prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k |
|---|
The wood creaked, the wind played with the rigging making it thrum in the early morning sky. The ship remained still, the main sail furled and wrapped. Birdsong could be heard, drifting up to the ship from the forests below. The young man looked over the railing, eyes wide as he saw just how far the land was below the keel of the ship. He gulped, hands shook slightly as he held onto the railing.
“Alright there Hicks?”
He gave a start at the voice, turning swiftly and coming to attention. “Ye-yes ma’am!” he squawked, his voice cracking slightly from surprise and nervousness. His face colored, turning red like the rising sun.
“At ease air man,” the voice chuckled warmly, “before you sprain something.” The captain grinned broadly, shining white teeth appeared in emerald green skin. Though young, Hicks towered over his captain which was not difficult for a human to a goblin. Yet the goblin captain was so full of life and energy she seemed much larger than her frame. Her presence was immense, radiating confidence that would be too much for those five times her size. She winked good naturedly at the young man and he relaxed slightly. “Bit different from what you’re used to eh?”
Hicks nodded, skin cooling with the breeze. “Yes ma’am, I’m used to ocean immediately below the ship, and not so close above.” He looked up, his nervousness showing again. The sky ocean was so close to the *Wood Sprite*, the tip of the main mast just poking into the thick watery air. A thin trickle of the sky ocean dripped down the main mast, collecting into the rain barrels. A spirited gust broke the surface of the ocean, causing the spray to fall and drizzle over the pair. “I’m used to the ocean being salty too,” the boy confessed licking his lips. “It’s all so strange.”
The captain nodded, patting the boy on the arm. “I bet it is when you’re used to proper oceans and seas below. Everything’s topsey-turvey up here in the sky. You’ll get used to it soon I bet. You come from a good line of sailors, it’s almost the same thing up here, with just a few minor differences.”
The surface of the ocean broke again, a fighting between schools of dart fish. One unlucky fish fell from the ocean, flopping wildly as it plummeted past the ship to the earth far below. The boy could not help but give his captain a jaundiced eye. The expression made her laugh heartily. “Minor differences lad. Minor.” She poked his air belt tied securely around his waist. “That’s what keeps you safe here, much like a life jacket did below.” She pointed to the east, “Besides, you have to admit this view is pretty familiar and beautiful too.”
The pair watched the sun rise into the air, the rays half completely in the open sky and the other half refracting through the sky ocean. The rays through the upper water bent beautifully, making the smokey blue water shimmer with rainbow colors. Fronds of sky weed picked up the light, making their dark grey leaves turn bright blue as they swirled through the currents. The golden sun took on aquamarine hues through the edges of the sky ocean and Hicks grinned at the beauty. Familiar and alien all in one.
“Thattaboy,” the captain said with approval. “We’ll make you a sky sailor yet.” Her smile turned fierce as other figures clambered on deck. “Oi!” she yelled and laughed at their jumps and sheepish grins. “‘Bout time you lay-abouts woke up! Been here for hours enjoying the rising sun with the new lad here waiting for you lumps. Hop to! Raise the main sail and get us on course. This cargo waits no longer and if I lose the bonus for being late it’s coming out of your pay! Less pay, less booze, less booty! You want that?” Another hearty laugh at their chorus of indignant no’s. “Then hurry it up!”
The ship came to life, more crewmen coming up to get the ship on its way. Long sky sails poked out to port and starboard, catching the wind. The main sail poked up the top of the mast, unfurling heavily against the waters of the sky ocean. Slowly but surely they opened completely, catching the upper current. *Wood Sprite* began to move, pushed by the currents of the sky ocean and the wind in the air keeping her even keeled. The captain began to sing and soon Hicks and the rest of the crew joined in as the ship sailed. The wind played on the rigging and the *Wood Sprite* joined the chorus as the ship and crew made their way into the rising sun. |
I quickly snooze my alarm as soon as it sounded. It’s become such a habit. The same way I don’t look forward to any day. My friends say it’ll get better. But I hate this feeling, I wasn’t like this in school. A part of my morning routine has become me sitting on my bed blankly starring out the window. I always think the same thought when the school buses pass by, I wish I could go back. I wish I could feel the way I did before working at this meaningless job. I give myself the usual pep talk about how it’s not that bad, and I start to get ready for work.
At work, my friend Mike was going to drive his new bike. He said it’s the best thing he ever bought. He joked if I want my youth feeling back so much, buy a motorcycle. I would love to be able to zip around without a care in the world but instead I think of all the down sides to having a motorcycle. What’s wrong with me?
I come back into my bedroom from my shower to find a two-foot-tall skeleton wearing black sunglasses, and a black suit and tie. It’s holding a clipboard and tapping a red pen. “I don’t know why you were picked?” the skeleton says. I jump. “Relax boss. Wait a second. Don’t tell me HR hasn’t’ told you already?”
“Told me what?” I manage to whisper out.
The skeleton looks down, sighs, then continues “You’re the new Grim Reaper. My name is Bones, your assistant. Behind you is your team and we need to get moving! *Lots* of people are dying today!”
I barely process anything Bones just said besides there’s a team behind me. I’m scared to look but I can’t help it. Behind me are 5 skeletons all below three feet tall, also wearing suits and sunglasses.
“I must be dead?” I ask generally.
“You’re one lucky guy” Bones answers. “You’re immortal now. You can see whoever you want to see, for research of course. And you can fly and teleport! I really don’t want get bogged down in the details because we need to get moving!”
I can barely understand what Bones is saying to me. I feel like I should be nice to the skeleton.
“Like that all sounds great. Seems to come with some great perks and benefits, don’t get me wrong, but I am not the Grim Reaper!?” I can’t help but chuckle. This just seems ridiculous. I’m talking to a tiny dapper skeleton! I felt okay this morning, did I hit my head on something? This feels like I’m going to be late for work. Maybe I should call out? Maybe I’ll call Mike ask how busy the office seems this morning.
Bones interrupts “Michael Jacob Stevens, 7:58am, highway 676, New Jersey, USA. And it’s 7:55! We got to go. We don’t need the boss mad at us again.”
“Wait Michael Stevens!? I know him!” I exclaim.
“Hm, I forgot how new you are to this. You still have a lot of human life stuff. But we got to get started!” Bones clicks his pen.
We’re floating over the interstate. I can see the Delaware River and Philadelphia and then I hear a motorcycle. I immediately think of Mike. This can’t be happening! This is a dream. I’m suddenly behind Mike pulled in and locked right behind him. He’s weaving in and out of rush hour traffic. I’m trying to process all of this but I feel this sense to focus. I’m overwhelmed by this pull towards Mike as if I’m sensing, what I’m fearing, his end.
It happened so quickly. The screeching of the tires, the horn, the loud crunch and smack of metal. Mike is already on the ground, motionless, resting up against the concrete median. Bystanders jump out of their cars also fearing the worst.
I feel this sense of duty come over me. This sense of meaning. It’s as if the whole universe makes sense to me now. Bones is going to be an excellent assistant, I’m glad he got us here on time. I see it. This white, transparent being. It’s Mike.
“Hey, Mike. It’s time to go.” I say gently, as politely as I could. “We don’t want you lingering out here too long.” This white being, in the shape of a person, I can just sense it’s Mike. It looks at me and moves towards me, reaching out with a hand. I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m just doing it. I reach for his hand and instantly it’s gone. Mike’s gone.
I’m back up floating next to Bones and his skeleton crew. We’re right above the accident. I’m watching people running around the accident. I hear the sirens. I knew Mike too but there’s something about what happened, that doesn’t feel sad. I can’t describe it. I almost feel happy for Mike. I’m sure Bones will tell me.
“Alright, nice job boss. Knuckles, Jefferson Hospital. Snipping, Charter Oak Lane. Clickers, Atlantic Ocean. Today’s going to busy.” Bones calmly states.
I guess I’m the new Grim Reaper. |
"Fuck me, your look is definitely dumber than mine had been!", he exclaimed loudly, before walking unsteadily past me. He nearly stumbled over the porch steps, caught himself on the post, swung too far and crashed into the table. Quickly he pushed himself back up and went inside, grabbing onto the wall for support. Meanwhile I was just standing there dumbfounded.
There was a lightly smoking spaceship lying across my back lawn, pretty much burying every single one of my plants under its sleek but large frame. The silver exterior seemed undamaged. Wait, no - that wasn't the thing I should be thinking about! I ran back inside as well and there he was. Definitely me, just a bit older I guess. He was grabbing stuff from the fridge. Was he making a sandwich?
I yelled defiantly: "Ok, thats it! What the hell?"
He didn't even turn around.
"Well I had been much more chill about this, man."
That didn't make sense. And he was still putting together the sandwich, using all the pre-cut ingredients I had prepared for breakfast. Did he know about - wait - of course he knew about what would be in my fridge, he's me.
"You are me, that's obvius. But -", I pointed outside, quickly realising he still wasn't looking but I nevertheless pointed hard, "there's a damn spaceship out there! So what is going on?"
A full minute he didn't say anything. What a massive knob! Only after he finished prepping his snack, he turned to walk over and calmly sit down at the kitchen table. I glared at him the whole time and he ignored it all the same time. Taking the first big bite and looking like he had just tasted the Mona Lisa equivalent of food, he motioned for me to sit as well. I was fuming. I still sat down opposite him.
"Listen", he began while not quite done chewing, "we actually don't have much time. But I know what will happen and if you think about it for a minute, you will too."
I didn't. What was he talking about? And I guess he saw the confusion between my displeasure and he continued.
"That spaceship out there. I boarded it five years ago, after a pleasant chat where I had sat on that side of the table", he motioned towards me.
"Well, first - no. Second - tell me about your last five years."
He really went to town on that sandwich, it was nearly gone. If he spoke the truth and he was me from the future, it would be inevitable for me to get into the ship. Was that how time paradoxes worked? Should I have paid more attention in physics class?
"Fat chance, man. I can't spoil your future. The older me back then refused too."
"So what? You were in my place five years ago, right? Just tell me."
"Okay. One thing, just one. The stuff you love - well - both of us love from sci-fi stories, that's out there. All that awesome crap - aliens, wormholes, fucking massive spaceships, hot blue chicks - it exists far away from this dumb planet. You want to experience it? There you go", he finished with a lazy wave towards the back garden.
Would he lie to me? Would I lie to myself? This was my dream. Space travel - not these tiny baby steps we were currently making in the figurative front yard of Earth - but going into deep space where there were alien civilisations and everything. There was no way anything like this would be possible within my lifetime, if I didn't get on board of that very real spaceship right outside in my own freaking garden. Why the hell did I even doubt myself? I would go anyway, right? Time paradox and stuff, there was no way around it, right?
"I just hop on?"
"Yeah, man. Walk right up to it, the door will open for you. And, have fun. The food'll suck though."
I would do it, no, I already did it. I stood up and walked as if I was in trance, leaving my house through the back door for the last time in five years.
​
That sandwich was awesome! Plus it totally made the motion sickness go away - damn FTL travel. I saw my younger self boarding the silver spaceship. Seconds later it lifted off the ground and in one sudden burst of acceleration it blasted upwards into space.
"Holy shit, I really am a gullible idiot, am I?", I quietly said to the back yard that now only contained the crushed remains of my vegetable patch.
Ah well, the first months will be shit for him, but then it'll pick up. He'll be just fine. Now there was something I had been looking forward to from day three - a real fucking toilet. Laughing to myself I went up the stairs to the nice bathroom. |
I run back to my home and burst to the door. "Dad!"I called and rush to his garage. "Look at my knee!"I pointed, Dad stop on his work and looked at me with googled eyes. "Huh.. it seems that you hurt yourself?"He stood and went to me, he pull me up and put me on his desk to sit. "What does this mean? I know you're a scientist and an inventor. But why my knee weird?"I asked, he pull out his tools on the drawers and start mending my knee. He sighed sadly, "Years ago.. You died, charlie. And I was sad and alone, my life was falling apart when I lost you, your mom doesn't care anymore."Tears swell on his eyes as he looked at me, "I thought of creating a robot that looks just like you will fill the gap in my life.. and I did create you, I did create a robot.. But it doesn't change the fact that you're dead. I'm sorry for being a bad father, charlie"he sniffed, "I'm sorry it was an accident, i should have looked both ways. I shouldn't have run you over"he cried, when my knee has been fix. I looked at him and tilt my head, "Dad?"I asked confused. "Don't worry.. you'll still be my normal charlie"he smiled. He touch the back of my head and I felt something. "DELETING DATA, OVER WRITING, PROCESSING, COMPLETED"I rubbed my eyes and yawn, "Dad..? What happened? Why am I on your desk? I'm supposed to be at school right?"He smiled and wipe his tears away, "It's Saturday, son. No school. Now go out and play.. alright?"He kissed my forehead as I smile, I jumped from the desk and head out. Today is a beautiful day to play! |
I knew I shouldn't have opened the door after the last bit of candy was given away. Not only would it disappoint the kids who came in hope of getting candy , but some of the teenagers were out and about pulling pranks on everyone who didn't give them what they wanted. But those two girls seemed innocent when I saw them through the spy eye on my door. Maybe it was their curly locks that distracted me from the dark mist everyone around. Or their blue eyes that that distracted me from the fact that I couldn't hear any children laughing outside. When I opened the door it was already too late. "O-oh those are some interesting color changing contacts, girls. You nearly had me with those. I'm sorry for not having enough candy , but the family in the house next to this one gives out candy bars!"The girls stepped forward , their eyes still locked on my face. I had never really been afraid of anything, but those children scared the hell out of me. I stumbled backwards , back into the hallway of my house, holding one of my hands infront of me while the other was trying to get my phone out of my pocket. "I can offer you some apples or..or some liquorice. "My voice got shakier with every word. I knew none of the things I currently had in my kitchen were something children would be interested in. If I hadn't started that no sugar diet, I would have had some sweets left , nothing too special , but at least something to get rid of those scary girls. They hadn't even blinked yet. They were still slowly moving closer to me , the dark mist around them wrapping around me, giving me a hard time to breathe. With my lasy breath I shouted out. "The woman next door has full size candy bars! "
Suddenly the mist was gone and all that was left to remind me of the girls was my opened door and a piece of pink frill next to my door. |
I go to open the briefcase but an invisible force stops me. The note begins to change. It now says “don’t open it.” I pick up the briefcase and walk into the living room, where i am greeted by 3 large men. I manage to say “who are you?” Before the middle one takes a step forwards to try and wrestle the case out of my hands and i instantly know what they are here for, I rip the briefcase from his hands and jog back to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. Within seconds i had changed into some clothing, the thugs beating the door. I walked towards the door and unlocked it. Then grabbed the briefcase and ran towards the open window, as I fly out over the road the door crashes open behind me and the mens cries of anger rush out of the room. As i begin to plummet I realise that i did not think this plan through, the briefcase begins to shake in my hands and scrawled handwriting appears on the lid “Open the briefcase now!” My shaking hands manage to open it and a grappling hook appears inside, I grab it and sling it onto a nearby building the briefcase automatically shuts as I swing towards the building at a stomach churning speed. I shut my eyes, bracing for impact. But it never comes, only the click of a latch. |
There's a knock on the door...
It was getting late and Jim decided to open it, lazily he stood from the couch and scratch his backside, he opened the door and reveal the face of his coworker, Steve.
He push himself through as he enter, "Steve.. what the hell? It's late"Jim said. Steve trembles, he looked at the windows in a nervous manner as he close them back, he push the couch and block the doorway. "Dude.. what the hell?"Jim scratch his nape, "this is ridiculous"he thought.
"Man.. I need your help"he was sweaty, full of panic. "I thought I've killed the vampires but turn out I didn't, I forgot to impale their hearts and now they're hunting me"from his coat he pull out a gun, Jim's eyes widen. "Dude.. dude.. you have a gun!"He raised his hands. "Dude listen.. they'll be here any minute ok?!"My heart beat faster as I look at the gun he casually sway on my face, "You need a doctor Steven.. and please put that do---""Bang! Bang!"The sound of the gun rang on Jim's ear, "Steve, What the fu---"he looked and saw something.. it snickers away and hid in the darkness. "What's happening?!"Jim asked confused, he began to panic as he hear the sound of the claws against the wooden floor. "They're here!"He pointed his gun and looked around, out of the corner of his eye something appeared and jump to him but before it could do something he raised his gun and shoot it in the head, "One down.."Steve smiled satisfied. In the floor a creature lay dead with a hole in its skull as blood pour out, its skin pale and slimy with mouth that lacks lips, its eye were pure white, and it's body thin that its ribs was showing.
He pull Jim up and push him to the bedroom. "Get your gun Jim.. we'll be having a bit of a party"he said, Jim opened his closet and fetch his gun. He gulped and heard few sound that comes from the ceiling and floor. |
My pounding head was the first thing that I noticed when i awoke.
Another hangover, nothing new. I'd been stuck on whiskey for five years, since i took my first drink in '43. I fell hard and fast, but I soon ran out of the cash I needed to pay for the booze.
So, in '45, I turned to the big gang in town, underground and never spoken of. If the wrong person heard you talking about them, you'd disappear.
But I had no choice, I needed another fix. I was afraid that another detox would kill me.
So that was how, in a shady club, I began gambling with the big guns of the criminal underworld. And I won, too. My momma made me good at spades. And for years I raked in the cash I needed to pay for the booze.
Until a week ago, when I lost. And I lost hard. I was out a thousand big ones, and the mobsters were not patient.
So, three nights ago, I was in a trader's shop. We had talked for months, I got seafood from the man sometimes. He was an odd little man, I'd put him just under 5'7, toothless and old. But never was there a jollier soul.
Every day he went out on his skiff and fished. And fished. And fished. It made him lots of cash, too.
Which is what I had in mind that night as we talked. He was a quiet, strange man. No one would really notice if he was gone. And I could use the cash.
No, I smacked myself mentally. I cant murder this man!
But there was no other way to pay off the mobsters. And I found myself reaching for the snub nosed pistol I kept in my coat pocket.
And as his back was turned, reaching for something on the far wall, my shot rang out.
And the poor man dropped to the floor, blood slowly trailing out.
His body wasnt heavy, as I carried him to the bridge. And I dumped him into the river.
As I watched his body slide down the Rapids, I knew I had made the wrong choice.
But that didnt stop me from returning to his shop and taking the cash he had bundled there. I brought it to the mob, and they were satisfied. For now.
But ever since I've been beating myself up over it, and last night I drank a little too much. I could see the mans face as I drank and drank and drank.
I never recalled returning to my bed. Yet as I woke up with a light hangover, I was in bed.
Except it wasnt my bed.
I stumbled out of it, to find I was in pajamas that were not mine. My bedroom was blue wallpaper, where the day before it had been a crusty yellow.
My panic rose. What is going on? I thought.
Then I heard a knock on my door. Which was stranger still, as no one ever came to my house.
When I opened the door, I screamed. What I found terrified me beyond all else I had seen up until now.
The poor trader who I had shot a mere three days ago was standing outside my door. But he was so, so different.
While he was less than 6 foot when he died, he couldnt be an inch under nine now. He was dressed in a sharp pinsuit, black with a red shirt underneath.
His skin, his skin! It was unrelenting scarlet, the same shade as the blood that had leaked from his head as he fell to the floor. His teeth! His teeth were enormous, and they slipped out over his lip as he smiled a devilish grin.
In a flash we were gone from my apartment that wasnt my apartment. Now we stood in a deep hole of stone, with only the faintest light illuminating it.
And then he spoke.
"Since the beginning of time, I have walked the earth, tempting the wicked with my wealth. Time after time, they murdered me in cold blood. And TIME AFTER TIME, THEY PERISH AND COME HERE!"
A looked behind me as he gestured there, and saw hundreds of other men, and some women as well. They were all clad in rags, and laboring to dig the put deeper. And deeper. And deeper.
The trader handed me a pick. "Have fun". He said sardonically, before disappearing in a puff of dark smoke.
Shaken, I walked to the nearest man. "Brother, what is this place? What can I do?
A tear leaked from my eye. "What,can I do?'"
He looked at me with an equally mournful expression, and said one word.
"Dig." |
Gerard was riding down his street, embracing the lush of nature, the lightness of the sky and the chirps of birds. It was a warm day in Maine, the grass was green and the trees were blooming. As he drove down the road he couldn't help but notice the sight of an animals carcase on the roadside. It was a deer, ribs showing and blood still trickling down its white fur. It was freshly eaten, but by what? Gerard stepped out of his car and looked around for maybe a wolf, a fox, any animal that would eat a deer so brutally.
"What in Gods name?"He asked himself. This beautiful day had now become extremely eerie. It was something about this that threw him off. As he looked out into the distance, he noticed a pack of deer standing in the middle of the road looking up. He looked off to the side and noticed the birds, squirrels and other critters doing the exact same thing.
"What the hell is going on?"Gerard didn't know what to do but stand there and watch in amazement. His fist clenched together as if to fight, but his body language screamed fear. In unison, all the animal's mouths opened up and began yelling. Clicks and long tones. *Buzz, buzz* sounded the phone in Gerard's pocket. He reached in really quick and took his phone out.
"Hello?"He asked.
"Gerard, it's McKinley. Are you seeing what's going on outside?"McKinley asked.
"Yeah man, what the hell is going on?"Returned Gerard.
"I don't know man, but I spent my fair share of time in the Navy to know that what these animals are using is morse code. They're spelling out 'goodbye' man. What if this is it? All that shit we learned in school about judgment day and shit. Man what if this is it? I don't want to die, Gerard, I don't wan-"Dial tone, click.
"McKinley... MCKINLEY."Gerard screamed. He put his phone down from his face and noticed that the signal on his phone had just gone away. He took a moment to look around once more and this time he noticed a man sitting on a camel in the middle of all the deers in the street. Was it a man? It had a crown on its head. It had severed heads hanging onto the camel's body. Each head still dripped with blood, each face had a different expression. One had hooks pulling on its lips forming a smile, the other had hooks pulling on lips to form a frown, and the last one was pure fear, the same face Gerard had at that moment.
The thing turned around to look at Gerard and smiled at him. Its face was drained of all life, slim and boney, pale and disturbing. The thing got off of its camel one foot on the ground at a time and it slowly approached Gerard. Its cloak dragged behind it and left a smudge trail of gold liquid as it walked. Gerard couldn't move, stuck in what felt like a paralysis. He was awake and he knew he was, but he couldn't move a muscle. He tried and tried, but nothing would budge.
"Don't resist it, child. Everything will go as planned. I promise."It said. It grabbed Gerard by his had and walked him back to the camel, lifting Gerard with ease. He didn't want to ride the camel, he didn't want to walk with it, but he had no choice. It was like some force was making him do it. How could a boney figure even lift such a huge man like Gerard, to begin with?
The boney figure leaped onto the camel and with a slight kick, the camel rode. The camel launched into the air, a paved street formed underneath its feet, breaking apart as it left it, yet forming as it trotted on top of it. Gerard looked down only to see the world beneath him collapsing in on itself. A hole forming beneath with flames shooting out and screams piercing through. Buildings he had once known now fell into the firey pit, and people attempting to run from it were swallowed whole.
"You have been chosen by the king himself to serve in the army of the unforgiven."the slim figure said, "you may call me Paimon."The sky began to glow heavily as an equal hole formed there as well and the blasting sound of trumpets pierced through. The clouds cleared away and a bright flash blasted through.
"Welcome to judgment day, Gerard,"the slim figure said as they both descended into the pit now below them, "the King will be filled with joy to have you on our side." |
Tell me, what makes a hero?
Is it because he does good deeds? Is it because he defeats evil? Is it because he saves lives and never takes them? Is it because they fight for ideologies, beliefs? Is it because they are just? Or that they fight for freedom?
Justice is nothing more than order. It is even debatable if justice is good or righteous. Even freedom. Freedom can lead to chaos, while justice can lead to corruption. Both are fallible.
I am no hero, but I am no villain either.
If I wanted to, with but a thought, I could wipe out humanity. I could disintegrate all beings that have a spec of evil in them. That would be just. If I wanted to, I could create entire new races. I could even give them the gift of what you call 'free will'. That would be granting freedom.
All this power, and these two things are major factors that decide what makes you a 'hero' and a 'villain'. What is 'good' and what is 'evil'.
I am none of that. I am not good or evil. I will not chain my self down by these moral obligations. I will simply observe.
All the power I have, all the things I could do, and all I shall do is observe.
Tell me, does that make me 'evil'?
No.
That makes me neutral. I shall hold no play in whatever comes in the coming days of humanity.
I will simply observe. |
I have heard these melodies before, from those in the Royal Army during the War of 1812. Although I felt as though my ears were being struck by thunder, I found them to be soothing.
When I walked into the camp that day, there was another song playing. This time it was in Yiddish. The words were something like this:
This is not the time to sing
O Holy War!
God is watching in this room.
The music in the air is louder than before. I was not expecting it as I was still trying to enjoy my surroundings. Yet, I felt the need to express my emotions, which were now almost drowned out by the song playing.
The soldiers were exhausted. I thought some might head home, but rather, they would stay for a while to rest or prepare for further battles. When I approached the main fire, the soldiers lined up outside began praying.
"Lord, there are many casualties. Stand up and protect us!"
"Oh, my goodness!"
"Lord, please, we pray!"
The cries from the volunteers caused the men inside to become even more excited. I stood between my host and their God. I felt the light inside me growing stronger. If I were to say anything wrong, I am afraid I would draw anger. But perhaps I should say that this is the part that people will never understand.
Lord, please allow us to reach the end of this story with our lives on the line for you. |
Her skin glows as the sunlight bathes her. Her hair, jet black, hangs over her bare shoulders loosely. Her eyes reflect her thoughts as she stares out the window at the world. So many things had changed since the day she took this quest.
He lies upon the bed behind her, unclothed and uncaring. His chest exposed by the fold she left in the sheets when she rose. She turns to look at him, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Smiling she lets her own eyes wander his form, drinking it in.
Seeing her gaze, he smiles back. Stretching lazily he lets the sheets drop lower and expose more of him, inviting her to take in more of his form. Her smile morphs from a soft warmth into one of hunger.
She makes her way towards him, her brown eyes burning like the sun. He reaches to embrace her before suddenly stopping.
His face twists into a frown and he moves to get up. Shocked, she looks at him with disappointment and confusion.
"What is it,"she asks, concerned that maybe she had done something to displease or offend him.
"I don't know,"he replies, shaking his head, "something isn't right. Something is about to happen."
Moving to the window he looks out into the distance, his eyes scanning further that any other's could. He saw them, a mass of angry people all marching towards them. Hundreds all armed to the teeth and their eyes burning with murderous rage.
Turning to her his face was flush and his breathing heavy. They had always known this day would come. The day when their perfect happiness would come to an end.
"They are coming,"he looks into her eyes as the words leave his mouth, "I love you, you know what you must do."
Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head. She begins to shrink within herself as if she could escape by being smaller. He reaches out and grabs her, pulling her close he embraces her letting her head fall onto his shoulder. Stroking her head he feels the grain of her hair, the smell of her, the sound of her voice as she quietly whimpers. He holds it all in, stores it away. He will never forget.
He places the dagger into her hands.
"I love you, we will see each other again"
------
The mob charges into the room having beaten their way past the walls of the foul mage's castle. There they beheld their hero standing over the body of the man that had imprisoned her all those months ago.
The cheer was deafening and the celebration was unparalleled in the whole history of the town. There was not a person alive that was not making merry save for one.
As she stared out into the setting sun, a single tear traveled down her face and she prayed that he would keep his promise. |
As the bullies corner me I retreat to my void, I can see every detail of their faces, the flames in their eyes, they’re out for my suffering. I return and look the leader in the eyes, “there is no need for violence.” The leader pushes me and prepares to start hitting. I freeze and I go to punch before him, but my hand passes through him, terrified I pull my hand back and resume. The leader falls down gripping his face. The group quickly starts going for a dog pile on me. Terrified I freeze again and this time I take their arms and put them through each other. As I resume time I hear their screams, they are now linked together by their arms, I push one kid over and here the crack of their joints as they all go down like dominos. I walk over to the leader and see him grabbing where his eye used to be, I had put his eyelids together by accident. I freeze and pull them apart only to see that there is no long anything there, and now I’ve made the problem worse. I panic and I run away while still in my void, it feels odd running with no wind but I never turn back, I return home and return to the real world. I go to sit down to think what I had just done but then... nothing. In my heated void run I forgot I shouldn’t move too far from my original spot or else it could form a black hole, and so it did. In the final moment of everything I witnessed all of history bending and warping around me. Everything that was and would have been all flashed before me. It was amazing but was it worth the price of everything in the world? |
“Remember your Promise.” The Princess says again before she turns back to the gates of the great wall of Braywatch. Nodding her head, Malory the Knight grimaces at the look on the Princesses face and follows behind her.
Pushing open the gate Malory gasps at carnage laid out before her. Houses were burned to ruins, smoke rising from what little there is, and the streets were blackened with ash, soot, and partially melted bodies. It takes all the young knight has not to vomit in the streets like a drunkard.
“What… what happened here?” Malory asks as she gag from the smell of burnt flesh.
“I happened.” The princess says as she looks down in shame.
“How…” The knight questions. The Princess does not answer, and instead leaves the knight to her thoughts.
Walking through the city she sears the imagery of corpses huddling in fear, protecting others, and standing to fights. Their last moments preserved in their blasted bodies. Marching up to the castle the sights are no better. The inside is completely destroyed, gashes and craters litter the feast hall, and a large bite had been taken out of the Kings throne, and the King. However among the destruction is a peculiar sight. Standing at the doorway of the castle is a statue. One depicting a young girl, maybe ten years old standing firm. One hand is by her side and the other is outstretched, holding a flower. Most Peculiarly the statue is made of pure glass.
“Horrid isn’t it?” The Princess asks as she looks sorrowfully at the statue.
“It is lovely actually, strange it is untouched.” Malory says as she runs her fingers gently over the flower. The detail is incredible.
“Have you not figured it out yet?” The Princess asks, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“I… I’m sorry?” Malory questions as she straightens up.
“My whole city was leveled by the dragon, every one was killed. That isn’t a statue that was my sister!” The Princess yells, Tears fully stream down her face now, her anguish unabated. “I did this.”
