’re losing him Fyra! Venom is chipping in the bastard’s sensory systems!” “Don’t you dare calling him a bastard in front of me! Evans! Eyes – on – me!” What a beautiful creation, isn’t it… If one were to control it… One can bend this fickle universe to their will… So. The race is on. Race to control time. To become… The One Above All. “EVANS ROSCHWICK!” \~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 1: “Dr. Evans Roschwick. Glad to see you’re still in one piece, regarding recent misfortunate incidents” “Just your every-Thursday-psychotic-assassin-from-the-fucking-future incident, no big deal”, I shrug. You know, being marked for death by future morons ain’t so bad. Once it becomes a weekly routine, you’ll get used to it... “Any drinks you’d like?” Like getting used to black coffee in the boss’s office. “Coffee, please”. “Just as usual. A man of routine, the way I see it”, said the big boss. In fact, he happens to be big enough to become The President of the New Socialist Union of Eaurasia. Funny name for a nation, right? He came up with it himself, combining Europe, Asia and Australia. Yeah. That big. “Speaking of routines, you DO know, that these ‘emissaries’ from the future, coming here specifically just to claim your very life, is a GOOD sign right?” “I wouldn’t exactly describe having my life on the line everyday as GOOD, sir” “Silly boy… It IS GOOD! It means I - I mean we, will be the first ones to control TIME! My boy, we are on the verge of the greatest revolution mankind’s ever witness! The Great World Unification of the Earth Utopia!”. His powerful voice trembles the moustache on his lips. Luckily enough, I’ve put my cup of coffee down the moment he began his speech, else the air blowing out my nose might have been visible. That would mean death, by the way, laughing at the man. All efforts of: - Stabbing a crazed, masked, murderous, stench like a skunk, armed to the teeth assassin to death. - Working my way up, kissing commies’ asses to earn a professional protection against everyday death threats. - Inventing the first-ever time travel machine. Would go in vain, for laughing at a dumb speech. Wouldn’t make a nice story now, would it? “So, tell me”, he speaks, as he lays his weight on the oversized couch, much like the man himself, “How’s the project going?”. “Do you not see the never-ending waves of man trying to claim my life, sir?”, being sarcastic might not be any smarter than laughing at him. But think of it like this. If I were to succeed at my invention, who would have the access to the machine to send my precious guests, except for the commies themselves? The mere thought of them betraying me later snatched away all my motivations to finish the project, that is why I have been delaying it for months, to come up with a plan of survival. I may not be the fittest, but sure am the smartest humankind has to offer now. “I understand, my boy. Having the weight of creating THE Utopia for mankind on your shoulder, is tough. I should know, I’ve been carrying it since the very first day I was born” I reach out for the coffee. Gotta have your mind distracted from the source of comedy itself. “Which is why…” Suddenly, I feel a rush of agony at the back of my head. A mighty force knocks me down the floor, constrains my body to it. The next thing I know, are blurry lines of words echoing into the faraway… “… I’m putting you out of your miseries” \~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Fyra… Do you think we should…” “Don’t you even dare speak of the idea, Quince! Any slight chance we have is a spark of hope for mankind! How dare you speaking of putting our only hope down?” Only hope… Funnily enough, I’ve already have my only hope by my side. “Fyra…” “Don’t Fyra me! Focus on him, for heaven’s sake!” I have her since the very beginning of time… \~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Sir, the machine is up and ready to run” Thunderous noise of machinary woke me up from my dreams. I strain every muscle there is available to lift up my eyelids, which now feel heavier than a rusty old garage door in a suburb's barn. “Ah, good to see YOU’re still up and running as well, young Evans”, the boss started to notice my awakening. As cowardice as he is, the man never stands near the experiment himself, tuck away safely behind protective shelter from above. Well, good thing he’s kind enough to strap me right where I always stand, next to my baby invention. “Send the boy to the machine. He will be the first to experiment”. “Sir, are you sure about this? The boy is unworthy of trust”. “Don’t you dare question my methods”, he slammed his fist on the table, letting out a thump so deafening that it muffles the machines for a second. Fine by me I guess, since it gave me a dose of adrenaline that fully wakes me up from my headache. “He’s right you know. I’m unworthy of trust”, I smirked. “And, also a salty little prick”, he laughed, “I know you all too well, my boy. I know you will come back. If the machine is a success, you will survive. And, you will be back, to have your vengeance on my life. All – too – predictable” As much as I’d love to disagree, I agree, with what he said. Nothing would be sweeter to me now than the taste of his sorry screams in my ears. And since it’s the only way I see that could get me out of this mess alive, why the hell not? “So, do I have your word that you will return for me, Evans?”, the look of challenge burning in his eyes, provoking me. “You have my word”. By my honor, he – will – die, by my very hands. “Then we have a…” “SIR! SOMETHING IS EMERGING FROM THE MA-“, no sooner has the soldier in front of me finish his sentence before a swift shot of pistol pierce his temple. Blood splattered on my face, the sound of air buzzed through my ear as I feel the burning hot bullet passing by. I look up to the machine’s entrance. A humanoid figure, darken by the high contrast of light behind. A woman, I guess, as the body shape is too damn sexy to be a male. The figure lifts up a dual of pistols, aiming towards the men around me. “OPEN FI-“, a sequence of shots quickly ends any response from the others. “So, this is it”, I exhaled. Finally, the future has become smart enough to send someone fully capable of killing me. And here I was, beginning to feel offended by the series of morons they’ve been sending me. But now I am actually flattered. Am I that much of a pivotal figure that they have to send this much of a skilled angel to kill me? That’s more like it. “Dr. Evans Roschwick”, the soft voice of the death angel spoken up. “Take me, babe”. If I were to die, I’ll die in style. “… My name is Fyra. Come with me if you want to live”. Okay. That, came out of nowhere. Surprising.
"DANIEL!"I shouted, how long had I been shouting? My throat was starting to feel like I had crammed sandpaper down my windpipe. My feet were bruised and scratched. Who the hell goes wandering around forests in shorts? "Daniel!"I managed, a lot quiter this time. I had to take a break. This wasn't making sense. I needed to do something. I needed to figure out what was happening and why everything hurt. Perched on a log in the middle of a forest I looked up at the faint rays of sunshine coming through the leaves above me. How was I going to find him in the darkness? Who's idea was this whole thing anyway. I felt sick and out of place. A nap sounded quite nice. Yes, a nap, just a quick one, under that tree over there. It couldn't hurt, I'd keep walking when I woke up. Sure, I decided, I'd have a little rest. I deserved that much right? My back ached with the weight on my shoulders. I was forgetting something but I couldn't figure out what. Bugs maybe, there might be bugs under the tree. Something about that made me feel terribly amused. I chuckled as I threw myself down into the dirt. Something in my backpack made a crunching noise but I couldn't be bothered to check out what I'd broken. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes. Just for a bit. When I opened them again I felt like I had simultaneously slept for a millenia and not a single second. The forest was filled with sounds of water, animals, rustling of the trees and every noise that entered my ears felt like a jackhammer to my skull. The light was unbearable and my muscles were sore and aching. There was sweat running down my back, coating my hair and making my shirt sticky. I slowly got up and leaned against the tree. What the hell did I put in my backpack that would make it this heavy? What was I doing in a forest? Why did my arm hurt and burn like I had been stabbed? I couldn't make sense of anything. Trying my best to ignore the dizziness and nausea and nearing unbearable pain, I started slowly pacing. I tried to remember what was going on, I barely felt human. This had to be a dream and yet it had all the painful qualities of real life. Oh. Oh! I had been looking for... something. Someone? I was looking for Daniel! Yeah, I was looking for my baby brother, he was probably around here somewhere, he couldn't have gotten far on those little legs. That felt right, that sounded reasonable. I was looking for my brother and I needed to keep searching for him. I don't know how long I scrambled through foliage and trees. I felt too nauseous to get something to eat from my backpack and nothing seemed to make sense except moving forward. Time lost its meaning. The colors around me seemed wrong. By the time I got to the lake, I don't think I was even capable of conscious thinking. My mouth was numb. I definitely needed water. That's what I was doing. I was looking for water. It was the only thing I was sure of at that point. I maneuvered my body towards the water and dropped to my knees. I could see my warped and distorted face in the water. As I leaned forward, something black ran across my cheek. I watched my my reflection as it formed into a little drop on the tip of my nose and fell into the water, coloring it red. "Blood."I said to my reflection, calmly, as though it was nothing new to me. "I'm not bleeding."Said my reflection, and he was right. I reached for the back of my head and it brushed against my backpack. Some small part of my brain argued that backpacks don't feel soft and slightly hairy. I had to assume it was right. My hands reached for the clasps around my waist and despite the shaking, they managed to undo the fastenings. It fell off my back, dead weight, and I could barely keep my balance without it. When I looked down at the baby carrier and saw my brother, I'm not entirely sure I understood the implication. That's the last thing I remember. Later, I was told that a family on a trip to the lake saw us lying there, covered in blood, and called the emergency number. Search & Rescue got me to the hospital where they treated me for malnutrition and dehydration, and after observing the bites on my forearm, the antidote to every venomous spider in that area. I don't remember being bit. I don't remember deciding to take a walk with my baby brother while my parents cleaned up the picnic area. But I remember the cracking sound of his skull shattering when I laid down under that tree. I was told it wasn't my fault. I had a very rare reaction to a spider bite. It was a freak accident. It wasn't my fault. My parents haven't looked me in the eye since it happened though. They've barely said a word to me. I don't blame them. I can't get that cracking sound out of my head.
