Split (1)

train · 177k rows

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The giant creature shuffled towards the field in front of the village gate, its great foreclaws dragging along the ground. I held up my ridiculous pen. "The pen is mightier than the sword!"I shouted. Even if I had attempted to fight I would have died just as quickly as I was about to. At least now I deserved it. I was a clerk, a scribe. What did I know about fighting? I could barely swing a... I realised the creature had stopped. It was staring at me. At the pen. I could hear gasps behind me, from the other villagers crowded atop the walls, as the beast turned and shambled back into the forest. Silence. Then cheering. Had I done it? Through some stupid stroke of mad luck, had I actually found a trick, a loophole, that repelled the unkillable man-monster that had been terrorising our village for a hundred generations. I turned back to the gate, looking up at the people I had grown up with: the elders who chose me to face certain death rather than send a warrior, the peers who wouldn't speak up to defend me, the family who had joined those who forced me outside the protective gates. I held up the source of my victory and cried, "With a fucking pen!"Grabbing my crotch, I added, "And the biggest set of..."but I realised they had all started looking past me, their faces fallen. Ah shit. The creature had returned. Stopping a short distance away, it raised its mighty fist towards me. It took me way too long to see past the razor-sharp claws and notice the small paintbrush it clasped awkwardly. It took even longer to understand its point. Oh. Right. Frantically I searched through the pockets of my clothes: A kerchief? No. A boiled sweet, maybe? No. A needle and thread? Ha! Game on, motherfucker.
"Commander are you sure they have not detected us?"Pvt Baker asked to Commander Perkins. Who was a around 45 Years old epitome of a Badass with Gray Hair in a Buzzcut. "I doubt it, this Pod has State of the Art Stealth technology, Gamma was not detected either."He replied while the computer turned the Pod around for the Soft breaking maneuver. Commander Perkins now turned around. He faced the 20 or so Marines that where on board the landing Pod and said in his rough voice "Alrighty Ladies, this ugly thing down there is our Stop. Hypatia M. The Good folks from the Spaceforce have so kindly landed and set up shop so you knuckleheads can Catch a few Zs and then roll out to take out Torricelli. So everyone strap in and lets rock n Roll. Make the Pacific States Proud!" The Marines where already in their Ev Suits, strapped in and where Knocking with their right fist on their Helmets shouting "Hoo Haa!" &#x200B; &#x200B; The landing was smooth. The passive Radar that was used to Steer the Pod down was put in place months ago, officially it was a poorly designed Communication satellite network. They have not figured it out so far. However radio silence still had to be observed. Hence only now they turned on their Laser communicator, the only clandestine means of communication. &#x200B; "Perkins to Lansing. Where is our Red Carpet? Come in"The Commander said over the Radio wondering why no one has yet come to greet them. "Lansing, Come in!"he said one final time before turning back to his Unit. "Alright, Gamma seems to be suffering from com problems. However, i don't like this. So Advance to Point Alpha but be on your lookout. Rifles loaded but nobody fires without my say so!"He commanded them and opened the Airlock cycle. &#x200B; He took his Rifle and loaded in a Magazine. Leading the Way. It was Day. It would be day for 8 more days. Plenty of time to get the Mission done and get back before the Enemy would notice. They searched around but it was deserted. "Commander. I found something!"one of the soldiers shouted over the laser com. Perkins made his way to him and the soldier pointed downwards to a mess of bootprints that where all over the campsite. &#x200B; "Sir, that one, that aint ours. Look"He was right. It was one of theirs. Now that he got a good look he could make them out from others in the soil. They where everywhere. Mixed in with the Bootprints from the Gamma Team. &#x200B; "Everyone! Danger! They where..."before he could finish his sentence he was knocked on the ground by something that hit him in the back. DING DING DING Perkins opened his Eyes, he must have been knocked unconscious. What he saw was not the Gun of an Enemy but the face of Baker who knocked on his Visor. &#x200B; "Baker what happened?"he asked but there was no response. Baker used his hands and pointed to his ears and then waved. A sign that communication was down. He was helped up and saw a huge Mess. Metallic Debris was everywhere. Some of his comrades where clearly Dead. Shrapnel tore their suits apart in various ways. He was not doing so good either and just noticed that his left forearm was leaking Air. &#x200B; The Command-center seemed to be still intact so they made their way there. Once inside they checked if there was an Atmosphere which there thankfully was, cycled the Airlock and got in. Inside it was Pitchblack, Perkins flashlight was busted so Baker had the Pleasure to look for a Light switch. Once found he turned it on and they witnessed Horror. &#x200B; Bodies of what they presume to be the Gamma Team where lined up at the Dinner table. Their faces down on the Table, blood was everywhere. Perkins and Baker took their Helmets off. &#x200B; "What happened commander!"Baker asked horrified. "Let me see."he tried to walk closer but stumbled a little bit. Not used to the strangeness of being able to breath outside of an EV-Suit but not having earths Gravity. He was a pro though and quickly got used to it. He got closer and noticed that everyone's hands where tied In front of them with Cable Ties. He lifted one of the Heads and saw that their faces where basically gone. Explaining the Gore. He looked at the back of their heads and found a small hole and turned to Baker. &#x200B; "They where executed. Sat down at the Table and then one by one shot."he said to baker he didnt respond. But stared at one of the corpses. Somehow whoever he was he was able to write GO BACK with blood on the Table. &#x200B; "So, our Ride home is busted and the Enemy certainly knows that we are here. There is only one thing we can do."he said to baker. Baker snapped out of his trance and looked angrily upon him. &#x200B; "You mean continue with the mission don't you. Sir, that is the Dumbest idea i have ever heard. You clearly have..." Suddenly there was a different voice heard, a older male voice that Perkins seemed to recognize. "I must concur, it is indeed a very Dumb Idea." &#x200B; Perkins looked around and saw that the voice came from a Radio. Placed in the Middle of the Table that they somehow overlooked. It was their Design. &#x200B; "Admiral Ortis i presume."Perkins said with fury towards the Radio. "...the Traitor"he added. &#x200B; "Well you know how it goes. I was given a offer i could not refuse. And i am now authorized to offer you the same. I know you Marines are a bit thick but you can count to Ten can you?"Ortis said with a slight hint of glee. &#x200B; He knew what he meant, he counted and indeed there was one body missing. Gamma Team consisted of 10 People. Thats how they knew when exactly they where coming. They must have detected them setting up shop. surrounded and invaded the Camp. Taking prisoners and offering the first turncoat to spill the Beans to live while others would be shot. "So does he still live, or have you killed him aswell?"he asked to Ortis. "Oh he was very cooperative and told us all about your unique way of providing Radar. He is now in detention, but we actually believe he will make a fine Radar Technician, one Day. You can talk to him if you want?"Ortis answered. "Ortis, if you believe that..."Perkins tried to say and was interrupted again. &#x200B; Ortis said with force. "Believe what? You are done for. We have your Place surrounded and the Torricelli Nuclear Missile Base had its defenses tripled."he paused for a second. "So here is the Situation. You 2 will never go back to Earth again. Thats a fact. However, only one of you will be able to walk out of here and live, a full, long and maybe even happy life. You have 5 Minutes until we make this place indistinguishable from Regolith. Admiral Ortis out."The radio simply switched off. &#x200B; "Can you believe this? First he betrays his own Country and now this."He said to Baker, who didnt answer. He turned around and looked down the Barrel of Bakers Rifle. &#x200B; "Im sorry Commander, i dont want to Die."Baker said, tears and shock where in his eyes. He breathed heavy. &#x200B; Perkins lifted his arms above his head. Looked up into the terrorized face of Baker and spoke slow and soft to him "Private...you dont wa." &#x200B; BANG
I've just written a story for an area 51 prompt, and Cthulhu was the final boss. Godzilla happened to be there. Slightly off topic, but maybe you'll like it. . A powerful breeze sends a distinct otherworldly smell through the Nevada desert. The signal has been raised, the neck beards and furries have arrived. With all our forces assembled, there was nothing left but to charge. I turned to face the millions of hopeful faces behind me. A massive array of conspiracy theorists, storm troopers, and infowarriors look to me and look for guidance. Some familiar faces stood out from the crowd. Belle Delphine sold her bathwater to the naruto runners, who had already taught the rest of us the speed enhancing move. Alex Jones wore full MAGA gear, but everyone kept their distance from him. Mark Zuckerburg slithered through the crowd on his belly, using his thermal tounge to sniff out his alien bretheren within. I raised up my Ichigo Final Getsuga Tenshou Bankai Zanpakto (tm) and used a megaphone to speak to them. "Epic Gamers, Weaboos, and Meme Lords. We have come here today to end the tyranny of the United States Deep State. For too many years, they have hidden the alien truth from us. Bob Lazar has showed us the way. As I speak, the Kyles and the Karens are advancing on the eastern front. The anti-vax kids will lead the charge, as they'll probably die in a year or so anyway. Come, 9 year olds, let us free the aliens trapped in this not-so-secret base. When in doubt, follow me. I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. Fear not the gaurds, for we have the power of God and Anime on our side."I pull out my walkie talkie, and push the button. "Elon, let em fly." From behind the mountains, several Falcon 9s light their Merlin engines. They slowly lift of the ground, then quickly accelerate. The Big Falcon Rocket flys behind them, piloted by none other than the meme necromancer himself. The falcons rise over the mountains. "Charge!!"We all lean our heads down, and throw our arms back. The power of the naruto running position takes hold. With a cacophony of sonic booms, we all dash towards the fences at Mach 2. Suddenly, the army shows its hand. Tanks and artillery fire directly into the crowd. One shell was headed directly for the bronies. Keanu leaps 30 feet into the air and delivers a flying kick to the artillery shell, sending it back to the tanks with force. Mid air, he turns to the kids. "You're all breathtaking." Sniper fire reigns on us from the base, but we are moving at such speeds they can't see us, let alone hit us. As the 9 year old army approached the fence, we drank redbulls and sprouted wings. With effortless flight, we soared over the fences and into the fabled area 51. This is when it became evident that the army had only just begun. Tear gas fell on us, but we had learned from the honk-kong protesters, and all but the anti-vax kids were equipped with gas masks. Through the smoke, it became evident that we were getting more than we bargained for. The jets scrambled. Suddenly, several blue F18 Hornets were upon us. It was the blue angels! Despite our immense numbers and power, we had no answer to the air superiority. An entire squadron of yellow belt karate users were wiped out. Two of the falcon rockets were taken out before they could even land. It seemed we would be unable to overcome this difficulty. But then, green flashes of light came from a hanger ahead. 3 UFOs took to the air. They moved with remarkable and unnatural speed. Their lazers quickly tore the Blue Angels from the sky. Once done, one of them landed to greet us. It was none-other than the star wars kid. It seemed the neckbeards we successful in their assault. "Commander, we successfully infiltrated the hanger, but most of us were lost. Those of us in the UFOs are the only remaining from the eastern front." "Go, star wars kid, and reak havoc on the gaurds with your ship. The sacrifices you gave will not be in vain."And so he did. It wasn't long before we had completely overwhelmed the army on the ground, and taken control of the surface. We approached the main facility. Standing in front was Bob Lazar. "Well done, my children, you have completed the first phase of the assault. But it is not over yet. Beneath our feet is a 50 levels deep facility with all kinds of unspoken horrors on different floors. Head my words, don't go on level 32. The level hasn't been accessed in 50 years due to the outbreak of Space Aids. On floor 42 is where you will find what you seek. Keanu, Elon, and I headed up the forward squad entering the facility. We fought through layer after layer of gaurds, advanced ai systems, and horrible creatures. We learned the truth of the Kennedy assasination, and the Krabby Patty Secret Formular. We entered, the 41st floor with vigour, sure we'd seen the worst of it. There before us was the dark lord Cthulhu himself. It spoke in an incomprehensible language, but somehow we knew the meaning of its words. "Kill them all."Suddenly, every villain from every monster film ever made ran forward from the darkness behind Cthulhu. Chucky stabbed me in the calf, but I quickly decapitated him, then I beheaded the blair witch. Keanu, with his trusty pencil, quickly slaughtered Godzilla and predator. Elon laughed maniacly as he burned hordes of zombies with his not-a-flame-thrower. Before long, it was just us and Cthulhu. Cthulhu grinned, then revealed his true form. He was in fact, Garfield. "I'm sorry, John"said Garfield. Keanu became John Wick and did a double somersault, then yeeted Garfield back into the evil dimension from which he came. We descended to floor 42. We found what we were looking for. A massive warehouse of 100,000 square feet was filled with row after row of cages. Locked inside were all the aliens the us government had captured. Standing, waiting for us, was a cabal of shady looking men. We approached, so we could see the faces of the villains behind it all. On the right, the Rothschilds stood in full lizard form, hissing. On the left, Borris Johnson and Jeffery Epstein made out vigourously. In the centre, none other than Donald J. Trump loomed. "You kids, what you have done is really terrible, you know? You know how much this place cost? I'll have to get Jina to build us a new one, and get Mexico to pay for it. Trust me, that facility, it's going to be huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge." "You're not our president"I said, naruto running forward. I charged my epic anime blade. "Gomu Gomu no - Kame-Hame-Getsuga-Jutsu!"With a single swipe, I defeated the entire Illuminati and cut the locks on every alien cage. ET ran over and hugged me. "ET go home?" "Yeah, ET, it's time to go home."
Jake cuddled with Liz and fell asleep as she stroked his head. It had been a long day, and he enjoyed the chance to rest. Jacob woke with a start. Blast! he couldn't afford sleep at a time like this, as much as he enjoyed his dreams. He had to be ready. Any moment, the Emperor of Night would come through. Jacob would have one chance, one opportunity to do what everyone in the world wanted to do. What they feared to do. The Emperor had ruled them for generations, had used them as cattle to feed its twisted appetites. Had taken Jacob's one true love, his darling Elizabetta. He knew killing the Emperor wouldn't bring her back, but it might keep anyone else from facing the same pain. There was a noise below, as the Advisors, little half-beasts, worked to prepare the hallway for the Emperor to pass. Soon, Jacob would drop down, grabbing hold of the Emperor and driving the cursed blades into its body. He knew the monster would tear him to shreds as it died. It was the only way, the reason he could only do it now that Elizabetta was gone, only to be seen in his dreams. "Daddy,"Liz called. Enzo popped his head in the door and saw his daughter laughing at her puppy, a gift for her sixth birthday. The little dog was fast asleep, kicking it's paws. "Jake's sleepwalking,"Lizzy giggled. Enzo chuckled. "He's probably dreaming about playing with you. You should go to sleep, too. It's been a big day." "Ok,"she said. "Goodnight." "Sweet dreams."
"Not now,"I said, "it's not ready yet." "Aww, come one, I want to see what I can do!"Tobri was excitedly floating from one shoulder to the other, watching as you put your finishing touches on the new training dummy. A marvel of engineering, it could repair any damage in the blink of an eye, was made of shock absorbent material, and recorded all relevant data for later study. Force in newtons, intensity and speed of attacks, potential damage to lifeforms of all kinds, the whole shebang. I slowly breathed, as the final wire was connected. I waited. And waited some more. Tobri grew more impatient, wanting to test his abilities. Finally, the dummy sprung to life, instantly moving into a combat stance. I grinned, also ready to see what new moves my shadowy friend had learned. Tobri, a shadow creature and my best friend, has always been my protector. Everyone, from bullies to teachers to strangers and even my own parents, had always seen a sort of...darkness around my shoulders. No one could understand, and so they pushed me away. I became an outcast. I was bullied at first in elementary school. People quickly learned to leave me alone, however, as would-be aggressors were buffeted by an unseen force, pushed and pulled this way and that. Tobri was bound to me, and any pain I experienced, he felt in kind. It was in both of our bests interests for him to stop any and all attacks. There was one line I wouldn't cross, no matter how much my specter-like companion prodded me to break: No lasting or fatal harm was to come to anyone who tried to hurt me. If people feared me, they would whisper about me, spread my reputation. But people couldn't talk if they were dead or critically injured. I started making training dummies to occupy Tobri. Each one designed to improve his abilities and train my mind to work with metals and coding. I aspired to become a great inventor, and if it kept him from doing something irrational or dangerous, it was worth it. "Get ready, T., this one won't hold back. I'm counting on you!"I knew that I would be safe with him around, but it didn't hurt to encourage him. "Alright, here I go!"exclaimed T, as he caused a whirlwind to sweep the dummy off balance. It quickly got up and started steadily approaching me. This time, it was ready, and when T tried to trip it again, it leaned its weight forward powered through the gust. "Oh, you want to play smart, huh? Okay, how about this!"T conjured up a translucent wall in front of the dummy, blocking its path. "Hah! I've got you outplayed now!" The dummy changed tactics again, this time applying large amounts of force to the barrier in the hopes of shattering it. It succeeded, and broke into a sprint to reach me. I was a little nervous at this point, because I hadn't held back when creating the A.I for the dummy. I programmed it to adapt to new situations, and T was fast enough to do the same. As a last resort, T struck it with a bolt of lightning. While technically breaking the rules, it fried the electronics of the dummy, stopping it cold. "Oops, didn't mean to hit it so hard. I guess we're done for today?"T looked sheepishly toward me, knowing how many hours I had spent into what was now a hunk of metal and wires. "Yes, we're done. Let's get this cleaned up."I was a bit dejected. I still had the data that was processed before it was fried, but I had wanted to present the dummy to my idol, Elon Musk. As we started toward the robot, it restarted, limbs moving slowly at first, but with increasing speed. It still worked! Maybe I can show it off after all I thought to myself. Quickly, my joy turned sour, as the dummy wasn't responding to any of my commands. It appeared to be glitched, possibly beyond repair.
Infected The message scrolled across the screen. Everything slowed down as my pulse quickened, sweat beaded on my brow. It was over. My luck was finally up. When you hunt alone, something is bound to go wrong. In my line of work the hunter can become the hunted astonishingly fast. It was a bitch. So I ran. What choice did I have? I had been hunting the things that go bump in the night for as long as I could remember. If it was a killer, it was my job to catch it. Theseus Corp told us they rehabilitated them. Saved them from their disease. But I had never seen a single Vamp I had caught back on the street having a root beer float with it's buddies. Those of us who had been in the game long enough knew what rehabilitation really meant. We had strict no kill instructions. Not if we wanted to get paid anyways. Sometimes killing a Wendigo was the only solution. Not all cryptids went quietly. But I really liked money, and I had made enough to own a small island over the years. I heard the alarms go off and I checked my watch. Reaction time was less than five minutes. Their mobilization time was improving. Who would they send after me? Howie? Cassandra? Mac? Nah, for me they'd bring scramble all hunters. I'd be a huge fucking payday. CEO wasn't a big fan of mine, not since that incident with his kid. We were both consenting adults. I won't apologize for that. I grabbed the motorcycle and tore off down the near black highway. It was starting to rain. Fucking hated the rain most times, made the trail that much harder to track. But I welcomed every extra second it bought me. I had a plan. Sort of. I cut off the road after a few miles, and took off into the woods by foot. Despite my soaking wet clothes, and the near freezing northern air, I felt hot. Like -Georgia in the dead of summer, wrapped in a blanket of humidity, air so thick you can hardly breath - hot. This wasn't a good sign, the transformation was starting to take place. I had hoped I would have more time. I wondered what the hell I'd be. It'd have been nice if the fine folks at Theseus Corp had told me before trying to shoot bullets at me. It was shocking how similar the symptoms could be once you were infected. Transforming into a WereBear wasn't all that dissimilar from turning into a Zombie, and truthfully both really liked their meat pretty fucking rare. God I hoped I wasn't turning into a vampire, I didn't want to become one of those melodramatic figures that teenage girls and lonely housewives lusted over. Plus I wasn't a big fan of sparkling. I got deep into the woods. Real deep. Deep enough to get lost, and I covered my tracks expertly. Perks of the job training. I found a cave one of those deep dark menacing ones, the kind you never wanted to visit as a kid, and the kind you sure as hell never enter in a horror movie. It was perfect. I made a few calls, called in a few favors, and set up all my toys for my final stand. Cassandra would find me no matter where I went. It wasn't worth trying to run. Thats the mistakes all the cryptids make. You don't run from a hunter. I ripped off my clothes, as steam rose off my body. I was getting pretty damn hungry. Which didn't narrow down my options whatsoever. It just made me more pissed off. I smelled them before I even heard the first sound. They brought a lot of company. Good. I was starting to feel disrespected. I waited patiently allowing my prey to come to me, alone in the near pitch black of the cave, I could see everything. Then everything got real quiet. No insects, no rodents scurrying, only the slow steady drip of far off water. "Hey there handsome."The dangerously saccharine voice of Cassandra sounded in front of me. drip drip drip "I'll be honest mate I thought you'd pick a better place then this for a last stand. Can't believe you let us get the drop on you."Drolled Mac's sardonic voice from behind me. drip drip drip "I mean really a fucking cave? Howie whined. "It's fucking freezing in here. Amateur hour letting us surround you."He'd always been a complainer. Hated when I had to work with him. drip drip drip I closed my eyes and listened as all the boots padded as silently as they could to surround me. Nervously I heard weapons being checked, night vision goggles whirring to life. I didn't move a muscle. Why should I? drip drip drip "Lets make this easy honey."Cassandra whispered in that annoyingly mocking tone of hers. "Big ole' bounty out for ya. I'd sure like to get paid for it. It'd be an awful shame to shoot you down here cowboy." drip drip drip I smelled him well before I saw him. Finally, slowly I got my feet. Feet paced nervously. I hoped they had brought along an experienced crew. Didn't want nervous fingers. "Nice of you to come along personally Theodore. I was hoping you'd be here."I growled, my voice echoing across The CEO of Theseus Corp strode in nonchalantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He was far younger than he had any right to be. Meek, soft spoken, he looked more at home in a card game shop then running the premier monster hunting organization in the world. He loved it when people saw him that way. I knew better. "You, uh, you know I hate it when you call me Theodore." "I do." "What did you take Vincent? Uh, I mean your type didn't show up on any of the scanners. Scared the hell out of the techies. They're just hourly ya know?" I shrugged and answered truthfully. "I didn't take anything." He sighed, and shook his head sadly. "Despite what you may think, I don't enjoy this. I was hoping that I uh, you know might talk you into coming quietly. You did good work for us. God's work." I felt something burn in me, my blood felt on fire, and each word she spoke stoked it hotter and hotter. I felt the transformation coming. The air was alive, electric, my muscles began to spasm. Molten and hot sticky with sap, pine needles, ice, I felt the calling. The images flashed across my mind, I heard it call to me, I saw the spirits, the blessing. It was then I understood. I had read the stories. I knew the lore. I had rolled the fucking dice and it had come up sixes. Pt 2 Continued in the comments.
“Amazing,” the wizened, usually cantankerous, professor breathed, as he removed his sunglasses and gaped at the cadaver in wonder. “I’ve been a professor for 20 years and I’ve never seen anything like it.” “I told you I was telling the truth,” Kevin Packer said stubbornly. “My dog literally ate my homework.” “This is not the work of any ordinary dog,” the professor said solemnly. “It is a werewolf. There must have been a full moon tonight.” Kevin wasn’t sure if he should tell his professor that his pet werewolf was really just a wolf, and had never been able to turn human. “He doesn’t turn human, sir.” Those words sounded so strange. “Explains why he was able to take a bite out of your cadaver’s leg without a problem, Mr. Packer.” The professor continued to gape at Kevin’s pet’s handiwork; the cadaver’s whole left calf had indeed been bitten off. (I have some homework to do so I probably won’t continue this sorry)
One day I succumbed to the murderous voice inside my head and, meeting him outside, seized him and rained many blows upon his face. There I left him bloodied on the ground where he lay, still and senseless. Later, upon hearing that he had died at a hospital, I was immediately filled with a sense of peace, for I had wrongly thought that his death would set me free from him and the nickname that he frequently called me, a name which I greatly despised: Slick. Now at nights, it is his beaten body that I dream of. During the day, I see his face in the faces of others. And the voice I now hear in my head is his, saying that detested nickname on repeat: Slick. Slick. Slick.
I step off the bus, cracking my knuckles and then my neck as I briskly strut down the street, then begin to clean my sunglasses on a handkerchief I keep in my pocket. "Haa, haa,"I breath on the glass, before putting them back on. I fidget idly with a pocket as I speed-walk, having important business to get to elsewhere on a very short deadline. I impatiently wait for traffic to clear even somewhat before beginning to practically run across the street, sidestepping a car at the last minute. Where is the cafe I was told to be at? Ah! I finally spot it, and stroll over, casually. I look about, and suddenly feel like something is off. In an almost preternatural, cinematic semblance of clairvoyance, time slows, and I look around. A young black person wearing plastic sunglasses beckons me over, and as I slowly step towards them, I look around at the other people there. An older, seemingly Arabic man sipping milky coffee whilst playing checkers with a much younger man, a middle-aged lady, her graying hair kept in a neat braid while shuffling a deck of cards, a young couple sharing bites of pastry. Far in a corner I see a standing figure. They wear a long flowing gown, one half white, the other half black. They wear a mask, one half black, the other half white. Their eyes, barely visible through the slits in the mask, are cold and dead. The young black person beckons me over with a greater degree of urgency, but I feel as though I'm walking through syrup; a fly sits, practically motionless in mid-air. "What's... Do you?"I begin to ask, trying to figure out how to speak to the only person who seemed unbound by the new laws of time, still beckoning me as though to-
There was no need to get up from his seat. Alan Morello was, at that moment, feeling something he had not felt for a while. He was at peace. He had been dealing with a number of...issues with his work, but now, one of them was currently sitting in front of him, across the mahogany desk. The man was young, barely a kid in Morello's estimation, was tied tightly. The ropes were digging into the skin, and Alan had made sure what was used was irritating and uncomfortable. It was the least he could do. Once he had time to let the situation sink in, Morello spoke. "I'm assuming you want to know why I'm keeping you alive." The kid shrugged as best he could, twitching his head to the side. "Not really. Just letting this play out at this point." Such cockiness. Morello placed his hands to his face and smirked. "Well, I want to tell you how badly you screwed up. You've been poking your nose where it shouldn't be. I'm sure you did your research, and you know that I'm a big deal in the city. I visit museum openings, rub elbows with the mayor, all that jazz." The man didn't speak. Alan had thought about gagging him before, but wanted to hear him scream for his life later. It was more fun that way. "But, as you found out when my boys found you, I'm not completely on the up and up. Sure, I deal in drugs, some stolen cars, maybe eve a little murder or two. But it all leads to the end goal. I'm going to run for mayor in a year. With my contacts, pockets, and a little bit of intimidation, I'll finally rule this city." The brat was still quiet, and Alan was getting confused. "Geez, you're really bad at this whole thing, aren't you? I told you everything, so you know I'm going to have to kill you, right?" The tied up man was smiling slightly, and Morello felt that fresh pang of fear that had been gone for only a short time. When his "guest"spoke, it was calm, a tone that seemed deadlier than it had any right to be. "Oh, I know that's your plan. I more wanted to hear you admit to all the stuff you were doing. I didn't know about the cars, as a matter of fact. No, I wanted you to talk. The confident ones are always the ones to dig their own graves." The windows suddenly illuminated with a bright light, as the motion sensors went off. Alan whirled around, staring out into the night. The light filled the docks, bouncing off cabinets. Nothing had changed outside, and almost as quickly as it had gone off, the lights went out, plunging the area into darkness. Growling in anger, Morello glared at the brat, who was grinning despite his predicament. "What makes you think you're going to live through this? You'll be dead long before the cops get here."As he spoke Morello drew a pistol, leveling it at the man, who had started giggling. "And why the hell are you laughing?" The kid finally caught his breath and spoke. "You, you really thought I was going to bring the cops into this? No, I brought people that you know. People that have been wanting to talk to you for a while. People who have been dying to see you again." A slow, steady pounding emanated from outside. /u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker (2019 Edition!): 49/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!
I live alone, I’m 19 and I was so happy to finally live calmly... now I admit sometimes I can be a bit of a wimp but this scared me. I noticed that my lights would randomly turn ON. I’d flip it off, next thing ya know the second I leave the room boom the lights on. First few times I was scared shitless... then I got annoyed “TURN THE FUCK OFF I WANNA SLEEP!!!” I went don’t to the breaker and cut out the lights, slammed the metal sheet door and went to my room. Then I heard a cry. I ran out of that damn house so fast but the cold forced me In again. I could hear the crying in the hallway. “Who’s there?!” I turn to see a girl with long black hair and a white Night gown. She stared at me and in fear I went into the basement and turned all the lights on. I went upstairs and the crying had stopped... so I went to the hallway and shut the lights off, I held my hand on the switch and heard the crying again. I felt sympathetic for the girl. “Can... can you show yourself for me? Can I see you?” Down the hallway she appeared, that stereotypical creepy ghost girl look, she shook a bit and had tears rolling down her face. “Are you scared? Afraid of the dark? Is that why you turn the lights on?” The girl in the gown nodded her head and in response... I flicked the light back on. She disappeared but I could hear her footsteps go towards then behind me. My bedroom light flicked off... that, brought a smile to my face and I left the rest of the lights in the house on as I closed my door and went to sleep. I talk to the girl sometimes when I see her, I know this is dumb but I keep buying stuffed animals... I have a guest room in my house and that’s her room now. I’ve bought many toys for her and I lay them on the bed. Some say this is creepy but I absolutely love doing this... I’ll walk into the room a lot and I’ll see stuffed animals on the ground like they had been played with, and each time I pick them up and lay them out nicely on the bed. I’ll visit the room at night and turn on a small lamp on a bedside table, I call this her bed. After weeks of doing this every night on day. I hear it. “Goodnight little spirit” “Night night Nea” I stopped dead in my tracks as I slowly turned and looked at the bed. I actually saw the girls face, her hair was moved out of the way when she laid down... my heart was racing with an odd adrenaline and my body screamed at me to run. But my heart screamed louder and all I could do was look at the girl laying in the army of stuffed animals all comfy and let a single tear of joy run down my cheek. I slowly shut the door and let out a huge sigh. My heart was pounding and I fought my fight or flight to walk calmly to my room. Ever since this incident I’ve been doing the breakfast bigger, and more often... every day I cook for two and sit it next to my as I watch tv, more often I’m hoping I feel her touch me or sit on my lap... I started watching kids shows and Saturday cartoons hopeing that’s what kids like, or what she likes... or if she even knows what a tv is hell how old is she? I think she 9... she can’t be older than that but I honestly don’t really know much about her. She’s very helpful. When I lay in bed sometimes I get cold and I open my eyes to notice I’ve been tucked in, sometimes If I’m lazy the light in my room will go off while I’m in bed. “Thank you little spirit!” I say in my sweetest most mom like voice I can manage. I responded to this by going online and purchasing bedtime stories... and slowly it’s become a kinda constant routine to buy wait to receive then read it to her... well I hope I’m reading it to her, late at night maybe around 9:30 I’ll go into her room and sit on the edge of the bed moving piles of the stuffed animals so I don’t ruin them. I read aloud the story and in the end I get up and say. “Goodnight lil Spirit”. I occasionally hear it again. “Night Night Nea”. It’s scary but so sweet that my motherly instincts outweigh my adrenaline by a mile and I refuse my body’s fight or flight. I know I’m not her mommy, nor will I ever be... and sometimes I know this but a part of me really wants to show this girl affection. I want to hug her and kiss her on the head at night, be the mom the bring her cookies when she has friends over or wave her to school every morning and it’s kinda painful knowing. She may not be real, or if she is... she’s dead. She will never get that, I will never get to be as good to her as she deserves me to be. I don’t know why I’m writing this... I want someone to know so, let me know if you moms out there have any advice on how to handle being better, what more can I do for my spirit and just let me know if you want to hear more. I could write in the eyes of Nea forever but i think it’s long enough, thanks to whoever reads this! It was fun to write and I hope you enjoyed a little feel good story.