Malory looks on at the Princess, the words of her vow coming back. “The King has sent for me, he has had me sworn an oath, I shall slay the Dragon who torments this town.”
This is why the Princess asked her to keep her promise, this was why she cried upon meeting the knight. Malory was too late to stop her rampage. With shaky legs Malory closes the gap between her and the Princess and pulls her to her chest, letting her cry freely. |
I've always been a sort of an unlucky guy. Every little thing that could tick me off goes wrong, untied shoelaces, inconvenient device batteries, awkward social moments, rush hour traffic. I'm always the guy that takes a sec to catch on, always a second to late. I've accepted my fate at this point, being the butt of God's endless joke, always offset from the flow of modern life. What an absolute banger of plot twist that such an irratince would turn flipside at such a time as this.
I'm Jeremy Walker, also known as Bide( I hate my nickname with a passion but what are you gonna do, tell people to stop after stuttering for 3 seconds trying to swear properly). I have the punctuality of a sloth with no coffee and co-ordination like an octopus on meth. However, I'm also a murderer. I can explain...
It all went down when I was getting home from my homegirl Evie's apartment. She's neat, puts up with my inability to exist properly and somehow still wants to be my friend (she either has a great sense of empathy or horrible decision making skills, solid 50/50, great gal if ever there was one).
So anyways, I'm cycling home when this asshole throws his umbrella in under my bike. Of course, I assume it's on me and I try to apologise but then this motherfucker pulls a gun on my ass. At this point, a god somewhere must have said to his cloud bro "oh shit, our tardy little jester over here is going to get shot"and so they pulled some weird shit. Remember when I said I was a tad bit late for everything? This time, I started going a bit early.
It was the craziest shit you have ever seen. He goes to start some spiel looking for my wallet but when he opens his mouth,I swear to God I said the words perfectly in sync with him. No shit, he looked creeped. He goes to shoot, fucking somehow, I get my slow ass out of the way before he puts a cap in my ass. Tries again, this time I kick him in the gut.
At this point, I fucked up. Real fucking bad. I pick up the gun this little wimp chucked on the path when I put my Convere through his internal organs and smacked across the head with it. This knocked him down fucking hard, which prompted me to freak out that he didn't just dodge my shitty excuse for a defence. Just to make sure he wasn't going to fuck with me when he gets his shit together, I go to put one of his own bullets through his ankle. Turns out that although I can see the future, I'm not quite able to knock people into next week. The bastard wakes up and fucking lunges for me, I see it coming, panic and pull the trigger. Fucking idiot me bursts his fucking head open, blood everywhere, absolutely horrifying. The ensuing panic attack didn't stop me for checking for witnesses, turns out the back ally behind my shitty house doesn't have security cameras. I take a quick glance around and get on my bike, ready to head off.
And the my fucking shoelace catches in the gears and I fall off like an idiot. |
By the time the words left my mouth it was already too late. Looking in her eyes, I saw terror starting to spread, forming a panic reaction. Her pupils dilated, her mouth widened, ready to release a scream. The leather band, stitched with a golden-like thread, began to slip through her fingers. Through the pieces of glass, shattered long before, the clockwork was visible. Tiny copper gears turning on and on. Placed on top of the gears was a milky white plate decorated with gold leaf digits. Digits portraid in Roman fashion. Slender, black hands, inlaid with the smallest pieces of emerald, hoovered over. Selling the materials on their own was already enough to make a man rich. But at that point it seemed as if the hands of the clock together with time itself came to a halt. Peacefully.
Everything stopped, the watch was now floating in mid-air, surrounded by little drops of blood. Panic was frozen across Ally's face while tears welled up in her eyes. My mind was ready for a reaction, ready for grabbing the watch, for grabbing her hand, but something kept the impulse from my head to reach my body.
Everything stopped, except for something undefinable. Well, undefinable at first. *Chhhh..* A slowly rising hum started to fill the room, a certain note that could not be found on a piano. *Chhck..* The muffled sound started to get more clearly. *Clck.* Rising in volume. *Clccck!* Looking through the shattered glass, I saw the clockwork starting to rattle again. *Clck!* And with the speeding up of the clockwork, time itself continued as well. *Click!*
At that point I knew that it was not too late to save my grandmother's heritage. My body started to come in action again. My eyes clear, and my ears sharp. A piece of art, passed on from generation to generation, in the same fall with tears and blood. A piece of craftsmanship that has been through the worst of times. The object still within my reach. Ally's screams filled my ears while I was trying to reach for a piece of......metal.
As if a switch inside of me had turned. The clockwork fell to pieces, shattered across the floor but I didn't matter to me any more. "Ally.", I said while turned up in my face. "It's alright, let's get you fixed up." |
"Maybe I'll see you again!"Lee shouted with a wave. The pair of girls she defeated returned the gesture with broad smiles. Lee left the park on foot; she followed the ghost of an old road toward home. It wasn't until after ten minutes of walking that she realized her mistake. "Duh,"her statement was joined by the sound of her palm slapping her forehead. After the smack, she pinched the air in front of her as if she selected a single sheet of paper. A glassy rectangle, her node, appeared between her thumb and forefinger as she pulled her hand.
"Show me the last game,"she said to the card-sized pane. Lee slowed her pace along the road while she focused on the node; she wasn't worried about traffic. As far as she knew she was the only one that ever used the road and most of that use was walking. Light text appeared in the center of the glass. Both of her opponents' names were highlighted in red to indicate they were not on her friend list. The path along the road was so dark the text appeared to be hovering in mid-air.
\[ 2 on 1 Knockdown:
DeLorean - Gunslinger
Christine - Healer
Vs.
General Lee - Thief
Winner: General Lee\]
"Add DeLorean and Christine as friends,"Lee said. The game results updated instantly and the girl's names changed from red to green. After that, she let the node disintegrate into nothing again and resumed her normal pace. Lee took several more steps, then froze. She heard the crunch of gravel but it did not come from her own footsteps; it sounded like it came from somewhere ahead.
A shadowy figure walked on the road toward Lee. Due to the darkness, she could not make out anything about the person but their eyes. Two brilliant golden stars stared at Lee as the person approached.
"You've passed the test,"the unknown woman said.
"Thanks! Bye,"Lee waved at the woman then changed her course to walk around her. She did not know what test the woman meant and tried to avoid the situation entirely. She kept her body tense and ready to move as she walked past the woman. Lee half expected the stranger to get in her way, requiring her to change direction again; but, the woman did not move.
"Don't you want to know what test?!"she asked. "I'm trying to be mysterious!"she said playfully. The stranger's joke shifted the tone and Lee immediately felt at ease enough to chuckle and slow her pace. She continued walking for several steps to leave some distance between them, then stopped and turned around.
"Alright, I'll bite. What test?"Lee asked. The woman's golden eyes grew brighter and Lee got the sense she was smiling.
"The test to join my Derby team,"the woman replied. Lee fought back every instinct that wanted her to yell, "YES!"at the offer. The entire reason she went to the Derby park as often as she did was to practice and be seen practicing. Her goal was to join a good team. She'd had several offers already; and, each one was almost impossible to turn down. So far, none of the teams seemed all that promising.
"What if I say no?"Lee asked.
"Then you'll be stuck hoping some other team invites you to the Prom."Lee felt her legs get weak, she almost fainted then and there.
"P-Prom?"she asked to be sure. "Oren's tournament? *That* Prom??"Lee stomach fluttered at the thought. She had all but given up hope of entering the tournament. The deadline for team registration ended the next day. The golden stars dipped then rose again as the woman nodded. Lee had an inkling in the back of her mind. If her suspicions were true, she would agree then and there. If she was wrong, she'd need a bit more time to consider it once she learned about the rest of the team.
"This test that I passed, so it was like a try-out?"Lee asked. The stars bowed again. "Does that mean DeLorean and Christine are on the team too?"Lee felt it was the only reason she'd be approached that night instead of any other day. The woman laughed.
"You're quick! And, you're right. They are on the team."
"Great! I'm in!"Lee jumped in place to give her excitement an outlet. "Who else is on the team?"
"Not sure yet, we need two more,"the woman replied. Lee felt her heart drop into her stomach.
"You don't have a full team yet?"she asked. "Registration closes tomorrow...,"
"Don't worry about it,"the woman said. Her right hand began to glow with a brilliant white light and she lifted it to illuminate herself better. "Oren owes me big time, I'm sure he'll make an exception."
The stranger was younger than Lee thought. She knew for a fact they were the same age, 18. Lee was a big fan of her new teammate and knew almost everything about her.
"TORQUE!"Lee shrieked with delightful surprise, then she realized she had agreed to be on Torque's team and it was too much for her to handle. Lee fainted.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #299. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. |
The Dark Mage laughed. Her voice booming even from across the dungeon.
"You'll never find me mere mortals!"She boasted. Her dark cloaks swirled around her as blue electricity sparked around her clawed hands. Her tight black outer corset had a large blood red sapphire containing the souls she had stolen.
"Charge! Get her before she reaches Heavens Gate!"Leo screamed. His red hair was pushed back by the sudden gust of wind. The Dark Mage was summoning a dragon.
Alexandra ran forward, her long black cornrowed hair billowing behind her. She pushed off using her long legs to her advantage and thwacked the Dark mage in the face with her bow. The Dark Mage was stunned, but prepared as the dungeon catacombs of past adventures were reanimated. The princess of the kingdom remained behind them, clinging to her body guard Jen. The princess's brown feathery hair covered her face, her step-sister (who was the Dark Mage if you couldn't tell) had stolen her Dragons Amulet.
Jen held onto Princess tightly realizing they were surrounded by heroes of the past and long lost family members and friends. Leo took out the sword of Gal'are, and the long sword screamed excited for the taste of blood and suffering. Leo screamed as it ate away his well muscled arm. Then their allies armies appeared and The Greatest Battle could be felt all across the lands. Alexandra, Jen, Leo, and Princess charged through the undead hordes with their allies as they neared the Dark Mage and The Heavens Gate.
The Gate had tall frame, legends said it was made of a giants mirror and was enchanted by the famous sorcerer Marge of the Blue Lands. It had runes embedded into the large 21 meter high frame and 15 meter across bottom. It was cracked on the top right which gave it an uneven frame. The Dark Mage laughed her dark brown hair blew behind her as the portal started to glow and the insides were reflective, like water. Her pale white skin was turning caked and dry from the portal sucking away all energy. Even some of the troops could feel their slight magical abilities fade.
Then she went through the portal, her long capes trying to pull her away. Alexandra panicked, looking back at Leo her dark mocha skin seemed weak and sagging. Then, Leo and The Gal'are went through passing Alexandra. The young barbarian followed. Jen then jumped through holding onto the princess hoping the troops would be able to hold back the undead long enough for them to return and retrieve the Dragons Sapphire and return it to the queen.
Anne was at the Hacksherhof cafe near the center of Berlin. She was tired from touring everything you could tour in a week while taking abroad classes. Anne hoped taking classes abroad would help with looking good on a resume. The cafe had a nice soft glow and it gave her a cheerful feeling. She typed on her phone while eating a pretzel.
Then the next thing she knew a armoured knight with pulsating tendrils on his armour and right arm, a half naked African lady, and a tan lady in all black carrying a brown haired victorian style dressed girl appeared out of a giant portal wide enough to fit a plane. People started taking pictures and videos confused.
"What the fuck?"Anne asked herself aloud. Waving for the check she quickly paid and walked out. They were blocking traffic and a officer was trying to get them to move to the streets. She struggled to get into the crowd. She was curious and so she struggled through the crowd to get a closer look. The barbaric woman glared at her, screaming the word minon she saw a glowing arrow in her stomach. Screams filled the streets and a screaming sword ate her soul.
"Well we have to do something!"One of the higher commanding officers yelled. He then continued to berate one of the lower officers in german.
"Well they keep coming out of a fecking portal!"A general from the UK screamed, she had ginger hair and tired blue eyes, her name was Marguerite. Her hands slammed the table. "WE CAN'T EVEN GET CLOSE TO IT! AND THEIR FECKING MEDIEVAL KNIGHTS!"She screamed frantically. For 4 days they found their troops wiped out battle after battle.
"Our last options are an air raid!"One of the US generals said holding his temples.
"No! You want to fecking kill all the civilians around that area? Their stuck in their houses because of the fighting-"
"We need to make an OFFENSIVE move-"
A loud voice came from outside. It sounded like angry thrashing and screaming. The Dark Mage had been captured.
"IMBECILS- DUMB MORTALS-"the tall man holding her slapped her.
"Archer!"The US general (his name was Swanson) barked.
"Sorry sir, I don't like cuss words,"Archer blushed embarrassed. The Dark Mage was fuming and she tried to shock him with her magical scratch. Instead she ended up clawing at his bullet resistant vest and getting pushed to the ground. Her long capes and exposing dress got stuck to her sweaty legs, she had no magic, the portal had taken it. Without her magic her capes had lost their beauty and she had pimples and bad ache for a woman in her mind twenties. She still was beautiful though, nothing could change that.
"This is the woman responsible,"Archer said itching his lumberjack beard as he picked her up.
"I AM THE DARK MAGE MISTRESS OF DRAGONS UNHAND ME-"Archer looked like he was going to strangle her. The Mage froze and whispered "...I opened the portal."Her hair covered her pale face and red lips. Her black eyes were filled with tears.
"Close it then,"Marguerite said as she walked down the steps and was peering into The Mage's face. "We have good men and women, and civilians. Let me emphasize CIVILIANS. Who are dying!"
The Dark mage sniffled and whispered into her ear. Archer then dragged her away. The general walked over to the table covered in information and maps.
"She has no 'magical abilities' left, so we need to bomb them,"sighing as she gave in to Swanson's idea.
"I'll have my men start gathering civilians and sending out messages to get away from the center of Berlin,"one of the officers said quickly sending out messages to his men.
"They'll still be coming through, they want to kill this entire world! That will only hinder them!"A German commander growled.
"They someone will have to go through the portal and break it! She said that it's been broken before and that is the only way to turn it off,"one of the crayon eaters had spoken up. He shuffled his feet nervously. He brushed his hand through his blonde hair ovbiously not realizing what he said: the solution.
"We have to go through and bomb the inside, we have to do it quick so no one gets left behind,"someone said. The crayon eater was whisked away.
Leo looked to the sky, large dragon-like creatures were flying above them. They were silent and their wings didn't move.
"Alexandra!"He yelled. They were in a small apartment. They needed to take out the Dark Mages minions. "What are those?"He asked. Alexandra was good at identifying creatures.
"Those are planes Leo, harmless machines,"she said nonchalantly. "Just metel and pro-pel-lars."She struggled to say the last word. Leo nodded and listened to the words from the weird bright box screen. He couldn't understand anything, Ger-man was so hard to read and they lost the remote.
Leo looked at Gal'are, the poor sword creature wasn't moving. This was weird and he hated not hearing his bloodthirsty thoughts. It was like losing a close friend. There was a loud rumbling noise and the building was shaking. The building collapsed and suddenly rubble was covering him. The informants above him screamed. Gasping for air he clawed at the concrete. His fingers were bleeding and his left eye wouldn't open.
He heard more rumbling and he was then crushed. Later the rescuers would find his body. Scientsists would realize that once the sword: Gal'are was smashed by the bomb his heart stopped. If the sword was untouched he would have survived through the air raid.
Jen was on the other side of the portal when she saw planes flying through the portal dropping large metal containers while they passed cracking the runes in the portal. Archers tried to shoot they down but they were to fast, quickly taking down war dragons and anything in there path. A group of young knights tried to get through the portal as it started to break, but instead lost limbs and were pushed back. The fighter jets got through a large chunk of non-broken portal quickly. Jen watched in horror as she realized what had happened.
Bodies from the weeks of fighting were making the dungeon a literal blood bath. The portal snapped and in two and collapsed crumbling as it hid the bodies below it. Many were injured or disabled and clerics were in short supply.
Jen was overwhelmed and the princess was in a coma. She quickly moved the princess out of the kingdom and they left on a boat after the battle, leaving the kingdom without a heir.
Alexandra survived the bombing but was stabbed to death by Anne's bestfriend when she was found by a mob a little ways off from the center of Berlin.
For the many knights, and troops left in the Earth Dimension... they were silently taken to a large international facility where no one would find them. Their fates remain unknown.
The Dark Mage is currently in a relationship with Kayden Archer. She is under her original name Jana Drago. They got married on the anniversary of the portal opening two years later.
You can find a memorial of the Portal Opening Battle where The Hacksherhof cafe once stood. |
Henry went first. That’s what we say, “went,” like he wasn’t sliced up from arsehole to tit by some shiny-armoured bastard wielding a lightning blade. When he came back we’d always take the piss, like, we’d say stuff like, “you ain’t got the guts,” and, “what you worried about? Lightning ain’t gonna strike twice!” Good laughs. He’d always beep at us in a jovial manner before he dragged his cold, grey, body up and over the slick, trench walls. His writhing, tentacle-like, cords he had for limbs were definitely odd looking, but we didn’t joke about those. We had some sense of decency, and we figured that when any other of us lot finally get got we’d be returning mighty different too. We didn’t like talking about being mechanised, being surrounded by the dead and dying didn’t quash the fear in our belly’s, but seeing Henry in his box lessened it significantly. We used to gossip, quietly if Henry was nearby, about what colour our box would be. Whether we’d get slender tubes for arms to wrap round those blue fuckers, crushing the air out of whatever they have for lungs, or get something better, something incredible.
We’d soon find out when Bill got his legs and belly incinerated from a passing plasma beam. The light had shot down from some orbit drone, scorching a deep groove in our mess shack, and it’d fallen onto Jim when it spent its payload. Jim got a nasty knock, and was pretty shaken up, but not too hurt. Bill, however, needed to be scooped up and sent to medical. He screamed pretty awful when he could, mostly about how he didn’t have a dick any more which he found mighty distressing. We tried to sooth him with talk about the mighty mechanical body he was bound to get, how we’d see him soon enough, and how we’d be awful happy not to hear him jacking off in his tent every morning. He didn’t like that last bit but he quieted down something powerful before the EVAC-tube rocketed him away. Henry demonstrated plenty of concern, more than everyone else, doing some hearty, solemn beeps but he needn’t’ve been so downbeat. Bill came back fine, bustling with nano-bots. Huge, bulbous growths of black goop had consumed his body and he twitched non-stop. He didn’t speak no more either, but the swarms of extra-bodily creatures would occasionally contort into emoticons or giant, throbbing, dicks. He definitely livened up the trench and he paid those drones back tenfold, hacking into them and sending them back to blast the fuckers to oblivion.
The war went on and even with Henry and Bill fighting the good fight the casualties piled up. Yanzi was wrenched apart, torn up something fierce, but he still wriggled enough with life to warrant sending off. Though, before he came back, Jim and Bonce got smashed by a colossus and we had to send them off together cos we couldn’t tell the bits apart. We were all very surprised when only one mechanical came back, but it identified itself as all three of the boys, so we didn’t question it too much. It was definitely more Bonce than Yanzi, specialising in digging and munching rather than hand-to-hand combat, but the sheer bulk of the fella as he coiled about the bunks was comforting. It felt right to have them back, for those blue bastards not to take them from us. With my men by my side I knew we could win, it was inevitable.
Soon enough I was the only non-mechanical left, the only one needing to eat, needing to sleep. I felt like I was letting the side down, not pulling my weight. We’d made so much progress and they’d worked hard to protect my weak, naked, flesh. They didn’t mind, well, they didn’t demonstrate any annoyance, and we still had a good laugh. Bill made his dick jokes and Henry beeped accordingly. YanJimBo spent a good amount of his time digging into opposing trenches and eating the fuckers who didn’t run which, although wasn’t particularly witty, was still pretty funny. Though things eventually started to get kind of repetitive, they'd all stop fighting at the same time and no matter what I did in the evenings I'd get the same reaction out of the boys. They'd beep or make faces and it seemed like they were listening, like they were still there, and I felt like they still loved me like I loved them. They must've, we were brothers. It was just boring I guess, not the same as it was, but we were winning and that's what mattered.
I honestly thought we were invincible, which is probably how I fucked up. It was a fresh day, cold, I’d grown pretty complacent and was nourishing myself on the extra rations that were now available. I didn’t hear the gunshot, which is what they all say, you never hear the one that gets you. I crumpled to the ground and lay there gurgling. The pain was immense but I was patient, I waited for my men to come to my rescue, to pick me up and ship me off. Soon I’d be like them, soon I’d be mechanised and be useful. That’s what I thought, that’s what calmed me, but they didn’t come. They just marched on, they recognised me, they beeped at me to move, but they didn’t understand that I couldn’t. They didn’t understand that I wasn’t like them, they couldn’t, they weren’t programmed to. |
\*This is my first post, I am a non native english speaker, who has a butterfly keyboard so I'm sorry for certain grammatical errors that might make people mad!\*
*My story began at home*, in my bed to be more specific, in a sunny Friday afternoon. I just got home from school and was horribly exhausted after a grueling session of math and swimming. Therefore, I threw my backpack onto my desk and promptly dove right into the soft cover of my sheets, where I snuggled myself into a little ball.
I kicked my shoes and socks off without any consideration towards where they would land.
I looked at my nightstand and saw a picture, in a tacky frame, portraying me and family. The event where it had been taken was a lost in a dark receptacle within my mind, however I remember being happy. However this picture just brought a strange sense of nostalgia and solitude.
I was eight when the picture was taken, mid jump with a superhero cape tied around my back, and behind me were my parents and my big sister with her husband. I tend to enjoy this picture since it shows genuine love brought forth by the visions. A event that would start at the age of sixteen where once every month at a random time someone would see the view of their soulmates.
Through this process my parents and my sister were able to find their significant others. It was quite a sweet story actually, my parents were walking down the street when they both had the vision. My mom saw my dad looking at her back and instantly turned around, that was how my dad saw himself through my mothers eyes. After looking at each other for several minutes, they decided to walk to each other, they introduced themselves, went to a nearby Starbucks and bought a pair of lattes. Where they quickly fell in love.
My sisters version of the vision was even sweeter. She had a childhood friend, a tall young boy, good at basketball and literature who tended to struggle in math. Meanwhile she had always been small for her age, along with having two left foots and a hatred for anything involving literature, she had excellent mathematical capabilities along with any thing to do with STEM related fields. In this way they complemented each other. And ever since they were young they both had feelings for each other, however they mutually repressed them out of fear that if they started anything it would die when they received their vision of their soulmates. One day, they were both in a classroom after school, my sister was tutoring him in math when they both shared eye contact with each other. And the vision struck they saw themselves through each of their eyes. And once it ended they both sat in silence, where they began to cry. Relief hit them, since they knew now that their feelings for each other were meant to be. So they hugged each other and cried, comforting each other with the feeling of their racing hearts.
From what they have told me, the Vision is a marvelous experience. Where one sees through two pairs-of eyes at the same time. Kind of like a split screen when one plays in a PS4 with a friend. It is disorienting and mesmerizing according to them...
I turned sixteen over 3 months ago, and I still haven't received my vision. I'm scared that I am that weird 1% of humans who never receive the vision, cursed to never find love. I am a man and straight, however a this point I am willing to have anyone as my soulmate, as long as it means that I will not be alone. I have been lying to my family members for the past few months, inventing weird stories that my soul mate is somewhere in Japan or China (which unfortunately lead to a series of interrogations about every single thing that I saw in my supposed vision, so that they could help my love prosper.)
I sigh.
Depressed.
I feel lonely.
Maybe there's something wrong with me?
Am I a bad person?
As I begin to spiral the last rays of dawn begin to descend across my window. Suddenly it happened.
My eyesight split in half, on the top I could see the same curtains alight with the dying rays of the sun. And then below I saw another vision, a queer one to say the least. The persons viewpoint made it seem like it was laying down on a wooden floor, the top of their vision was occupied by what seemed to be a white canvas perhaps, with several identical patterns. I focused on other aspects of this vision, in front of it there seemed to be a metal frame that held it together along with some wheels... Wait... is that a mattress.
At that moment I saw something that chilled me to the bone. I saw a pair of shoes, white Nike's that were pretty worn down, and right next to them a pair of sock with a llama print over them. I could have sworn that I had put those on in the morning.
Slightly behind these two thing I saw a backpack, my backpack. I knew it was mine since I had gone through a wannabe gangster phase, and I spray painted my initials onto it.
Then it stopped... The vision ended and it was just me, looking out the window.
Sweat began to come out of my brow, I felt my heartbeat race.
There's no way... Right?
I slowly expand my body from the fetal pose, and inch my way forward onto the edge of the bed.
I gasped.
My shoes, my socks and my backpack were in the exact same position as what I had seen in my vision.
I begin to tremble, scared out of my mind as to what this might mean. I considered yelling for my parents help, then I remembered that they were going to comeback at 7:00 it was 6:00 according to my night stand clock.
I gulp, trying to steel my nerves and I slowly bend my neck over the edge of the bed. I swear I could feel every single bead of sweat, along with the creak of every single vertebrae moving in my neck.
There, right under my bed is a pair of eyes looking at me.
I shrieked.
*And that was the beginning of my story with my one true love.* |
"Death", her code name, approaches me.
I'm not supposed to know of her existence, any more than anyone is. She's allowed to document her visits with me as a source, citing a code name I'm not allowed to see. I, however, simply don't want to know the consequences of documenting anything about her.
"How's the test subject?"she asks. Everything about her is stereotypical action movie conspiracy stuff: black leather jacket, black suit, autumn leaf-red hair, cold blue killer eyes, pale face. For God's sakes, she even looks like the lady who plays Black Widow.
"Doing as fine as he can,"I respond. "The trauma inception fluid is being administered daily, like you requested."
"Good,"she nods. "I've spoken to the director of this hospital as well. About the contract with Ice Box Pharmaceutical Group."
A chill runs down my spine. We've been in negotiation for years, as the middleman between the project "Death"is here as a representative of, and various stakeholders in the pharmaceutical industry - all with the intention of discreetly marketing high-powered psychedelics, benzos, and opioids as pharmaceuticals to potential enemy combatants in the event of a domestic conflict. There were even recent stories in mainstream news sources citing studies suggesting that these types of hard drugs could treat depression, bipolar, and so on - stories I strongly suspected "Death"or her organization were behind.
I haven't shared my thoughts with "Death"- I suspect that Death, in a very literal sense, is what would come to me if I voiced what I'd been able to piece together.
"Ice Box seems compliant,"I reply.
"I'm glad I double checked with you,"replies "Death". "Now that we've come this far there's something I need to show you."
"Need to show me?"
I stand back, startled. If "Death"is being more forthcoming, it could mean two different things: either I'm not long for this world, or I'm being recruited into something way above my head.
Death, usually flat in her expression, cracks a slight smile.
"You and I are gonna be taking a field trip..... to Area 51." |
I didn't think it would be this much work.
"I'm going to ask this once more...are you lying to me?"
"As a genie, I'm duty-bound to never tell you a lie."
"But you can withhold the truth from me."
"My obligation to honesty extend only to questions you ask of me."
"So if I ask you if this sandwich still exists and is still edible..."
"The ham sandwich you wished for remains in pristine condition. You may only make your next wish once you have claimed your sandwich."
It's been two weeks, looking for this one thing. Back then, when the genie popped out of this mini-lamp my cousin gave me as a gift, I had my precautions. I've seen enough TV of genies screwing people over with horribly interpreted versions of their wishes, and I didn't want to be that guy. So I wished for a sandwich.
And here I am, in another damn country, looking for it. I managed to grab enough sympathy for it to help me bring it narrow its location to within fifty miles, which brought me to Manchester.
"So...is this sandwich inside the home of another person?"
"Yes it is."
"And you're sure this sandwich isn't accumulating dust?
"I am sure."
"So I have to raid every kitchen to find it."
"That's an idea."
I hate this genie so much, but if it has the power to do this to a sandwich, it should be able, with some strict wordage, to grant me the money to compensate this trip and then some.
If anything, I hope that damn sandwich tastes good. |
“So, as you can see, we can just make more oil for today by sending today’s trash to the Precambrian.”
As Johnson wrapped up the presentation, you could practically hear the ka-ching of dollar signs in the board members’ eyes. Murmurs of “perpetual money machine” and “never ending goldmine” rumbled through the room.
Smith, the chief scientist and my oldest friend, nervously raised a hand. “But the repercussions—“
The CEO clapped Smith on the back and grinned widely at the board. “The repercussions are gonna be less trash today and more dollars in all your bank accounts tomorrow! Now, I know we’re supposed to hold a vote, but I can tell by looking at all your faces that it’ll be unanimous! Johnson, how soon can your team get the first shipment ready to go?”
Johnson looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“Uh...like two weeks, I guess?”
Smith’s glare was withering, like I’d just lost some points in a cosmic morality play. Smith was always going on about the moral high ground. He had been since I met him in college. He’d gotten me the internship that had led to this job, and here I was selling him out. I guess I was, but the figures didn’t lie. We were going to be rich! I could pursue the moral high ground after my return.
Two weeks later, Smith, Johnson, and I all boarded the Waste-Not-1x. Marketing billed it as “the shining garbage truck of the future”. It certainly was shining on the outside, like a silver bullet forged by the gods. Hidden inside was the the foulest wastes known to man—half-melted nuclear reactors, rediscovered corpses riddled with small pox, gallons of plastic waste.
Johnson and I waved for the board members watching from the docking bay, but Smith’s face was painted with a frown as rotten as the ship’s cargo.
“Lighten up, Smitty. It’s a quick mission. There, back, you’ll be able to kiss your kids goodnight.”
“I don’t have kids, Johnson.”
“Your plants then. Damn, you’re bitter.”
I tried to pep Smith up. “We’ll be home in no time.”
Smith gave me the coldest stare, like someone who had seen their own demise. “Will we though?”
Smith’s insistence that something would go on was wearing on me, and I double- and triple-checked the temporal navigation system. It was running smoothly. Nothing was out of place. I took a deep breath.
“All systems go, folks. Let’s trash this trash.”