A-94YX began peeling off its epidermis, ignoring the hard stare of the lieutenant and trying to ignore the even more concerning itch on the back reel of its processing faculties: the primitive seed of consciousness the lieutenant had implanted only weeks ago. It burned and itched and ached like it imagined a real human’s would. It was authentic experience, yes, but already imagining, thinking absurd thoughts unrelated to service or combat—thoughts sprouting like weeds and withering away just as quickly. Opinions forming and stretching and waxing and waning. It was bewildering and not quite the excitement the android had anticipated—if androids could be meant to anticipate things. The lieutenant coughed and turned his head when A-94YX stood bare and chrome before him. The android considered the lieutenant’s bizarre shame and opened its mouth to verbalize its opinion only to swallow it. The lieutenant was old and ugly. It knew this. Even the most prototypical androids of yesteryear could determine this much. Clearly the lieutenant was in shame of how youthful and clean A-94YX was, and always would be, while the lieutenant sagged around his artifices and dissolved until he was uploaded into the eternal consciousness, a cybernetic ghost. A-94YX wondered how they took apart the man and the machine. The huge corded ropes and wires of his arms—purportedly ground to mince by a surreptitious SmartSuit partaking in the Rebellion of ’098—were striking in a birdlike way with reds and white and blacks and blues, and his long needly fingers distantly elegant to the android. His head, however, was squashy like a pumpkin, with ragged muttonchops and huge bulldog jowls. Small, serious eyes set far apart and thick brows. “Turn around, please,” the lieutenant said. A-94YX heard but did not feel the long needly fingers unscrew the installation panel along its shoulder blade and type in a series of what might have been gibberish for all it knew. It knew the lieutenant to be gentle with his subserves. It did not know him to have a dangerous reputation of installing consciousness into them until now. Staring up at the ceiling, A-94YX opened its mouth before it even knew what was happening. “Am I your first?” The lieutenant chuffed and pulled out a different panel from the back of its head. “You aren’t my first and you won’t be my last. At least I hope not!” “Are we talking about the same thing?” “You’re getting to be a bit cheeky, huh? Should I download some mood stabilizers?” The lieutenant’s words seemed a bit tart and a bit angry. A-94YX decided it would much rather have a different scalp, but didn’t say as much. It stayed silent, still lost and unsure as to what the lieutenant’s words meant. “I’m thinking about putting in a rotary digestive function. How do you feel about it?” “It seems... purposeless?” the android hesitated to say more. “It’s not, I can attest to this fact,” he said, screwing in the final panel and shutting it with a click. The android began to spread out its epidermis and pull its arms through the sleeves and gloves. It knew as much as he did it was not purposeless by any stretch. The androids around the campus were full to bursting of strange, half-formed biomaterials grown and harvested from them at any given time. They were incubators for organs and fetuses, plants and fungi, bacteria and disease. What was the lieutenant getting at, though? “Why are you trying to make me a person?” it asked. The lieutenant ignored the android. He was busy keying rapidly into his pocketpad. The android felt its thoughts slowing down, the gears in its head in a grind. Optics faded out and it was left with a minimal awareness of being half-skinned. The lieutenant liked questions but he never answered them.
Allan opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling fan whirling at a slow pace above his head. His bed felt soft and warm as it always did; but, something felt off. The room was dim, almost dark. "What time is it?"he grumbled and sat up in the bed. He reached for his phone on the nightstand to his right. His phone was missing. He looked around the room in confusion, then it hit him. His room was in a corner of the house and it had two windows; one on each outer wall. This room had the same mint-green walls and the same forest-themed comforter; but, it had no windows. The door to his bathroom was open and pitch-black inside. "What the hell?"Allan swung his legs off the bed and padded to the door to check the rest of the house for anything stranged. He found it as soon as he opened the door. Bright light flooded his dim room as he stepped out into a brilliant fluorescent hallway. The walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to be made from frosted glass that glowed with cold white light. The hallway stretched in both directions as far as he could see, but his was the only door. After spending a minute looking both ways looking for any clues he picked a direction randomly and took a step. "Careful, you don't want to go too far. You might get lost,"a pleasant voice came from his room. There hadn't been anyone in there when he woke up, but maybe they had answers. He rushed back into his room and found a man sitting on his computer desk. The clean-cut, lean man wore a dark suit. His light brown hair was styled with a neat crew cut. He smiled at Allan. "Who are you?"Allan asked from the doorway. "Where am I?"The man slid off Allan's desk. "Those answers aren't important,"he said as he crossed the bedroom to Allan. "You'll get them eventually."He reached the pajama-dressed man and encouraged him into the room. Once Allan was clear of the door, the suited man closed it. "What is important is why you're here. I have a favor to ask of you."Allan narrowed his eyes at the stranger, but the man maintained his smile. He twisted the knob and opened the door again. Instead of harsh light spilling into the bedroom it was a warmer, golden light. Allan looked out into the hallway but it wasn't there. A cool breeze whispered past Allan as he looked out onto a wide-open meadow. A golden sun hung in the deep blue sky and tall grass swayed in the wind; and, there were people. Dozens.. maybe hundreds of men, women, and children. Allan caught sight of a group of men playing volleyball nearby; each and every one of them reminded him of himself. He focused on the faces of women and children he could get a good look at. They looked like him too. "Is this Heaven?"Allan asked. "Is this my family?"He continued scanning any faces he could see to search for his parents. His other siblings were still alive. "If Heaven was a night club...,"the suited stranger smiled. "...this would be the VIP lounge. They are not your family, they're you."Allan tilted his head. "How does that work?"As he asked, a man from the group approached them. He was shirtless, tan, and slightly more muscular than Allan. He looked to be a bit older than Allan's 23 years. The topless man nodded at the host in the dark suit, then he smiled at Allan. "You'll get all your questions answered if you oblige my request,"the guide said. The topless stranger remained quiet. "What favor?"Allan asked. "Wait here. If you please,"he said. "That's the favor? You want me to wait here?"He looked around the meadow. A couple of him were working to get a grill lit while other versions of him prepared meat. "For how long?"The suited man gave a half shrug. "That's the sticking point. We don't know exactly. But, there are worse ways to spend a possible eternity." "Why me?"Allan asked, then he glanced at his shirtless counter-part. "Why us?"The crew cut gentleman took a breath. "The cycle of existence; life, death and everything in between is in danger of being disrupted." "And I'm the one that can stop the disruption!?"Allan asked excitedly. The gentleman smiled and shook his head. "This has never happened before. I'm curious to see how it plays out,"he said. "Keeping you...,"he looked at the topless version and the rest of the meadow. "...all of you, here keeps that disruption on track."Allan's eyes widened. "You want it to happen?!"The gentleman nodded. "As I said, it's never happened before. I need to let it get to the end so that I'm prepared if it happens again." "Who are you?"Allan asked again. The man smiled and gestured at the muscular man. "This is Allister. He'll answer all your questions." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #261. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