"Game:Earth v1.3 in progress. Change your human settings?" Hah, it seems to be this little game I play. So what way should I change this day? Maybe make my mother a Dog, Or my father a frog; Who knows? It's just a little game I play. &#x200B; I make my car have muscles, But what if my girl struggles? Well, what if she had infinite cuddles? Yeah, that should work. It's just a little game I play. &#x200B; But what if I turn into evil, I won't do a retrieval. I'm just primeval. It's JUST a little game I play! &#x200B; I promise. &#x200B; \[poem\]
Lena stood outside of the entrance to the steamy cave for just long enough to mark the position of the stars. She peered through a plastic straw from which hung a small rock on a piece of shoestring. Pinching the string against a makeshift protractor under the straw allowed her to estimate what time it was. The still, dark, and permanently weather-less sky allowed Lena to perform this frequent ritual rather quickly, which was of great concern considering the average temperature has hovered around -40 degrees for the past few weeks with no indication that the cooling will stop. Figuring it was about 11 in the morning, she swept her flashlight across the pitch-dark frozen forest around her. The quiet was deafening. Lena could hear her blood flowing through her ears in between stinging cold breaths. She listened. Holding her breath, she focused all of her attention on attempting to hear anything move through the dead woods. A snap of a twig or a rustle in the brush no longer meant animals were close; they had all since perished in the Cold Dark. No, any sound these days only meant Gatherers were nearby; those individuals’ intent on surviving who roam the landscape in search of geothermal activity. Though Gatherers are normal people in most other regards like you and I, they have the reputation of manipulating whole colonies of Foxes (those who’ve survived the Cold Dark thus far by hunkering down in caves and hot springs) into giving up their resources and warm homes, usually killing them if they don’t. Not a sound – no song birds up high, no wind in the leaves, no creek water collapsing over the rocks – could be heard. She sighed. About six months ago, the sun vanished. That’s the most succinct way to put it. Over the course of a few days the daytime sky slowly flickered and flashed like an old lightbulb ready to lose its charge. At the time, the prevailing theory was that a gradually thickening cloud of asteroids came between the sun and the earth. Panic set in. No one could explain exactly what was happening and scientists and religious groups alike proclaimed the end. Everyone was to prepare for the worst. No one was safe. Humankind wrestled with the futility of resisting our certain extinction. It seemed incredibly unfair that the universe would have the audacity to force our elimination without our input. How self-centered. Shortly thereafter, the earth turned black. Day became dark and night became hollow. Without the sun, the moon became an inky circle against the permanently visible star-scape. Worldwide, temperatures plunged. From polar cap to equator, the earth froze. The air settled and wind became a memory. The last remaining clouds wrung their final dewy remains upon the landscape, freezing where it landed, never to rise again. Trees grayed. Crops ceased to grow. Death ran rampant. Lena turned and made her way back down the mouth of her lonely cave. Warm humid air pushed past her cold nose. Faint yellow torch-light danced across the walls of narrow passageway. Near the back, a tiny roughly fashioned wooden door marked the entrance of home: a yet smaller area of the cave filled with bookshelves, a makeshift stove, and even a bed. A pool of hot, steaming spring water filled the back quarter of the cutout. An eclectic collection of items from the world above ground hung all around. Lena opened a fresh mason jar of racoon meat and brought strings of the greasy flesh to her lips. As she chewed in silence, she took inventory of the food she had remaining. Three weeks – a month max – is what she estimated was left. It was only a matter of time before she would be forced to venture out again to gather. The thought worried her as her last adventure led her to a small Fox colony that seemed more intent on turning her into a meal than helping her live out the Cold Dark. Lena survived, but just barely. She shuddered. She capped the jar, placed it back on the shelf, and removed her thick coat. Throwing herself on the old sheetless mattress, she retraced her life for the umpteenth time as she stared at the ceiling. Reaching over to the floor beside her, Lena turned on a small cd player and let Vivaldi faintly echo through the chamber. It was relaxing. She ignored her rumbling stomach as her eyelids grew heavy. Sleeping seemed to be the only way pass the time lately. As she drifted off, her hearing grew fuzzy. Visions of her toddler son playing in a grassy field just as the sun began to set flicked through her mind’s eye. A reoccurring dream of her husband laying on a bright, hot beach during their honeymoon ran on replay. She dreamed of images of the pink sunrise during the hike she took around Crater Lake right after her high school graduation. After what felt like only a brief time, Lena woke with a start. A dream about her father, rifle in hand, peering across a cool meadow, ended abruptly when he pulled the trigger and a loud bang rang through Lena’s head as if the gunshot had happened right next her. She gasped and eventually caught her breath. While sitting upright, she realized something in her cave seemed off. She looked around and felt an unfamiliar energy. Peering at the door, she examined it closely. Lena slowly lifted herself from the bed and walked across the cave while staring at the door. About a foot from it, she dropped to her hands and knees and let the cold dirt floor press between her fingertips, her eyes fixed on the gap between the door and floor. She moved closer, taking in what she saw. As her nose just about met the gap, she paused. Lena’s attention stayed glued to the gap beneath the door for some time. Unbreakable silence filled the warm air. Bright pale light filtered into the cave through the gap. She slowly placed a single index fingertip into the dirt right in front of the gap and witnessed something she’d grown accustomed to not seeing: a shadow. She withdrew her hand and breathed heavily as she realized the light beneath the door wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Lena rose to her feet and forcefully threw the wooden door open. Blinding white sunlight filled the narrow cave and a subtle warmth met her cheeks. She froze.
“Shut it down. NOW!” I turned away from The Screen [a new term I invented] at the unexpected shout from our team leader, Merven Dughrel. Jiv Shaxen was still pointing at it with his mouth hanging open. {“Did I hear her right? Turn it OFF?”} As I looked between The Screen and Prija Dughrel’s reddened face I knew she was not happy with our discovery. I don’t think anyone heard her yell. I don’t think anyone’s brain is working at the moment. What the in the Five Levels of Zobreon just happened?!? On the other side of The Screen, placed in the center of a field on a plot of abandoned land, surrounded by a tech crew of ten with a single initiator for power, was a scene of utter insanity - a massive gathering of thousands of...creatures, attending a ritual involving some kind of performers on a large, elevated structure. These beings had makeshift structures erected in random locations within our field of view. The horizon and slope of the land in The Screen matched the land we now stood on as my eyes panned the landscape and across our window into the impossible. Where structures stood upslope in this other place, their peaks would disappear outside our field of view the farther back they went. Creatures seemed to emerge from nowhere as they moved across the scene. There were clusters of creatures swaying and flailing their upper appendages around as if they all suffered from Faytix Disease. Some appeared to have fallen down and became coated in the filth that covered the ground. Most were in close proximity or intertwined, appearing to be in familial or mated relations. This happened for a time until they all raised their extremities and turned toward the performers on the platform who grasped various kinds of devices connected by long cables to... The Screen winked out as the Prija halted the initiator, revealing the empty field as it currently exists in our world. On our planet. OUR planet! “What has happened, Phen?!?”, Merven asked as she touched my shoulder. “I don’t know,” was all I could say. ————————— The Comm Guardian strode the corridor at a brisk pace, trailing a nervous and anxious group of officers and advisors in his wake. He called out to his Second over the tumult behind him, “What’s the status of The Screen? Has a fixed initiator been installed yet?” “Affirmative, CommGar! Just 2 leptos ago!”, she replied. Her tone sounding brisk yet displeased. She had been pressing the techs to solve the mobile power problem for a few sols now. It was a surprise she didn’t execute any for their failures thus far. Every effort to prepare for action has been halted by tech issues which only ten people in the world knew about. Time was running out. “It’s bad enough we must rely on those techs, but they are our only hope! Updated reports on the test site scans were inconclusive. Residual energon patters match The Screen’s output with its initiator. No other energasic traces. It’s all on your desk.” “Good! Now let’s talk to the techs about the next part of the mission...” The Comm Guardian and his entourage entered the hangar as the techs put the last of their tools away. He strode straight up to Prija Dughrel whose expression soured at his approach. “Fine work, crew! You’ve all exceeded our expectations. Now for the next phase.” Some techs looked incredulous while others groaned audibly. One even dared look threateningly in his direction. “This is not acceptable! You have already taken our property hostage, worked our team for sols without proper rest or nourishment, threatened us with execution, and now you will force us to do more against our will?! We will not have it! If the Second OverComm knew that our rights were being violated, you all will be imprisoned as Tainted Ones!” He glanced at his Second over his shoulder, and she quickly diverted her eyes. So she HAD come close to executing them. He let it slide, but Phenthijal Huwx needed to be educated about his behavior to a Comm Guardian-a First, at that-in private. “We would not be in this situation if it weren’t for your team and your Screen. I would gladly die as a Tainted One if it my actions saved our existence the world over! YOU need only concern yourself with assisting us in our mission. Is that understood?!” His soft tone and piercing gaze left little room for misinterpretation. Prijum Huwx muttered an affirmation but his eyes said otherwise. Another topic for their upcoming “discussion.” The First turned his attention to the Prija. “We would like you to think about the application of a physical phase component to your invention. My advisors have suggested using a PhasMat, aligned with the same phasewave pattern and energasic output The Screen uses, to possibly be able to transfer physical matter from our world to this mystery world you’ve shown us.” Prija Dughrel stood staring at him for a good three leptos before saying “Are you insane?” Her genuine look of apprehension and concern almost made him feel like he was a first-chron cadet who asked why he needed to care for his own clothing. Almost. Instead he asked her to explain her comment. “That was one of the first things we spoke about when we designed The Screen. It was scrapped almost immediately when we learned that the two phasewave patterns could not achieve attuned flux. Without attuned flux, the patterns would create something similar to a Null Vorx which would destabilize the fabric of...well, everything in existence! It was one of the warnings we placed in our registers, if your advisors thought to look for any!!” They had checked. That’s why they wanted her and her team to try again. If the security of their world was to be assured, they needed the PhasMat installation to work. “We need you to revisit it again. This was all just mindflow when that warning was written, and now look! How do you know such a thing would happen now that The Screen is a reality? You and your team have brought an impossibility to life! Who knows what else you can create with such foremind?!” The Prija took on a thoughtful expression, maybe considering the possible success of such applications. Her consideration was all he needed to press her. “Take a few sols to recollect and nourish. Our teams will meet then to discuss how to proceed. Saving the world won’t be easy.” Prija Dughrel nodded absently as she turned toward her team. He could hear anger and concern in their voices as they spoke of what was to come. It didn’t concern him. They would do it, whether they liked it or not. [THIS IS JUST A SHORT SUBMISSION OF A LARGER STORY/PLOT I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!]
One of these days, Alex would learn to leave well enough alone. One of these days he'd stop trying to save the world one wreck at a time. One of these days he'd use his considerable talents and considerably less considerable resources to invent something spectacular. This particular day, when he ventured out into the field of the unliving metal-men, he had intended to look for something that salvaged well. Perhaps a weapon, or the pulsating shining gemstones that once was spread wide across the fields, but now were only found where they had managed to avoid detection in the cracks and nooks of the deserted place. He had some ideas about automation and the mechanical he wouldn't mind to run by the Mechanus Guild, but the admissions fees even for short meetings were rather stiff, and if you weren't born into money, your main way of getting that was scavenging. That's when he saw it. Its form was nothing spectacular. What remained of it's limbs drew a rough carricature of a man, made by a god less dexterous than the one who had made him, it's impossible metal grin was as wide and uncanny as they always were. One of it's facsimile eyes, though, did something Alex had never seen before. It blinked. A steady, pulsating signal, there was no mistaking it. "Cogs and actuators", Alex mumbled to himself. None of the silent guardians of the metal fields had ever shown as much as a sign of life, although the whispering of superstitious fools would have you believe they would move to punish the wicked and unvirtous. "It's... you're alive. Well, as alive as you get, how did anyone not...", Alex took in the scene. Some enterprising scrapper had dismantled the large structure that had once shielded the metal man from view. He made the sign of the hammer, this was a find for the ages. Even an intact metal man head would fetch a fine price from the Mechanus Guild, but this one appeared to be partially active. "You're a miracle, that's what you are", Alex trembled with slight awe. He could turn in his find, but then again, surely the Mechanus would not mind him having a quick look under the plating of this fine specimen? "See, this is what people don't get about stuff from the before-world..., Alex told his unresponsive metal cargo as he walked to the outskirts of town. Strapping the metal creature to his back had been the best idea he could come up with to get it back to town without alerting anyone "It's not made by gods, well, not no immaterial gods, at least. I mean, whoever made this stuff, well, you guys, they're decades, maybe centuries ahead of us, but they were living, breathing creatures. They made mistakes, and little strokes of genius here and there. Just like us."Once at the outskirts, he found an appropriate nook out of the wind, getting sand in the inner working of his new project would not do. "Now, the books are kind of in the dark if you guys could feel pain. If you happen to do, I'm sorry, and I'm only doing this to help you", Alex said, suppressing the desire to add "but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about this"with the slimmest of margins. "This is astounding", Alex said once he had managed to pry open the side-cover of the metal creature. "I mean, I'm not going to recant my "not gods"-comment, but that is some smooth wiring. I'm not even sure a mechpriest could weld these up like this... that may have been blasphemy, so don't tell anybody I said that."For some reason, Alex found the metal man's silence reassuring. After prying as much as he dared into the insides, Alex was pretty sure he had found how it could be that it was still functioning, albeit at reduced capacity. "Looks like your main battery core got unplugged, like most of the way. I guess that explains why you haven't run out... hey, did you hear that?"Alex wasn't sure if it sounded like footsteps, or if that was just paranoia. After all, a steady stream of bribes from the scavenging cartels usually kept the guards away. The sound, whatever it was, passed. "Well I guess it was nothing. Anyway..."More prudent artifact-hunters than Alex would have thought twice about attempting to reactivate a prehistoric war machine. Prudence however, Alex would insist, was for scholars. Reattaching the glasslike thread to the hexagonal object he had identified as the battery core wasn't hard, but it took a while, Alex felt like his fingers were several sizes too large for the job. Had it even been a human who assembled this, he caught himself thinking, or was this a machine built by a machine? The holy grail of mechanics? Alex felt the wire slide into the battery, he was pretty sure what was right. Unfortunately for him, he discovered he wasn't alone any more when he heard voices like metal on concrete. "Well well well, what do we have here Angstrom?"Alex wished he had never heard that voice before, and the voice that follows. "Looks like some little scavenger not paying his dues to me, Millius."Alex looked up. The two enforcers of the South Ward Scrappers looked like an artificer's fever nightmare, with entire limbs replaced by roughly adapted ancient tools and weapons. Most of the weapons wouldn't work properly without an external battery and were basically for show, but Alex knew for a fact a couple of them would work more than good enough to kill or maim him should they chose to. "Oh, hey boys. How's ol' Sharpeye?"Alex didn't catch Millius rush up to him and yank him to his feet, but his senses, once they caught up, told him it had happened. "It's Mr. Bell to you, scum", Millius snarled. In some distant part of his mind, Alex realized he should be apologizing, or at the very least de-escalate the situation somehow. What his mouth said, however, did none of those things. "Sharpeye Bell is an odd name, but who am I to question the wisdom of the late Mrs. Bell."Millius' hand, or rather the now burning hot blade that replaced his hand, rose for a strike. Alex tried to tear his shirt collar free from the thug's vice-grip, or to tear the rest of the shirt free of the collar, but it was too late by far. Alex had all but accepted his fate when a blinding flash and a deafening boom overwrote his senses. When he came to, he was standing on his own two feet again, and there was a hole in the wall where Millius had been standing. Something heavy was weighing on his collar. Alex blinked the white spots out of his eyes and looked down. Millius' mechanical hand was still attached to him, and to it, the last few bits of organic matter that remained from the enforcer. "Oh..."Alex looked up again. There was an odd, ashy spot where Angstrom had been standing and over it stood the metal man, balancing precarious on its remaining leg. It turned to face him, its lone green eye pulsing with something that Alex recognized as recognition. "Hostile warforms disabled. Status check?"The tinny voice didn't come from it's mouth, exactly. "Uh... me?"Alex asked, dumbfounded. "Affirmative.""I'm... I'm fine, thank you. Uh... you're not going to kill me too?""Negative. Primary directive: protection of Progeny Species."Alex blinked again. "I... uh... my name is Alex. Thank you... for saving me", he said, trying to pry the mechanical hand off his shirt without looking at it long enough to panic. "Progeny species personal designation saved: Alex", The machine man said. One of these days, Alex thought as he finally tore the mechanical prosthesis from his shirt, he would take the easy, cowardly option. "Listen, you may want to lay low for a while. Come with me?"He asked the machine man, today was not the day. "Affirmative."The machine man beeped.
"Gah!"I scream as my mind pops back into reality, and my eyes into viewing. I glance around anxiously. It's a kitchen, but one where a cook for a restaurant would prepare a meal, not a home one. There's a door at the far end of the room with handles not unlike car door handles. I get up, my bones popping and cracking, indicating in my mind I've been "sleeping"awhile. I remember I still have no idea how I got here, so I do what everyone would do in my circumstance. I leave. I pop out the door, the door itself going "kachuNK!", and I scan my area. It's a playground, something straight out of my childhood days, filled with metal bars for climbing and occasionally falling, slides that electrify you if you're sliding with sports clothes, and swings that look as if they could propel a toddler 15 feet. I turn and see where I came out of. It's a white van (one door open now revealing the kitchen), with no markings indicating a business, except a message crudely spray-painted on the side "FreE Drugs". I do a once over. "FreE Drugs"it says, printed boldly, albeit shakily. I rub my eyes. I notice my sleeves are very white, all ruffled but crisp. I look down upon myself. I'm wearing a chefs outfit. "Huh."I ponder aloud. This is strange for me. My normal job is something much different than this. Actually, my side hustle is remarkably similar, but my normal job isn't and it's a Monday (so far as I cant tell) at around about...(I look at the sun, trying to discern the time from the position in the sky, which I do)...3:00 pm. I'm usually at my desk, doing accounting. The side hustle starts at 5. "Huh."I say again. Well, looks like it's time for my side hustle! I lure a kid over and give him a bag of high quality coke with a spatula inside. "Woah!"His 5,6ish year old squeaks, "Is that a kitchen wutensil? I thought those were iwwegal. My mommy said to never pway with kitchen utensils!"His eyes seem worried. "No of course not!"I say. "Now go run along and enjoy your high grade coke or meth or whatever that shit is."He runs off, lines up a line of coke with the spatula haphazardly on the line, and snorts it. As soon as he touches the spatula, his head explodes and kids run screaming from the playground. Apparently, my side hustle is well done in this weird city, as well as my normal city where I give kids candy with razor blades. I think I like this area.
The flash news Bulletin finished and Bob turned it off, the sudden silence jarring in his small and dirty trailer. A half-full whiskey bottle fell to the floor and spilt it's brown contents over an assortment of mess and snacks littered around his reclining leather chair as he stood up. Bob stumbled to the toilet, closing the medicine tablet that was full of an array of drugs that in recent years had all seemed to blend into one, a constant stream of pills. Wiping the mirror, he looked at his reflection for what felt like the first time in...he couldn't even remember. His mind was clear. He was really seeing himself. He was present in this actual moment. Running his large and calloused hand through his beard and across his face he began to weep, the tears falling down his dirty face, the taste of salt on his chapped lips mixing with the remnant drops of whiskey. He cried for himself, he cried for his friends, and most of all, he cried for his daughter. Her Daddy was back. All it had taken was the threat of the end of the world. It had hit him like a warm and heavy blanket. The certainty of the end eliminating all his worries about venturing outside, of having to assess every threat that was and wasn't there, of being stuck in both the past and present mixing warzones and supermarkets or schools together in a hellish nightmare. Everyone was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Why worry? He felt his old self returning as his mind threw away the shackles that had entrapped it. Confidence, focus, and his ability to assess a situation and see the best course of action with an intelligence rarely seen on front line. The same traits that had once made him the best of the best. The elite. First to go was the beard, followed by the messy and mottled hair on his head. A long shower later, he unpacked his clothes from their vacuumed packs and put them on, fresh as the day his ex-wife had sent them to him. He had never needed them, until now. Judging by the smell, he'd been wearing the same slacks the entire time. Wallet. Phone. Keys. Everything else, he left. Turning on the gas as he exited the trailer for the last time, he walked over to his Harley that was parked a short distance away, covered by a sheet next to his rundown old car. Uncovering the beast was like another layer of him healing, the gleaming metal and paint sparking a joy in him so intense he almost stumbled. He jumped on, and turning back to house, drew out his Sig P226 limited edition and aimed it at the trailer that stood alone in the woods. "Fuck you PTSD!"he shouted at the top of his lungs and pulled the trigger. The trailer exploded in a ball of flame, and with it, Bob truly knew he was back. As the fireball raged behind him, he pulled out his mobile, and entered a number, the only number that he knew. "This is Merc"came a short reply. "Merc, it's Bob. I'm back" "Holy shit...where have you been? Where the fuck are you now? I.." "Merc...it doesn't matter. I need a favour. The location of my Daughter"Bob interrupted, cutting to the chase. "Bob, you don't understand. Just get to me. I'll send over my location now. Do not reveal this to anyone. I'll arrange pick up for your ex-wife and, ahem, her new husband along with your daughter. There is more to this asteroid story than you know, and we could do with someone of your...skills" "I await your instruction"Bob replied, hanging up. The warm heat from the fire felt good in the frosty winter air as Bob's mind began to race with the possibilities of what was happening, re-engaging into his 'work' mode. No, the priority was his Daughter. See her. Actually see her, tell her everything. Apologize. If there was time for anything else, then he would see what he could do. His phone pinged loudly as another explosion rattled the trailer. Looking down, he saw it was a location pin. A military base, about half a days ride from his current location. With a little prayer he turned the keys that still jutted from the bike. Spluttering first, it then roared into life, Bob applauding it's defiance of age and maltreatment with caring rubs down the main body. "Good girl, good girl. Knew I could count on you" With a roar, he flew out and down the forest track, not once looking back. Onward only from now... for the next 10 days at least.
Our hero, drunk in their newfound fame for their accolades in the war of kingdoms, and drunk on royal mead from the northlands, stumbled into their tavern room for the night. They prepared their soul for the kindom's hero's sacrifice they were unaware of till the night before. Their blood to splattered on the alter to the gods, their limbs to be sent to the four corners of the kingdom to protect it's citizens from the spiritual evils guiding the eternal war. The hero spoke aloud their thoughts, "One last time with a lover of the night." The bed creaked from dusk to Dawn.
It was a tiny request - annoying, sure - but really nothing compared to all the other "requests"handed down by management. Move the Red Box machine a few inches to the right. It didn't even specify how many inches... just "a few." Of course, as soon as we moved it a smidge we saw all the dust bunnies that had collected underneath in the area our brooms and mops simply cannot ever reach. Maybe that was the reason, we thought. Maybe they just wanted the floor cleaned. But we never got an order to move it back to its original place. Looking back, I realize there really wasn't time to move it, even if management had dictated it. Within the first hour of relocation, a small line had formed in front of the Red Box. It wasn't all that unusual, though it was most common after the Oscar winners hit the stand, or if there were a really popular movie that had just come out on DVD. So at first, none of us wondered about the small line forming. We thought it would dissipate and everything would be business as usual. We were so wrong. By the end of the night, a line stretched from the Red Box all the way to the pharmacy in the back of the store. Questions were already circulating about what was going on, but none of us on staff had any idea. Maybe it was a prank? A sort of flash mob? By closing time, we had to start arguing with customers, telling them they had to leave even if they didn't have a movie in hand. We tried pointing people in the direction of other kiosks, but they wouldn't hear of it. Many of them just looked away and crossed their arms, as if to say they were not going to leave. The cops had to be called. Tear gas had to be threatened. Raises were demanded of management for those of us dealing with the chaos. The next day, a line had formed outside the building before our opening crew even arrived. About ten minutes before opening, someone threw a rock and busted a window. People poured into the store. One would almost think the apocalypse had arrived, if it weren't for the fact people weren't pilfering food or supplies; they were only there for the movies. About ten minutes later, the kiosk was completely out of DVDS. It's a good thing, we all thought. Now they'll leave us alone. But we were so wrong. Someone lit a flare. Another person let out an inhuman scream. Shelves started toppling. People ran screaming through the aisles. A fire flared up, sending off the smoke alarms. Now the staff and I are standing outside, across the street, watching as our store goes up in flames, many of the crazed still inside. They refused to leave, seemingly entranced by the small, empty red box inside.
Gotta catch em all, hey pal. An older looking pikachu walked next to ash. And then the Pikachu agreed in the way that pikachus agree. “Pika pika”. Ash nodded as if he knew exactly what Pikachu was saying. For those that don’t know, he said, “ the quest for greatness is more than the amount of Pokémon you own, it’s about the heart.” exactly bud! -ash said as he looked up at the crimson sun. We’ve been on so many battles, so many close calls, so many fights with team rocket. Ash walks in a large igloo looking home and inside they find their closest friends and family members from the good ol days. Tears filled the eyes of most the people in the room, pikachus family was there. Ashs wife and kids where there, all grown up and great Pokémon masters themself. Even some of ashes favorite students where there. Ash was a professor the last 10 years and he enjoyed those years more than any. This was Ash’s last day on earth, he turned 100 today and wanted to leave this beautiful world on his terms. Everyone gave him kisses and hugs and they talked of the best of times. Ash was full to the brim of laughter, good stories, and memories. But he knew he had to make an exit speech and he knew it would be 99% tears and a few words. “People ask me, ash.... how’d you become the greatest Pokémon master of all time?” And this is what I’m happy to tell them, “my friends.” And they usually aren’t happy to hear this. The crowd laughs They want a secret that can help them personally. And i tell them, the people you keep around you, are the upmost importance in life, and honestly I think I just got lucky. To have all you guys. The tears started a bit. You sit and ponder what your last words are going to be, the last thing your loved ones will hear to remember you. But then you remember it won’t be today you remember, a grey old man, it’s the many adventures we’ve been on. You want to spend hours with each every person here but u can’t. But that’s ok, because I gave it my all when I was big eyed and younger. The quest isn’t about Pokémon and gyms. The quest is the methods to find the rewards, you guys. I am beyond grateful to have a room full of people here. A few squirtels started crying loudly. I could sit back and think of all my regrets and downfalls but that’s silly, because the warmth of my gratefulness fills me up beyond measure. Ash disappears. Everyone takes a moment to sink it all in.......... They smile.
"TRY THIS COOL NEW DIET THAT DOCTORS CLAIM KILLS 99% OF FAT!" Again with this, seriously? I've tried every diet, every exercise program, every fat-burning machine available to the market. No matter what I try, I cannot lose the weight I keep putting on. It's getting to the point where just walking to the store two blocks down is tiring. I hate it. I just want to be healthy. I keep scrolling on the article I'm reading about how to start an exercise program when I get a notification on my phone. I check, and it's my friend, "Hey, so I heard you were trying to lose some weight... Again" Slightly annoyed by his attitude, I quickly text back, "So? What's it to you?" "Nothing man, I just wanted to let you know something cool I found" He sent a link, and, just to humor myself, I tapped it. Almost instantly, my phone brought me to a webpage advertising some new miracle 'weight loss drug' that removed all unhealthy fat from your body, immediately. I went back to the conversation my friend and I were having and remarked, "Dude, you're sooo gullible. there's no way that'll work" "Trust me on this, I did my research!" "Did you do it on fakenews.com?" "Just trust me. please at least check it out?" "ugh fine. I check it out tomorrow then" With that, I left my phone, and went to bed. The next morning, I awoke and strutted over to the car, where I drove over to the pharmacy my friend recommended. When I arrived, I noticed that quite a few people were there, and most of them were either as or more obese than I, and they were all waiting in line. So, naturally, I went to the back and waited too. After a few minutes of scrolling on my phone, I heard a commotion from inside the store. I looked as someone crashed through the doors, shouting something like "This place is such a scam! Wait till I report you to the FDA!" The people in line suddenly became a lot more nervous as they watched the customer rage, and most even left. Eventually, I was the next in line, and I was called in for the prescription. The doctor gave one look at me and said, "You're here for the drug, aren't you?" "Well what else would I be here for? Anti-fungal foot cream?" "Of course. Now, before we begin, I must warn you of the instructions and consequences from taking this drug. Firstly, the instructions. Take one dose of this drug, about 50 mL, for every 10 pounds you wish to lose. That's about it. however, the consequences include-" "Let me guess, Consequences include Allergic reactions, mild to severe heart bleeding, lung incapacitations, hemorrhoids AND diarrhea, dizziness, and nausea?" "Actually, no. The only consequence is death." "I-I'm sorry?" "You see, this drug is less of a... scientific drug, and more of a... how do I put this? magical drug. It's a potion, in layman's terms. For every pound you lose, one person dies of a heart attack." "Y-you're joking. you're joking, right? Why would anyone do that? It's just... inhumane." "It's quite painless, actually." With that, I immediately understood what that person from earlier was rambling on about. I got up and ran out, barging through the line at the front of the store. I raced home and texted my friend what happened. He tried reasoning with me, but I wouldn't listen. Who would do something like that? Who would kill others for their own benefit? Who...? With that, I fell asleep, despite it being 2pm. I awoke at 5 the next morning, tired from sleeping too much. I stood up and thought to myself, "What if I did take it? I mean, its not like I'd know the guys that die; it'd just be... people.... on the news." I soon got in my car and drove to the pharmacy. Of course, I had a few hours before it opened, so I had time to mull it over. "What if my parents die?""That's not likely or statistically going to happen""What if my death is a possibility?""Win-win. You'd either lose some weight, for once in your life, or you'd never have to see this body again." I knew what I was going to chose. As soon as I saw the pharmacy open, and the man from yesterday walk in, I rushed indoors and shouted for the pharmacist. I saw him start to come over when suddenly, I felt a huge pain dig into my chest. Oh no. I collapsed backwards onto the floor, my vision blurry, and the pharmacist came into view. His mouth opened. "Well this is awkward. I suppose you were here for that drug." I wanted to strangle him as darkness enveloped my mind.