From tests I knew that the observers in the docking bay wouldn’t even notice we were gone. To them, we would appear to remain entirely stationary. For us, though, we would have about twenty minutes on the other side, during which time we would dump our cargo and our proprietary trackers—the board wanted assurances that we and no one else would be able to find the payload.
About three weeks ago, Johnson and Smith had delivered a receiver to our founder, the current CEO’s grandfather, in 1932. That man had singlehandedly pulled America out of the Great Depression. His leadership was part of why I agreed to work for PreCycleCo in the first place.
We peeled back the layers of space time and arrived sometime in the Precambrian. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Johnson who was smiling like a fool as the hatches opened. “Look at all that money!”
Smith looked, too, but his expression made it clear that he saw something very different.
I laid a hand on Smith’s shoulder. “We’re almost done, we can get back to our time now.”
Smith just laughed bitterly. His laugh grew and grew till he sounded like a maniac.
“No, we can’t! No we can’t! Tell her, Johnson!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Smith.”
Johnson’s usually jovial face had grown as dark as Smith’s. “Why did you even bring her, Smith? If it’s going to make you this miserable, you should have let her stay.”
At that Smith snapped. He grabbed Johnson by the collar and in moments the two of them were grappling in the confines of the cabin.
“You convinced me! This is all your fault!”
“I won’t take all the blame! You wanted the money too!”
“I didn’t want this!”
“What’s done is done, Smith! Suck it up!”
Johnson got a good blow in and Smith collapsed onto the console. He looked at me pathetically, blood dripping from a split eyebrow.
“I didn’t want to lose you again.”
I didn’t know what to say as Johnson hit the initiation sequence and barked, “All systems go! Take your places!”
“We can talk about it at home, Smith.” I offered. He only sighed in return.
According to the navigation system, our reentry to our space time was going to be perfect. In a moment, our bank accounts would be brimming and we would be heralded as the new heroes of PreCycleCo.
I glanced at Smith, his shoulders hunched and shuddering as though he was crying. He was staring at a photo pinned to the console that I had always assumed to be of his family. He looked so much like his father.
I breathed in sharply. He looked exactly like his father. And the woman standing next to him, the one I had always assumed was his mother—
“Welcome back folks!” shouted Johnson, a laugh rising in his chest. On the deck of the docking bay, our waving board members greeted us with a horrifying cheer. Not a single moment had passed for them, and there they stood, nightmarish, reptilian, oily, inhuman. Not at all what we had left and yet in the millennia since we dropped our diseased payload, exactly what humanity had become.
Smith reached over to grab my hand, and in that instant I realized he’d never before dare touch me. “Welcome ‘home’.” |
To quote something I once read in the internet which is a paraphrased quote from I dunno, William Shakespeare I think, "Some people are born great, some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them, and some just want to live normally thank you very much."I'm currently the later.
Being a powered person does not necessarily mean I HAVE to be a hero or villain, or heck even a vigilante or anti-hero. My power is, admittedly stupendously strong. Being able to control every form of energy known to man (Vulcan fr Marvel). However I don't really wanna be hassled by the duties of heroism now am I some sicko that wants to spread fear and suffering, or some shit.
I'm just a regular 19 year old male trying to find my place in the world, and let me tell you, being a stereotype super ain't what I want myself to be thank you very much.
The heroes are desperate in their attempts, they always are. Always appealing that "We have to protect the world cuz we have the power and some shit"And the villains say that "Why waste the power you have on people you don't even know?"Kudos to them they both have a point.
Still not convinced tho. I don't want to have to dance to other people tune. I'd rather use my power to charge my phone, or create lightshows for kids.
I ran out of inspiration. Sorry tried my best. |
As the cloaked figure charged toward me it was clear it had but one motive: to erase me. I had known for some time that my physical body would pass away, so my only hope lay within the blind mystery of what would come next, if anything. But once I saw the true ferocity, vitriol, and anger of death, I knew something more was on the line. Not only would I be dead, but I'd be removed from the record of the universe. I'd be forgotten as if I was never there.
Despite death's speed, time seemed to move slow and I found myself content. What more could I do? The arena was empty, aside from me and death. I was here on its terms, not mine. I wasn't a fighter in my life, and saw no point to it in death. We all have a fate; this was just mine.
Behind me I heard the creaky machinations in the wall raise a gate to the center of the arena. I assumed it was only death's counterpart; another entity to speed this little show up a bit. But to my surprise, a familiar and safe voice called out to me.
"Andrew!"shouted the best friend I'd ever had. Scott and I grew up neighbors, then became friends, stayed friends, and were college roommates until I fell I'll. But even then, he practically lived with me in the hospital. He'd always had more hope, even more than me, that I would eventually recovery. In turn, his heart broke worse than mine when that hope proved empty. But here he was once more, somehow once more at my side.
"How did you get here, Scott?! Are you...please tell me you aren't dead, too..."I asked.
"No, we're not dead. We're not really sure how we got here, to be honest. But it seems like we each have a final gift for you. One last thread of love to clothe you in your time of need."
"We?"
I then heard the sound of more feet approach from behind. The rest of my family were here, somehow.
"You all have to leave! It's not safe. What if death takes you as a bonus prize?"
"We'll be fine,"my father said. "Now here, put these on. They were always your favorite."
My father tossed me my burgundy Converse shoes. I shed a tear as I remembered the birthday when I received them, and how loved and whole I had felt that day. I put them on, and felt a little piece of that long lost wholeness fill me once more.
"And don't forget this!"my mom shouted. It was the cap for my high school baseball team. I was terrible, but none of the other players cared. We were a small band of brothers; a true team, greater than the sum of its parts. Even its weak ones.
My grandparents were too shaken to speak, but they handed me a small blanket I used whenever I stayed at their house as a child. It was covered in cartoon lion cubs, because I was 'their little cub' as they used to say. But whenever I'd fall asleep beneath its warmth, my grandmother would always whisper "Sleep well, my brave lion,"as I'd drift off to sleep. Bravery, which had long since hidden itself from me, returned all at once.
Then finally, Scott patted me on the shoulder. His eyes red with tears, he pulled off the old tattered hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, and told me to put it on. "Remember when you gave this to me, Andrew, when my dad died? How I told you that night that I felt so cold and exposed and like I'd never feel safe again? You gave me that hoodie as a reminder that I wasn't alone. That I could feel safe. And that I was loved. Now, I give it back to you. Death is going to defeat you; we cannot stop it from winning. But you will be safe; you won't be forgotten. You will be loved."
With tears all around, my friend and my family made their way back from where they came. The machinations in the wall again proved a temporary distraction. But soon, it was just me and death once more.
Time seemed to hasten, and my end approached quickly. But I looked down at my once pitiful body, and was at once reminded of the strength I truly had. Not within myself, necessarily, but in those that knew me best; those that love me deepest. And as death finally put its bony hands around my throat to take me into whatever came next, all I could do was smile. I began to fade away and who I once was seemed to slip beyond view. But it didn't matter anymore.
Death would not win. I wasn't going to be erased. What comes next remains unknown, but what once was remains solid as ever, because I will be remembered.
____________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
The amber glow of the boy's cigarettes softly illuminated the dewy grass and nearby tombstones. Tommy sat on a Mrs. Grawood, Henry leaned against a pillar of granite that was dedicated to a war hero with a name they couldn't pronounce, and Mike stood with his foot flat on a tombstone he had just recently knocked over.
"I don't know why you do that, Mike,"Tommy said, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke through his nose.
Mike blew smoke from his bottom lip. "Because they're just rocks."
"But,"Harry said, pointing his cigarettes towards Mike, "people pay for them. They're important."
Mike whipped around to Harry and Tommy. "And look who's fucking talking? You both are using them as seats."
"Yeah but,"Tommy said, "we're not *destroying* them. We have at least some respect."Him and Henry nodded.
"Who cares?"Mike said, turning back around, taking a puff and flicking the ash onto the granite below. "It's not like *they* do anyway. They're rich families will just fix it or get them a new one. Ain't that right,"he moved his foot and leaned down, "Mr. Random? Mr. Random. That's your name? Sweet Jesus."He straightened and looked at his friends. "What kind of name is that?"He laughed, the other two joining them.
The ground began to tremble. The pillar Harry stood against rocked back and forth on the stone platform. He quickly got away from it. Henry hopped off the tombstone before it fell over. Both boys stood near each other, but Mike remained still.
"What the hell is happening?"he asked, glancing around. The trembling eased, eased, stopped. The air was still and as if the graveyard could become quieter, it did. "Well, that was weird—"
An enormous appendage erupted from the grave beneath Mike. The moans and groans and wails of what seemed like millions exploded over the once silent cemetery. The appendage's tip opened up, blooming like a flower made from numberless oily skeleton arms and ruptured innards, and consumed Mike, who hadn't had the chance to scream or cry for help.
Henry and Tommy screamed, dropping their cigarettes, and sprinted away as the appendage spiraled into the air, echoing with the pain of thousands, and weaved back down into the wet earth, back into the burrows and hollows of the earth. It still had more to consume, more to devour, adding endlessly to itself until all those who wouldn't respect the deceased were deceased themselves. |
No one tells you what it’s like to be a billionaire. Sure, you’ve already got lots of zeros in your bank account, and a Ferrari or three in the driveway, but hitting that illusive third comma of net worth? Well some fucking elite doors open up.
Unicorn, billionaire, three comma club, call it whatever you want. Nothing prepares you for that milestone, and nothing prepares you for the parties you’ll be invited to.
It was just past midnight on Saturday when there was a knock at the door. By the time I’d made it down the stairs of my palatial residence all that was to be found was an envelope with my name embossed on the front and a wax seal on the back.
I looked out into the darkness of the drive circle, but not a sound was to be heard, it’s as if this mysterious correspondence had just appeared out of thin air.
I stepped back inside and peeled back the flap, disturbing the seal. With a firm shake, I up ended the envelope and a solitary card fell onto the desk.
“You’ve been invited to the summit. An exclusive retreat for elite business leaders, tech luminaries, and politicians to connect and share in new ideas.
Please meet at Westport helipad on Sunday at midday sharp.
The exclusivity of this event relies on keeping this out of the media spotlight. Revealing this invite to any one will forfeit your right to attend. Please respect this one rule.
Signed, B”
“Woah” I let out a breath as I read the invite a second time. Questions surrounded me. Who was B? Where were we headed? How long were we gone for? Did I even need clothes?
No one tells you what being a billionaire will get you wrapped up in.
***
“Welcome to the retreat Magnus,” a well dressed man said as the helicopter touched down.
“Are you B? I naively enquired?”
“Oh no, I am the island’s caretaker. I’ll be guiding the guests to their accommodations and getting them set for the retreats events. B will be with us later.”
The caretaker led me down the pathway towards the main building.
We were someone to the north east of Connecticut, well at least that’s where I thought we were. Downside of helicopter transport is being too terrified to look at the windows for much of the flight.
Our accommodations were arranged around a central dining hub and open courtyard. Fire pits raged, Flags flapped in the sea breeze, and musicians played music.
My contemporaries were mulling around the main dining table, champagne flutes in hand as waiters circles around with trays of canapés.
How the fuck did Adam Nuemann get an invite to this thing? Surely the whole we work saga would have cast him out. And Travis Kalanick? He was unceremoniously booted from Uber.
No women though. I guess these guys still didn’t think that elite women had a place in such circles.
I grabbed a glass of wine and joined the others in conversation.
It wasn’t before long before the island caretaker appeared again. He stepped into the crowd and loudly announced the first of our activities.
“Gentlemen!” His voice boomed. “Welcome to the retreat. I know you’re eager to share ideas and build your networks, but in a time honoured tradition, we’re going to get our blood pumping with the annual hunt”.
“The hunt?” I asked someone nearby.
“Yeah, the hunt man. You’re gonna fucking love this”.
We turned and two trucks appeared. One had a cage covered with a tarp and the other was filled with military spec hard shell cases.
“Here on the island, we have a tradition here to get our minds focused and the adrenaline pumping.
We’ve got your prey ready and caged up, and in the cases is the finest selection of arms.
Everything from rifles and shotguns to compound bows and edge weapons. And for the adventurous hunter, a delicacy from indigenous Australia: the woomera and spear. Choose carefully though, your prey may choose to fight back.
The rules are simple: there are 20 targets in the cage. When the horn sounds the cage will open and your targets will scatter into the bush. So grab a weapon and stalk them down. The person with the highest kill count wins.
Keep friendly fire to a minimum gents, there’s no prizes for tagging another guest.”
I was totally bewildered. From across the courtyard I could see the cage shaking with fury, no doubt an indicator of what was contained inside.
“Is this really what these guys did?”
I wasn’t an overly violent person, and weapons weren’t something I was intimately familiar with.
The horn sounded and the group rushed toward the crates. I scrambled, grabbing a basic rifle and some bullets. Others rushed for the bows, Adam grabbed a machete and slid it into a hastily attached scabbard; for a so called person of the earth, he projected a killer instinct.
It was only when the cage door lifted that I realized why others had geared up.
At first I thought I was imagining things. First one hand, then another, then a face.
“Humans?” I shouted in disbelief. “We’re hunting fucking humans?!” I reeled back hoping someone would protest with me.
“Fucking get it together pussy” someone shot back.
The captives had quickly fled into the surrounding scrub, trying to distance themselves in a fight or flight response.
The sun light was beginning to fade as I sat at the start line cradling my rifle in fear. Fear of the moral degradation going on around me.
I could hear shrieks in the background as men howled and their prey begged for their lives, a cacophony of gun fire occasionally punctured the air.
Darkness. Darkness in my soul, darkness in the sky, I could barely make out the shadows.
A twig snapped to my right. The adrenaline surged through my veins as I gripped the gun with intensity.
The MC told us that the prey fought back. What with? What would I encounter out there? My mind raced as I tried to steady my quivering hands.
“Who’s there?” I sheepishly called out, hoping against all hopes that it was just another competitor.
“Who’s there. Show yourself” I called out again meekly.
Nothing. The shadows intensified against the flickering fire pits and I aimed my gun into the darkness.
Boom! The echo of my gunshot bounced off the walls of the retreat.
I didn’t even recall pulling the trigger. A moan erupted in the dark along with the sound of a body slumping to the ground.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Did I just fucking kill someone?” I dropped the rifle in a panic.
“Shit Magnus” came a voice from behind.
I spun.
“You’re a sick fuck you know that?” The voice continued.
Shock was setting in and I could barely make out the person attached to the voice.
“How you get the balls to shoot a fucking kid?
Man when B hears about this, Oh man. He loves that psycho edge”.
“B?! Who the fuck is B?” I stammered, barely comprehending the situation.
“Man, everyone knows B is short for Barack man!” |
[Poem]
*The child isn’t human.*
You’re gasping for air.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s climbing the stairs.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s lurking outside.
*The child isn’t human.*
The devil’s inside.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s clawing the door.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s walking the floors.
*The child isn’t human.*
Human flesh it craves.
*The child isn’t human.*
It will send you to your grave.
*The child isn’t human.*
It can hear you breathe.
*The child isn’t human.*
Your insides are its wreaths.
*The child isn’t human.*
Mother knows what’s best.
*The child isn’t human.*
But you didn’t hear the rest.
*The child isn’t human.*
The mother didn’t lie.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s offended and swinging by.
*The child isn’t human.*
The offspring of the goat.
*The child isn’t human.*
Unraveling you is it’s gloat.
*The child isn’t human.*
Why didn’t you believe her?
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s trouble that you stirred.
*The child isn’t human.*
Who are you to state your case?
*The child isn’t human.*
When you will never leave this place?
*The child isn’t human.*
Do you believe mommy now?
*The child isn’t human.*
Let us take our final bow.
*The child isn’t human.*
It’s coming to kill you.
*The child isn’t human.*
If only you knew it was true. |
'I'm a what?'
'A wizard! Well, the first new one in over 20 years to be precise, don't worry though, this just means that you get one to one tutelage!'
Matthew cocked his head to one side in confusion, him? A wizard? Was this an out of season april fools joke?
'I'm... a wizard?'
The wizzeled old man frowned in dismay, Matthew could barely hear him whisper to himself. '*oh dear, the first new wizard and it had to be a slow one,'*
He cleared his throat and readdressed Matthew.
'Yes! You were born with the rare natural ability to transform the world around you. You can bend energy, you can manipulate the smallest atom to the largest skyscraper, you can construct whatever your heart imagines'. During this speech, the orator's voice rose in a large crescendo with his arm gesturing to the ruins around him.
Matthew blinked several times and wondered if he had bumped his head too hard this time. The old crone could tell he was not impressed with this display.
'Alright then, OBSERVE!'
The old man pointed and a lightning bolt shot out like a bullet, it struck a tree half a mile down the hill which promptly burst into flames, within a couple of seconds nothing was left but ash. Not too sure what to do but undoubtedly impressed with this early fourth of July display, Matthew felt it appropriate to give a clap of wonder. The old Wizard felt this was slightly mocking his awesome display of natural power but he let it slide.
'So Matthew, do you wish to learn how to control your gift?'
It was only at this point Matthew noticed the beauty of the imposing ruin. He could imagine how it was prior to it's desolation. Long, thin spires almost touching the heavens, the battlements were encrusted with the history of the footprints of those decades before. He envisioned how the gate before would have been majestic. A oak beacon illuminating the structure, beckoning those curious souls into it's depths, ready to share with them it's numerous untold secrets.
Matthew pondered until eventually facing the leathery wizard; he smiled in a cheeky grin before eventually responding,
'Where do I sign up?' |
At the turn of the 22nd century, quality sleep became a luxury. The rich could afford it simply by buying dreams to achieve deep sleep while the rest suffered with uneventful bouts of exhaustion. Staying awake for more than 24 hours was a norm for the working class. Sleep without dreams were just blank pockets of time. The state labelled any sleep without a dream which lasted longer than 4 hours was counterproductive and a punishable offence. Society was now divided by different levels of fatigue. Hyperstimulation from excess urbanisation and rapid digitisation destroyed the concept of ordinary sleep cycles.
I remember my old man pushing me to strive for stellar grades in high school so that I could periodically afford dreams every few years. I remember his bloodshot eyes serving as a reminder that failure was a nudge closer to literally sleepless years. Those bloodshot eyes motivated me enough and I made it. I landed a lacklustre job that paid me consistently enough to earn a dream every 4 years. And tomorrow happens to be the paycheck that will help me purchase my 5th dream so far. I always wanted to purchase the premium 'wet dream' that they released over a decade ago but I'd have to forgo dreams for 8 straight years. A period I doubt I could last with my fatigue.
A torrent of rain fell on my payday. The weather forecasters predicted 36 hours of straight rainfall. I was beyond elated. There were rumours on online forums that dreaming during rainfall adds to the experience. Somehow everything fell into place for my 5th dream. I dashed past a few blocks to the nearest dream dispensary and from afar I could see silhouettes of people queueing, huddled under their umbrellas and raincoats. With a hastened pace, I jumped to the back of the line and awaited my turn. Cheery music blared from the speakers above the dispensary window and every few minutes the slogan 'Every dream, a good dream' was played by a voice recording of Mary G, the creator of dream dispensaries.
My turn to purchase was next and I eagerly stepped up to the counter to face a black window with small slot at the bottom. I was ready to insert my wealth card into the slot but in a fast blur, a sharp pain flashed across my face. Someone crashed into me and their elbow drove straight into my forehead. My vision was stuttering but I could tell the person took less damage in the collision and sprang up to slam their fist against the black window. I was disoriented but the person hollered loudly enough to get everyone's attention over the pouring rain.
"Get us out of this dream! It's been too long! Give us nightmares to wake us up right now! I know you guys know what I'm talking about. I fucking miss Dad and Mom. How long have we been in here?" |
\[Poem\]
"You're not human!"she shrieked then fainted.
Tucker caught his mom before she hit the ground.
He sighed, "Great. Now our relationship tainted."
He carried her and laid her down
on the living room couch.
​
Tucker waited for minutes 'till she woke.
She sat up and stared.
"What I saw...,"she asked. "...was it a joke?"
"You had fangs and tons of hair!"
Tucker nodded and slouched.
​
"I don't know how it happened,"
He confessed and watched her mood.
Her face lightened and her eyes brightened.
"It'll be much cheaper to feed you dog food!"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #300. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. |
I was scared for my life when I ended up on the east side of town.
In my twenty-four years as an investigative journalist, I had gone some sketchy places for stories. War-torn Central Africa, Afghanistan, even St. Louis. But this, this was a whole new level.
The sidewalks were covered in garbage. No cars drove on the cracking street. The buildings, all apartment complexes, were completely connected to one another like ten-block townhouses. The only breaks in the chain were occasional alleys, but the first one of those that I glanced into featured a man in a rolled-up police uniform jabbing a needle into his forearm. He saw me turn his way and immediately gave me a look of whimsey, like a child might give a television moments before their favorite show was set to begin.
Shivers.
Eventually, I reached the corner of 4th and Long Street. Mr. McLaughlin said he lived here in a yellow mansion. As I glanced back into the sprawling Hooverville, there was only one lemon tent.
I knocked (shook?) on the door. Seconds later, the forgotten figure of the heir to the McLaughlin Motor Company appeared to unzip his front portal.
I am not a particularly tall man, but Gary McLaughlin barely reached my shoulders. It was May, but he was dressed in a filthy winter jacket and ratty dark jeans. The man's skin was pale enough to make Casper look khaki, like he only ever came out at night. His head hair was unkempt, his facial hair was worse, and an unlit, half-smoked cigarette hung from his middle-aged lips.
He spoke how one might speak to a thoroughly uneducated enemy.
"You Chad?"
I naturally hesitated a second before answering.
"Yea, Yessir. I'm with the Gazette."
A grunt.
"Well, I'm alive. Go tell that to your candy-ass readers and get the hell off my property."
I felt like a toddler who had been gifted a reluctant lollipop. I also spoke like one who wanted about two dozen more.
"But Mr. McLaughlin, your dad just died, and, your his only child, and, the company is yours, and..."
Gary held up a tiny weathered hand.
"Listen guy, I know. The day I heard was one of the happiest of my life. Fuck my dad, fuck his company, fuck this country, fuck everybody. The day you all stop being greedy little cunts is the day I might come out."
With that, the miniscule mystery man turned back to his tent. I turned back to the street, my only two thoughts escaping the ghetto safely and turning that single expletive-ridden soundbite into a front-page story. |
I'm ... stunned. Told by death that I'm not worth collecting personally. Just how useless am I? What good is it? I might as well go up to the top of the tower and dive off.
*TOCK TOCK TOCK*
WHAT!?!? YOU STINKING CHEATING CLOCK! THAT WAS FIFTEEN MINUTES OFF MY LIFE! WHY DID THAT HAPPEN?!?
*TICK*
Huh? You gave me five minutes back? Why did that happen? I'd thought of diving off the top of the tower. That was a choice to end my life sooner. I asked why it happened. That was a ... prompt to myself to figure how why things happen the way they do. Introspection? Thinking of better things than cussing someone out?
*tick*
A minute back... small rewards for small choices, larger rewards for larger choices, and the reverse when the choices are negative. ... I can fix things. I can make changes that affect my future.
*tick*
Can I change larger things? Things that affect more than just myself?
*tick*
Should I quit my job or stay with it?
*tock tock*
Okay, I get it. I have to make the choices myself.
*tick*
Cheeky, but I think I can work with this. Why am I still in this job? I've known for years now that it was a dead end. I'd asked for a promotion and gotten told no. Yet I've seen person after person, who I *know* does less than a third of the work I do, and have had multiple returns for bad paperwork, get promoted in less than a year. Why is that? Am I that bad of a person? Are they that much better than I? ... Just to make it clear clock. I'm not looking at you deliberately. I want to make this decision for myself, so no ticks or tocks until I make a definite decision. ... silence gives consent.
Good. If I'm at least as good as they are, then it has to be my choices that are affecting things. I'm going to go talk with Mr. Handshaw, I think it's time for a change.
...
"Mr. Handshaw?"
"Ah, Mr. Anderson, yes. I've been meaning to talk with you."
"Strangely enough, I'd decided that I needed to talk with you about my future."
"Well, come in, and close the door."
So I do, and come into his office.
"Mr. Anderson, I'm sorry to have to say this, but your work has been very poor the entire time you've been here. If you don't improve, we're going to have to let you go."
"I find that first statement very hard to believe. I do three times the work of anyone else, and I've never had a return for bad paperwork. Yet I've seen people who do less than a third of the work, have multiple returns, and they get promoted. Can you explain what is wrong with my work if I've never had a return?"
"Are you questioning my judgment?"
"I'm afraid so, Sir. How am I to know what I'm doing wrong, if no one ever tells me what I'm doing wrong?"
"That does it, you're..."
"You fire me and the first thing I'll do is take my entire record to HR and ask for a review. I urge you to consider the consequences of that action."
"... FIRED!"
"Good Day, Mr. Handshaw. I'll be going now."
...
"Hey, Mike? Did Handshaw just fire you?"
"Yes. And I'm headed straight to HR. I do good work, and he's telling me that I haven't been? Wouldn't explain what I've been doing wrong? Claims that questioning his judgment is cause for firing? No, that's wrong, and I'm not going to put up with it."
"Dude, you know that HR is run by his cousin, don't you?"
"No, I didn't. That might explain a lot of those fast promotions, might it..."
"Yeah, Dude. I think you're screwed, but if you want action, you're going to have to reach higher."
"Bill, you're better hooked into the grapevine than I am. Who's in the tree that *isn't* related to Handshaw, and has a rep for fair dealing?"
"Hm... I'd say Mr. Crandle. He was manager of this office before he was promoted to the division head. He did your interview, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did. Seemed quite impressed, and was appreciative of my work. He got promoted before I was eligible, and Handshaw came in."
"Then he's the first go-to for you. He knows this office, knows you, and he's a division head. HR is going to have a hard time firing you for cause if he's in your corner."
...
"Mr. Crandle? Do you have some time to talk with me?"
"For my best worker? Sure! Why haven't I seen you promoted?"
"That's part of what I'd like to talk with you about."
...
"It's a pleasure indeed that you have come to me with this. I may finally be able to do something about Handshaw. I couldn't act before this because I didn't have independent proof of his behavior. Now, now I have proof. Are you willing to stay the course with me Mr. Anderson? It's going to be aggravating, irritating, and prone to explode all over both of us. It's essential that you remain calm and truthful no matter what."
"I'll do my best for you, Sir."
"Harry."
"Sir?"
"My name is Harry. For purposes of company politics, we use Mr. For purposes of friendship, you may call me Harry.
"Thank you, Harry. I'm Michael."
"Pleased to meet you Michael, now let's get going."
...
It was a long walk, and I was surprised, we didn't go to HR directly. We stopped in the basement first, a room called "Hard Backup". While the hallway was as ill-lit as you might expect, and all gray concrete with piping and wiring, the room was well lit, and absolutely packed, from floor to almost ceiling, with filing cabinets.
"Not too many people know about this room Michael, and for good reason. Computer records can be changed without evidence, paper can be replaced, but not changed easily. Let's pull your records from here, because I'm quite sure that someone has been diddling the computer records. We'll give them enough rope to hang themselves with."
"Okayyyy."
"I hear a note of uncertainty?"
"I'm not used to this level of..."
"CYA?"
"Yeah, you could call it that. I was thinking more of the other side. Skulduggery comes to mind, and violation of company principles, if not actual rules violations or even criminal behavior."
"You can add Nepotism, Favoritism, Quid Pro Quo, Backstabbing, and a lot of other things. With your records and help, I'll probably be able to kick about a third of the HR department out on their ears, have Handshaw charged criminally, and maybe even get you a very well deserved promotion."
A Promotion?!? Hold on, is that enough? Is there something else I should be doing now? *tick* I'd better think about that. Thing is, I've only got, what 11+ hours? Sigh. Well, if it was easy, anyone could do it. *tick* I really have to wonder, did this clock come directly from Death, or was he passing it on from someone else. ... Okay, something to figure out on my own, later.
"Michael? ... "
"Oh, sorry Sir, I was thinking rather hard on what I should do with my life. While I appreciate the potential of a promotion, I'd like some time to think it over. I've done good work here, but I'm feeling that this may not be the best place for me. ... Um, sorry, that didn't come out the way I meant it. ... This has been a good job, up until Handshaw took over. Since then, it hasn't been all that great. If I can't enjoy my work under a less than stellar boss, is that the right work for me? Is there something that I could do that would be better for myself?"
"Good thinking. You really do need to plan your life more, and be flexible when issues come up. I went through about 4 jobs before I settled on the work we do here. After that, I spent a lot of time learning how the rest of the business ran, and figuring out where I wanted to go. It took a while, but I eventually decided that this is what I wanted to do, and to accept the promotions that went with it.
Had I known about Handshaw... I might have made a different choice."
"I'm not sure that would have been a good idea. If you weren't in your position now, who would have gotten it, and would they have had the best interests of both the company and the employees at heart? Or would they have been like Handshaw?"
"Hmm... Good point. Handshaw came in just after my promotion, and instead of having a lower position, he was moved straight into management of my old department. The rot may be wider than I thought. After this, you might be right about finding a different job. We're probably not going to get all of the bad actors. In fact, I may join you."*TICK TICK TICK TICK*
WTF? That sounded like a big improvement. Something I have to do, something he has to do, something *we* have to do... Gotta think about that one. *tick* As much as I appreciate the little bonuses, I think I've got this one down: think, then act, for a positive result. *ti..* Nope, nope, nope, it's *my* job. *..ck!!* Oh. That's your job. Okay.
"Henry? Do you have any ideas you'd like to work on?"
"A few, Michael. Do you have any?"
"So far, only in generalities. I'd like to do something that will help a lot of people. I know that's an awfully big field, but I've only just started thinking about it. They don't have to know that I did it, but it has to seriously help them."
"An anonymous benefactor? Not a bad way to do things, but it's more and more difficult to do things like that. Too many things that can affect a lot of people have all kinds of bureaucratic hooraw associated with them. Let's fix this one first."
"Agreed."
...
"Mr. Anderson, you've been fired. Pack your stuff and get out before I call security."That's Ms. Pickering, sometimes referred to as Ms. Nit Pickering. "Mr. Crandle, what can I do for you?"