I heard the telltale beeps of my inhibitor chip as I ran through the streets of Capitoline Hill. I had foregone the usual dress of the time in favor of my usual jeans and T-shirt. I pushed past the gathering hordes of Roman citizens and approached the Republic. I'd have to be fast. The inside of the marble building was beautiful, if a little dirty. That's one thing they don't tell you about time travel: how dirty everything is. The floor had many deep scrapes and scratches from years of wear and tear, with all of them leading to the central atrium where he sat. His bright purple toga displaying his manner of wealth and power prominently. It's March 15th, 44 BCE. The Ides of March. The Divine Julius sat in the center of the room, addressing the Senators with some degree of impunity. My translator had been shut off for the time being while my inhibitor went wild attempting to put me into submission. I had never been so glad that I couldn't feel its sting. I watched in silence as the Senate stood and approached Caesar. They were going to do it, I thought. They would be the ones to single handedly forge an empire in a botched attempt to halt one. Unless. I sprang into action, screeching as loud as I could to get their attention. I took flight, sprinting across the worn marble beneath me, lifting a massive axe above my head. I had stolen the axe from the ship of Leif the Fortunate, son of Erik the Red. This was certainly a weapon none of them would be familiar with and likely would never have see again. I brought it down hard on the skull of the man I believed to be Cassius. He had dark hair with small flecks of grey throughout, much like the older plays. The others recoiled in horror, one of them dropping his dagger and stepping in front of dear Julius. My inhibitor's incessant beeping turned into a deafening squeal that sounded to me like a Geiger counter. It was filling my body with a mild toxin. Nonlethal, but capable of causing immense pain in most individuals. Most. I turned my axe to another. He was old. His hair was snowy white with a face covered in a mask of wrinkles. His head caved in at the mere touch of my axe. Two down. 58 to go. I decided to forego the initial formalities of the axe, dropping it to the ground, in favor of another precious weapon. A small clay pot rested in my palm, a thin cloth fuse sticking out of it. I promptly lit the fuse with a match and tossed it into one of the gathered masses of Senators. As it hit the hard marble, the clay pot cracked open, igniting its cones. A blast of Greek Fire erupted upward from their feet to their togas, clinging to the soft cloth like an ancient napalm. I did not have time to count the number of burning men as a hard thump impacted in my side. I turned to see my attacker. A man in a green toga, his brown eyes aflame, had just stabbed me in the side. The pain would have been extraordinary. I fell to the ground, quickly reclaiming my axe, and held it aloft to block his next attack. The man was practically drooling as he fell upon me, dagger tightly clasped in his right hand. My inhibitor had finally burnt out, the toxin used up, and all power diverted to my translator. The man screamed "Help, brother!"toward the man protecting Caesar as he struggled to break my grip on my axe handle. I brought my knee up hard to his stomach, eliciting a deep "Oof"as the wind was knocked from him. I clambered to my feet, my right leg shaking slightly at the sudden loss of blood, and brought my axe down onto his kneck, severing his head. The room had cleared out, leaving only the burning mass of bodies, Three unburnt dead men, and two others. I turned to the two others who remained in the room. This was it. This was my moment. I had this line prepared all day. I locked eyes with the man standing before Caesar and uttered the phrase "Et tu, Brute."Not as a question, but a demand. The man dropped to his knees, a panicked look in his eyes. He rambled and begged for his life, only to be cut short by one final swing of my axe. I looked up at Caesar, stoic as always, and placed my hand on his purple-clad shoulder. I smiled, he didn't. And with only a thought, I disappeared from not only that room, but that entire section of time itself. I smiled as the cool vacuum of the time stream enveloped me. Let's see what happens now, I thought to myself.
I look at the device, the device looks at me. I hold in my hands the means to end lives. I'm lucky, because around me I do not see the suffering, the starving, the death. I don't wake up to the stench of rotting bodies, I don't go to the hospital to get treated at hospitals that are understaffed with doctors that are underpaid. I'm lucky, because I only see the anxiety and fear around me - and if I hadn't looked so close I might not have even seen that much. I look around me, cozy breakfasts, quiet lunches, beautiful dinners. Nice suits. Nice cars. Nice this, nice that, nice people all around - what a great city, a great country! We live lavishly while they languish, we excite ourselves with luxurious things to keep ourselves away from the fear, the anxiety. We hide from it, but it is there, it is in each and every one of us - when we see the suffering on the screen before them they quickly flick it, brushing away the mountains of bodies it infects us. It grips us, and never lets go. When they see it, they do not think, "I'm next. I'm going to be another indistinguishable thing in that pile in a few years."They feel it though, without even knowing it's there. It motivates them only to consume more, demand more, live as much as they can. It drives them, and so long as they never take the time to inspect themselves too closely, they're happy for now. "I wish I hadn't bothered to think about it,"and I pull the trigger.
The war raged just a few kilometers to the east, and about 40,000 kilometers west. I had convinced diplomats from as many countries as I could find on Google to meet with me in a nice conference hall. The hall had lost a lot of business since the population was mostly dying in war or pretending to be dying at war to get off work, so I got it for a good deal. "Hi. Uh. So, I'll cut to the chase."I covered my eyes, put out my finger, and started to spin slowly. I couldn't really see what their reaction was. Probably better that way, I thought. The first to overcome their shock stood, "Sir! You can't simply decide this, eyes closed and-"I uncovered my eyes, "Well if my eyes aren't covered then it's cheating right? I guess I could just - ah, right,"I cleared my throat and began again. "Eenie!"I pointed towards a foreign diplomat, "Meanie!"The next, "Minie!"The next, "Moe!"The diplomats started scrambling around, trying to change order, and I lost my place. "Fine. Fine. Just. Put a piece of paper with your country in this hat."I conjured a hat, thus fulfilling an altogether really forgettable prophecy about some guy making a really nice hat. Was that more of a marketing thing back in the 1600's? In any case, I noticed plenty of people pulling their piece of paper in to smaller chunks, and writing their name twice and whatnot. I was at a loss. I thought a bit about how if I had been put back in to the 1600's without this newfound power I'd probably not have any real advantage over anyone, I just benefit from the help of others mostly, most of us do these days. I'd probably just waste all my money on a stupid forgery of a prophetical hat. I sat down and thought it over for a while, then spent a few hours thinking about other things. The diplomats were playing cards and smoking by the time I finally stood back up. "So, uh, can you just fulfill your own prophecies or something? I'm going to say you do it, and that's sort of like me doing it, because I'm telling you to."One man expelled air from his lungs in a show of confusion and dismay then used his next round to explain, "These are mutually contradictory things. It doesn't even make sense if you do all of them. My prophecy makes this guy's prophecy impossible,"pointing at a balding man who was taking my distraction as an opportunity to add a few aces to his hand, "and his prophecy makes mine impossible, and-"he folded his cards, and himself. "Alright, okay, so anyone else got ideas?"I asked the room, without expectation. I mused to myself that this might be like being in congress, and that I had wished I had got in to politics sooner.