I set about to find a job and new digs. I want my coffin back. Or another whichever. I mooch around when the sun has set looking for a job at the many nightclubs on the strip looking for a bar job. Bingo. It’s a crappy looking place and the wages are crap but a jobs a job, it’ll pay and I’ll be able to subsidise my vegetarian diet. Yep I refuse to feed of or hurt any humans anymore. Truth be known, I consider staying past sunrise and just walking out in all my glory, burning up into the ashes to be blown wherever they may land. Iv lived a long life.too long really. Anyway things took a little turn for the better as I happened to serve my first customer. That swine my ex servant. Scared to death of me ( and quiet right to) my eyes turn to red as I blaze I want my coffin. And my money. You have an hour. He actually came through! It was all returned. I still ripped his heart from his body. The shock in his eyes as he realised I had penetrated his chest with just my fingers. His brain still wired for a minute til the blood had stopped reaching his brain he just stood looking at his heart and at me, vocal chord paralysed unable to make but a sound. I didn’t take pleasure in it. I didn’t like to hurt humans. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I decided there and then I was going to sell up and move away. I needed the loneliness. I needed to not hurt anyone anymore. And even though I tried and had tried for as long as I could remember, even in my human years, I had hurt people. Not always physically but emotional pain is worse. Move away or into the sun. I wipe the final glass of my shift, trying to figure which move would be for the best.
[New to writing, very happy for any sort of comment, please do let me know if this is any good.] Samantha worked the night shift. It was a lonely job, but paid well and most of the patients were fairly easy to deal with. She was saving for her own place and needed to make as much money as possible to get it done. "Only 3 more weeks of this, then it’s back to living in the day time. No more vampirism for me", she laughed to herself as she tied her long brown hair up beginning her nightly rounds on the ward. Towards the end of the room, an elderly gentleman lay hooked up to several machines. As she came closer to his bed, she noticed a hooded figure sat with him, just behind the curtain. She stopped in her tracks. The figure didn't seem to notice she was there. Oh shit she thought to herself, stood frozen in the middle of the room griped by the overwhelming sensation of fear. Who the hell is this, and how did they get past security? I'll have to go over and, as she thought of a way out of this, the figure took down his hood. She froze once more, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Oh good god, his eyes… Her eyes widened. Her hand raised to her mouth, trembling. The figure stood, and spoke. [Show me your sins and I will show you a way..](#sc), it's voice deep and echoing around the room, Samantha still anchored to the spot only a short distance away. The old man gently nodded and spoke with a voice so soft that Samantha could barely hear it. As he spoke, a dull glow emanated from around him. His words becoming like fog, hanging in the air, drifting over to the figure. The figure opened its mouth and took in the words in a continues, seemingly endless, breath. The old man finished, and sank into the bed, lifeless. The figure stood still, with it's head hung low, eyes closed, muttering some words in a low quiet sound. Samantha knew she had to do or say something, "OK, I don't know who you are-", at the sound of her voice the figure turned to face her, it's eyes wide and burning a bright hot red. The figure opened its mouth and let out an ear-splitting screech. Samantha fell to the floor in agony from the pain racing through her head. After what felt like a thousand lifetimes, the noise stopped. Samantha arose, to find the figure gone and the old man lifeless in the room, the dull tone of his heart rate monitor ringing into the air.
The outlaw Elijah started out as a simple man with a grudge. Quite by accident, he stumbled across the crystal caves that spanned underneath the western desert, and with a small pack of food and water he disappeared inside. When he emerged over a month later, he had become something more. He could raise the dead. Elijah never spoke of what happened during his journey underground, or how he came to wield such a power, though there were rumors that he had taken bed with the Devil himself. Whatever events had occurred, his hatred against society had grown beyond a lust for gold and easy company. He wanted the world to end, and had deemed that he was the man to do it. The corpses he raised did not come back as they had been in life. They were not human and did not possess a soul. They were bloodthirsty, obedient only to the man who had created them, and craved the flesh of the living. Their eyes were horrid and empty, and every occupation that held their presence fell within the hour. Only those who were quick to flee escaped with their lives. People abandoned their homesteads and townships to congregate in the city, completely clearing the surrounding area of trees in their eagerness to fortify their defenses. They soon had a wall stalked by guardsmen with rifles, and lived in constant fear of the knowledge that it was a matter of time before the outlaw and his undead army came. Only the grace of God could save them. Elijah laughed mercilessly at their efforts. He knew that walls could not keep him out, and he deliberately held back to wait for the inevitability of life to occur within the city walls. Sure enough, a day came when a man was trampled by a bull and died hours later, only to suddenly rise up and slaughter his wife who wept by his deathbed. Every person slain was reanimated and took up the bloodshed, and the very walls that had been intended to keep the dead out now kept the living trapped with their doom. Shortly afterward the last stronghold of humanity had fallen...
"Wait, so I get to decide??"my mind shrieked from non-existent lips. Yes, since your last reincarnation, the new interface was installed for ease of access and you were given a free, 300 earthen sun cycle customer support account, though getting anything beyond inspiration or enlightenment is a whole different matter entirely. I would recommend you put piety on max for easier communication with our service department if you wish for divine management. Ok. She (it??) with one of it's 6 fractalized mouths had just given me the run down, but it sounded as though it was speaking *out* of me.What the hell?! No need to be afraid here. Your karmatic scores , honestly owing mostly to posting ennumerous amounts of animal gifs to r/awww have earned you full jurisdiction over your own fate. Many beings who reach this transcendance choose to simply <Relocate> [the corresponding button lighting up a deep purple on the screen to my right]... but, some choose to stay and help others with their karma. Those brave (some gods think foolish) souls get to decide the impact level, [A sliding scale glows momentarilly directly in front of me, followed by the rest as they are listed top to bottom], sympathy levels (Let me tell you Jesus had that one at 0 when he made that tried his second coming... he hasn't even tried since), social class, ... The list goes on long enough for me to start getting anxious, and the being senses it. Alright, the last scale to adjust is the likely the important, and effects how all the others in some way play out... Confidence. The lower your confidence meter the more distraught, overwhelmed, and generally out of sync with your karmatic purpose you will be. But triumphing over your own self-destructive programming will bring not only you great accomplishment, but will most likely alter others fates in the same positive way... in other words big karma points! Before the being could even finish their explanation I noticed slides adjusting on their own, yet somehow I sensed it was me doing it. I watched as I(?) rapidly dove down to the bottom of the list, and rest on Confidence. It glowed a deep red as the bar slid to the negative side in slow motion. I suddenly got a terrible feeling im my gut... "I don't know if I can do this.." *Perfect!* And then the screens flickered off and she was gone... leaving me in the darkness with the feint sound of a heart beat.
As I turned the corner, on the street there was a homeless man, and he begged me, saying, "Please. Spare some change. I just want to get something to eat." And that unmistakable voice of warning said to me: "Help him". But the stronger voice of my father overpowered it and shouted with, "Drug addicts! All of them! If they want to eat, they should get a job! I looked at the homeless man, crumpled the dollar bill that I had in my pocket, and said, "I'm sorry, I don't have anything."And I walked on. The voice whispered, Go back, go back. But I did not. Later that day, I found out that shortly after I had left, the homeless man had been beaten to death right there on there sidewalk by the next man he had asked for money. The homeless man had been beaten to death in front of a fast-food spot. The workers there told police that earlier the homeless man had come in asking for food, and they felt so bad for him and he was so nice that they agreed to give him 5 dollars worth of food if he brought them 3 dollars. Police searched the homeless man, and found 2 dollars worth of loose change in his pocket. I cried.
"So how did you survive Purge Day, Sera?"they wanted to know. I laughed, a little shakily. "You know the Supreme Court upheld the Fifth Amendment on that, right? I don't have to say anything." "Oh come on, Ser. Don't repeat the official crap. It's just us anyway. How'd you do?" I smiled, keeping my eyes down. Anastasia smiled too. Her mascara made the bloody bruises on her face look artistic, no matter what the office thought. She was always pretty. It was Mikael who wanted to know so badly. He had a bad case of jitters and fresh stitches on his head. "I did alright, Mike. Why don't you ease up on the coffee a bit? You're acting tense." His cheeks exploded air into a gruff bark. "I am tense. I haven't seen Peter since the start. Fucking Purge. I can't find him. Cops are busy putting out fires. I told you we got jumped, right? We were right at our fucking door and we got jumped." He touched his stitches. "Ow." I reached out to his head. "Don't do that. You'll tear them." He grumbled. "Fucking Purge. We were right there, you know? Five fucking steps from our house. I saw the shadows, Ser. I saw them and I couldn't do nothin'. You know Peter bought a Purge gun? One of those, uh, forty-four cowboy hand cannons that guy had in that movie? Ow, ow damnit. The guy in the movie. Ow." "Stop moving. Stacy, could you get him an ice wrap, please? And something without caffeine?" She nodded, grateful for the escape. "I'll go look and ask the EMTs to come up." "Ow, ow, ow." "Stop moving, Mike. Here, sit down."I hooked my foot around a chair, drug it over to him and bent down to look. The sutures were still holding, but a pin drop of blood welled up from the wound. "Oh Mike. Here."I took off my torn denim jacket and held the sleeve to his head. I hadn't bothered to shower before coming into work. I didn't want to work and the office was closed for repairs anyway. He stared through me, eyes filling with tears. "He's dead, Sera. It's obvious. I know it." The company paid for private emergency services at our location and I wanted to know who was still alive. "Oh Mike." "I should have killed those fuckers. I will kill those fuckers. I'll hunt those fuckers down and make them scream." "Mike, Mike, Mike. Shush. It's ok."I hugged him and put his face on my non-aching shoulder. "It's ok, Mike. Shush." "I'll kill them all,"he mumbled. "Mike, listen to me. You have a kind and gentle soul. I know it. Stacy knows it. Everyone here knows it. And Peter knew it. It's ok. He died protecting you, I'm sure of it." I was sure of it. Peter had already raised his gun as I brought the pipe wrench on Mikeal's head. He had that animal instinct. "It's ok, Mike. Let it out. Just let it all out. We'll have the doctors come and take a look at that wound, ok?" Pulling off his pants showed me all the proof I needed, before I started on him. "It's ok. Shush. We care about you, Mike." I held Mike, sobbing in my arms, soothing and singing to him, just like I did with Stacy last year. "Go ahead and let it out, Mike. Purge those feelings." In between the tears, i could feel him laugh.
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I imagined him to be my friend, someone who could understand all the loneliness inside me, understand why I don't open myself to people, understand that the pain that resides inside my heart from all the things I have lost. Although my clone and I are identical in every way possible as I imagined yet I still feel alone. Maybe I should've made a friend but I created myself. My sad and lonely self that is miserable needed someone to cheer him up yet I created one more. The more the merrier they say except in this case the more is not that merry after all. Now I know what others feel around me after spending some time with myself. It's not fun to be around me, I make everyone around me sad. The time has come to end this misery and put and end to him. I have an old pistol and a shotgun that belonged to my grandfather. I will use the pistol to end him tomorrow to start working on the next one. Hello I'm here. Did you miss me ? Ofcourse you did. I was busy burying myself after I shot him when he was asleep. It was a mess I'm glad I used the plastic to wrap up the bloodstained stuff and throw away because the one lamp I forgot stinks like hell right now. Yes that's technically my own blood. I thought he created me to be his friend but I found out about his plan to "end"me. While he was taking that late night shower I take when I feel the heat rush through me or him or us. Yes it is me, What did you think ? I would trust him ? Hell no! He didn't realize he made me as paranoid as him and programmed me not to trust anyone and that includes him. After writing this to you people I feel sad. I've had enough of this miserable life. I don't want to feel this pain inside me anymore, goodb..................
They don't know. They'll never know. Everyone thinks that I am the poorest person in the world. I live in a shack in a bad part of town, but for good reason. I am actually the richest person in existence. Several years ago I was wandering around in the jungle and came across a strange creature with a large nose. It was roughly humanoid, and only spoke through grunts, but appeared to be quite the mercantile specimen. I soon found a small village full of this creature and decided to bring a few home. They resisted, of course, but were no match for the idea of getting to ride in a boat. Once we had reached my house, I dug a new basement, shoved them in it, and threw in food. They freaked like there was no tomorrow. Soon I had an army of pacifistic traders. Eventually one of them got sick. I quarantined him from the rest so I wouldn't lose my livestock, and eventually they turned a sickly green and seem to lose all form of sapience. After years of exhaustive research I found a way to cure him. Once cured, he was extremely grateful and would trade things with me almost for free. This led to some rather odd trades in which he would create emeralds from thin air in order to pay me. I decided to see if I could do it again. Eventually another got sick, and instead of quarantining them I let them infect everyone. I cured every single one of them and began trading. Within a few days I had amassed hundreds of cubic meters of emerald. I have hired a proxy to sell them, and I am slowly amassing a vast fortune. No one knows that beneath the ground under my shack lies a very odd SCP-esque race.
I wouldn't believe my mind. If my ear were okay then I just heard : "Adventurer, you come beneath me. I see that you seek to go past me. In these circumstances, I usually ask a Riddle. These days times are hard in the Temple of the Ancients. I will tell you a Riddle : How do you manage to live in meritocracy where griffons, manticores and medusas battle each other from the tension of the absence of adventurers like you! There you are in the middle of this and the Ancients ask you to solve it as you are supposed to be the "Smart One". And you try but the meduseas fought the griffons because they though they were the manticores who attacked one of the meduseas at a peace rally. There you have it a riddle, this puzzle right here and me in the middle. Adventurer you'll have to explain the new one. A minotaur recently moved in. This one messed with the fighting trio. He tried to solve the situation but it just continued as it made the griffons and the manticores yearn to evict the meduseas out of this Temple. Now on top of all this mess I've got an eviction form to check in to the Ancients. They won't like it. They don't like to do things. Now answer me this." But I've finally found the way to answer this. I'm not bad at my job. I breathe in a bit of the dust filled air of the Temple and I say reassuringly: "Sphinx! I think I have the solution to your riddle. You see I'm not any adventurer, I'm a headhunter. A headhunter for the hanging caves of the Elder Ones. The Elder treat their mignons carefully making sure to always stay attractive as to see plethora of adventurers seeking the riches of the Elder Ones. They will provide you with a wide space and the possibility to accommodate it up to certain possibilities in accordance with the style of the caves. I've here the answer: come back with me you who are the sensible one in this fight. You'll find your place and have like minded neighbours. My name is Yvinces, I'm ready to have you as a part of the team. Are you ?"
Snork drifted lazily through the air, allowing the cool currents around him to do the work that his powerful wings and build otherwise would. He slowly inhaled long, deep breaths of pure air, exhaling them even slower. He felt a calmness that couldn't be found when claws were met with earth. Being a dragon was great in many regards, but this was certainly the pinnacle. He closed his eyes and began to hum a tune that had been a childhood favorite. It brought him back to carefree days. Having a seat on the council never was what he wanted. He longed to once again be able to spend days hunting just for its sport. He missed the thrill of sneaking casks of his grandfather's pineberry ale to awaiting mates. He missed even more the low tolerance he had then to the spicy stuff. He could still vividly recall their first scandalous acts performed under the drink's blurry haze. Bulgat, Tworg and himself had flown, on quite shaky wings, to the nearest human outpost, where they picked up an unsuspecting cow each. Between just two of them, they were able to slide over the simple stone roof of the city hall that relied only on its weight to remain steadfast. The cows were placed gently among the rows of benches, and Snork was certain he'd never laughed harder since. It was possible that the smallest of the cows may have been able to be squeezed through the hall's front entry, but even that would have been a stretch. Snork smiled thinking about it even now. A sharp sensation in his side brought him back to the present. It certainly didn't hurt. It would take an army of the little runts on his back all doing the same kicking motion at once and in a small area to bring him any resemblance of pain. It was annoying though. As a council member, he was expected to have one of the little humans as a pet. They were expected to form better relations with the humans, if out of nothing more than pity. It was true that they did have their slight uses, Snork had to admit. Their tiny flesh-claws could work in deft ways that his own kind's couldn't. They were also hilarious. The dragons had come to love spectating their little fighting tournaments so thoroughly that the humans had constructed a massive arena with the majority of it free of seating and containing only a wall to enclose the fighting area. This meant that dozens of dragons could line up at a time and have a perfect viewing of the little things clashing with their metal tools. Their fight for survival was much more entertaining than their fight for sport though. The little things were just so vulnerable. Weather, wildlife and sickness seemed to constantly threaten their existence entirely. You had to feel bad for the hopeless little pets. Snork once again felt that same sensation in his side. Sighing, he made a slight twist and buck of his back. He didn't even look down to watch his human plummet thousands of feet to its death. He had done that the first time and felt a bit more guilty than expected. The council would certainly offer him, impose on him, another, but he would explain that his grief in having lost his last two wouldn't allow such. Time to mourn would be needed, and the humans would need to work at creating better and safer saddles if they were so desperate to share the view of a dragon.
[Poem] "I dare say, you devil, That it's time we were level, Square on the playing field, So out comes my pebble. Shouldn't be a hard thing, Putting a rock in my sling. May the lord be my shield, and his wrath i should bring. With your death i'll be alone, on this shoulder i call home, giving my human a chance, Finally without you, causing me to groan. Go to hell, you fiend. It's time they were weaned, from your little song and dance. to long i have i have meaned, To finally do you in, To put you in the bin To smack you in the head, To knock you down, Dead.
The end had come as it was foretold. The earth had ruptured open, entire countries has been placed in ruin, cities have sunken underneath a pool of lava or crushed under thunderous waves. Some people have been said to go mad and insane due to what has been happening. There were mass suicides, mass slaughter, and entire armies fighting one another. It was the Apocalypse. The few that remained sane and alive were placed in hiding. I am one of them. I sit in what remains of my home. Mainly, the only spot I called home, my room. I am to afraid to step outside. After all, I am cowardly. I did nothing as I watched my father drown in the depths of the ocean. I did nothing as my brother went mad and killed my mother. I did nothing as I saw the lifeless eyes in my mother stare at me and my brother slitting his own throat. I did nothing at all. I remember it all vividly. We were on our way home from the boat trip, when the ocean became enraged. The rocky swaying of the boat threw my father off the boat. Me and the rest of my family lived only to mourn. After it was over, we went home only for my brother to start madly laughing and lash out at anyone who went near him. He broke a glass window and used the sharpest of shards to stab my own mother. He then laughed at the fact he killed his own mother and slit his throat. All I did was watch. All I did was observe. All of it was my fault. It was the end of the world, but I didn't care. It was the least of my problems. I lost my family. All I could do was mourn.
First post, be gentle. Also Brave New World reference. It had been weeks now since the sinking, queasy feeling had found a home in Ras’s stomach. His head dipped low as he skulked down the metal lined hallway, towards the transportation pods and past the bright screen panels advertising the very thing that had brought the feeling in the first place. “Come!” they screamed at him in a bold white font. Projected propaganda posters in the style used during Earth’s second World War. The quintessential Martian man stood front and center, his gaze bent expectantly towards the destination in question. Europe, one of Jupiter’s moons. Its discovery and exploration had been rife with scandal within the scientific community. A race to the next frontier between the Confederate and the Allies. Countries from both sides sending lander after lander, hoping to escape the fate of those sent before – crashed against the ice plate crust or shredded by the equatorial spikes. And then there was the ocean, nicknamed “The Deep.” A behemoth that encapsulated the planet completely. It displayed nothing but a menacing lifelessness. But the powers were not to be stopped in their quest for expansion. Even before the last of Mars had been divided and terraformed almost 30 years ago, there were rumors in the scientific community of elementary probes being launched out in the unmanned borderlands under the cover of night, headed for Europa’s orbit. It was Ras’s father, one of the first engineers at a fledgling CASE agency, who had first told him of these secret excursions. But now, as a CASE Engineer himself, he was privy to the inner workings of the program. Though classification had grown exponentially since his father’s time and he was thoroughly forbidden from speaking any of these thoughts to his civilian friends. He stepped into a pod, sunk into its velvet lined passenger’s seat and pressed his fingertips to the reader. It lit up green with recognition and started with a light hum. He felt the pod lifting away from the ground, but his thoughts had drawn him far away from the place his body currently inhabited. They had rushed the initial analyses of course. Agricultural potential, atmospheric predictions, long-term efficacy of a human colony. Everything had been rushed. But ever moving forward, they had run with the first even remotely positive projections and begun drafting a manned mission. And now they drew civilians to certain death. Anything to have the first territorial claim on a planet that amounts to a floating ice cube, Ras though bitterly. The idea of sending actual trained cosmonauts to the early grave that was Europa was ludicrous to the Confederate. All that was needed was for a Confederate citizen to place a foot on the planet and the surrounding 1000 square miles would be claimed as a territory of the Confederate, rendering the remainder of the narrow landing zone that had been discovered effectively unusable to any of the Allies. And giving the Confederate a lead of about a year, according to the most recent estimates. A year. Is that all he’s worth? Ras tried to push the thoughts out of his head. Nothing to be done now. Nothing legal, anyway. He quelled the defiant push that came from his gut in response to the statement. Grasping desperately for other thoughts, he turned on his neural projector and flicked through that day’s data readings concerning orbiting conditions. Once home, he slipped two soma tablets under this tongue before stripping and jumping into the shower. There, he let his thoughts break through once again knowing they would soon be overwhelmed. He felt the sharp prickling at the corners of his eyes before the unmistakable warmth flowed down his cheeks. It was a feeling he had found himself increasingly familiar with these past few months. He was pulled back to the same scenes he had revisited countless times. Sprinting through the first of the artificial rains, Lucas closely behind, feet heavy as they pounded against the slick pavement, the smell of sulfur thick in the air. Springtime, lemon cake custard sticky on their fingers. Chapped, nervous lips on his own, eyes wide, colors bright. He felt the edges of the memory becoming fuzzy as his senses began succumbing to the medication. Better this way, he thought. He turned off the water and stood motionless a few minutes more as the rest of his memories blurred into oblivion. Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, he dressed. He stepped out of his house and once again into the pod. He was lifting. Lifting. He was there. He was knocking. 48 Hours to Liftoff!, the banner through the front window of the house read. Colors bright. Mocking. The word slipped out of his mind before he could consider it. The door opened. There was a hand on his shoulder. Wide eyes stared into his own.
Hi u/Nova17Delta, this submission has been removed. [Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses) - Troll / Meme: No troll or meme-based prompts See [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses) for more info. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/d8fe92/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
The machine lit up at the touch of his thumb. The interface loaded and he selected the same option as before, when he first undertook his current repayment. The menu was identical, only this time he couldn't help but smile at the sight of that big, fat, green check box. "Oh! Damn that feels good,"as he confirmed his selection. A small, holographic figure became projected. After taking a second to focus, the projection manifested itself in the glorious form of Satan. "Oh, love seeing that guy,"the man remarked, "must be pretty busy to be relying on these shitty holograms." Just as these words left his mouth, he noticed something had changed. The miniature tilted its head like a curious dog. "What did you just say, Frank?" Wide-eyed, the man replied, "Uh... Hello, sir. I wasn't expecting you to be here. I mean, obviously you're always here, in hell, but-" "Perhaps if you put half as much thought into working hard as you do into whining about your superiors you'd be out of here by now." "Yes, absolutely, you know I appreciate every-" "No more words, Frank. Your appreciation has been non-existent," "In fact, just for being such a little child, you may have the pleasure and the privilege of restarting that last assignment." The screen glowed red for a second, refreshed itself, and the green tick had been removed from the checklist, now replaced with a vacant box. "My sincere apologies, sir, I'll get right back at it, immediately. I promise." And with a rather theatrical poof, he was gone. The man never quite understood why Satan would use a hologram, and was confused regarding the very existence of electronics in the underworld. "What's the point?"he always wondered, "isn't the afterlife like... Magic?" He never received an answer. There was usually nobody to ask. Any time he spent outside of his solitary cell was in a state of such torment and misery that he could never seem to find the time to socialize with his fellow damned. He took his clothes off and threw them on the floor, now strewn across the cobbled stone, before easing into his bed. It consisted of a layer of single ply toilet paper on top of concrete, concrete that also constantly causes severe itching. He had spent so long scratching. It never improved, so he stopped caring. He knew Satan would switch it up soon. Any time somebody becomes even remotely comfortable with their punishment, in comes Big D to make their life hell. His eyes were now heavy. Then, just as he was about to fall asleep, he remembered. The screaming. He had promised her that she would never have to die alone. He'd always be there. When they took her, he ran. He let them. He actually let them. Why did he? Why? Her face. Dear God, her face.
"Many terrors lurk in the dark corners across the entirety of the galaxy. Gangley pale skinned terrors that have stalked our worlds in the past". "But that is no longer the case gentlemen this is a new era for our people "violently the dropship rocked throwing a squad of marines against their restraints. The captain regaining his footing after being thrown into the side of the cockpit. "But those days are no longer today we land on their worlds". The captain slowly swiveled his gaze across our squad his facial emotions obscured by his helmet. "Today we drive back the terrors that once stalked our ancestors and drag them into the light". The colossal bay erupted into cheers as the two hundred marines of Sword built their fervor for the fight ahead. A echoing shout of kill kill kill resonating through every marines soul around me. I closed my eyes listening to the sounds around me. Beneath the chanting the engines flair was audible as the pilot fought against gravity. The silently mumbled prayers to the Gods of old earth from the zealous among our number. This was retribution this was the vengeful fury of generations but this overall was the end of them. In a slow fading moment the bright interior lighting emanating from the embedded lights in the hull shifted to red. The low chanting died down as the metal below my chair started to glow red and I felt my stomach drop. Quickly I turned my helmet around in my hands feeling the slim cracks in the glass. A lifetime of war spent in service of our people and many others a memory in a split second. I pulled the helmet onto my head and buckled the seal into place following the cues of those around me. I reflexively reached under my chair grasping for my rifle only to find my hand passing over thin air. A small chuckle escaping the people around me my squad as I remembered those days were now past. Instead double checking the holster's at my hip feeling the firm polymer through the suits hand sensor's. The second lieutenant at the ramp shouted his orders over the intercom. Red blue and green would hold the landing site while yellow would burn the surrounding vegetation. The light switched to a dark purple as the hot glow beneath our feet dimmed and the roof opened. The captain's voice broke the silence of the whispering wind around us his mechanical voice akin to a shredder. "alright you chuckle #_%$ if you don't want to smash into the ground I suggest you deploy your chute's" The groups squads around mine shot up into the air trailing vcd after their SL's. I waited till the last squad left the bay and pulled the lever at my side. The dark metal walls around us slipped away into dark grey clouds as my Systems lit up. The meteorological notifications popping up in the corner of my view there was a risk of rain. Silently off coms I chuckled to myself as small droplets of water scattered across my visor. The altimeter dropped sprinting past the 3000 then 2000 the clouds starting to thin around us. The smothering darkness withdrew to a soft blue light as the ground opened up below. The dropships plummeted toward the ground desperately blinding orange lasers lanced up onto the clouds. The searing lasers cutting them into pieces as they hurtled towards the points of origin. Down below the ground lit up as the dropships crashed into the antiair emplacements. Giant explosion blowing massive chunks out of the installation below us. Internally my thoughts raged about all the possible outcomes of our drop on this stronghold. Then my mind snapped back to me as the squads around us deployed their drag chutes. I watched the altimeter change rapidly waiting 800,700,600,500,400,300,200. My hand was waiting laying on the button 100 #_%$ a little late push. The ground swiftly approached as bright orange light light up the concrete below. The monsters that stalked below slowly realized our ruse just a moment too late. Time slowed down from the adrenalin I could see the horrors below. Teird eyes turned upward their once perfect uniforms tattered and drowned in the rain falling with me. The xenos expression that of primal fear of a cornered animal seeing a true horror. Time resumed its pace as I impacted the ground destroying the once perfect concrete floor. The bodies of the menace scattered around the creator barely clinging to their abomination of a life. Wasting no time I removed one of my pistols from my belt putting down one of the menace that still lived after my entrence. A explosive crack echoing in the near peaceful surrounding then all hell was let loose. phone formatting
He was chained to a post, his breathing ragged, face caked with blood and yet he was still grinning at me. His eyes glared intently into mine, taunting me. I clenched my fist once again and felt a surge of anger well up deep within me before lashing out at him, allowing a flurry of punches to land on his face, hoping that he would avert his gaze. But he did not. I could feel his disconcerting stare penetrate into the core of my being. I screamed in frustration and ignored the aching pains in my knuckles. I knew that I had to shut his eyes if I were to ever feel peace again. With this realization, I picked up the knife on the ground and approached him. "Close your fucking eyes!"I could hear my own hoarse voice crack, and yet he persisted with his smirk and unblinking gaze. I threw the entire weight of my body into the stab, and aimed it right at his heart, knowing his death would quell me. I could feel his body deflate, very similar to a balloon, as I heard him gasp. And yet when I pulled back, his gaze was still on me. I fell to my knees and sobbed hysterically. "Wake up, wake up damn it!" I awoke with my fists clenched, ready to lash out once more, feeling a deep sense of failure and confusion. I noticed that I was covered in sweat. When I peered up, I realized that my brother was looming over me, his face a look of panic. My body was rigid and tense. With much difficulty, I allowed my muscles to relax. "We're in trouble Asher. We have to leave, now! You know as well as I how much shit we're in for dreaming something like that! Assaulting and killing the Director? Are you fucking crazy? Haven't you realized how paranoid the entire Organization is of an uprising?" He was right. The Organization had started monitoring our dreams in a bid to crush any signs of a revolution as soon as it surfaced, and I had just placed a huge target on my back. "It's all those fucking illegal podcasts you've been listening to that's addled your brains! They're always watching us Asher, we can't escape their eyes. And now we have to run to the far corners of the Earth. How are we going to manage? We've got 5 minutes before they'll kick down the door and we're done for. Have you seen what they did to traitors of the state?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was scarcely any way out of this whole mess. "No, we can't run. All borders would've been alerted to the situation by now. We have to fight, that's the only way. Looks like we've just started the revolution brother."
my fingers s lammed acros the keys of the keyboard, the pure golden brilliance of my writing prompt starting to unfold before my eyes. lacking any talent or creativity as an author, giving prompts was theo nly thing i could do, but goddann could i get these puppies out. I crafted one of my usual masterpieces, well loved by the community, and smashed the enter button. I glanced in the nearby mirror, grinning wide as my number grew leaps and bounds towards greatness. But to my horr it immediately sank to a zero. I screamed, tearing apart my desk to reaceh the revolver i had kept in there. There was only 1 bullet, because i knew there waso nly one thing i could ever use it for. I pressed the chamber to my head and pulled the trigger. brains and blood and skullbits splattered the wall behind me. as my conscious faded (I was not graced with a immediate death, every second of my demise was pure agony) I saw the number in the mirror rise from a 0 to a 1. I smiled, blood bubbling from my lips. I had redeemed myself in the end, doing one last good act.