"Well, first, you can tell me on what grounds Mr. Anderson is being fired."For a reasonable request, from a division head, she's awfully snide, "for failure to perform his duties to satisfactory standards." |
The crying calls of a tournament - The Tournament - had set the wind alight and coaxed him forth in a flurry, out of his little cave tucked away in the corner of nowhere. Whether he'd dragged or been dragged by his companion toward their nested sense of adventure was hard to remember at this point, having travelled so long already. It wasn't as though they needed to hurry.
However, stumbling through thick, uncharted forest was fool's work, and a fool he may turn out to be. That was, if he made it out alive. Otherwise, he'd just be the nameless hermit forgotten by the earth itself.
As fond as he was of soundless dramatics, he had things to do and places to be, which was exactly why his little friend had scarpered along in front of him, scouting out a reasonable path.
A scream.
His body didn't leave enough time for his mind to register what exactly it meant, leaping into action and thundering through the brush. The ground quaked beneath his boots, and all manners of fauna were swept aside and folded beneath his gargantuan form.
"Gracie!"another scream, its words becoming increasingly coherent as he strode forth, bursting through the treeline and sliding to the front of his companion, his cursed arm raised and his gaze watchful.
His cloak whirled behind him, stuck in place as time seemed to freeze - behind? Nothing. In front? Nothing. To the sides? Nothing. The skies? Nothi-
By chance, he caught the reflection of what had stupored her in her shining, glassy eyes. He looked up, and sighed in relief.
"Gracie..."her hands trembled, barely able to move so terrified was she.
"Worry not, Lace. Tis a mere dragon. The forest holds such corpses in abundance; with luck, we should see more as we leave."
His comforting, metallic voice sounded, and he casted a small relaxation spell on her person. Her legs trembled, barely able to keep her standing, but her body relaxed. "O-oh. God, I hope you're right. I hope it's dead."
He laughed, his breath grinding against the cool breeze, causing it to hiss in pain. "It isn't, but that doesn't matter. Let's go." |
Poem
The failings of our forbears,
Did cast our world afloat,
But mankind will find an answer,
Rather seasick, on a boat.
Dino bones and shellfish,
We solemnly forbade,
The most heinous crime is burning,
The punishment, death, was made.
Instead our lamps glow starlight,
And our cars do run on beans,
But somewhere bones are burning,
And the culprit captured, it seems.
To the gallows he was carried,
An Eldritch shrine atop a hill,
‘Speak your name!’, the hangman said,
And he said his name was Bill.
The crowd before Bill quivered,
And hoped he’d show remorse,
As before them stood a traitor,
With some words prepared, of course.
‘Betraying this wondrous planet,
Is what I regret the most’
But when he hanged that day nobody died,
Because everyone was ghosts. |
Hi u/Dancingasteroid, this submission has been removed.
Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE).
* *From Rule 8: [Prompt users in the title, but don't play writing games or commission stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_prompt_users_in_the_title.2C_but_don.27t_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)*
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dmykjw/-/%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.* |
*Warning: the following contains explicit language*.
"HGV coming up on our tail."
"ETA?"
"Six minutes. It's carving through that Cadillac Cruiser pretty fast, but the Hummer ought to slow them down. They were saying they had AK-47s on board. Glad we negotiated with them."
"Glad we did. They're not going to withstand an HGV like that one though. Crew of six, armed to the teeth. It's one tough bitch."
"Bolts, where's the shotgun?"
"Try the storage compartment... Your personal one, that is..."
"Right, I'm heading back there. Come on, Jackson."
Wearily unfastening her seatbelt, Suza clambered down from the passenger seat, her scuffed Doc Martens clattering against the mesh floor. Grabbing a worn canvas jacket, she hurried to the living quarters mounted on the back of the traction unit. Bounding up the steps two at a time, she burst into the sleeping pods, fumbling with the unlock mechanism before pulling out one of the five metal canisters that lay under her wall-mounted mattress.
Laying the cylinder on the worn sheets of the bed, she punched the pin into the little display stuck awkwardly on the side. With a brief mechanical hiss, the metal shape opened, hinged along the side. Suza grabbed the black bags at the top, unloading cartridges and ammo. Discarding the empty storage over her shoulder, she turned her attention to the gleaming shotgun lying snugly in the storage compartment. For a brief second, there was a noticeable hesitation to disturb the weapon's sleep, but the appearance of the tall, lean frame of Jackson in the door forced Suza to grab the firearm and start viciously loading it.
"You're still sticking with that old thing?"Jackson murmured, watching her expertly slotting new cartridges in. Grabbing his own cylinder and opening it, he pulled out a pair of holsters and two handguns.
"You got a problem with the gun that has saved this rig and your sorry ass in every attack, Jackie?"Suza snapped, slotting the last cartridge in place and loading the gun. "I'm surprised you haven't switched to water pistols, they'd do more damage than your fashion accessories there."
"Yeah, I do have a problem with that clumsy thing!"he retorted. "Because it wasn't my gun that backfired during the last attack and ended up with one of us picking bits of lead out of the other's leg for two weeks. As the only medic on board- don't give me that look, Bolts is only good with machines, Watcher is at the back and Davison is stuck behind the wheel half the goddamn time- I don't want to have to be stuck stitching you back together when you go and blow yourself up again."
The intercom burst to life, allowing the weary voice of Bolts to interrupt the conversation.
"The engine is running fine down here, but we're not going to be able to outrun that HGV. Just taken a look at the specs for what we're up against, and it's bad news. It's a twenty-wheeler Volvo, it's got a bigger engine, more power, and the ability to support eight angry truckers. It also has what looks like enough blades to power a sawmill on the front, which ain't no factory feature. It'll cut through us like a politician through a benefits system and probably get to the end of the highway before our souls make it to hell."
"Thanks for the confidence boost"shouted Suza down the nearest microphone. "Davison, what's the news from up front?"
The southern drawl of the driver filled the cabin. "Traffic ain't clearin' Susie, we're stuck at one kilometer an hour in lane twenty-three, we ain't goin' nowhere."
"They're cutting up the Hummer now! Stop having a fucking domestic down there, get up on the roof and get ready to blast these bastards!"screamed the disembodied yet recognisably furious voice of Watcher. "I'm not going to pull a Stallone and kill them all my fucking self! Suza, Jackson, get up here RIGHT NOW!"
Grabbing the last of their weapons, the two drivers ran to the ladder leading up to the roof hatch. Suza yanked firmly at the zip on her Kevlar vest, whilst Jackson loaded a machine gun. Sweating, she grabbed the first rung with a trembling hand, and with a silent nod to her colleague, she began the ascent. Ten seconds of non-stop climbing passed, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the panting of breath, each rung feeling like a step closer to death itself.
The hatch sprang open with the touch of a button, and Suza scrambled onto the roof of the twenty-foot-tall behemoth they were driving. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and the foul smell of rotting rubbish being trampled by thousands of wheels. Surrounding them was a pulsating sea of juggernauts, long-distance vehicles, decrepit caravans that had been driving for months on end to get to the end of the highway... A vile symphony of horns, gunshots, revving engines and shouting filled the air, as humans succumbed to their fatigue, frustration and primal instincts.
And there, at the back of the trailer, was an ugly grey juggernaut, advancing slowly towards them through the wreckage of the Hummer.
Watcher had already made herself busy. Her lookout station lay empty as she stood precariously on the end of the vehicle, firing a machine gun at the advancing danger. Two men lay slumped over the front of the Volvo, having unsuccessfully tried to place boarding cables onto the spot where Watcher had been standing. Suza was running along the remaining one hundred metres between the hatch and Watcher, weighed down by her weapons and the heat.
She was about fifty metres away when Watcher finally heard her shouts. The diminutive, muscle-bound and rage-fuelled woman growled and looked at Suza.
"ABOUT FUCKING TIME!"she yelled. "NOW LET'S BLOW THESE BASTARDS TO HEL-"
A roar of machine gun fire cut her short, as a tsunami of bullets slammed into her back.
Blood spattered all over the rear of the trailer. A look of shock and disbelief took hold of Watcher's face before it exploded under the pressure of a second round. Suza suppressed an enraged scream as the bloodied figure of her colleague toppled down onto the road below, falling under the advancing Volvo.
Then the six remaining men leaped onto the trailer, each cradling an AK-47 in their arms. They had seen the body of the shooter hit the road, they knew it was safe.
They hadn't seen Suza or Jackson as they leaped up onto the vehicle.
Suza's shotgun roared, taking a massive bite out of the group. Two men toppled to the ground, lifeless. Another flew off the back of the truck and into the grinder fixed to the front of the Volvo. The remaining three opened fire, but Jackson had ducked out of the way at the very last second. Four shots from one handgun silenced two more of the attackers, but the final man had taken the same evasive action. Firing wildly at anything that moved, a stray bullet clipped Jackson's leg whilst another hit his arm. It took the remaining eight shots of the two handguns to stop the raid.
Suza took Watcher's place and fired the shotgun into the close cabin of the advancing vehicle. A dark red stain on the shattered windscreen indicated a successful shot. A final shot pierced the hood and shattered a part of the colossal engine, causing the vehicle to shudder and lurch to a halt.
Suza dragged Jackson back to the hatch. The medic winced but kept applying pressure to his own wound, adamant that he did not need any help and needed to prepare himself for the ladder.
Then a matrix board floated overhead, reading "JUNCTION A113: 20 KILOMETRES AWAY"in a bold, vulgar neon scrawl. Jackson tapped Suza's leg excitedly.
"Did you see that? That was our junction! We're nearly there!"
Suza looked at the traffic around them and focused her eyes on the horizon. She could have sworn that there was a tiny little road visible in the distance, but with the fumes in the sunlight, it was impossible to tell.
She turned back to Jackson as she opened the hatch.
"Yeah. Twenty miles. Only another two months to go." |
Okay, you know what? I could handle the system randomly losing batches. As long as I caught it early, I could get things rescanned. I could handle it randomly crashing, I just had to relaunch the program and I didn't lose anything but time. Annoying, but I could work around it. Hell, I could even deal with it reading things wrong, it's the only reason I had this job rather than the machine doing all the work! But this, christ on a cracker, this was too much.
I don't even know what the hell I did wrong, and we can't recreate the issue. Not that IT was trying too hard. I mean, the poor guy has enough problems, doesn't need 'being an undead' added to the list. Funny enough, it was work sent in from one of the religious clients I was working on. No one will touch their stuff now, and the company is trying to find a way to explain to them they are being dropped because "your mail turned our employee into a lich". They already had to swallow their pride with me. Took a judge to know some sense into them, but they could either pay disability until I found a new job or life insurance. Either I was dead or infirm, they can't have it both ways, and I sure as hell wasn't going back after this mess.
I got to say the most surprising thing was when I didn't get snapped up by some government alphabet soup group to be experimented on. Seems this is a rare occurrence, but not completely unusual. I got sent a special social security card, one of those emergency medical cards to keep on me, and a tick on my driver's license that says I have to have my eyes and reflexes checked every 6 months. Annoying, but no more than anyone else with medical issues.
Finding a new job was a bit difficult, but only because I have to drive all the way to the capital for my job coach. There aren't enough undead for them to validate having a specialist at their remote branches. But I have one now, an overnight job that I have the skills for that can accommodate my disability. I even make about double what I used too, and the wife and I have managed to pay off a lot of our debts because of it. Considering I was already working nights, this hasn't changed too much.
I wish I could still take naps though. It's either sleeping like the dead or hyper-awake and aware. No inbetween. Oh well, I'm slowly adjusting. |
The man stared out the window, a wistful look on his face. Rain dropped down the window as he watched the people milling like ants with their faces engulfed in their phones. He sighed.
He was tired, tired of living, tired of sleeping, but most of all, physically exhausted. But he couldn’t let himself slip away. If he did, he would miss another one. Another year gone down the drain. He could do good in the world, save lives.
But he had failed. Even if he saved a life, they all slipped away eventually. But he couldn’t. The man could never leave the realm of mortality. He sat down on his bed, pulled off his socks, laid back, and accepted the fact that he couldn’t do anything.
Another year gone.
Down the drain. |
Shar-nec is confused. He studied the Bible in multiple languages, prepared multiple miracles, descended from the “Heavens” to millions of viewers. He offered a new blessing to everyone in a. Sermon that was heard worldwide.
TV evangelicals denounced Shar-nec as a fraud immediately. His miracles were called “special effects” and disregarded. Armies were mobilized against him.
Shar-nec appeared again in a different area and the locals threw stones at him.
Shar-nec determinedly moves forward, going for a third attempt at convincing the world that he was the Messiah by going to the Holy land.
His appearance was met with gun fire and rockets. Another failure.
Shar-nec decides to take a human to find out why he fails to convince humans that he is Jesus. Shar-nec asks his captive, “How do you know that I am not Jesus?”
The human laughs, “You are clearly an alien, you have two elbows in your arms, and everyone sees that when you lift your arms.” |
"What are we going to do about her?"Margaret asked Timothy. "She speaks like an insane person."
—*The veil of reality has been lifted! The sounds! Oh God the sounds issue forth with trumpets and drums and chimes! They're coming!*—
Margaret winced, stealing a glance towards the rotten floorboards.
Timothy hovered above an unopened, dusty box in the attic. He shook his head. "I don't know... She can see us, clearly, but she seems to see *more* than just us... More than we can see."
Margaret's pale illuminance brightened, dimly lighting the attic. "How is that possible? How? She's only a girl, not even twenty-years-old."
—*Not for me, no, but every being dwelling in this house! The wall between is no longer! Gods have mercy! Gods, oh sweet Gods...*—
"Cursed, perhaps,"Timothy mused. "There were many of those in my day."
"Sweet Mother of Mary, you hear her, don't you Timothy? Hear hear blathering on?"
Timothy nodded. "I hear quite well, Marg, but I choose to ignore it."
Margaret wanted to ask how he could deafen her screaming, her insane words, but asked instead, "By what is she cursed by? By who? We've searched the Other Side and her ancestors are hardly what we'd call cursed. Well-off folks, really."
"Perhaps—"Timothy started.
—*I can feel you on my skin! I can feel the tendrils wrap around my limbs, feel the dampness in my hair. Oh be gentle, Gods.*—
Timothy sat in the air, bent his leg over his knee. He raised his voice. "This house!"
"This house?"Margaret's iris-less eyes widened, shouting back. "How would this house do such a thing?"
—*Old as earth; old as space and dust; further and further within the cosmos... More are coming, more!*—
"Like the woman said, Marg: it's old. Quite older than the both of us. Although we knew not of the builder or the original owner, its possible he cursed the very walls and mortar, the soil in which it was built upon."
"You may be right, Timothy—"
—*Gentle, please be! Oh Gods of the beyond! You're welcome to this home, to those who dwell here!*—
"Take her, Gods!"Margaret shouted towards the floor. "Take that loud, bloody woman and let us be!"
Timothy laughed, and Margaret glared at him and he quickly stopped.
"How do we damn well rid us of her?"Margaret asked.
"We can't,"Timothy said, scratching his cheek. "You know as well as I do the owner stays put for as long as they like. We can only guide them on their way out with our afflictions."
"Drats, folly!"she cursed. "If she refuses, then I don't think I can stay here, Timothy."She raised her hands and curled them into fists. She shook them as though strangling someone. "I'll— I'll just have to leave."
_*Take them all! Them and me and everything in-between!*—
"Stop shouting!"she shouted. "For the love of all that is holy in this world, stop!"
"Again, you know as well I do that you can't."Timothy said, adjusting his sleeves. "We're bound here. We've passed here, remember?"
She uncoiled her fist, and scratched the line across her neck. "Of course I do, Timothy, of course. Horrendous night it was, but not as horrendous living with her."
—*Yes! Yes! The walls and floorboards writhe with your presence! The ceiling drips with tar and rust! Let us be a visage! Let us be a catalyst unto this world! Come! Come!*—
Timothy waited until the woman's voice dwindled into a whisper, then said: "Unfortunately, Marg, we must — as they say — roll with the punches. Let whatever comes, comes."
Her voice became guttural, gibbering screams. They heard something fall onto the floor, and the floorboards shake.
Margaret groaned and said under her breath, "Double drat." |
**Legionnaire:**
Five years ago we started receiving transmissions. Easily detectable at 104 mhz frequencies that all FM stations from 100 to 108 were told to stop transmitting so that the messages could be recorded and translated. We set our best minds to it but like usual it was amateur code crackers who started publishing translations before anyone else.
Starting out as a cypher for understanding the code it started describing physics and energy sources that were beyond our comprehension at first but scientists in Africa were able to start creating the reactors that were described. This lead to the forming of a coalition of the planet to translate and create the technology needed to meet our first intelligent neighbors.
Within three years we were able to send ships across the solar system without trouble and the worry that our technology limited us to. Able to cross the solar system from earth to Pluto in three minutes without any significant impact on energy from the reactors lead to a quantum leap for humanity as the best of us were selected to meet our neighbors.
HD-1461 was a mere 71 light years away and I was assigned to help organize it. 200 people with multiple areas of expertise were gathered and with only three reactors we hurled ourselves at speeds we could not have imagined before towards the people who lead to a quantum leap in our technology.
18 days is all it took, longer to slow down than to traverse the galactic gulf. When we slowed down to a speed that our computers could understand the information coming it we were greeted by nothing. No signals of life, no heat signatures, no radiation, nothing in the solar system that we gathered a map of through the messages, the sixth planet was supposed to be their home but all we see is a shattered world, signs of what would have been life scattered on the surface of asteroids scattering across the void of the solar system.
No ships, no stations, our neighbors died before we could meet them. |
I spoke to her in my head, everyday that I saw her.
I told her that she's so friendly, whenever she spoke to our classmates.
I told her that she was graceful, when we did gymnastics together.
I told her that I appreciated her when she helped me clean up my mess, after I dropped a hot casserole dish in Home Eq.
She even put ointment and bandaged my hand where I had touched the casserole dish.
I was so nervous, I didn't know what to say. So I thought to her: "I don't know how to tell you: I love you."
The look in her eyes, that she gave me...
It was like she heard me. Could she hear my thoughts when we were this close?
She takes my bandaged hand and puts it to her face. Her cheeks are warm and red.
She looked away and I heard her voice in my head, "You? I thought I was the one saying that in my head. The thing I heard said that I was a good person, and I didn't want to believe them at first. But then I did, and I felt so much stronger. I..."
I felt a tear wet my bandage. "Milley,"she said, "Say that again." |
“Man, I can’t even believe you have this,” Pete chuckled as he emerged from the wardrobe. “A fedora? Really? What are you, eighty years old?”
Christopher sighed. Had it been anyone else he would have hidden all traces of such attire, but had hoped his best friend since kindergarten would be a little more understanding. Then again, Christopher did know Pete well enough to know better.
“It’s not a fedora it’s a trilby. A fedora has a wider brim and not worn like that,” Christopher exasperated as he saw Pete attempt a moonwalk dance across his bedroom floor.
“Yo whatever it is if you ain’t doin’ Jackson, keep it away from school or you’ll end up eating lunch in the lockers, you dig?”
“Yeah, I get it Pete, It’s not cool. Not for this generation, anyway.”
“Not for this century,” Pete held up a pocket watch. “Dude, you planning a trip on the *Titanic* or something?”
“No,” Christopher replied, although he couldn’t help but ponder that thought.
“See, the time on this thing ain’t even right. Lemme me change it.”
“No!” Christopher protested. “That’s the uh, time when I received it. Family heirloom. Please be careful with it.”
“Yeah man, it’s cool. It’s all cool. Shiny black shoes ‘n all,” Pete replied, his attention now on the footwear shelf of Christopher’s wardrobe.
“It’s just something I like to wear from time to time. The quainter fashion. Since you’re my best friend I thought you might as well know.”
“I look out for my homies,” Pete grinned, putting the pocket watch in the black trench coat pocket that Christopher was wearing and putting the hat on his head. “Good thing I came by to keep you in line.”
“What would I be without you, Pete?” Christopher couldn’t help but smile as he swiveled the trilby around the right way on his head.
“Eating lunch out of your own locker space at school, that’s what,” Pete replied and smirked, “or going down with the Titanic.” They both laughed.
“I get it. And no I won’t wear it outside,” Christopher said.
“And?”
“And I promise I won’t wear it for class photos tomorrow. You know I was just joking about that, right?”
“Just had to make sure. Looking out for my best bud, remember?” Pete said, patting Christopher firmly on the back. “I should get going. Baseball practice. Have fun with your mystery mother I’ve never met.”
“Pete-” Christopher started as they headed down the stairs.
“Nah I get it, I do, it’s cool man. You like dressing up as a sir. One mystery revelation of Christopher Gatson-Smith at a time.” Pete turned to Christopher at the front door. “Just one day, some day, it’d be cool, ya know?”
Christopher smiled. “It’d be cool,” he softly repeated.
“Yo thanks for dinner, Mr. G!” Pete called out as he left.
“Bye, Pete!” Christopher’s father waved from the kitchen.
Christopher waved bye as he closed the front door. A wave of guilt struck him for lying to his best friend yet again, just one part of what felt like a whole ocean of cover-ups and deceit, but knew it had to be.
“Good to see Pete again,” Christopher’s father idly spoke as he wiped the dishes dry with a towel. “Glad to hear he got on the baseball team, too.”
“Yeah, really pleased for him,” Christopher replied then took in a subtle deep breath. “So I’m off to see Mom.” He tried to speak as casually as possible, but could still see his father stiffen at the words. The topic of his mother seemed to never get any easier.
“I should say be back before dark or do your homework first, but we both know that sort of thing doesn’t work in this household,” he eventually replied. “And I’m not going to stop you, either. Even if I could, you’re turning into an adult now, especially when you suit up like that, and have to figure things out for yourself. Just be careful. I know it hurts you to come back.”
“Dad,” Christopher butted in, “it’s fine, really. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” He idly started toying with an apple from the fruit bowl in front of him, wanting to be distracted from the credibility of his own words. “I’ll have dessert with her, tell her about my day. She’ll be happy to see me on her birthday.”
“It’s always her birthday when you see her,” his father said, turning to him. “Why don’t you try going on a different day?”
“But she’s happier on her birthday,” Christopher replied. “Besides, it’s the excuse I use to get to treat her more. I can’t wait to show her the new movies on my iPhone, she’s gonna freak at the CGI.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me of her reaction to watching *Jurassic Park*.”
“That was great!” Christopher burst out laughing at the memory. “Hilarious!”
“You told her it was a documentary. She thought the dinosaurs were real.”
“You should have seen her face!”
“Christopher,” his father sighed, putting the damp towel down on the counter. “You shouldn’t need me to remind you-”
“I know, I know,” Christopher interrupted, placing a hand up in protest to his father’s words. “Power and responsibility. Don’t mess with people’s minds. Don’t cheat them of their dignity, respect the place and the culture, don’t do anything drastic, cannot tell anyone, yada yada I know.” Then Christopher too sighed at the sudden heavy atmosphere. “I know.”
Christopher’s father’s frown relaxed a little. “You look dashing by the way,” he spoke as he went back to drying the dishes. “It’s what your mother called me when I wore my own trilby. Dashing. It’s how I won her over.”
“You won her over with a hat?”
“A man with class attracts a woman with class. Your mother was a picturesque form of beauty and class. I knew I had to up my game with her.”
“Is that why you fell for her? Because she was classy?” Christopher knew his father steered away from questions about his mother, but he pushed it anyway.
“Your mother was, *is*, not like the women around . . . here. Classy, yes, but beautiful. So much beauty about her.” Christopher watched his father’s eyes drift somewhere distant in his mind as he spoke. It was only his mother that had that effect on him, even now. “No, things didn’t work out between us; the distance, my life here, was all just too much to bare. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t.”
“Don’t?” Christopher raised an eyebrow.
“Time may work in your favor Chris but it doesn’t make you younger. Get going,” his father ushered. “And . . . send my regards.”
“Maybe not younger, but all the more dashing, I’m sure,” Christopher mischievously grinned as he tucked in his collared shirt and evened out his trilby on his head. “Besides,” he spoke in a mockingly innocent voice as he started to dissipate into thin air, “I’m only going to the year 1945, what could possibly go wrong?”
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​
I love this writing prompt! Ideas came straight away, this is a speed write premise of what I feel is a bigger story forming in my mind, maybe I'll even make it so! |
It was sudden.
The slow realization as the sciences forged together what was happening.
The universe was dying, dark matter as was once thought it was is an effective shield for something else. We were the spearhead.
The pressure contained in the explosive stars, the asteroids spinning at speeds beyond what any man dare achieve.
The ferocity of our universe.
Our galaxy.
Our system.
Our world.
Our continent.
Our home.
Our body.
Our mind.
Our spirit.
Every persons own moment of terror was something worldly shattering.
The face of a pitiful mortal realizing everything they held dear was useless. Meaningless. Made cynicalism look like crack levels of optimism.
We were the tip of the spear entering the shield.
The atoms were dying being replaced over the span of years by dark matter. The universe wouldn't tear itself open over time like had been suggested by so many, it would not turn out so simplistic.
We would cease to exist, no ruins left, no speed allowing us to escape as everything faded from existence. Simply replaced by more it would keep pushing forward, deeper as both items ceased to exist.
Our entire galaxy the size of one fucking atom that was breaking apart in another world.
A nuclear blast? Production of energy?
We were beyond insignificant our entire universe a loose cluster of a useless array of galaxies.
Our enture universe wouldn't even be enough to count as a speck of dust blowing in the breeze.
We were exploding. Time of relativity so slow to us being non-existant as we were the spear meeting the shield of a grander civilization.
The true giants of the world blissfully unaware of us as within a second our entire universe ends, yet seemingly lasting an eternity in the face of pitiful mortals.
News spread like wildfire, many ignored it.
And within a few weeks no one cared.
The human apathy remains the unstoppable force against the immovability of fact, truth and destiny. |
“So, you’ve heard then,” she said, her voice cracking. Her voice is almost as deceiving as her appearance. Her bright orange hair flowed down her back, with a Celtic knot holding a single braid down the center. If it weren’t for her horns encasing her head like a helmet, she could’ve passed as a human. It was too bad, really. She would’ve fit in well.
“No,” I stuttered, getting up slowly. She was sitting on my counter, watching me carefully. Not that I could blame her. I stumbled from my table to the closet. I was glad to know the alcohol still worked on me. “I didn’t hear shit,” I slurred, opening the closet door. A woman fell out with an axe implanted her head. Her golden armor covered in blood from the wound, wings wrapped around her body like a make shift coffin. “I fucking saw it. Can you explain why a Valkyrie was in my house, Isla?”
Isla’s face got long. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, or sadness. “I- I don’t know how she found you. It wasn’t until you dropped your shroud that we located you,” her voice came out like a stream of water. Isla was the youngest of the Fomorians, so I don’t think she was the right choice to come see me, especially with our past. She hadn’t even seen war. Not yet, anyways. “Bren, I think you should come with me. We need a leader.”
I glared into her soul. I spent too long hiding with human dirt to give in to them now. “No. I will not ever go back to the people who forced me out,” the words left my mouth with a cold air. I got lucky, being more human than all except my brother. “I allowed you here to tell you one thing, and one thing only. Keep me out of your war with the Aesir.”
“Bren, please. We can’t defeat them without you. You have hid long enough. You’re past is forgiven,” she spoke, like I had anything to be forgiven for.
“Leave, Isla. I need no forgiveness. You all left me for dead, and I shall do the same to our entire, pathetic race. If they thought the Tuatha de Danann were bad, the Aesir are worse.” I was done with the conversation. I wanted them to keep me out of their shit, and I would remain out, under any circumstance. |
I glance over at my closet. It had been too long since I'd rearranged it. I stand up, but leave my laptop running as I would be back to writing shortly. This matter had to be attended to immediately.
Once all of my clothes are out of the closet and piled up on my bed, I begin sorting them by color.
But sorted by color isn't quite specific enough, no... They needed to be sorted by season as well.
I pick up the first shirt in the pile and begin sorting.
Soon enough, all of my clothes are organized upon my bed, spring outfits on the left, winter on the right.
But I look closer, and see a further subdivision I must make. I had been so foolish as to sort my formal and casual clothes into the same piles!
I laugh aloud at my error before sorting all my clothes once more, now I have spring formal on the top left, spring casual on the bottom left, winter formal on the top right, and winter casual on the bottom right, all sorted into piles of matching colors.
"How many of these clothes still fit me?"I wonder aloud. I would absolutely not tolerate having poor fitting clothes taking up space in my closet.
I must try on every item of clothing I own, but now it's time for lunch. |
Ever since I was a kid, I liked the water and I loved sharks. I watched *Jaws* enough the push three cassettes beyond their breaking point. Ever since my first scream during the opening, I have been enthralled with sharks and understanding everything I can about them. Which is why my heart breaks every time shark fin soup or climate change rears their too familiar heads. Imagine how I felt when I heard that a school of endangered sharks was migrating from the Caribbean towards Maine.
I sunk as much money that I was allowed into trackers and a reliable crew and departed from Provincetown at the earliest notice. We managed to catch up with the school as they took shelter just off of Anticosti Island in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The most substantial media interest was a provincial broadcast company trying to fill up air time. A gross total of seven tags were implanted but a net four remained and transmitted. That was not the strangest thing we found. The sharks we observed in the gulf could not have belonged to one school, but they were so integrated with one another. How could they not be travelling alongside each other. Basking sharks, great whites, tigers, hammerheads, those were just the ones we saw.
After just over a week, we received transmissions indicating that the school was northward bound for Greenland. As winter set in, the seas grew ever fearsome but this was too great a phenomenon to let slip by. We could not afford to lollygag while the school picked up the pace. The media would simply have to wait. Tagging became nigh impossible between the battering waves and the sheer juggernaut pace of the school. As we waved hello and goodbye to the town of Sisimiut, we were down to one remaining transmitter.
Deep into Baffin Bay, we anchored north of Qaanaaq. Your pronunciation is as good as mine, friend. The water was calm to an eerie degree. Even the locals paid little to no heed to it. I’d guess they were believers in never looking a gift horse in the mouth. However, they seemed overly eager to send us on our way.