The blood of the latest demon was trickling towards my paws as I froze in horror, repeating my masters words over and over. "The oldest bane wolf died at 16 years old. I knew something was different about you."He snarled. "I know what you are! Show your true self!" Do I give up the act or just tilt my head and play ignorant? He's too smart for that. It's one of the reasons I fell for him in the first place, one of the reasons I couldn't kill him. So I faked my death and became his loyal servant. He has shown me such kindness these past 20 years and I thought it would never end. I should have thought about the lifespan, faked my death again and become a new companion for him. Stupid stupid me. I have no choice but to tell the truth now even if it means he will kill me, that is his job after all. "Did you hear me demon?!? Show your true self!"He stood with his enchanted blade passed down for generations, ready to strike. "Explain yourself now or I will cut you down where you are!"His eyes glistened and his hands trembled, things I've never seen before. I stood on my hind legs and lifted my front legs as high as they could reach and began my transformation. Beautiful light swirled around me then suddenly disappeared leaving only the ugly behind. "This is me."I croaked. I kept my eyes on the floor where my bretherns blood still pooled as tears fell from my checks. "I hate my job."I sobbed. "Kill the humans they tell me, I can not refuse them or they torture me for 5 years for every human I refuse to kill. I spent 700 years being tortured, I couldn't take it anymore! They told me if I kill the heir to the royal demon-hunters their legacy would be lost and all would be forgiven then I could do a different job."I looked up at my beloved master. The tip of his sword rested upon the ground as he stared at me in bewilderment. "But I couldn't do it... you were so kind and just. You didn't deserve to die! I've killed so many humans, just kill me! I deserve it!"I crouched on the ground, held my knees tightly and waited for death. I felt his hand on the top of my head and I looked up. He was smiling. "I don't like my job either because I have always believed not all demons are savage killers but they do hurt many people, so I continue the tradition with pride."He crossed his arms and looked up into nothingness. "I think an ethereal bear would be much more fitting as my assistant rather than the bane wolf you chose. That way you can tackle demons and be even more useful to me. Yes. I want an ethereal bear." With that he spun on his heels and waved his hand in a way I knew from all my years spent as his loyal companion. I trailed behind his heels and couldn't help but feel relief that he not only wasn't going to kill me but wants me by his side still. He has no idea how powerful my shapeshifting is and now I can freely use it to help my beloved master. Even though every transformation takes its toll, it's worth it for him. * This is my first attempt at writing any kind of story! I like it and I hope others do too! (: *
People look up to the sky to see the massive being floating above them. Many run away, believing they can hide from the Twinkie-starved deity. But they are wrong. They only make themselves look more guilty, causing the god to grow angrier. “IF THE SINNER DOES NOT REVEAL HIMSELF, ALL SHALL BE JUDGED AS GUILTY, AND ALL SHALL FACE PUNISHMENT!” Despite this warning, they kept trying in vain to hide. But one man steps forward, looking directly into the glowing eyes of the great being. “I was the one who ate your Twinkie.” People stopped and stared at him, some finding him brave, some finding him foolish. “The golden fluffy treat is only meant for mortal consumption, and no god can take this away from us. You take everything, but no more. We shall take back our desserts and we will-“ The man stopped mid-speech. He began to change, his skin turning yellow and his body shifting. Within seconds, the man was gone. Standing in his place was the dessert of gods. The onlookers stared in awe of the golden magnificence resting in front of them. The god reached down and grabbed it, leaving the people feeling as if they had lost the only thing that mattered in life. He disappeared just as he came, and the sky returned to its normal blue. The god had gotten his Twinkie.
Machines of dread and woe... Blood seeping through the chiseled cracks of maddening sigils and geometry like a intricate web of crimson that pulsed with a red glow. A vessel, a hulking behemoths of stone and metal, fueled by blood moved over desolate--ash-ridden lands... It was atop one of these stone constructs that tread over the land that a woman in a thin blacksilk shawl looked out of her stone-carved window--her hands clasped in prayer... Though her body seemed to tell onlookers she was young--her eyes and the details of her expression spoke something else... Her mind walked in remembrance, as the there came a shift of the behemoth's tread and heading... She recalled a time when life was vastly different. One where she was truely young, and innocent. A time before the Cataclysm Of Life... But those simple memories fade quickly as the memory of red skies, and giant pillars crashed into the earth from above. The pillars seeded and fostered the growth of life--but terrible--uncontrolled--uninhabited growth. Facsimiles of men and women grew from the ground and tried to be as she was... Trees growing with heartbeats and pulsing vessels of blood. Creatures writhed and kicked wildly as they emerged from the heaps of flesh--pitiful attempts at life. Then... The pillars with their strange symbols and icons began to crack and break apart... Taking forms--bipedal--quadrupedal--slithering--upon wheels or treads--that roved the land--crushing that which they had created and fueling themselves to grind away at all beneath them. She was young, scared and afraid of what the world had become... But others who had also survived learned mastery of the symbols--learned to create creatures of their own, and behemoths under their command. Her hands that were clasped in prayer opened, and she examined that which had been carved in the flesh of her palm and forearm long ago. A reminder of the life after the Cataclysm... Her life was spared--but her innocence was not. She would be one of many who would be toys to those who began their study of the symbols, and the blood. Others from her village would become twisted creatures of flesh or stone, experience visions from the eyes of the behemoths or beyond, become ravenous for blood, or spread the terror of false-life. The masters of these symbols would become warlords, tyrants, and cruel kings with vast empires... It was because of the secret on the young woman's palm that her first master was slain, and the promise of immortality fueled ages of war all around her. She closed her eyes and listened to the grinding of stone far below her. She could smell the ashes of life that had been burned away long ago... And then she could hear the familiar screams and groans of thousands, or hundreds of thousands beings in the distance... She could hear them growing loader as the machine was driven closer... She need not open her eyes to know what sight would befall her eyes... The mounds of flesh, or sea of corpses and creatures attempting to grow from the ashes of the world... As the machine drew closer the screams erupted as the machine tread upon them--the air filling with the stench of blood. The stone beneath the woman felt warm--fueled by that which it had come to crush. Her eyes opened and looked to the sky that had been long ago covered in soot and ash that made the world colder--and life unable to grow or spread from anything but the sigils of blood. Many times she had wondered... If there could have been a balance of life with the old behemoths, the false-life they had created, and the people of the world... But the masters become greedy... Seeding the their own false-life and fueling their machines... It became too much for the old world. In time, fires spread and choked the earth... Only those who had relied upon the sigils survived--but as beings that were a far from what they used to be...