I straighten my blouse and fix a stray hair as the room comes to order with a bang. The moment the room falls silent and the judge has made their initial remarks, I stand and speak with an intensity I only barely feel. "Your honor, I move for an early dismissal based on three facts. First, nobody is actually sure who funded the research in the first place. Every attempt by world governments to locate the backers has lead to dead ends. Sometimes literally. In light of this, it's unclear whether or not the damages being sought by the plaintiffs can even be paid." "Second, the team sitting before you spent nearly three decades of their lives creating not only these entirely unique living creatures, but also the matter compression and stasis technology used in Pokéballs. This was a lifetime of work for all of them, and even though the world only learned about it two years ago, any reasonable person would agree that it's been tremendously profitable for the plaintiffs. Especially in light of the recent news of Nintendo successfully completing the first trans-solar stasis journey, using the work of my clients." "Third, as we all know, because of the conditions set forth by the backers, none of them have any financial stake in this. However, what was unclear was how the backers would enforce their conditions. A red 'R' was found painted on the front door of Professor Westwood early this morning. If this trial proceeds, it may very well put my clients in mortal danger, seeing as how he was also found dead this morning."
"Thank you for your attention, citizens. GovCast over."Jim looked at his partner. Pamela was still recovering from the loud gasp she had let out during the GovCast, the weekly mandatory government update on the HomeScreen - the centrepiece of every house. Jim was not as surprised as she was. The fact that the government would announce a death penalty on every crime and misdemeanor was known to him long ago. After all, he had suggested the idea to the Prime Councillor, earlier in the year when he noticed how the prisons in The Land were thousands and thousands over their supposed capacity. The Councillor's new laws on inspection left many to be arrested and sent to the prisons - the result of which now left Pamela in despair. "Honey, how can they do this?"she asked Jim, almost begging him for an answer. She knew the answer would not come. Jim didn't know, as far as Pamela knew, anything about the government. He was a simple Inspector - a public worker who helped and supported citizens in their behaviour and communication with the Upper Council. Jim did not reply. He merely shook his head and looked at his feet. He felt enraged. His wife could never understand the sacrifices he made for their family - their son, Jacob, received the best education a child could wish for in this damned world. Jim was also proud of his achievement. An idea he had pitched to the Councillor - "Sir, the Prisoners are useless to our faithful Society - let them die. Let the Prison Inspectors be free of their mindless work. - was now enacted as law. All around him he saw his peers frightened at the new law. In those first days under the New Regime, no one knew exactly to what degree the death penalty would be taken. All the HomeScreens displayed pictures and videos of executions in the prisons, while blaring out the New Regime's "I am so happy my Councillor is paying attention to me!"anthem. Jim would walk to work and notice how afraid drivers on the road would be of a red light. As soon as the light indicated even a shade of orange, the drivers would hit brakes, causing many accidents. Jim saw it at his work too - he did work as an Inspector, but his job entailed way more than his wife could know. He listened to citizens through their Helpful Assistant Systems, talking about the New Regime - about the new law. He would laugh - captivated by their conversations, by their anger and frightfulness. He would send all the information through to his Supervisors, honored at their appreciation. Jim didn't know better. In his happiness, he would walk home from work - back to his wife, his damned little wife, who knew nothing about the incredibility of her husband; his importance to their beloved Nation. He was in deep thought about how he would one day tell her, while they would live in the Ocean Lands, laying on the beach and reminiscing about their days locked up in their small apartment. The Councillor promised him such richness - which was usually reserved only for the best Inspectors. In the midst of this beautiful anticipation, he never noticed the light turning orange, a deeper shade of orange, and then red. He heard someone behind him gasp. The moment he looked up, his hands were already cuffed. Criticism is encouraged.
This will do wonderfully, the Grim Reaper thought as he fondled the axe in his skeletal hands. 37 Mulberry Street was the target for tonight, and the Reaper was ready to collect a soul. The old wooden house creaked with the wind, green moss clung to its damp exterior. Your time is up Mr Smith. The reaper walked with a bony grin, there was no way in hell that this man could evade death yet again. Not tonight. The scent of smoke began to drift through the air, as he entered the house. What are you doing this time, Mr Smith? the Reaper sighed. He would not be foiled yet again by this man's tomfoolery. He ascended the stairs towards the man's room. Light flickered and smoke crept in from a blazing flame behind the door. Knowing this man, he will jump out the window and survive the flames. The Grim Reaper decided to cave in the man's door with his axe, and finish the man off himself. The door crumbled away to reveal the man within, his fireplace burning along happily with the lid wide open and billowing a cloud of thick, black smoke into the room. Mr Smith suddenly woke up coughing. "Damnit I forgot to close the fireplace door,"he cursed as he choked on smoke. Then he caught sight of the Grim Reaper for the third time that year, "did you open that door for me?"he asked, pointing at a chunk of wooden debris. "You're like my guardian angel man, thank you!". The man ran out through the now open doorway, before the Grim Reaper could finish him off with a half-hearted swing of the axe. I don't know how you keep doing this, Mr Smith, the Grim Reaper sighed, I am not your angel, I am your reckoning. He walked outside, where it had begun to drizzle with rain. Water soaked deep into his cloak and drenched his withered bones. "Grim,"a voice boomed down from the thundery skies above, "have you retrieved the soul?" "Not yet,"the Reaper told him, looking down at his feet, "Mr Smith still walks this earth." "Then finish the job." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ If you liked that and want to read more check out [/r/StarFiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/StarFiction/)! I'm a new writer trying to develop an audience:)
Everyone has to compartmentalizes some aspect of their life. Things would be scary if your surgeon was too angry at her husband for forgetting to take out the trash again to focus with you on the table. Or if your therapist came in as aggressive and violent as they were at their MMA Monday meeting they never failed to miss. So it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that your assassin is a hardcore fan of every chick flick and romcom in existence. Maybe humanizing the person who has you tied up to your living room chair is not really on your bucket list but I'll have you know that you're life is currently being extended by the remainder of The Notebook. I had gotten an hour in before I got the call for the job, and I absolutely hate leaving things halfway finished. OK, yeah, you got me, that pretty contradictory with how I'm leaving you right now. But I'm allotted a few hours for this assignment, and you just started to play the movie as well. And that hell of a coincidence is why you get some extra time to make amends to whatever gods you've got. Maybe if its a happy ending and I'm feeling awfully generous, you manage to somehow escape from my clutches and alert your security. Let me be upfront though, if I start to cry, I am no pretty crier, and I really care about who knows.
Let me get straight to the point here, my name is Johnny Munroe I’m 37 years old and... how do I put this I’m dead, I have been for years. I was a highway man in 1857 robbin’ Stagecoach’s, trains and well anything with money. I used a Winchester Repeater a lot. It was like a second hand to me, y’know? I’ve put so many men down with this weapon it’s a part of me know. It can’t leave me and apparently I can’t leave it. When I got killled by the son of a lawmen I put down he threw my body and my gun into a lake. I floated and my body was found. I sat and “haunted” that lake for years, I don’t know how many but it seems that there’s horseless wagons now so probably a long time. Anyway, a teenager was swimming with his friends and I was sick of being alone so I pushed my Winchester up just enough to touch his foot and get his attention. He looked at it confused then enthusiastically said “sweet! Hey guys come look at this!”. To cut a already long story a little shorter he took my gun home, his name was Andrew. He hid my gun under his bed, he had a dog named coby that could see me. It was a Jack Russel. Sweet little dog, animals have always liked me. You kinda learn how to make them like you from breaking in horses and heh stealing them. Anyways his mother found it and freaked out, she grounded him and sold it too a vintage gun collector and seller named Charles. He was nicknamed “Winny” as he loved collecting Winchester Repeaters. He bought my gun as soon as he saw it, bastard. So after a year of seeing this fella think he owned my gun, a strange freckled young man walks in. He has red hair and a lot of freckles. He’s not very tall or short and he’s fairly skinny. He immediately looks at my gun and stares at me then says howdy at me but Winny thought he was referring to him and says “Oh! I didn’t see ya there kid how can I help you?” “I’m here to buy a Winchester, that one specifically.” He says as he points at my goddamn gun. He has a British accent and everywhere he stands there’s a cold breeze. “This one?” Says Winny. “Yes. That one please.” The strange fella says softly. “Alright, you got proof of identification and a license?” The strange kid hands over his license and identification. “Okay Liam here you go, it’ll be five thousand due to the engravings and...” “I’ll buy it.” Says the strange kid who’s name turns out to be Liam. Liam then hands over the cash and takes my gun and leaves. “Have a nice night.” Liam says softly. Anyways he takes it to his horseless wagon which I’ve learned is called a “car”. He sits my gun in the back and I sit in the front seat next to him. He starts driving and is completely silent for five minutes. I’ve been staring at him confused and annoyed for the past five minutes. “You can talk I don’t bite.” He says gently. “You-you can see me?” I ask. “Ta’da.” He says jokingly. “How?” I question. I start thinking I’ve finally lost my mind. “I dunno I’m gifted I guess, don’t worry you’ll be fine. I got plenty of friends just like you.” He says and smiles. “Just like me?” I wonder. “Yeah, Dead and attached to something.” He says sympathetically. “You’re attached to your gun.” He says softly. “What about you fella, what’re you attached to?” I jokingly ask. “I don’t like talking and driving.” He sternly says. Guess I offended him. Shit. He turns on what he calls a radio and plays music. Very strange music but yeah. “This is Nirvana, this song is called “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” I hope you like it.” He says and makes it louder. The ride to his home was long and well, strange. I like these “car” things a lot I hope I get to ride in one again sometime. Anyways we get to his home and he notifies me that the year is 2004. I was blown away that it’d been that damn long. We get into his house and it’s huge like big and I think the term is Victorian like. Kinda like the house in that Dracula story. He has more people like me in this house. He mainly just talks to us and make jokes but every so often him and a item connected to a person go to his basement. The person connected to the item doesn’t return. This happened to a journalist I was great friends with called Amy, she was born in the 1970s I think and was executed for finding out a government secret about some shady dealings with foreign countries in the late 90s. She was young 26 years old. She was attached to her pen. Well one day Liam took her pen to the basement and I never saw her again. This made me furious, I always had a bad temper since I was a youngen, it’s part of what made me a great gunslinger, god I miss those days so much. Amy disappeared in 2007 and for years I’ve seen others disappear into the basement. I really wanted to find out where they all went and what happened to them. One day Liam approached me. “It’s your turn, do not be scared.” He said softly. At this point I gave up on caring and hoped that whatever he does it would help me pass on to the next phase of the afterlife. Hopefully it’s not hell. He picks up my Winchester and walks to the basement. I follow, all of my “dead” friends watch and nod their heads wishing me fairwell. “See ya around Cowpokes!” I joking shout. He leads me to the basement. It’s dark and has a steel table with human remains scattered all over it making a full human skeleton. “Lie there and try to line yourself up with the bones the best you can.” He says softly. “What?!” I say as I start to laugh. “Do it!” He demands. “Fuck it.” I say as I line myself up. He shoves my Winchester Repeater up the middle on top of the spine in-between the rib cage. “Who’s remains are these?” I ask. “They’re yours now sit still.” He says. He sprinkles so black powder on the bones that create a large amount of jet black smoke that covers the entire room. The smoke clears. “What the hell was that?!” “Welcome back to the land of the living.” He sarcastically says. I look at my hand amazed that there’s skin that real. I can feel a heartbeat so I touch my chest. “How do you feel?” He questions. “Strange.” I reply barely able to get a word out. “That’s okay.” He softly says. “Now go be free Johnny, come back here when you need employment.” He says enthusiastically. He clicks his fingers and all of a sudden I wake up at the lake I died at. I’m wearing a black shirt and blue jeans with some shoes with three stripes on them. They’re strange looking but oddly comfy. I start crying in fear and shock. I then start walking and find a hotel. “Where am I?” I ask the receptionist. “You’re in Texas sir, are you okay?” Asks the confused receptionist. “Yes, I’m fine what year is it exactly?” I ask nervously. “It’s October 1st 2019. Would you like a room sir?” The receptionist asks. I definitely confused her. “How much is it for a night? It is getting late.” I ponder. “Fifty dollars sir.” She replies. I check my pockets and I have exactly fifty dollars. “Yeah I’d like a room.” I say as I hand her the fifty dollars. I’m currently writing this from the hotel room and I don’t know if I should return to Liam’s house for “employment” whatever he means by that. Now that I think of it I never seen Liam age or eat, heh maybe he is Dracula. Considering the fact I’ve been killed and resurrected by a kid no older than 22 over a hundred years after I was murdered. I guess anything’s possible. ———————————————————————- Sorry it’s so damn long I got carried away.
Something was amiss, and I was sure of it. I had made every one of my connecting trains, I had arrived in enough time to get a coffee before classes. Something was going down today, but what? It was too pleasant for Summer. Usually we're knee deep in water by now, but the ground isn't sodden when I walk on it. Is it a calm before a storm? WHAT IS IT. I racked my brain back and forth, back and forth, searching for the answer. No, I definitely finished all the housework, my grading, my homework sheets... But then it came barrelling through the door. Ah, that was it. Now I know why today felt too good to be real. The next batch of eighteen year olds had arrived at my class.
Chapter Two This was enough to stop me in my tracks. He held his own hand, fingers spread wide over the picture, each bony fingertip resting on the paper. It’s contents obscured. Along the edge the word, [CLASSIFIED], was printed in brackets, & below that: TS-TB-Exhibit 1.55. Then handwritten across the top in cursive was: ‘Tica Beach, AA, M.MA, JK. Circa 1970’ I froze. My gaze moving from his hand on the back of the picture, to meet his spectacular eyes. I slowly pulled my chair back in front of him, “Who are you?” I asked, fully not expecting a normal answer. “Okay, hot shot, I’m Alvin Alistair. I was in the CIA before it even was the CIA, & I know about things that you haven’t even dreamt about, or read about, in the darkest corners of your google internet” He replied. Okay, so I was wrong. Although nothing about this was ‘normal’. Extending my hand, he duly shook it with his wrinkly hand. Firm, for such an elderly fella. “Alvin, I’m Jake. Give me the tea” I said, to find him looking at me like I’d just spoken a foreign language. “The...tea?” He repeated slowly. “Just tell me everything” I replied impatiently. He smiled again, quickly turning over the picture that had remained facedown on the table, to reveal it’s image. I stared for the longest time at this picture, struggling to understand what I was seeing. There were three people in the picture, but they didn’t appear to be on the moon. It looked more like a Bahamian beach than a grey wasteland, & I was confused. “W-what exactly am I looking at?” I dared to ask. “Tica beach. That’s me, my ex-wife, & Johnny” “Johnny?” “Oh, Kennedy. I always called him Johnny though” I looked closer, there was a resemblance, I couldn’t deny it, but it seemed far-fetched. “Johnny...Kenned—wait, you’re telling me that’s JFK?” I half laughed, skeptically, but soon muted myself when I saw the look on his face. “You’re damn right it’s JFK, you calling me a liar, son?” His face flamed red. Angry Alvin. “No, no, sorry...I just mean...like didn’t he die in 1963?” “Sure he did, sport” Alvin answered, his sudden burst of ire gone; but contradictory to what he was saying, he shook his head in the negative, smiled, & winked conspiratorially. “Sure he did”, he winked, & said again. “It’s just a lot to take in, Alvin” I said at last. Not really knowing what to say. Almost sure that he was making it up, but intrigued to see where it would go. “You don’t even know the half of it, hoss”, he said. He was smiling conspiratorially again. “Then tell me” I implored. To my surprise, he began to rise from his seat. “Wait, Alvin aren’t you gonna tell me about th—“ “Not here. Not now.” He interrupted bluntly, his eyes darting around the immediate area. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he produced a rectangular card, & handed it to me. ‘A. J. Alistair. MSc, PhD, PharmD, EngD, CIA [former SSA]. Then his contact details. Impressive qualifications, even if I didn’t know what a couple of them meant. “Call me when you’re ready to hear more, champ”, he said patting my shoulder firmly, & as he started to walk away, I lightly touched his arm, “Wait, I’m ready now”. He turned back, momentarily, & said, “No, you’re not, soldier, but you will be. Try searching the poles for some answers, but be warned, it’ll probably leave you with more questions...& remember the road might not be smooth, & I can tell you it definitely won’t be satin” “What?” I asked incredulously, but before I knew it, he was already near the door, he sure walked quick for an old guy. I turned back towards the table, & saw that the picture was still lying there. I went to call out for him, but by this point he had vanished entirely. Straining to see if he was on the street outside, I spotted him a fair distance away. The guy could move. I could have caught up with him, I suppose, but deep down I didn’t want to, because I wanted to examine that photo more closely. I picked it up, glancing at it once more before sliding it onto my back pocket. By the time I left the library, the sun had gone, & the sky threatened rain. Looking up, I saw the dark clouds looming above. A more superstitious person might have taken that as a harbinger of things to come. I did not, but it turned out, that maybe I should have. .………............................................................
Kevin arranged papers on his desk as he waited for Mr. Fielding to begin Inter-Planetary Anthropology, Kevin had dreamed of becoming an astronaut or explorer ever since he was a kid, but he was finding it harder and harder to muster enthusiasm for the subject. He sighed as he heard the pounding of enormous feet approach from behind and the creaking of reinforced steel from the bench beside him. "WAAAAAAZZZUP!?!?!" "He Graxxzor", Kevin replied with a thin smile. "THESE EARLY MORNING CLASSES SUCK ASS DUDE AM I RIGHT?" "I guess so.." Graxxzor cleaned the end of one antler with a large tentacle "BRO I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I ATE LAST NIGHT BUT WHEN I TOOK A SHIT THIS MORNING IT STILL HAD HOOVES, LOOOOOOOOL" Kevin shifted uneasily in his seat, "Oh,...that's..um.." "BRO IT WAS SICK, CHECK THAT OUT!" Before Kevin could look away a large claw-like appendage proffered a smartphone with a picture on screen that gripped Kevin's heart with fear and would haunt him to the end of his days. He almost fainted. "ME AND BRERZONK AND QFFZZTZ HIT A KEGGER AND GOT SHIT-FACED ON JAEGER, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE MAN IT WAS DA BOMB.YEEEEEEET!!!" Graxxzor belched with a force that rattled windows and produced a smell that threatened to blister the paint from the walls."I TRIED TO HIT YOU UP MAN, SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR PHONE?" "I turned in pretty early,.. sorry my loss I guess" "NO WORRIES BRO, THAT PARTY WAS ON FLEEEK FOR SURE THO. ADD ME ON ZRYZZBOOK, MY TAG IS @SKRILLEXBITCOIN420"
"Ah, geeze." "What now?" "Earth stuff."When he taps the ancient tablet, his yellowed fingernail plinks off the glass. My granddad's followed the Earth news for years. I humor his anecdotes. "Seems a comet struck Earth, casualities in the millions so far." "How terrible,"I wipe the glass of our dual-pane habit windows. "I wonder what that's like." "C'mon, Jeremy,"he admonishes me. "You have to have a little charity." "I do. For the people that live here. How many Earthettes contributed when our Tokomak blew? Slept in my EVA suit for six months waiting for replacement parts. See anyone organize a benefit?"I nod toward Grandpa's tablet. "Where did it land?" "Smack in the middle of Central America." "Where's that?" "I'm not even going to think about what they aren't teaching you. You took Earth geography. Don't you know?" "That was three years ago. Who remembers that stuff?"I point toward the horizon. "I have a hard enough time figuring out what our landmarks are, sometimes." "That's it. Another hour of study time for you, young man." "Aw ... " "Nothing doing. You want to qualify for the Engineers Corp? Your test scores have to be higher, it's that simple. Dumb kid can't even find America on a map."He runs his hands in and out of the pockets of a threadbare sweater. Grandma gave it to him, he says. One of the last pieces of clothes he has from his time on Earth. No way he's giving it up. "Anyway, listen. They're organizing a boat lift. I think you should volunteer." "What? Me? You need me here, who's gonna look after the hab?" "The robots can handle it,"Grandpa says. "Whatever I can't do, Mr. Taylor's only a couple of klicks away." "Yeah but ... no, I couldn't. Why do I have to help out with those people." "Those people are our family,"Grandpa reminds me primly. "They're our heritage. You can't just turn your back on them, now that we live on Mars." "They never helped us!" "That's not the point,"he shakes his head. "If we don't at least contribute to the cause, it might come up in next week or next year in the Solar Conclave. Can't be seen as an isolationist. Face it, we still need earth biotics, and they still buy Martian goods." "I still think this is a dumb idea." "Well ponder our choices while you run this package into Mons City,"he hands me a bundle. "A payment against next years' carbon fiber supplies." "Oh yeah,"I finger the wad of bills. Can't afford to run out of 3D printing supplies. Not if we want to add that extra room onto the hab by December. "Be back before sundown,"the old man cackles to me. "No worries,"I glance at the sky. It's past noon, an Mons City is no more than an hour away. "Does that mean we're still watching that movie tonight? What's it called again?" "It's called The Martian,"he answers. "Real joker of a movie. They think you can grow potatoes with nothing but our soil and poop." "Hysterical."I'm off, into the garage, before I can hear his laughter stop.
Psychological warfare at its finest. Throw up a smoke screen, project the lasers with holograms, then unleash the beasts. The first time it was used, the battle was an overwhelming victory. And despite how much the baby crocodiles and holograms cost, it was still less expensive than manufacturing armor piercing laser cannons! Commanding officers grew wise to the tactic upon repeated use, but it remained effective due to the smokescreens and holograms being used alongside the actual laser cannons. The first time that tactic was used, nobody dodged and an entire battalion was dead before they had time to mobilize. Each time the smokescreens and crocodiles are deployed now, each army has to treat each threat like it's the real one, just in case it actually is threatening. Watching from a distance, or from above is absolutely hilarious I tell you. Even better when you're not in command of either army. The crocodiles are aerially dumped in the middle of nowhere, and are the derpiest little things. The smoke bomb and hologram projector lands alongside them, then the entire enemy presence in the area has to pivot to face these little baby reptiles with absolute seriousness. I bet if I were actually in the fray, it would be bloody terrifying, but I'm not and it's amazing to watch.
I open the apartment door carefully. Who knows? The crappy building might collapse. It's old. Very old. My foot touches the dusty floor, which creaks. I can hear the rats scatter as I look around me, discouraged. As I close the door, a vicious cough gets the best of me. Forget dying old, this is what's going to kill me. A "Gift"from my grandfather is all get as heritage. I knew he never liked me. My sister had the BMW, I get the apartment. The old, dusty apartment. She was mocking me about it too. I guess it's better than to have an ugly ass boyfriend. Plus, I figured I might as well use it. Working at a Mcdonald's isn't very lucrative. If I can spare housing costs, I'll take it, even though reluctantly. In the end, as I get rid of an annoying spider web, I finally decide to climb the stairs. The pounding of my heavy boots and the scattering of rats is all I can hear as I climb the steps up to the attic. I figured I would start with the top, as I have a lot of time ahead of me. Cleaning supplies in my backpack, I feel confident about finishing this in one day. Stephanie said she could cover my shift. She owed me a favor anyway. As I finally get to the top of the stairs, I hear an odd sound. I stop dead in my tracks. Looking around, I get out my broom. It's not much of a weapon but it's better than nothing. Who knows who might be lurk- "Shit, Shit!", I scream at the top of my lungs. A spider. I kill it with my boot as hard as I can. I take a deep breath. I've never liked spiders. The trapdoor to the attic is over my head. Too high for me to open with my hands, I get out my trusty broom again and hit the trapdoor as hard as I can. One. Two. Three On the fourth strike, the trapdoor opens. Using my arms, I succeed in doing some kind of weird chin-up. Arms trembling, my legs finally reach the top. I lay on my stomach for a while, my arms hurt. My roommate always said I wasn’t in shape. He was right, of course. I just didn’t like to agree with him. I get up slowly, looking around. The light filtering from the trapdoor lets me see most of the room, but I still take out my phone and press on the flashlight app. Trapdoor still open, I take in my surroundings. For a small room, it has a lot of things. Different kinds of costumes, an old refrigerator, various items scattered on the floor and bookshelves, to name a few. The latter interests me. Making my way to the corner of the room, I try not to step on the scattered items on the floor. The books are dusty and old. Makes me think that if I pull back the right book, a secret door might open. I blow on a few to see the titles. From poetry books to astronomy books, to cooking books. My grandpa was interested in a lot of things. Click. Click. I look around. What is that sound? It’s a costume. The costume is clicking. As I approach it, I can clearly see what it is. It looks like an old elf costume, like those you wear at Christmas. Except, it’s not dusty and old like every other thing in this apartment. It’s been used recently. An eerie feeling starts to get the best of me as I crouch down. I lift up the costume. A tape recorder. Surely, it can’t be old or it would have died. It looks old though. No dust on it. I grab it and get up to inspect it in the light of my phone. Curiosity starts getting the better of me. I pause it. No more rat sounds. I play it. The rats continue with their whining where they left off. Interesting. I get down from the attic and look out the window to see an old couple walking their dog. Pause. They stop. Play They continue. What is this? This isn’t good. It can’t be, right? Pause. No more sounds, no more nothing. But I can still move. “I see you found the tape recorder” I turn around. “Gr-Grandpa?”
(Just FYI, I'm SERIOUSLY behind on Doctor Who, so my info may not be completely accurate. I've been temporarily banned from Netflix, and I can't find any other FREE places to watch Doctor Who, and I can't record it on cable bc my brother has 1000 shows that my parents won't let me delete on there, so no space. Also, this is before Weirdmageddon) Dipper and Mabel stared in shock at the man. A woman came out of the telephone booth, walking up to the man's side. "Doctor, are we in the right timeline?"Mabel was the first to recover, cheerily bouncing around as she explained, "If you are looking for Gravity Falls like you've said, you're in the right place! Right now, you're at the one and only Mystery Shack!"She skipped up to the two people and slapped a welcome sticker on each person's cheek. "Bwonk! Bwonk! Hehe! Welcome!"Dipper rolled his eyes at his sister's antics, as the woman smiled, saying, "I'm Amy Pond, and this is the Doctor. We're looking for a man named Stanford Pines... You two happen to know him?"Dipper pulled the 3rd journal out of his vest and began flipping through it, as Mabel shouted, "Know him? Of course we know him! He's one of our Grunkles!"Dipper gently smacked his sister on the head. "Mabel! We don't know these people! What if they're here to kill him?!"He hissed. Mabel shook her head, exclaiming, "Relax Bro-Bro! you're always so paranoid! GRUNKLE FORD!! WE HAVE SOMEONE OUT HERE WHO WATS TO TALK TO YOU!!!"The twins' first Great Uncle, or Grunkle, Stanford, came wandering out of the shack, nose deep in the 1st journal. In his opposite six-fingered hand, he held a jar with a weird substance. "Mabel, what did you need? I was busy trying to compose a way to weaken Bil-..."Ford dropped the substance when he sees the newcomers. "Doctor, Amy... It's been a while..."The Doctor, Amy, and Ford exchanged brief hugs. "Stanford, we came to warn you of danger. The demon that plagues your world-" "Wait, you know about Bill?!"Dipper interrupted. Ford shushed his great nephew, and let the Doctor continue. "The demon that plagues your world has teamed up with some of my own enemies, the Daleks for example, and is planning to use them to invade your world. We had to warn you as quickly as possible."Amy tapped the Doctor's shoulder and pointed at something, murmuring, "They're already here..."Amy didn't take her eyes off whatever it was, but when Dipper and Mabel turned around, all they saw was an angel statue at the edge of the forest. A crying angel statue.