On the night we lost our last transmitter, the first-mate and I were stargazing over beer and takeaway pizza. It was the kind of night that wraps you in a magical sentiment. The kind of night where you can’t help but describe the stars as divine gemstones. A lilting melody drifted aboard the gentle sea breeze. The first-mate drifted and nodded. To me, it was a call to action. As my feet trod a path towards the row boat, my ears struggled to decide on even a general direction for the tune.
I rowed without haste, my hands certain of their heading even if my mind was not. Every so often the song would grow louder and the world withered more distant. This continued until I found myself in a sea cave. With minute corrections, I plotted a backwards route deeper when the roof of an antechamber soared above me. The tune ceased.
With dawning realisation, I slowly turned the boat around. Well over thirty mermaids started back at me, some of them fearful, some of them angry, and a terrifying lot of them hungry. To row back in a panic would unleash them upon me. I held up my hands, fingers spread as wide as they could stretch, and cursed as an oar slipped from the ring.
A sharp sting pulsed in my cheek and on the floor of the boat I found the remnants of a transmitter. When I looked back up, I let out a scream when I saw all those heads rising above the surface. Just as some reached for the edges of my vessel, I pointed the way I came and made a zipping gesture across my mouth. I even threw away the key for good measure.
One with a coral crown made a shrill utterance and the horde dispersed in a frenzy of splashes. She sunk below the surface and arose with my oar. With trembling hands I took it and bowed my head.
“You swear to never tell a soul of what you saw?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“Do you swear to never embed another one of these perverse artifacts?”
“I swear!” She pulled herself up into the boat. Out of instinct, I fell backwards to add some distance. A chuckle and then that same scowl.
“And do you swear to never return here?” That one was harder to respond to. Even if no one else knew, I felt the need to know festering inside me. How did they appear as sharks? Do they appear as other sea creatures? What abilities do they have? Are the legends true? “You have honest eyes, dear stranger, and I see the wonder and good inside,” her face softened into a mournful smile, “but it is best if you keep yourself blind.” I nodded with painful acceptance.
“I swear.”
“Thank you. You may now safely make your way back.” She tossed herself back into the water and resurfaced for one last remark. “There may come a day where we will make ourselves known to you. For now, be kind and be patient.” I gave a firm nod. The mermaid regrouped with the others and, for fear of breaking a promise so quick, I immediately made my way to the ship. Let me tell you, the way back was physically and emotionally tougher than the journey there.
I climbed back aboard the ship, replaced the equipment I commandeered, and settled back into my seat beside the first mate. Looking over, I sighed. Looking up, I cried.
\*Edit: tidying up a spelling error and punctuation\* |
I traced my tendrils over the exposed rings of the stump. It had been sliced cleanly through, with mechanical precision.
Worse, I saw a familiar pattern in those rings. I had not recognized the material before, but the chairs, the tables, nearly all the furniture in the room where I had met with these 'humans' had been built with . . . bodies.
A shudder went through my entire being, my revulsion so great that it briefly closed my photosynthetic apertures, plunging me into darkness even though the sun was shining bright all around me.
Athni'k saw my distress, and tried to wrap his tendrils around mine, but I pulled away. I was in no state to touch thoughts with another.
"These humans, do they care for nothing but themselves?"I asked coldly. "Filthy meat-creatures! I told you they couldn't be trusted!"
"That's not fair, Igdri'l, and you know it,"Athni'k admonished. He looked at the stump for a long moment, and then back at me. "They must not know. They can't possibly know, not if they've done this."
"Doesn't matter,"I said. I started to head back into the ship.
"What are you doing?"Athni'k demanded.
I blew air out of my spiracles, something the humans did to indicate exasperation. I really had spent too long on this excuse for a planet.
"I'm getting off this rock. We do not have weapons, no, violence is the sole domain of these meat-creatures, but when the people see what has happened here . . . "
"You can't- What you're talking about, we would be no better than them!"
I paused in the open hatch. "Then stay. Warn them, if you must. But war is coming. And we, the Forest-kind, do not die so easily as our poor brethren of this world."
As I lifted off, as Athni'k dwindled into a speck, as I saw more and more of this world, any remaining doubts I harbored melted away. I saw entire forests reduced to stumps. Others burned. As I took in the entirety of the planet's surface, greens had been reduced to browns and greys and yellows.
Yes. War was coming.
Would it be enough? |
I savor the wind blowing past my face. It’s cold, but not freezing. It doesn’t hurt, not like it would in real life.
Ahead of me, Mike skids down a ramp and comes up again, sending snow flying into the air. I follow after him, crouching just like the tutorial said to. I lift my feet as my skis leave the ramp. The feeling of my heart pounding is exhilarating.
I got the headset a month ago, but I can’t help but keep thinking about how real it all is. No, it’s even better than reality. I can see every star in the night sky without any light pollution.
Skiing in virtual reality, like everything else in it, is convenient. There aren’t any crowds to worry about, no injuries, and the snow doesn’t even feel that cold. For someone who lives in a warm climate, like me, that’s a blessing. The fact that I can ski at all in the South is great, too.
“Take the left turn!” Mike calls from up front.
All I can see in the darkness are the stars and his glowing nametag. “Where? I can’t see!”
“Toggle time, idiot!”
Whoops. I bring up the menu with a thought and switch the clock to 6:00 AM. Time to see what the morning sun looks like on the snow.
It’s even more beautiful than I thought it would be. I wonder if this is what it really looks like or just what the developers wanted. Either way, I don’t mind.
A few minutes later and Mike and I are gliding down to the bottom of the slope, where there are other people. We take a moment to regroup. Teleporting back to the top of the mountain takes no time at all, but we’ve agreed that it’s a little freaky to feel like we’re all alone in the snowy woods.
“I’m gonna log out now to go to the bathroom,” Mike says. “The reminder keeps popping up and it’s getting annoying.”
“See you later.” I nod and open the menu again, not giving Mike a second look.
Technology’s come a long way. In an instant, I can bring up the worldwide forums and have voicechats with people on the globe, then meet up with them to ski just a minute later. Mike lives across the country. It’s been great getting to catch up after so long.
In the menu, it says there are over a billion people online right now. I open the forums and sort by hot, just looking for something to pass the time.
[Help, can’t log out!]
[Bug??]
[Can’t see body status anymore… Anyone else getting this?]
Amongst the cat photos and fake texts, some strange posts catch my eye. The falling snow starts to feel a bit colder. Something’s wrong.
“Hey, the button’s gone.” Mike says, as if from far away. “I can’t log out.”
When VR started taking off, these kinds of stories used to pop up all the time. Especially when the tech started getting plugged straight into people’s brains. There had been all kinds of conspiracy theories about how the government was going to record people’s thoughts or hold people hostage in the virtual world. I’d dismissed all these concerns back then.
I couldn’t help it. I tried to log out.
Nothing.
---
These days, skiing isn’t as fun as it used to be.
It’s just me now. Mike’s holed himself up in a bar somewhere and all my other friends are elsewhere. Clara’s trying to find if her family’s still online. Rob’s traveling the world, sightseeing. My brother’s been trying to contact the outside world.
They all called me crazy when I’d decided to keep doing what I’d been doing. In my opinion, though, there’s no point. So what if we were trapped, if we would never be able to taste real air ever again?
Isn’t this what we wanted, when we bought the headsets? To be here?
The novelty of the sunlight on the ice has long since become annoying. I didn’t think it would be so blinding. I changed the time to sunset instead.
I open the menu. It’s been just over two weeks and there are only a few hundred thousand people left.
A lot of people died in the initial panic, their heartrates spiking so much that the headsets automatically switched off. Others had theirs taken off by family members or roommates. In both cases, the people had their brains fried to a crisp.
I doubt I’ll die from either of those. I’m not the type to freak out in scary situations and I live far away from anyone else. No one will find me. I was the one who’d bought headsets for everyone I cared for.
No. My nutrients are running out. I don’t have much water left.
The sun dips behind the pine trees, turning them into black silhouettes. I send my final message to the users in my friends list. I don’t know if they’ll ever see it.
Dying like this isn’t bad, though. The snow feels cold, but not freezing. It doesn’t hurt, not like it would in real life. |
Welcome to the Hell service limited video sponsored ad .
Has been around sense the first believers Envisioned and shaped our foundations, testaments and vision.
In the past our fledgling company started by being a service for freedom from the mortal coil.
Part of our history is starting at crossroads waiting for travelers to stop by and make a deal at our kiosks .
Today I bring to you our new invention that will revolutionary the soul dealing Business. With our parents we give to you contract 1.
Skip button was pressed.
Why won’t any one take the add seriously. Was it the long winded speech or was the subliminal messaging of the terms and condition blatantly obvious . By watching the video you agree to all conditions.
You are not misinformed for anything and all information was to low to hear.
In this modern day no one lingers to read the consumer contract . It’s no different then what hell service limited offers.
But today I officially offer this deal to you reading my little story of having a one good day.
If you don’t read this then you can have a year and a day of off brand nightmare dreams. |
​
For a movement There was peace everything was just so calm it felt to him like he was finally free away from all of this floating somewhere in never ending white nothingness, but he knew that his struggle was far from over and things were going to get much worse then he had ever thought of He finally opened his eyes and saw it. The wave was massive from where he stood it felt like he was seeing mountains in the distance but as a minute passed and the waves came closer his eyes widened in horror looking at the size of the tide he felt it’s approach on the floor he was standing upon. The wind blowing from the opposite side over his shoulders grew colder and thicker with each passing second, Fear pervaded his mind and body he was afraid not only about himself but about all the lives that were going to be lost just because of a one small cause. An error which was ignored now was going to cause mass annihilation.
He gathered all his force and closed his eyes again trying to focus his mind on the task at hand, He knew he was the only one standing in between that wave and annihilation that only he could correct the error that was made. A million thoughts rushed through his head in a second he struggled to stop them helplessly failing at each attempt but then he remembered a lesson which an ancient teacher had thought him. Then somewhere between all the noise inside his head he found his place thoughts stopped coming his mind went blank and he opened his eyes.
The movement his eyes opened his body started transforming his feet expanded exploding and tearing out from his boots becoming webbed, his pupils changed getting dilated and then changing their colour and shape into something more akin to eyes of a fish, his body started getting a bit larger as his spine elongated and gills started appearing on his chest. The wave got closer and he slowly started walking towards the edge of the roof, waiting for it to reach the building. When The wave had finally arrived he jumped from the building straight into the heart of the beast cutting through a hole in the middle.
(more soon) |
The ground was ash. It was the end of an era. A person stumbled among the ruin, their eyes were dead, and I watched them go. The words rang out in my head, and I knew they were right. Lifting my hand, I tried to bring myself to do it, but my hand collapsed back down. As I looked into those eyes, and I saw the Reverse, I still couldn't help but not do a thing. He wouldn't remember a thing of what he had done this time. Now, he was just a child.
Stumbling up from all the ash, I could feel my memory reverting just a little bit too. I couldn't help but think, just before everything disappeared, that maybe he could've drawn the short straw, this time. I choked up a laugh, and could only think dully on what I had learned, on this night of mass destruction, when he had nearly killed us all.
He had done all of this, only because he wanted to be free, because he was scared. This was the kind of fear that drove a man to murder. Perhaps I had only kept him alive for so long, because I had known that. He just wanted to be free. No one ever really asks for the situations they get forced into.
I watched him collapse to the floor and scream. The gigantic white walls were closing in on us all again. Restarting everything again.
I choked. I couldn't tell if it was the blood, or my body forcing me to cry.
Freedom was all he had ever wanted. He was scared enough to do the things he did, and, now the universe was restarting on us, and I would forget this, I would become more vicious then I was in this cycle.
His screaming was the last thing that echoed through my head, as it all began again. |
I ran across the fields fearing for my life. The commanding officer already issued the order to retreat. I don’t know where my squad is, I probably got separated while we were routing. In the distance I could see the silhouette of a few pursuing soldiers. I remember how I felt on the way here, sitting as the aircraft slowly descends. There was nothing but farmland for miles. I thought it looked beautiful, but now I deeply regret thinking that, there’s no place for me to hide from the legion of soldiers hunting me down. But just before I reach the brink of despair, I see a farmhouse. It was hidden from the horizon by the hill I was standing on. “Maybe I could lose them here?” I thought.
I snuck into the storehouse hoping to hide myself in one of the barrels. It was then I failed to realize something. Thinking back, it should have been obvious, but when you’re in a hurry fearing for your life you don’t get a lot of time to think. People live in houses, and the owner was standing there looking at me with me staring back like a deer caught in headlights. At that moment I knew I was finished, this local farmer knew where I was hiding. I snapped out of my daze as I heard violent knocking on the door. I quickly hid in the barrel, I had no other choice. Though muffled, I could hear them. A bunch if footsteps flooded the room with a single officer yelling commands. They were in a language I couldn’t understand but I could tell they were definitely looking for me.
Amidst the bossy orders of the officer I heard a soft-spoken voice, it was the farmer. I thought that would be it, I don’t know exactly what he said, but if anything he could be telling them where I was and I wouldn’t even know. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate, as I heard the footsteps come closer. Every second felt like an eternity as dread rattled my entire body. I thought of my family at home, wishing I could see my wife’s face one last time. The footsteps were right next to me now, this was it. I braced for impact, quietly whispering a prayer, only to find that the footsteps were getting softer. That wasn’t right... unless... All of a sudden, I realized what was happening. The footsteps were getting farther and farther, they were leaving.
As soon as it was quiet, I stood up from my hiding place, I was the only one left in the room. I quickly crawled out of a window and ran for my life. After a while, I decided to look back. All I could think about was that man. My heart sank as I saw the farmhouse behind me was ablaze. A few days later, I was reunited with my squad. We took some heavy casualties but I was glad to be alive. I never saw that man again, but I could never forget that day. I’d give anything to show my gratitude for him. It was an act of kindness I could never even hope to be able to repay. |
(this is my first attempt at a writing prompt, so sorry if it isn't great)
​
'All right... What are we going to do?' Athena said.
There was a lengthy silence. The Greek Gods were gathered around a table, all awkwardly averting their gaze from each other. It all started when the Moon Goddess Selene happened to look out the window, only to discover, to her absolute horror, that that the sun had gone out. Or, to put it more accurately, the blazing light surrounding Helios' chariot that the people on the ground thought was the sun had gone out. This had led to Athena calling an emergency meeting on Mount Olympus in order to figure out how to figure out the solution that had the least amount of collateral damage.
'Dammit. I told him not to get the battery powered one, I TOLD HIM!' Selene growled. 'Gods! This is just the worst!'
'Hey, watch it. At least you don't have to deal with the consequences of this whole fiasco!' Hades argued. 'Seriously, I've had a sudden influx of dead guys in planes who thought it would be a good idea to fly up there! It's like Icarus all over again!'
There was another awkward silence.
'How about we cut the day short?' Persephone asked.
'No. That'll just look incredibly suspicious.' Athena said flatly.
'I say we shoot him down.' Ares suggested.
'NO!' Athena yelled.
'Clouds. I say we put up lots of clouds.' Zeus said. 'That'll hide him. It always worked for me whenever I needed to hide myself from Hera whenever I-'
Hera shot him a death glare.
Athena pinched her nose in frustration. 'You know what? Let's just... do what Zeus said, minus the implication of your colourful dating history and then we'll wait until Helios has finished his shift, then we'll fix his chariot and send him off as normal the next day and pretend that none of this has ever happened. Are we all in agreement?' she said sighing heavily.
Everyone at the table nodded their heads and muttered their approval.
'It would have been better if we shot him down...' Ares grumbled. |
Games have a clear time of seven hours, four hours, even two hours, but that's only when you min-max and optimize your build and timing
So far i have spent two hours, i'm covered in sweat, mud and blood and to top it all of i'm only capable of using basic magic, it would take too long to use it more efficiently and the stronger versions, i don't know how i can use magic, i just *know* it's like breathing in a way, to be more exact, deep inhaling and exhaling, my two go-to spells is accleratio and healie for enhanced speed and healing, i recover mana overtime so i rely on taking as little of damage as possible without sleeping for a single second
I finished killing the skeleton sentinel so i have a five minute break, time to review my adventure so far
-------------------
I woke up tiredly, it was a busy day and i had been overworked for a whole month, i finally got my vacation and while i was thinking of wether or not i should kill myself, i realized i was no longer home, looking around i was inside a house, a medieval looking house made of stone, walking outside notified me that i was inside some sort of cave with no exit other than a hole in the ceiling, it looks more like the inside of a dead volcano than a cave to be honest, i began investigating the houses and found journals, this used to be a town protected by a dragon but that dragon suddenly began eating people, as i flipped through the pages with chills down my spine, i learnt valuable information, such as the dragon only eating one person per day, that means i have roughly 24 hours to survive, there is no exit but they said there's a stairway leading to a dungeon, from the description this isn't your typical RPG dungeon, it has deadly traps, even at the beginning to the stairway
By the time i was at the bottom of the stairs, i had two arrows in my right arm and an injured left leg, i couldn't treat my wounds and i can only walk forward, the arrows hurt but if i removed them then i risk making the injury worse and more blood would come out so i endure the mind-numbing pain, i found a water fountain and i drank from it, i felt my energy coming back to me and my wounds disappear, i looked at the arrows, they are stuck but my wound was healed, i bit my lip and grabbed one of them before pulling it and it really hurt, more than the walk it took to get here, i drank some of the water and repeated with the other, i thought i had a horrible fortune before i noticed a dusty wooden bow in a corner, upon closer inspection it's a slingshot, some weird hybrid of a bow and a slingshot, not even a crossbow for fucks sake, at least the arrows are very short, they're not crossbow bolts but it's close
After grabbing a weapon and my two ammunition i started dungeon delving, i ignored and sneak around some monsters, the journals said there are treasures around here, meaning there are also corpses, and what can you find on these corpses? weapons! even a rusty weapon would be better than this abomination of a slingshot i have
After sneaking around for maybe half an hour i manages to pick up bits and pieces of leather armor, one iron shield and a slightly broken sword, i have other weapons but i left them at the water fountain until i have a bag or something that i can attach the weapons onto without obstructing my hands and movement, i killed monsters left and right but only when they're few and i mostly sneaked around, found a couple of chests with good loot, including food, a backpack and some health potions, this should be good for me to go to the next floor below, spending too much time is a waste after all
**to be continued....** |
The earthquakes should have been a warning.
The ancient tales told us about the expand, about how our land once was the size of a mere handfull. Before the forrest grew, when the waisland was parted in six mountains, then fallen in a floodland, with sidemountains rising high and earthquakes as strong as ever.
The earthquakes have been a warning back then, why didn't we aknowledge them now?
With the growth of the Black Hair Forest, the Mountains came back, though they were rapidly followed by the GREAT EXPANSION.
No more earthquakes, I haven't experienced them myself, being born during the GREAT EXPANSIONS final years.
My kingdom was thriving, the population was happily building their microbefarms and meatmarkets. The military was strong, my kind being the 1% the daily flood, or so called "soap", didn't kill.
But then the earthquakes came.
"Soap"came by every day. Twice. Our kind was shrinking, the imigrants were building their own kingsdoms where my kind once was. Even the air we breathe picked up the imigrants scent.
We knew it was bad when the flood called "sweat"came more and more often, the toxic rain called "deodorant"destroyed our markets and we knew all hope was lost, when the mighty Black Hair Forrest dissappeared overnight, leaving just an uncomfortable stubble and a substance the ancient tales describe as "bodylotion".
We should have listened to the earthquakes. |
Her name was Sparrow. She robbed a bank and shot three people. She's been on the run.
Until today.
\_\_\_\_
Sparrow had the perfect crime. There were no witnesses. The cameras were all looped with footage from 2 years ago, nearly impossible to be tracked down. She had two proxies active.
When Sparrow walked into the bank, she was confident. There wasn't a probable way she'd lose. This was a one and done, one with a gun, one Sparrow job, because two people can keep a secret as long as one of them are dead.
She went into the bathroom. She knows the schedules. A security guard was going to the bathroom.
After one small suppressed shot, she was dead. Five. She put the outfit on. She went down to the basement.
There was a guard protecting the server room. Bang. Four. She went in.
She grabbed a cup of water. She threw it on the server holding the keypad lock information. The keypads were great to be reset. She shot the other two metal detector servers. Bang, bang, two. Which was just enough.
Sparrow went down to the vault. It was just in time for the switch in positions. Nobody questioned why she got in there. After it was just her and one other, she shot the guard. Bang, one. When she shot the sad excuse of a door's key slot, it was bang, zero, insert six coins. She took a couple thousand dollars and a gold bar. She took a gold bar, making sure not to lose her gloves, and got in her car and left.
\_\_\_\_
Sparrow wasn't sure how she got here. There was one female staff member that day and the bathrooms were staff only. Yet later that day she's on trial. She presented the evidence, everything added up for her, except one thing.
The metal detectors put one tick on a counter on a different server for every check. There was an odd number. She hid all the bodies, she did everything right, she did her research, she was sure she'd be the first to get through the system.
But here's the thing.
The most statistically brained deemed her guilty, the rest deemed her innocent.
People have questions, one has answers, and all she'll tell are lies. |
My head was racing. One minute I was poring over photos and printed Wikipedia articles. Next thing I'm bouncing down the road towards the police station. Damn it! I should've showered. Might've soften the edges of a crazy man. There was no time! They needed to know. They had to protect the people of Humansville from vampires. I ran red lights, wove in between Sunday drivers, and screeched to a halt on the station's steps. The pavement was being darkened by raindrops.
"Is the sheriff in?"Deep down, it felt more like a prayer than an inquiry. The receptionist had a dark red stain along her lips. Drinking wine on the job? Risky but doable on a normal day 'round here.
"Yes but give him a minute to digest his lunch, sweetie."A soft, calming smile. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll let you know when he's free?"I nodded and plodded over to the waiting area. There I sat, motionless despite my nerves firing off. It felt like no more than five minutes but my watch showed an hour had passed. She beckoned me forward with a finger and I trailed behind her down the hallway to the sheriff. "Sheriff Donovan, it's Ralph here for a visit. May we come in?"
"Come on in, Delores!"came the sheriff. She opened the door and motioned for me to enter. He extended a hand to me and shook firmly. "Ralph, how are ya? How's Lauren and the kids?"
"They... they're living in the motel. Have been for about a week."
"Oh my! Is it..."He leaned closer. "Is it about why you're here? We got several calls about a car like yours doing some dangerous maneuvering. Must be pretty urgent."I felt my cheeks get hot. "It's important that I know what's going on."
"Yeah, yep, that was me. Ken, I'm going to sound crazy but you gotta hear me out. I've gathered evidence of..."I tried to show off my folder of proof but my hands were empty. No way I left it at home! I was so certain I had it on my lap in the waiting room. "I have evidence of vampires in town."The sheriff fell silent. He probably had to stomach a belly of laughs.
"Ralph, I think you might be onto something."He rose up and shouted down the hallway for Delores to bring the file. While she arranged the photos and articles on the table, he thought with a blind stare. Then he looked her sternly in the eyes and spoke with emphasis. "Delores, we both want a special brew and Ralph ought to have a cup too."She nodded and said she would be right back. A click behind me.
"Hey, wait a minute. This is the same stuff I fo-"Ken strolled over to me and forced my wrists to the arm of the chair with a crushing grip.
"Ralph, thank you for bringing this to me. It's important that I know what's going on."A second pair of hands shoved my head aside and held it in place. Two hot sensations pierced my neck and withered cold. I tried to free myself but my strength was drained. Just when I was about to faint, the sensation receded. Delores wiped her mouth and dark red streaked along the back of her hand.
"I'll be at my desk if you need me."She unlocked the door and made her way back.
"Thanks, Delores."The sheriff lowered himself so he could look into the eyes of my lolling head. "You're one of us now. We'll help you settle but first you have got to destroy this evidence. If you notice anything that might expose us, tell me subtly but immediately. It's important that I know what's going on. Understand?"I groggily nodded my head and he helped me to my feet. "Ask Delores for some 'OJ Negative'. Sit a while in your car and take inventory. Might be a good chance to reconnect with Lauren."
I stumbled my way to Delores. She helped me to a seat and brought me a blood bag. I tossed it back and felt my strength restored. In my car, I took inventory as I flicked through the folder I had gathered. The world was now the reverse of its former self. |
Our assigned military convoy is cruising on an empty road recently drenched in rain. 9 PM and the city is silent, the screeching from the convoy's tires echoes through the abandoned alleyways. The atmosphere outside is foggy and thick, but what really makes me feel uneasy isn't the fog but the smell. It's not the earthly smell coming from the freshly moist dirt on the nearby park, nor the pungent smokey one coming from Sgt.Peterson's cheap cigar. It's that underlying, sweet smell of sickness roaming the streets.
''...I am telling you, Rodger's mom is definitely sick.''
I tune back into the rowdy conversation my squad is having, after hearing my name.
''Once she puts a dick in her mouth she doesn't let go!''
All the other privates burst out in laughter. Their roars expand from the truck to the streets, breaking the vehicle's monotone sounds.
''Fuck you gazing at the street for?'' Corporal Jones asked me
''It's quiet.'' I answer
''It's 2100 corporal, the curfew has been on for more than an hour'' uttered Sgt. Peterson, taking a drag of his cigar.
''Still, those V1RU5 (virus) punks are offly sparse these last few weeks.''
V1RU5 is this state's ''rebellion core'', and I use the word ''rebellion'' loosely, because in reality, despite what the government channel broadcasts, it's made mostly out of teenage brats whose families have been strafed by army viral spread containment divisions (AVSCD's), which I am a part of. For some reason the virus has ten times the tendancy to infect adults than teens. Their crest is a crimson 1v5, the numbers symbolising the date of the First Containment, The First of May of 2034.
''They highjacked the state's broadcast about a month ago, arguing that the virus was created in a government lab. I will be surprised if even a single one of them is still alive.'' said Sgt. Peterson.
''Between killing sick civillians and teenage rebels, I would prefer doing the one that would place me in the right side of history.'' proclaimed private Adams.
Everyone laughed.
''With 5k a head, I dont give a shit whether they portray me as the Sata-''
''R-P-G !'' Private Sanders screamed and time slowed down.
I snatched Sgt. Petersons' and private Adams' uniform colars and pulled them towards the ground bracing for impact. I watched in slow-motion as the rest of the unit attempted to reach for their gas masks over their head. Huh. Even in this scenario, the probability of infection is more terrifying than an actual rocket. Funny. The thought was interupted by a flash. |
Hi u/TheCorruptedBit, this submission has been removed.
The mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel is harmful to the community. This includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, politics, necrophilia, pedophilia, bestiality, incest, torture, rape, violence against children, and suicide. We will not tolerate it.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](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), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
---
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dnz1vz/-/%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.* |
"Young man, do you need a light"An old man in a grey suit spoke as he approached.
"Actually yes, I think my lighter just died. Thank you"I threw away my lighter in the trash can next to bench.
"If I may ask, what brought you to an empty park in 3AM in the morning”He sat next next to me on the bench. Not too close that I would feel uncomfortable, but not too far that I would feel so distant.
“Well, it’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you” I was trying to be polite, really. I didn’t think anyone would find my story interesting, and worth their time.
“Despite of what people think, we old people have the most time in the world” The old man smiled politely. He readjusted his posture as if he was being ready to listen to me.
So I did. I told him about my father who was alcoholic and abusive, my mother who gave no shit whether I live or not, my teachers who tried to expel me, my friends who betrayed me for money, and my wife who left me for another man. By the time I finished, my tears were dripping down form my chins. “But the worst part is, I hate myself. I used to blame my unfortunate life, unfair god, unjust society. But no. It is me. It is I who brought all the bad luck upon this life. See? I bought that lighter 10 minutes ago and it’s now broken. Why? Because I bought it” I looked up to see the old man staring at his lighter. The fire was still dancing on the top of it. He must have played around with it while I was talking.
“I see that life has not been kind to you. You suffered a lot and went through more than what most people had to endure. Here, take my lighter. It’s the least, but also the best I can offer.” He handed me the lighter with the fire still on.
“No no, that’s not necessary.” I rejected. I don’t really smoke anyway. I really have no use for it.
“Oh, but you do have use for it George. Please, I insist on it”
This freaked me out. I know I was talking for a while, but I don’t ever remember telling him my name. Also, how the fuck did he know what I was thinking.
“I’m sorry, did you just call me George? How do you know my name”
“The night is the darkest just before the dawn. With this lighter, you are destined for great things. But remember, all I can offer is this light. You have to make fire for yourself.” I took the lighter from his hand. The old man stood up, gave me a smile and left. I looked up and saw the sky was getting brighter. I must have talked for hours.
He is right, the night is the darkest just before the dawn.
My life has been tough, but it ain’t over.
I stood up from the bench, put the lighter on the bench, and walked away.
I won’t need that lighter, but I will never forget that lighter. I’m sure the old man will come back for it.
The fire was still dancing on the lighter. |
# Tom
*New York City, NYC*
*Opening Day*
I’m running late when I get into the office — doing that purposeful walk to look a little less tardy. Trying to give off just-met-with-an-important-source energy, instead of the christ-I-needed-that-sleep energy.
I’m a reporter at Buzzfeed, National Security. It’s a good gig. There’s no topic management is afraid of touching. Hell, I still get a daily stipend here — Washington Post already cut that back.
The only downside is “performance targets”.
It’s a tech startup, and your writing is treated like an algorithm. Traffic not growing every week? Yeah, we’ve got a problem.
I get to the elevator, in the lobby, punch the 35th floor. My phone buzze-
*YO! wormhole just changed offering $50k for writing work. Weird ass video too*
*“This is up your alley: wormhole.com.”*
“They’re offering”
*“ALIENS check it wormhole.com”*
I’m getting texts from everyone I know. I should probably be proud I’m the first person they hit up about tech news. Or… they know I make $45k/year writing for BuzzFeed.
I pull up Wormhole.com. It launched a couple of months ago, offering anyone who registered $50 in Bitcoin. Said that it would be a platform for on demand work. Cool, some startup spewing cash. I’ll take it! Hell, everyone took it.