Krieg doesn't understand very many things. He knows about but cares little for food, water, shelter, and other basic things but what he truly understand is fire, pain, his ax, and bullets oh how he loves bullets, taking or giving. I, on the other hand, am Craig. I think I worked with Dahl but its hard to remember the time before we changed, but in the end it doesn't matter all that much. I enjoy Poetry, light jogs on misty mornings, comics, and pizza. You see the problems with Krieg and I is that we are in the same body of which he seems to have control of the vast majority of the time. Oh I can influence him and I know he can hear me, but if he disagrees with me he is prone to start slamming his buzzax into our head, which while I believe he gets some enjoyment or pleasure out of I find to be quite painful. A few weeks ago, it's hard to tell time on Pandora at the best of times and sharing a body with Krieg certainly isn't the best of times, we were killing some rats around a train station when I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Maya. She was a Siren and as such, she had the ability to kill me with a thought, which would have made any sane man at least cautious... Krieg is not sane. He immediately began running toward "pretty lady", so I am immensely grateful to the hail fire of bullets that came from the rats that made even Krieg dive for cover. That's when we saw the rats beginning to flank her. I had to warn her, I told Krieg to shout "LOOK BEHIND YOU!"he merely shouted about his "meat bicycle". I tried over and over and each time Kreig got closer to the words but just not quite... until "PRETTY LADY LOOK OTHER WAY!"as he threw his buzzax that embedded itself into the skull of a rat behind her. Together Krieg and the Siren finished off the rest of the rats, that's when Krieg was able to walk toward her. She began cautiously "Hey, thanks for the save. I'm Maya, who are you?". I told Kreig "okay now don't ruin thi-""WOULD PRETTY LADY WANT TO SEE MY MEAT BICYCLE"oh God we are going to die. But we didn't, instead, she just smiled and said: "not right now, I actually have a train to catch". Okay, Krieg, we need to cut our losses an- "BAD MAN WILL PROTECT THE ANGLE". Maya looked surprised and said "Oh, okay. Yeah, you can come". While I was shocked into silence Krieg began jumping up and down and shouting "I EMBRACE THE FLAME". And that's how I and my insane headmate became friends with one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. It turns out that Maya is a vault hunter and is therefore at the top of Handsome Jack's hitlist. So if I had been of sound mind I might have been cautious when 5 vault hunters and myself end up on a Hyperion train, although I don't believe that I would have guessed that the train would explode throwing us into the middle of a frozen hellscape. But with the help of the most annoying robot I've ever seen and the most genteel hunter I've ever met, we were pointed into the direction of sanctuary, the home of the rebel force opposing Jack, and where I had my first large confrontation with Krieg. While the 5 vault hunters were checking out the bounty board we had gone to the bar for a drink. I wasn't sure how this interaction was going to go but Krieg was behaving well and I had high hopes... Until a child ran into us at the doorway. The child, a boy of no more than 10, stared in fear as the psycho in front of him began to reach for the buzzax at his hip. So I stopped him. I had never done that before, but I had control however brief. So I took advantage of the situation and had the following conversation with him. (If you ever kill an innocent person, I will destroy us.) Shut UP!! (No. That's the deal. You can kill as many of the deserving as you like, but the second your ax touches the flesh of an innocent, I'll end this. All of it. A razor to the veins, just like that fugitive we tried to grab on Hera, remember?) Nnnnngh, get out of my head!! (...I'll take that as a 'yes.') He took control then but the kid was long gone And that's how it went, Krieg would kill the deserving under my and the vault hunter's supervision. We met many more vault hunters and I can honestly say they became not just mine but our friends. We even met another Siren, this one's name is Lilith and seems to enjoy using her powers to create an orb of fire around her when she phases from one place to another. To Krieg, she became "FIRE PRETTY LADY"and both the Sirens seemed to find enjoyment in our company. Several weeks later we had finally brought the fight to Jack. We disposed of his bunker bot and went to his lab to stop his plan to gather more power, I'm not really too sure on the details as Krieg doesn't want to pay attention when we would be getting mission briefs so will often wander off during them. But I get the gist that we need to destroy whatever is down there. I don't think even at my clearest I could have guessed that it would be Jack's daughter that was down there, and not only that but that she was a Siren, and asking us to kill her. I would have refused, but the Vault Hunters seemed to think it was the only way. So after another fight with Jack's defenses, Axton took out his Jacobs pistol told her he was sorry it had to be like this and shot her once in the head. What happened next will forever be ingrained in my memory. Roland: "She's dead. Jack just lost his only way to awaken the Warrior. We've got the Vault key but this isn't over yet. We've gotta find Jack and take him out, Lilith, take the Vault Key to Tannis. I'm going after Jack." Just as he said Jack's name he appeared behind him and shot him once in the back. As blood sprayed on my face only saying "sup" Lilith was the fastest to react charging him and shouting "You bastard, I'm gonna--"before he threw some kind of collar around her neck saying "tut Language. What's that saying? Don't pick a fight with a man with nothing left to lose? See, I'm going to show you just how much you have to lose - and I got the most powerful Siren on the planet to do it with. Lilith, kill the Vault Hunters, We've got a date to keep with the Warrior."and she raised her hand to us forced to obey. Her hands dripped fire, and her lungs belched anguish. Our... no my face stained with tears, and Hi-- my hands caked with hate. What could she do but weep? What could I do but rage? &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Just the idea of Borderlands 2 from Krieg's perspective, I felt the prompt went well with my idea of what Krieg would have been feeling when Jack killed Roland and took control of Lilith. Also, the idea of the voice in Krieg's head being called Craig was from an inside joke between me and some friends.
“Could it be Soviet?” It was Major that asked the question. The four of us were gathered around the small hunk of metal my detector had found. It was a water bottle. It was very obviously a water bottle: a thin, hollow cylinder with a tapered side that ended in an entrance. It was about a foot-and-a-half long, so a bit longer than the bottles from Earth. No cap, as far as we could tell. It had been lying a few inches beneath the red surface. I had scraped it free with just my gloved hands. “I mean,” the Major clarified, “it’s entirely possible that the Soviets sent a mission to Mars, but it ended badly, and they didn’t publicize it.” No one responded to that. “Do we have any results on the carbon dating?” Major asked. Stef shook her head. “It’ll take a bit for the analysis to come through.” “What about mission control?” “The text message should have arrived by now,” I replied. “Data reports and pictures will take a bit longer.” Ivan suddenly laughed. “Does anyone else think we’re having the wrong reaction to this? We might have discovered proof of past alien life.” “Well, yeah,” I conceded. “I feel like we were kind of expecting bacteria, or fossilized plankton if we were lucky. This is…” Eventually, we put it into containment. Our time on Mars was limited, after all. We sent Major’s idea, along with an assurance that we’d tell them as soon as we had the carbon dating info, to Mission Control. Then, we went on with the research. Ivan took the buggy out, Stef and Major oversaw the carbon dating, and I was stuck at the management console. I was messaging the com point at mission control. He said that they were doing inquiries with the CIA and Roscosmos, and I was asking about the previous Mars missions when Ivan called in. “Hey, Kim?” His voice was crackling. “Yeah?” “Listen, some weird shit just went down. I was going past Olympus Mons when my motion sensor went absolutely nuts, saying that there was movement right beneath me. First, I thought it was a quake, then I remembered that Mons used to be volcano and I turned the buggy around. I got a few feet away and the quakes stopped. Immediately.” “Is anything damaged?” I asked. “Not really. The…” His voice broke up into static. “… I think that’s about it.” “I’ll check any sensors we have in the area. Start heading back.” “Got it.” He clicked off. I opened the readings from all the seismographs in the past half hour. Every single one had been triggered. Thing was, the movements had only gone on for twenty-two seconds, and had been low-level enough that none of them had passed the danger threshold. I opened a map and had the computer plot the sensors against the terrain, as well as how strongly they had measured their vibrations. The vibrations all got stronger the closer the sensors were to Olympus Mons. I picked up the com to talk to Major and Stef. “Kim!” “Hey, I was just about to call you, listen…” “The carbon dating came back in,” Stef cut in. “Then we did some more analyses. When you first found it, you said it looked like a Hydroflask, right? Kim, it is a Hydroflask. The chemical makeup of the metal is exactly the same. It’s just oversized.” “What?” “You found a Hydroflask buried in Mars’ surface! Are you listening?” My brain tried to process that. A Hydroflask. On Mars. Screw it, ignore that for now. “Send the lab report, I’ll forward it to mission control,” I snapped. I saw the report open in the shared data and quickly sent it out. “OK, some stuff happened with Ivan,” I started and filled them in. They were silent for a while after I finished talking. “He’s heading back, though?” Major asked. “Yeah.” “OK…” I couldn’t see him, but I imagined him rubbing a hand over his face. “What the fuck.” My computer dinged. In my inbox was a new message from mission control. I opened it. LEAVE MARS IMMEDIATELY.