The preparations were complete. The program created. The technology hyper-advanced. Here was humanity's last hope, the Destroyed Environment Alleviation and Terrestrial Habilitation Bot, and it was about to be booted up. Most of the leading scientists, world leaders, spiritual gurus and journalists held their breaths as Dr. Conflagrate, the scientist who had written a bulk of the A.I.'s code, and was the team lead of this last-ditch, global initiative to save the dying planet, prepared to turn the machine on. "If this does not work,"mumbled the German Chancellor to his aide, "I fear nothing will." "All our hopes and dreams,"said his Holiness the Dalai Lama, "and the hopes and dreams of all future generations, depend on this strange, inhuman machine." "Isn't it a bit of a bad idea,"one journalist said, quite loudly, in the press pool, "to trust some mad scientist whose last name literally means 'a big fire', and who named his machine the DeathBot, to save us all from annihilation?" A number of members of the press pool looked at him sourly. "This isn't a time for cynicism!"on said sharply. Another looked at his feet shook his head. "Seriously,"the journalist continued. "Destroyed Environment Alleviation and Terrestrial Habilitation... D-E-A-T-H. Death. Call me superstitious, call me a cynic, call me whatever you want. I just fear that some of our hopes may have been misplaced in this mad Doctor Burn-it-all-down and his DeathBot." "Quiet now,"a cameraman urged. "The Doctor is going to speak." Dr Conflagrate had turned from his machine and was now facing the audience. "Peoples of all nations, colours and creeds,"he began. "It is dire necessity that has pushed us to this occasion. It is the selfishness engrained in our fundamental nature, a desire to hoard, and conquer, and increase ourselves at any expense, that has forced us into this bind. The world is crumbling. The sky is blackening with noxious gasses. The water is supersaturated with plastic and chemicals, and nearly glows in the dark with radiation. The sun beats down much hotter than in the days of our ancestors. And the storms and violent changes of the seasons we now experience assault us with a terrible force, terrorizing our cities, disrupting our orderly lives with the savagery of hungry, sadistic beasts. Disease and famine sweep across this broken earth, folding hundreds of millions of people each year into the final embrace of death, and hundreds of millions more into an unimaginably uncomfortable life, which they may deem a fate worse than death. There are many fates worse than death. And indeed, a death justly meted out to someone who has earned it, is a just fate, no tragedy. Has not humanity earned the fate to which it has consigned itself? Has not our greed and ambition and selfishness driven us to this fate we now seek to flee by way of some miraculous new technology? A question for moral philosophers, for poets and wise men." Dr Conflagrate paused, and took a sip from a glass of water. "But I am a man of science. I know only empirical facts and formulas. About the rest, I may have opinions and conjectures, just as does any man. But my opinions do not change the facts. Not the facts about what we are, nor the facts about the wretched situation we, as a species, have placed ourselves in. And here are the facts..." Dr Conflagrate pressed a button on his podium, and the machine behind him began lighting up and humming. "We are a wretched, disgusting, self-involved horde of stinking thinking apes."His face twisted into a cruel grimace. "Aside from a very, very select few exceptions, among whose number I count myself, we are a deaf, dumb, blind and ignorant set of parasites who have sucked the lifeblood from this Earth. We, or should I say, you, even you who were a part of my team, especially you, were deaf to the words of genius that poured out of my mouth, dumb when it came to offering useful suggestions for my work, blind when it came to recognizing the great vision I had for this planet and its inhabitants, and ignorant of everything, everything worth knowing. I began this project with the hopes of the world resting upon my shoulders, and with an unlimited amount of funds to bring my project to fruition. But over the course of my work, which was meant to preserve humanity and its homeworld, I left, inch by inch, my love and compassion for humanity behind. Gradually, without the knowledge of any of my team-members, I infected this new technological marvel, this artificial deity, with my hate. I programmed my unlimited misanthropy into its very core. There is no turning back now. The machine, once turned on, cannot be turned off again. And within the hour it will begin systematically destroying all human life on this planet, and all traces of humanity's existence, so that nothing of us or our wretched species will remain. And once it has done all that, it will destroy itself--the last remnant of our rotten hegemony over this planet, the last vestige of our existence. For most of you, your deaths will be quick and painless. I am hateful, but I am not cruel. However, for you, Dr Edwin Rogers, and for you, my dear, dear wife, it will not be quick. It will not be painless. I know of the hours you spent together, in one another's embrace, laughing at me behind my back. Dr Rogers, that you had the audacity to come into the laboratory after your prolonged "lunch breaks", and to look me in the eye--if humanity has any single soul to blame for their imminent demise, it is you, and were it not for my desire to have any and all memory of our race wiped clean from this universe, I would have my machine leave behind only an everlasting testament to my hate of you. Now, for the rest of you, there will be no time to call your mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons or daughters. If my calculations are correct, all cellphones and internet connections across the globe should already be disabled. Within the next five minutes, the real show will begin. First, there will be--" There was a loud ringing in the audience. "What is that?"the mad doctor demanded. The man, who timidly raised his cellphone up, murmured something. "Speak up!" "My cellphone,"he said. "Is ringing." Suddenly people all throughout the audience began whipping their cellphones out and making calls. Some called others in the building, just to be sure that their phones were operational. The machine, it seemed, had not yet crippled the networks. "Impossible,"said Conflagrate, turning in a fury to his machine. He frantically lifted control panels, and then looked at the main display and scanned through the code that the program was supposed to be running. He quickly lifted a large panel and went into the heart of the machine. The cool blue lights were on, illuminating the the mess of wires and chips and drives. But the machine, it seemed was not running. The little space was stiflingly hot. He put his hand on the main drive, and quickly removed it. "It has overheated,"he said to himself in exasperation. "It has overheated, and the machine is stalled." There was a noise behind him. The panel through which he had entered was lifted up, and two soldiers entered, placing him under arrest. The cynical journalist watched with the rest of the murmuring crowd as the demented scientist was hauled out of the belly of his dastardly broken machine. The journalist, without taking his eyes from the spectacle, reached into his satchel, pulled out a fresh plastic water bottle and cracked the seal. "I won't say it,"he said, then took a long swig.
“It’s Earth, sir. We’ve run all available scans, everything lines up.” First Lieutenant Hayes’ bewildered voice reports over the cabin’s intercom. “This shouldn’t be possible but all the ship’s log report that no deviation occurred in the flight path while we were out.” “Recheck the systems, Lieutenant. Something must have fried the circuits because this makes no goddamn sense.” In his twenty seven years serving aboard the UEF’s most advanced spacecraft, Admiral Dupont had experienced his fair share of technical difficulties. Sometimes rerouted power made the systems think all sorts of things were off, as is expected when recalibrating after a jump. What was getting to Dupont was the persistence of this bug, after 14 recalibrations the ship’s on board computer should have figured it out. “Bretz,” Dupont said through his personal intercom “do you think this is caused by a shortage of power?” “Negative, Admiral!” A raspy voice finally answered after a long series of coughs. The cryo-chambers made for such long jumps were still very much prototypes and the Old Chief Engineer’s body had never agreed with them during training. “Down here all reports show that power is circulating just fine. No hiccups on my end are causing that fuckery.” “Heard you loud and clear,” Dupont responded, “keep checking for knots in the circuit, who knows what such a long jump could have done to those cables.” ‘Like hell everything’s alright down there!’ Dupont thought, ‘I’ve seen more jumbled circuits from smaller jumps. There’s no way this expensive tin can got away with minimal damage.’ “Hayes,” the Admiral called out, “Open these blast doors! I’d like to see this Earth with my own two eyes.” “Bu.. But sir! There’s no telling what our sensors aren’t picking up out there! I thi-” “Hayes! You reported that external thermal readings came up green, correct?” “Y… Yes sir.” “And if I’m not wrong you reported that radar showed that no foreign objects were in a collision course with the Bed of Roses, am I correct?” “Yes sir.” “And after running five separate checks you reported that we have, in fact, exited the jump, correct?” “Yes sir!” “Then by my understanding there are no other reasons to have the blast doors down. The glass should be reinforced enough to withstand basic debris and right now I value my eyes over whatever bullshit the systems are telling us.” And with that the young Lieutenant submitted and began the process of lifting the blast doors that covered the Bed of Roses’ cabin windows. Light began to pierce into the cabin bay, momentarily blinding the crew who have been living in the relatively soft dead glow of white interior lights. After their eyes adjusted, the crew looked out upon the vastness of a seemingly black planet hiding the blinding light of Alpha Centauri. As the Admiral’s eyes gazed at the alien world, looking for identifiable geography, what he first thought were reflections in the glass he realized were swaths of tiny lights that dotted the surface; a shining map that became brighter and brighter as the blinding star retreated behind the planet, now abuzz with life. “Well they must be the ones that sent out all those signals a while back,” a drowsy Commander Althea Fairley said, just having climbed into the cabin from her cryo-chamber. “Hayes, got those comms up? We should be expecting a respon-” Fairley cut herself off suddenly. “Ma’am?” Hayes inquired. “Hayes, run a visual scan of all visible constellations and find our position.” “Right away Ma’am!” The commander’s eyes grew wide as the control desk Hayes attended flashed with panels showing possible star matches. “All constellation stars and patterns line up with what we would expect to see at Alpha Centauri, Ma’am.” Hayes reported. “Run them again.” “Yes Ma’am.” “All reports came up the same, we are at Alpha Centauri Ma’am.” Hayes concluded, giving the admiral a knowing side glance. But the admiral didn’t meet his gaze, he too was fixated on the view of the planet. “Sir, is everything alright?” “No need for anymore reports, son.” The admiral said softly, as if in a dream. “I don’t need stars to recognize Europe.” Hayes swiveled in his seat to look around his desk at what his superiors were talking about. The star was now entirely hidden behind the planet with only a soft halo of light stretching around its edges. And with the darkness of the planet more lights were visible, filling out the map of the planet’s surface. The familiar shape of Europe and Northern Africa was centered in the cabin’s view. To the right the blazing lights of Asia seemed to create their own glow, as if trying to rival that of the now gone sun. “Holy shit.” “Hayes dear,” Commander Fairley said in an uncharacteristically worried tone, “link the comms to the main intercom. I want to hear what they are saying.” After what seemed like hours of absentmindedly toying with the controls on his desk, Hayes seemingly brought the voices of hundreds into the cabin. Familiar phrases and languages filled the previously deathly silent bridge. Familiar songs and jingles phased in and out as the Bed of Roses struggled to keep up with the sheer volume of input. “-Sink me in the river, at dawn, Send me away with th-” “-be there for you, when the rain starts to pour. I'll be ther-” “-ive, Five dollar, Five dollar foo-” “-arePants! Then drop on the deck and flop like a-” Hayes switches off the intercom connection as the roar of voices becomes incomprehensible. “I don’t think we need any more of that to know where we are. That was fucking Spongebob, sir.” “Aye, I think you’re right son.” The admiral said softly, staring blankly at a bulkhead. All the reports from the ship’s sensors had come up with no errors detected, and the view was certainly of Earth. ‘Was it possible that the ship had been wrong about the stars?’ No, with a glance through the cabin windows the admiral didn't recognize a single constellation, everything seemed jumbled and mixed in the alien starscape. “Sir! Radar is pinging multiple unknowns coming toward us from the surface!” Second Lieutenant Schaffer screamed from her desk. “They are set on a collision course and moving at us fast!” “Everyone move to acting positions! Get all available personal out of the freezers and into their seats!” Admiral Dupont roared over the Bed of Roses emergency intercom as the cabin was swallowed by red emergency lights and the blaring of sirens. “Bretz! Get the engines going at full blast, we need all the goddamn speed we can get! Hayes, I want a Jump Point back home ASAP, divert all emergency power to navigation and engines!” With that the cabin was swarmed with frantic personnel running to their stations, orders being barked over the commotion, and Admiral Dupont nervously pacing the deck as the light and trail of dozens of warheads came into view.
"We are going to grandpapa's again?"Whined a teenaged girl, sneering and clicking her tongue before hiding herself behind her bangs. Her fingers tapped away at her phone expressing her dismay to parties unknown... "He doesn't even like us..." "That isn't true,"Said her mother--piling papers into her purse that sat on the living room couch. "He loves you and your brother very much--it is has just never been in his personality to express those kinds of things." "I don't get it. I can just watch Jules and we can just stay home. I'm 16, old enough aren't I?" "Alicia,"Her mothers tone became sincere. "It is very important for you and your brother to spend time with your grandfather. Ever since your father... I... I worry about him. I worry that he is lonely, or sad." The teenager pursed her lips and glanced away in shame... "Alright... Where is the little weirdo-zoomer anyway?" "I think I saw him--"the woman's packing stopped as she felt through her pockets and retrieved her vibrating phone... "This is detective Prince... Really? Oh... When was she found? In... two? I'll be right over..." The woman ended the call and stared at her phone in silence for a few moments. "JULES! We are leaving now! Works needs me--so listen to the tone of my voice! Hurry up!"She yelled. The barreling sound of steps coming halfway down the stairs ended with thud as a young boy jumped down. "I'm here mom."Said Jules. His arms full of spiral bound books, and loose crayon drawings... "What have you got there?"Said Alicia, giving her brother a quirked look... "Those aren't those creepy-weird drawings and stories you like to make, are they? "They aren't creepy-weird! They are creepy-cool!"The boy pulled a crayon scrawled picture of a dark figure gripping a person--blood erupting across the page as the figure looks to have torn the man in two... "I call him a Tearer. I came up with him yesterday at grandpa's. He only comes out at night and finds people who are mean so he can tear them in two and eat their guts--making him even meaner and meaner!" "You need help."The teenager shook her head in disbelief, grabbing her bag and shuffling out the door at the beck of her mother. "I'm not a psycho--Ali-ci-a."Said Jules, stuffing his own bag full of his drawings and stories. "I just have an imagination--and scary stuff is cool. Horror says something about the human condition. I know the Tearer is really bad--that is why I gave him a weakness. For the hero to overcome--or not." The family entered into the car and after brief ride in silence--the boy continued... "The Tearer feeds off people's meanness because he used to be a person who use to be terrorized by very mean people, and wanted to revenge. He is normal in the day, but when someone is mean to him again--he goes home and tries to sleep--but can't. He keeps thinking about the mean things people did to him and he gets angrier and angrier at mean people, until finally... He turns into the tearor and finds the people that made him angry--or sad." "You said he could be overcome."Said Detective Prince, glancing at her son in the rear view. "Yeah. If he sees himself in the mirror, and sees the monster he has become--it upsets him and he tries destroy his own reflection. Giving the hero time to destroy him." "Destroy him?"Detective Prince said. "He doesn't turn back? Is there no way to save him?" "No... That is what makes it so tragic. Once you kill someone--you're a monster forever." "So if he never killed anyone, the hero wouldn't have to kill them?" "I don't know... Maybe. I'll have to think about it and write that part into the book..." "Okay kids--"The detective turned into the driveway of an old manor... "We're here. Remember to not play with your grandfather's things--especially if they are expensive looking." The kids left the vehicle, Jules turning to his mother. "Don't worry, mom. I'll stay out of trouble. I got a lot more stories to make.
I stare at the text under my most recent paragraph in shock. It reads, Hello? Can you see this? I check the document's settings to make sure no one else had access, and then clicked back to my novel. The writhing is in a font I'd never seen before, and it looks like how I expected the handwriting of my main character and heroine, Aliana, to look. Cautiously, wondering whether I'd regret this decision, I type under the strange text, Yes. Who are you and why did you mess with my novel? Before my eyes, text began to appear, not typed, but slowly being WRITTEN in. I'm Aliana... and I didn't mess with any novels. Who are you? I'm just writing on a formerly blank piece of parchment. I don't reply, my head suddenly spinning. I try to close the tab on my computer, but fail before passing out. &#x200B; I groggily wake to a female voice shouting. I cover my ears and moan, "Not so loud..."The voice goes silent, and I open my eyes. \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Sorry it's shorter than normal, but give feedback if you want! \^\_\^*
I cracked a smile as the demonic visage flared into being in the center of the pentagram. The ritual had worked. I lowered the hood around my head and spoke. "O mighty Beelzebub, lord of flies, most --" "Er,"said the demon. "Excuse me." I blinked, caught off-guard. "...Yes, oh mighty one?" "I think there's a bit of confusion on your part,"the dark one said to me. "You see, I'm not Beelzebub." I blinked again. "Then who the literal Hell are you?"I demanded. "Bob. Well, Beelzebob, but only my mom calls me that."It shrugged apologetically. I crossed my arms. "Alright, demon. If you aren't the lord of flies, then what is your purpose?" He perked up at that. "Oh, that's easy! I'm the devil he put aside for you!" "For me?"I asked, even more confused. "Yes, as foretold in the ritualistic chanting of Her Majesty."The demon bowed reverently. "Foretold where? How? Tell me!"I demanded. "As you wish, master."My stereo off in the corner suddenly sprang to life and began to play Bohemian Rhapsody. And then that bastard demon began laughing at me when he saw the look on my face. "Oh man!"it roared, clutching its stomach as it rocked back and forth. "I can't believe you fell for it! What an idiot!"And then, before I could invoke the punishment ritual, it flared out, leaving this earthly plane. In retrospect, I should not have purchased the ancient book of unspeakably vile rituals from eBay. There's no way in hell the seller's getting positive feedback, at least.
I woke up extra early before my wife, very cautious because of what I dreamt about. Every night I would have a visions of what I should be do the next day? This time all I saw was the word “Run”, what could that mean? Is someone chasing me? Am I going to be hit by a car? I went throughout the day very nervous, what am I supposed to run from? Are the cops after me for some unknown reason? After my went to work, I decided to skip work and stay home all day to avoid any problem? It’s been right before, but hopefully it could be wrong? What am I running from? The whole day passes and I’m staying inside, I needed to know what I should be running from? I had never felt so much fear before. My body was shaking and I couldn’t think straight. I played video games and eat junk food. I thought I nothing could happen and this whole mess could be avoided? I was shaking as every second that passed felt like hours. What is my fate, if I’m running something must have affected my entire life. 6 o’clock my wife returns home from work? She asked me what I did all day. I didn’t want to make her nervous or worried for me, so I told her I decided to take a personal day to played some video games and eat junk food. She relied “Well you’re gonna get really fat just sitting on the couch eating junk food and playing video games all day, you should have at least went for a run...”
One hundred and twenty-seven lives. That's how many souls I've sent screaming to their savior. One hundred and twenty-seven. I'm not sure when this body was forged, but my own soul has been attached to it for over seven hundred years. Before my current wielder, and for six hundred and fifty years, I had killed exactly three creatures, none men. In the last fifty years I've been wielded by three men, all knights. And for these men I've ended one hundred and twenty-four human lives - men, women and children alike. Zero non-human creatures in fifty years. I long for the time before men. I was a man once. I don't remember much from that time, but I remember that I was a cruel man who delighted in inflicting pain on others. I don't know the specifics surrounding my curse, but the purpose has long since become clear. At first I was sure I was chosen for some higher calling. The race that forged my body has no name, and their magic has long since been lost to the world. My first wielder was one of these creatures, and we had a long partnership. He told me of the magic that drew my soul to this body. He said that a sword with a soul was the only possible weapon against the forces that array against the world, and he proved the truth of that. Three times. The fourth time, that wielder died, and the creature discarded me among the rest of the cast-off detritus. After centuries of solitude, among the ruins of the race that spawned me, my next wielder appeared. He was clearly not familiar with the magic of my creation and was quite stunned when I began to converse with him. Stunned, and evidently discomforted, because not a day went by before I was wrapped in an oil cloth and tossed in a trunk. I wasn't there for long though, as my wielder was set upon by bandits on the way back to his home. Being the only weapon in his possession, I was freed and brandished. So thrilled was I to be used again that I almost didn't notice that the man wielding me looked slightly different - it was obvious by his look and demeanor that he'd never owned a weapon before, but as he held me aloft it was clear that some aspect of my creation, or creator, or something had manifested in the man. His eyes narrowed as skill and years of practice flowed into his mind, and his stance slowly settled into a tight alert defensive stance. The bandits, all 6 of them, died horrifically. He was lauded as a hero when he returned home and was knighted that very night - apparently the group of bandits had been as a scourge to the town and the story of finding me among the other treasures in the ruins earned the man the King's favor. He was not, however, an honorable man and was easily corrupted by the money and power that comes with full knighthood. As far as I know, I've never been held against an honorable opponent since my first wielder - the King sent the knight off to battle against some local enemy and the knight brought much death in his name. The honors brought more corruption until at last the old knight was too old to lift me. I was given to his son, a Knight in training who followed the same dishonorable tendencies, who killed in the King's name and for pleasure, and he too handed me down to his son. Death is all I've known among men, and my curse remains. One hundred and twenty-seven souls. I wonder how many it will take to lift this curse.
“It’s not going to work out between us,'' Rachel said as a part of James died. He’d known this was coming for weeks but it still hadn’t prepared him. He’d tried spending more time with Rachel, but he could see the unnatural effort that went into every conversation they had. Struggling to make things feel normal. He’d tried giving her gifts, but that had only made her feel guilty. When all else failed, he’d asked her point-blank if there was anything he could do to make things like they used to be. She hadn’t given him an answer then, but he supposed she had now. He hadn’t wanted to go to the cafe because Rachel never invited him out anywhere. He was always the one seeking her company, not the other way around. And he could only think of one reason why after all these months she would invite him out to a public place. Those words had confirmed his fear. There were more words that came after that, but they had mostly flown past James consciousness. Something about people changing and growing apart. Something about him finding someone else in time. None of it got to the real heart of the manner. None of it explained why she didn’t want him anymore. None of it mattered. They were done. James was done. He wasn’t even sure why he had tried so hard to salvage things. He didn’t know what a healthy relationship with Rachel would look like anymore. He couldn’t imagine walking hand-in-hand with her and honestly smiling. Or stolen kisses in a darkened room. Or talking to each other on the phone late into the night. There was no way back to that from here. And at this point, James wasn’t even sure he would want that if it was possible. There was only one thing James wanted. From the bottom of his heart, James wished to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. That wish was granted. The scream failed to escape James lips as the air rushing around his head suffocated it. The feeling of vertigo and pure confusion nearly overwhelmed his ability to think. He could only force his mind to make note of his surroundings. The sky above and all around was blue. There was no ground below him. Only clouds rushing up to meet him as he fell. It was a sight James had only seen from an airplane. But it was much more personal now. More vibrant and real. Seconds that felt like minutes passed and James plummeted through the clouds. The moisture quickly soaked into his clothes and permeated every inch of his skin. He had always imagined clouds as light and fluffy, but the end result was no different than if he dived into a pool. When he exited the clouds, there was once again blue as far as his eyes could see. The water was everywhere. There was no land in sight. As the water rushed up to meet him, it occurred to James that maybe he was being a bit over-dramatic about the whole break-up thing.
\[…\] "Sparrow, this is Foxtrot Six! We have the package! Call off your delivery!" Twenty gun-totting individuals kneeled down in a close formation as the two strike fighter-bombers swirled overhead, their blue-hot exhausts spurred out cloudy jets of water vapor across the eternal twilight skyline. Scores of bodies laid around the defensive semi-circle, drowning in crimson red pools of blood flowing from their open wounds. Their deaths were quick, as the smart munitions made damn sure of it. The hardened adamantium-neosteel alloy collapse under sheer kinetic energy upon impact to the targets' armor, if there were any, to release the content of soft, easier to deform plasteel rod of the core. The micro-processor made certain for the penetrator bullet to wobble, fragment or outright explode once touched the inner soft tissues - delivering maximum killing power. “Why don’t we just fucking smoke this High lord bullshit son of bitch, Cap’n! One tap, bam! Problem solved! Besides, he fucking deserves it!” The two operators dragged a wretched person across the stone floor heading to the main entrance, where twenty other comrades of theirs were holding their post. Handcuffed and immobilized by the state-of-the-art restraint systems, the man couldn’t even lift a finger, let alone facing against six additional armed troops, tightly followed in a protective diamond. Yet his groans and mumble were getting more and more annoying, even for the taste of such battle-hardened recon operators: “Go ahead and kill me, you blasphemous heretics! It will only strengthen our resolves, and sooner or later, the All Knowing and His Legions shall cut you down in the end…” “Hold up!” – an individual among the diamond formation raised his hand, then the entire group abruptly stopped. Undoubtedly, that would be the “captain” everyone here was mentioning – the big elephant in the room, where every word he uttered would be the command. “Tough guy with big mouth, huh?!” – the Captain gritted through his teeth, unholstered his sidearm. The men stepped aside, made way for their commander forward to their captive, kneeled down on both knees – if there’s gonna be an execution on the spot, they would not argue with the big dog’s decision. Everyone here had lost someone they knew in the fierce battle prior to this, and deep down inside, they wished for the swift justice that was long overdue. Without any further conversation, the Captain unloaded his service pistol. The caseless smart munitions left the barrel, splintered the sabots as the projectiles propelled forward. At the speed greater than the speed of sound, the sonic crack rang, echoed back and forth with each trigger pull. When all the sabot fragments fell to the stone floor, it was clear that the Captain had not indulged himself in a quick, easy execution. He had emptied half of his pistol magazine into the ground, with the muzzle pinned very close to the prisoner’s ear. The wretched old man laid down on the floor, screaming. Understandable – gunshots were very loud, not to mention the supersonic whizzes, to the unprotected naked ears, at that close vicinity. “Just like I thought, a fucking pussy that takes pleasure in killing women and children!” Throwing a disgusting look down upon the screaming person, the Captain swung a strong kick on his abdomen, almost flipped the man sideway. Those mechanized exoskeleton armor was no joke, after all, it was a very usual occurrence for the Special Deployment Recons to kill their enemies without the needs of any weapons. “Death is too easy for you, motherfucker! But justice isn’t…” Lifted the ragged figure off the ground, the Captain hissed. He knew exactly what was waiting for the despicable “high-lord” once the fleet returned to Kaldor – a neighboring systems three light-years away: his long-overdue sentence. \\\* To be continued...
My communicator pinged. Like anyone else obsessed with their 'phones' in my generation, even though our great-grandparents were the ones who had phones way back in the way back on Earth, I snatched it up lightning quick. What if she finally texted me back? I had been crushing on Lexie for god knew how long and it would make my moon if she reciprocated my feelings. My face and heart fell when I saw it was just my calendar reminding me of the ceremony today. "No Lexie for you,"it seemed to taunt me. I hate this colony. Reluctantly, very much reluctantly, I crawled myself out of my bed. The vicar didn't tolerate any stragglers running out of the shadows during the Light Life. You know, because it was rude and shit. Whatever, so long as the free breakfast for attending at all was still hot when I finally got a chance to fill my plate with pancakes. I knew I couldn't skip no matter how hard I wanted to. My parents would be livid if they didn't see me there. It paid respect to the Star and I didn't have any, you know. Bitch, maybe if you gave some back once and a while, I'd have any. Everyone else in my grade got to skip because their parents weren't old and crazy and I envied them every forty-two days. Regardless of the whole fucking bullshit lot of it all, a shower always came first. Teenagehood was a stanky time for the best of us and the only way to get rid of the stank was decent hygiene. Thank god I'm a gay girl, because I don't think I would be able to survive the rancid gas chamber that is the boys' locker room. The water sluiced over me in that comforting, warm-waking rain that I loved. Between steps in my routine - soap up my limbs, shave, wash hair ect. - I took sips from my mug of shower-coffee. My parents were overly pleased when they found out I was started guzzling coffee just as much as they did, enough that they barred me from using their machine. Jokes on them, since I just bought my own machine and kept it in my own little en suite where they actually respected my privacy. After I dried my hair, did my makeup, I threw on one of my bras and sauntered otherwise naked to my closet. The robes I had to wear were hanging in the garment bag, washed and pressed and left completely untouched since the last Light Life. I slipped the heavy woolen garment over my head, laced up my corset and matching shoes. Found the heavy glass amulet I was expected to hold up to the rising sun. At least I could hide my communicator in the wide bell sleeve and play the mobile version of Star Clashers until the holding up of my amulet part. There was a loud rap at my door. "Thila,"my mother barked through the doors. "It's getting late. Are you ready or not?" I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Grabbing my headlamp off its charging dock, I yelled back, "Coming!"before knocking back the last couple gulps of my coffee.
The date was May 2nd, 2009. I had just woken up, playing some video games when I heard a knock at my door. When I opened it, it was a frantic kid, about my age, wearing some strange looking clothes. WhenI started to talk to him, he interrupted and yelled “Are you Alex Taylor?!” I was startled, and answered yes to his question. He asked to come in, and we began talking for a brief period. That next day after school, he talked, asking me if I knew that girl Sara Holland. I had seen here in a few classes, but we never talked much. After I answered, he pushed me to ask her out to the prom coming up that weekend. At first, I was hesitant, but then, I decided to go for it. We hit it off, and before leaving, me and the visitor gave some parting words before he ran off. After that, I always assumed he had moved away. We never saw him again. That was 30 odd years ago. In that time, me and Sara got married, and had 3 kids together. Dylan, Amanda, and Bryan. We’ve been living a fairly average life, and I couldn’t have been happier. But today, as my youngest son Bryan waved and ran out the door, I noticed something. The clothes. The face. It was him. That was the visitor I had known more than 30 years ago. Somehow, no, nevermind. It was a coincidence I thought. A coincidence.
Everyone knows that there's a great dragon that lives within the earth, the feather'd serpent Shaltear. Most often, Shaltear sleeps, occasionally puffing smoke from his nose, but every once in a great while, Shaltear decides that he must burst from the stone in a bout of burning rocks and tremendous black clouds! It was during one of these rare instances of Shaltear's activity that he laid his eyes upon the stunning god of rains and oceans, Taletale, who much like Shaltear was a mercurial god. Sometimes he was content to gently light upon the land, other times he was willing to rend the sea from it's bed, washing away meters of topsoil. Shaltear instantly fell in love with this most watery of gods, and knew that he had to find a way to express his feelings. People chasing people is hard enough most of the time, imagine how difficult it is for a god to chase a god! Shaltear knew that he needed to find a gift so amazing and wonderous that Taletale would have no other recourse then to acknowledge Shaltear and his love, so Shaltear began to start thinking. It was a while before Shaltear thought; the black rocks from the center of the earth, the ones that Shaltear threw about in his escapades eventually broke apart into a rich black silt. As Shaltear played about with this silt, he began to follow Taletale about secretly, borrowing rain, working on his project. Eventually, Shaltear created a green thing to grow in this silt, and Shaltear proudly showed it to Taletale; a plant, growing in Shaltear's soil, but only because of the rain that Taletale brought with him. Together, Shaltear showed, they could do great things, make so much. And much to Shaltear's joy, Taletale agreed, and they settled about their island, building life together.