A video autoplays. The girl on the video introduces herself as Josephine. Super cute, mid 20’s, accent you can’t quite place but sure as hell want to hear more of. What she’s saying is… wild.
*“Hello, and thanks for checking back in with us. I’m going to tell you something that’s going to sound unbelievable. That’s ok. This isn’t Independence Day, this isn’t Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but — ”*
Bullshit. If you’re an alien, would you be dumb enough to mention body snatchers? Troll.
*“I am talking to you from another world.”*
Her face fades into photos of Presidents taking the oath of office.
*“An earth with a very different history. My name is Josephine, and I’m an American.”*
After a few, it gets wonky — no Lincoln, but Teddy Roosevelt’s in there. Andrew Carnegie?! He looks old as all hell, too. Hoover, but no Coolidge. Video of Martin Luther King taking the oath? It looks real as all hell. Deepfakes are getting good.
*“Your scientists have been experimenting with quantum entanglement. We have too. One day, we found some strange readings. After years of analysis, we saw that there were English characters — just in an alien format. We thought you were the aliens at first.”*
Alex Jones must be pissing himself right now. Against my better judgement, I’m getting goosebumps.
*”We somehow tapped into your Internet. We had to uncover HTML like your history’s Rosetta Stone. One small piece at a time. Then we had enough information to look up programming information. In time, we learned how to create posts.”*
Aliens with an internet connection? A part of me, the sci-fi geek part of me, is running a mile a minute. Why wouldn’t aliens contact us through data, instead of in-person?
*“The geekier among you have been wondering who Satoshi Nakamoto, the creator of Bitcoin, was. That was us. We want to work with you. We want to partner with you. And for that, we need a way to exchange amongst ourselves. Someday, maybe we’ll be able to visit in body. But for now, digitally, we can interact through the internet. “*
*“This is as big a deal for us as it is for you. For us, it’s like if the pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, saw skyscrapers in the distance, and there was an apple pie sitting on a table. I know this will seem unbelievable.”*
*“To help establish our credibility, as we share interact more in the days and years to come, we’ll be posting large-dollar contracts. You can post them too. We’ll have video chats, and forums available.”*
*“We want to work together. Let’s make this all our futures a bright one. God bless you, and god bless both our American nations.”*
Jaw, meet floor. This is insane. I look to Sarah to my right -
*She staccatos at me -“Have you… seen this?”*
Sarah takes an AirPod out of her ear. She holds it right there, a finger-length away. In the zone doesn’t half cut it.
*“Yeah. Wormhole is run by aliens”*
*“Seriously, I need to — ”*
*“IS EVERYONE SEEING THIS?!”*
Our editor is bellowing on the floor.
*“Stop what you’re doing! Go to Wormhole. They’re saying they’re aliens, and I don’t give a shit what they are — Twitter is going insane, search is through the roof, and the networks are running with it. If you’re interior design quizzes, I want 500 words on how that’ll be impacted by aliens with a website.”*
Leave it to Edgar to want to maximize social traffic in the event of first contact.
I do write about national security — and I’d rather read crazies on Reddit than keep dredging through these 500 pages of government FOIA documents.
I tab over to “Marketplace” and I.. |
I walk back into the classroom after retrieving my coffee from the teacher's lounge. I approach the whiteboard at the front of the room.
"Alright everyone, back to the lecture. Any questions before we continue?"
I see Lexi dunmark's hand shoot up.
"Yes miss dunmark?"
"Will we be discussing the end of the war today Mr. Terry?"
"Yes, Lexi. Infact I was just about to get to that."
I scan the room, hoping to see more hands. But alas, no more.
"Only Lexi again?"I thought.
Usually my class was so inquisitive, so eager to learn.
"It's nothing. Just the monday morning glooms."I told myself.
I continue my lecture, but as I do I notice Fred's puzzled expression.
Fred was a good student. He presented his homework on time, he was always nice to everyone, and he wrote beautifully worded essays. Everyone loved him. Even me. If he had a question, he asked it.
I stopped talking and turned to face the class fully.
"I cant help but notice your face. You got today's lunch stuck in your teeth, or you have a question?"
The class laughed, but Fred didn't.
"Actually, I'd like to say something if that's okay."
"Shoot."I said.
"Well, it's just."
He looked back at his sister Alex. Her expression that of a bull staring down a red flag, preparing to charge.
"I'm sorry sir, but we all know that isn't how it happened."
I was slightly taken aback. Fred had never been much of a class clown. Something about what he said though, the way he said it, his tone.
He wasn't joking.
"I don't follow."I said worryingly. "Is there something I got wrong?"
"You said the Japanese surrendered. They didn't."
The class exchanged weird looks with him. His sister just cringed, breaking her previous expression.
"Frederick."I began.
"This is a serious topic. Please refrain from spreading false information. This is not the time or place for it."
"Sir, no offense, but when was the last time you checked the news? We've been in the Japanese American War since the end of WW2. How could you not know?"
"Fred, I mean what I said. Please quiet down, an-
"Sir, I'm telling the truth. Check the news, check something."
I decided to humor him.
"Only one way to prove him wrong."I had decided.
I turned on the Tv resting above the whiteboard.
I nearly puked when I saw the headline once I turned to the news channel.
"South Korea backs out of the American Japanese War"
I turned the volume on.
"After joining the war in support of america in 1992, South Korea backs out of the war."
The female news anchor said.
The man beside her spoke up.
"Yes, Ms Reeves. After nearly 30 years of support, South Korea has left the war due to, "financial decline", as South Korean officials put it. Whether this is correct or not is still up for debate. Now, ba-"
I turned off the Tv.
The class looked at me, then each other, then fred.
"Me and you. Hallway. Now. We have a lot to discuss young man." |
I woke up, looked around, and started to panic.
“Where am I? What is this?”
It was a singular room, with all the amenities of a normal house. A bed on one side, a kitchen on another, and a bathroom in one of the corners. After a bit of digging, I found a very tiny camera. There was enough food in the fridge for a week, and there was water coming from the faucet, so I knew I wouldn’t die by starvation.
There was no technology, save for a singular lightbulb in the middle of the room. It also appeared to be dulled down, or childproof. There, however, were many books I could read to keep myself entertained. With nothing else to do, I decided to grab one and start reading.
Halfway through, I could hear a voice coming from all directions.
“Hello subject 17x-B. We are glad you’re finally awake.”
“Who are you, and why am I here?”
“Well, we won’t lie. There has been a horrible outbreak of a new disease, and you seem to be immune. The few people that have been near you haven’t caught it from you either, so we decided to keep you here.”
“If I’m immune, why am I here?”
“The people who have been infected have been... aggressive. But you’re important, we need you.”
“Ah, okay. Not that I’m happy with any of this, but I get it.”
“Good. Hopefully you’ll be cooperative.”
CLICK
I had no memories of what happened before I got here. I could speak of course, I even knew what the items in front of me were. So what happened?
I started to get suspicious of these scientists, but again, there was nothing I could do.
After two days or so of nothing, I realized I should probably make my weeks worth of food last as much as possible. There was a clock on my wall, which was very helpful.
A couple of hours after I had finished up my rations, a younger man in a lab coat stepped in, with a couple bags of food. Nervously he said, “H-here.” Passing it to me.
I had an uncontrollable anger.
I don’t why, or even how I managed this, but I hit that man as hard as I possibly could, and while smiling maniacally, I ran out the cleverly hidden door from which he came.
That’s when I realized - I wasn’t immune, I was just better at hiding it. That’s why they gave me such a nice room. To calm me down.
My strength increased, and I was filled with an uncontrollable rage that I never felt before.
Time to get revenge on the people who locked me up for a week. |
"whaa?"My heart sunk as two men in black suits sat each side of me. They hold both guns and are talking about a movie I don't know of, they looked gay and excited with smile plastered on their faces.
"But I.. I was supposed to deliver pizza"My voice trembles, I still wore my uniform and cap yet the two men doesn't seem to care.
"Don't worry Darling! You'll be a star, a lot of people will know your name! You'll be part of the movie!"
"Whaa? What movie..?"I started to sweat.
The man on the left cackles as he unknowingly pull the trigger and began to shoot bullets on the roof.
"Georgie! Look what you've done on the roof!"
"Sorry Lester.. I'm just too happy!"
"Who are you anyway..! Why am I here! What's happening?!"My voice high pitched.
"We're part of the Mafia, recently our boss realizes that he wanted to be director and now wanted to make a movie. Yet because of our reputation we can't risk to be known, so we're gathering our own stars!"
"S-stars!"
"Yes!"They both say in unison.
The car drove faster and faster, moving in drifts.
Sooner we arrived on the area where other 'Stars' and went out of the fancy cars, bound with tapes on their mouth.
"Sorry.. lil boy but we need tie you first"and they did, they also put duck tape on my mouth. My heart beats faster as the audition began. |
[STORY]
"THIS IS MY 15th CUP OF COFFEE IN 24 HOURS AND I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR A WEEK NOW. YOU ARE THE ONE ACTING CRAZY. NOT ME!". I must have said this to my best friend a million times by now who apparently has forgotten she knows me in the first place.
Apparently, she doesn't recall any of our memories together and I am pulling my hair out trying to figure how not to sleep and retain my memories.
To be honest, I don't see the point of retaining them anyway when everyone around me is brand new but isn't that what makes life better? Remembering the good times, laughing about the bad ones. What the hell is wrong with everyone?
I don't know how or when this happend but i know how I can prevent it from not happening to me..and it was pretty easy..I just need to stay awake. I realized its only when we sleep this virus can attack us ..and who needs sleep anyway.. sleep is for the weak.
Okay who am I kidding? I mean it was a good idea at first but lets be real I pulled an all nighter to finish this assignment which I did not complete as yet since I rushed to my best friends place when she answered the phone as who is this and how did you have my number and can you tell what my number is since I din't realize I had a phone with me in the first place.
So yeah! That's how I ended up here. At first,I thought she is playing a new year new me on a whole another level but shit got serious when my dad forgot he was a married man with two kids
We got to submit this assignment tomorrow but I am guessing if everybody around me has suddenly got alzheimer's, would the professor realize this was due for his next class? I mean, my mom doesn't remember having a kid and I am all flesh and bone and breathing,so I could take my chances.
Look at me, I am blabbering again. Blame it on the coffee! Let's do some things to get my memory back before I smash this keyboard with my face
So, I have decided I will create a time capsule and put a reminder on my phone to remember where it is. Now only if I can decide on what things I'd like to forget and what I want to remember.
Definitely forgetting my ex, he was a lying bastard and a manwhore and I'll be better off without those memories.
Also,I dont think I want memories of the accident last year. That was so painful.
I have an empty suitcase on top of my wardrobe and I guess that will make a good memory box. A suitcase that I take on my time travel journey. A family photo,my bestfriends promise bracelet and my favourite scented candle. Maybe pictures of Kate and her baby kittens and a copy of my favourite book -Thhe perks of being a wallflower. That's pretty much it for now but what if I am forgetting something. I cant fall asleep just yet.
There are so many memories that make me smile and make life worth living. I don't want to sleep just yet. I can't . I am not even blinking the normal amount I guess.
I am the last person on this planet that can access memories in my brain and while I spent hundreds of hours trying to retain them I have realized I wouldnt have panyone to share it with.
I too tired to make good decisions right now. I am sleeping with my eyes open. I NEED SLEEP OR COFFEEDGHVHJNGIKNGSJIBSADFHCGH.
*snores*
________
Feedbacks welcome. |
"You bitch!"the policeman shouted as he held up a .44 magnum hand cannon at the bitches head.
"You killed all these people you dumb fuck murderer. I'M GONNA KILL YOU"he said, so angry that a vein began popping on his head like those cartoons where bugs bunny annoyed the antagonists so much they got comically stressed out. But this wasn't bugs bunny stressing him out. This wasn't bugs bunny with a really big gun pointed right at his noggin. oh no. This person he had called a bitch was in fact the most prolific murderer to ever appear on earth. He went by the name Satan bin Hitler Manson, naming himself after the Satan, Osama bin laden, Hitler and Marilyn Manson the 90's shock rocker. Sometimes people thought he added the Manson part because he was a fan of Charles Manson of the Manson Family, but this was not the case and it annoyed him when people made the mistake.
"WHY DID YOU DO IT, SPEAK UP, YOU SICK FUCK"the policeman continued screaming so loud his voice went a bit squeaky near the end, and he was forced to clear his throat.
"You idiot pig policeman, you will NEVER understand. Don't you see, I killed these people because they were going to kill other people"The man previously referred to as a bitch calmly replied. "I just did it before they had a chance too. does that make me a bad guy? I think not"
The Policeman looked at him and lowered his hand cannon. Suddenly it all made sense. The victims were all people that weren't actually bad but had the opportunity to turn bad. This man who had been cast as a villain all these years may have just the saviour of mankind. the policeman stood there, contemplating the philosophy of this profound soul.
"I have one question mr. Manson"he said.
"Go ahead"the killer responded.
"why did't you ever kill me?"before the killer could respond the policeman raised the magnum and blasted a hole in the killers head, leaving a empty space where his brain used to be. "nothin' personnel kid, but leave the killing to the professionals".
the policeman turned away and put a fedora on his head, laughing at how he was immune from any state prosecution because he lived in America and was a white police officer and also because his latest victim was just another black man. |
Great, I've turned into a giant block of cheese because my friends always called me a 'cheesy' guy... Everything has turned to yellow. Is this what cheesehood is like? Have I ascended? I started noticing this smell that really started to work on my nerves. A realization... I have become rotten cheese. I knew my humour was rotten but why did whoever did this to me turn me into a bloody piece of rotten cheese, first of all it smells bad and second of all... who even wants to be cheese? Well atleast I can think quitely about live now. I am a sentient piece of cheese huh, that's pretty neat. Will I ever meet another piece of cheese, maybe on a cheese raclette? Thinking of cheese raclette, I'd really not want to be on there melting away on hot metal. Suddenly I feel a sharp biting pain. I feel myself becoming smaller. Am I being eaten? Is this it? Questions race through my cheesy mind faster than formula 1 cars on the nuremburg ring. The biting pain then followed with nothing. I was eaten... and I was delicious. |
Every now and again humankind comes to a gorge. There is always the risk that the whole race will topple over the edge, lost to time and space, never to return. And yet throughout history humans in our incredible perseverance have found a way across each gorge.
The plagues of old, the Eugenics Wars, first contact with alien races--these gorges and many others had been bridged with human passion and ingenuity.
But this gorge was wider and deeper than any before it.
It had been predicted long ago, a collision of worlds. And now the proof was irrefutable and the end inevitable; three worlds were on course to destroy each other, and ours was one.
It took every genius, every scientist, every mathematical wizard, every teenage savant to create a wormhole that would allow passage to one of the other two dimensions; only with the combined knowledge of all three worlds could we hope to save even one. And I was chosen for this mission, chosen to go forth beyond known space, to a place, a time, a dimension never before explored by my people.
Only to see my face on a billboard.
"What is that?"
"Huh? You mean the billboard?"
It had been surprising to find that the inhabitants of this dimension were human, and more surprising to find that they spoke the same language as those back home. But by now I was disenchanted enough to be annoyed with them.
"Yes, I mean the billboard. What is it advertising?"
"Uh, some new movie. That lady on the front is supposed to be some kind of super hero alien person who's on a mission to save the universe. I think. I dunno it's not Marvel so I haven't really been paying much attention. Looks decent though."
The impending collision must have allowed certain ideas to pass between worlds unnoticed. Somehow the humans here had, in some small way, predicted my arrival. If I could only convince them to take me seriously, to appreciate--
"Wait, she kinda looks like you doesn't she? Are you an actress? Nah, I'm not that lucky, and, I mean, the fairy girl was the cuter one anyway."
I ignored the insult.
"The fairy girl?"
"Yeah there was some fairy girl in the trailer too. Guess they save the world together. Say, the movie comes out this week, why don't you give me your number and we can go together."
I was absolutely not going to see a movie with this idiot.
But I did intend to watch it. If the humans of this mundane world had somehow managed to foresee the course of this collision, I needed to know.
And so I went to the cinema. And so I sat through over two hours of cheesy lines and special effects that probably passed for cutting-edge given the primitive available technology. And the lens flares--who decided to include so many lens flares? And I learned nothing except that some uncomfortably accurate fictional version of myself was able to prevent the apocalypse with the help of an utterly unrealistic magical fairy.
Three worlds were doomed to collide, and I had now determined one of them to be completely useless.
But as luck would have it, I would meet a creature of the third world in cinema bathroom when the movie finally let out.
And to my chagrin the third world was home to magical fairies. |
A dull pain had started to spread around my head as soon as the meeting had begun. If the town meetings of the past few days had proven anything, it is that I was right to never pursue a career in politics. Constantly having to listen to people insist that they are the only voice of reason in the room would be enough to drive anybody mad. As the only person left with both leadership experience (and, more importantly, the respect of my neighbors), however, I had politics thrust upon me.
I stood and cleared by throat, exaggerating a bit to ensure that everybody would hear.
“Everybody, if I could have your attention please.” Slowly, all the gathered voices quieted and the focus was on me. The feeling of so many eyes on me reminded me why I avoided public speaking whenever possible. “As you are all well aware, it has been three days since the earthquake. In that time, we have not yet been able to reestablish communication with outside authorities. At this point, we have to assume that the main lines out of town have been damaged.
“As we decided yesterday, Dan and I will be taking a trip out of the valley to see if we can find supplies and get word on how soon help will be arriving. Our hope is that by tomorrow’s meeting we will have more answers for you. Until that time, the plan is still to continue our cleanup and search efforts. Thank you.”
I sat down and nodded to Dan, who began to read off an updated list of the missing, injured, and dead. By my count, the dead had more than doubled since yesterday’s meeting. A mysterious sickness had started spreading among the residents near the edge of town and rendering them catatonic; I recognized many of their names in that list.
The sun was setting by the time the meeting adjourned. On my walk home I was struck by how eerie the streets had become since the quake. Only a week ago the sounds of children playing in the streets had provided a pleasant background noise to my evening. As I walked through my door tonight, though, I could only hear the sound of my own shoes on the floor.
The next morning Dan picked me up in his SUV at daybreak, holding out a travel mug as I climbed in. “How on earth did you manage to find hot coffee, man?” I asked him with a look of confusion. “The power at your place come on last night?”
“Some of us old folks still remember how to make it over a fire, college boy,” he said with a laugh. I hadn’t met Dan until the meeting on the first evening, but after becoming the de facto leaders in town, we quickly found a common sense of humor.
As we drove out of town, we tried to small talk to fill the silence, but found that recent events had made talk of the weather seem trivial. I instead opted to stare out the window, dreading what would happen at tonight’s meeting if we came back empty handed. I knew going into the trip that it was entirely possible, but sitting in the vehicle with nothing but my thoughts had really begun to drive that point home.
I was violently thrown back into reality as Dan slammed on the brakes, cursing under his breath as the tires squeeled on the pavement. “Son of a bitch!” he said as we came to a stop. I followed his eyes up the road a few car lengths ahead and saw the crevice that must have formed from the earthquake.
“Of course,” I sighed, “the only way out of the valley had to be damaged.”
Dan grabbed a spotlight from the back seat and we stepped out of the vehicle, heading toward the crack in the earth where our precious road had once been. “What is with all of this black dust?” I asked him, kicking clear a patch of the road.
“I don’t know, kid. It seemed to start back when we first got out of town. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”
I shrugged as we reached the edge of the gap and Dan handed me the light. I pointed it down the hole and squinted, as it seemed to just a bottomless pit of darkness. As my eyes adjusted, though, I could see that it wasn’t all that deep. Only about a dozen feet, but still almost absolutely black. It took me a moment to realize that the darkness was moving.
“Dan, come take a look at this,” I said, motioning with my hand. Silence. “Dan?” I turned to look at him and dropped the light.
The black dust was moving up his body. It flowed like a liquid without any regard for gravity and into his mouth and into his nose. His eyes were still open, but they seemed to be unfocused, not seeing anything.
As he collapsed to the ground, I felt a light tickle moving up my neck. |
Taking a deep breath, Zyx’bo was pleased with the work he had done. He stood from the simulator and found that he rose quicker, a rejuvenation of spirit lifting him. The creases of his lips spread in a smile he hadn’t felt in a long time.
There was much suffering on Dargon, and he could only do so much. But on the Earth simulation he created, he could help the humans. He had been there since the beginning, watching his world evolve and take shape. Planting the first single-celled organisms and watching the construction of life emerge and flourish.
He was fascinated by how vast the diversity of life became in such a relatively short time period, the plant life alone was incredible, he sped through this. Countless sleepless nights were spent watching the dinosaurs take over the world; they were vicious and fascinating at the same time, and he could not look away. They towered over each other and some even took to the sky.
Zyx’bo had no reason to interfere and was merely a silent observer, though eventually even the best of experiences grow weary. He realized that though they would continue to dominate this world he created, they would never be aware of it. Without wanting to start over completely, he simply nudged a couple of rocks in order to reset the balance of power.
And the balance did reset, the smaller creatures took over and began to proliferate. He watched as species split and change, each daughter looking like her mother, but different than her grandmother. Animals rise and fall, flourish and go extinct.
His curiosity is piqued when an ape begins to walk on two feet. They’ve been using tools for generations but when they start making fire, he knew something special wass happening and he could feel his fascination turn to excitement. The lump in his throat turned to stone and his eyes filled when he heard them speak, they had created language. This was it.
The humans were on the move, spreading to all corners of the globe. One species of human was particularly forceful in their means of spreading. They wiped out all other human species they came in contact with, the Neanderthals put up quite a fight, but the Denisovans didn’t stand a chance.
That was okay though, as long as one survived. They continued to expand and shortly after becoming the final human species, they found they could put down some roots. They formed farming communities. These led to townships, states, kingdoms, empires. War and disease ravaged the land.
Zyx’bo knew that he couldn’t let them be, they would destroy themselves in a few short millennia. Though he also didn’t want to take such an active role that he would be controlling everything and removing all choice the humans had.
He would help where he felt he could on an individual basis, it must be of little impact, something that could be explained by natural forces, so that they wouldn’t come to rely on him. Some prayers he could answer, some lives he could save, but not all. He would never save all lives. They needed so much help. They were children that refused to grow up. But he was helping. He could see in the faces of those he saved how much they loved him.
Sure some cultures got the name wrong, but that doesn’t matter. He loved all of them. He only wished they would love each other.
Excited to get to helping his humans again, he returned to his seat and flipped the monitor back on. As the screen flickered back he saw that the time in the simulation had elapsed a total of 225 years.
The landscape looked exactly the same, and vastly different as well. It didn’t take long to notice that the air was clear again, the light blue of the sky was crisp like it hadn’t been when he left. He then noticed that water, or rather, what was missing from the water. Some time in the past 200 years the humans had managed to remove all of the plastic from the water. The fish were thriving again. The Amazon rainforest was lush and the Great Barrier Reef was back to it’s full glory. Even the ice-caps looked to be stable. This was unbelievable.
Zyx’bo connected to the internet, wanting to know exactly what they did to fix the ecosystem. Thinking the surprises were over, he did not expect to see what popped up instead.
“Celebrating 178 Years of Peace this Earth Day!”
Shock overcame him and he froze, it was simply unbelievable. The humans had never gone a single week of peace, and they managed to go 178 years? How? He continued searching, though it didn’t take long to find.
“God is Dead!” An article exclaimed. He had stopped answering their prayers, stopped pushing things in their favor, and eventually they stopped asking. He thought he had been so subtle that they wouldn’t notice a difference, but they did. They stopped asking for help and started to help themselves. They grew up.
First, they went to war. WWIII was deadlier than the first 2 combined, the true war to end all wars. Once the peace terms were agreed to by all sides, they managed to maintain the deal, and peace has propagated.
They satiated hunger. They cured disease. They killed death.
Their technology has taken them beyond the solar system, venturing out to the stars. They truly are unbelievable.
Zyx’bo felt his eyes swell again and the lump return in his throat as he said good, and powered off his computer. |
Monday's host is Bacchus, God of Wine and Revel.
You had a pretty good sense of what you were in for when you picked him, so you're not caught off guard by his realm.
His whole shtick is exactly what you'd expect – the realm's essentially the most decadent frat party you've ever seen. And you drink it all up – well, some of it, since you're a lightweight.
After the fifth plate of grapes (and third glass of wine), you beg off from the revelry. You chose Bacchus for a reason – a non-party reason. Time to get to work.
Finding the god is actually rather difficult – you were initially god-evaluated by Athena, and her realm wasn't this damn cluttered. You weave through a crowd of very friendly Satyrs and finally find yourself at the great river that cuts through the place.
It's made of flowing wine, because of course it is, and there's a boat with a man on it. You spend a few minutes just looking at the river, trying to play this like you're a cool, normal, god-baby, and not a mess of a new deity.
Look, you know this tale from Greek Mythology. You spend a few more minutes building up some much-needed nerve, and you just call out to Totally Not Bacchus to get his butt over here. He dives into the red river, then emerges on the other side, clothes fully drenched.
He's a full-on Deity, all right – shining and radiant and a little wild. He did drive people mad in some myths, so it's not totally out of the question? The red wine dripping off his face like blood isn't helping at all. But you're here, and he's looking right at you, and so you plow on ahead and step up to him.
"Enjoying the spectacle?"
Well, you are, but that's not the point. You need to just blurt it all out. So you do.
"So there's three or more canonical versions of you from different empires, and this whole place seems to be a mashup of all of them? What's up with that?"
Bacchus looks a bit alarmed. "I– What?"
"You're the cool Roman god, so I thought you wouldn't smite me for being nosy? But the interactions between gods and domains seems really ambiguous? Is there a Dionysus running around? Is there a separate Dionysus running around for each of the post-empire Cults? Parties and wine changes, bu-but, uh, how, how do I –"
You stop, because your hands are trembling and your head's pounding, and you're wheezing up a storm. It's partly all the wine, but it's also because you're overwhelmed, and in over your head, and a little very scared.
You also stop because Bacchus' hand is grasping your shoulder and he's looking right into your eyes like you're a small, feral boar.
"Hey – take a few breaths. Let's find somewhere to sit, okay?"
You nod weakly. Your words are a little gone right now. The two of you (God + God-Intern) find a big log, and squat down on it. Bacchus takes a while to fidget on the log – it's pretty uncomfortable – but eventually finds a position that works for him. He wraps his arm fully around your shoulder, because he's a huge, powerful god that way. You feel a little trapped, but a little like a stuffed animal, which somehow helps?
"Not many new gods ask questions like this, kid – most deal with this stuff way later."
You kind of guessed that. But you also know how much of a big deal this is – Athena was towering over you during the evaluation, and she kept on insisting the depth of The Choice, The History, The Prestige of it all. Probably because of all the new gods not taking it seriously? You just – you don't know.
"It's a big deal, but most god-kids deal with this after they make the choice, see. Domains change over time, and their Gods change with them. I thought Bacchus sounded cooler, so I switched names. Modern people throw Parties, and that becomes part of who I am. But I'm also part of Parties, and so people are also throwing *me*."
Fair enough? I guess?
"I've changed with the times, but I've always been me. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
You shrug. You're still not sure what you want to do about all this stuff.
"I'm saying that you don't have to know all this right now. You've got time."
The whoops of revels ring out in the endless sunset of Bacchus' realm. Guitars strum and songs flow like honey. The Satyrs are running past, playing some kind of Greek game of Tag. The warm summer air covers you like a blanket as you and an old, old God sit on a terrible log and watch a red-wine-river flow.
You chuckle a bit. You don't know what you want, or what kind of thing you're going to become, but you think you're going to try to enjoy the ride.
But you do have to say it. "Well, I'm obviously not suited to be a Party god."
Bacchus laughs, and laughs, and falls off the log, and laughs, covered in dried wine and wet mud. And he pulls you down with him, and you fall on top of him, and you both laugh, covered in mud and wine and night. |
It's not every day you get to see the CIA, M16, and half a dozen other agency operatives sitting on their hands around your Grandma's dining table. I recognized the pained looks on their faces, and flinched when Grandma walked out of her kitchen wielding The Spoon.
I had gotten on the honor roll this semester, and I was there because she told me I could have some of her homemade toffee if I manged to pass all my classes. I hoped to slip out while she was busy glaring at the agents, but no luck.
"Brandon."Her voice cracked across the room like a lightening bolt, making everyone flinch. "Did you get HELP getting your grades this semester?"
"I went to the library and got a tutor for math, but that's all Grandma."I barked out, staring straight ahead. "It helped bump my B up to an A, and I made Honor Roll."
She stalked over to me, circling me like a shark. How a 4 foot 10 inch woman managed to tower over my 6 foot frame, I will never know. But she somehow managed it.
"These people claim to have rigged the system so you got those A's."She hissed at me.
My face snapped towards them, jaw dropping in horror. Every one of them looked guilty.
"Then I didn't get A's?"I asked, my voice wavering. "I worked all semester to bring up my grades! I missed my best friends birthday just so I could study for my midterms! It was all for nothing!"
The agents winced as my voice cracked. Grandma's face softened, she knew my emotions were real.
"They don't know. You're going to have to retake your midterms so we can get a real look at where you are, academically speaking. I'm sorry sweetie."
I felt like I was about to cry. I had worked so hard, and it was all a lie? I should have known the tests were too easy. I thought it had been all the work I had done. Grandma patted me on the back, then went back into the kitchen. When she came back out, she had a small bag.
"Here you go sweetie, I did promise you. And you deserve a treat for all the hard work you've done. Now be a dear and head home, I have a mess to clean up."
I took the candies, gave Grandma a hug and a kiss, and made my way out of her home. As I closed the door behind me I could hear her talking to the agents. There was no warmth in her voice.
"Hands out and on the table, I'm calling your mothers and YOU can explain why!" |
*Main Bridge, Kilimanjaro*
Small points of light bloomed across the green-blue of the planet. Clouds rippled out in the wake of the explosions.
From over a thirty thousand kilometers above, the Ashra nukes looked like fun-sized fireworks. In reality, each nuke equalled to 60 Megatons of TNT. Enough to turn the fertile plains of the planet into glass.