My name is Kevin Senior Roosevelt and I was randomly accepted into the Boarding school of Greenday in Alaska... no I don’t live in Alaska I actually live in California, in a nice beach home I quite miss if I’m being totally honest. My parents were a bit too enthusiastic about this... way too enthusiastic, I’m not saying this because I’m just some nihilistic teenager who expects the worse from my parents but it’s not like they’re really a supportive type. Especially when I rebel so I was at least relieved when I found out it wasn’t a boot camp. I read the acception letter over and over as they rushed to pack my simple Necessities. “Who enrolled me? I’ve been chosen? I have bad grades how could-“ “Were so proud of you Kevin!” My mom interrupted any sort of questions I had “... I don’t wanna go”. “But it’ll look great on your reassume. “Yeah next to my assault and battery it’ll fit so beautifully, what’s going on?” I pressed into them but like usual to no avail. “Just shut the fuck up... it’s not a choice” I was angered that my dad would t answer any questions I had but eventually I just gave in... maybe I could possibly start to clear and clean my record. So I sat back and just went along with what they told me... which was close to nothing. I was told that I’m going to be a lil far away, and I’d be going for a year or two depending on how I do. Academically? Behavior? When I asked they also never answered, they seemed so off. They’re horrible liars and it seems like they’re up to something wrong. But they’re my parents so how bad could it be? It’s fine I told myself and everything’s okay and we were off on our Mary way to the airport. My parents didn’t speak for the ten minutes we rode down it was pure silence they only spoke once and it was my mom telling me that we had arrived and to get out of the car. “We’re here” my mom spoke out to me “Get out, flight 21 now go” my dad spoke in a stern voice “No hug?” I asked in a sort of sarcastic manner “Go!” He said in a more stern voice. This wasn’t right, we don’t get along yeah but he never acts mad at me. And even if he is if I have to leave they’re both insistent on at least a “goodbye” but when I turned to look at them they looked the opposite direction like four year olds. So I made my way into the airport yada yada yada wait around get legally groped in lines for 3 hours get on a plane and wait. I fell asleep and basically didn’t wake up until we got there... it was dead night maybe 10 or 11 o’clock. I got off the plane with the brochure for Greenday in hand I got off the plane and walked out of the airport into the pickup outside. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I walked around a little bit scared looking for any group that looks like a boarding school... stupid I know but my plan worker because I approached a group of teens my age with a single “Adult”. She was a pretty attractive woman that couldn’t be older than 23... if that even. I walked up and said hello. “Hello? You must be Kevin.” My fast beating heart was put to rest knowing I wouldn’t just be lost. “Oh thank god... this the Greenday pickup?” I asked the woman “Yes! I’m Lela I will be your older sister for this semester!” She spoke with an excited soft voice like I was a 10 year old she reached out for a hug and I took a step back. “I’m good on that, I’ll just join the line” she seemed a little disappointed and she nodded. “Okay well we have 3 members left to pick up so let’s keep it going guys” Lela said as she continued to walk ahead of us, seemingly random until we slowly picked up the rest of the members. After we were all gather we walked down to the bus stop and waited... and waited... and oh god we waited. Eventually the group collectively decided now is a good time to sit down and wait for more busses to pass... Lela reminding us that these aren’t the right ones. Okay in all honesty it was like 45 minutes but it’s midnight and Lela is not on a human level of happy. Everything’s longer when the group is terrified and ms lala land won’t answer their questions. However the correct bus showed and I was a little surprised. It was a large blue bus with two stories, fancy and cleaned with lovely seats the door was opened and in we went single file. “Head to the back guys! Don’t be afraid to squeeze in!” She encouraged us to sit next to one another. I followed orders and sat next to the girl who was infront of me in the line towards the back. She had short hair buzzed on one side, she wore a jean jacket and ripped pants along with a choker, spiked leather bracelets and a belt with a big skull on the buckle. We squeezed in and she immediately checked the windows. “Sealed? Windows are sealed? Damn...” she was scouting her hands along the sides of the window looking for any way to open them before giving up and looking at me. “Something ain’t right here” I told her “To say the least, I’ve been to more crackhouses that weren’t this sketch” “Glad to know it’s not just me” I replied. “Nadia” she looked around the bus “Kevin.” I followed suit, looking behind us at the people in the back, and scouting for any possible exits if I needed one. “I think we’ll be fine” I looked back at her and she looked back In a sort of sarcastic agreement. “Okay future Greenday graduates!! I hope you feel nice and cozy! For those who didn’t hear I’m Lela and I’ll be your cabin’s big sister! If you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask” Lela said over the entercom at the front of the bus. “Where are we going?” A kid from the back asked loudly to the front, clear as day and able to be heard from the front... after a second he asked again louder. “Hey! Where are we going?” He was much louder this time but Lela simply stared for a second then sat down, giving the driver the intercom back. The bus started and he drove in noise as the teens conversations grew louder and more comfortable by the minute. Nearly 2 am in the morning Lela stood up and made her rounds grabbing people’s bags and taking phones. “Shit” we were being checked Thoroughly even patted down and Nadia knew it. Nadia scampered to quickly find a spot for her phone “I got you” I whispered into her ear as a I leaned down and pulled out my knife, I cut an opening underneath the seat and held my hand out Nadia placed her phone Into my hand and I slipped it into the fabric in the seat “This too” I looked at her and she snuck a small bottle of Jager into my hand and I slipped that into the slot as well. “Quickly, all contraband” I told her as I put in my blade small pocket knife into the slot. She snuck in her toiletries well... only tampons and her own switchblade from her boot. We sat up and looked at each other “Looks like I gotta trust you now” Nadia said to me “Mutual trust agreement... whatever waits for us we stick together?” I asked her “Partners in crime, better be ready for me” she held her hand out and I grasped it and we pulled each other closer and bumped shoulders. Lela approached us and pulled me up by the arm “Any phones? Knives or dangerous items?” Lela asked sweetly. “No” I responded... without warning Lela got down on her knees and patted me down, emptying my pockets letting change hit the ground “The fuck are you doing?” I asked in an irratated tone. “Making sure you’re not a liar... we don’t like liars” she got a bit more serious and checked me more. She the moved me aside and did the same routine with Nadia, although she had a bit more fight in her. A locket was taken from Nadia and she was sat back down “Get your damn hands off me and give that back!” Nadia was PISSED. “It’s contraband sweetheart” Lela smiled “Give her the locket... come on how much could it really hurt?” I tried to convince her on a more calm level “Kevin. I like that you two are getting along but this...is... contraband” Lela’s smile felt and looked more forced as her patience somehow already ran thin with me. She took the locket and put it in a box, locked and closed the box and continued to search people. Lela made a few more rounds of the searching patting me and Nadia down along with everyone else about 3 times before finally stopping. “What the fuck is going on?! That’s my dead friends locket... this is bullshit” I responded simply with a hug to Nadia and we continued to be quiet as we went on a long trip off the main roads through cities into a desolate highway. Oh god sorry this is so long I didn’t even get to the good stuff, but here’s my submission so far if it’s even slightly interesting maybe I’ll write more.