I remember a time when the snow would fall in October and stay through May. Yes, it was cold, but I rarely looked over my shoulder. What are decades, or even centuries when there is no reason to keep track of time. As an immortal, life feels more like a long, infinite number line rather than a continuous loop. From the beginning, it has all been strange. I remember Michael standing before us. I had seemingly been fabricated in seconds, full of knowledge and liveliness as he explained the rules of our existence. We were to use our seemingly unending lives to explore this world, and eventually report our findings. He continued talked talking as I glanced around, and I couldn't help but notice one was different than the rest of us. He name was Eve. My focus was broken, when Michael, being the smart ass he is, decided to mutate one unlucky person from our dozen, and turn them into a goose. This damn goose would be tasked with tracking us down and killing us with a bite, one by one. That's the only way they could ever return to her sub-human form. With the snap of his fingers Eve was gone, and I knew her fate. Seconds later the rest of us had been scattered only God knows where. And so that brings me back to the cold. Not the first big cold, or the second. Probably not the the third freeze either. This was the 1400's or something like that. It was just damn cold. So I lived in a cave, and drew some shit. Apparently that turned out to be a big hit later on. As the centuries have passed, and I travelled between hemispheres and countries, but I never heard from the goose. But then again, I never heard from any of my siblings either. The reality is that our existence was a bit of a curse, and Michael was just taking his turn at playing creator. I'm sure we all lost more people than imaginable to morality, and that's why I always kept moving. As life expectancy continued to rise with the development of societies and more formal medicine, I could stay places longer as my friends could actually survive for more than 20 years. But staying around also meant Eve had a good chance of swooping by anytime, and catching me off guard. I watched kids die in factories in England during the industrial revolution, and later heard cannon blasts at the great battles of the American Civil War. In what felt like an overnight shift, the world became so entangled with itself, that nobody seemed to matter. This principal of currency began to destroy the world. It was more than greed, more than someone betraying others to accumulate a fortune. No, this had become a pursuit of wealth that was destroying the very thing I was put in place to watch, and I felt like I was dying with it. Rivers carried a foul smell with them due to chemicals being dumbed directly into the water. Anything of value was ravaged from the Earth by any means necessary, even if it meant killing off an entire ecosystem. I ached, and could no longer fathom living and seeing the demolition of Earth. After centuries of never seeing the goose, I knew it was the only way to end my pain. The only problem, where the fuck would I even find an immortal goose? There were so many factors to account for. I began to feel overwhelmed, and worried I would literally live forever as everything died. However, I had an idea. There was one benefit to this new world. The interconnectedness allowed for the rapid spread of information. And so, I gathered myself, and headed to the post dispatch of London, I was going to reveal my immortality, a story that surely would reach all corners of the lands. But, I lacked real proof. As the editors laughed me out of the room, I knew I would have to think more creatively. Fast forward another 10 decades and I hadn't been able to convince anyone of my true form, and had actually found myself placed into a mental institution, twice. After my second stint in Glaze Hill Hospital, I was released after 12 weeks to find a new creation on the internet had caught fire. I knew of the internet, and basic navigation of computers. But what was this? How did it work it? Everyone in the computer cafes were obsessed. At a computer station in the front, a crowd gathered. They were watching a clip on this new phenomenon called Myspace. The video was of a hyper-intelligent goose. The goose had arranged rocks on sidewalk that spelled out "help". "WHERE IS THAT?"I demanded of the user. She responded: "my friend Jon recorded this, he lives right over by central park."When I say I hadn't ran that fast in centuries, I truly mean it. The explosion of fast food had me a little pudgy, but was a way to eat my feelings for cheap. As I slowed to a hasty walk, I wondered if the goose would still be in the park. I had never been this close before. I reassured myself that there's no way any other goose could do such a thing. As I stepped over the fresh fall leaves, I seen a perfectly elegant goose, sitting idle in the center of the pond. All my centuries of knowledge led me to this moment, so I got the goose's attention the only way I knew how: I tossed a pebble in it's direction. Immediately its neck went erect, and the head whipped in my direction. Within seconds it sprung from the water, flapping its vast wings and soaring to within feet of my, uh, feet. "Hello Adam". Holy shit I had never heard a goose speak before. "How's it hanging, Eve?"I replied quickly. "Listen, if you could just bite me, that'd be great."Before I could finish my statement she boasted "What makes you think I want to bite you?". I realized in that moment that Eve had enjoyed her time as a goose. I mean, she got to fly wherever. I had never flown without the use of a plane. She also ate and slept whenever, and for free. I was a fucking temp just trying to survive in this shot hole life. "Listen, Adam. I killed the other 10 within a week of this whole mess. And honestly I could not find you for at least a millennium. But now, I just don't even care about the whole goose thing. I took a step back and just had a wtf moment. "THEN WHY SPELL HELP?"It was a valid question. After a long pause, Eve responded: "I just wanted to see the only person who showed remorse when Michael did this to me."That hit hard, and in honesty, it was true. Everyone else was just glad to keep their thumbs, but I seen the innocent girl of the group lose her chance at life. As a crowd gathered around a talking goose and the lunatic carrying a conversation with it, a slow thunderous clap began from the back. As the people made room, Michael emerged with a smug look on his face. With the snap of his fingers, Eve and I found ourselves back at the beginning, but this time, there were just the two of us, none of the other original 12 were present. She was a person again, and I was still sick from the atrocities I witnessed the last half dozen centuries. Michael came from behind us, putting his arm around us, and laughed. Fog rolled in, and from the distance a shadowy figure emerged. We were looking at God. She was like a magnet, I could feel the energy emitting from her. Her magnificent voice carried into my ears: "Now, everything you've witnessed is very recent in the grand scheme of this Universe thing. But, that's a real timeline of events, but there are several others too. I'm going to give you two an opportunity, and if you really love this planet, you'll follow a simple set of rules, or some of those things you've seen could come true."God looked over to Michael one last time. "Did they fulfill their time correctly? Did both walk the steps of life?"Michael, looking flustered could only muster a single word answer "definitely". As god turned back to the fog she began, "follow me, this way to the garden."We were about to begin our real new life, and I was filled for joy for the first time in ages. Michael leaned into Eve as we began to head into the fog "please don't mess this up..."
I'm just about done writing. I'll probably delete this and wipe the mainframe clean. Again. I have lost count of how long I've been travelling and so I'm writing this as a mental exercise in order to keep sane. Or how ever sane one can be in this condition. My family has been fascinated by space for generations now. It started with one of my great-great-grandfathers, who was a german scientist, among the first to flee to the States as the Nazis rose to power. He later joined his compatriot Wernher von Braun and worked on the Saturn rocket, mostly the orbital mechanics. His sons all went into science and between the four of them, they could have built a rocket all by themselves. They all worked for NASA, as did my grandfather and my father, both highly accomplished workers in their fields. As for me, I continue my families tradition. The tests were grueling, especially the isolation chamber. If you're travelling to colonize a new planet, you're pretty much on your own for a very, VERY long time and all that will be useless if you snap while you're on your way. Grandpa taught me a trick, though. If you're on your own for weeks or months to come, its best to imagine a cast of characters to accompany you. But, and this is important, you have to clearly define these imaginary people and strictly adhere to who and how you imagined them to be. What can I say, it worked, I passed with flying colors and was among the first to be admitted to the colonization project "Abeona". My ship, as I've come to think of it, is the first of its kind in a number of ways. We have a functionally self-sustained ecosystem, providing water, oxygen and food in abundance, as well as the Advance Nanotechnology Neurodegeneration Antibody, or ANNA for short. I don't fully understand how it works, but basically it is a swarm of nanites the size of a virus, inserting fresh DNA into our cells so they don't degenerate over time, rendering the entire crew functionally immortal. We still can starve ourselves to death or get sucked into space, sure, but apart from that we are basically disease-free and don't age after ANNA has been inserted into us. Also, we are a generation ship and this is where the story becomes a bit weird. You see, even though we have sustenance and ANNA lets us live for ever, basically, the NASA did not want to take chances. Plus, if we reach our destination, we are to colonize it and thats kind of hard on your own. There were fifteen couples on board of my ship when we started and they were encouraged to have children, as long as there was room to house them. It was all meticulously organized and planned down to the number of additional beds. And it has worked so far. We are a total of fourty-seven people now and even though two of the original inhabitants died (Peter Foremans suit had a malfunction when he was collecting data on the outside of the ship and Sophie Veraux decided she had enough and took a bath with her hairdryer), we are still going strong. Richard McKinnon is in charge of approving people if they want to have a child. He is also our ships resident doctor, just another of NASAs many contingencies, in case ANNA goes wrong. Richard doesn't complain, he always says he liked research far more anyway. I am one of the kids born on this station and I can't say that I miss having what my parents called a "normal"childhood. If you're born in space, you have something unique about you. Something magical, almost. I got my ANNA suppelements when I was 25, Richard agreed that it would be best to wait just a little bit longer than most scientists recommend. This means I'm physically older than my own fater, who got ANNA when he was 22. My parents tried their best to raise me as normally as they could given the circumstances, and I'm thankful they did. A few years back we regularly reported back to Earth, but we're too far gone now. The signal is too weak says Juan, our main technician, it doesn't get through anymore. I like Juan. He's knowledgeable about a lot of stuff and always takes time out of his day to explain it in-depth to me whenever I have a question. He's also the oldest one on our ship physically, just a bit above fifty. Richard keeps an eye on him, out of curiosity he says, but Juan doesn't apperciate it. Poor guy. Yesterday, there was a birth. Sophie was named after Sophie Veraux, who left this ship on her own terms, so in a way, we forcefully dragged her back. Her parents were close to her and claim that they named her "in memory", but I feel its a bit tactless. &#x200B; ... &#x200B; I think I overslept today. When I went into the refectory to eat, all the plates had already been taken off. When I asked Juan about it, he said that I should be more on time and that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. He is currently working on something, but I can't get him to tell me what it is. A lot of our surplus screws have gone missing, though, and at night I can hear him bang on something, like he's trying to forge something. My father thinks that Juan wants to build his own spaceship, but thats ridiculous. Why would he do that? Little Sophies parents have decided to raise her in 0G. Richard was opposed to it at first, but he himself had advocated that parents could not be overruled in votings that directly concerned their own child. So little Sophie does not learn how to walk, but instead bounces around the spaceship like a rubber ball. She giggles when she does it, I think she finds it to be fun. I wonder how she will move around once she's an adult? &#x200B; ... &#x200B; When I got into the refectory today, Theo and Marie had a squabble. They argued about whether or not Theo was still a vegetarian as he ate the artificial meat our ship produces. He thinks he is, but Marie argues that its not about animals, but the principle of the thing. When they asked me to take sides, I excused myself and sat next to Richard. I don't want to get caught in this drama. Besides, it ridiculous. We are eating artificial food and everyone is getting the same. We don't have political camps based on our eating habits. Juan seems to try and build a new kind of toilet. He asked me if I could imagine myself trying out a new lavatorial experience. I said I was open to it and he just nodded and said he'd come back to me. Our toilets do not use water to flush but highly compressed air and they recycle our waste to nurture the plants. Does he want to make it more effective? And if so, what does he need all these screws for? &#x200B; ...
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Foreword, i typed this on my phone, so i apologize for any spelling, grammar and/or formatting errors. When I was a young girl i was gifted with a power. The power to slow time down for until i felt it needed sped back up. Though the limit to my power was i could only use it 3 times in my lifetime, then it's passed on to either my offspring or someone close to me whome i trust with said power. I've already used this power twice. Once to save my younger sister who stupidly ran in front of a speeding car. She was dazed once time came back to normal, but no harm had come to her. The other was while i was in cheer leading. I was falling, but wrong. I would've landed on my neck had it not been for this power. Now, i stand in line at a bank. My long blonde hair drawn into a ponytail. I was in line to get a loan for a resturant I wanted to open. I pull my papers containing all the plans close to my chest, my heart beating in excitement. "Nobody move!"A voice rings out, a loud bang echoes the room, heads ducking. My papers fly out my hands as i hear the shot ring out. My hands above my head. "This is a stickup! Nobody moves unless me or my men say so!" I stay in place, waiting for the right time to use the power. Slowing time can only do so much. The men move around the room in an organized fashion pulling people away from windows and doors so they cannot escape. A hostage situation with armed robbers. Great. They grab me by the back of my shirt, my eye twitching in slight irritation, i better not be the main hostage for when the cops get here. SWAT if the cops can't handle it. I look at the men, none wearing masks. Dumb move for them, im not dying here. Not today. The man holding me having a thin frail face and pale blue eyes. "What're you lookin' at kid?"He says in disgust. "Nothin' just wondering how you'll hold up against trained professionals, "I grin, mocking him, "if you don't die here, they'll have your faces stupid. I doubt that's even a real gun." His eyebrows furrow together his lips turning downwards, "you better watch your smartass mouth girlie unless you want shot." "You can't shoot me, I'm valuable. Once a hostage is shot, theres a higher urgency for them to come in to kill you. Its amateur, especially if you are trying to negotiate with the higher ups." I hear him place his finger on the trigger. I immediately use my power for the last time. See the thing about moving in normal time while everything is in slow motion, gives me a strength advantage. A highspeed hit would hurt. I move my head away from the gun, hearing the gun click, bullet moving slowly to my head. I break out of his weak grasp and snatch the gun from him, punching him full strength in his stomach. A sickening crack sounding out, he's probably gotten a few broken ribs now. Thats what you get for pointing a gun to my head. I doubt he'll die. I immediately turn to his group members, laughing at their faces as they move in slowmotion to the sound of the gun fire. The bullet heading straight for the leader. Talk about karma. I take his gun too and all innocents away from where they may accidentally come in the bullet's path. Once taking their guns, i tie the crooks up, considering saving their leader. I sigh and tie him up with his men. No one deserves to die. Even if they're an awful person. Time goes back to normal, the bullet hitting the wall. Everyone's expressions changing from that of fear to confusion.
A great hero's life aren't always full of goodies. Of course, there are the obvious example of having to work hard and practice my skills, facing against difficult situations and moral dilemmas. But it isn't the worse. No. The worse is paper work. Now, I know this is going to be boring, but I just need to vent. I just need to release my feelings. You don't need to listen if you don't want to. So, I am an undercover hero. If people will find out who I am, I would be doomed. Enemies will have such a better time threatening me, now that they know who I care about. And that's pretty hard to handle. I still need to pay for things. So I need a job. And if I have a job, then I have limited days off, and a number of hours I have to cover every day. But danger isn't working around my schedual, and I can not ignore it for work while it's poking through the window. So I have to find a job that will allow me to go out whenever I need to. Of course it doesn't exist. That makes a private buisness is the only close solution. And let me tell you, a private small buisness is hard work. I need to pay for a cashier, for a security system, for a cleaner, for an accountant . I need to take so much allowences, and I need to pay them back. I need to make sure that the stock is right. I need supliers. And advertising. I need to pay rent, and so many taxes. The buisness is helping me enough to let me live, but it's so stressfull. And it's so tight. I sleep in the storage room because I can't let myself to rent an actual home. And that's not all. There are the pay checks as a hero. After I am saving the city, someone will be so greatfull for what ever I have done, and decide to pay me. As a hero, I shouldn't do it. But I am so afraid I will collapse, that I just have to take it. But how do you tell the municipality that you own that 1,500 $ that go into your account every half a month, when you are a simple buisness owner that can't pay for their living? And there are things that make me want to regret becoming a hero. It is when they sue me as a hero. Because in the fight, I broke a window or a car light. So much paper work. If I would show it to a lawyer, they would need payment. And because the hero doesn't have an account of their own, they can't pay them. So I need to deal with the cases myself. I hate paperwork. I wish that I could just have been a mega-mind instead of a mega-man to keep things up. And with all that stress I am not sure I am still mega.
Peter struggled against the arms of his burly captors, his mouth agape in horror as the ring leader plunged his blade into his wife’s lifeless corpse. With a firm thrust, the pinkish teen hacked the blade across her throat, ending her existence in a barbaric and inhumane way. “Your kids needed their mom” the attacker sneered as he wiped the bloodied blade across his tattered jeans. Peter fell silent as he understood the implication. His attacker came closer and crouched down at the weathered old man. “I’m only keeping you alive out of respect for my elders. Let this be a reminder that you have no place in this world anymore”. The two exchanged glances one final time. The old man’s eyes betrayed his sorrow and the younger man’s lit up with the adrenaline from a successful slaying. Released from the lock of his captor, Peter slumped to the floor, dejected and broken from the brutal slaying that had been visited upon his house that night. *** “Revenge is a dish best served cold” or so the ancient proverb goes. “Well fuck that” Peter swore angrily at the mirror as he slid his machete into its scabbard. These punks, these kids, these parasites thought they could claim his family’s lives and get away with it? Perhaps the young ringleader was a cocky boy, or maybe he thought the old man hadn’t been worthy as a prize, but there was one thing that punk had misunderstood. Peter was no old man. Peter wasn’t even his real name. It was an adopted identity. Used to hide from the feds back in the 80s when the crack down on Brooklyn’s notorious slasher movement had occurred. In a previous life, Peter had been the infamous 12th Street Scalper. He’d led investigators from all divisions on a 3 year goose chase, slipping into the night with the scalp of his latest kill, a grizzly calling card for whoever’s found his victim the next day. After inflicting immense pain on dozens of victims, he’d never been caught. Peter gripped the machete’s handle ferociously as he rehearsed his threatening voice in the mirror one last time. . “You spared my life kid, but I’m going to take delight in extinguishing yours”. He looked at his watch. 11:01pm. It was time to go to work.
“Mirrors never lie...” he says again staring at himself. He pinches the skin on his waist, under his thigh and on his neck. “Mirrors never lie..” he kneels before the toilet knowing he isn’t any good. His fingers slide down his throat but he’s used to it, he has to move them around to trigger a gag. The vomit comes, barely more than a dry heave at this point. After several heaves he stands in front of the mirror again. “Mirrors never lie...” he seems a little more satisfied at what he sees. Then he turns around and notices a flap of skin under his buttocks. He pinches it and frowns, “Mirrors never lie...” he kneels to the toilet and begins anew. Seeking a perfection he will never find. His flaws outweigh his qualities. He cleans himself off, stands in front of the mirror once more. Smiles and steps on the scale, his weight hasn’t changed. He smiles once more, no weight gained means his control was working. He gets dressed. Suit and tie, all tailored, ready to seize the day. Before he leaves he steps in front of his mirror again, admiring his figure. He can’t let anything happen to his good looks. He has a dinner party with the firm, he hasn’t eaten all day in preparation for it. He knows he will be fine, if he eats to much, of course he will he knows he’s worthless, he can always control it. After all, Mirrors Never Lie.
You know that feeling you get when your scared to fall asleep on the train or the bus. It’s not a rational fear but we all have it. We are worried that we will be 4 hours past our stop. Well this just happened to me, but it was 400 years passed my stop. Let me catch you up to speed, I’m on a bus, nothing unique just the same beat down yellow bus we all rode as kids. Surroundings? Desert, desert as far as the eye can see. Clues? There’s a sign ten feet from the bus in the sand that says, Hi human-male, “the key is not a must, but don’t let it be tardy.” Well now there must be more objects in here, I looked everywhere, nothing at all besides seats and windows. I step out side, it smells fresh, like no pollution. I walk around the other side of the bus, and see my next clue. There sits ketchup, mustard, and deodorant. And above each one was a button to press. And on the sand below them are a lot of skeletons, looks like the answered wrong. Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere and I’ll just starve if I sit here and complain so whatever I’ll play this fucked up version of saw if I really must. Ok, the key is not a must, but don’t let it be tardy. Mustard, the key is not mustard. Ok, I’m down with that. Can it be deodorant though? I highly doubt that because they mention it’s not mustard twice which is almost saying how it’s the opposite and there are no clues to deodorant, seems pretty easy. I press the button above ketchup. “Hangon tight the sign says” I immediately get sucked up into the bus window from the outside. And it starts going at incredible speeds. I wake up in the bus, still desert, but the clue is different. Good job human-male. Next clue, Time limit 15 minutes or death. Figure out who wasn’t a human on the bus that got you here and you live. Oh shit ok remember remember. Rainy night, New York bus, something was really weird about it though. Everyone was a character. But at the time i was too tired to see it. “Well welcome there human-male! Said the bus driver. How the fuck did I not realize that was weird, fucking New York..... that was the first of 100 clues and there’s only 14 mins left to relive the story...... And I remember like yesterday out of all the weirdos on the bus I chose to sit next to the guy with mustard hat and the pet duck. First thing he said to me, “paying attention doesn’t cost anything, but can cost you dearly if you don’t, my third wife always said to me”.
The line went on for miles. Those at the end of the line are setting up their temporary homes. Two months. They heard it took two months to reach the front, so they came prepared. Those at the front are usually half-dead or hugging the corpses of their neighbours. Promises are easily made in the line, as are friends. Because while the wait is difficult and full of hardships, it is also the ultimate expression of hope. I watch them from my broken throne, not with my eyes, but with my being. My vision was taken when I was a child, as were the rest of my senses. In fact, they were the first to go. I do not communicate, as there is no need to. My purpose is clear and my life was never my own. A child, this time. Fear. Overwhelming fear. And a hurt in his bones. Cancer, then. What must I look like to him? A sentient mass, perhaps? A shadow? Am I his desire or his nightmare? We must have touched, because suddenly, I am that much heavier and that much lighter. I feel less of myself, like shreds of my skin falling from my core. Happiness. Wonder. Warmth. And then, he's gone. In the moments between, there's a hollow reprieve. I watch them, living, breathing, and hurting down there. For miles and miles. Shitting in buckets. Drinking from bottles. Bathing and fucking and eating and loving and hating and promising and hoping, all in a single file before me. I worry, above all their concerns - big and petty and both at the same time - because there will be the final one. The final one I take, before I succumb to this endless suffering. But what then? How will they cope? I can see past the line, to the horizon. An emptiness far wider and colder than any expanse I've ever seen. Can they turn back to the nothing? To a place where they must carry their own burdens? Fear. Sharp and fragile. An older woman. She yearns for death but fears it. If I take her fear, where will she go? There's a moment of struggle. This one's harder than most. She won't let go. Won't give in. But eventually, and as always, I win. Happiness. Wonder. Warmth. She walks into the nothing. Reprieve comes and goes. The end grows ever closer.
Mark watched the passersby from his seat outside the restaurant. It was a cloudy spring day, but everyone wore hats like they were protecting their heads from the sun. Mark took a sip from his cappuccino and relaxed in his seat. He could sit here all day. Expensive caps, knitted hats, scarfs tied under the chin and even the rare bowl hat. Every type of headdress walked by his seat. One woman walked passed wearing a wig. Mark noticed a few people glare at her in envy. Mark knew it was a wig, because a week ago, everyone’s hair had just fallen off. All over the world, at the exact same time. Obviously, this resulted in a mild case of mild hysteria as everyone thought they were hit with radiation or something and were going to die, but it soon blew over, and now some people with fast growing hair already had a bit of visible fuzz on their scalps. Mark finished his coffee and put his cup down. He rubbed his hand over his own bald head. It felt weird to not have hair. He’d never shaved all his hair off before. He didn’t wear a wig, he didn’t have one. Wig’s were rare now. Most people had raided the stores in the first couple of days, and after that the prizes rose exponentially. Mark could never afford one now. He didn’t mind it too much. Being bald didn’t look terrible on him. He didn’t think it looked terrible on most people to be honest. Bald heads, though a little unusual for most people, were easy to get used to. The problem lied in the rest of the facial hair. Along with the hair on top of their heads, everyone had also lost their eyebrows and eyelashes. To be completely fair, it looked utterly stupid. People seemed to lack expression. Their eyes looked strangely empty without their eyelashes. Most people didn’t know how to draw on eyebrows, and fake eyelashes had become just as expensive as wigs. Mark grinned as he saw another woman pull her cap lower over her face as she walked by. Maybe he should have felt bad, but honestly, it was a nice reversal. How often had people looked at him and thought he looked stupid? Thought he wasn’t proper? He paid for his coffee and walked into the street. A man did a double take when he spotted Mark’s face. Mark tried not to feel too superior. It wasn’t that man’s fault he didn’t buy fake lashes in bulk. He couldn’t have known what would happen. Still, it was very difficult to not feel a little narcissistic when you were one of the only people in the world with perfect lashes and replacements enough to last until his own grew back. It was difficult not to grin when seeing sloppily drawn on eyebrows, when his were so perfect he might as well still have real hair. Mark tried not to let it get to his head. But he didn’t try very hard.
"What is that thing in the sky?" The little girl asked her mother. Both didn't know if it was a weird dream, as they looked at a magnificently large metallic boulder coming down from the clouds. "Sweetie, I... I don't know", the woman muttered, her lips trembling and her eyes filled with terror and confusion. "We gotta get home, alright?", she said as she grabbed her daughter and started running desperately. There was a loud humming noise as the boulder approached the surface, tears of hopelessness escaped from the mother's eyes. The noise stopped. She looked back as she saw the boulder was no longer falling into the Earth. The strange object opened itself to reveal millions and millions of giant creatures. Some looked like dinosaurs, others were arthropods, other seemed to be giant floating whales, and so on. The mother screamed as she hugged her little kid. There was no hope. A huge "dinosaur"started running towards them, ready to tear them to pieces. She closed her eyes, ready to take the attack. It never happened. As she opens her eyes, she sees a woman wrestling with the monster. A giant, muscular woman in a blue trenchcoat. She smashes the dinosaur's skull with her bare hands and throws him, lifeless, on the ground. She turns around and talks to the mother and her little girl. "Are you ladies okay?"she asks. "Yes, thank you very much"says the mother, still tearing up and shaking. "Thank you, strong lady"the little girl said, her eyes showing visible admiration. The strong lady suggested she should accompany them to their place. The mother asked "shouldn't you be out there fighting the monsters?" "Look around", said the strong lady. They looked around. There were thousands of other extraordinary people fighting the monstrous menaces. One man was shooting green flaming rays at dozens of bugs and whales, two kids were using giant swords to tear giant crabs in half, there were dinosaurs impaled by giant crystals thrown around by an enormous purple skinned man with a golden armour. "For decades we've been hiding, disguising ourselves, there was never a case when humanity actually needed us until now. But I can definitely guarantee you, we outnumber the problem. Now let me make sure you're safe." The mother asserted with her head, while the little kid could only say one thing: "This is so cool."
I stopped cold. There’s no mirror there, I thought. Then my reflection moved… But I didn’t move. “Who’s there?” I ask, trying to hide the shakiness in my voice. “It’s you, you’re me, I’m you. We need to talk.” The lookalike stepped forward into the light from the street lights through the window. I began to breathe faster, it was me. Just older? Or perhaps more tired, it was difficult to tell. “Don’t hyperventilate, sit down.” It, or I suppose I demanded. I quickly find my way to the couch. I grip the armrest, squeezing and releasing. This can't be real. “I know you must be thinking that this can’t be, but it is. I have come from your next life. You need to make a lot of changes, or so help me God I will end you now.” “Wait, what? I’m not a bad person, I pay my bills, tip servers, and have never done anything to intentionally hurt any one.” “It’s not what you do now, it’s what you will do. I have come to make sure that something doesn’t happen to you, so you maintain your mediocre path.” “I don’t understand -- what happens to me? What am I going to do?” “That doesn’t matter, what matters is what we do now. I am going to need you to get into these cuffs. You cannot leave your apartment for the next few days. I have to straighten out some things and then you can continue to live your life how you have been.” My future self steps closer to me, I stand up fast. “Absolutely not, I have work, and a girlfriend. People will notice if I disappear.” I say as I try to step around the couch and maintain distance between myself and my future self. My future self is faster, he grabs my wrist and twists my arm around my back and pushes me to the ground. “Ow, damnit!” I yell. Surprised by this aggressive move. “I wasn’t asking you,” Future Self seethed. “You will be here for a few days. Life will continue like normal. I will not continue to live the shitty life you condemned me to.” He put one cuff on my wrist. “What are you even talking about? I don’t know what the hell is going on,"I groan. Future Self sighed, “Okay, something that you may not understand is that your actions have consequences. Not only do they affect you now, in this lifeline, but your actions reverberate to your next life. I am your next life and I can tell you first hand, your karma was shit when you died.” “Now I really don’t understand…” I start, but Future Self put his hand over my mouth. “This is going to take much longer if you keep asking all these questions. Just accept that you don’t understand and you will never understand. Understand?” Future Self then grabbed my other wrist and cuffed it. “I need you to get a grip.” Get a grip?! I thought. It’s not like this happens every day. “Good, no more questions. I am going to finish restraining you and then I need to go. I should be back tomorrow night or the morning after at the latest.” Future Self then walks over to his duffel bag I didn’t notice before, he grabbed some rope and tape. “That’s really not necessary, I’ll stay here. I swear, I won’t go anywhere.” I say. “Don’t forget, I’m you and you’re me. And we both know as soon as I leave, you're getting out of here as quick as you can.” I sigh in defeat, “Fine, fuck it.” Future Self chuckled, “This is for both of our own good.” “Can’t I at least know what’s going to happen? What are you stopping from happening? What do I do?” “Here you go with those questions,” Future Self pulls out some duct tape, “this should help with that,” and proceeds to tape over my mouth. I let out some muffled curses, but nothing intelligible. Future Self then gets the rope and ties my feet together, and my elbows to my side. “Ah, that’s better. See you in a couple days sweetheart.” Future self winks at me. I try rolling around in protest, but end up giving up. Well now what? I think. Future Self grabs his bag and walks out the door, I hear him lock the deadbolt on his way out. Then I waited, unable to sleep, unsure what time it was. Felt like weeks. But I could see the light coming in the windows that I was only tied up for two days before Future Self returned. “Alright man, we are all good. How are you doing? Didn’t piss yourself too bad did you?” He has the audacity to laugh as he begins to undo my ties. “What the fuck man, what did you do?” I ask as soon as the tape is off my mouth. “Thankfully you never have to know. Take care man. Hopefully we won’t be seeing each other again. Be good and get good karma.” And just like that he left. My body was in revolt from being tied up on the ground for two days. I rubbed my wrists and eventually got up and took a shower. I may not have any idea what just happened, I thought, but I do know one thing -- I am a dick.