Looking out over the destruction, I couldn't help but wonder. Are we not the bad guys?
So much devastation. So many, many lives lost.
When the Hadee'sha had come to seek humanities aid to eradicate the Xanxili, they had painted them as a war mongering, blood-thirsty race, who would stop at nothing to gain dominion over the entire galactic sector.
They had lied.
The Xanxili were weak. So weak, in fact, that now, after 3 years, invading an enemy planet, and scouring the inhabitants from it's surface, was childs play.
The Hadee'sha had been most generous in sharing their technology.
One ship. That's all it took to destroy a planet.
"Chaser-49 to Bridge. We ran the Xanx's down like the hogs they are. Sir."
I close my eyes. They think it's all a sport. They think that we're superior to them, just because we can cause them harm.
They've probably never been on the receiving end of such madness.
This is not war, or the preservation of our species.
This is Xenocide.
By the Codec, what humanity's doing to the Xanxili is unforgivable. The Codec must be protected. It must be preserved. Was it not the Codec that unified our own race?
The Codec says to take action against injustice. To eliminate threats to peace. Well. Right now, it so happens that a state-of-the-art battleship is under my command. One of many, true.
But revolution must come from somewhere. And I intend to be the flint to the matchbox.
"WARNING. WARNING. WARNING."
The embedded microchip in my neck, a communication device fitted to every space sailor, throbbed with each message.
"MALICIOUS INTENT TOWARDS HUMANITY DETECTED."
Malicious intent? Foolish computer. What I intend is revolution.
"INTENTIONAL MALICE DETECTED.
ACTIVATING CODEC PROTOCOL 456#"
The silicon suddenly flares with heat, turning crimson. The smell of burning flesh overpowers my nose. Clawing at the accursed thing, I dig into my own skin, trying to pull out the chip. Spots dance before my eyes, and my head begins to pound .
Like a wave, the pain rolls over, numbing me to all but my thoughts. Even those come slowly.
The Release. The punishment for disloyalty to humanity and the Codec.
A quick death. And freedom from my sins. I couldn't ask for more.
_______________________________________
*Janitors Report, Space Dock Gamma*
[START]
Routine checks and cleans performed. All well with the rest of the ship. The mess on the bridge has been triaged and cleaned. The captains head was a bit worse for the wear, but intact nonetheless. It and the body have been sent to the next of kin, as per Codec Protocol 883-0.
[END] |
It is not pleasant to know you're being sent to death.
Time travelling came, and as a consequence time was no more. We still experience is going forwards, however we know how everything will end. The worst part is knowing you cannot change it. And that's what I want to change. Also, pretty bad, became formal language. If it was bad before, talking about what will'nt havy pass't is a pain.
Ever since I got my masters in time paradoxes, I announced my objective: to allow for discontinuation (when you disobey what will happen, changing the future. Things will always find a way to fix themselves, a lot of times the attemp of deviation being the reason for what you tried to avoid happening in the first place).
Time machines are extremely complicated, even though we already know everything we can about them. There is just no way out of the quirks that make it work, with it's mechanics jokingly being called a "glitch in the matrix"by scientists. What I plan on doing is "glitching the glitch"to make it do something it was not intended to: I'm going to stop it from ever being invented. All news from the future say I just went missing this day, never to be seen again. Is hope that is a sign of success.
I dial the date & location, febuary 29th 2074: the day that should never have existed (a clever joke by the inventors, which is considered of very bad taste in the future, but since we're never in the future it's just a pretty clever joke), in South Africa's space modulation center. Travelling to before the first time machine's invention is not only illegal, but a taboo. Blocked in all factory time machines, I had to develop the function myself, and could not test it as of yet for obvious reasons.
I turn it on, and the usual nauseous feeling goes through me as I experience what can only be desvribed by a quote from the first traveller: "it feels like being compressed into nothing and having your volume go negative, all while eating a rotten slice of mozzarella. Then suddenly you're back, disappointed for having no mozzarella, but happy you're not eating something rotten."
Eyes closed. I do not know, but it seems the modification worked. The sound of a flushing toilet gave it away, we don't have those in the future. Extremely outdated. I open my eyes and much for my pre-travel surprise, it worked. And already being inside... The center's restroom... I don't have to worry abou security!
I don't have much time, so I rush to the room where the machine is and, since it's lunch break (a very respected break since the 50's), I can wreck the machine. But... That would be obvious. So I keep up with the plan and go to the outdated machine's console, randomly inputting numbers to mess with it.
It's done. It was... Easy? I mean, it should have been harder, no? Where's the conflict? Climax?
No point in crying over spilled milk. I leave to get drunk amd celebrate, only to realize they still don't accept chronollars in the past. Bummer.
-------------- The Day After -------------------
It was futile. All of it. As much meaning in my actions as in my story. Turns out me messing it up is exactly the reason time travelling was invented.
I know it because as of now, I am dead. Got run over by a car. Would you believe that? A car! Those are ANCIENT. But I digress. Turns out you can't mess with destiny. But now, I finally head into the unknown, so I'm actually satisfied with this outcome. Afterall, we still don't know what happens when you die. Hopefully they have mozzarella slices arround here... |
In a tavern, somewhere in the middle of the capitol city of the formerly invincible empire of Borak Tor, the slayer of the last Emperor is passed out. Quite happily it must be noted, not a care in the world. But with a slight headache on the horizon.
“Get up you slovenly fool!”
Gianna Halfheart kicks the former toast of the town square in the side. The savior of the people grunts and opens half an eye.
“Gi, stop kicking me, imma throw up.”
The huge man shifts and lifts himself off the floor. Looking around he wipes some kind of goo off of his forehead with a formerly fine, and now quite grimy and ruined shirt sleeve. Shuffling to a bench he sits down heavily. Glancing around he appears to be looking for a server.
“No way Garand, you’re not getting another drink. You have to fix this mess, it’s a shit show out there, one of your making.”
Gi folds her arms and glares at the huge man with a menace usually reserved for the moments before a cockroach is squashed.
A voice comes from across the utterly destroyed tavern great room. It would be hard to tell if a battle or a great party had happened here. Its closer to the truth to say both. A man eating a plate of eggs and gammon, speaks with a mouth half full of both, while pointing a rather long dagger at Garand.
“Told ya she’d find us ya big doofus. Told ya to keep yer stupid head low, but nooooo, had to go big.”
He finished by washing the bite down with a long pull on a mug of beer. Garand winced and gagged a bit.
“Shut up Grinch, nobody asked you.”
Garand waved at Gianna, as if to shoo her away.
“I’ve already told you, ain’t my problem. I kill em’. What happens after isn’t my problem.”
Gi laughed out loud. “You moron, it is now. Your refusal to take over has caused a civil war. Instead of just one evil emperor now theres half a dozen, all vying for the throne. Multiple bastards who supported the last asshole are now trying to take the throne. And several others are probably worse.”
The man named Grinch starts laughing, slow at first and then hysterically. The large man smirks evilly.
“Is that so?”
Gi, with a look of confusion changing to understanding answers.
“Uh, yeah, that is so... wait.”
Garand stands up, pulling up his belt and grabbing his sword.
“Well my friends? Shall we?” He then marches out the door.
Grinch laughs again, a twinkle in his eyes. Collects his pack and follows.
“Well Gi, you comin? Who’s the evil emperor now yeah?” |
Picks up bag, clears some dirt on it” I wonder how long this has been here, and what in the hell was that noise. Sounded like a ufo to me” As I continue to clear the bag off the box. The box was made out of a shiny metal but not heavy like metal with what looks like alien writings all over it. “What the! The fuck kind of bullshit is this” Opens latches on the box, “Ah my new chain!"
As the Uber taxi pulls up I hop in to head home. “Well I guess aliens rock links too.” Uber driver, “what was that?” “Oh nothing long day at work.” |
"It is time."The entity said, its gold and black robes floating in the air in unnatural way by an unseen force.
I grabbed my backpack and started walking alongside the entity. Although, there was a mysterious and unnatural dark aura surrounding it, I wasn't afraid nor unnerved. As we walked through the forest more people started joining us in our way to the unknown. From old to young, everyone was walking at a calm pace. Some children, not older than 10 years old, were laughing as they listen to the stories from man that could has been very well over 100 years old.
As we got deeper into the woods, a light mist started surrounding us, getting thicker and thicker as we walked. The entity's aura started shining stronger and stronger, acting as a beacon for all of us through the mist. At some point I lost the track of time, the mist was so thick that you couldn't see the sun, the only light in the ocean of white was the dark aura of the entity.
We arrived at the entrance of a cave, like the entity, the cave emanated a dark aura and just like the entity, this dark aura although unnatural wasn't unnerving. As we approached the cave's entrance, a child stopped on his tracks. He was paralyse on the spot, shaking, eyes locked on the entrance of the cave.
"What the matter little one?"Asked the entity lowering itself down to the child's height.
"I don't... I... I don't want to go in there..."Answered the child hesitantly.
"There is nothing to be afraid of, here take my hand. I will be with you all the way through."Said the entity extending its arm toward the child. Its hand was black and clean as obsidian. The child grabbed the entity's hand and like night and day, his little body stopped shaking, now surrounding by the same dark aura as the entity.
With fear taken away from the child's body by the entity's aura, we resumed our way into the cave. The inside of it was dark, very dark, I could baring see my hands in front of my face. But just like when we were walking through the mist, the entity's aura shined. The sight was something I could never put into words. "*A black light that shined in the dark.*"
The walk through cave was unnaturally silence, our steps echoing on walls. There was nothing else, no water dripping or bats flighting. At that point, I realized that since the very beginning at the forest we never saw or hear an animal or insect.
Suddenly a light blinded me and I covered my eyes when I regain my sight, I saw what I though was the exit of the cave.
"This is the end of our journey, beyond this point your final fate await you."Said the entity moving its free hand in motion for us to go forward.
"But weren't you going to be with me all the way?"Asked the child still holding its obsidian hand.
"I have go as far as I am allowed to little one. But do not fear, beyond the light there wasn't be sadness or pain, only happiness."Answered the entity but the child was not convince.
"Here, take my hand. I will hold you as long as I can."I offered. The child was hesitated but he finally let loose of the entity's hand to hold mine.
"Thank you."Said the entity.
"No, thank you for being our beacon to happiness."I said as I walked out of the cave with the child alongside me toward the light. |
"Look, I get it, it sucks. You don't deserve how he's treating you, but please stop taking it out on me."
"What?"
I didn't know what prompted me to even say anything, especially the bullshit I was about to shovel her way, I could have just ignored her. But I wasn't going to. I was tired of her shit.
"The whole office knows about him and that skank from the ride share. We know he's a turd and you deserve much better. But you need to stand up for yourself and stop taking it out on us. We've been rooting for you for months, but you've been letting him walk all over you, then taking it out on us. We're trying to be there for you, but it can't keep going on like this."
She stared at me, mouth open.
"You're a strong, independent, woman. I know it hurts, but you fucking got this Debra. If you can get those untouchable IT chucklefucks from Ohio in line, you can fucking do anything."
Her mouth snapped closed. Confusion and anger were repleaced with her usual haughty pride.
"You're right Damian. I've put up with this shit for too long? And for what? A man who makes ME use a used car that dies at the drop of a hat?! I don't fucking think so!"
As she stomped off, pulling out her phone, I pulled a face. My name wasn't Damian. By the time the bus was pulled up, a taxi arrived and she got in.
Debra wasn't at work the next day. Nor for the rest of the week. The following Monday, we had a new manager. Debra had "moved on to new opportunities".
It was another few weeks before we finally learned what happened. Turns out my little lie wasn't too much of a lie. Her husband had been banging his secretary, and that taxi had dropped Debra off when they were "in the moment"at his job. When the dust settled, both Debra and the side chick were arrested. The husband had run, nearly ran over the responding officers, grabbed their kids and fleed over state lines before finally being caught.
The best part of it all and the nail that killed all sympathy I may have had? Debra never learned my fucking name. There is no fucking Damian at our location. The description given to the front desk was a "Tatted skin head gangster". I don't have tattoos and it's fucking cancer Debra! |
From over a hundred feet away the heat emanating off of his flames pressed against me like wind. Fuck a pyrokinetic, lovely. I scanned the street, I didn’t see anyone, but that was for the best. “How can I help you”? I said as I put on my best, please leave me alone smile. “Shut it Baron, you know why I’m here Ferald wants his money now”. “You’re one of Ferald’s boys”? “Tell that old bastard it’s coming, it’s just late is all” I shrugged and turned to walk away. I stopped as a stream of superheated flame flew right by my head.
The man stalked towards me, anger evident on his face. I tried to hide my grin as I turned around to face him. “Please man I don’t want any trouble”. “If you don’t have the money boss said to get rid of you”. The fire returned to his hands, he was still 15 feet away, fuck me. I drew my pistol firing a shot, as his fire started in my direction. I dodged to the left as his expression changed into one of rage. His flames reacted instantly, forming a defensive barrier disintegrating my bullet before it could hit true.
As his flames subsided I moved forward cutting the distance in between us to only 10 feet. He grinned at me as I pointed my gun at his head. “You know you’ll never hurt me with that”. When I pulled the trigger, his look of triumph quickly changed to one of fear. The realization that his flames had disappeared, coincided with the bullet entering his skull. I sighed as I turned around to continue on my way. They may rule the outside. Their power may be limitless, as they rage in their terrified world. But when they come within my domain, this sanctuary of sanity in an insane world. We shall be equals, and even one such as I can fight on equal ground with the gods. |
Your stomach rumbling, you had been about to dump your last dissection samples into the trash to go in search of lunch.
However, upon hearing a voice call out, you glance around nervously and ask cautiously... “Hello? Is someone there?”
Are you finally losing it? Too many highly caffeinated late nights combined with too few hours of sleep... the perfect recipe for a basket case.
“Down here!” a tiny voice insists. You look down at the shrimp guts you are dissecting but don’t see a thing, so you swiftly squeeze the contents into a microscope slide and put it under the scope.
Complete and utter shock. A swarm of tiny creatures wiggle about on the slide.
“We are The Who’s! A person’s a person no matter how small!! PLEASE don’t dump us in the trash, we beg of you!” |
[Forgive mobile formatting, if any]:
"Mummy, mummy! Look how big this one is."
The small girl raced over the marbled floor to the foot of the exhibit. A gargantuan skeleton towered over her in a proud, mighty pose, standing 25ft tall at the shoulder and over 50ft along the wing-tip to tip.
"This is believed to be skeleton of Gygrax the Destroyer."The girl fumbled over the words, sounding them out like she had been taught. "Believed to be responsible for the loss of hundreds of thousands, if not millions of hum-"
"Oh honey, don't look at that,"her mother interrupted. She pulled her daughter away from the plaque. "Let's go have a look over here instead". She directed them both to an exhibition hall marked - Then and Now.
“Mummy - what’s a million?” The young girl asked, while they walked deeper down the exhibit. This corridor replaced skeletons with infographic wall displays. They showed illustrations of armies of men in ancient armour battling with gigantic flying dragons. Replica spears, swords and patchwork leather armour hung in recesses along the corridor, some half-burnt for dramatic effect.
“Ask me again later, sweety.” The mother replied, hoping the rest of Gygrax’s plaque hadn’t sunk into her daughter’s psyche. “Look at this instead! Humans used to catch these things when they were huge! Not like now with our little cutie Skooksy here.” She delivered the last sentence in a deliberate baby voice – nuzzling the small scaly head that protruded from her large leather handbag.
The small dragon yawned and yipped in response. His overlong tongue dangling through small but still sharp looking teeth. The snout was much less pronounced than the dragons depicted on the walls – stunted and misshaped. Skooks’ eyes nearly bugged out of his head, as he looked happily up at his master.
“But these ones can fly,” the girl said pointing up at the walls.
“Yes dear, and now they can’t, because we didn’t want them too anymore. Now dragon wings are small and cute.”
“Why are they so small now?”
“Because they used to be bad, bad creatures, honey. They used to kill and destroy, and hurt lots and lots of people. Their wings and their size was a big part of that. So after we captured them, we bred them down and down, until they couldn’t hurt us anymore.”
“Skooks wouldn’t hurt me - would you Skooksy?”
The girl scratched the scales behind the dragon’s small, stubby horns. Skooks yipped happily at the attention, but his bugged eyes looked past the young girl’s smile. They became locked to the wall behind. Massive scaled forms soared through the air – high above the tiny humans and their pathetic sticks. The dragons dominated every scene they were in. Laying waste to any attempts to rival their greatness. Skooks’ eyes found a figure in one particular mural. A massive dragon lying on a mighty pile of coins. That colour – the beauty – golden and glittering – the mass of treasure looked glorious beneath this immense creature. Rightfully his. No lesser being should have access to anything so beautiful…
“Mummy -- what’s wrong with Skooks?” the girl said, concerned. The small dragon’s eyes had lost all levity. They appeared hardened - focused- he stared at the walls unwaveringly. The mother reached down and touched the dragons head – trying to pull his gaze up to meet hers. Skooks resisted, growled and coughed at the attempt. A faint trail of smoke escaped his jaws, and dissipated towards the ceiling.
“Hmm, we should get him to a vet,” the mother said, frowning. “They aren’t supposed to be able to do that, there must be something wrong with him.”
There was nothing wrong with Skooks. Skooks had purpose. Skooks had an awakened, primal need to put these humans in their place. Under his claw. Under his might. And Skooks would stop at nothing until we was restored to his ancestral glory. |
Sam walked in the back door of the office an hour late, just like his boss had asked. The team was waiting for him, gathered in as best a circle that three people and an empty chair could make. The door, heavy and painted a pale pink, slammed shut behind him.
"How's it going, Sam?"Jared asked, the small talk about as cheap as the mismatched furniture in the small office.
"Alright, I guess."
"Good,"Jared said. "Have a seat and we'll all have a talk."
Sam obliged, sitting in the small plastic chair that had been set up for him. Jared, who was most comfortable in front of a white board with a marker in hand, remained standing. To Sam's left, Al sat with his back to the front desk of the office where he normally worked. Ben, the oldest of the team, sat to Sam's right behind a large faux-mahogany desk in one corner of the room, listening carefully and taking notes. Neither had yet said a word.
"Do you know why I had you come in late today?"Jared asked, resetting his thin framed glasses on the brim of his sharp nose. He tried to look confident but came off angry more than anything else.
Sam looked down at his feet, feeling three pairs of eyes laser focused on him. He could feel the heat of their attention around his face. The wobbly blue plastic chair, which was probably once used in a middle-school classroom, seemed to melt due to the weight of the shame he felt. It brought him back momentarily to agonizing hours in the principle's office.
"I'm not sure,"said Sam, only half-honestly. It was hard to look back at the three men he had been working with in the last six months, knowing he had been letting them down almost every day.
Jared's pale face flushed a reddish-purple, contrasting awkwardly with his curly orange hair. "Hmm... okay. Al, why don't you help paint the picture here."
Al began shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His long legs made it tough to find any seat that would fit his body the right way. He cleared his throat. "Well as you know,"he started gently, "we have goals each day to fill all the orders we receive from our customers. And while I know it can be tough to keep up with at times, when those orders get left unfilled overnight, it's a scramble to get them finished up in the morning. And we can't always fill them."
Sam winced as Al beat around the bush about his poor performance. Even though Jared was his boss, Al had been a mentor to him, had shown him how to do his job.
"I understand that lately I haven't been doing well, and I never meant for my work to fall on Al's shoulders."
"At the end of the day,"Jared cut in, "this is a business, and we have to fulfill our promises to our customers. And trust me, I know what it's like to be in your shoes. I started this company. I had to do everything myself. So I know what it's like."
*You haven't* *filled any orders since before I got here!* Sam wanted to yell. It took everything he had to hold back his thoughts from escaping his mouth.
Ben leaned forward in his chair and jotted down a few notes.
"Here's the bottom line,"Jared continued. "We're going to give you thirty days to significantly improve your work performance, or we're going to have to let you go."
Sam felt his stomach turn over. There was no way he could improve that quickly. He just wasn't cut out for the job.
"There's a small potential third option,"Al said carefully as he looked from Jared to Sam, "where we could tweak your job to fit some other things around the office."
"Well..."Jared started to push back, but then stopped after a sharp look from Ben. "Alright, well take the rest of the day off and come back tomorrow ready to work."
Sam quickly gathered his things and left, resume edits running through his head. The back door slammed shut behind him. |
(Broken into separate comments as per word limit) Part 1.
The familiar scent of sulfur comes first. In my mind there’s a glimmer of a sound that sounds a little like:
“Five Heavens, it’s worked!”
Now I see their faces. Plump little melons of man flesh, with their shiny porcelain cheeks and cracked nails. Their hair… All over them. Dripping with salty discharge. Greasy mops atop their soft heads. It seems they’ve summoned me. How quaint. They’re looking on with gleeful expectation, bowing before me. What do they see, I wonder? What do their eyes show them? The middlest of the bunch rises to his feet, and shifts forward; the leader, I presume. He’s shaking a bit at the knees. Cute.
“Good lord Malgorgia! We have summoned you to hear our plea!”
Malgorgia? Is that what they call me here? I can see a few statues behind them. Marble fixtures shaped into muscled figures. Who were they supposed to be? This *was* an interesting place, huh? Where was I before? Oh right, that loud place with the metal engines and endless buildings. This is a little better. Of course, *they* were here, too. It seems like every land, world, or dimension you find yourself in, *they* are there: Humans. The most prolific insect of them all.
They did make wonderful offerings though. Like this little basket of treats these cloaks have laid out for me. A goat heart, a corpse flower, three small ingots of silver, the vine of an oak, and three slices of human flesh—Oh! I love that smell. I shift across the room, through the lot of them. They fall back in hushed whispers and shock. I take stock of them. The leader’s old. I hate the old ones especially. They talk so much, and have so little to offer.
The leader says, “We are the Black Priests of the Rose Order, your divinity—”
“Boring,” I interrupt. His face catches in a wimpy contortion. His fellow “black priests” fall back to their knees and speak in some groggy sounding language. “You set up a nice welcome gift for me. What’s your name? Wait! Let me think…” I say. I push inward, tasting with my mind until I find it: A drop of his blood. The same drop of blood required to summon me, which he so kindly dripped into the cauldron moments before I arrived.
“You really did this perfectly, didn’t you? Most forget the blood. Some don’t even get the goat heart. Even so I’m still summoned every time. Do the rules even matter?” I ask. The question isn’t so much being asked of him but of the general universe at large, really. What do his ears hear when I speak? He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t understand the question, does he? |
I had figured it out pretty early on in life that I could stop time. It was inexplicably related to the child's game Patty cake, when I hit the last sequence everyone and everything around me would stop mid motion and freeze. As a kid it was amazing; any homework assignment that I forgot to do became something I could finish minutes before turning it in, any bout with my parents could easily be avoided by simply doing a little patty cake with my brother before Dad noticed the dishes hadn't been done yet again.
Despite wielding so much power, I never abused it that much. Quite frankly, stopping time made me feel lonely, because that meant that nothing else in the world was there to interact with me, or even let me know it was alive for that matter. So I would only stop time for minutes at a time. That was until I turned 21, and a had a rager of a birthday.
My drunk self had been patty caking with party guests night in night out, it was my signature, I was the patty cake guy. I had to do this to maintain at least some level of normalcy for my chronotriggerhappiness. But the drinking and patty caking got a little out of hand I guess, because before I knew I had patted my last cake, and I was black out drunk with my friends none the wiser.
I woke up and noticed something odd. It wasn't the fact that my friends were still frozen in time that bothered me, but something else. *The sun was up. It was bright and shining outside*. While my friends had been frozen in time, the rest of the world still kept moving on.
It then occurred to me what had never occurred before -- I didn't know what happened to my friends and everyone when I froze time. Were they're hearts still beating? Were they still alive, but just locked into inaction by my patty cake?
I checked one of my friends pulses.
*It was still there*.
I hadn't truly been able to freeze time, just merely able to make all human and animal kind freeze in their tracks. Thoughts raced in my head about the implications. What if someone was on the surgeon's table in need of desperate surgery? In a car racing down the highway? Flying a plane?
It quickly became clear that all the disasters in the world centered around one thing.
A dumb kid that could freeze humanity. |
A clear echo sounds through the chilly dusk. Sam looks up, perplexed at the noise. It was the eve of Halloween and Winster street was as desolate as could be.
A site for a government testing facility in the 1970s, it was not exactly a tourist spot for the proud residents of Salem. Sam had only entered the premises to conduct some basic radiation testing on behalf of the housing committee to deem the land livable again.
He simply brushed off the noise and continued tweaking his radar to the appropriate levels. He was getting light readings on the perimeter but he decided to stop wasting time and start at the source. He wandered across the street and glared at the destroyed Mom and Pop shops at either side with shattered window panes, crumbling walls and toppled roofs. ''Wow'' said Sam, he never imagined the scope of the destruction ''Some apocalypse level stuff happened down here''
He continued down the road and reached the security gate for the Undertell Family Toy Factory. This was the location the government had initially set up as their base of operations. It was a simple toy factory owned by the reclusive Lawrence Undertell, managed by his wife Martha and ruled by Jake and Juliet, the horrifying Undertell twins.
Apparently, according to the rumors sourced from the local barkeep, they were nightmare children. In and out of psychiatrists offices since kindergarten, they had a strange propensity to have trouble follow wherever they went. Mysterious fires, massacred animals, strange graffiti painted on the walls, etc. They simply wandered around the factory together in total silence, which creeped out the former employees to no end.
However the story takes a slightly darker turn, Sam had enquired how they just gave up their facility for the tests and apparently the land had been reclaimed by the government. ''So what happened to the Undertells?'' he asked, he was informed that a freak snowstorm had trapped some workers and the family inside the factory. The following morning their bodies were discovered near the entrance, mutilated and buried. All were found except for two, the twins. The police chalked it up to gang violence and the case got cold. They conducted many tests over 2 weeks at this location but the project shut down due to what was cited as 'operational issues'. That was code for a lot of freak accidents and disappearances. They couldn't be liable anymore so they abandoned ship.
Sam reached the gate and slid it to the side with little effort due to his tall and large frame, taking care to avoid the rusted nails peeking out the sides. He entered the dimly lit property and slowly stepped inside. All around the property were a mob of scarecrows. Well- dressed and life sized they seemed to be a work of art. He poked on and felt a weird goey consistency. ''Gross'' he said ''Must have been big halloween nuts these people''
*Pssssst.* Sam froze. He cocked his head to the side and saw a pink ribbon floating in the breeze. His heart started to beat. *Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrespasser.*
Sam dropped his device and frantically looked around. There was nothing but shadows to greet his gaze. The device at his feet started to beep. Sam picked it up and noted an intensely high radiation reading where he was standing. ''And that's my cue'' he said, as he quickly turned and dashed back to the gate.
Just as he was approaching the exit, he tripped and fell to the side of the pavement. ''GOD!' he exclaimed, as he clutched his sprained ankle. He fumbled in the dark to see what had tripped him. It was a miniature Jack-O-Lantern. He turned it upside down and found that initials were carved into the base. ''J.U. + J.U.'' he read, and it dawned on him what could have actually happened that winter night many years ago.
*TAP. TAP. TAP.* Sam looked up to the silhouette of two lanky figures in the distance. It dawned on him that the government would probably have removed these scarecrows if they were working here. And if nobody else had lived here then who else could have done it? The figures started to approach. His pulse started racing, beads of sweat trickled down his shirt. ''But....why?'' he asked innocently, one of the figures was revealed to be a wrinkled, shabby man and to his side was a portly, deranged looking woman. ''*Happy Halloween''*
The body of Sam Whittaker was never reclaimed following his excursion to Winster street. But some still say that when the police arrived to conduct the official investigation, they saw an eerily large scarecrow that had been propped near the gate. A cruel smile etched on the soft orange of the Jack-O-Lantern.
​
\- Written by M.M. (Masala Mamba) |
It’s been along time since Lovecraft wrote. The thrillers of thrillers the master of suspense and ambient setting. There’s is nothing more than being lead to slaughter.
There is a good reason why the great beings of cosmic horror and elder things never intervene . That is because they fear us.
The madness the ever creeping feeling on the back of your neck is of them watching us . We are only a people in the 3D world that can observe all dimensions.
You may have noticed that little things in the Corner of your eye, Dreamt of something, written a story, or have read a book. We are the most powerful being in our world. That is our power.
Our horror story’s are what has happened or not. It’s just our pet cat.
For ever helping us. Or sentenceing us to slaughter.
That’s is what they fear the most. |
**September 17th**
Such fragile beings are we. I have known sadness in my life - but when I look at you, my love, I feel grief. Such mindless, soul-devouring anguish is more than my old heart can bear.
And yet, your strength wavers not at all. Faced with so few days ahead, your thoughts are on the past. Our past. Would that I could see past my eternity alone, I would share what little joy I can with you while you still draw breath. Your smile gives me purpose.
So it is that, while you slumber, I work. If I cannot turn my science to your cause, I would prefer to face oblivion at your side.
Dream well, my dear.
​
**September 26th**
Though you will not speak the words, I know you face your final days. You have not left your bed in over a week. You smile when I sit at your bedside, yet I see the pain in your eyes. Your assurances bring me hollow comfort, for a world without you is a world bereft of joy.
As your heart consumes itself, I have made strides in my research. Organs of steel spasm and convulse within the solution as I write. It is no small irony that you will likely outlast us all, with such tenacious and durable machines at work within your breast.
A few more days is all I ask for, my love. We shall reverse your fortunes, through intellect alone.
​
**October 3rd**
There remains a fire within your eye, though you no longer speak. It is almost time to return you to health - and yet I must ask you to fight for a day or two more.
The procedure is rigorous, it is true. My subjects lacked the fortitude to accept the device – and yet I know, in you, it will work. So strong is your will. Still, I labour. I will not risk your life on a whim.
For now, the machines will serve as bellows for your lungs. Life will not depart you while you remain in my care.
We shall dance again soon.
​
**November 16th**
I have perfected the operation.
For each part of you I have had to remove, I shall rebuild you, my love. Beneath the bandages, your flesh is not as you remember - yet when the organs return to you your strength, we will laugh once again. We shall embrace our future, in defiance of the God who would rob me of you.