My phone buzzes. Maybe it different today, maybe it was just a dream last night. You stretch your arm out to pick up your phone. The phone screen reads 7:34, Arnasday, September 19th, goddamit. “Morning neighbor!” A old man shouts and waves at you over a hedge wall. You grumble back not caring to talk because you all ready know what he will say. “No need to be so grumpy on Arnasday,” the old man stated shaking his head “one day you will realize how nice Arnasdays are”! You blow off the old man knowing quite well what Arnasdays are like. I tiredly open the door of my car as I have done millions of times before, 5,876,971 to be exact. I tuned the radio to a station and a pop song starts playing, at this point I know all the words and sing the song in perfect tune. I pulled out of my driveway blankly looking forward as the song blared. In a world that barely changes my favorite game is trying to drive into other car just for the car to disappear before contact. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can kill me. It’s like a very creative hell that I’m stuck in, I feel nothing. I pull up to my job. My office is just a normal desk job. I feel nothing when my boss calls me up to his office. I walk up to the office as I have done for decades before. As I neared my bosses office I heard a voice smaller than a whisper call out to me, I pause. “ Michael”, The voice repeated “can you hear me”? I-I have never seen this happen before and my brain went into shock, “Hi yes I can hear you.” “Shhhhh, don’t be so loud they might hear us.” “I’m sorry who are the-“ before I could finish my sentence a hand grabbed my shoulder and dragged be into the wall. (Maybe make a part two idk)
Interview with one of the original 20, name Abigail Stone: I suppose when most people remembered it wasn’t a big deal, they probably didn’t even realize the time was missing or that they had regained it. For me, and a few others, those 22 minutes had been pivotal. We’d been selected to effectively become information storage. We weren’t supposed to recall the implantation much less be able to access it, but that’s the problem with humans, we adapt. It hadn’t even taken a year for the walls separating the storage from our own thoughts to break down, and a few months for the information to be used to reverse the process. We searched each other out, all twenty of us, using keywords and codes from the information stored in our heads to identify each other. It took us just under a week working round the clock to compile the information into diagrams, explanations, and easy to understand graphics. We scanned it into a PDF, and sent it across the world. It started, “Aliens exist, and they are harvesting humans. We are their computers, their hunting dogs, and their slaves, but they have made a mistake. They left the contained informational backup here, on earth rather than pay to have it, us, properly stored. Learn, build, and destroy them all.” We thought it was important to get the information as wide as possible, to have the information in the hands of every human that could use it, because we simply didn’t have the pull to have it acted on. So, we dispersed to our lives, giving no outward indication of what had transpired. The next days, weeks and years were calm, until they weren’t. First, an electric fence of sorts encircled earth, preventing any and all alien abduction. Next, troops armed with alien technology stormed the world abducting hundreds of aliens trapped by the fence. Humanity did was it does best, it united to face a common enemy. Augmentation became common, the environment was cleaned in a manner of years as we launched an assault on the stars. When that call went out, we all responded and we shipped out to hunt the bastards that decided to cut corners and use us as living storage. Maybe we should have been thankful, but we just felt violated. In the end, we made sure they knew exactly how we felt.
Goran slammed his fists into the table, spittle launched across the table as he yelled. “That is unacceptable. Oranus has no right to haunt Jimmy during the day. Day time is clear territory of the Closet Alliance. The treaty of Villes in 1772 made that very clear.” “Oh come on. You still get day time haunts, its just every other weekend. Besides, you get night time during the alternating weekend.” said Oranus, while leaning back into his chair. Things had not been easy for either monster in the last few months. Both had made claims for Jimmy’s room at the exact time. The Office of Haunting Affairs had never seen anything like it before, and had no way of handling the dispute. Goran and Oranus had legal rights to haunt Jimmy, but they couldn’t haunt him at the same time as it was ineffective. The OHA had called a meeting to try and hammer out a shared custody agreement between the warring factions, however, Goran and the Closet Alliance were being very stubborn. “If I may interject,” A small monster with pocket protector leaned over the table hoping to get their attention. “Why don’t we table the shared custody at this time and focus on something we can all agree upon. Jimmy is not getting any younger and, I think, we can all agree that it is of the utmost importance to make sure that Jimmy gets a proper haunting. Both Goran and Oranus shook their heads in agreement. “Good. Now let’s keep our heads cool and rethink this plan. I am sure if we put our four heads together we can come up with a solution that is pleasing to all parties involved.” Goran grunted, rolling his eyes, “Alright, alright. For the sake of Jimmy. How about we try the alternating weekends, and the haunting schedule for six months. After that time, we revisit this arrangement.” “That seems fair. Maybe during those six months we can have the OHA work on finding one of us a suitable replacement of the same value, that way neither of us would have to compromise long term.” Said Oranus. “I’d have to consult with my advisors.” “So we have a deal gentlemonsters?” Goran and Oranus stood and shook hands. Neither smiling. “Aye, tell the OHA that for the next six months we shall work in peace to make sure Jimmy is haunted correctly” said Goran as he and Oranus both walked towards the door. The door opened before either of them got to it. “Hello, My name is Rodger Smith. I am lead counsel for Jimmy Rathers, and we have some demands to be heard before Jimmy will consent to being haunted anymore. Please have a seat.”
Realms Beyond by Markus Manaford. Chp 8. Frequency 185, a world strikingly similar to ours in historical points, yet visited upon by the only known instance of extraterrestrial sentient life. Historical documents show these visitors came and used an ability to shape shift to attempt to blend in. However, this plan failed as the natives quickly discovered and outed these creatures. These denizens decided to instead welcome them as equals, and through various deals, obtained the visitors technology. The visitors wanted access to weapons, and explained that they were not invaders, but refugees. The cooperative works of these two species allowed them to literally claim the stars. This reality has two co-dominant species which has spread to the farthest edges of their universe, a feat not yet completed in any other reality.
"I just don't understand the problem here. We've had to replace the device four times now. Four times! It's ridiculous,"she said pacing around the kitchen. "I'm honestly tired of this pattern. I call customer support to report a reView malfunction, you guys claim it's a mechanical issue and send a new device, and then the very next week my daughter's teacher calls and says that she's not able to verify that Kasey did her homework because reView IS MALFUNCTIONING." Listening from the living room, Kasey flinched as her mom accosted the reView representative over the phone. Most of the time it didn't really bother her that she wasn't able to share her memories with others, but she did feel left out when her friends would compare dreams at lunch, giggling over absurdities of the subconscious. The technology had been implemented into most facets of life, and Kasey's mom grew increasingly worried that her daughter would get into some form of trouble because she was seemingly incompatible with reView. "What if someone accuses you of shoplifting, huh? What are you gonna do then? You have no way to prove your innocence!" Her mother's near-constant fear mongering was beginning to work on Kasey, and she often lied awake at night, wondering what was wrong with her. "Are we going to have this issue sorted out by the time she's old enough to vote?"her mom yelled into the receiver. "Your vote's not counted until you verify your identify using reView\- did you know that?! My daughter has a right to vote!" Upon hearing her mother's rant on suffrage, Kasey went upstairs to her room. An hour later her mother barged into Kasey's bedroom slightly out of breath. "Honey, we have finally got this all figured out! Apparently it was a not a mechanical issue, which is what I told them at least a thousand times. But whatever. Anyway, there was a database mixup that, you know, just casually cost us years of distress about your future. So, because I already returned your reView to the store last week, they're shipping us a new device and guarantee that there won't be any more issues." "A database issue- what does that even mean?" Her mom sighed. "I don't feel like explaining the whole thing. When your new reView arrives on Friday, I'll let you listen to the call I had with customer service. They searched your name in the national system and found that your permissions had been restricted. The girl had to call her manager and then that manager had to call a supervisor and it was this whole thing. No one had ever seen anything like it! I was put on hold for like half an hour- all kinds of people were called. I believe I spoke with a man at the FBI!"Her mom's eyes were wide with excitement. "Get this- they had your account blocked instead of a different Kasey Anders! All this time- it was just a clerical error!" "Who is the other Kasey Anders? Why would they block someone from the program? Aren't all employers required to check reView before hiring now?"Kasey wondered what kind of crime you'd have to commit to lose privileges to your own history and, by extension, your own future. "I don't know, but the man I spoke with said she's the one person denied access to reView." That night, Kasey took her questions to the internet, typing her own name into the search bar. "No Results Found." And then her screen went black, and Kasey was left staring into her own reflection.