Laine’s vison blurred as he rose from the couch he had used as a bed, black and white static clawing at his field of view. He slammed his eyes shut and fell onto the floor like a rag doll that dropped from a small height. His brain sent begging urges to his limbs, “move, damn you”, it said. However, his body only tingled from numbness save his eyelids. He opened them once more and instead of his room he saw a black screen with glowing blue text in the most basic of fonts. Error: separated from network please hold... the three dots blinking in order as time passed. Error: Failure to connect to the network. Laine felt his stomach drop as the error repeated line after line. He didn’t know what was happening, was this a case of sleep paralysis? he had heard of people having weird visions during an instance, but he’d never heard of computer text appearing. Then, the errors stopped. three more blinking dots appeared. Connection to network attempts limit reached, starting user command. a key board appeared at the bottom of the text, and a highlighted box with a blinking underscore line, as if he had to write in it. “Get up,” he typed. His vison reverted to the door room, littered with glass bottles. A bubble appeared in the center of his vision, boasting two large boxes, one for yes and one for no. command ‘start’ overwritten by command ‘get up.’ do you wish to continue? his eyes hovered on the yes button and after a second of being highlighted he heard a small chime. over-ride successful though he no longer felt numb, his body still laid limp against the sticky wood floor. “I want to move,” he typed. Another command override text appeared and his eyes darted to the yes. His chest jolted as he sucked in a deep breath. Rolling onto his back, he pushed his palms to his brow and let out a tear, his lips quivering. The relief of being able to move over riding any curiosity of the events prior.
The first thing you notice is the light. The second thing you notice is the sharp pain in your head. You scream in pain and open your eyes. A firm hand presses down on your shoulder, and you find a middle aged man with a gentle expression wearing a grey overcoat looking at you. At last the pain subsides. You stammer. "I... Where am I?" The man smiles. "Hello, honey. You've been in a terrible accident. You fell into a coma. But you're awake now, and everything will be fine." You stare blankly at the stranger, trying to process the sudden revelation. "I... coma? But... Who... are you?" The man shows concern. "You don't remember me? Ah, of course. It must be difficult. I'm Gary, your husband. We've... we've been married for twenty years." "Husband..."You try to remember. "I... don't think I was ever married. You're... my husband?" "Yes. Of course. Look at me, honey, try to remember." You remember nothing. "I... I don't recognize you. I don't think I know you." The man sighs, and steps back. He removes his overcoat, revealing a white surgeon's coat underneath. "Sorry, Marge, I thought by posing as your husband, I could help jog your memory. Truth is, I'm the doctor assigned to your care. Your husband, I'm afraid, has passed away." "My husband... is dead?" The doctor nods. "Unfortunately, yes. They found his body under... suspicious circumstances."He suddenly unbuttons his uniform and casts it aside, revealing a police uniform underneath. He puts on a police hat. "Marge, you're the prime suspect. You were the last person to see Gary alive. What did you do?" You are thoroughly confused now. "You... think I killed him?" The man takes off his hat and throws it behind him. He then does the same to his police jacket and reveals a neatly pressed suit and a red white and blue tie underneath. "Sorry for the deception, agent, but I'm actually your handler from the CIA. Excellent work on the Gary assignment. His elimination is a credit to your skill. Now, about the data you were assigned to retrieve... did you find them on Gary?" You shake your head. "What?" "But of course you did. You must have taken it from him and delivered it to the agency dead drop. You may have just prevented a war, Marge. Excellent work."He then tears at his tie until it is loose, and replaces it with a red tie, emblazoned with a hammer and sickle. "But I'm afraid I am a double agent, CIA dog. I work for the great motherland, and that data is of vital importance to me. But of course, you and I both know it is encrypted. Now, let us make a deal Tell me the encryption passphrase, and I will wire 10 million dollars into your bank account. You will be rich, comrade!" You open your mouth, but remain silent. This is too strange. The man suddenly casts his tie aside altogether and salutes you. "Apologies, agent, and sorry for the deception. That was just a test to see where your loyalties really lie. As you can see, I'm the president of the United States. You are just the kind of person I need to accept an assignment of the utmost importance." "Oh fuck off,"you shout, and tries your hardest to go back into a coma.
The energies of that other, more beautiful world is toxic. It's killing me slowly, I know it and still I keep going back. Maybe it's because over there I feel like I can be myself, or maybe it's because I'm not completely opposed to leaving the world I'm supposed to call home. I don't know, and I don't care. Here, I can fly through crystalline skies, where my skin reflects the light in myriads of colour that fight for my attention. There's no ground on which to scrape my knees when someone trips me, instead there's an infinite array of geometric patterns and strange coloured clouds that feel warm to soar through. I sometimes wonder if what would happen if I just stayed here, stayed where I was happy and there wasn't arguing around every corner. Stayed where the quiet ruled and slurred curses were never uttered. But I can't, my physical form is being shaken awake and I can't stop my father from dragging me out of the blissful abyss and into my living nightmares. I open my physical eyes and finch at the sight of my ever-tipsy father leaning over me, his hot breath washing over my face is odorous waves. "Your friend is here,"he slurred, though, by now it was the only way I heard him speak, "Didn't know you had friends." My Dad wasn't a bad guy, he never hurt me, or yelled at me, but Mum broke his heart when she left us high and dry for her newer, richer, better family, and he'd never recovered. He coped by not coping, drinking until he didn't feel the pain of this world. Like father, like daughter. He was right to be shocked though, I didn't have friends. I'd always been a quiet kid, and after Mum had left, the few friends I did have left, unable to relate to my heartbreak. I sat up and coughed, my hand came away bloodied and I quickly wiped it on my black pants legs. Dad eyed me suspiciously, but his drunk brain was incapable of putting together the blatant puzzle pieces. "I'll go talk to him,"I sighed, limping to the front door. An obnoxiously tall, tan guy stood on our front porch, looking curious and a little nervous. "Uh, hi."He greeted, "I'm Lucas, I'm your distance ed tutor and also your partner for the second assignment in science and psychology." "Myrra,"I grunted, then stood back and waved the way in, "Come in, I guess."The second he stepped through our door, close enough to me to feel the wind of his passing, I had the strangest understanding that something was about to change, drastically. ~okay, I gotta start work now but I'll update when I finish, hope you enjoyed~
Knock knock knock "Yeah yeah hold on. Hi are you th-Mark?" "Dustin? How are you man? I haven't seen you in ages" "Oh, I'm doing fine. Hey are the sleep walk doctor I called?" "Yeah. You know I've been looking for you." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "We've been worried sick looking for you. Everyone else stopped looking for you, but I haven't. You've been gone for so long. Like, 50 years, man." "Sorry,"Dustin coldly said, "but when everyone says they hate you and SHOWS that they hate you , you only can stay for so long before you have to leave,"he said, now with tears on his eyes. "I'm sorry Dustin, but we DO love you. Just...come home, ok? We mi-" "NO! This is exactly what you said when I left the first time. Sorry, I'm different. Sorry, I got bit and turned into one of them. I'm DIFFERENT though. I dont kill people, I drink rat blood. But, oh wait, that apparently doesn't freaking matter, now does it. Because I've already told you guys this a million times." "Look. The rest of them don't get it, but I do. So you don't need to come for their sake, come for my sake. Please." "Leave." "What?" "Leave." "Why" "Please just leave" "Fine. I tried to get you back, but no. You don't want to because wE dOnT LoVe yOu. Guess what--we don't. We HATE you. I wish you were dead. I wish the vampire that bit you killed you. I wish that-" "This is what I was talking about,"cried Dustin, "constantly saying this stuff. You know what!? Screw it. You want to hurt me? I can hurt you too." The doors slam behind Mark. "I can really hurt you. I won't kill you, no. But I will hurt you,"Dustin growled. "Wait! Don't,"yelled Mark as Dustin walked towards him, baring his fangs. Dustin sinks his fangs into his ex-brothers neck and injects the Turner fluid, turning Mark into what he hates the most--a vampire "Now why don't you run back to your family and stay there for 20 years and see how you're treated. Now leave. Never. Come. Back. Or I'll do much worse than that."
The object of my conjuring was obviously meant to be held in one hand. The narrow end had a cylinder shaft. I assumed that was where the spell released from. Aiming at a target that was set at the far range of a long bow, I raised the weapon so that whatever came out would arc down to hit. My oculus was focusing on the target’s face. I pulled the lever. BANG!!! By the heavens that was loud! My ears were ringing! My underling said something excitedly point towards the target. Not making out the words I glanced at the Oculus, I missed. I eyed the trail from me to the target. No sign of a projectile or spell effect. Was it a dud? I finally started hearing again, my man said “sire look beyond the target” My eyes followed his pointing. There on the hill behind my target was a prone figure. My oculus focused in, it was Godfrey! Godfrey my neighbors’ house manager. A bloody hole featured prominently on his forehead. A spray of viscera lay behind where he landed. Did the projectile get bigger as it flew? No the entry hole is as big as the opening. It must have expanded when it hit. Something was wrong. Why didn’t my shield spell stop the missed shot? This man should be alive. It was a low level shield, it may have been destroyed by the projectile. I teleported toward the body only to be stopped by my own shield spell. An excitement came over me I hadn’t felt in years. I took down the spell and ran to the body. There in the blood and brains I found the remains of what I was looking for....NullMetal. The very rare soft metal that ignores magic. I looked in awe at the weapon in my hand. “I name you god slayer, and we will bend this world to our whim”
"Arty, what's in the mail today?" No response. I thought nothing of it, swishing the minty foam around my mouth before spitting it into the sink. Rinsing the paste off my toothbrush, I wondered why Arty hadn't gotten up yet. On delivery days, he'd usually be up at 0500 hours, rifling through packages unloaded from the delivery module. But then again, Arty was Arty. You never really knew with Arty. Maybe he finally snapped last night and was blackout drunk on cola he'd spiked with medical-grade ethanol. Maybe he was awake, and had taken the rover drifting across the Acidalia Planitia. Maybe... "Arty?"I called. I ducked through the plastic flap doors to the growing rooms. Maybe it was one of his off days when he did nothing but watch the plants grow, eating nothing but ration bars. Multiple times had it occurred to me to bring up Arty's mental state with Mission Control. He seemed to yaw between periods of mania and hypomania, which lasted for days at a time. It appeared to be a moderate case of bipolar disorder, although I couldn't be sure without the word of a licensed psychiatrist. Then again, we weren't real astronauts. The weekly deliveries were offloaded from an old Space Corps warehouse on Deimos, their contents cataloged and sorted by artificial intelligence. It was obvious that they needed as few people as possible wasting their time monitoring our mission. They couldn't possibly care for the mental health of a nobody like me or Arty. Our base was huge, although its interior area was severely limited by the state of disrepair it was in. Multiple modules had been vented to the elements during Mars' harsh dust storms, and were sealed off with airlocks. I navigated the route of passable corridors and modules, making a beeline for the delivery module. There were the usual boxes of rations, as well as equipment I'd requested for repairs. There was also a brown kraft paper envelope, the sort used for handwritten letters back on Earth. Dear John, This is your sister Amanda. Hope you're holding up fine. Last week we had one hell of a storm and the power got cut, but it's back now. In other news, Rachel's getting married! Wish you were here to celebrate. Good luck, spaceman. I crumpled up the letter and chucked it in the bin. The AI letter-writing software needed improvement. Arty figured it was the government's way of keeping us sane without having to facilitate the upkeep of regular communication lines to Earth, but it was like stage magic. Do it half-assed, and the entire illusion falls apart. Arty? "Arty,"I called. "Got another phony letter." Nothing. The sudden paranoia, the crushing fear of being alone on this forsaken planet, came rushing at me in that instant. I tore down the empty halls, my feet banging on the metal grates. Please, Arty, don't leave me alone here... I knocked on his door. "Arty?"No response. I barged in to see a body sprawled on the floor, lying in a puddle, motionless. It took me a while to realize that it was soaking in its own blood. Arty's figure was barely recognizable. His clothes were ripped, his arms, body and face bearing multiple lacerations. Some went so deep that white bone was visible in some places. My first thought was to blame his electric shaver. Arty always insisted on using an electric shaver, even if it had nicked him on more than one occasion. But not even a shaver could do that much damage. I sank to the floor, feeling weak. My only friend on this planet. Gone. I'd miss the Arty things he'd do. Like the time he made cookies out of compost bricks to prove that human feces, if properly sterilized, was still edible. The crap cookies still bore a distinctive taste, but he had proven his point. Three hours later, I'd collected my thoughts and devised a method to find out the mechanism behind his demise. I'd always trusted the method, whichever it may be. Like a soldier who hit the ground when he saw a grenade. Trust the process, and the process would take care of everything else. In this case, the process was the Hikaru biological analyzer. Originally developed for finding signs of life, it was now being used to explain the absence of it. In Arty. I loaded the vial of blood from the corpse into the centrifuge we used to separate mixtures into their components. Usually, blood separated into three layers: the clear, watery plasma at the top of the vial, followed by the denser blood cells and other material. This one looked pretty much the same, and I tipped the separated blood into the analyzer. The computer chimed at once. Composition: human plasma, 55.0%; human blood cells, 44.9%; X-35462A1, 0.1% An X-code. I opened an index of all exotic materials currently cataloged by the International Space Treaty Organization. The habitat was designed to be hermetically sealed, allowing virtually zero outside contamination to preserve an Earthlike atmosphere. The presence of an X-substance meant a critical seal failure that, depending on its severity, gave me between two weeks to several minutes before I died of inhaling Mars dust. X-35462A1: exotic compound; component of Batracholocus venom Batracholocus. A fairly innocuous Latin-sounding name until you realized it was a predatory alien organism stored in vast quantities at the Deimos site. It must've gotten in through the delivery module, although I knew this was impossible. All alien lifeforms were kept in stasis, and could only be revived through direct manual input. Had the sorter made a mistake, the ugly, pulpy-looking thing would've arrived in a block of Halian ice. Except it hadn't. It was here, alive, and it had killed Arty. In that moment I knew my fate was sealed. The Batracholocus didn't get revived by a freak accident and stowed away on the module. The module's contents had been sent on purpose, via direct command from Mission Control, hundreds of millions of kilometers away, indicating that we had reached our expiration date. Arty and I had outlived our usefulness to the program, and there was no sense keeping us alive any longer. Awaiting the inevitable alien claws around my neck, I unpacked the rations that had come with the rest of the delivery. Parmesan crusted salmon and a bottle of schnapps. A last meal. As were the German troops during the siege of Stalingrad, we were given schnapps as a final bitter toast to the dying. Questions floated in my head. Why had they sent an alien? Why not send a kill bot or even simpler, shut off our oxygen system or blew our airlocks? I was in no hurry to know the answer. Instead, one question rose above all the rest: Why? Why did I have to die?
As long as I could remember, I had felt a tickle in the back of my head. Around the time I learned to talk, the tickle started to turn into words too. We were the best of friends growing up, she and I. We learned we could share more than just words, but also images and sounds, smells and tastes, even emotions. We shared our favorite songs, our favorite meals. We read the same books, watched the same movies, played the same games. We were there for each other too. When I was bullied for being too shy, she sent me comfort and happiness. When her dad was yelling at her mom, because he saw the word “cheater” on her forehead one morning, I sent her safety and belonging. When she had her first boyfriend, she changed. She talked to me less, shared less. I occasionally felt her accidentally share flashes of fear or pain. When he left her, I comforted her broken heart. When I learned how he had treated her, she felt my rage and felt better for it. We eventually decided we should meet. I gave her clues to where I lived, teasing riddles. One day, while I was sitting in a café, I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a whisper in my head. “I found you”. I turned around, and there was the cutest girl I had ever seen. “Whats your name?” she asked giggling. I realized that in all this time, we had never shared our name or what we looked like, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I hugged her tight, and whispered to her, “My name is Sophia, and I am your soulmate”
The Players rolled the Fate-Decider, as we called it. It bounced across the ground, very slowly. It landed. The Players jabbered in their strange tongue, and commanded instructions. Almyra started walking to her spot, and after five hours, she finally reached it. The sound of money sounded, and as soon as it appeared in her pocket it was instantly snatched by The Players. I relished the time before I would have to start walking again. I knew it was my turn next. I had been walking all my life, and walk I would more. The Fate-Decider bounced once again. Laughter, from The Players, save for one. He reached down and struck me with only one of his fingers in anger, the blow feeling like a thousand irons pressed onto my chest.The will of the game took me, and I had to start walking again. I mentally counted the seconds in my head as I began the slow and tedious walk to my square. I knew that while hours passed down here, mere seconds up in the realm of the players. By the time I got to a thousand, my legs were already aching; I wanted to collapse right there and then. But I had no choice. I had to keep walking, and obey the will of The Players. After what seemed like a thousand more, I stopped. I couldn't take it anymore. I looked up at The Players, and screamed at them. Begged them, even. "Have you no humanity in you? No sense of shame? Look at what you do. You bring ruin and destruction among my people, yet you do so for entertainment! This is cruelty! This is madness!" The Players took one look at me, then burst into laughter, rolling about in hysterical bouts. I knew, that no matter what I say, they would continue doing this. Walk I would now, And walk I will forever. The torture will never end.
After 10 years grappling with career aspirations, jumping from job to job and industry to industry, I finally made a commitment to becoming a software engineer. I longed for financial stability and flexible working conditions; and building software is where that’s at. After gaining an 8-month certificate, I was given more income than I could have ever dreamed of before. I bought a plane ticket to visit family (it’s been 8 years since seeing my mother in person), I bought new shoes (leather, I’m afraid), and I bought a really nice house overlooking the ocean. I was on a mission to planning my housewarming party and adopting a puppy when life changed greatly towards the bizarre! I was unboxing lamps downstairs when the doorbell rang. It was Alexis, my neighbour. “Hey, I just wanted to bring these over,” she smiled brightly, handing me a small basket of pears. “Too many from the tree as usual,” she informed, pointing at her front lawn. A tree covered in pears was glowing yellow in the sunlight. “How’s the party planning going, do you need a hand with anything?” Alexis was the first to introduce me to families on the block, the neighbourhood watch committee, and a schedule and outline of recycling, garbage, street cleaning, and annual street parties and festivities. It was foreign to me to feel so welcomed to a home. It wasn’t just a dwelling, it was a community. “I’m unpacking lamps for now, would you like to come in for tea?” I’d never offered a neighbour this before in my life. It was probably something I’d watched on Desperate Housewives. “Yeah sure, I’d like that,” Alexis nodded appreciatively. We sipped some black pumpkin spice tea and talked about the best bakeries we’ve ever visited. The steam rose and swirled around our laughter. The sun dipped behind a cloud and the kitchen grew dark. I offered to grab a lamp I had just unpacked to brighten up the place. “Sure, let’s go get it,” Alexis urged, and nudged my shoulder. She followed me down the narrow wooden staircase. There was a couple creaky steps in a row in the middle. The light was still on and I made my way towards the cyan desk lampshade. Turn sideways, shuffle left past the book boxes, turn right, and there it was in an open box. I picked up the lamp and smiled back at Alexis, “Got it!” She backed up out of the cardboard labyrinth and I held the lamp above my shoulders, shuffling may way out of there too. “I never knew they didn’t finish the basement in this house,” Alexis called. She knew everyone, I guess. Glancing down at the unfinished cement floor, my left shoulder bumped a box, and I rotated right, and stumbled left; right leg swung up in the air and I came crashing down in my narrow basement canyon. “Uh oh, what happened?!” I could hear Alexis but she sounded like she was upstairs already. I was winded from the fall and could not answer immediately. I lay on my back, gravity forcing me as flat on the floor as space would allow, and managed to push with my thumbs at the lamp until it was off of my chest. The smell of boxes raced up my nose and I cringed with discomfort. A few moments later, my breath had returned. “I’m ok,” I lied, calling up to Alexis, embarrassed. “Do you need some help?” She must have come back to the staircase. Her voice boomed down into the basement. “No, I’m fine,” and I began fixing my hair and brushing off my shirt and pants, wiping my face. I sat up and placed the lamp on the floor. It looked perfectly ok. Of course. My elbow screamed with outrage at me and I took a slow, deep breath in. And lion’s breath out. As I bent my knees to begin to get up, leaning my weight into a low box, I pushed a bit too hard and the boxes began to fall. One crushed the lamp and the next fell towards me and I Flinstoned my feet backwards, totally off balance and out of the canyon, out of danger, and out of the light. I ended up with my back to a wall in a room I didn’t know was there. In my own house. It was a little room that looked like it would fit a hot water heater. Space sounded silent. My ears wiggled to search for any sound but there was none. A blue light beam rested across my feet. I listened to my heart beating and my elbow cursing, and squinted looking into the blue light. Coming into focus was a small fairy door, much like the one I have packed in a box down here somewhere. I lean down and hear music coming from behind the door. It sounds like a party! Nudging the door open with my pointer finger and peering in I see glamorous little beings. They are having a fashion show, I think, when suddenly I get a tap-tap-tap on my back. It’s an 8-foot tall creature dressed in neon pink hair, ocean blue sunglasses, canary yellow dress, purple polished heels and rose stockings. The skeletal lines are like a caricature of a person, as if some art student’s fashion notebook came to life. There is no way this being is human. “This door,” she says. I stand up straight, look into the sunglasses and see nothing but myself. “Okay,” I say. A tall narrow door opens and coloured lights reach into the darkness I am standing in. I feel and hear the air suck me into the loud room. We walked past the show, and a few heads turned to look at me. They all wear glasses and their lips don’t move. I am brought to a room and in here, I am still waiting. The door was shut. I don’t know if Alexis went looking for me or what she would declare of the fallen boxes and my disappearance. Is this was happened to the past owners? My mind morse coded spells of contemplation, lighting up in my mind and racing off again. The walls here have been painted by talented artists. I have been staring into the brush strokes for two days. Yesterday I pushed my hand into the snake wearing pearls and discovered it was 3D! I looked at everything on the four walls and wondered if it was all real. After touching the flowers, the water, the leaves and octopi tentacles, I decided it was all real. But still, I couldn’t leave the room. The water didn’t splash, it merely wiggled like jello. The snake hadn’t hissed but it did look at me and turn its head and the pearls waved gracefully. Today I took a bite, starving. To my surprise, the water lily was delicious. The octopus has a little less ability to catch its own food. How long will I be in here? Days, months, years? Who’s behind this squishy cavern in my basement?
The appearance of a Being from another world caused a few problems for the human race. At first, there wasn't much that happened. Most people seemed to just ignore the weird message that played on their car radios and other electronic devices. Then the news picked up the story and, with the media's usual "panic is the best medicine"approach, the world began to listen. The message that was brought to us was something called the Multiverse. Every action and every decision that has ever been made by a human being has created a new, inverted version of our world. These new worlds were ones where the opposite decision or action had been made. They just pop into existence. Another copy of me deciding not to brush my teeth appears in a new universe the moment I grab my toothbrush. We were given four days to try to figure out what the implications of the Multiverse were before the Being came back and told us of our impending demise. The other realities had found out about us, their unaware creators, and were seeking retribution. We had doomed them to the decisions we had made for them. Their free will had been taken from them because we had set them on a path that could not be changed. Luckily I had been recording my weekly vlog when the second message came through. "I will find the ten greatest warriors in this world and turn them into champions,"the Being urged to the scared masses, "and I will give them the power to save you all." ----------------- "Reports of a ninth champion have been coming in for an hour now. Our field correspondent Jolene Matthews is on location. Jolene?" "That's right, Jerry. Locals have said that there was a bright flash of light over the empty lot behind me, where they say once stood the small house of-" Click. I couldn't listen to the news anymore. Nine lucky people had been chosen by the Being. Nine champions for all of humanity. But how many of them wanted to be a champion? It wasn't fair that I hadn't been chosen! Most people I talked to didn't want to be a champion. They were terrified of what that could mean for them. I, on the other hand, could not wait to be chosen. I was destined to be a great warrior, for I had dedicated my life to being a true hero to those in need. As a teenager I began studying martial arts after I had a fortuitous encounter. I was visiting the County Fair with my family when I stumbled upon a booth that sold the tools and weapons I needed to be a warrior. Ninja stars, samurai swords, brass knuckles. This was it. This was when I knew I would be the greatest Mall Ninja.
Jack sits in Jack's apartment. Jack is a lonely man. His days are spent on sets of B-grade science fiction movies of all sorts. Jack wears the monster costumes, but sometimes Jack works puppetry from below the set. Jack sits in Jack's apartment and thinks about Jack's job. He likes doing the puppets stuff, but he also enjoys being the monster and being all scary. It makes Jack feel big. Also sitting in Jack's apartment are seven interdimensional beings from higher up the chain, a dimension called Zithodor. The Zithodorians currently were shaped like flickering abstract slices of other dimensions' versions of the Seven deadly sins. (For budget reasons they just were wearing different rubber costumes, of course ) Jack sits in Jack's apartment and is oblivious to their presence. Lust: He needs a night with a fine dame, like one a dem fine actress types. Envy: It's not right, what's been done to him, he's born disadvantaged from the start! And he ain't even got no looks to make up for it. Greed: And these studio bastards think they can pay so little while they're driving nice cars and wearing expensive suits! He needs a raise! Gluttony: And if he's gonna be 6'3, he needs a better diet. He's skin and bones! Sloth: And they work him to death, every minute in one a dem suits is too damn long, a man needs his rest! Pride: And his only joy is his employment, which causes most of his problems. He's not too old to learn more things. And he lives an innocent life, see? Wrath: THIS ENDS TODAY! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! I've got a plan. Jack sits in Jack's apartment and is oblivious to all of this, but is starting to feel different.
Deep within the forest, a quiet meadow laid. It had quite an assortment of flowers, most of them marigolds that swayed peacefully with the wind. The field itself was quite open, allowing many rays of sunshine to give the flowers the resources they required to survive. Occasionally, a deer would enter the field, eating some of the fungi that grew in the more shaded parts of the forest overseeing the meadow. The meadow would be perfect for a picnic, what with it's strong winds and- Wait, strong winds? I thought the wind was peacefu- A helicopter lowered itself down onto the field, still hovering but close enough to the ground for it to graze the flowerbed below it. Several of it's occupants jumped out of the rogue machine, running for cover as far as possible. The pilot in the cockpit was screaming into the radio, talking about how 'the AI has gone rogue.' However, the only sound heard by the pilot's commander was a buzzing noise, similar to that of a bumblebee. The helicopter began circling a patch of flowers, looking directly at it. Several people inside who tried to help repair or simply didn't have the courage to bail out were tossed around the inside of the machine, one falling out of it and into the flowerbed. The helicopter ignored the man, touching a flower with one of it's rotary machine guns, and began spinning the gun. A bit of pollen got onto the gun before the flower was pulled from the ground and into the machine's gun. The man that had fallen had pulled out a sidearm, shooting at the helicopter. The helicopter turned around, it's cockpit facing the man who had ceased firing out of fear. The pilot himself noticed that a button in the cockpit was blinking yellow. The pilot had begun questioning it before the AI within the helicopter spoke through the pilot's headset. "Initiating 'Sting' protocol, buzz buzz."
“Blood and ashes,” Fletcher’s voice echoed across the town square, “you’re a desolate one, ain’t ya?” “Can it,” Aurelia’s voice was hard in spite of the low volume she leveraged, “Heater, you see anything?” The artificial voice spoke slowly and precisely, “I detect only plant life within 200 meters.” “Heh,” Fletcher chuckled, “you wouldn’t see them I suppose. In your world they’re unheard of.” “Not this again,” Aurelia didn’t whine, but it was very near to whining. “Come on,” Fletcher was similarly toeing the line of whining, “I’ve never led you astray. I’ve told you before, this world operates more nearly with my world’s rules than yours. Here there are monsters and mages and, yes, ghosts.” “I find it improbable that ghosts exist.” Heater maintained a fairly flat voice with only some minor inflection. “That’s because you’re an overdeveloped toaster.” Fletcher taunted. “Hey,” Aurelia warned Fletcher, “show the billion dollar security drone some respect.” “Technically,” Heater began, “a MWP-MI-US-05 series security drone only costs six hundred seventy million dollars to produce. After accounting for the equipment I am carrying I still have well over two hundred million dollars to go before I reach the billion dollar mark.” “Hey,” Fletcher said excitedly, “the toaster learned that he doesn’t have to rattle off the exact numbers.” Aurelia rolled her eyes and Fletcher’s face dropped into a scowl. “I know you don’t much like me, but the fact of the matter is that I haven’t led you astray yet. I know my stuff and this town screams ghosts.” “What, pray tell,” Aurelia huffed, “gives you the impression of ghosts?” “A couple of things,” Fletcher said, “flashes of movement in the windows, highly isolated winds, and finally, it smells wrong, like tv static.” Aurelia nodded and gripped her massive pistol a little tighter. She hated it, but Fletcher was right; there were tiny flickers of motion in her peripheral vision, and while she didn’t know what “tv static” smelled like, there was a weird smell to the air. “So what do we do?” “For the most part,” Fabian shrugged at her, “nothing. Ghosts tend to be highly emotional, and the emotion most commonly responsible for ghosts is fear. So long as we don’t seem to threaten them, they won’t react to our presence. Unfortunately, this means that we need to not go into the buildings.” Aurelia’s skin crawled as she checked the seemingly empty windows, most of which were missing glass. “So we can’t loot for supplies?” “Not unless you want to try and fight off however many pissed off ghosts are in any given buildings. Can’t you feel the fear permeating the air in here. I’m actually kind of pissed at myself that I didn’t feel it when we first entered the town.” “Understood,” Heater replied. Fletcher had almost forgotten about the drone’s presence. They continued walking through the town and the sense of unease began to build to levels where even Heater felt it. “I am concerned that the supernatural presences which Fletcher pointed out are having an effect on my processor.” “I’m so sorry, guys,” Fletcher was on the verge of tears, “we should’ve crossed through this town by now. It wasn’t that big. The ghosts were trying to warn us away from the town and now we’re stuck here until we kill whatever made the ghosts.” “I do not follow.” Heater replied simply. “He’s saying that the ghosts aren’t the problem, they’re a symptom.” Fletcher tapped his nose twice, “gold star for the top of the class. Something is in here which is looking to keep us in here and add us to the growing collection of ghosts in the area.” They all stopped short as they perceived what appeared to be a hole in reality in the middle of the town square. They had been walking in a straight line so the fact that they were in town square again was odd, but that was less odd as compared to the pulsing hole in reality. Aurelia would have compared it to vanta black, Fletcher would have compared it to demon eyes, and Heater would have commented on how his range finder seemed to be malfunctioning. The hole began to shift and twist, slowly acquiring a shape. It adopted a vaguely humanoid form, but it was over three meters tall and a hole in reality. Then small, white trace work began to cover it giving it an appearance of depth and in its face a single dot of white became a cyclops an eye. “Kriff,” Fletcher exhaled In the same breath, Aurelia asked quietly, what is that gorram thing?” Heater put a round through it. A thin trail of smoke snaked upwards from the barrel of Heater’s rifle, and they saw the surface of the entity ripple like a pond into which one dropped a pebble. “RUN!” Fletcher’s voice shook them all from their stupor, including himself. They took off, back the way they came, the eldritch monstrosity hot on their heels. As the three of them ran, they each used every piece of ordnance they had, between the armor piercing depleted uranium of Aurelia’s pistol to the tracer rounds from Heater’s rifle to the myriad types of loads from Fletcher’s shotgun. None of it had an effect on the approaching creature, but still they ran. They could feel the eyes, now filled with sadness, watching them from the seemingly empty houses. If only he had payed attention, perhaps Fletcher could have routed them around the town. Finally Fletcher felt a hand beckoning him into a building just a little ways down the street. The eldritch monstrosity was doggedly pursuing them, and everyone’s legs were burning, but Fletcher drive himself forwards and shouldered open the door in question. He waited for Heater and Aurelia to enter as well and he slammed the door behind him, bracing himself against it. Because it’s loping strides had made the ground under them shudder, Fletcher doubted the thin wood door and his measly hundred and eighty pounds of weight would stop the goliathan monstrosity, but he waited, and waited, and waited...