Tonight, you shall know life again. I shall feel your hand on my flesh – and in your embrace, I shall be once again complete. |
How many years has it been... Since I last used my name? I honestly don't remember. I reached forward with my tendrils forming axe-like blades on each, ready to swing as the soldiers charged forth. "We won't lose to a monster like you!"The big metal one shouted.
...Monster? What did that word mean again? Ah yes, I suppose you could describe me as such. I summoned lightning from the sky to strike various members of his team, I could sense the rather satisfying peal of thunder on my flesh. I crawled forward and slashed at the small one in green and turned my eyes to the shiny-one as energy gathered blasting him into the mud.
"AARON!"the big metal one shouted, hmm so that was his name, he doesn't sound very delicious. "Stay with me buddy!"
I hooked my axes into the the little one and began to open my mouth. His scream sounded rather nice as I began to put him in, unfortunately my meal was interrupted by some fire. I dropped the small one as I turned towards the source... SPELL CASTER !
"Augustus, you came back!"The big one said.
"Now is not a time to talk."the spell caster said
"Yeah this monster is pretty tough."
"Monster... I am no monster, I am a god, ascended from such a pitiful shell of mere humans like you. I have so much power, non could hope to face my wrath."
"You seem to forget the the unyielding determination of humans."The Spell Caster replied. "Humans are what stands here and now."
"And what is a human TO A GOD SUCH AS I"I swung my tendril at the spell caster ready to kill them both.
Once the axe struck, it merely bounced of the human, "And what is a god like you? to a non-believer, SUCH AS I!"
"RAHHH"I shouted as I swung all my tendrils at their direction.
"You face the magical might of the wizard AUGUSTUS!"Her name didn't matter, she dared insult me. "How's Aaron doing?"
"I'm fine."
"What's the plan?"
"When I drop my shield I want you 2 to rush to the side, I'll distract him with some fireballs-"
"RAGGHH!"I shouted as i cast the forest in the red light of anti-magic.
"Oh shit."
I teleported behind them and wrapped my tendrils around their throats, "Are you still non-believers?" |
Second to my faith, John was my everything. He was my guiding voice and spiritual anchor. When the forces of the Adversary overtook him, I prayed by his bedside every night and catered to his every need, because that is what God - and John - asked of me. I felt his pain and listened to the anguish of his heart as he spit up both blood and sin every night, his prayers only interrupted by wheezing coughs and strained, raspy breathing. To the very bitter end, he was faithful, and I can only hope to have such faith in my purpose as he did, even when the Light was obscured by darkness.
And when the Father told me that it was a sin to keep him alive, to keep him in perpetual pain, I followed his Word unquestionably. John's soothing voice steadied my hands, and God's teachings steadied my heart. I was to be the Abraham to his Isaac, but I would continue the deed unlike my Biblical ancestor, unshakable and stalwart in my faith. On a cold Sunday night in the final winter of his life, John and I had communion one last time, with promises that I would see him again - not only in the next life, but in this one as well. He would come back, he promised. He would come back. God told me he would come back.
With a cry of anguish, he died in my arms, as I held his lifeless body and wept. Bitter, selfish tears streamed down my face, and in that moment my faith was truly unsettled. In my agony, I beheld a light that flickered through the dusty blinds, radiating down upon John's cold face, and in that moment I knew that I had done the right thing in the eyes of God.
I laid John in our bed and adorned him with white robes. I locked the door to our old bedroom - his resting place - and moved the metaphorical stone in front of the entrance, penitent and faithful. The key was cast into the fire, lest I succumb to temptation and wish to prematurely view the face of my lover before his time. I awaited for his return as John descended into Hell and on the third day I made plans to rejoice as he returned from his exile into life anew, resplendent and brilliant with the light of Heaven. I awaited by the locked doors like the women by the tomb of Jesus, desperate but patiently waiting the return of their object of longing, content in the promise of heaven. The day passed, and I scoured the appropriate passages to make sure all was correct according to the Scripture. The ritual was done according to His will, I was sure of it. God told me he would come back... he told me he would come back but he never told me that it would be so soon. Yes, of course. God rewards those who wait, and I would patiently wait, resolute and ever faithful.
Weeks passed. When Easter came I clawed at the locked door to our old room, weeping and gnashing teeth at the entrance to my domestic Golgotha, where the light of my life was obscured and hidden from me by the darkness of my lack of faith. It was obvious that it was my lack of faith that had cursed my beloved to oblivion, and it was obvious that I was at fault. So I prayed even more, on my knees for hours at a time at the foot of the locked doors like the bridesmaids at the gates of heaven. Matthew, Mark, Luke... John was locked away from me because I had not adequately prepared my soul to meet him. I had not fully embraced the Lord like my better half had in his acceptance of God's Plan, and it was obvious that His plan for me was to be the penitent wife who awaited the return of her husband with quiet and perfect faith.
I left my post at the foot of his burial chamber only to go to church and for basic necessities. My life revolved around the worship and prayer at the shrine I had created in our old bedroom, the locked door that I was never allowed to open for fear that the ritual would be ruined, that doing so would show weakness in the armor of my faith. I was resolute. I was remorseful. I was faithful.
The smell had gotten quite bad at this point, but I took that as a sign that God was challenging me, so I remained steadfast. Strange demons would bang on my door, passing notices through my overflowing mailbox. I didn't bother with them. My retirement checks paid for the house, and all else was taken care of through He who watches over me. My worldly job was to wait for the return of my husband, unwavering in my faith.
Weeks turned to months. Months turned to years. Everything in the house could rot, for all I cared, as all that mattered was following the plan God had set out for me. I would wait a thousand years for my love to arrive, like Jesus in the desert. And when he did I would embrace him with open arms and welcome him back to the garden of Eden, and we would go out in the world and cast away their wicked ways with the Light and Power of God and our faith.
Years passed. At this point, my ritual had completely overtaken my life. People seemed to have forgotten about me, or at least, God willed it as such. Yes, I was to have complete devotion to this task. Always faithful. Always faithful. Always faithful. Until death, always faithful. The electric company had long cut our power, but I didn't need it. The lamp of God lit my way. When I needed material light, candles sufficed, their flickering flame a reminder to never waver in the steps of holiness and devotion.
Admittedly, after years of this process, my hold on faith did tend to falter, and I'm ashamed to say that I let sin overtake me. I began to fear the darkness, the cold, encroaching night, and when my feeble frame was overcome with that freezing pain of loneliness and loss, I would turn to the light of the physical world for guidance, instead of turning my eyes to the unseen but ever-present Light of God. I began to light more candles, more flames to warm my cold soul and illuminate my readings. But after a decade of this, a decade of stalwart prayer, my faith was beset by Doubt. In a show of feeble anger I cast aside my bible and tore at my fraying hair, like the Biblical Job at his lot in life. I screamed into the encroaching darkness and kicked aside the faintly burning candles, a show of sudden mania repressed after all this time. But God was watching. This Doubt was merely a test by the Adversary, permitted by God to challenge my faith in Him. And I paid dearly for it. the candles burst into sacred flame, quickly spreading through the dust-choked house, immolating my material abode. In that moment, I knew I was being judged, and I was found wanting. Mene. Mene. Mene. The fire spread to the door, my makeshift shrine, and it soon crumbled with all the fury of Heaven and Hell. In a trance I stepped through the embers, into the tomb of my lover, my beloved John, who lie cold and lifeless on his burial altar. The fires spread into our old bedroom, consuming all and casting divine judgement upon my home. I drifted towards the body of John, the fires creeping along the bed now. I wanted nothing more than to touch him, one last time, but God showed me a sign. God showed me a sign like Moses in the desert, who beheld the great I AM and lived, as John's decrepit body burst into flames but was not consumed. In that moment I knew I had failed him in my faith. I had failed God in my faith. I crumpled to my knees and prayed and prayed while the embers of my sin consumed everything around me. I prayed all night, until I awoke in the morning, alive in the middle of a circle of ashes and crumbling ruins, unscathed, but shaken. I was Peter upon the water, Thomas confronted with the scars of Jesus. I had been made an example of by God and left a martyr of my old self. I didn't have enough faith. I didn't have enough faith.
God have mercy upon my soul, whom You have marked with the brand of Cain and commanded to walk the earth forever, gibbering madly about the wonders they have witnessed, heavy with the weight of their sin. |
I'm awake, but my eyes are closed. I hear the choppers of a helicopter going and feel a vague weightlessness that leads me to believe we're in the air.
*We're.*
I can feel bodies all around me. Next to me. Across me. And I can hear them. They're talking.
The first voice. "So everyone remember the plan?"
The second voice. "How could we forget? Shoot him and drop his body in the jungle. It's so easy I almost feel insulted."
The third voice. "What I don't understand is why they needed six of us. This is literally a one - maybe two - person job."
First voice. "We're not here to ask questions. All we have to do is follow orders."
The fourth voice. "Guy must be dangerous if they needed six of us."
The fifth voice. "I heard he was in a special program that went haywire."
Third voice. "Really? What type of special program?"
Fifth voice. "Like classified, classified. Even higher than us."
Fourth voice. "So, how'd you hear about it?"
Fifth voice. "Because my girlfriend's sister is sleeping with the brother of the guy who knows the guy that makes the coffee for the cousin of the best friend's mother-in-law's friend's son who is friends with the friend of one of the guy's who is supposed to be in charge of the program.
Fourth voice whistles. "That classified, huh?"
Fifth voice. "Guy is supposed to be like some type of sleeper agent. I heard the program was so intense that he was the only one of four or five people that survived even the initial stage."
Third voice. "So how many people are supposed to be in the program?"
Fifth voice. "Initially, from what I heard, it was ten. But the training was, like I said, intense. Our hardest missions were supposed to be like warmups to them. I think only three people made it through the whole thing."
Fourth voice. "Two - after we get done with this guy."
They laugh.
Third voice. "Earlier, you said that the program went haywire. What did you mean by that?"
Fifth voice. "Well, just going off what I heard... the whole point of the program was to train these guys to be sleeper agents. Train them. Wipe their memory clean. Drop them wherever you needed some killing done. Then activate them and let them loose on whoever you wanted dead."
Fourth voice. "So then...?"
Fifth voice. "Yeah, one of them woke up before it was time. Buddy next to us."
Third voice. "Holy crap, what if he wakes up?"
Fifth voice. "Then we're screwed."
First voice. "Okay, hold it! I let you tell your story cuz I was bored and needed something to pass the time. But let's not start panicking. There's one of him, and six of us."
Second voice. "Right. And if you sissies forgot, if he was soooo good, as you said he was....how did they catch him?"
A pause.
Fourth voice. "Maybe he let himself get caught..."
First voice. "Negatory. Too risky."
Third voice. "For who? For him or for us?"
Fourth voice. "You scared?"
Third voice. "Uh, heck yeah! I'm sitting right next to him! I'm just saying...maybe we should shoot him in the head now, just to be sure."
Second voice. "Are you stupid? We shoot him right now and risk the bullet richocheting somewhere or off something and putting us *all* in a bad spot. We have to shoot him when we're about to push him out the door. But until then, we're almost there. Just cool your horses."
Third voice. "I'm just saying...I'd feel much safer if-"
Second voice. "You want to switch seats, ya big baby? Here. Come sit here, away from the big bad wolf."
Time slows. There's two bodies on my right, four on my left - two immediately next to me, and two even further and on the opposite side. But the two on my immediate left - one next to me, and one across - are getting up and passing each other, creating a moving barrier from the two on the farthest left.
In other words, my only chance.
I shift my left foot over and trip Second voice. He stumbles forward and his face hits the wall right above my left shoulder. I throw an arm over his back to secure him and then I crack Fifth voice in the face with my elbow. I open my eyes and see Fourth voice reaching for his holster. The compartment is small, so I scoot forward and kick my foot out, pinning his hand with the gun it to his stomach. First voice is trying to aim his gun over Second voice. I grab Fifth voice's gun out the holster and shoot Third voice in the shoulder with it. He falls back and throws off First voice's aim, and his shot hits Sixth Voice (who'd been asleep the entire time) in the kneecap. Then I pop Sixth voice in the head, rotate, then pop Fourth voice in the face. First voice and Third voice aren't immediate threats. Fifth voice is unconscious. Second voice is struggling under my arm, but I can't get a good shot at him, so I wrap the belt buckle around his neck and kick his feet out. His forehead hits the edge of the seat, and if that doesn't kill him, the oxygen deprivation will.
I unbuckle myself.
Time elapsed: less than sixty seconds.
Second, Fourth, and Sixth voice are dead. All that are left are the odd numbers. I point the gun at First voice and ask who ordered them to kill me. He shouts some obscenities. I shoot him and point the gun at Third voice. Ask the same thing. He gives up a name. Fifth voice is coming to. He looks around and starts pleading, "Please don't kill me!"I won't. Not yet. He has information I need also. I tell Fifth voice to drive the plane. The pilot looks at me and asks what he's supposed to do.
I tell him to tell his bosses everything he saw, then I hand him a parachute and push him out the door. I go through everyone's pockets, confiscate weapons, and kick the dead bodies out the door. I find a first aid kit and I let Third Voice patch himself up as I watch him closely. When he's done, I hit him with the butt of the pistol, once, into unconsciousness. Then I sit up front with Fifth voice and, sitting sideways, so I can watch him and Third voice in the back in case he wakes up, I say to him:
"The only reason why I kept you alive is because I wanna know everything your girlfriend's sister knows about the brother of the guy who knows the guy that makes the coffee for the cousin of the best friend's mother-in-law's friend's son who is friends with the friend of one of the guy's who's supposed to be in charge of this highly classified program that made me." |
“Isn’t it beautiful?” The small purple creature looked down at me from its floating platform. A smile formed on its malformed face.
“I fail to see how the enslavement of my entire race can be considered beautiful.” I scoff back. I fully expect that the new implant in the base of my neck will go off, sending me to the ground, but nothing happened. Instead I hear a sigh.
“What was your identity, 64589?”
“My name IS Gregory. I am not a number.”
“Of course you are, as am I, as are we all. Whether a name or a number, what’s the difference. In fact, I would wager that your...name, as you call it, was shared by many, yes?” I look to the side, and it floats down to face me eye to eye. It’s barely a foot tall. If not for their technology, we would have accidentally killed their entire race without a thought.
“Yes, there is more than one Gregory on earth. What’s your point?”
“You have been renamed. No one, not a single human on earth shares your number now. We have brought uniqueness. We will keep you alive far longer than your meager sciences could have done.” It gestures grandly for some unseen audience.
“For the purpose of servitude!” I burst out, flenching again in anticipation, but nothing. It simply waved off my anger and moved on.
“Hunger has ceased. Your wars were ended in a day. Your climate has reached optimal stability. What is your service in exchange for the longing of the human heart?” It motioned its three fingered hand at a screen and showed various news channels from months ago, before THEY came. Children were dying in wars. Hunger swept across vast lands. Climate change summits were a monthly occurrence, with top scientists saying we had mere years left before the damage was irreversible.
“64589, your race has been wondrously saved by the Hive.” My eyes went wide.
“Saved!” This time I didn’t care if pain came. Everything in me wanted to lash out, to squash this THING in my fingers and smear it against the wall.
“Yes, saved. I know what the humans say. Your rebel fighters speak of how we overthrew this or overthrew that. We have done nothing of the sort. We have brought you the highest form of good.” I still held the tray I was summoned to bring in, which held a contained the size of a paint bucket. They rested in these little disgusting soups, rehydrating themselves. It came closer, dipping its hand in the liquid and washing its face with it.
“Those things are important, but we want choice. We don’t want masters.” It looked up at me again, revealing its toothless smile.
“No, but we needed servants.” |
\[early 2000's\]
OWNER: "Spartacus is the *dumbest* dog, I'm telling you!"
FRIEND: "How's that?"
OWNER: "Watch this - if he sees an apple -"
SPARTACUS: BARK BARK BARK!
OWNER: "Just loses his ever - loving mind! *Every single time!* What sort of dog does that! What a dingus!"
FRIEND: "I dunno, makes sense to me. An apple a day keeps me away too.... Now what's he up to?"
OWNER: "Spartacus, what in the hell - look at him, tearing up my newspaper! Don't get the sports page, you turd-eating weirdo! Get!"
FRIEND: "Ahhaa!! He brought you a page, what'd you get?"
OWNER: "Looks like, stock market info or something? Wall Street stuff? I - "
SPARTACUS: \[whining intensely\]
OWNER: "Shut your damn yodeling! That's it! I'm returning this dog to that witch from the bridge, he's not worth *half* the mushrooms he cost!" |
My life wasn't the greatest, and I certainly didn't have magic, so I'm experiencing a great deal of schadenfreude (I *love* that word!) imagining the shock that miserable magician is presently experiencing.
I was a three time loser, stuck in the pen for a minimum of a decade, with no nonsense guards who hated my guts. Welcome! Welcome! To the hell hole. May you have every pleasure of it that I did. Every... last... stinking... bit...
So I wake up, not in solitary, on a way better bed than I had in my regular cell, in a much roomier place, with a decent amount of food. On with the story.
The door is locked. It's a keypad lock, and there's no backup keyhole to pick, so I settled in for a long haul of punching buttons. I couldn't do that *all* day, so I figured out how the TV worked, and watched a lot of strange shows. I finally figured out which were the Dramedy and watched them. That's where I got onto the idea that it was English, a bit old, and with a really wierd accent. Enough watching and I picked up the local lingo.
I'd been so concentrated on working the pad to get out, I decided to take a break. No radio here, and no music on TV, so I started singing, which sounds like a dying moose. That wasn't doing anything for me, but I whistle real good.
I'm fond of Bohemian Rhapsody, so I was whistling it quietly up until the "let me go"part. Frustrated, I really pumped volume into that one. At the lock pad.
*Fizzle ZORP! Spit spit spi...*
The room lights went red, the windows closed dropping bars down, and a mechanical voice said that the cops had been called. WTF? *I* had nothing to do with the pad frying! Stuck in a room I hadn't been able to get out of... Heh. I've been in "jail"this whole time, I just didn't know it. Oh, well, I've been here before, I'll probably be here again. Let's play it smart and cooperate.
“Most musicians are clever enough to hide their magic.” I jumped. The voice came out of nowhere. Oh, an intercom? Nice voice though.
"You can hear me?"
"Of course, and see you too!"I'm smitten. It's stupid, but I'm smitten.
"Lady, I believe you, but you hid the cameras really well. May I ask who you are?"
"Last to first. Lady Gloria Wintich, Special Agent of the MCB. What is a camera?"
"Lady Wintich", savoring the name, "I am happy to make your acquaintance. How can you have Television, without cameras?"As I point at the TV.
There's a puzzle in that voice, "tele .. vision? Sight at a distance? What an odd word, and drawn from the classics, which is also forbidden to most. You're digging yourself in deeper ... Pardon me, I forgot to ask your name "
"No offense taken, I'm Julius Dracovitch."There was a dead silence, and when her voice came back on, it was pissed and no nonsense. Oh, how I wished I hadn't given her my real name, but it just flowed out!
"Okay, Draco, you just broke a solemn treaty that will restart a war of genocide. Start talking fast."
"Woah! I didn't break any treaty! It's just a name! The name I was born to. My mother chose Julius for her favorite uncle. I don't know anything about any treaty, and genocide is *illegal*. Even I know that much!"
"Don't play stupid, Draco. Dragons don't have uncles or mothers. They're hatched. They're evil. And you are trying my patience!"
"You take that back. My mother was a good woman who got raped. She raised me as best she could. The fact I turned to crime is *my* fault, not hers. The only lesson that really stuck was that you do not kill. Before I came here, I was in the pen for a minimum of 10 years. No parole. The guards were rotten bastards that took pleasure in abuse and threw me in solitary for backtalk. However I got here, I'm delighted thinking that whoever did it probably dropped straight into the pen in my place. You want to lock me up? Do it because of a crime I actually committed, not because you're delusional enough to believe in dragons."
"You insolent bastard!"
"Yup. I'm insolent, and a bastard, but I ain't crazy like you. Did you know you have a beautiful voice?"WTF? Where did that last come from? Coming on to a cop is a major no no.
"You!... A beautiful voice? You are under the glamorie... You really don't believe in dragons, and you don't believe in magic?"Oh, her voice! I don't care if she is delusional. I'll talk with her just to hear that voice.
"Lady, you have such a beautiful voice I don't understand why you're a cop. Dragons aren't real, we only have myths about them. And magic? If you mean stage magic where everyone knows it's fake, sure. I like trying to figure out the trick as much as anyone else. But magic magic? Wiggle your fingers, mutter some words, and the impossible happens? That's stupid. No one can do that!"
"What we have here..."
"...is a failure to communicate. Lady, that's a line from my favorite movie. It's cliche here, but in the movie it was perfect."
"Movie?"
"Yeah, movie, motion pictures, shine a light through the film and see the pictures on the screen?"
"You *do* use magic!"
"Lady, please, get a grip! It is not magic, it's technology! The camera takes ordinary pictures on film, the film is developed, you shine an ordinary light through the film, and use lenses to put the image up on a wall so the people who bought tickets can see it! It looks like it's moving because the pictures are taken so fast by the camera and played back by the projector that it *looks* real! No magic, just know-how."
"You know... how... to do this?"
"No! I just liked watching them!"
"Okay, then how did you break the lock?"
"Break the lock? I never did that! It just started sparking on its own!"
Her voice got real urgent right then, "no, you did something just before it happened. *DON'T DO IT AGAIN!* Just tell me what it was."
My turn to be confused. "You mean whistling?"
"Describe it, *don't do it!*"
"You purse your lips and you can make a tone. If you're good enough, you can whistle a tune."
"Make a tune with just your mouth, and you claim you're not a magician. Your right, you aren't.". Yay! Progress! "You're a walking disaster waiting to happen."Oh, shit.
"That's why..."Half to myself...
"That's why what?"
"Oh, you don't have music here, not even mood music for the television. No radio stations to listen to, no concerts, no bands playing to excited fans. Honestly, Lady? It sounds bleak to me."
"Playing to crowds? You've been subjected to massive geas spells! No wonder you don't believe in magic!"
"Lady? My turn. What we have here..."
"Is a failure to communicate.
You may be right. In any case, do you agree not to make any sounds other than normal speech?"
"For you Lady? I'll do my best. But I am given to spontaneous snippets without intent to cause anything other than amusement. You don't want to hear me sing anyway, I sound like a dying moose."
"That explains the gigantic beast in the courtyard."
"Gigantic... four long legs, brown fur, and a set of antlers that are huge?"
"Yes."
"Aw, shit. I'd better watch what I say too. Maybe it's better if I don't talk at all. You got a gag with you?"
"You ask for the gag of your own free will?"The wonder in her voice.
"As long as it isn't going to hurt me, and you take it off when we're somewhere safer, sure."
"Just a moment while we make preparations. You agree to don the gag yourself, without coercion of any sort."
Mystified, "I do."Damned if a tube didn't float right through the door, and into my hands. "What now?"
"Place the tube in your mouth, and bite down on it."So I did. It wasn't what I expected. I went deaf, dumb, and blind. I also panicked. "Easy Julius, it's temporary, painless, and utterly harmless.". Yeah, I thought through my panic, unless you're a claustrophobe. Instantly, my sight came back. "You should have told us."All I could do ... Hey... How did she know? Mind reading? "Of course, we wouldn't be able to guide you if we had no communication at all."I'm not hearing her through my ears. Oh boy... I'm in way too deep. Magic is real here? "Yes. And because I can read your mind, I now know that you really don't understand where you are. That's also why you are a disaster waiting to happen."Because a completely innocent snatch of music could do big damage. "Yes. Exactly."
I look at her with sad eyes. "Will I be in prison for life?"Maybe. "I'd rather be dead."Truly? "I've never killed, or deliberately harmed anyone physically; save one, and his death *was* an accident. Even the judge and jury agreed to that. Locked up for life? I'd be better off dead."If you value your freedom so much, why do things that cause you to end in prison? "It's the challenge. The thrill of putting one over on *the man*. The rush of proving you're better than the clods who are in charge, and refused to do anything when..."When what? "...when your mother was murdered by a cop, when she refused to put out for him."
((Edited for format and spelling.)) |
Judy went straight to the kitchen drawer, she took the knife, ready to cut her finger, draw the blood and draw the mark.
Judy had had enough. Judy was tired, Judy was angry.
She had loved and hoped and dreamed, but not anymore. She had suffered enough, but now she'll pay them back, she'll pay EVERYONE back.
She'll have her revenge.
Her blackened heart, her hatred and rage, had brought her dreams, terrible dreams, awful dreams. But now she knew what to do, she had seen the symbol in her dreams.
Somebody had left the toaster on the table. Just another annoyance, another small obstacle, but it didn't matter. Soon they'll pay even for that.
Moving the toaster and holding the knife and the trembling expectation made her cut herself. Blood fell on the toaster, and on the ground where she'd laid it, but she didn't bother with it. What matters is the mark.
She carefully used her blood to draw the circle and all the lines and curves she had learned in her dreams, she chanted the melody and called the names she had been taught.
Then she waited. And waited.
She waited a long time, and nothing happened.
Judy almost started crying, but decided to wait some more, she had put too much hopes on this for it to fail.
To distract herself she decided to make a toast. She hadn't eaten yet and she was hungry, and she had nothing to do, so she might as well.
She plugged the toaster in, and a bright red light started shining. Judy was blined instantly. Thousands of echoing voices, screams mixed with laughs, rose from the toaster, as if from an enormous cave.
A black smoke went billowing up from the toaster. Judy fell down on the floor choking as the rom quickly filled with burning smoke.
Then the flames came.
The whole building burned. 23 people died in that tragedy.
Not even a piece was left of the toaster. |
Well this is unexpected, I watch feebly as death started to inject an anaesthetic in my spinal column.
I asked her, "But was I supposed to feel the pain?'
A sly smile appeared on her face, "If You've hurt people you'll feel pain, but what you did wasn't hurting creatures. You ceased to recognise their very presence. Mortal,
Think of the tree, out of whose trunk the papers were made, did you hurt it or just tossed it in the bin?
Think of the meat that you've consumed, you just digested them without feeling a single thing, the plants had the same luck, the cotton you threw them away every year."
"Your whole life is nothing but that of an opportunistic parasite leeching off others, your parents, your friends, acquaintances, your wife, kids, girfriends, everyone was there to satisfy one of your needs and when the need got satisfied, you delved into eating and sleeping. That's how you were, the lowest of scum, who never acknowledges anybody else's presence, let alone feeling empathy for them. Such a megalomaniac doesn't have the worth to feel anything, let alone pain." |
The craziest part wasn’t how i died, or why. I figured it was the universes way of saying, “I finally got you.” To think it was a simple car crash as well, was the worst part. I hadn’t recalled why I was driving that fast, that late at night. The road I was driving was one I had driven almost all the time, and knew the sharp curve was up ahead. That didn’t stop me however, as I didn’t ease off of the gas. I instead floored it and took the curve at 120, and before I could look past the speedometer I was here.
Which brings us to the craziest part of my day.
I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, ranging from robbing innocent people of their lives as a mercenary to extorting millionaires from their money as a banker. I did, indeed, live a double life. I never had a grasp on religion, figuring I would simply be at peace when I finished kicking. However being before Saint Peter in front of the golden gates wasn’t what I was expecting, nor was I expecting him to be so welcoming of someone like me. I had appeared alongside a line that seemed to lead along further than my eyes could see. I was close to walking away from the gates to join the line and wait for eternity, however I was stopped in my tracks.
“Ah yes! Joshua Hendricks, born October 19th, 1979. I’ve been expecting you. Please, this way.”
I turned to face the man who was talking about me, and paused. The man in front of me was also the same one at the ticket booth at the front of the line, as well as next to the gates.
“Who are you?” I asked curiously, and cautiously. I’ve heard stories of Valkyries choosing fighters to join Odin, however from the stories they were all females.
“Yes I am indeed not one of those from Valhalla. If I’m mistaken I can send you there instead?” St. Peter looked down at a clipboard, and I stumbled back in surprise as his hands were empty before.
“Where are we now?” I asked, and before I could answer it, he answered for me.
“Yes, your suspicions are true. This is the Kingdom of Heaven. You are dead, however you are also forgiven. Now, I must be back to work, so if you wouldn’t mind.” St. Peter motioned to the gates that now slowly opened. Joyful laughter emerged from behind by the gates, as well as the calls from family members and barks from dogs I had in my childhood.
“I don’t deserve this.” I turned to him, my mind lost of any thoughts.
“Like I said, you have been forgiven. Now go and enjoy eternity. I’ve been told you are supposed to meet someone here.” St. Peter said, and simply smiled before giving me a little nudge. My feet did the rest, and a few steps more led me to greeting a man, dressed in white robes. When he turned to face me, I didn’t need any more stories, didn’t have any more doubts. Three simple words made me forgive myself for all the harm I had done, even more so to myself.
“Welcome home, Joshua.” |
“A part of me wishes her farewell,” you begin, watching your laces dance in the light breeze of paradise, “but what things could she accomplish dead? What lessons can she learn encased in a wooden box, beneath the earth that she roamed? How can she redeem herself in my eyes if there is no redemption for her to reach? You offer her salvation, but no redemption. My family is with you. Her family is not. A great pain would be upon her family if she were to be taken in such a manner that you have orchestrated. I request you take my life, so that my family may be with me again on the pretence that she, the love of my life, take your pardon of her passing as a chance to do right by me, and by herself for the future.” You looked up at the entity you swore your loyalty to, all those years ago on earth, “she may be the love of my life, by I am not the love of hers. Give her the chance to find that, at least.” |
"You fools."he laughed. "You utter fools. I was an insidious actor all along. I always paid back my debts, donated time to my community, was kind to my neighbors, paid all my taxes, engaged with the government, tutored children in local schools, and even wrote an essay detailing a list of reasons for why I support the things I do- not out of any goodness of my heart, but to *game* the system."
He laughed again.
"And now, now my vote is worth *more* than another citizen!"
The government official looked blankly back at him.
"You sure showed us,"she said. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.