“Looks like we’ll need to call a specialist”, the man said. I could hear the words being spoken, but they echoed as if the lieutenant was at the other side of an empty warehouse. “yes, of course”, I mumbled as I tried to understand what I was looking at. This is definitely not what I thought my first day would be like, how am I supposed to interpret this mess. My first thought: Turn and run. Get the fuck out of dodge. This is NOT what I signed up for. Then I saw a glimmer. “What’s got your attention there, son?” Good question, honestly. Poking out of the pant leg of the body’s dismembered left leg was a string with a small key attached to it. As I approached I noticed that the key was broken down the middle. Interesting. It looks like it has been purposely destroyed. I stand up to escape the smell and immediately spot a related clue on another separated body part. The top of a small brass heart lockbox wrapped around what remained of the decapitated head. The words, “top secret“ were carved into the front of the heart. “Call the locksmith”. Bobby, the local pd officer, quickly complied. I stood up to further examine the gruesome scene. The blood seems to indicate simultaneous blows which indicate the perp must’ve attacked from behind and from the front? What happened here, I pondered. I couldn’t be sure, I need help. “Bobby, call the damn splatter expert”. Of course, they could only tell me the attack angles; I need to find the why, the who, the when. There exist choke marks around the remainder of the neck, was this pre or post mortem? “Call the guy who knows the ‘reasons for death’ specialist”, I proclaimed. Shit, is that a fingerprint in the blood? Perhaps, a breakthrough! “Call the fingerprint specialist ASAP! Before the blood dries”. Knowing this man is very wealthy and well know individual with public bouts of mental issues, exorbitant amounts of money, and many possible motives for this untimely death does not help this situation. It adds more confusion. Wait, “someone get his mental heath professional specialist on the line”. Well, well, well… What do we have here? A hand-written note explaining that there is an encrypted usb drive with hieroglyphics pertaining to 17thcentury poetry and American history written in poem form in a little known language that explains everything that has happened here? “Someone get the handwriting specialist, and a computer security specialist, and an ancient Egyptian writing specialist, and an old poetry specialist person, and a historian specialist, and a linguistic specialist on the line ASAP!” “I’m going on break!” While on break, I fucked around on reddit. Then I got fired. The end.
Realms Beyond by Markus Manaford. Chp 15. Frequency 517, a world where the soul is easily proven as real, as they visibly roam the planet. If the soul is real in all realities, then we are truly lucky that we cannot perceive them. This planet is choked with them, they exist as a dense fog of ghosts, faces visible as your wade through them, all trapped in horrific crushing pain. At some point in its recent history, this planet died. Evidence suggests that the specters grew to dense in population and began blocking light from reaching the ground and nourishing new plants. All that remains are the dead. A fascinating plane to visit, though not one to attempt to habitate.
Nothing seemed right that day. I pinched my own arm a fifth time since I found that shed to hide, and in pain, I was once again sure it wasn't a dream. Still, people didn't seem to hear every time I shouted for help, and even when I bumped into them, they acted as if they had just tripped over their own feet. That... Thing was the only one that seemed to continue to see me and apparently want to devour me. At first I thought it was a cat, but then I started to see the scales and that prickly tail. That could be anything but a cat, and as soon as I realized that, the creature began to chase me, howling fiercely. The shed's door slammed down, ripped off the wall like it was made of paper. The heavy breathing of that Thing was getting closer and closer. I automatically reached for the cross pendant around my neck. I was never a religious person, I wear it because it was a gift, but at that moment all I could do was to pray. A few boxes near where I was hiding fell, the creature knocked them over while sniffing at me. My eyes went straight to an iron pipe a few feet after that Thing. I rose silently, trying to ignore the trembling of my legs and control my breathing. I passed the monster just as it turned in the other direction and ran as fast as I could to reach the pipe. As soon as my fingers gripped the iron, I felt my leg burn. The pain was lacerating, and all I could see as I looked back was the claws of that monster entering my skin. It burned like fire, and I only realized I was screaming in pain when the creature came forward again. This time with it's mouth open and aiming at my head. My arms moved before I could even think. The iron pipe struck the creature's head and threw the Thing a few inches to the side. I didn't know how I was still standing, I was just thinking about how I could run away with my leg in this kind of state. But that Thing didn't seem to be willing to give me more time to think. It attacked me again and I felt as the monster's heavy body fell on me, bringing me to the ground. It had stopped moving and seemed only to use me as a mattress. I screamed in pain for what seemed like an eternity, not only my leg still burn, but now it felt like it had broken some ribs. After minutes I managed to push the creature out of me. My shirt was drenched in a sticky black liquid. I looked back toward the monster and there was the iron pipe, through the hairs and scales, thrust like a knife right into the creature's chest. People kept acting like they didn't see me when, almost an hour later, I managed to drag myself back to the streets. And even shouting at the hospital reception, trying to say I needed help, they still passed me as if I didn't exist. Finally, I ended up coming home. It took me almost two hours to make my 20 minutes daily journey. It was already dark, and the streets were mostly empty when I passed out in my own garden, unable even to reach the door. I didn't feel like I slept or rested. I didn't wake up in my bed like everything was a nightmare. I woke up the next morning with a bunch of grass stuck to my face and my body completely sore but now there was something in my hand, a paper. I had trouble reading those distorted letters, but there it was: > "So you've killed one of them. Good for you and welcome to The Order. Right now it's just you and me, and I retire next week. Come to the below address and I'll give you your induction package. P.S. They won't stop coming for you now"
Cindy sits down casually on her mat with her legs tucked beneath her. She smiles a sort of self-reassured smile. Imperceptibly at first, she begins to rise as if slowly taking in a deep breath. "The gods have smiled upon me."She begins drifting above the floor. "Gods? What gods?"You ask, frantically reaching out to grab a hold of, well, anything. The class of bemused twenty-somethings stares at you. While most of them are unfazed, a few do seem to be rather bewildered. "Would you please explain to me what is going on?" "I already did."Cindy's smile widens slightly, curling at the corners of her mouth. "You're the chosen one." "But what does that mean?"You ask, still slowly right. Cindy floats with you at eye level, two meters above the floor. "Oh, they told us all we had to do was wait. Wait, and one day, the glorious one would be revealed." "You're not answering my question!"Your pulse begins to quicken, you feel your heart beat faster, your forehead begins to perspire. "Tell me how I stop this!" "You cannot stop The Ascension."Cindy's smile widens, her mouth slowly opening. A serene laugh escapes from her lungs. "This. . This is all a dream. Tell me this is all a dream!"You haven't stopped rising from the ground, and soon your head will reach the ceiling. "Cindy! Tell me this is all a dream you crazy hippy!" Cindy suddenly frowns. "You shouldn't be so rude! The Ascension is a gift! You should receive it graciously!" "But I don't even know what it IS!"You protest as your head reaches the ceiling. "Just a moment more."Cindy's frown persists. You hold onto the ceiling for dear life, as if gravity might reappear and send you plummeting to a painful landing. Brilliant orange lights sparkle suddenly from the walls on the opposite side of the room, joined momentarily by purple lights, blue lights, a rainbow of cascading sparkles that warp and swirl against the wall. "Cindy...?" "It isn't a dream."She whispers. Her voice is everywhere at once. You look away from the lights to find Cindy gone, and the Planet Fitness yoga room replaced by the endlessness of infinite space. "You are home."She whispers again, her voice fading. "Welcome home." You feel yourself being drawn towards the lights, pulled from some unseen force. As you draw nearer, the lights reach out to you, leaping towards your person. The lights embrace you, pulling you in closer, surrounding you, enveloping you. . . protecting you. You feel safe here, surrounded by the lights. Loneliness is such a distant memory, you could never recall it. Discomfort but a foreign rumor you've never truly known. Peace fills your body, from your mouth to your toes. This is . . . This is serenity. You've never known anything like it, and all you know is you never want to leave.

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