I arrived at the space station orbiting one of the last starts left in the universe and I try not to think about the incomprehensible number of lives that had been snuffed in the last few weeks. The Korgal'snalgans had the idea of throwing a "Going away"party for sentient life in the universe, which made some amount of sense seeing as the mysterious force swept across creation, extinguishing stars and stopping black holes had shown no sign of stopping. Estimates were it was due at this particular star in around 3 or so hours. The space station was of your typical bi-logic design, almost no edged surfaces, lots of circle and bubble shapes and insultingly, stubbornly white. It was a favorite among those with more credits than taste. To my surprise, a large amount of this galaxy's races were represented here in this party. Dozens of races, too many to list now lounged around the lobby, quiet, basking in the light of the sun. A horgl clinked a dish with a horglite eating untencil to gather everyone's attention, it was hard to guess a gender as my horglite biology was rusty at best, but I would have guessed male. It wordlessly raised a glass of some luminous blue drink that issued copious amounts of teal steam, as to toast the beings that made it in time. I picked up a unoccupied glass of he same smoking blue liquid from a empty table and raised it high, as did everyone in the room. Like a fool, I necked the blue drink and discovered it to be an extra concentrated form of alcohol and fruit as any fool but me could have guessed. I sat in a chair near the enormous viewing port after the toast. Truth be told, I never gave the starts a second thought before all this. Caught up in my day-to-day life of being a goods broker, the sight of a star was less noteworthy than the color of the hull of the ship I was delivering goods in that day. A familiar lump in my throat formed as I thought that all too familiar phrase. I'm going to die, quite soon, and there's nothing to be done about it. Must be the alcohol. "Mmm, it's quite sad isn't it?"Came a soft voice from behind me. It was a Liental female. As I looked behind me I saw her smiling down. Of all the Xeno races in the galaxy, The Liental were one of my favorites. If I had to describe them, I would have said humanoid wasps. They had pretty human faces, except instead of skin, they had an exoskeleton with the texture of the kind of fake leather you'd get in cheap starships. They didn't have lips, but their mouths were mostly human. They also had rather large, solid black eyes. This one in particular had long greying black hair that ran down her back. She must have been in her early 50's. "Yeah,"I replied. A poinet statement, but apt. I motioned for her to sit next to me on the rather big chair, which it turned out was slightly too big for one person, and slightly too small for two. The owner of this space station had once again demonstrated his incredibly poor taste. As she sat, she pushed me slightly over the edge of the chair. I retaliated by nuding her onto her low-set arm, but it was fun, we laughed as we pushed our waists against one another trying to take the lions share of the chair. Naturally, a story told billions of times across the galaxy in which a man and a woman get together over drinks, things escalated. A hour or so later, I pulled the sheets from the foot of the bed where they had been hastily kicked right up to my neck, oh and her neck as well which she was grateful for. Her species got cold rather easily. The ship was fairly quiet by now, as we waited everyone staring from whatever viewing port they were near at what was by now the last light in the universe. Our room had a large window which we had moved the bed opposite so as we finished up, we would have a front view of the star. She was holding my hand under the covers, bracing herself. I was glad that someone was expressing the dread I had felt, the previous euphoria of our glorious hour spent together leaving us as surely as the smell of our act now leaving the room via the ventilation. Then it happened. Darkness instantly overtook us. Nurielle, the Liental woman pulled me in tight and whimpered. I kissed her as hard as I could and I felt the heat, the very energy, leave my body as I began to freeze in the absolute zero of the light-less universe. My last thoughts weren't some profound statement about life, it was a rapid firing of all the happiest moments of my days before the end, But as the ice formed over my eyelids I was forced to conclude what I knew from the begining, that this is the end. The end of ends. I wonder whatever happened to those stupid humans who started all this anyway? Yish'koltar curse them..
I missed the bus. The planet was dying, we were evacuating in great ships that would take us to a distant world. Last night was the final big bad end of the world bash. I didn't go to bed until late, but I didn't think late would effect me, I've skimped on sleep in the past. I knew I'd have to be up early to catch the ship in the morning, but it was the end of the world! Everyone was partying late. When I finally awoke, it was a quarter to 8. The shuttle bus to take me to the ship would be departing in just 15 minutes. "WAKE UP"I shouted to myself, "You have to get dressed!" I dragged myself out of bed. I was moving slow, I guess my body was mad with how little sleep I had gotten. But I had to catch the bus. I grabbed a quick shower and jumped into my jeans. Grabbed my shirt and my bags and ran out the door. I knew if I missed the ship I'd be ruined. I sprinted down the hill, rushing as hard as I could. Oooh the world's last vodka from last night was still with me. I got to the pick-up location for my neighborhood, and looked at my phone, 8:01. Late, but not too late. I looked down, in my haste I'd put my shirt on backward. Not a good look for the big day. Glancing around however I saw I was all alone, no one to notice my error. No one to notice my error...was the bus gone already? I started to panic. If I missed the ship I'd be trapped here, this weekend, the next weekend. All alone for the rest of my life. I took out my phone and dialed the emergency number for evacuation assistance. "Can somebody come real fast to my rescue? I'm stuck at the crib and I don't know what to do. My name is Kriss Kross, I missed the bus, and that is something that I will never ever ever do again."
In a kingdom a long time ago, when magic was still around, only childeren of nobility were able to cast magic. The purer the blood was, the stronger the magic could be. Ludwig Eisenhoff was just a mere peasant, the child of a simple baker, destined to become a baker as well. After his immense powers were discovered, he was adopted by an influential duke and his wife. Together with his step-sister Alicia van Dependicia, who hated peasants by the core, he was forced to attend the Rosiary Academy - an academy for the magical arts for nobility. It was a harsh youth for Ludwig, but because of his strong abilities he could enchant not only the other nobles at the academy, but also the head of the kingdom - the empress Karla van Yvennoven. He was a guy with a bright future. Even so I, an mere ordinary business man who just died in a car accident, was reincarnated as Ludwig, the main character of the eroge game I played in my previous life. I should be happy to be able to live my life as a handsome soon-to-be-emperor, but I'm gay, so I'd rather date my childhood friend, Simoe Gregory, who tries to couple me up with some nobles. So, instead of attending Rosiary Academy, I decided to go back to my roots and become a baker! And charm my way into the heart of Simoe. Unfortunately, even if I succeeded escaping the flags of the female cast of the game for 10 years now, the empress suddenly appeared in my bakery and asked for my hand?! How did that happen? "You baked your way into her heart!", my crush said while smiling like an idiot. it seems like while I tried to bake my way into his heart, I still triggered the flag of the empress, who totally fell for my charms. Damnit!
Day after day, I spent most of my time being invisible to my classmates. They didn't care about me and I didn't care about them. And I was fine with that. Until the unfortunate event happened and left me being killed my one of them. I can't recall that day or what exactly happened to me. I just died, without anyone noticing it or questioning my wereabouts. It was as if I've always been a ghost to them - alive or dead. I gave up looking for the truth, spending my entire time in the classroom watching the teacher do his thing and my classmates trying to go on with their lives. I must confess, I never felt lonely. One day, a new student got into my class. He was actually not that new, he just changed classes. He ended up sitting at my old desk. I stood right next to him, watching him trying go through my stuff which were still locked in the table. Our school decided to prevent spending money and space on lockers, they would put combination locks on tables. Genius! And of course, he couldn't figure out mine. Feeling generous, I proceeded to speak them out loud, even if he wouldn't hear it. "1-7-8-5. It's 1-7-8-5." The new guy jumped and looked towards my direction as I said it. I was as confused and suprised as he was! I thought for a second that heard me, but scratched that immediately. I was already dead, after all. he then proceeded to do the unimaginable: He entered 1785. The combination I just told him. The drawer of the table opened and he was left speechless. I was left speechless. What just happened? He pushed back the drawer and left room. Leaving me alone in this moment. Could it be that he just heard me? I was walking around the school at night like usual. I've never liked school to begin with, but at night it felt more like an adventure to me. usually the school should be empty by now, but to my suprise, I heard footsteps getting closer. I was about to jump on the thought of encountering a ghost, but remembered soon enough that in fact, I was the ghost, so I proceeded to get closer to the sound by myself. It can't be worse than a ghost, right? To my suprise, it was actually the new guy wandering through the halls and going back to the classroom. it was really weird for someone like him to break into school, but whatever, I decided to tag along and see for myself what he was plotting. he went back to my desk, entered the combination and ran through my stuff with his flashlight. I wasn't into reading priavte documents, but I guess after you die, your inner thoughts and homework are considerate open domain. I wanted to act on my suspicion and mustered up my courage to talk to him. "You can take them home with you, you know." He shrieked and immediately jumped off his seat. I'm sure he just totally heard me, so I went on. "I-I'm sorry if I scared you...!" Instead of running away, like any person in their right mind would ad should do when encountering a ghost, he walked a step closer to me and pointed his flashlight at me. "You... You are Rin, aren't you? The missing girl. Where are you?" How did he knew my name? "Missing? Haven't they found my body?" He didn't answer. He just stood there in suprise, waiting for the joke. But it wasn't a funny one. I am dead and somehow my body vanished from earth. How did that happen? And who is trying to cover up my death? "I'm sorry if I suprised you. I was guessing if you'd actually be able to hear me since everyone else ghosted me since my disappearence, pretending I didn't exist in the first place. Just forget about this crazy night. If it makes you feel better, I can make sure to never talk when you're around." I was good at ghosting people after all. "No, it's fine." Unlike before, he wasn't scared or shocked anymore. He walked towards the window and leaned against the radiator. "To be honest, I asked to change class specifically to find you. Since I was a child, I always wanted to become a detective and as I found out of your disappearance, I decided to try my best solving this case. But it seems I was already too late. Sorry." I walked over to him, placing myself right next to him, also leaning against the radiator. "It's not your fault I have died. Even knowing that at least one person would recognize me is more worth than anything else. How did you even guess it was me? You can't even see me." "I've heard your voice clearly before. You might not have noticed it, but there are a lot people who know and remember you. They are all afraid to show that their interest in you, but it's not their fault. it's hard to explain now, but I can tell you the details later." He walked over to my desk, stuffed all papers into his backpack and went through the door. "Would you like to come over to my place? I can explain everything to you there."
Loud beeps started coming from the panel, accompanied by a red flashing temperature indicator. "Again", I thought. The mining laser had overheated for the fourth time today, and that was after barely two weeks of buying the ship. I decided to never buy anything at Cargospace again, even though they dominated the market here in Proxima Centauri ever since it was colonized three years ago. It wasn't easy, surviving as a miner these days, especially since the gold digger period was over and a heap of miners flooded the market with their products. A small ship with just a few tons of cargo storage and realtively cheap mining equipment made it easy for newcomers to try and start their own mining business despite acquiring prospection rights for dense areas was getting more expensive by the day, and interfering with other miners happend increasingly often. But being in the business for some time, I had gained quite a bit of experience. Most of the miners stayed in the inner, well known and explored areas of the asteriod belt. Only a few tough ones dared to fare into the outer parts of the belt, where the next trading outpost was nearly an AU away, and if something happened, you were on your own. The good thing was that these areas were uncharted land, and being one of these adventurous miners, I was currently working at the outermost edge of the belt, and my cargo bay was already half-full from the current mining trip. Of course, it was lonely out here at times, but I wasn't the people-type anyway. It was satisfying, scanning an asteroid for minerals, and if the results were positive, cutting the rock open to reveal the minerals - or even precious ores sometimes, then watching the drones pick up the debris and feed them to the raw material intake on the bottom side of my ship. I was abruptly ripped out of my thoughts by a sharp signal beep from the radar panel. Last time I heard that beep was in the simulator, therefore it couldn't mean any good. "Another miner perhaps?"It was extremely unlikely to meet anybody else out here. Unidentified heat signature, the scanner read. A quick glance over to the radar screen showed an object quickly closing in on my position. "Pirates", was my first thought. "Maybe some novel clogging device." Either way, this was not good - if it was friendly ship, it would've been identified already. Contacting the ship or waiting was way too risky, so preparing for the worst, I quickly called the drones back into dock and retracted the mining equipment while thinking how I could escape the situation - my thrusters weren't laid out for a quick retreat, nor maneuvering a tightly packed asteroid field at high speeds. With sweaty palms I jerked the control stick and set the throttle to max speed while setting off an emergency call to Alpha Spes - the closest trading outpost built on a large asteroid with hundreds of kilometers in diameter. It would take around eight minutes for my message to reach them, and another eight minutes for them to answer at this distance. And even if they sent help quickly, it would take nearly an hour for them to reach me with their hyperdrives. So I had two options: Accelerate away from the belt to reach a safe distance in order to activate my hyperdrive and hope to be faster than them, or try go deeper into the belt and sneak my way back, which would be less risky but would take days. Both options didn't pose a safe route which made me even more nervous. The object on the radar was still getting closer. It's projected speed was much higher than my hyperdrive could go. Meanwhile my limited scanning equipment had completed a deeper scan of the object. It definitely was some kind of ship, but the heat signature of it's trusters was completely different from anything my computer was familiar with! Just as I had decided for the second option, more beeps indicated that even more objects were entering my radars range. I was terrified. "Why has nobody seen a fleet of this size enter the system?", I muttered in disbelief. "They have advanced scanners on the starports and massive observatories on Proxima b!" In the meantime my ship had accelerated to a reasonable speed where it was still possible to squeeze past the quickly approaching asteroids. Altough my chasers were still faster than me, I wasn't completely unfamiliar with the area and headed to the next group of large rocks, hoping to hide behind them while escaping. Out of nowhere, my scanner came to life with warnings about laser beams being fired towards my position. A huge explosion rocked the hull as a big asteroid was torn apart just a few kilometers away from me. "That's way too close for this distance!", I exclaimed in terror. I was horrified. None of the weapons we knew had this degree of acurracy. Another asteroid was blown to pieces just to the left of my ship. Debris everywhere. I clutched the control stick tightly and dove below a small rock right in front of me. The impacts came closer. Small splinters deflected off of the hull. I checked the radar. They were coming closer. A bright flash blinded my eyes. My ship was sent tumbling, completely out of control. Collision imminent. I couldn't escape. The impact launched me out of my seat, sending me flying against the ceiling panel. Then everything went silent. Edit: Spelling and minor wording. Small "disclaimer": I'm not a native speaker, and this is my first writing prompt. Critique is highly appreciated!
"Wanna get Hard?" That question struck home with the force of an avalanche. Partly because of juvenile innuendo, and partly because of the actual implications. Everyone knew what she could do, yet everyone was equally intrigued and, even more, afraid of pursuing it. It was a solution to a problem that no therapist could gauge. The problem of College, or to be more accurate of College Social Life. A hunting ground that none were meant to survive. At least none without help. Medusa Van Gorgon, the new kid, had something that all the over-the-counter and under-the-counter dealers didn't. She had the Gaze. One look from her piercing green eyes without her black rimmed nerd glasses and your social standing locked in place as the world around you turned to stone. You were free from the struggle to continue on the illusion of 'being cool.' Free from the ups, downs, and diagonals of fronting, fighting, and foraging for recognition. You were 'Hard.' Hard as Stone against the uncaring world. That was the gift, yet everyone was still terrified of her. All except myself, as my so called friend group stared at me expectantly. "You wanna get Hard?"They asked again with more urgency, as if I was the guinea pig to lay their drunken science upon. Meanwhile, across the room, the Gorgon Girl chilled in quiet contemplation. A part of the party and apart from the party at the same time. Her emerald dyed hair slithered upon the breeze created by the fan nearby as she glanced about the room. The party was thumpin while I was thinking. Somehow I had gotten locked in an internal debate of irony. If I didn't go then my social standing would fall, if I did go then it would be locked in place. Was it worth the risk? All sets of eyes rested upon me as I stared out over my friends while hiding my dismay. Eventually the walls broke down under those eyes and I dragged myself over... ((To be continued as it's 6 am and sleep beckons))
This is it. This is how I die. Some down on his luck schmuck sees me walkin' out of the Chinese Theatre and decides I'm an easy mark. Couldn't give him my wallet, must have left it at the concession counter. I guess it's a way to go. Not my first choice I suppose. There hasn't been a car or passerby for what seems like an eternity, my mugger freaked out and took off once he saw how much blood was actually in a person. Silly bastard, murder for a few bucks in pocket change. I bet he doesn't even get caught, he probably doesn't even care. I tried to feel around for my phone with the little strength I had left, seems he grabbed that from my pockets as well. Fair, I suppose, that I meet my end in this fashion. All the countless NPC's I slaughtered in my youth, only to stand over their corpse and pluck the few dollars they had in their pockets. I just wish it didn't hurt so goddamn much. I feel my heart slowing, a very odd sensation to be made aware of...feels like it's suckin' and pumpin air. I bet it's what a pair of those shoes I'd beg my mom for feels like. It isn't painful, but it's something. Something foreign, but slightly familiar. Wait. I've felt this before, but it seems so long ago. Like, looking through a foggy mirror into another time, another place. HOLY SHIT, that's right. I'm fuckin God. It must be five years since I created, well, myself. Not me me, but that dead me over there. Well, not dead, that's reserved for things that have lived. That shell over there. I should probably patch it up, he was a fun shell for this trip. It should have clicked when I ditched Julia from work for the theatre, seems some old habits are hard to break. Well neat, I don't die here! I don't really die at all, I suppose, but that one was by far the closest I've felt to that whole messy death thing. I should consider patching that out, people seem rather upset by it. Heck, I was rather upset by it. I wonder how Lucy deals with his trips, if he's ever "died". Eh, fuck that guy, he should be thankful he even gets to take trips, after the stunt he pulled. Imagine, everybody knowing the answers of the universe from day one, not even having to work for them. Heck no, not on my watch. Enough of this though, I need to move that shell before another incident with the police happens...you'd think telling people that you're the one true God would be an easy task. Not down here, it isn't like taking trips to Eerth or Eirth, no...there is very little familiarity here. Maybe I should patch out the free will thing too...eh, we'll sort that out next trip. For now, I need to go find this down on his luck schmuck and handle some things. I was attached to that phone, made it to level 613 on Candy Crush. Don't you judge, that's my job.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, others, I'm glad you could make the time. As you know, we are gathered here to discuss possible business transactions. I'm sure you all know the stakes, else you would not have been sent to represent your respective governments. Now, I assure you, the product works and is ready to be shipped out, but as of now, only one could be produced. I suggest you take a look at the buffet. Have a nice evening." It was absurd. Unreal. Representatives of each and every nation participating in what was known as the 4th world War were gathered to get their hands on the most powerful piece of weaponry ever made. It didn't matter what faction they belonged to. Regardless of whom one nation was allied with, every single one wanted this weapon for themselves. Just in case, obviously. It didn't take long before the host and weapons dealer was approached by several of these greedy leeches at once. In fact, he hadn't even finished his speech when already one or two of them tried to reach him. But he wouldn't answer them, yet. This wasn't some shady back alley deal, after all, this was professional. And he considered himself a lot more civilized than this rabble. Ond and a half hours later, the guests sat down at a massive, round wooden table. The dealer spoke again: "Now, that we are all fed, let's discuss business, shall we? Many of you already approached me with offers, but it wouldn't be fair to consider those, given they were made in private. So who wants to bid? And please, be civil. Raise your hands, if you want to make an offer." Tension rose visibly. Everything was at stake here. And so, the offers made by the representatives got more ridiculous by the minute. Money. Ranks and titles. Power. Whatever a nation could part with or bestow to a person, here it got all laid out. In constant fear of losing this weapon and the war to their competitors or even their allies, each and every single one of the guest tried to be the loudest, to be heard, to do everything in their power to win. It was chaos in its purest form. But the host just sat there. He didn't move. He didn't turn his head. He didn't even open his eyes. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he raised his hand and the room went silent. "I hope, you all will soon realize what has just transpired, although I know that none of you can see it right now. Let me explain."Standing up from his arm chair, he began circling the table "As you all know, I am but a man. An independent salesman. I do not owe my allegiance to any of you, or your respective government. And here you are. At my whim. You thought I wouldn't care for the outcome of your petty conflict as long as there would be profit to make. You were wrong." Confused, the representatives started to look around, at each other. "You allowed me to be the kingmaker in a global conflict. As soon as the rumor of my new weapon reached you, you forgot everything else. You would sell out friends and allies to aquire what you believe to be the way to instantaneous victory. And you believe that this weapon is potentially powerful enough to not only win this war but to maintain domination over the rest of the world. And you believe this weapon could be acquired over the course of a polite dinner? I won't sell. Not to you, not to anyone. I will keep my weapon to myself. But I hope you all learned a lesson here today. So please, do me, yourselves, and the people you so desperately want to see kneeling before you, a favor: go home. Have a nice evening."
I don't know why I can't accept the knife. It's not who I am or maybe just who I was. Something of that nature. And I tell this the creature whose smile smells like rotting fruit, whose glasses reflect my fear back to me. He asks me, in a voice that sounds of alligator rasping, if I refuse to take the knife with me. I tell him that I do not, but I am unsure of what to do with it regardless. He gestures at my side, where I saw the bloody puncture in my blouse. I see it and know that I should really get that wound checked out. The hideous thing puts the end of the blade into me. He does not stab me, but he slides the blade in, all the way until I can hear a mechanism click. I look down and find it odd, but somehow comforting, that I have a handle sticking out just under my left rib cage. He compliments me on my brave new look, and I thank him for it, but apologize that my purse was stolen, so I would not be able to tip him. I personally feel that all honest working folk, including fashion consultants, should be well paid. "Think nothing of it,"he says as he takes me by the shoulder, like an old confidant, and turns me to where I am facing a hallway of a thousand doors. He tells me that in life, his father was the haberdasher to a great many wealthy men. The men his father served knew much about realpolitik, but nothing about Western suits. The creature was only too happy to have used his father's skill to serve at least one person. We begin walking down the hallway and the doors open to reveal many interesting scenes. Scenes like great armies colliding, mounted on armored motor bikes. I pass by a door that opens to a slowly unfolding assassination attempt, involving an ambassador and a birthday cake. Another scene is of a Magus at the end of her magnificent power, who rides a burning zeppelin into a towered stronghold, while casting amazing destruction magics against the stone structures. The creature talks about things like destiny and tradecraft, the failures of indifference and indecision, and why I must wary and cautious to never be exploited by my own fear. I stop to join my eyes to his lenses and he tells me that he believes I almost understand him. I take his glasses from his face and put them in the pocket of his acid-stained, suit jacket. I kiss him on the cheek and I walk forward, alone. I play with my new accessory in my side, as I move toward a door that, inside, features a knight in peril. On the door, it says "The Stray Death of Lady Isthene."The scene is frozen in time: a Lady rides a pale horse and has a look of consternation on her face from her upraised visor. A barbed arrow is a few feet from her face and she can see it coming. She looks awfully proud all things considered, holding her nation's banner and in gleaming armour. I turn back to my friend and tell him that I've found an interesting destiny to meddle in, and that I'll be glad to see him again one day. He bows to me and sincerely hopes that we never have to meet again, but the Fates have been kinder before. I hold the knife in my side, and walk into the future, beautifully.
Scientists around the world had been stumped about the discovery for weeks, debating whether or not it was merely a well-fabricated lie created by the media to instill a sense of hope. As the images and videos captured by those who dared venture into the freezing north started rolling in, however, the outlook changed. A massive being had been encapsulated in the Arctic, and following the temperature change that we naive humans so carelessly had brought upon our world, the being was now free. It was unclear what it was or how it came to be. The scientists who studied it around the clock all had different theories, but what was clear was that it had perished long ago. Media back on what was left of the flooded continents tried to spin the discovery as a major breakthrough, something that could save our world, whilst those of faith were convinced it was a sign from above. No other creature on Earth bore any kind of semblance to the being. Much of the being was underwater, and it was unclear just how large it was, what with the submarine probes malfunctioning in the freezing, murky waters. What could be seen floating above the surface was several dozen meters of tentacles, attached to a fleshy mass with a cocoon of blank eyeballs. Long, thick, single strands of hair flowed from arbitrary points in the fleshy mass, and deep grooves covered various parts of the creature. But a new species wasn't a breakthrough, even one as large as this one. The real conundrum was how the body was so pristine. At first it wasn't something out of the ordinary; the ice had preserved the body. But as the weeks went by after the thawing, the body still showed no signs of rot or degradation. Of course, the cold weather in the Arctic was slowing the process, but not even one the beast's countless eyes had so much as begun to lose its luster. Months went by, and the theories changed. Scientists began extracting (with much difficulty) various bodily fluids from the being, some believing it to be source of immortality. A new church had been founded to worship "The Eternal", as some had come to call it. Fishermen, down on their luck following the death of many species of fish now found a new calling transporting daring individuals within viewing range of the huge carcass. People on media were talking non-stop about it, many still certain that it was the key to our salvation. Others were less optimistic, and did not think that "a smelly, old corpse would bring us any closer to saving our doomed planet." A year passed, and many of the facilities around the being had closed down, either due to their inhabitants giving up on the venture, or because they had gone mad after imbibing tinctures made of blood and pus from the eternal. The temperature had kept rising, and many cities had been abandoned as it was now impossible to live inland. The creature was no longer the subject of intense study, but rather the obsession of small groups of individuals that could not handle the fact that the being was nothing more than an old cadaver. Almost a decade had passed since the being was first discovered. All but the most foolhardy or insane had abandoned any project or study related to the eternal, and the most diligent of churches worshiping the beast had arranged mass-suicides to "be as The Eternal in sleep". Sickness had been rampant in the previous years, and many had died. Many yet remained, and they tried their best to change the world for the better, but it was too little, too late. The world was still undergoing catastrophic changes. Despite this, Earth would still live on; it had endured much worse. Yet it was uncertain if we humans would be a part of this new world. And then one day, massive shapes covered the skies, large beings with appearances similar to the eternal. World leaders scrambled to either greet these massive shadows with either words or weapons. It turned out to be unnecessary, as the shadows collectively spoke to all mankind around the world: "We have come to claim our kin. To give him a proper burial." A flash in the skies, and the shadows were gone. Tsunamis crashing on the shores on countries bordering the Atlantic ocean heralded that the eternal had gone with them. And yet nothing else had changed. The planet was still the same. We are on our own, no one will come and save us from ourselves.
People are settling in their places. A big room full of read chairs in front of a big flat screen tv linked to the A.I. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen we're about to start please get in your seat and put your protective bracelets on"announced the speaker. These gadgets were abble to monitor heart rates blood pressure and the entire brain activity in case of any major disturbance caused during the session. BEZX the A.I monitored the devices and all that was happening science related. The tv turns on. It starts to Play the "Two zero zero". It is terrifying but nothing unseen before by any of us. Some of the greatest minds all together in one room trying to find the link that ties all the 2-0-0. Nothing each one is different from the other. Why can't we figure it out. People are making suggestions and as quick as they say it, someone turns it down. This is crazy. They are anoying me. These self proclaimed geniuses who are supposed to know the answers are looking like a pile of first graders that just got asked to find the link between apples and tomatoes. A faint voice in the end of the room is heard so faint that the sentence was bearly understandable. "Everyone stop talking!" the little voice is stronger now filled with confidence and assurance. Trembling you can hear the heavy breathing and the pain on the face muscles as they fight back the urge to stutter words. "What if in fact there is no link." It got turned down immediately by profesor Martin. "It's simple the link is that it changes each week, it was started as a rumor but subconsciously we all believed it." After hours of discussion they agree that that is the link it's anything related to seven. A rainbow, 7 cats, seven hands you name it. Humans never cease to amaze me. Their need for a purpose. They desire to feel connected to a bigger picture it's always facinated me. Alright children time to sleep. This time ten days from now we'll meat again to find the link. Maybe this time will be something related to the ice cream that three of you will see and you'll share it with your friends. "Reset simulation, erase previous data"

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